Case in point: Game 7 of the NBA Finals last night (Curse you, Lakers!!! *shakes fist at sky*). The Dean staff and the RAs were having an informal preliminary meeting in the one and only facility (dubbed "French Quarter") on campus where the students are able to congregate and relax and watch television and drink, etc. By the time the meeting was officially over and we could finally turn on the television to watch the game, it was the very end of halftime. I stayed to watch the game - while burning effigies to the God of the Underdogs while poking voodoo dolls of Kobe and Artest (it didn't work damnit) - along with two RAs and two opera singers.
Anyway, one of the RAs who is studying cello at Boston Conservatory was cheering on the Celtics (doy) and doing the stereotypical chick thing where she shrieks when her team makes a basket and pouts when the other team makes a basket. I empathized because I know what it's like to watch a sports game when you don't really know what's going on. But anyway. About halfway through the third quarter, Boston was up by like six or seven points and this girl startes to leave, saying, "Oh good! They're totally going to win! I don't have to stay for the whole game." And I was like, "Are you kidding me? This lead means nothing right now. There's so much game left to play!" But I didn't really say that, I only thought it. And was really proud that I could make silent informed sports commentary - regardless of how obvious it was.
But then one of the tenors standing behind me talking (i.e. vocalizing and giggling in a high pitched voice) with a group of his fellow opera singers SHRIEKED at the television...because a commercial with talking babies came on. He was like, "OMIGOD! TALKING BABIES! OMIGOD! I LOOOOVE TALKING BABY COMMERCIALS!!" and I felt totally butch.
Also, we took the RAs on a hiking tour of the whole campus, including secret trails and shortcuts that lead from cabin to cabin and I totally didn't have to take twenty hits from my inhaler at all. I was a disgusting sweaty mess, though. But that's okay. That's what Third Showers are for.
I should also add that we had a visit from the local police and fire department today to talk to the RAs about safety procedures and one of them mentioned something about Terminix going into the facilities to spray down the buildings for dangerous spiders. And then that same RA chick from Boston raised her hand and was like, "Wait, were you serious about termites and stuff? Like, are there really termites?" And we all looked at each other quizzically. And I said, "Do you mean ticks?" And she was like, "No, termites. Because I don't want termites getting into my cello." But then we realized that she just misheard the word Terminix and all was well in her universe again.
*sigh*
Musicians.
ps. All of these students probably practice more in one year than I think I have in my entire life. But whatever. That's my dirty little secret. I'lllll never telllll! Hahaha.
pps. I've gotten so used to unraveling like three arm lengths worth of one-ply toilet paper all week that I instinctively did the same thing just now when I went to use the bathroom in French Quarter, which happens to have the nice luxurious kind of toilet paper...and I ended up with a wad of TP in my hand literally the size of my head. I felt like Queen of the Universe! It was AWESOME.
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