it's not just about having good hair

My parents arrived yesterday. On their journey from Dulles to Charlottesville, they discovered Sheetz; arguably one of mankind’s greatest achievements.
Upon arrival, they gave my condo the once-over (as parents are wont to do), poised to criticize even the slightest bit of non-domesticity they spied. Fortunately, Sven had engineered a bike system in my bedroom to keep the two-wheeled monsters out from underfoot, so the condo actually looks like a home and less like a garage. I am down to 4 bikes now, so that helps with the clutter.
Following their 48-point military inspection of my domicile, Mom began “the shoulding”. All kids are familiar with this. These kids grow up to be adults and when they have kids of their own forget how awful “the shoulding” was. So they continue the tradition. It’s a vicious cycle that I will work to stop by 1. Not having kids and 2. Not saying that damn word; “should”.
But back to my Mother’s favorite pastime, shoulding. According to her flawed statistical reasoning, neither I nor my sister should have lived past our 18th birthdays, whereupon we left the house for college. To hear Mother tell it, Sarah and I are completely unable to function on our own without her frequently-offered advice. Our ability to get married, buy homes, hold down high-paying jobs, get Master’s degrees, and manage our finances is clearly a fluke. Beginner’s luck. Because we are certainly not able to survive without her words of wisdom. Hence the shoulding.
So when I’m not rolling my eyes or defending my reasoning for not alphabetizing my baking supplies (“I have 19 minutes of free time per day, which I refuse to spend tearing apart my pantry.”), I am keeping a tally of the MotherMyths she regularly spits out:
-you shouldn't eat cookie dough. you will die
-you don’t need to eat. Ever
-you should scrub your face vigorously to get rid of pimples. Yes, Mother, my 2 1/2 years in the beauty industry taught me NOTHING
-you should save Mason jars and twist ties (in my minuscule kitchen), because “you never know when you’ll need them”
-your oven isn’t level (no, my house isn’t level)
-how on earth can Mandy function with such a small kitchen? (Well, give me $20,000 and I’ll go buy a better one)
-Aaron should run to the gym.
“He does run, just not to the gym.”
“No, he should really run instead of going to the gym”
“He DOES run…but you can’t lift freeweights just anywhere! Why don’t you tell him?”
“I’ll tell him he should run”
“He DOES run!!!”
See, people, this is what I put up with…

And speaking of Aaron, myths, and the gym: today he saw Dwayne Johnson (AKA The Rock) working out. But Aaron remembered his manners and refrained from asking him about his upcoming movie (Southland Tales), during which he is, appropriately, shirtless. I love The Rock. He’s a guilty pleasure, kinda like LoLCats. Much to Sven’s chagrin.

-you nearly forget about your addiction to shopping at saks. i haven't bought myself anything new to wear in eons. if i had money i might be able to consider it, but if it's one thing mba programs are known for, it's high credit card balances. despite the fact that we are learning how to lead (and market and finance and consult) the free world, we shamelessly rack up debt.
-you want to die of boredom after staring at supply/demand curves. i sent this email to some girlfriends today: "I would rather poke myself in the eye with a fork than sit through another IS/LM Economics lecture. Prof Beckenstein is awesome. Darden is awesome. Economics is not. It's fucking boring. Sorry, people. It's proven fact. That's why it's called 'The Dismal Science'. My soul shriveled during the last 85 minutes."
-you don't remember (nor care) the last time you did anything more strenuous than hoisting your bookbag over your shoulder
-your blog posts are borin
-you hate the thought of pizza
-you think of sleep during 99% of your "free" time (which totals 24 minutes daily)
-your blog posts are really boring
-you whine about your 10 minute "commute" to school on your bike
-you find joy in silly websites
-the thought of thanksgiving break doesn't mean "turkey", it means "sleep!"
-your blog posts are hopelessly, mindlessly...boring

I spent this weekend in various states of happiness. Some hours were better than others. I will give you all the gory details below.
But let’s start with a celebration of how, for the first time in 4 years, I have no athletic “goals”. While some may be appalled by this, I am not. My career in cycling ran the gamut of being a joyful escape from my “real job” to a job in itself, fraught with the requirements and stresses brought on by making a living pushing my body to its limits. The last time I woke up on a Saturday morning without a pang of “I should be training” or “I should take today off” was about 4 years ago. I needed to get back to this, but only after spending those precious 4 years testing the parameters of my abilities.
So I woke up on Saturday morning with a raging hangover. And no desire or need to ride. I had spent a harrowing week locked inside Darden’s halls, under various pressures of StratSim (marketing simulation), cases, and planning for the Minneapolis Job Trek. I didn’t exercise once, and didn’t really care.
So Friday night came and I got together with the Indian Mafia for Jyotishko’s birthday. I had such a blast with 60 of my classmates, and realized that I’d been missing this component from my Autumn. I hadn’t given in to the Darden life completely. Some semblance of control was necessary, I guess. But I was in purgatory with racing, and I needed to wiggle my way out. Friday I forgot all of that and proceeded to let my dearest Patricia Cayo mix me innumerable potent drinks. I talked (semi-coherently) with different colleagues about my environmental passions, the difficulties of being in a relationship during graduate school, the downfall of nonprofits, and various other high-falutin things. Intersperse that with some downright silly behavior (you should see the wig I was wearing) and you have my night. I got home somehow, but not after yakking a few times (once in my hair) and feeling miserable all day Saturday. When I finally got out of bed at 4 p.m., I walked 4 miles to fetch my car. Yes, mom and dad, despite your best efforts to convince me that I make bad decisions, I have good enough judgment not to drive drunk.
Sounds like any other undergraduate weekend, I guess. But these have been few and far between for me and I sorely needed it. Not that I’m going to spend every weekend nudging my blood alcohol level above .1, but it was a good way to kick off my “I’m 100% committed to the Darden experience” pledge.
Training, schmaining. But I did go for an hour run last night after Learning Team, which cleared my head. In short, life is good! No controversy here. Wait until tomorrow ;-)
what i missed while the boys stayed with cara in n.c.
what i don't miss

but this is one.

mandy's website of the week. hey, i can't take myself seriously all the damn time.

simple.

They're having a sale. They rule.
Okay, now I'm off to the NAWMBA conference in Maryland. Svennycakes asked if it was the conference where we all paint our faces and run around topless, harkening back to Amazonian the days of old. I don't think I signed up for that one but I could be wrong.
Love!