Just Like Everybody Else Does

OK, I just realized something the other day: The next time I'm at the Today Show (being interviewed this time, of course) its probably going to be old, wrinkled Meredith Vieira interviewing me (we could hope for Matt Lauer, but that might be asking too much). Oh well. Depending on what it is that I do to get myself on the Today Show, I may very well be talking to other media congloms as well, so it'll work out, I'm sure.

For those of you keeping score and keeping up, I took the Foreign Service exam this weekend, and it went really well. Who would have thought that a 6-hour exam could be so enjoyable? Dont worry--there was PLENTY I didn't know, and I'm pretty sure the State Department isn't going to be pounding at my door anytime soon, but you never know. Maybe I'll become a diplomat after all.

In the mean time, I'm dealing with a pretty severe case of Spring Fever. I find myself acting with new abandon in regards to my interactions with the fellas. Na przyklad: The other day I was talking to my little friend Travis (sorry, Trav--you are clearly not diminutive, and you've made it abundantly clear that youve dated girls older than me--I promise its a term of affection). Little Travis recently buzzed his head and all his crazy-beautiful curly hair appears to be gone for the summer. But as all the ladies who know Little Travis will attest, the boy can do no wrong--he looks simply amazing no matter what (and if you are reading this, Travis, please don't let it go to your head). Well, of course being Rachel and having zero filtering capabilities, I expressed this very opinion to dear Lil T. Knowing me as well as he does, he took it in stride, and I appreciate it. But a girl can't just let stuff like that fly out of her mouth like that, right?

Chevron as well has been *lucky* enough to listen to my musings. Don't ask me why I feel compelled to hang out at gas stations when I go to fill up, but you learn so many great things spending time in convenience stores. Like if your credit card won't read on the machine, you can put it in a plastic bag, and somehow that does the trick. Or if you look mean enough, you don't get carded. Or that cigarettes are rather expensive, even if they cost only half what they are ringing up for--smoking is an expensive habit. Or that the sandwiches and hot dogs are supposed to be thrown away periodically. Or that if you make friends with the guy who works behind the counter, he'll offer you hot chocolate (because you've spilled it all over yourself) or doughnuts (because he's nice, or because they are old and nasty--I'm not sure on that one). I like that Chevron, though, because he counts himself among the racy population. Or at least the weird (his word, not mine). I just think he's precious, even if he didnt quite approve of the T-Shirt I wore last night (one that read "I'm a sucker for guys in eyeliner"--by the way, I'm getting good mileage out of that shirt but I actually think that deserves its own paragraph). Anyway, I like Chevron, and I want to kiss him in full view of some security cameras sometime, for the heck of it. (And Chevron, if you are good enough to be a Rachel blog reader, then you're even cooler than I thought.)

So about my shirt--heres the story. On Friday night I was a little nervous about the Foreign Service exam. I knew there wasn't much I could do to study for it, though I read over the amendments and what not. But in my first Polish class a little boy named Joel had said something that's stuck with me over the years: Eat Good, Sleep Good, Look Good. Well, I needed some pencils for the exam and so I went to Sanrio (the store that sells all the Hello Kitty stuff--a nod to my personal hero Lisa Loeb--and smells like plastic and my childhood) so I could at least write in style. On the way, I got sidetracked and found the Boys in Eyeliner shirt. I had to buy it. It's not often one finds a piece of clothing that expresses ones' feelings in such a precise way or at least what one's preferences were in high school. So I also thought that wearing it would help me, in case I ran into the former love of my life at the test (he didn't show up), so he'd know he isn't my type (I'm sure he'd never wear eyeliner, though he did let me put a mud mask on him once). Instead, I had many, many men tell me that they were going to run out and get some eyeliner, and I watched a security guard in the mall trip while reading my shirt (or looking at my chest, whichever you prefer).

PS. I hate MySpace and the fact that I cannot seem to get apostrophes to stick in this blog (I don't know if I am an idiot or what). Obviously, some work, but it's kind of hit or miss. Don't be a hater.