Who Dey?

I usually blog more when I'm in my introspective phases. I'm not in one.

I have a recording date set for October 29th. No job yet, no time for one. Jazz ensemble is everything I ever could have hoped and dreamed it would be. The John Von Ohlen combo is ok. Big Band arranging is a big waste of time, but I'm glad I'm getting school credit for turning out a chart. Anyway, we only meet for half the quarter. Music History suuuuuuuucks. I have a paper due tomorrow. The whole organizational thing is going beautifully. I love packing my day full of stuff and getting it all done. It makes me feel like such a badass.

Here's an anecdote you readers might find to be entertaining. Well, at least I found it to be entertaining at the time. Last night Trent called me while I was at salsa (sometimes I like to go to salsa by myself), and convinced me to join his physical chemistry "study group", which had really just degenerated into a study of Jameson and Guinness. Once I got there, Trent, who was substantially loaded at this point, proceeded to announce to all his friends "Hey guys, I have an announcement to make. I am dating a complete badass." Irish car bombs do funny things to people.

The Bengals are apparently 4 and 0. I can hear the drunk people yelling "who dey?" until 3 in the morning, and they start up again around 8 in the morning. You know you're going to go far in life when you get up earlier than you normally would just to start drinking. For those of my readers who aren't Cincinnati locals, "Who Dey?" comes from the cheer Bengals fans have for the Cincinnati Bengals. It goes something like this:

"Who Dey? Who Dey? Who dey think gonna beat them Bengals?"

Somehow this ghettoed-out cheer with enough grammar errors to make me cringe is rather appropriate for the city, as well as the football team. The Bengals are a really really crappy football team, most people can't remember the last time they played this well.

I actually find it to be an appropriate slogan for the lovely city of Cincinnati. My friend Federico and I agreed that Cincinnati is sort of like a really talented, bright kid who smokes a lot of pot and refuses to apply himself/herself.

Another thing worth mention is that I can't wait for the weather to get cold. Fall is my favorite season. Trent and I have agreed to go to a cider mill on a weekend and get apple cider and caramel apples, and maybe go on a hay ride. I would pick a pumpkin to carve, but the pulp and seeds inside always totally grosses me out.