Weapon of Mass Consumption

Wandering my way through the Anthropologie website is enough to make me quit this whole grad school thing and put that tuition money towards ordering their entire winter collection. Money well spent, right?  Perhaps I would regret that decision in the coming weeks. *ponders this* Hmm. Nope - it'd be really difficult to be sad with this hanging in my closet. I'd have nowhere to wear it, yes, but that's not important. (Hi Dad! Just kidding! PS - Need money for Trader Joe's!)

So, may I present:

{Adorable Things I COULD Have Spent My Tuition Money On}

1) See link above. Or click here. That, my friends, is autumn summed up in one piece of clothing. Unfortunately, my current geographic location didn't get the memo about the seasons changing and it's still 112 degrees here. (Also unfortunately, it's ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS! But, since we're spending my tuition money, we'll just refer to it as "half an hour of a lecture on Poe"). 

2) Since, as mentioned, it's 112 degrees here, it does seem a little absurd to be shopping for coats. I freely admit this. However, if I were to own this one, I'd just turn up the air conditioning and wear it anyway, because, hello! That is a coat that needs to be shown off despite the weather forecaster's cheery predictions of triple digit heat.

3) However, since I'll have spent my tuition money, I'd likely move back home where the temperature sits at a balmy 60 degrees. Which would give me an excellent excuse to wear this cozy, can't-help-but-smile cardigan, or 

4) this I'm-walking-to-Starbucks-for-hot-chocolate-where-I-will-stumble-across-Mr.Right sweater.

5) Hmm. Still have tuition money left. Well...why walk to Starbucks when I could drive to Starbucks?

6) Okay, that last one probably put me over, but here's one last item. Doesn't that just make you want to curl up and read Emma? That's what it makes me want to do. Except reading a classic novel would likely only remind me of my dream of getting that MA. Quandary. 

So, there you go. Thanks for helping me avoid my textbooks for a little while. Because, contrary to my daydreams of spending that money on the above, I did, in fact, spend it on filling my brain with useful factoids about T.S. Eliot's alleged anti-semitism and the scandal of Shakespeare's famous sonnets. Everything's more fun when it's controversial. Have a great week ~ I'm off to read Emma while cozily ensconced in my well-worn Target bedding.

Chocolate covered bacon? Check.

With all the cultural activities available within LA, the city is an excellent place to spend a weekend enjoying high-brow, sophisticated entertainment options. Take in the symphony, check out the Getty, hike to the Griffith Observatory - the options for educational activities are pretty much endless.

So, what did I do this weekend?  None of the above.

I went to the LA County Fair! And let me tell you: that place was 180 degrees away from your typical LA city experience. First of all, there were barns. And cows. And sweet old women explaining how to make your own dairy products. (20 minutes of churning to make butter? This wannabe domestic diva is gonna stick with Trader Joe's, thanks).

As we wandered through one of the many barns, we stopped to look at the chicken coop. And it was here that I realized, once and for all, that I am not, nor will I ever be, a country girl. Despite my hometown's slogan ("country close to the city"), I have reconciled myself to the fact that God's creation will be safer if I am firmly ensconced in a high rise apartment building. Nature will be better off. In this particular chicken coop, there were three relatively lively chickens enjoying their captivity within. Those chickens did not concern me so much as the one not-so-lively looking chicken in the corner. I tilted my head and leaned in to assess it. I watched for any sign of life. Nothing. I poked my friend, A, a fellow city girl who was spending her time in the barn with her head bent over her phone, texting.

"I think that chicken's dead," I, city girl, say ominously.
"What?"
"He's not moving! I think he's dead."
"I'm pretty sure that's a she."
"How do you know?" I ask, awed by her display of agricultural knowledge.
"Because it's not a rooster." Hmm. One point to A.
"Oh. Well, I think she's dead."
We both crouch down and get as close as we dare to the coop. We watch for the only sign of life that we know to look for in a potentially lifeless chicken: breathing.
"Did she move?"
"I don't think so." We stay frozen for a minute, watching. Waiting. Nothing.
"Should we tell someone?"
"Maybe."
We stayed there, not moving, for what felt like ages, but was in actuality no more than one very long minute. Finally, just when we were about to inform the powers-that-be that they were down one chicken, the hen sprang up and quick-stepped across the length of the pen, completely oblivious to the very concerned spectators.

Lesson? The next time you see a chicken that's seemingly without life, don't be too quick to call the Colonel.

Thankfully this eliminated any desire we had for chicken, because this is how it was being served at the Fair:

Apologies for the grainy photo (we can't all have iphones, people). If you can't surmise from the picture, that is a BBQ chicken sandwich served on a donut. Yes, a donut. Because, as we all know, LA is the land of healthful, organic cuisine. On the other menu boards around the fair: Deep Fried Reese's (probably would have tried this one, not going to lie), Frog's Legs (just...no), and Chocolate Covered Bacon (no words). Gross, right? Well...in an effort to truly experience the Fair, we may have opted for at least one culinary offering.

I give you: the Deep Fried Oreo.

And you know what? It was pretty good. Even though it cost this poor grad student an entire $6. And a future angiogram.