Ahhh Ingenuity at its Finest!

Well, as I'm sure you've all heard by now, a little drinky hath hiteth the market called Four Loko. It'll basically guarantee you an entire night of strait up smashery for around 2 bucks. I've never seen a happier student body.

Unfortunately, said drink has also recieved some bad reviews by the grownups in power and are being removed from shelves in some states. I've seen two reactions to this:

1.) Ohhhh my god! This must be like realllly bad for you! We should, like, totally not drink this!

or

2.) Shit! They're taking it all away- better stock up while we still can!

But apparently there is in fact a third option, and by far the most creative!

Just make your own. Duhhh!

My favorite part is the fine print, reading- "BuzzFeed is not liable for any injury, illness, or death associated with this Four Loko homebrew recipe"

So just a recap- you may die, BUT if you don't, you'll have a sick, cheap ass way to get drunk. Party or Die. So what do I say? Salut!

See What Can Happen When We Put Our Heads Together?

I've Been a Bad Bad Giiii-irrrrl

No, I didn't mess around with a delicate man. I just haven't posted in a while. Why you ask? Well in my normal fashion of answering my own questions, its because I've been busy with midterms and other important things- like creating this enourmous straw so that it is suitable for a bottle of vino.



I'm gonna miss college.

 Midterms can be a harrowing time for any college student. So in the midst of long term papers for some reason one of my professors decided to give me the rather torturous task of writing a sonnet. What? But why?!!! I don't actually have an answer this time. So, I cracked open the afformentioned bottle and two hours later this is the horrible love child that occured between vino and a failed attempt at Shakespearean verse:

Oh poems how you do terrify me
You do it in many different ways
My teachers they have tried to prepare me
Sadly no information ever stays
The rhythm of them goes up and goes down
I grimace in frustration as it moves
It makes my head spin around and around
I’d much prefer to be shopping for shoes
I used to think Iamb was a dog food
But it has gotten me to count to ten
It tends to put me in a foul mood
I always must try again and again
Writing a poem is repetitious
So I’ll switch it up, cheese is delicious

Iamb, dactyl, trochee, spondee
Completing scansions tend to be puzzles
I force my roommate to listen to me
Soon she’s going to drag out the muzzles
I should pay special attention to form
And count my syllables to the letter
The lack of prose here is making me squirm
In two more stanzas things will be better
Writing this poem, I’m in the home stretch
At least it’s not in Spenserian verse
Whining like this, I come off like a wretch
Reading it must be like having a curse
After reading this, it doesn’t make sense
You will laugh or cry or just take offense

Yes, I understand the iambic pentameter is non existent.
Yes, I passed this in, anyway.
No, I do not care.
Give me another 20 page midterm, just don't make me write another poem.

Cash or Credit?

I often find that when I go to the supermarket that I'm overcome by a wave of panic when nearing the end of my purchase. See, walking around a supermarket is upsetting enough throughout the process; it just all comes to a stressful hustle nearing the end.

As soon as you get in there it's freezing. I don't know why; maybe they're trying to combat global warming one supermarket at a time. This matter is only exacerbated in the frozen section and prolonged when you leave, as the contrast of a 50 degree store and the 85 degree humidity often causes people to feel like they themselves may crack in two.

The entire set up is a tad ridiculous as well. I mean, nothing is where you think it'll be to start with. I mean, why would the flower section be located next to the bread section? Would it not make more sense to put it near the produce or at least something else that grows? And next to the bread? Peanut butter. Which is all well and good but then what about the peanuts? Located with the nuts, and despite having the word nut located in the name, it's actually a legume. And since supermarkets seem to think that they have cleverly organized their stores by category they're sorely mistaken and therefore, the peanuts should be sitting next to peas or alfalfa or something.

Moving on, lets assume you're a masochist and have decided to go to Walmart or Target or something. If you've actually been able to obtain the items you were looking for in the first place, your task is then to escape that nasty maze they call "grocery aisles." Granted, nothing could be worse than trying figure out how to get out of IKEA, but American businesses are quickly following Swedish suit. Unfortunately, unlike the Swedish ,we aren't given maps or arrows or anything logical for that matter to help us leave.

 But don't worry, you weary shopper! The end is near; just pop through the checkout line and you're off, right? Right. Pop through and 30 minutes later you'll be on your way. And though the entire process of your trip to the supermarket was a long and arduous one, the one thing you can count on for sure is that awkward rush at the end. See, I like to pay with debit for multiple reasons.

1.) I'm under the age of 50, so basically it's my life line.
2.) I have yet to experience identity theft, though I'm waiting for it, any day now.
3.) The dreaded cash/change awkwardness.

Yup, change can be awkward. Well, if you're me anyway. See, for some reason even though your whole experience at the store has been one of a glacial pace, at the very end the cashier likes to throw your change at you so that you have only seconds to compose yourself and leave and they can get the next person through as quickly as possible. Upon receiving your change you have minutes to shove it in your wallet, grab your stuff and run out the door towards freedom. Sadly, if your wallet looks like mine, and since mine looks like George Costanza's, there are so many receipts shoved in there nothing else can quite fit smoothly in. So then what is one to do? Fold it in half and then force it in. OK, phew! You did it, you got the cash in. However, since it was stuffed in, the wallet is now too fat and you have to spend your next precious seconds trying to snap the damn thing shut. But don't be ridiculous, you're not done yet. There are still coins to contend with. Say goodbye to more time passing before your eyes as you try to unzip, dump coins, and rezip. All the while the rest of the line has moved on. They are shoving forward and if you don't hurry up and move you're going to have an avalanche of someone else's Rice Chex rain down on you and your stuff.

So there you go. Supermarket, it's a scary place.

Smile Like You Mean It

No, I'm not talking about that annoying phrase your mother always barked at you when relatives were about to visit, or The Killers for that matter. However, if you guessed the awkwardness that ensues durings those split-second-passerby-interactions, then its a gold star for you!

Just imagine you've awoken in haze, your room littered with Dominos boxes and Lost DVD cases from that marathon you had last night. Realizing you're once again late for class, that familiar phrase, "Oh, crap!" Runs through your head. Before any more precious moments can be lost you yank on clothes, making yourself look mildly presentable, people shouldn't take bathing so seriously anyway right? So down to class you march, back on track to a normal schedule. Now, up until this very moment your whole day seems to be up to par (shower aside) until this fatal moment happens.

Oh hey, look its that girl from my bio class. I wonder if I should say "hi." Naww, she probably won't even recognize m- oh, oh wait. I think we're making eye contact. Damn what do I do now? She's smiling at me. Should I smile back? Ughhhh crap, if I do that, I'll be smiling at her and then the five people behind her. Awwwkward. But if I don't smile she's gonna think I'm an ass. Damn, ok here goes.

And so the tale goes on. You plaster a smile on your face and the other person in question moves on past you, allowing only moments for said smile to be removed and your face returned to normal. Sadly, this never actually works. Normally, you end up grinning on like a jackass to the people behind the intended target of your smile.  This usually results in a mixture of:

1.) People averting their eyes away quickly, as though to say "Ahhh! Whyyy is that weirdo looking at me like that?!" (Frankly I can't blame them)

2.) Looks of shock and anger "What? Who the hellllll do you think YOU are? Huh? You keep staring at me creeper and I'll cut you!" (a tad more hostile, but still understandable)

3.) This is the worst reaction of all- they smile back. To which I would say, "Why you gotta be so damn friendly, hippie?! Look away. Look. Away." (well maybe not, but seriously? I'm not out to make any friends on the way to class here, mk?)

And so to remedy such a situation, I have devised the grimace, a face made when you curl the edges of your mouth upwards, allowing a quick retraction of facial muscles to your standard "I'm on my way to class and I have no coffee in my hand" face. Thus allowing the party in question to feel aknowledged and you to be able to move on with your day awkwardness free. So let this be a lesson to all you friendly people out there: the next time you wish to extend and amicable hand (or face) to those walking in the opposite direction, don't.

Cyclists, Innocent Travellers or Culprits Intent on Ruining an Otherwise Pleasant Walk to Class? You Decide. No Pressure ;)

A college campus is a place for learning. It's a place for frat houses and sorority chicks. It's a place for dining halls and students unions. When walking to and fro to these places the average student has number of options laid out before them. Many go for the ever popular method of walking, its good, healthy, I myself have utilized this many a time. Next up, for the slightly more lazy student, there's the bus. Hey, I don't judge, I live on the side of a hill that is so steep, snowboarding to the bottom in the wintertime could actually be considered a viable option. And, I've never actually seen students do this outside of movies, but I sure as hell wish I had one of my own- golf cart. Mainly on campus I only see university employees carting food around in them, but I think with the right marketing plan geared towards tubbies and freshman, this trend could really catch on. However, there is one last mode of transportation that is unfortunately present in every campus- the bike. I live my life in fear of being clipped every time I step outside my room, danger lurking around every corner.

Just take this scenario into consideration: Ever walk down a street and realize someone else is walking towards you and you think to yourself, Oh crap, is she going towards the left or the right? Well its America, we bear to the right here. And so just as you move right, the girl charging towards you does as well. Uh oh, maybe she's British, here, I'll overcompensate and quickly dart to the left. Unfortunately, this train of thought is also applied by the adversarial walker in question and hence the awkward hippity-hoppity interaction takes place. This is where one pauses, does some sort of move commonly found in a square dance, smiles awkwardly and then scurries off.

Well, this interaction is bad enough on foot, so do you know what happens when your on a bike? Well, your reaction time needs to increase, however it rarely does and unfortunately this is the result:



I would have a slightly more irate reaction, only slightly. But there you are, now you know the dangers that bikes pose to normal people, simply going about daily business. So the next time you think cycling is a good way to get from point A to point B, don't. Get off your lazy ass and walk somewhere.

And You Thought Your Job Was a Bummer...

Ever watch The Tudors? Ever hear of The Tudors? Well, for most people, or at least the ones who paid attention during World History in high school, its a dynasty who ruled England for about 150 years . You know? The one with Queen Elizabeth and Henry, the guy who was a serial marrier? I guess if you don't fit into that category then you either have no idea what I'm talking about or you think I'm refering to the TV show, in which case you are correct.

I picked up this habit via recomendation. I can't really say how accurate to history it is because it really airs on the side of soap opera with men in frilly outfits rather than docudrama. But one thing I definitely have come away with is a sense of gratefulness that I wasn't born way back when. I mean pretty much back then for a woman you were either a wench or nun. Maybe if you were lucky you got to be a barmaid or the Queen or something, but for the most part job opportunities were limited.

Not that I can say job options for men were much better. Nowadays we generally have some sort of labor union- 16th century England? Not so much. Which brings me to the three crappiest jobs you could possibly have back then.

1.) Executioner- Nowadays if you're about to kill someone for murder or whatever, you sit in a little booth and press a button. The unlucky bastard about to die for whatever reason has fluids sent intravenously through his body and he falls asleep. Executioner circa 1300? Well, not only is your job so sucky that you're stuck killing people all day, but the incident of having their bodily juices all over you is also greatly increased. I guess the main form of ending a life was generally limited to beheading and burning, although in one instance (and by that I mean episode) a man was boiled to death in a vat of soup- the same recipe he used to kill some clergymen, how poetic. So props for creativity, but imagine trying to wash out that stench at the end of the day. I mean I complain about smelling like mashed potatoes, better than burnt flesh.

2.) Royal Jizz Disposer- What is a king to do when neither his mistress nor wife with puteth out? Why call in your own personal towel holder to collect, uh, well, you. Yup, this dude literally exists to do nothing other than to show up during times of frustration and dispose of whatever lands on that towel. And I thought being in maid service was bad. But again, with the bodily fluids being dispensed everywhere? I don't know, it must be sort of 16th century thing.

3.) Ooh I did it! I found yet another job a woman could do- Milk Nurse Person. Basically when you're queen or just wicked rich, you are deemed to be above such primitive instincts as breast feeding and after having your baby, it is promptly snatched away to be nourished by someone else. I wonder what the interview process for a job like that is? Perhaps something like a nanny?

Queen: Ahh, I see here that you have had two prior experiences with breast feeding.

Interviewee: Yes, your highness that is correct. One in Kent and then over in Nottingham. 

Queen: Right, yes, and what was the reason for leaving?

Interviewee: Uhmm, it grew up and graduated onto that of a cow?

Queen: Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Well everything seems in order, just send in a CORI form and we'll be all set to start in about a month. Fingers crossed its a boy otherwise I'll end up like that wench Ann- beheaded for only spawning off females.

Interviewee: Uhhhm, I'm uh, I'm gonna go now your Highness.

Hmm, well maybe that isn't how it went exactly, but you get the idea. Quality of life back then? Not so good. I mean if you weren't to busy dodging the black plague or figuring out how to best ward off those pesky gypsies from stealing your crops, then you probably managed to wiggle your way in Court and therefore spent most of your time trying to avoid becoming the King's latest conquest- apparently he was quite the man-slut. So, if your job entails being an actuary or making paper or something, don't complain! You could be stuck throwing out entrails for a living.

The Great American Bore

I would never claim to be a film fanatic. I don't understand camera angles or the use of negative space or the point of avant garde, but what I do know is that if the total amount of events could have actually been portrayed in about five minutes and are dragged out for 2 hours, then there's a problem.

So a quick synopsis of the film I just saw (trust me it will be quick as nothing happened)- George Clooney is an assassin, he moves to Italy and makes a gun which he then sells to a woman who uses it to try and kill him. This attempt is negated however because she herself is shot by dun, dun, dun the very man who hired her to kill him. Oh, and he bangs an Italian prostitute throughout the movie. If any of this sounds vaguely familiar to you, then it's probably because you too watched "The American," and for this I send out to you my sincerest condolences, for you have just lost a solid two hours of life that you can't every retrieve.

There isn't much more to say about this because, well, nothing friggin' happened! I can't say there was any character development, no reason why Clooney wants to run away with the aforementioned prostitute, no explanation as to why people are trying to kill him. The only subplot I can detect, which is about a priest with a secret son, isn't followed. And then, at the end of it all, after the assassin who tried to kill him is shot by the very man who gave her that order in the first place, there's no explanation for that either!

Apparently there's a book, though I can't say I have any intention of reading it because after watching Clooney walk around pouting for 2 hours I'm notentirely sure if I could stand reading a description of him walking around pouting for hundreds of pages.

So, movie snoot balls, you may turn your noses up at me, "What?" you say, "you wanted action, excitement, some semblance of a plot line? How bourgeois." I'll just let these critics' comments  (though few and far between)  speak for me:

"Those who believe they’d be happy watching George Clooney do nothing for two hours can now test that theory."

"It’s like ordering a hamburger and getting escargot. Which is OK if you like snail, but it’s an acquired taste."

"At some point in their careers, most male actors want to play (a) Hamlet, and (b) a hit man. I hope that Clooney has gotten "b" out of his system."

Really, Rotten Tomatoes? 62%? Clearly a perfect example of the inverse principle of movie critics- if they like it, I hate it and vice versa. If this artsy fartsy stuff is your thing then go for it. If your an average joeshmo like myself, then take a pass and go watch "Going the Distance"- stupid but full of dialogue. See? It's all give and take.  

We're Back.......

And by we I mean students, and by back I mean to school. Yes, tis the season to get out those backpacks and notebooks, minifridges and 30 racks- of water of course, load up the minivans and head out to school whether it be in bustling city, a cozy hamlet, or if you're like me, the boonies. So get ready for kids aged 18-22 to be crowding your downtown areas and parking their cars illegally on your streets- school is back in session.

So every year comes a new slew of classes; and the winner this year is..... a  toss up between British Lit. and Creative Writing.  British Lit? Do you have an affinity for literature written in an obscure and practically unintelligable manner you ask? Why no, but I am quite fond of the professor, who remindeth me of the mohel from Seinfeld.

The shards will be deep in the fibers. Is that what you want?!

                 Because I don't think thats what you want!

The classroom is actually made with tile flooring, but I feel if placed in a room with shag carpeting and put to the test he could pull off a good mohel impression.

This leaves me with Creative Writing. Creative Writing attracts creative people. Now, I'm English major and I like to think I'm moderately creative, but I'll be first to admit, I'm a PC and this is a class full of Macs. Hippies, hipsters and that chick who spends to much time in the dark writing stories about horses fill this class, but by far the best part was the opening speech by the professor, "Look guys, I'm not going to lie. This won't be an easy course. It will be hard. We're going to read a lot [there are only 3 books on the syllabus] We're going to write alot. It's going to be greeeeat."

Oh yeah, I think this semester will be greeeeat. Lets hope so at least, it is my last- I liked college so much I thought I would make it a five year experience. So three cheers for my last four months of being a kid.

Fenway Fail

It's summer! So get on those ball caps, fire up the Stub Hub account and get your butt down to Fenway for a ball game- Oh, oh wait. You can't? Because its raining? Like 2 inches of rain all in one night? Sweet.

                                                             +

  =  

:(

Yup, my Tuesday ended like that. I was under the impression I was going to watch the Sox kick some Mariner ass; little did I know the gauntlet I was about to enter into trying to accomplish said goal. I drove to the T, dumped the car, paying $3 in doing so, loaded up the Charlie Card and away I went. Now, I know the T always smells like a mixture of garbage and bum, the two generally not being mutually exclusive, but there's a certain kind of elevated effect that occurs when you throw in the fact that all the moisture in the world has been trapped in the air for the last 3 days due to constant cloudiness. Basically, that business lady wearing too much perfume, the little girl who dropped ice cream and left it there, those college kids who drank too much last night and consequently ralphed Coors Light and cheese fries everywhere, all those people, though they may be long gone, have left their stench behind to stay.

Finally, the orange line came to a screeching halt and I, along with every other nut determined to sit through a monsoon, either because of their determination to get their $20 worth or because they actually were just insane fans, crowded on. Here we have a gambit of people running, from dads with their kids to old guys having some sort of heated discussion pertaining to the downfalls of prestuffed canolis (which I have to say I quite agree with) to two people on some sort of awkward date. Wait ten minutes, hop on the green line, and swap out the old guys for some inebriated 20-somethings and the dad for a confused and annoying soccer mom.

Ahhhh yes, Kenmore Square, I have arrived! The dew drops (well, downpour is closer but who's counting?) hanging about Lansdowne Street, the Citgo sign gleaming in the distance, it just warms the cockles of my heart. So, onward I march, triumphant at the fact there's merely a delay. My Red Sox wouldn't cancel on me and the Mariners are from Seattle, the land of depressing, rainy weather, so they're used to this crap anyway. When all of a sudden, what fresh hell? "The game's canceled!" screeches an annoying preteen boy at me. Whatever! He could be lying or falsely informed. I proceed forward, determined that not only will I sit on the soaking bleachers for hours, but also stopping off at the Sausage Guy first. So, hah! Take that you prepubescent jerk! "Its not happening!" "It's cancelled!" "Game's off!"

Ahhh! OK, I get it. Fenway failed me! So no game, no sausage, no Sweet Caroline. What I can take away from this experience is some soaking hair, an empty stomach and a lighter wallet.

"Oh! But wait," you say, "what about the rain date?"
Well, my dears, I spent the rain date, which might I add, was no less rainy, at my super duper fun job I couldn't call out of. How might I sum up the night for you?

"Cornbread or Italian?"
"Yes."

Insert me banging my head on the counter repeatedly.

If it ain't Broke, Break it.

Last Saturday I went home after work, washed off the general smell I've come to know simply as food and yanked on the sweatpants. Why, you ask? Because as much fun as it is to squeeze myself into an outfit that's too tight, paint on a face, and then spend the next 3 hours of my life having mildly unattractive men try to engage me in some sort of horribly choreographed dance involving unwitty banter and bad puns, I thought I would take a night off.

Yes, I'm in my early 20s, but I was due to cash the 4 inch heels in for a night on the couch with a movie- old age is setting in and it's really getting to me. So the movie? The Girl with Dragon Tattoo. It's your typical story of old man hires young disreputed reporter to investigate the murder of his niece that occurred decades ago on a remote island in Sweden. Enter in the young goth chick with said tattoo, who seems to be a troubled young individual, with an unexplained ability to hack into computers. Overall a fabulous movie, with some awkwardness involving anal rapage- so, maybe a little heavy for date night. It was originally filmed in Swedish and you get the option to watch it dubbed in English or subtitled. Subtitles are better as they stay truer to the book.

So naturally, the movie was a complete hit around world, as was the novel it was adapted from, and therefore, what do we silly Americans decide to do? Why, make our own 'recorded in English' version, of course! Because why watch the original film in all it perfection when we could watch some sort of crap remake with this chick playing the very dangerous and dark Lisbeth Salander:

Doesn't strike me so much as the spiked
dog collar-wearing type.

As opposed to this lovely lady who should've (and did) play her to begin with:

Now set her up against a bunch of bums in a subway
with only a broken beer bottle to defend herself with
 and they're goin' down.

But hey. if there's a will, there's a way and seeing as the will in this case is millions of dollars, I'm sure come hell or high water, a way will be found. It's too bad that past remakes such as The Ring, The Grudge, The Eye or any other Japanese horror film couldn't serve as a cautionary tale of the future suckiness that, no doubt, will ensue. So come December of 2011 I will sit and wait, probably not with baited breath, to watch this all unfold, and if the report comes back positive from me, then damn, egg on my face.

Beach Bimbos

Every year, that sweltering, nasty part of the year, some sort of crazed idea comes over me and I think that it's time to pack up and move this party to the vast beaches of New Hampshire. I think we all do it, only to immediately say to ourselves, "What the hell have I done?!"

There are always a few kinds of beach goers plaguing the shores of the Atlantic. Let's start with the least offensive:

1.) The creepy older gentleman

Camera phones are not a requirement, but
often a popular accessory .

Usually overweight, and in addition to being a complete eyesore, they tend to pack up their belongings for the day, and find a nice spot to park their asses from dawn till dusk. Now, what is wrong with this you say? I shall tell you. The creepy old guys, apart from their blatant disregard for T-Shirts, also tend to exhibit seagull -like tendencies. One will rarely show up alone and if they do, they call upon all of their little buddies to come join the party, taking up the maximum amount of space and leaving a trail of beer cans and cigarette butts  in their wake. 

2.) The Thong Bikini

A style popularized in the 80s and 90s by women who were actually in shape, it has now been carried on only by the trashiest. Cellulite and and some sort of ass tattoo professing their love of a one-night stand they had back in 1982 usually accompany this particular look. Back in the day these classy ladies probably would have gone for the aformentioned old men. This style isn't limited to simply New Englanders either though, as the truly classy Angelina of Jersey Shore once said, "She went in the hot tub wearing only a bra and a thong; have some class, at least wear a thong bikini."

3.) "Like, OOOOOOOOOOOh my God! That life guard was like toooootally checkin' us out!"

SELFIE!

3.) Yes, that horrible squeal can only be emitted from one type of creature on this planet- the teenage girl. Beware not to set up your blanket too close to these beachgoers lest you want a deep insight into the world of hair extensions, the best style of Uggs and the ever important information pertaining to "that girl in Casey's Spanish class who was like totally sleeping with her boyfriend's cousin's best friend's older brother, who goes to college at UC Boulder and is like, totally, probably, pregnant." Oh yes, friends, they take vapidness and topics that are utterly trivial to a brand new level.

4.) Babies...

ughhhhhh! (because who knows what
the hell they're thinking)

Let me preface this with a window into my views on children. Done? Good. Lets continue.

Every year. Every. Year. There's always one family, with one ugly baby, who shows up, carves out a nice 12x12ft. plot of space to call their own and laughs gallantly on at whatever their little brat child does. Behavior usually includes throwing crackers out to watch the seagulls eat them (yes, please just invite all of god's little creatures to where I'm lying why don't you?), screaming loudly out if the attention is moved, however briefly, away from them, or throwing sand everywhere (including on me).

So every year I go to the beach and after not being able to float in the freezing water for longer than 5 minutes I retire to the sand, where this compendium of creatures loiters about.



And now I would like make a brief foray into a completely unrelated topic- Jersey Shore. As I'm sure you know, the cast of characters is back for another season of... well, whatever it is they do. And in celebration of this I would like to throw in a nice little quote from the episode of the week, so here we go:

Jersey Shore Quote of the Week: Finally, the heavens have answered & I found a barbershop in Miami. (Well thank god for that. The economy may be in a recession, children are starving in Biafra but don't worry folks, the heavens have opened, Vinny found a barber shop).

Insert the Mundane Details of My Life Here...

Ever log into facebook and feel like you've been accosted by your stalkerfeed? OK, maybe that's just me, but honestly, more often than not my stalkerfeed is a smattering of complaints, TMI and random arbitrary comments, pictures and "events attended." It's like saying, "Look everyone! I DO have a social life. See? Here's me smiling on the beach, and here's me at a frat party, and here I am in my super slutty Halloween costume!"

Every now and then people like to throw in a curve ball with some sage advice:

"When life gives you lemons, just say fuck the lemons and bail."

A fun anecdote:

"soooo i accidentally ripped apart a hornets nest 2day and had 5 bees land on my face/head"

Or some sort of nonsensical statement:

"always knew that Voldemort could tap dance."

Most of the time however we are given daily routines no one cares about:

"gym...pool...teaching until 7 :)"
"interview at tennn. :)"
"sleeping. work 9-6."

(Ok, congrats you're a busy, important person. I'll be sure not to get in touch with you so as not to interrupt you're interview at tennn.)

The personal details of a person's life I have no interest whatsoever of knowing:

"so grandma was in a car accident and now we have to talk her into giving up her license and moving into ALF. this should be fun."

(I'm sorry, shouldn't this stay in the family? Facebook is not your personal therapist. I did not ask to know this. TMI!)


Or a dissertation from that chick you've known since you were 5 who's obsessed with horses:

"Well Boost being out of shape and not running barrels in over a year and me never looking at a barrel while on him today... He hauls ass!!!!! he can move his behind while he left me at the second barrel... so proud of me baby. AND ROB LOPED ALL HIS PATTERNS.. The whole patterns even poles"

(You might try interaction with a human every now and then)

So really, the moral of the story is, if something you find to be momentous happens in your life and you think you'd like to put it on Facebook, don't!  Get a shrink, talk to your cat, eat your feelings, I don't care! Just don't post it on the internet.

Sex and the Sand Pit

So the last time I checked the title of the movie, it was called Sex and the City. Let it be noted that the City portion is an important part of this whole affair. So when you take that out of the equation you're left with three broads all on the verge (and one well into) menopause.

There isn't much to say about this movie because despite the fact that it was two and a half hours long, nothing happened. The characters are done, they've lived their lives, just let them be.

I guess a highlighted list of events would be this:

• Carrie and Big get into a dispute about whether or not to go out and have fun or sit at home and be bored, laying out the basic reason why people who are 20 years apart in age shouldn't be married
• Charlotte gets a braless nanny and waits until she's thousands of miles away from her husband and the nanny to freak out about the fact that her husband is thousands of miles away with a braless nanny
• Miranda hates her boss and quits her job
• Samantha spends most of her days taking hormone pills and applying creams in unsavory areas so that she can ward off menopause

One day, for some ridiculous reason, Samantha gets to take them all on a trip to the Middle East where:

• Miranda walks around Abu Dhabi spewing off annoying facts and mispronouncing words
• Even though all of Samantha's menopause drugs were siezed in customs, she conceeds to consume yams at an alarming rate along with continued attempts at screwing anything with a pulse
• Charlotte cries a lot blah blah blah
• And in a shocking twist of fate that's along the same premise of being sent on an all-inclusive trip to Abu Dabi, Carrie runs into Aiden and they share a kiss-awwww shucks. But what about Big you say? Well don't worry, apparently all it takes for him to get over it, is a few days of brooding and a black and white movie.

Anyway, the trip culminates with Samantha stripping down in front of the inhabitants of Abu Dhabi and throwing condoms everywhere. Rather than shooting her onsight and then dragging her carcass through the streets as they most likely would have (and probably should have) done in real life, we are instead sent on a rollicking adventure in which we follow our four middle aged protagonists running around in a spectacle reminicent of Road Runner trying to escape Wile E. Coyote.

If you have two and half hours of your life you're not going to miss, or a boyfriend you feel like torturing, then this is the movie for you.

My official rating? Bootleg at Best.

Strange Brew

Ever notice how people seem to love going to upscale restaurants so they can eat tiny portions of weird food and then pay too much for it? Well I have.

It's not that I have anything against different or nontraditional cooking, its just ridiculous when the only reason people exclaim about how much they love the food they're eating is because it's located in Cambridge and remotely related to Southeast Asia.

Take my latest experience with said dining places- Cambodian Cuisine.

I certainly have nothing against Cambodians in any capacity, I just haven't seen people flooding into Cambodia for the food. For example, in Cambodia, chicken vagina is considered to be something edible. I guess that's like a different kind of comfort food, right?

Anyway as soon as my friend called me up I knew I was in for some kind of offbeat culinary adventure. So off we went in rush hour traffic to the aforementioned restaurant. What I got was "Nataing." Their description? "Ground pork simmered in coconut milk with sliced garlic, crushed peanuts and chili pods; served with crispy jasmine rice." My description? A luke warm can of Ragoo meat sauce dumped on top of a rice cake that cost me 10 bucks and had me making a late night trip to a steakhouse.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with dabbling in something different. I like to dabble, I'm a dabbler, just not at $10 a pop.

Kids These Days...

One thing I won't ever understand is children. Why do people want them?

They're loud, they poop, they cry, and they make you hemorrage money like there's no tomorrow. Your social life goes down the tubes, and, if you're a woman, you generally become obese for 9 months. When they get older they just become more expensive, and even worse, some start to become crafty.

As previously mentioned, the place I spend my summers involves food and servicing the highly entitled. The main clientele involves old people and soccer mommies with their children. I have to say the children and old people have some striking similarities. Like, for example, their affinity for diapers. Or we could key in on their uncanny ability to mutter what they want and then throw a temper tantrum when you ask them to repeat. But today I would like to focus particularly on the young'ns.

A time long ago, a simpler time that is, I thought babies were cute little blobs you fed and dressed up, kind of like a gigantic doll, but without those creepy eyes that open and shut on their own. Well, during my tenure in food service I have come to realize that they are so much more than that. They truly are terrifying.

First of all, they make a wide range of sounds, kind of like bird calls.

Baby: Yap Yap Yap Yap
Me: Ahhhhh! Why is it doing that?! Is it hungry? Does it need a change?
Co-Worker: That means happy

Now why the hell would that mean happy? It isn't a laugh, it isn't a giggle. It's literally making the same chirping sound over and over, again and again. I'm being forced to take a language in order to graduate from college. I chose Spanish, perhaps they should have offered Baby.

Next is the stage where they toddle, or waddle, or bumble around doing whatever it is they do. I find this stage the scariest because they tend to run away from their parents at a surprisingly fast pace. This will either send adults running around in a panic chasing down their precious cargo or they'll hardly notice whilst their "adorable" children tear apart display cases. They seem to often have an affinity for Syrian bread.

Worst scene ever though:

Kid: *smiles
Me: *smiles back thinking, 'awww this one's kinda cute'
Kid: *runs foreword, firmly clamping down hands on display case
Me: *thinking, 'typical, I thought you were different, but I guess not'
Kid: *continues to smile, sticks out tongue and licks case. covering it amply in saliva
Me: What he hell are you DOING! Do you know how dirty that is?!

*Enter disgruntled parent, upset that I swore at their child...

Now so far these haven't been that bad. They don't actually get too annoying until they can speak. Speaking opens completely different doors for them. They can employ the ever effective techniques of begging (this works on most parents), if not, they proceed to wailing (they'll usually cave at this point out of embarrassment), or if they're smart, craftiness. This little girl stands out in my mind the most:

Girl: Mommy, Mommy! Look, potato pancakes! (a clear introduction to what she wants)
Mommy: That's nice honey (a clear (and failed) attempt at pretending not to notice her kid wants them)
Girl: But I want them! (this one's on the move, she's clearly skipped begging and progressed to wailing)
Mommy: Maybe another time (mmmm far too feeble a response, going to have to step it up if you want combat your little terror)
Girl: But I remember them from Hanukkah! (ding ding ding and we have a winner)
Mommy: Well, alright. Do you want two? (this religious reference has clearly warmed the cockles of her heart)
Girl: No! Three! (and she has clearly learned the art of milking it)

So, as you can see, children are terrifying in any shape and size. All I can do is stand back and smile, because no one wants to hear that their little bastard child is anything less than adorable, despite the fact that they are usually wayyyyy less than adorable.

Free Hugs!

Ahhh, actually I was kidding. If someone came charging towards me with a tight embrace in mind, I would probably run the hell away. But that being said lets talk for a moment about the hug.


There're comforting hugs, bear hugs, perfunctory I don't-know-you-but-since-you're-my-friend's-friend-I'm-giving-you-this-insincere-hug hugs (these are often paired with a fake kiss on the cheek), and even the most appalling- the sniper hug.


Yes, these hugs are usually pent up and dolled out at the most inconvenient and obnoxious times. For example, at wedding/funeral/family gathering you were unwillingly dragged to, some sort of aunt or awkward uncle, who you haven't seen since you were 8, will usually sneak up behind you and gasp in some sort of falsetto voice, "remember me?!?!!!" while simultaneously catching you in a death grip.


Next up there's the 2nd-grade-throw-back sniper hug. These hugs are usually deployed by girlfriends you've had since forever ago. The scenario generally starts off with you, the helpless victim, roaming off to class, from your car to any mundane errand or destination, or, if your pursuer is a particularly experienced attacker, in your very own home. Yep, nowhere is safe. These predators like to jump up behind you and cover your eyes, generally screeching things like, "Surprise it's me!" or "Guess whooooo!" Like, geee, I wonder who the hell else would sneak up behind me and clap their clammy, and mostly likely unsanitary, hands over my face? Hmmmm, who ever could that be?


The last and possibly most dangerous and annoying sniper of all is the college guy. This guy will scour down a campus and pick out every semi-attractive female in a one-mile radius and hunt everyone of them down on his way to class, a party, feeding time, ect. You name it, he's there, ready and waiting. They can usually be characterized by an overpopulated facebook friends list and an enormous wingspan ready to encompass two or three unsuspecting women at a time. A fraternity membership and gang of douchey friends are not required but usually involved.


So there you are. I hope you can now see that the word "hug" is really just the word "space-invader" disguised.

Captain Superiority Complex to the Rescue!

Under every bridge, there is a troll
Under every refrigerator, a cockroach that won't die.
In every class, an obnoxious know it all that won't shut up.

Don't bother trying to complain about your flat tire, they probably have an engine leak.
Don't mention your men troubles, their boyfriend probably cheated on them with their best friend and are still trying to mend their broken heart. *tear*
Basically whatever you think is wrong with your life, don't. Because they are sure to inform you that theirs is much, much worse.

Don't bother trying to take down notes in class peacefully, they will always correct your professor. Despite the fact that he or she probably has a PhD in the subject and has also been studying it their whole lives.
In fact don't try to ask any questions at all, because this person will always have a  smarter, more detailed question.

The reason I bring this person up at all is because recently one my lectures was lucky enough to have the author of a novel we were reading come and speak to us. During this lecture of about 60 people there were about 3 that insisted on showing off their obvious genius. Now I'm sure they're all bright individuals, but would we not think twice before try to inform the author of a book what his book means? No?

The only thing better than watching those who believe they are intellectually superior than all the rest make fools of themselves is watching said author shut them down.

Student: so what role did architecture play in this novel

Author: It was to help depict the setting

Student: Right. But what did it tell us about the characters? What did they emote through it?

Author: Uhhhm not much, it was really just there for setting purposes.

Yup you pretentious bastard, shut up and stop looking for a pat on the head.  Its nice to be involved and engaged. Its not as nice to speak just for the sake of speaking.
But no worries, the semester is over, you'll be able to tell whose in college because they'll emerge pale and pasty from their dorms gasping at the sunlight and fresh air having been locked in for the past week, so we won't have to deal with any of them for a few months.

Peace out cub scout! Its summer time :)

Slut!

I work at a lovely establishment we'll call the land where people's souls go to die. In the vast land where people's souls go to die there are many different departments. The one in which I work, deals heavily with customer service. This meaning that I spend a lot of my day nodding my head to every complaint, piss, and moan about things ranging from soup that's too hot to sub rolls that need the dough inside scooped out- only the issues of utmost importance.

But this day was a new day... A day like no other... A day with a sexual harassment complaint?

Oh yes my friends. Sexual. Harassment. Complaint.

So I would first like to give you a quick run through of the average demographics of my customers:

Gladys get my teeth! I need to go down the place where souls go die and
torture the girl behind the counter!

OK little Timmy, now badger the nice lady about which chicken
drumsticks you want.

OK, not that I have anything against uptight soccer mommies or old, saggy men, but when out on the prowl they aren't exactly my target audience. So I'm still not quite sure who it was that filed a complaint of "uncomfortable flirting," but whoever it was shouldn't flatter themselves. And furthermore who feels as though flirting is uncomfortable? Maybe this reflects badly on my flirting skills. Maybe I should punish all those who cross me by flirting with them. At any rate this will probably remain an unsolved mystery. As there are hundreds of people in that store a day it gets too tiring to come up with personalized greetings, therefore everyone pretty much gets the same routine. So the moral of the story kiddies, is the next time you think someone is hitting on you, don't. And even if you still do, don't report them- its a lot of paperwork.

Gleekism

Calling all gleeks! So I would just like to make the observation that Quinn Fabray seems to have deflated a bit, no? I think she has mastered the art of depregnifying herself.

Season 1 finale:



Last night's episode:



Sooooo, anyone else noticing a discrepancy?

I'm Concerned....

I love smartphones, and all the stuff you can do on them. You can talk, text, surf the web, get GPS and do all sorts of other useless crap.

Why walk outside and experience the weather when you can look at it on your phone?

Why drink beer when you can pretend to with this iPhone app?

Why watch TV on a normal sized screen when you can squint into
one that's roughly 3.5 inches?

While nothing would make me happier than paying .99 for an application called HelpMe! An app which basically amounts to a speed dial button for 911, because I'm sure paging through your apps is easier than just dialing 911, its time for people to give their phones a break and use them, well, as phones. The last time you used your phone, chances are you sent a text. Now, as a person who is currently in possession of an archaic cellphone and doesn't have texting on it at all, I understand that every now and then it would come in handy. Say when sitting in a boring class, hanging around at a boring job or just trying to avoid the ever awkward sexile. That being said, people still need to start speaking into their phones once in a while. Its like they're afraid of real human interaction.

This problem isn't even limited to friend to friend situations. We have become so inept at speaking to one another, that we now can't even order delivery. Want Domino's? Fear talking to that man designated at the other end of the phone line to take your order? No worries! just go online, check off your food, pump in your address and watch your order as its being created.

Stalker.

I'm not saying its a bad thing to do stuff in a new or different way. I'm saying its weird when people end up having more personal relationships with the devices created to supposedly increase human connectivity rather than with the humans they are being connected to.

Allo Govna!

My good friend and roommate is spending this semester in Leeds, England. Some words come to mind, I believe they are "lucky" and "bitch." As expected the culture over there is a tad different than here but the first thing she sent me upon her arrival was this"

"Blimey, I'm pissed, I think I'll make meself some bloody fish n' chips!"

In the U.S. college students everywhere are being begged not to drink and drive. Apparently in England the big plea is, don't drink and cook! I'm not so sure how one gets to this point. Never have I been sloshed and thought "I sure would love a pan-seared fillet mignon with rice pilaf and an asparagus side." Maybe some Raman at best. Being the curious lil monkey that I am, I wondered what other oddities our wooden toothed brethren have.

• 
  
  There are no Twinkies in the UK, in fact they don't have most of the candy we do. Imagine a world with no Reeses, no Hershey's and most upsetting, no Junior Mints. What a life. Apparently, and this is an official report, our chocolate sucks and Cadbury is the only way. Fear not though! Because you can go to this website if you so desire some sucky American candy.
• 
  
  Lingo- I'm pretty sure that by now most Americans know some British vernacular. Some popular ones seem to be snogging, wanker, bloke, and the adjective bloody being inserted bloody everywhere. But some newer and more fun ones are these: car park (a park for cars? or parking lot), dogs bollocks (excellent, that's what it means, not me exclaiming or anything. I'm not fully sure I actually believe anyone would say this), hooter (nose, so Hooters over there must be a much different kind of establishment?), if your an American and you're looking for a ride, don't, you should ask for a lift, and my personal favorite, bellend (use your imagination)
• 
  
  They have really good Indian food and apparently it'll burn a hole in your ass
• 
  
  Doctor Who- I can't actually get a hold of an episode to watch, but from what I understand its about a doctor who time travels and there's a phone box involved and every time there's a new doctor there's a new girl, like James Bond maybe? Anyway, British people love this show, its like the Lost of the UK.

So anyway, I'm all tapped out of fun facts for now. I guess we'll live to understand more about the intriguing people we affectionately refer to as limeys another day.

Cavemen?

I was having lunch with a friend the other day. Food? Pretty good. Prices? A little pricey. But as always I was in good company. This friend in particular rarely disappoints. So halfway through our burgers she plunks down this gem.

"Sometimes I imagine that I'm in caveman times and my boyfriend knocks me over the head with a club and drags me back to his cave. Then he goes back out and kills a sabertooth tiger and brings it back and we have sex on it."

To which I said, "uhhhhh......"

I have known both my friend and her boyfriend for quite some time and though I love them both dearly, I just don't think that he's ambitious enough to think up any of that, let alone do it. If anything she'd probably be the one manhandling both him and the sabertooth tigers.

Eventually I managed to open my mouth and have real words come out. So I said, "Really? How are you gonna do this though? Do you skin the tiger and do it on the fur like a throw rug or do you go at it on the carcass with the blood and guts spurting everywhere?"

At this point I recieved a blank stare.

I guess that wasn't really the reaction she was looking for, but curious minds want to know. There is no real ending to this random excerpt from lunch, it kind of just finished on the same note most things in my life do- with me scarfing the rest of a sirloin burger down in record time.

The End.

Annoying Ads.

A quick question.

How am I supposed to read SparkNotes in time for modern lit with this creepy ass baby staring back at me?

And what will my baby look like you ask? Well I sure as hell hope not this. Just saying.

Sensless Census

I took some time today to go through the U.S. Census that was mailed to my house the other day. I'm not sure who composed it but I would like to applaude them for their first two questions. They sent me into a fit of chuckles.

Question 1: How many people were living or staying in this house, apartment, or mobile home on April 1, 2010?

Pretty straight foreward right? I guess the fact that April 1, 2010 hasn't actually happened yet has slipped their minds, but its close enough I suppose.

OK, so question 2: Were there any additional people staying here April 1, 2010 that you did not include in Question 1?

I feel like a child being scolded for lying, as though to say "OK boys and girls, now is there ANYTHING else you want to tell us or will you have to go and sit in the naughty corner for five minutes?" but instead of kindly British lady sending you off to said corner, you have the government slapping a $500 fine on you. For serious guys?! aside from the obvious redundance is that really a question or common enough problem that it needs to be put on? Yup, I will never move out of the U.S. when it so freely provides this much humor.

Hooray for Dentists! Insert Sarcasm Here.

Went to the dentist today... I know, contain your jealousy please. When I was young I liked the dentist. I got out of school early, at that point in my life my dental hygiene was much more up to par, so it didn't hurt, and I always got ice cream afterwards.

Things have changed since then. Cleanings are scheduled for vacations, I rarely floss so it feels like she's taking and ax pick to my gums, and ice cream can be eaten at any time. At least I have a captive audience right? My hygienist is pretty chill and usually we have insightful discussions, like today for instance:

Me: Usually you can get a feeling for my social life
by looking at the state of my teeth.
Hygienist: How?
Me: Well, when its good I'm out late, and I come home,
fall asleep and forget to brush. How are they by
the way?
Hygienist: Slut.

Yup, Cindy is the shit. Unfortunately getting my teeth cleaned isn't. Yowch! And the verdict today is that my lower wisdom teeth will have to be removed this summer. Something to look forward to I guess.

Ex-lax Is Never The Answer

So since I have a paper to write, I like to procrastinate, and I have class in a mere 4 hours I figured its STORY TIME!!!!!

Tuesday about 5 pmish- I am out with my teammate, Helena, and my friend/Helena's cousin, Lindsay. We have just finished dinner at Judy's, an overpriced, under portioned restaurant that is admittedly quite scrumptious. Upon leaving I catch a glimpse of CVS and think back on the blockage of my bowels.

5:05 - I make a purchase at said CVS. Some ex-lax and post-its. Ex-lax to hopefully keep things flowing where they previously weren't and post-its because I like to stick them all over my books in hopes of making them look like they actually belong to an English major.

8:15- Chelsea has left and I can now commence taking my ex-lax in hopes of some relief.

11:00- Nothing has happened. Literally nothing. I sit. I wait. And still nothing

11:02- On the bright side i am really enjoying these post-its. So. Many. colors.

12:20- I read the back of the box. hmmm big WOOPS on that one. I guess I was supposed to take 2 as opposed to the one I had originally popped. o well its been 2 days since I've had a crap and i want it out now! So i took another. Better late than never right?

12:24- still reading the box. apparently it takes 6-12 hours to work. Like, who has that time!? I knew I should have gotten the extra strength.

1ish- i am deep in slumber having some sort of weird dream about sneaking home and stealing eggs from our house

11am- I wake up and much to my dismay still have not taken my rightful place on the throne

11:10- I consult myjellybean.com on the dream- apparently eggs are a sign of good luck in my future. hmmmm....

11:45- Off to class to hide behind my Spanish book in hope that mi profesora does not call on me (plans backfires but more on that later (or never for that matter))

noon- I have a consultory discussion with my mom, this also backfires, literally and metaphorically

12:20-2:15- Spanish is spoken (kind of), Vietnamese people are discussed, drool is wiped from desk and ahhh yess my grueling school day is over.

2:23- I arrive at our beloved dining hall, deciding to take my mom's advice, a decision I will later regret, I take 2 more ex-lax and begin the grand coffee chug o 2010. I figured for good measure I would top off my meal of "chikn' cutlet" yes
that is what they called it, with some ice cream. As i am mildly intolerant of lactose i assumed this could only speed up the process. and speed it up it did, just not right away.

4:03- I am farting up a STORM! thank god my roommate isn't around and more importantly thank god I can't smell. you see? its the small things that make life so grand...ish

6:35- Farting has seemed to cease and desist. I make the executive decision to squat, pun not intended, yet, in the Starbucks downtown in hopes that I'll be able to do some actual work rather than watch the puppy that can't get up, well, not get up, for the next three hours. plus who doesn't love peppermint hot chocolate right? Well i later find out that my ass doesn't. Thats who.

7:00- Grumble grumble grumble. ruhh rowwwww. and shes offffff ladies and gentleman, ducking around the aging hippie with some sort of soy something, vaulting over the yuppy tweeting away on her iPhone, thankfully evading the store employee, who no doubt just exiting from cleaning the very bathroom im lunging for and phew! O my Jehovah, my butt thankfully has hit the toilet seat just as God knows what come plummeting out of it.

7:04- I take a moment to feel bad for all those who have to go through colonoscopies, when, what fresh hell? again? repeat scenario but swap out hippy and yuppy for crappy guitarist, soccor mommy and two people on a date that will shape up to be very awkward and full of dead air.

7:10-10:20- Repeat every 15-20 min and stir in piece of lemon pound cake around 9:40 just for good measure.

10:45- Time to go home. since i have clearly destroyed the Starbucks bathroom as the barista is currently giving me the stink eye. I decided it was time to move on to greener (and cleaner) pastures.

10:50- Arrive home, eat a kids kitchen. I'm thinking that since I just shat out everything I have eaten in the last 36 hours I can afford to eat a lil sumthin sumthin. right? WRONG!

10:51- kids' kitchen successfully enters my stomach

10:59 -kids' kitchen successfully leaves my stomach in a show that could rival the pyrotechnic events that occur every fourth of July

11:20- I silently curse my own impatience and begin "writing my paper"

12:13- I am bored of "writing my paper" and decide to write this instead

1:26- I finish this and post it and then continue to actuallywrite my paper.

So, what can we take away from this? don't over dose on ex-lax for one, two if are going to then don't accompany it with coffee (and ice cream), three don't call my mother asking for advice call someone with some modicum of knowledge pertaining to medical issues, four, make sure you DO go to a Starbucks or other public area lest your hall mates permanently shun you for stinking up your bathroom. in these situations it is always best to ruin someone else's toilet.

And that boys and girls is my tale of woe.

thankyou and goodnight.

And on an Oscar side note....

Thank god for YouTube! If it weren't for them I might actually have to stop procrastinating and do work everyonce in a while...

Stuff I Hate About College :(

OK kiddies, so every yin has its yang, which brings be to my next post.... The things about college I'm not so much a fan of. Not that college hasn't been good to me and there will be many things about it that I'll miss, but for the time being I'm just gonna throw out a few things that I won't.

1.) Waiting in lines. Lines for food. Lines for computers. Lines for printing. Lines to pay bills (I mean, I'm giving you money, wouldn't you want to take that as quickly as possible?). Lines for health services. Lines to sign into your room. Lines to sign out. So yeah, college involves lots of lines.

2.) The infamous Freshman Fifteen. or in my case freshman fifty. OK well no, not THAT much, but seriously I really packed it on when I started school. First of all the dining halls are all you can eat. Yum Yum you say? Well I'll agree but the problem there is that generally you go on to eat all you can eat, even if you don't like it, and trust me you'll grow to hate it. Free soft serve ice cream? Come on, that's a no brainer. And after every meal you'll meander on home to then spend a large portion of your evening on the toilet, silently cursing your own lack of self control, thinking, tomorrow is a new day, a better day, full of opportunity to not eat, uh, everything. But alas! The lure of the dining halls is too strong! You succumb and history lives on to repeat itself...

...OK never fear, after a week or two of living away from home and getting used to eating whatever, whenever and how much you want, you'll get over it. Your waist will restore itself to its natural size and all will be right with the world.

3.) There are people freakin everywhere! OK I know this was in the things I love about college too, but there really is a duality to it. Now as previously stated I think its really cool that there are people everywhere, always. It keeps life interesting because people are always doing goofy shit. But sometimes I don't want to be woken up at 2AM on Tuesday night to the people next door doing whipits and screaming whilst playing halo. Sometimes I want to eat dinner in peace and not have to listen to some girl whine about the possibility of her VD test coming back positive. TMI hun! Sometimes I just want to take a dump in private without people roaming in and out to relieve themselves next to me.

4.)Laundry. I don't have an aversion to doing my laundry or anything I've been doing it for years now. What I have an aversion to is walking down 4 flights of stairs, paying $1.50 for a load and then going up and down all the damn stairs again. Now up till this point, other than the price, I can't say I have any serious qualms with dorm laundry. It is now that one must face their greatest laundry adversary- the dryer. The dryers without a doubt will not dry your clothes. It usually takes a couple cycles of this to actually work. maybe. if your lucky. Basically I end up hanging my clothes around my room a la Spanish Harlem. It gets the job done but everything always feels starchy ughhh. So you can either prepare to dump $5-6 on a load, wear gross feeling clothing or venture off campus to a laundromat.

5.) The overall cleanliness (or lack thereof) of dorm life. I have lived in many dorms over the years some nicer (and cleaner) than others. First fallacy I need to clear up- girls are not cleaner than boys, in any capacity. My first semester ever I was stuck on an all girls floor. On top of listening to the high pitched shrieks and squeals that erupted with upsetting frequency from rooms every time The Bachelor was on, the bathrooms and hallways were nasty! I mean what do we not understand about flushing after using it? Or Tampons go in the box? Not the ground, the toilet or the shower. Ughh. Why?! The coed bathrooms I eventually became accustomed to were always way better kept up. Who the hell knows why? Yet another unsolved mystery.

So those are some of the things I am just not going to miss about school. They certainly don't overshadow all the awesome stuff that goes on, but I'll be happy to leave it behind. What do you like or hate about school? Thoughts?

Stuff I Love About College :)

So in my tenure here at school I have to say I've enjoyed myself quite a bit. College is a pretty cool place and you'll probably never get another chance to live in the manner that you do when your here unless you want people to think your crazy or a bum or something. So, I present things about college that I love!

1.) SLEEP! Oh the sleeping possibilities! I mean when in my life have I or will I be able to stay up as late as I want, sleep in till about 2, roll out of bed, sit in class for 50 minutes and then return to my room for a nap in order to prepare for the weekend? I believe the word your is NEVER! In college there must be some sort of space time continuum paradigm thinger maboble where you literally have done less than you have in your entire life but still manage to rack up more hours of sleep than you have before. Unsolved Mystery.

2.) People EVERYWHERE! people in your dorm, dorm room, in the bathroom, all over campus. They're throwing Frisbees by day, parties by night, food in the dining halls, water balloons when its hot, snowballs when its cold. And on top of all that they're usually some of the most creative people too. Like the invention of the soda can-icepack (step 1. take a soda can, Step 2. duck tape it to whatever seems to be ailing you) or the usage of lunch trays as sleds! Say what you will, college students know how to be resourceful when the occasion calls for it.

3.) Interior Decorating- I have posters hanging from my ceiling, Christmas lights up all year long and cinder blocks pretending to be a bookshelf. Any other time in my life and people would think me a hobo. nuff said.

4.) Foreigners! I know a bajillion people flood into the U.S. everyday, but when do you actually get the chance to meet them? Well for me at least the answer is never or rarely. Now lets put all those jokes about hard to understand TA's and grade curve destroying overachievers aside and learn to appreciate our foreign brethren. Seriously, I have learned a lot of random crap about other places since my beginnings at school. Like that in Ethiopia 1AM is at sunrise. Makes sense right? Or that Australians only wear Uggs to the beach, which just sounds uncomfortable. Or that Brits seem to relish eating a truly horrible jam-type substance called marmise. Meeting these people have also helped expand my vocabulary. For example I can now use the term "bogan" properly in a sentence; and if I ever find myself in Australia and trying to insult someone by calling them white trash I'll be all set. Another favorite of mine is the British term "bellend" which I'll let you put together;)

5.) Resources! Colleges these days are really on top of their shit when it comes to keeping the bright young minds of the future informed. Thanks to my school I have a massive library, which I, uh, frequent quite often.... super fast Internet, and over a hundred channels including several HBOs and showtime. Because what student's education wouldn't be complete without a little showtime? I really have learned how to multitask and can now youtube, facebook, watch TV, text, vlog, blog, ect. all from the comfort of my dorm room. So thank you college, for allowing me to really cultivate my abilities of procrastination.

Not that the value of my education thus far has been limited to those things, I think schooling may have entered the equation at some point, I'm just saying they're the big five that stick out in my mind.