Brooklyn and Doobies and ear wax cleaners

New York New York!
Day 1:
I have decided to officially enter what my more technologically savvy friends know as the "blogosphere" and really write about all the crazy shenanigans that happen in my life (not that they happen regularly) instead of venting and writing philosophical ramblings. Please Jessika, it's time to stop being verbose--or not; we'll see.
At approximately 7:45pm I boarded a Boeing 747 with my one-way ticket in hand to New York City. I didn't cry. I didn't reminisce. But I swear I almost pooped my pants. And not just because I had just had a cup of coffee and two shots of espresso.
unnecessary, unladylike, sorry mom.
Anyways, I get on this plane with the rest of Group 6 thinking "oh yes! Maybe dad totally went all out and got business class!"
i was very wrong. very very wrong.
I ended up sitting next to a man who would pick ear wax out of his ear with his pinky; and granted we all have those times when our ears are just dying for a q-tip, but this man (and I watched him stealthily) just flicked it.
he flicked his earwax and im sitting next to him.
awesome, just awesome. of course what can i expect from the guy who has downloaded National Treasure 2 from Itunes on his Compaq and listens to mp3s on tape of "who moved my cheese"? I totally should've struck up a conversation with him.

So now I'm in Brooklyn Heights.
and living in a shoebox. I think the educational housing people lied to Ashley and I. Half of the building is hip and trendy with tangerine walls and andy warhol prints and our side has walls that are painted what ash and i agreed to be the color of baby spit up and have duct tape around the windows to keep the bugs out. But it's home. And I think it's the way it's supposed to be. Ashley and I start classes tomorrow and hopefully we won't be in movement classes where we have to be tulips or feel the emotion that a jello jiggler has when it is taken out of its mold.

ashley made a new australian neighbor (as in he lives here somewhere) who freely rolls joints in the elevator.
boy, are we in for a summer.