I'm thinking that this is perhaps the most beautiful song in the world. It was originally by Peter Gabriel, but I like this version so much better. It is fully of that wintry happy-sadness that makes Justin Vernon's stage name, Bon Iver, totally appropriate.
"Come Talk to Me" by Bon Iver
Tell me what you think- I'm curious.
Love,
M.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Just Another Tuesday
Lovers and Haters,
Greetings. C is back from a long blogging hiatus. She greatly apologizes for her absence. Things have been in a whirlwind recently in her life. Ok this is not compeltely true. She may have just not made blogging a priority and for this she is truly sorry.
Exciting things are happening every day. Like the Harry Potter movie coming out on Thursday, even though today is Tuesday. Regardless, C gets stressed and nervous about the premiering of Harry Potter films. For those of you who know C, there are two widely held beliefs about her that are incorrect. Most people who know C--even those of you who know C very well--will almost definitely assume that she 1. loves roller coasters and 2. is a Harry Potter fanatic. Well, my dear friends, you would be absolutely wrong on both. C despises roller coasters (totally irrelevant) and has not read a single Harry Potter book. I know. Let's shoot her and burn her and throw her in a pond to see if she floats, right? (An ironic test considering the circumstances....). Regardless, NO ONE likes that girl who sits next to them in the Harry Potter movies and asks what a horcrux is more than once (and yes, this has happened in the past--she was afterwards mocked indefinitely). So whats a girl to do? Sit in confusion for three hours among wizard hatted fanatics? Gasp--not even go? There is no good answer. If you have any suggestions, though, C welcomes them with open arms.
In other news, our heroine Ellen has been hard at work at the University Newspaper. We commend her for her recent election, and she would like to thank all of those who did not run against her--which was, well, everyone. Regardless, had ANYONE run against her, we know she would have prevailed. Hoorah. From what little C has seen of Oliver and Ellen, they always seem to be matching. Matching sweaters, that is. It's adorable in a creepy sort of way. It makes C wonder if they're doing this on purpose. Perhaps the 8th great mystery of the world?
M has been making it through--doing good work, writing good blog posts. She spends a lot of her study time "upstairs" AKA the top bunk. When you live in a room that's slightly larger than a closet, you must make do. She plans on departing next weekend to the Harry Potter-esque school, and we will miss her while she is gone. I will let her spill on her life much later.
As for C's life, Quinn and she have been getting on famously. Quinn, as it so happens, is similar in many ways to C, so from time to time there is clashing, but all in good fun. Last weekend, Q and C went to the movies to see her choice: "Town" and then his choice "Morning Glory". Upside-Down universe, no? Regardless, C continued to remind Q how illegal this was as they snuck from one theatre to the next. And, allow me to reassure you if you were wondering already, 4 1/2 hours is a very long time to spend in one movie theatre--especially with a transition of high-energy police chases to Rachel McAdams prancing down the street to Natasha Benningfield. A good evening nonetheless.
Two nights ago at the Dining Hall aka the Shit House, Lee entertained C and M and E with his knowledge of zodiac symbols. Fascinating. Of course, it is probably all a load of hooey--no offense Lee--but it's interesting to see if your "symbol" correctly describes you. C is very skeptical of such voodoo since three days before her 19th birthday she decided to get her palm read. "Crystal" made her pay $10 and then told her she could tell C had been very sick as a child, and now most certainly wanted to be a nurse. Both couldn't be further from the truth. Sigh. What a waste of $10.
Eek! Boss is back. Gotta dash.
XOXO,
C
Greetings. C is back from a long blogging hiatus. She greatly apologizes for her absence. Things have been in a whirlwind recently in her life. Ok this is not compeltely true. She may have just not made blogging a priority and for this she is truly sorry.
Exciting things are happening every day. Like the Harry Potter movie coming out on Thursday, even though today is Tuesday. Regardless, C gets stressed and nervous about the premiering of Harry Potter films. For those of you who know C, there are two widely held beliefs about her that are incorrect. Most people who know C--even those of you who know C very well--will almost definitely assume that she 1. loves roller coasters and 2. is a Harry Potter fanatic. Well, my dear friends, you would be absolutely wrong on both. C despises roller coasters (totally irrelevant) and has not read a single Harry Potter book. I know. Let's shoot her and burn her and throw her in a pond to see if she floats, right? (An ironic test considering the circumstances....). Regardless, NO ONE likes that girl who sits next to them in the Harry Potter movies and asks what a horcrux is more than once (and yes, this has happened in the past--she was afterwards mocked indefinitely). So whats a girl to do? Sit in confusion for three hours among wizard hatted fanatics? Gasp--not even go? There is no good answer. If you have any suggestions, though, C welcomes them with open arms.
In other news, our heroine Ellen has been hard at work at the University Newspaper. We commend her for her recent election, and she would like to thank all of those who did not run against her--which was, well, everyone. Regardless, had ANYONE run against her, we know she would have prevailed. Hoorah. From what little C has seen of Oliver and Ellen, they always seem to be matching. Matching sweaters, that is. It's adorable in a creepy sort of way. It makes C wonder if they're doing this on purpose. Perhaps the 8th great mystery of the world?
M has been making it through--doing good work, writing good blog posts. She spends a lot of her study time "upstairs" AKA the top bunk. When you live in a room that's slightly larger than a closet, you must make do. She plans on departing next weekend to the Harry Potter-esque school, and we will miss her while she is gone. I will let her spill on her life much later.
As for C's life, Quinn and she have been getting on famously. Quinn, as it so happens, is similar in many ways to C, so from time to time there is clashing, but all in good fun. Last weekend, Q and C went to the movies to see her choice: "Town" and then his choice "Morning Glory". Upside-Down universe, no? Regardless, C continued to remind Q how illegal this was as they snuck from one theatre to the next. And, allow me to reassure you if you were wondering already, 4 1/2 hours is a very long time to spend in one movie theatre--especially with a transition of high-energy police chases to Rachel McAdams prancing down the street to Natasha Benningfield. A good evening nonetheless.
Two nights ago at the Dining Hall aka the Shit House, Lee entertained C and M and E with his knowledge of zodiac symbols. Fascinating. Of course, it is probably all a load of hooey--no offense Lee--but it's interesting to see if your "symbol" correctly describes you. C is very skeptical of such voodoo since three days before her 19th birthday she decided to get her palm read. "Crystal" made her pay $10 and then told her she could tell C had been very sick as a child, and now most certainly wanted to be a nurse. Both couldn't be further from the truth. Sigh. What a waste of $10.
Eek! Boss is back. Gotta dash.
XOXO,
C
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
"Before their eyes in sudden view appear the secrets of the hoary deep."
Hey, pals. I guess it's a little late for this dramatic retelling of weekend events since it's the middle of the week(!!!), but these tales are just too amusing to go untold.
The main attraction of Friday night was a viewing of The Exorcist. Ellen and I snuggled up with one of our friends and occasionally covered our eyes and held each other, but it really wasn't as frightening as our parents told us. None of us had bad dreams, which was a pleasant surprise. C probably would have had bad dreams if she had been there, but she stood us up for Quinn. I forgive her though. I would probably occasionally like to spend time with my boy toy if I had one.
The events of Saturday-day were not very exciting for me, but they were pretty epic for Ellen and Oliver. To celebrate O's birthday, E took him on an adventure around the area on the most lovely of fall days. I was not there, so I cannot provide all the juicy deets, but basically, it is safe to say that these two have been pretty couple-y as of late, whether they want to acknowledge it officially or not. My approval has been stamped on their whatevership, though, and clearly, that's what matters.
Saturday night is when things started to get exciting around here, as one would hope they would at a college campus. E, O, and C were kind enough to join me at an open mic night hosted by a pretty neat club. I hate to break it to you, folks, but we (maybe with the exception of O) were those annoying people sitting in the back row, gracing the world with our witty, whispered commentary of the show and its attendees. That night we saw a very diverse crowd:
In breaking news, C will likely be starting a Twitter feed about the daily condition of the grapefruit in the dining hall. Yes, this is a very pressing issue considering that it is one of the 3 recognizable fruits available on a daily basis.
* * * * *
I really have little else of significance to say, so I will leave you with a series of texts from the past few days. Some of these are from within our little circle; some are not. Regardless, they made me lol, but that might just be because I try to make myself seem cool by posting horribly uncool things about myself on this blog.
"was doing the fake talkin' on the phone thing when you texted me. i'm so flyyy."
"you're the brown sugar to my grapefruit."
"saw cute boy walking into the building and then dumped out my nalgene to have an excuse to go refill it. got a 2 minute convo out of it. mlia.
"just heard a guy singing 'uptown squirrel'."
"There was this one time we made out to an acoustic version of 'Straight Outta Compton.'"
From the Queen of Good But Possibly Boring Decisions,
M.
The main attraction of Friday night was a viewing of The Exorcist. Ellen and I snuggled up with one of our friends and occasionally covered our eyes and held each other, but it really wasn't as frightening as our parents told us. None of us had bad dreams, which was a pleasant surprise. C probably would have had bad dreams if she had been there, but she stood us up for Quinn. I forgive her though. I would probably occasionally like to spend time with my boy toy if I had one.
The events of Saturday-day were not very exciting for me, but they were pretty epic for Ellen and Oliver. To celebrate O's birthday, E took him on an adventure around the area on the most lovely of fall days. I was not there, so I cannot provide all the juicy deets, but basically, it is safe to say that these two have been pretty couple-y as of late, whether they want to acknowledge it officially or not. My approval has been stamped on their whatevership, though, and clearly, that's what matters.
Saturday night is when things started to get exciting around here, as one would hope they would at a college campus. E, O, and C were kind enough to join me at an open mic night hosted by a pretty neat club. I hate to break it to you, folks, but we (maybe with the exception of O) were those annoying people sitting in the back row, gracing the world with our witty, whispered commentary of the show and its attendees. That night we saw a very diverse crowd:
- Drunk girl in front of us who was really good at ruining symbolic silences. Even we didn't do that.
- One, or perhaps several of those characters Ellen blogged about awhile back.
- Hipsters in plaid. A lot of plaid. It was a basically a giant plaid party.
- An Asian-Australian (best accent ever) performing acoustic piano versions of "Hey Ya!" and "Birthday Sex"
- A white boy rapping. Or trying to rap.
- The cutest guitarist I ever did see. I found his forearms supremely attractive as he played his guitar. C and E (and especially O) did not understand this infatuation.
- Several boy-girl duos trying to be She and Him or Matt and Kim. Some succeeded. Most failed.
- Our new best friend (though he doesn't know it yet), the king of stand-up.
Needless to say, even when the music was questionable, we found ways to entertain ourselves through good old-fashioned people-watching.
After more than two hours of musical entertainment, C and E hung out with their respective boy toys as I made my way to the event's after-party. The following text I sent to C sums up the night rather well:
"don't know what to do with myself. don't think i'm good at going to parties."
After giving up on trying to flirt with all the 3.5 attractive, seemingly straight males at this party, and after realizing that drinking that much cheap beer would not actually give me the magical social powers needed to seduce boys, I left the festivities for the comfort and solace of my dorm room. Here are some texts that I sent in my less-than-sober state. (These are letter for letter, so you will see that I was really not that far gone. I left the party making fun of a guy who was much more schwastey than I was.)
"C, right now i am in my room drinking quarts of water at a time and dancing with myself in order to recover. this is what happens without you."
To E: "hey bud i've had 2 nalgenes of water and am on my way to recovery i hope. i am going to use some of your intense refrigerated medicine for my face lurker- hope you don't mind."
To summarize, the night was a giant, hilarious fail. I talked to senior boys in the least exciting way possible. I ran into a giant mass of annoying co-workers who don't even know people in the club I mentioned, but were still let into the party. I was intimidated by hipster upperclassmen girls who were actually totally heinous. Whatever. These events were all preferable to the other possible outcomes, such as keeping it less-than-classy and doing something I would have regretted. So I guess even failure is a good thing sometimes.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I really have little else of significance to say, so I will leave you with a series of texts from the past few days. Some of these are from within our little circle; some are not. Regardless, they made me lol, but that might just be because I try to make myself seem cool by posting horribly uncool things about myself on this blog.
"was doing the fake talkin' on the phone thing when you texted me. i'm so flyyy."
"you're the brown sugar to my grapefruit."
"saw cute boy walking into the building and then dumped out my nalgene to have an excuse to go refill it. got a 2 minute convo out of it. mlia.
"just heard a guy singing 'uptown squirrel'."
"There was this one time we made out to an acoustic version of 'Straight Outta Compton.'"
From the Queen of Good But Possibly Boring Decisions,
M.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Hump day.
"Greetings, loved ones. Let us take you on a journey..."--Snoop Dogg
E's outing with Oliver on Friday was quite successful. E is making strong and steady gains, so she and O are moving at an appropriate pace, we find. C and I hung out with the two of them tonight, and they have won our stamp of approval. Nothing is official [yet], but we majorly approve of this and hope it continues serving E and O well (yes, I have knocked on the wood for us all).
Unfortunately, Jack is not faring so well on the love front. He and his girl have had an apocalyptic falling-out once and for all, or so we think. He is hurting, but we are here for him. Last night, there were some tears and story sharing and C even got a little choked up. Just a little. Because, well, here we all were, 18 years old, in Room 123, discussing the meaning of love and life and loss at approximately 12:23 AM on a Wednesday morning. And, in all seriousness, in those moments C definitely learned more than she did in any of her previous three classes earlier that day. Maybe that's why we go to college.
M's life is good but not extremely eventful. She's just workin' and kind of developing ADD in the sense that a lack of pressure just gives her all the more reason to procrastinate and screw herself over. There have been several attempts to meet straight males, all of which have failed so hard. Perhaps this is a sign that she's destined to be with Paul after all. She'd probably be okay with that, but the fact that she can't even expand her circle of guy friends is kind of sad.
Meantime, C has become a goldfish. No kidding. She eats everything in sight. It could be due to the fact that the food at the University Cafeteria is shit, or perhaps her newly acquired job at the bar is contributing as well. And yes, it is a bar. A candy bar, that is. And for some reason C finds it hilarious to tell people she works in a bar and then add that it only sells candy. Part of her job description is "tasting" to figure out what certain mysteries covered in chocolate are. She can't complain.
On the male front, C swore off men long enough to find a boyfriend. Yes, like a real-life boyfriend. Scary, right? But she assumes this is just how the college world works. C and "Quinn" are facebook official. They smooch in public. They go out to dinner. And sometimes, just sometimes, hold hands. Crazars, no? Such is the world.
Shit. Just lost a pretzel.
TFTD: You look just like Maebe from Arrested Development.
[Aside: C looks like Maeby as much as this looks like this. ]
From C to M: I'm ass-cited, in the words of my six-year-old neighbor. He also has trouble with K's and called Garfield "titty tat."
Asscitingly yours,
C. & M.
E's outing with Oliver on Friday was quite successful. E is making strong and steady gains, so she and O are moving at an appropriate pace, we find. C and I hung out with the two of them tonight, and they have won our stamp of approval. Nothing is official [yet], but we majorly approve of this and hope it continues serving E and O well (yes, I have knocked on the wood for us all).
Unfortunately, Jack is not faring so well on the love front. He and his girl have had an apocalyptic falling-out once and for all, or so we think. He is hurting, but we are here for him. Last night, there were some tears and story sharing and C even got a little choked up. Just a little. Because, well, here we all were, 18 years old, in Room 123, discussing the meaning of love and life and loss at approximately 12:23 AM on a Wednesday morning. And, in all seriousness, in those moments C definitely learned more than she did in any of her previous three classes earlier that day. Maybe that's why we go to college.
M's life is good but not extremely eventful. She's just workin' and kind of developing ADD in the sense that a lack of pressure just gives her all the more reason to procrastinate and screw herself over. There have been several attempts to meet straight males, all of which have failed so hard. Perhaps this is a sign that she's destined to be with Paul after all. She'd probably be okay with that, but the fact that she can't even expand her circle of guy friends is kind of sad.
Meantime, C has become a goldfish. No kidding. She eats everything in sight. It could be due to the fact that the food at the University Cafeteria is shit, or perhaps her newly acquired job at the bar is contributing as well. And yes, it is a bar. A candy bar, that is. And for some reason C finds it hilarious to tell people she works in a bar and then add that it only sells candy. Part of her job description is "tasting" to figure out what certain mysteries covered in chocolate are. She can't complain.
On the male front, C swore off men long enough to find a boyfriend. Yes, like a real-life boyfriend. Scary, right? But she assumes this is just how the college world works. C and "Quinn" are facebook official. They smooch in public. They go out to dinner. And sometimes, just sometimes, hold hands. Crazars, no? Such is the world.
Shit. Just lost a pretzel.
TFTD: You look just like Maebe from Arrested Development.
[Aside: C looks like Maeby as much as this looks like this. ]
From C to M: I'm ass-cited, in the words of my six-year-old neighbor. He also has trouble with K's and called Garfield "titty tat."
Asscitingly yours,
C. & M.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
What is happening in here?
Hello, comrades. I am currently in the library looking immensely fashionable and cute because I looked so heinous for the greater part of the day and am trying to make up for it. I even brought out the très chic pink lipstick. It brings out the color in my eyes and makes me look great, or so I tell myself. I may just look like I drank a bit too much red Kool Aid. Regardless, I have even sat myself down at a table facing all the people walking by in the hopes that my bright lips might help me lure in a decent, straight male. Ha. Let's just go ahead and say this will not be happening, especially since I am now done with my work for tomorrow and therefore have no reason to stay here after I finish this post, unless I want to watch Weeds. However, I would probably rather do that in the privacy of my dorm room because I don't want all the hypothetical men I lure in to think I'm one of those dumb girls who just goes to the library just to watch TV shows. Not like I haven't already started my Netflix account in front of the cute guy in my lecture yesterday or anything. Not like any guys have actually walked by since I got here about an hour ago.
* * * * *
The other morning C and I combined forces and took on the dining hall bright and early. Since she arrived before me, she found us a table. However, the table was not a table, but a large booth better suited for about 8 people. I commented to C about how glad I was to have room for all of my male suitors. Too bad they are all non-existent. Yes, there is Paul, but we are officially single, rather far apart in terms of physical distance, and not entirely functional, but working on it. Anyway, sad but true fact of my life: Friday night presented the first occasion on which an attractive, seemingly suitable straight male has asked for my number in college. I'm just telling myself that I'm taking baby steps. That must be why I haven't heard anything more from him. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Perhaps I will just lure in the men with my Halloween costume this weekend...it's actually not that scandy, but I think it's definitely something to talk about.
Speaking of Halloween costumes/suits, C has so many suitors she doesn't even have a suit to wear. (I believe that quote was taken from some emo song I listened to at the age of 13.) Okay, I might be exaggerating. However, she is now officially not a single lady! I will leave the disclosure of any details up to her, though.
Also on the topic of suits, Lee, C, Ellen, and I tried to get Frank in his birthday suit last night! No, not that kind of birthday suit. We're talking about the Snuggie Varsity XXL that we purchased in honor of our good friend's 19th. Unfortunately he refused to fully put it on because of how musty and chemical it smelled. We're hoping to see him shake his little tush on the catwalk in full Snuggie garb soon, though. We'll alert you immediately when it happens.
Another piece of news that we have decided is worthy of GCBIMH is Ellen's new budding romance. She and Oliver have potential, but she isn't comfortable disclosing too much since she doesn't want to jinx it. They have plans to go on an excursion tomorrow, but depending on the price, E may foot her own bill if it seems that that would be a strategic move to help prolong what could turn into a relationship. This is a huge step considering that E usually rocks things old school and takes advantage of all the free things a girl can get out of a boy who likes her. =)
I am now bored out of my gourd and am going to sashay back to my dorm room where I will soon be watching a movie with Ellen as we drink sleepytime tea. THIRSTY THURSDAYY WOOOOO!!!!
Yeah. No.
Boredly yours,
M.
* * * * *
The other morning C and I combined forces and took on the dining hall bright and early. Since she arrived before me, she found us a table. However, the table was not a table, but a large booth better suited for about 8 people. I commented to C about how glad I was to have room for all of my male suitors. Too bad they are all non-existent. Yes, there is Paul, but we are officially single, rather far apart in terms of physical distance, and not entirely functional, but working on it. Anyway, sad but true fact of my life: Friday night presented the first occasion on which an attractive, seemingly suitable straight male has asked for my number in college. I'm just telling myself that I'm taking baby steps. That must be why I haven't heard anything more from him. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Perhaps I will just lure in the men with my Halloween costume this weekend...it's actually not that scandy, but I think it's definitely something to talk about.
Speaking of Halloween costumes/suits, C has so many suitors she doesn't even have a suit to wear. (I believe that quote was taken from some emo song I listened to at the age of 13.) Okay, I might be exaggerating. However, she is now officially not a single lady! I will leave the disclosure of any details up to her, though.
Also on the topic of suits, Lee, C, Ellen, and I tried to get Frank in his birthday suit last night! No, not that kind of birthday suit. We're talking about the Snuggie Varsity XXL that we purchased in honor of our good friend's 19th. Unfortunately he refused to fully put it on because of how musty and chemical it smelled. We're hoping to see him shake his little tush on the catwalk in full Snuggie garb soon, though. We'll alert you immediately when it happens.
Another piece of news that we have decided is worthy of GCBIMH is Ellen's new budding romance. She and Oliver have potential, but she isn't comfortable disclosing too much since she doesn't want to jinx it. They have plans to go on an excursion tomorrow, but depending on the price, E may foot her own bill if it seems that that would be a strategic move to help prolong what could turn into a relationship. This is a huge step considering that E usually rocks things old school and takes advantage of all the free things a girl can get out of a boy who likes her. =)
I am now bored out of my gourd and am going to sashay back to my dorm room where I will soon be watching a movie with Ellen as we drink sleepytime tea. THIRSTY THURSDAYY WOOOOO!!!!
Yeah. No.
Boredly yours,
M.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thoughts from an Approachable Human
To whom it may concern:
Greeting from Friday Fun Day. C here--back after what seems like an eternal hiatus. Sorry about my leave of absence: midterms kind of bit me in the butt (that phrase REALLY doesn't work past tense) and last weekend I traveled to the beautifully trashy Jersey Shore for a campaign trip. Regardless, we did not return until around 1 AM on Sunday night which, obviously, left me TONS of time to complete my work for the week. Needless to say, I did not go to my first class on Monday morning. Yes, it was the first class I'd ever skipped in my life. To celebrate, I painted my nails black and listened to tunes by the Queen of Angst, Kelly Clarkson. It was epic.
Anyhow. To the topic of today's post. Recently, M and I have been discussing (with the occassional input from Jack) what makes someone approachable. As in, what someone has to be like, what kind of vibe they have to have, in order for random people to just want to talk to them. Dear readers, let me assure you, I am the missing link in this experiment. I have the approachability gene--wherever it came from, God knows, but for those of you who think it is a blessing, you are incorrect. It is a curse.
I have yet to go a full seven days of life without at the very least three instances of random encounters. And by random encounters I mean complete strangers coming up to me and striking up a conversation. Perhaps I just look like I know where I'm going? Or I just love to help? Here--allow me to cite some of the most recent examples:
1. Last week, standing in the stir fry line in our dining hall, and alternative male in front of me turns around and says, in a heavy accent, "Um, excuse me, what do you think are the three largest issues facing America today?" Seriously? I'm pretty sure I was wearing bedroom slippers at the time--it'd been a rough day. After I did my best to respond, he explained he wasn't from America. I asked him if he was visiting and he said no, he had been a student at my University for three years. Ok.
2. Monday, waiting in line in a public place when a park ranger comes up to me and asks me about my t-shirt. Before I can answer, he has about a billion other questions about my life which then, for some unknown reason, launches him into a discussion of Baltimore (I can assure you, I have absolutely NOTHING to do with Baltimore). He regaled me with stories of the "Kinetics in Art" museum for the following 15 minutes.
3. Getting off public transportation today, an older man looks at me, completely baffled. He probably hadn't seen a female since he escaped from the assylum. After giving me the standard up-and-down roughly three times, he sees that I saw him do this and, apparently, whatever dignity and social decency he had left reminded him that that was actually rude, and not socially acceptable. He then stammers out: "d-d-do you know if there were delays?" What the hell kind of question is that?
I mean, is this normal? M claims this never happens to her, but we agree, that M comes off as more than intimidating in a first impression. Jack believes that I just have an approachable face--that I seem more approachable then I actually am (backhanded compliment, Jack?).
If you have any insights on this, please share. Gotta get back to husband searching in Fortune 400.
I shake you warmly by the hand,
C
Greeting from Friday Fun Day. C here--back after what seems like an eternal hiatus. Sorry about my leave of absence: midterms kind of bit me in the butt (that phrase REALLY doesn't work past tense) and last weekend I traveled to the beautifully trashy Jersey Shore for a campaign trip. Regardless, we did not return until around 1 AM on Sunday night which, obviously, left me TONS of time to complete my work for the week. Needless to say, I did not go to my first class on Monday morning. Yes, it was the first class I'd ever skipped in my life. To celebrate, I painted my nails black and listened to tunes by the Queen of Angst, Kelly Clarkson. It was epic.
Anyhow. To the topic of today's post. Recently, M and I have been discussing (with the occassional input from Jack) what makes someone approachable. As in, what someone has to be like, what kind of vibe they have to have, in order for random people to just want to talk to them. Dear readers, let me assure you, I am the missing link in this experiment. I have the approachability gene--wherever it came from, God knows, but for those of you who think it is a blessing, you are incorrect. It is a curse.
I have yet to go a full seven days of life without at the very least three instances of random encounters. And by random encounters I mean complete strangers coming up to me and striking up a conversation. Perhaps I just look like I know where I'm going? Or I just love to help? Here--allow me to cite some of the most recent examples:
1. Last week, standing in the stir fry line in our dining hall, and alternative male in front of me turns around and says, in a heavy accent, "Um, excuse me, what do you think are the three largest issues facing America today?" Seriously? I'm pretty sure I was wearing bedroom slippers at the time--it'd been a rough day. After I did my best to respond, he explained he wasn't from America. I asked him if he was visiting and he said no, he had been a student at my University for three years. Ok.
2. Monday, waiting in line in a public place when a park ranger comes up to me and asks me about my t-shirt. Before I can answer, he has about a billion other questions about my life which then, for some unknown reason, launches him into a discussion of Baltimore (I can assure you, I have absolutely NOTHING to do with Baltimore). He regaled me with stories of the "Kinetics in Art" museum for the following 15 minutes.
3. Getting off public transportation today, an older man looks at me, completely baffled. He probably hadn't seen a female since he escaped from the assylum. After giving me the standard up-and-down roughly three times, he sees that I saw him do this and, apparently, whatever dignity and social decency he had left reminded him that that was actually rude, and not socially acceptable. He then stammers out: "d-d-do you know if there were delays?" What the hell kind of question is that?
I mean, is this normal? M claims this never happens to her, but we agree, that M comes off as more than intimidating in a first impression. Jack believes that I just have an approachable face--that I seem more approachable then I actually am (backhanded compliment, Jack?).
If you have any insights on this, please share. Gotta get back to husband searching in Fortune 400.
I shake you warmly by the hand,
C
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Guest Blog #2: Lee
Hey everyone!
This is Lee. M and C have started a series of guest blog updates where you can hear from some of the other characters playing roles in this fiasco called freshman year.
So, basically, I have stumbled upon a new and exciting opportunity. I'm in the executive board for a club on campus and at our latest event, we hosted a diplomat to come and speak to a group of students about life abroad and working for the government. All that jazz, ya know? Part of my job was to be a friendly host to our speaker and make sure his time at our university was a pleasant one. Evidently, I did my job well because at the end of the presentation I had his number and a Saturday lunch date with a diplomat twice my 18 years. Hehe...
Now I find myself in the same place that Ellen, M and C have all thus far have been. We've gone to texting and flirtatiousness, but there are some added variables with which one must deal.
A. He's twice my age. I don't know how these creatures called adults operate. Also, we're in different stages of our lives. When we talk about our day, my complaints are about mid-terms and homework; his are about employee training and American commercial endeavors in the Far East. There is a clear connection, but I wonder if the difference is too great.
B. He's a man and a I'm a boy. Now, I am sage and crafty in the ways of girls texting boys for reasons I don't know, but whenever it's my time to take hold of the reins as amant and not Cyrano de Bergerac for a friend, I am lost. The role of lover is hard for me.
C. This is the most important. He clearly wants to bang me. He also offered me an internship and future job opportunities. This is something I'd like to take him up on, but obviously it's a conflict of interest and unfair to other applicants. Unethical.
I'm always really quick to like people. Then I burn out and want to move on. I'm a person defined by my wanderlust and I'm still learning to deal with that. I want to take this slow and explore what I feel about older fellows before I make any hard and fast decisions.
At the same time too, I am still hopelessly obsessed with Francisco Lachowski. *sigh* Oh Francisco...
Apart from my love life, M and I have come to the conclusion that there is only one possible career option for the two of us. After discovering that our movie tastes are hopelessly not alike (mine: dark, foreign, gay dramas. hers: light-hearted, indy comedies with cute people who like cute music) and our future as bffls was frighteningly on the rocks, we reconciled over our shared desire to be models. So, watch out fashion world! Our model-like good looks would also explain why boys have not been throwing themselves at us at their normal frequency. We're just too intimidatingly good looking and too unapproachably well habillé. Did you like that French word? It means "dressed" and is the kind of word models throw around without thinking.
I hope you enjoyed today's guest blog and I hope to be back soon!
Love,
The Lovely Lee
This is Lee. M and C have started a series of guest blog updates where you can hear from some of the other characters playing roles in this fiasco called freshman year.
So, basically, I have stumbled upon a new and exciting opportunity. I'm in the executive board for a club on campus and at our latest event, we hosted a diplomat to come and speak to a group of students about life abroad and working for the government. All that jazz, ya know? Part of my job was to be a friendly host to our speaker and make sure his time at our university was a pleasant one. Evidently, I did my job well because at the end of the presentation I had his number and a Saturday lunch date with a diplomat twice my 18 years. Hehe...
Now I find myself in the same place that Ellen, M and C have all thus far have been. We've gone to texting and flirtatiousness, but there are some added variables with which one must deal.
A. He's twice my age. I don't know how these creatures called adults operate. Also, we're in different stages of our lives. When we talk about our day, my complaints are about mid-terms and homework; his are about employee training and American commercial endeavors in the Far East. There is a clear connection, but I wonder if the difference is too great.
B. He's a man and a I'm a boy. Now, I am sage and crafty in the ways of girls texting boys for reasons I don't know, but whenever it's my time to take hold of the reins as amant and not Cyrano de Bergerac for a friend, I am lost. The role of lover is hard for me.
C. This is the most important. He clearly wants to bang me. He also offered me an internship and future job opportunities. This is something I'd like to take him up on, but obviously it's a conflict of interest and unfair to other applicants. Unethical.
I'm always really quick to like people. Then I burn out and want to move on. I'm a person defined by my wanderlust and I'm still learning to deal with that. I want to take this slow and explore what I feel about older fellows before I make any hard and fast decisions.
At the same time too, I am still hopelessly obsessed with Francisco Lachowski. *sigh* Oh Francisco...
Apart from my love life, M and I have come to the conclusion that there is only one possible career option for the two of us. After discovering that our movie tastes are hopelessly not alike (mine: dark, foreign, gay dramas. hers: light-hearted, indy comedies with cute people who like cute music) and our future as bffls was frighteningly on the rocks, we reconciled over our shared desire to be models. So, watch out fashion world! Our model-like good looks would also explain why boys have not been throwing themselves at us at their normal frequency. We're just too intimidatingly good looking and too unapproachably well habillé. Did you like that French word? It means "dressed" and is the kind of word models throw around without thinking.
I hope you enjoyed today's guest blog and I hope to be back soon!
Love,
The Lovely Lee
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Freshman Failure?
Readers,
I'm coming to you from the comfort of my home this weekend. No, not my dwellings in the dormitory, but real, live home. Ellen, C, and I are all apart this weekend, and while I miss them both dearly, I hope they will not mind me saying that it is good for all of us to get away, to be by ourselves a bit, to be in different surroundings.
Home is great, though it doesn't feel the same way it did before. Though I was looking forward to seeing my beloved pets and eating some fresh, identifiable food, I knew that a discussion of the tough questions would arise soon after my arrival back here. Sure enough, within an hour of being home and without even meaning for the conversation to head in this direction, my mom and I analyzed nearly every aspect of my college experience so far. We talked about the food (tolerable but boring), my job (a necessary mind-vacation from schoolwork), and people (maybe a few too many bros, but a great few close friends and slightly larger circle of more distant friends and acquaintances). The conversation then headed to the topic of academics, and this was a giant showcase of my vulnerability. It needed to happen, though. It was humbling, and I felt rather guilty admitting that I'm quite possibly wasting my parents' money on classes I don't like, but my mom also assured me that lots of people feel lost their freshman year, whether academically, socially, spiritually, mentally, or in a number of other ways.
I don't mean to be vain, but let's use the most readily available example (me) for a case study of academic confusion. I signed up for 5 classes, 3 of which are either above my level or clearly just not my thing. Because I'm bored by the material, I have less incentive to work. Both because of the nature of the classes and the nature of my professors, I have received grades in only one class so far. I don't know how I'm doing, and I don't know how my professors grade. One of my professors is on a completely different plane of thinking, and I would probably have to do heavy drugs (no thanks) to understand the meaning of his words, which are so above me. I sent one of his essay prompts to my dad, and even he couldn't figure out what the prof wanted to know. Another of my professors seems like a great person to sit down and chat with about life- she's quite jolly, really- but I don't think she knows how to handle a class. The same can be said about the third professor in question, an expert in her field, for sure, but not the best at commanding a giant lecture.
Now, I told my mother about all of my professors and classes yesterday, perhaps with a bit of exaggeration, but nothing that really obscured the truth. More importantly, though, my mom helped me come to terms with the fact that yes, I could work harder to seek out my professors and figure out what's going on in my toughest classes. Equally true, we decided, is the fact that past a certain point, working too hard at something you hate doesn't get you anywhere. She and I both know a lot of people disagree with this outlook, and I can definitely understand why. It's not an excuse to lower your standards of your own work or to give yourself reason to wallow in self-pity over how much you hate your classes. It's a realization that life throws us for a shitty ride every once in a while, and the shitty ride tends to open its doors to a lot of us during the first semester of college. I clearly made some pretty significant mistakes when it came to choosing my classes, but Mom reminded me that half of college is spent working through requirements and figuring out what you don't want to study. The same applies to people and clubs and activities- sometimes you have to throw yourself out there and go fishing, and eventually you'll find your niche. I know there are a lot of people in my class filling out transfer applications, and I would be lying if I said that I hadn't at least thought of doing the same. I thought of transferring to a college that was academically easier, as if it would be easy to just shove myself into someone else's established social circle. But I'm deciding to take a leap of faith. I'll trust that there are majors or minors or even just good sets of classes that are meant for me at my college. Maybe it will take a while, but it will all get better. Maybe this semester will turn out to have been my lowest point in college (academically speaking); maybe it will have only served as preparation for much worse semesters to come. But I'm all right with it now. Shit happens to everyone. I screwed myself over with my classes and some of the professors I chose.
Unfortunately, while my situation (or 'shituation') could have been avoided, there are many that can't be, and it can be even harder to acknowledge their presence. In the same way that I didn't want to come to terms with the fact that I'm unhappy with my classes and academic performance, I didn't want to accept that my best friend from home is going through a really rough patch right now. I've been having a ridiculously hard time trying to figure out what to do for him and how I can somehow keep our friendship the same way it's always been. Is it true that nothing is ever as good as it was? Or is it true that everything is going to be okay? Will we ever figure these things out?
My apologies for the massive slew of philosophical rants that I've been throwing out here lately. I swear that when C and I are united again tomorrow night that we will have many new observations about life to share.
Thinking, for now, that it will all be okay-ily yours,
M.
I'm coming to you from the comfort of my home this weekend. No, not my dwellings in the dormitory, but real, live home. Ellen, C, and I are all apart this weekend, and while I miss them both dearly, I hope they will not mind me saying that it is good for all of us to get away, to be by ourselves a bit, to be in different surroundings.
Home is great, though it doesn't feel the same way it did before. Though I was looking forward to seeing my beloved pets and eating some fresh, identifiable food, I knew that a discussion of the tough questions would arise soon after my arrival back here. Sure enough, within an hour of being home and without even meaning for the conversation to head in this direction, my mom and I analyzed nearly every aspect of my college experience so far. We talked about the food (tolerable but boring), my job (a necessary mind-vacation from schoolwork), and people (maybe a few too many bros, but a great few close friends and slightly larger circle of more distant friends and acquaintances). The conversation then headed to the topic of academics, and this was a giant showcase of my vulnerability. It needed to happen, though. It was humbling, and I felt rather guilty admitting that I'm quite possibly wasting my parents' money on classes I don't like, but my mom also assured me that lots of people feel lost their freshman year, whether academically, socially, spiritually, mentally, or in a number of other ways.
I don't mean to be vain, but let's use the most readily available example (me) for a case study of academic confusion. I signed up for 5 classes, 3 of which are either above my level or clearly just not my thing. Because I'm bored by the material, I have less incentive to work. Both because of the nature of the classes and the nature of my professors, I have received grades in only one class so far. I don't know how I'm doing, and I don't know how my professors grade. One of my professors is on a completely different plane of thinking, and I would probably have to do heavy drugs (no thanks) to understand the meaning of his words, which are so above me. I sent one of his essay prompts to my dad, and even he couldn't figure out what the prof wanted to know. Another of my professors seems like a great person to sit down and chat with about life- she's quite jolly, really- but I don't think she knows how to handle a class. The same can be said about the third professor in question, an expert in her field, for sure, but not the best at commanding a giant lecture.
Now, I told my mother about all of my professors and classes yesterday, perhaps with a bit of exaggeration, but nothing that really obscured the truth. More importantly, though, my mom helped me come to terms with the fact that yes, I could work harder to seek out my professors and figure out what's going on in my toughest classes. Equally true, we decided, is the fact that past a certain point, working too hard at something you hate doesn't get you anywhere. She and I both know a lot of people disagree with this outlook, and I can definitely understand why. It's not an excuse to lower your standards of your own work or to give yourself reason to wallow in self-pity over how much you hate your classes. It's a realization that life throws us for a shitty ride every once in a while, and the shitty ride tends to open its doors to a lot of us during the first semester of college. I clearly made some pretty significant mistakes when it came to choosing my classes, but Mom reminded me that half of college is spent working through requirements and figuring out what you don't want to study. The same applies to people and clubs and activities- sometimes you have to throw yourself out there and go fishing, and eventually you'll find your niche. I know there are a lot of people in my class filling out transfer applications, and I would be lying if I said that I hadn't at least thought of doing the same. I thought of transferring to a college that was academically easier, as if it would be easy to just shove myself into someone else's established social circle. But I'm deciding to take a leap of faith. I'll trust that there are majors or minors or even just good sets of classes that are meant for me at my college. Maybe it will take a while, but it will all get better. Maybe this semester will turn out to have been my lowest point in college (academically speaking); maybe it will have only served as preparation for much worse semesters to come. But I'm all right with it now. Shit happens to everyone. I screwed myself over with my classes and some of the professors I chose.
Unfortunately, while my situation (or 'shituation') could have been avoided, there are many that can't be, and it can be even harder to acknowledge their presence. In the same way that I didn't want to come to terms with the fact that I'm unhappy with my classes and academic performance, I didn't want to accept that my best friend from home is going through a really rough patch right now. I've been having a ridiculously hard time trying to figure out what to do for him and how I can somehow keep our friendship the same way it's always been. Is it true that nothing is ever as good as it was? Or is it true that everything is going to be okay? Will we ever figure these things out?
My apologies for the massive slew of philosophical rants that I've been throwing out here lately. I swear that when C and I are united again tomorrow night that we will have many new observations about life to share.
Thinking, for now, that it will all be okay-ily yours,
M.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Struggly times abound.
Friends, foes, lovers, and haters,
Today just wasn't my day. You know how sometimes you look at yourself after getting ready in the morning (after waking up feeling like P. Diddy), and you tell yourself, "Damn, I look good. This must mean I'm going to have an excellent day with lots of [straight] male suitors." Well, my dears, that is not true. I told myself exactly that this morning, and I was not successful in being successful at anything.
I might be exaggerating, I'll admit. The bulk of the day was really quite productive aside from a few blips of crappiness. I paid attention in the class in which I normally show symptoms of ADD or narcolepsy. I made headway on homework, though, of course, mountains of it still remain. Alas, the lows of the daytime included the following (Please do not point out my stupidity and/or how I am at fault for all of these occurrences. I really don't want to hear it right now, and I'm well aware that most or all of these things could have been prevented had I used my noggin.) :
- Speaking in English in French class. In my defense, my teacher asked me a question in English. How was I to know she wanted that response in français?
- Making an idiot of myself in front of my TA, a PhD student. I got a term we've been studying from day 1 mixed up with a term that has nothing to do with the subject. Oh, the look on his face. Oh, the redness on mine.
- Having doors shut on my face repeatedly because boys are not men on this campus and do not know how to be chivalrous. Wait, no, that's a lie. Not yet being a man is no excuse- my first boyfriend (approximate age during relationship: 14) ALWAYS held doors for me, and I would not have called him particularly manly. Boys, men, know this: chivalry is not dead. Yes, sometimes we ladies like to do things for ourselves and rock the Betty Friedan, but that doesn't mean we don't want you to at least TRY to be chivalrous. Unless you and your girl have established that you don't ALWAYS need to open doors, you need to play it safe and open doors for every girl. I don't care if it is an able-bodied but unattractive girl. I don't care if it is the ugliest woman you have ever seen. PLAY IT SAFE AND OPEN DOORS FOR US. At the very least, HOLD DOORS. You would hold a door for your bro. You would hold the door for your mother. Consider all the unknown ladies of the world your bros and mothers. Therefore, you need to have proper door etiquette. That is all.
- Attending a yoga class. Now, I am all about the benefits of yoga, and I really enjoyed yoga when I was younger. I had a "Yoga for Kids" video, and I would twist myself into a pretzel at least 3 times a week. Perhaps the fact that I had not done yoga for 6 months before today had something to do with the fact that the class was so miserable. But I also take no shame in blaming the instructor. She kept us in downward dog for at least 42 of the 60 minutes. She did not speak audibly. She played Alanis Morrissette while we were supposed to be relaxing. C came up to me in the middle of the class, when she had to run to the supply closet to grab something, and whispered, "Slavedriver, take me home!" I couldn't have agreed more. I was asking myself the whole time if it was socially acceptable to leave halfway through. I also contemplated whether it would disturb the supposedly peaceful atmosphere if I were to discreetly release a bit of flatulence. No worries, readers- I am a lady, so I waited until I was well outside the yoga room after class.
Now, like I said, the day really just got progressively worse. The worst occurred approximately 75 minutes ago when I spilled my tea all over the study lounge. Part of if splashed onto the hair of the girl next to me. Part of it spilled onto my French. Part of it spilled onto me. Most of it is now chilling on the carpet intended to conceal barf stains. Hopefully it can pass the tea test as well.
The icing on the cake was when I made a rather inappropriate comment a few moments ago. Long story short, the person about whom I made a rather unkind insinuation saw what I IMed. Love it. It wasn't a big deal, and apparently she laughed, but I did not need that immediately after the Great Tea Disaster.
Fortunately, Ellen, ever the heroine, showed up soon after the IM Struggle. She informed me of some excellent news. Turns out that both boys (they are boys, NOT men by any measure) who have been less than kind to her thus far BOTH talked to her today in ways that were très amusant. One singlehandedly sounded like the attack of the drones with the amount of the humming he did, and the other asked her something about working out. That's right, pathetic boy, Ellen the heroine has a better body than you. Jealous much?
Anyway, C and I just keep doing what we do. We drink Tang. We carry large, awkwardly-sized objects. We test the abilities of the food in the caf to satiate our hunger. We even do the occasional booty-grabbing.
To end things on a note worthy of a chuckle (or heinously loud guffaw, as we prefer), I have for you a Text From The Day.
"I def just walked into the men's room. There was someone using a urinal. We made eye contact."
Slightly crazily yours,
M.
PS Jack will be guest blogging soon! As will C! These next few posts should be pretty epic.
Today just wasn't my day. You know how sometimes you look at yourself after getting ready in the morning (after waking up feeling like P. Diddy), and you tell yourself, "Damn, I look good. This must mean I'm going to have an excellent day with lots of [straight] male suitors." Well, my dears, that is not true. I told myself exactly that this morning, and I was not successful in being successful at anything.
I might be exaggerating, I'll admit. The bulk of the day was really quite productive aside from a few blips of crappiness. I paid attention in the class in which I normally show symptoms of ADD or narcolepsy. I made headway on homework, though, of course, mountains of it still remain. Alas, the lows of the daytime included the following (Please do not point out my stupidity and/or how I am at fault for all of these occurrences. I really don't want to hear it right now, and I'm well aware that most or all of these things could have been prevented had I used my noggin.) :
- Speaking in English in French class. In my defense, my teacher asked me a question in English. How was I to know she wanted that response in français?
- Making an idiot of myself in front of my TA, a PhD student. I got a term we've been studying from day 1 mixed up with a term that has nothing to do with the subject. Oh, the look on his face. Oh, the redness on mine.
- Having doors shut on my face repeatedly because boys are not men on this campus and do not know how to be chivalrous. Wait, no, that's a lie. Not yet being a man is no excuse- my first boyfriend (approximate age during relationship: 14) ALWAYS held doors for me, and I would not have called him particularly manly. Boys, men, know this: chivalry is not dead. Yes, sometimes we ladies like to do things for ourselves and rock the Betty Friedan, but that doesn't mean we don't want you to at least TRY to be chivalrous. Unless you and your girl have established that you don't ALWAYS need to open doors, you need to play it safe and open doors for every girl. I don't care if it is an able-bodied but unattractive girl. I don't care if it is the ugliest woman you have ever seen. PLAY IT SAFE AND OPEN DOORS FOR US. At the very least, HOLD DOORS. You would hold a door for your bro. You would hold the door for your mother. Consider all the unknown ladies of the world your bros and mothers. Therefore, you need to have proper door etiquette. That is all.
- Attending a yoga class. Now, I am all about the benefits of yoga, and I really enjoyed yoga when I was younger. I had a "Yoga for Kids" video, and I would twist myself into a pretzel at least 3 times a week. Perhaps the fact that I had not done yoga for 6 months before today had something to do with the fact that the class was so miserable. But I also take no shame in blaming the instructor. She kept us in downward dog for at least 42 of the 60 minutes. She did not speak audibly. She played Alanis Morrissette while we were supposed to be relaxing. C came up to me in the middle of the class, when she had to run to the supply closet to grab something, and whispered, "Slavedriver, take me home!" I couldn't have agreed more. I was asking myself the whole time if it was socially acceptable to leave halfway through. I also contemplated whether it would disturb the supposedly peaceful atmosphere if I were to discreetly release a bit of flatulence. No worries, readers- I am a lady, so I waited until I was well outside the yoga room after class.
Now, like I said, the day really just got progressively worse. The worst occurred approximately 75 minutes ago when I spilled my tea all over the study lounge. Part of if splashed onto the hair of the girl next to me. Part of it spilled onto my French. Part of it spilled onto me. Most of it is now chilling on the carpet intended to conceal barf stains. Hopefully it can pass the tea test as well.
The icing on the cake was when I made a rather inappropriate comment a few moments ago. Long story short, the person about whom I made a rather unkind insinuation saw what I IMed. Love it. It wasn't a big deal, and apparently she laughed, but I did not need that immediately after the Great Tea Disaster.
Fortunately, Ellen, ever the heroine, showed up soon after the IM Struggle. She informed me of some excellent news. Turns out that both boys (they are boys, NOT men by any measure) who have been less than kind to her thus far BOTH talked to her today in ways that were très amusant. One singlehandedly sounded like the attack of the drones with the amount of the humming he did, and the other asked her something about working out. That's right, pathetic boy, Ellen the heroine has a better body than you. Jealous much?
Anyway, C and I just keep doing what we do. We drink Tang. We carry large, awkwardly-sized objects. We test the abilities of the food in the caf to satiate our hunger. We even do the occasional booty-grabbing.
To end things on a note worthy of a chuckle (or heinously loud guffaw, as we prefer), I have for you a Text From The Day.
"I def just walked into the men's room. There was someone using a urinal. We made eye contact."
Slightly crazily yours,
M.
PS Jack will be guest blogging soon! As will C! These next few posts should be pretty epic.
Monday, October 11, 2010
[Belated] Weekend Update.
Hello, world. It has been far too long since we've offered you an update, so we're coming to you tonight with a summary of key events from the past week.
On Thursday, which is, of course, part of the weekend in college, the two of us, along with Ellen, got gussied up and went out. We had some excellent G-rated fun, but other people thought it was a lot more scandalous. We put on our dancing shoes and brought out the moves we normally save only for the most special of occasions; however, it seems that many of our fellow party-goers interpreted our excellent moves as drunken spasms. On Friday morning, Ellen was asked by a classmate how drunk the three of us were. To which she replied, "Not at all." My mother, at least, was proud when I told her this story.
Friday night was spent at a local restaurant with Ellen and Jack. Ellen was kind enough to inform the waitress that it was M's birthday. I will tell you this about M's identity- October 8 is not her date of birth. However, she did get a cheesy restaurant-style birthday song and free dessert out of it. So that counts for something.
In other news, C is now swearing off men for the time being. She, like M, has determined through not one but TWO case studies that men, in general, have no brains (excluding Lee). She has this new theory, that the cells/fleshy material men have "below the belt" is actually taken from their brain. Therefore, they do not have the capacity to think or act rationally. See, what happened is that not once, but TWICE, boys have expressed interest in C and then, much later and after some commitment, have explained/been found out that they are actually in love with their ex-girlfriend. Not C. Actually, C doesn't matter at all. She's simply a warm version of a blow up doll. It's fine. No one is bitter. But, regardless, two is enough, so TO THE NUNNERY (Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5)--[C totally made that up, but I hope those of you dorky enough get the reference].
The boys next door do all of the following:
- Refuse to help girls carry large amounts of stuff back to their dorm.
- Shower longer than M (who shaved her legs AND her armpits in an impressively long cleanse).
- Listen to their alarms at 11 PM and 8 AM at ridiculously high volumes. For enjoyment, we presume.
Last night, C's dad arrived with a giant chair, a huge bag of clothes, 4 plates of cookies, and a large bag of DVDs. The two of us attempted to carry this load back to our dorm, but man oh man, we were riding the struggle bus. Actually, a bus would have been nice. Anyhow, a cop on a bicycle asked us if we were carrying a body. One of the boys next door saw us but did not acknowledge us. Several other strapping young men stared and laughed. Finally, a petite girl who looked ready for a party helped us out for the last eighth of the journey with the giant chair. It didn't really help that much, but it was something. Thanks, girl.
Finally, some...
TFTW (Texts from the Weekend)
Frank to Jack: "Hey I think I left a banana on your desk- sorry. Do what you want with it."
603: "I just want to cuddle. I don't even want sex. I love smiling with boys."
603: "I want to go to a psychic. Or a masseuse. Someone who touches me."
210: "If a guy doesn't have the balls to ask a girl out, he doesn't have enough penis to have sex with her and make her feel good."
M to Ellen and C: "Watching small children look in the windows of the sex shop..."
M to Paul and C:"Spotted: Girl in the caf eating a a giant bowl of ice cream with a ridiculous amount of sprinkles. By herself. Oh wait, that's me."
Crazily, slightly frustratedly yours,
C. & M.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
An Electronic Hole-Puncher: The Epitomy of Laze
Dearest Devoted Followers,
I'm sure questions are pinging through your brain right now, but, not to worry, I will answer them. First: Yes. I did just create a new word: "Laze." It's a verb. It means "to be lazy". Let's use it in a sentence: We lazed around yesterday, only getting off the couch once to make some more popcorn. Capice?
Two: Yes, it has been forever since M and C have blogged together, but, not to fear, that will come to pass soon enough.
And, Three: No. C should NOT be blogging while she is technically "interning" seeing as that if her "boss" has any way of tracking what websites she has been on and happens to come across one entitled "gotchobootyinmahhand", all hell could break loose. We will therefore hope for the best. Plus, as a decoy, washingtonpost.com is opened in another browser. I am the queen of stealth.
I have finished all of my laborious work as a big-city intern this afternoon. When I walked in at two, I was assigned the duty of hole-punching roughly 300 pages of paper. But, lucky for my nails and lack-of arm muscle, some lazy-ass invented this thing called the "E-Hole Punch". I'm not even kidding. You plug it in and feed in like 60 pages at a time. After a couple seconds of a noise that sounds like Cookie Monster stuffing his face, the pages come out hole punched. Voila. Those days of brute force, breaking your back trying to dig through as many pages as you can are gone. Welcome to the twenty-first century. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the image of Progress.
Anyhow. Back to college. A three day weekend quickly approaches and many of our colleagues have begun packing their bags to head to the motherland to visit Mom and Dad and that significant other they broke up with in August. All this for the glorious excuse of a holiday-Columbus Day. Thank you, Christopher, for sailing a ship, thinking you were someplace, being totally wrong, and coming back. We all (especially those of us getting some ass this weekend) really appreciate it. Some of us, however, have more elaborate plans for a more adequately named "staycation". Some of us will remain in our dorms, conscripting friends and burly men to move around the furniture in our room so it doesn't feel TOTALLY like a prison cell, or shopping trips for clothes to wear when it's below 80 degrees. And, that time will also include heading to the dining hall with some of the worst food imagineable.
Ok now for a little bit of a dining hall rant: college food may be notoriously bad, but this place, I believe, MUST be the worst. First of all, they shut off the soft serve ice cream at 8:00. Secondly, the way in which they house the marshmallow fluff makes you wonder "who the fuck would think of that?". And, thirdly, they don't even have sprinkles daily! I mean, what kind of place are they running here? [So you may have noticed that all of these complaints pertain to ice cream....but that's because all of the other food is completely unedible. I swear--Jack was talking today about the lack of orange juice. I mean, technically there is orange juice, but, in the words of Jack: that's not even orange juice! It's "premium orange blend"! I mean what the fuck is that shit?! Thank you, Jack, for putting it into terms we can all understand.]
In the meantime, the "boss" just came back--I gotta pick up some boxes.
a very whipped yours,
C
I'm sure questions are pinging through your brain right now, but, not to worry, I will answer them. First: Yes. I did just create a new word: "Laze." It's a verb. It means "to be lazy". Let's use it in a sentence: We lazed around yesterday, only getting off the couch once to make some more popcorn. Capice?
Two: Yes, it has been forever since M and C have blogged together, but, not to fear, that will come to pass soon enough.
And, Three: No. C should NOT be blogging while she is technically "interning" seeing as that if her "boss" has any way of tracking what websites she has been on and happens to come across one entitled "gotchobootyinmahhand", all hell could break loose. We will therefore hope for the best. Plus, as a decoy, washingtonpost.com is opened in another browser. I am the queen of stealth.
I have finished all of my laborious work as a big-city intern this afternoon. When I walked in at two, I was assigned the duty of hole-punching roughly 300 pages of paper. But, lucky for my nails and lack-of arm muscle, some lazy-ass invented this thing called the "E-Hole Punch". I'm not even kidding. You plug it in and feed in like 60 pages at a time. After a couple seconds of a noise that sounds like Cookie Monster stuffing his face, the pages come out hole punched. Voila. Those days of brute force, breaking your back trying to dig through as many pages as you can are gone. Welcome to the twenty-first century. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the image of Progress.
Anyhow. Back to college. A three day weekend quickly approaches and many of our colleagues have begun packing their bags to head to the motherland to visit Mom and Dad and that significant other they broke up with in August. All this for the glorious excuse of a holiday-Columbus Day. Thank you, Christopher, for sailing a ship, thinking you were someplace, being totally wrong, and coming back. We all (especially those of us getting some ass this weekend) really appreciate it. Some of us, however, have more elaborate plans for a more adequately named "staycation". Some of us will remain in our dorms, conscripting friends and burly men to move around the furniture in our room so it doesn't feel TOTALLY like a prison cell, or shopping trips for clothes to wear when it's below 80 degrees. And, that time will also include heading to the dining hall with some of the worst food imagineable.
Ok now for a little bit of a dining hall rant: college food may be notoriously bad, but this place, I believe, MUST be the worst. First of all, they shut off the soft serve ice cream at 8:00. Secondly, the way in which they house the marshmallow fluff makes you wonder "who the fuck would think of that?". And, thirdly, they don't even have sprinkles daily! I mean, what kind of place are they running here? [So you may have noticed that all of these complaints pertain to ice cream....but that's because all of the other food is completely unedible. I swear--Jack was talking today about the lack of orange juice. I mean, technically there is orange juice, but, in the words of Jack: that's not even orange juice! It's "premium orange blend"! I mean what the fuck is that shit?! Thank you, Jack, for putting it into terms we can all understand.]
In the meantime, the "boss" just came back--I gotta pick up some boxes.
a very whipped yours,
C
Meet Ben
Hello world. Today, rather than being in M or C's hands, your booty is in mine. Ellen. The so-dubbed 'heroine.' And I am a lover of butt-pinching.
If only that's what we were here to write of today. Rather, because there is little booty-pinching in my life, I would like to discuss one of the current fixations: characters, or otherwise ridiculous people.
Of course, I don't want any readers to stop here because of our biggest celeb's rendition of this subject already. A character in himself, did in fact produce an insightful video on how he feels that there are too many of us college students who take too many things for granted. I have to say, I tend to agree with him on this point; we shouldn't forget to be grateful for the many opportunities with which we are blessed. This is far too serious a topic for me to tackle at this point in my already rather boring life. (Yes, I know I just said my life is boring, thus being hypocritical. Clearly, I'm flawed.) But we're getting distracted here.
I want to discuss the real characters of college life. Those individuals that we can't help acknowledge with an eye roll, a snort, or a guffaw of sorts if it's been a long day. We have the Benjamen (based on a character I went to high school with) figure, who, regardless of what actual knowledge he or she possesses, rarely says anything of substance. True, there may be those rare occasions, but typically Benjamens raise their hands in class or speak out of turn with the regularity that most other students look at the clock. Or fantasize about what peers might look like naked.
Though there are many archetypes (including the Hank, whose sole purpose it seems is to be the epitome of testosterone in this collegiate experience), the Benjamen is particularly amusing to me and by far the most prominent. Though I was at first annoyed with characters as such, tonight my dinner with Jack provided me with an opportunity to really enjoy these people for who they are. Benjamen N. found me sitting at a table with our dear Jack, and, though I tried not to engage, began to tell me about his day. At first, I was annoyed; but then, as the level of detail increased, I began to laugh a little in my head that here before me was seriously a person who truly believed that I or anyone cared about these few details he had to share while wearing khaki's, a tee-shirt, sneakers, and a fedora.
We all know Benjamens. And at one point or another we have been ready to give up our fantasy about our TA who looks like Mr. Shue from "Glee" and rather dream about smacking them in the face. Hard. But really, today was the first time I appreciated the Benjamen figure for who he or she is: these are the people who we can look at as to the "thank Goodness we are nots." We each have a Benjamen inside, I admit, because we all have moments of horrible insecurity and equally horrible arrogance. Perhaps the sole purpose of the Benjamen is to remind us to laugh at ourselves and that, though this period in our lives is interesting and important, it is not, in entirety of it. We don't to be Benjamen all the time.
Friends, readers, fellow Benjamens, I write to you as a guest today because sometimes all we can do in life is get by. Life in college may take you on a substantial ride on the Struggle Bus, but at the end of the day this is all fleeting. As are these characters. The best we can do is to smile and take it all in strive, and hope that we pinch some good booties along the way.
Adoringly yours,
Ellen.
Also, does anyone else find www.homestarrrunner.com funny? I still do...
ALSO no one told me that in college, 'humming' is a dirty, dirty thing. Look it up on Urban Dictionary.
If only that's what we were here to write of today. Rather, because there is little booty-pinching in my life, I would like to discuss one of the current fixations: characters, or otherwise ridiculous people.
Of course, I don't want any readers to stop here because of our biggest celeb's rendition of this subject already. A character in himself, did in fact produce an insightful video on how he feels that there are too many of us college students who take too many things for granted. I have to say, I tend to agree with him on this point; we shouldn't forget to be grateful for the many opportunities with which we are blessed. This is far too serious a topic for me to tackle at this point in my already rather boring life. (Yes, I know I just said my life is boring, thus being hypocritical. Clearly, I'm flawed.) But we're getting distracted here.
I want to discuss the real characters of college life. Those individuals that we can't help acknowledge with an eye roll, a snort, or a guffaw of sorts if it's been a long day. We have the Benjamen (based on a character I went to high school with) figure, who, regardless of what actual knowledge he or she possesses, rarely says anything of substance. True, there may be those rare occasions, but typically Benjamens raise their hands in class or speak out of turn with the regularity that most other students look at the clock. Or fantasize about what peers might look like naked.
Though there are many archetypes (including the Hank, whose sole purpose it seems is to be the epitome of testosterone in this collegiate experience), the Benjamen is particularly amusing to me and by far the most prominent. Though I was at first annoyed with characters as such, tonight my dinner with Jack provided me with an opportunity to really enjoy these people for who they are. Benjamen N. found me sitting at a table with our dear Jack, and, though I tried not to engage, began to tell me about his day. At first, I was annoyed; but then, as the level of detail increased, I began to laugh a little in my head that here before me was seriously a person who truly believed that I or anyone cared about these few details he had to share while wearing khaki's, a tee-shirt, sneakers, and a fedora.
We all know Benjamens. And at one point or another we have been ready to give up our fantasy about our TA who looks like Mr. Shue from "Glee" and rather dream about smacking them in the face. Hard. But really, today was the first time I appreciated the Benjamen figure for who he or she is: these are the people who we can look at as to the "thank Goodness we are nots." We each have a Benjamen inside, I admit, because we all have moments of horrible insecurity and equally horrible arrogance. Perhaps the sole purpose of the Benjamen is to remind us to laugh at ourselves and that, though this period in our lives is interesting and important, it is not, in entirety of it. We don't to be Benjamen all the time.
Friends, readers, fellow Benjamens, I write to you as a guest today because sometimes all we can do in life is get by. Life in college may take you on a substantial ride on the Struggle Bus, but at the end of the day this is all fleeting. As are these characters. The best we can do is to smile and take it all in strive, and hope that we pinch some good booties along the way.
Adoringly yours,
Ellen.
Also, does anyone else find www.homestarrrunner.com funny? I still do...
ALSO no one told me that in college, 'humming' is a dirty, dirty thing. Look it up on Urban Dictionary.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
It's a wild world.
Readers,
Our little pack had some crazy adventures last night. However, only a much longer post will be able to sufficiently recount our tales, and that will have to wait until later, when C and I will be able to blog together.
In the mean time, I will be swearing off boys, guys, men, and all other members of the male gender until further notice. Except for Lee. But that's only because we officially declared our BFF-ness yesterday. In all seriousness, though, it is time for me to focus on my studies, my health, my job, and my friends. Romance needs to be put aside. Perhaps I will become a nun. Perhaps I should just relish in my good relationships and try to keep the fragile ones from falling apart.
I'm sorry to finally admit the truth- that life isn't always hilarious.
Contemplatingly and asexually yours,
M.
Our little pack had some crazy adventures last night. However, only a much longer post will be able to sufficiently recount our tales, and that will have to wait until later, when C and I will be able to blog together.
In the mean time, I will be swearing off boys, guys, men, and all other members of the male gender until further notice. Except for Lee. But that's only because we officially declared our BFF-ness yesterday. In all seriousness, though, it is time for me to focus on my studies, my health, my job, and my friends. Romance needs to be put aside. Perhaps I will become a nun. Perhaps I should just relish in my good relationships and try to keep the fragile ones from falling apart.
I'm sorry to finally admit the truth- that life isn't always hilarious.
Contemplatingly and asexually yours,
M.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Friday Night Fun
Herro,
After an sexciting week, M and I have decided that we must, let me repeat, absolutely MUST clarify the difference between 1. smooching, 2. making out and 3. hooking up. See, there's been some confusion--apparently there are many separate definitions of each. Here is finally what we decided upon (WARNING! Not for children under 10)
1. Smooching: Lip-to-lip. Innocent. Not a lot going on. Not even tongue. It's what cartoon characters do (unless we're talking about anime--then that's a different story)
2. Making Out: The event at the end of High School Musical that prompts grade schoolers to exclaim "Ew!" This involves tongue. Disney movie levels of scandalous, you know?
3. Hooking Up: Can range from intense making out to flat-out sex. So when you use it you kind of have to clarify. But usually it's just like a "sexual" making out, ya know? It can also imply going past that. But you must judge according to the person you're talking to.
And now the ladiez be gettin' ready after we watched Glee (which then inspired us to watch a solid 20 minutes worth of Britney music videos....yes, we all have a girl crush on her) and Jack is here saying he wants to do homework...WHAT? and C has to teach children to read at 9AM tomorrow, so, untill tomorrow my loves,
C. & M.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Some absolutely abhorrent news from the real world.
Readers, I'm sure you've all heard about this by now. That anyone could do something so hateful is beyond belief. I will admit that the circumstances of this story made me reconsider what I post on this blog, but then again, I don't consider our material hateful or offensive. The point of this blog is mainly to make fun of ourselves and the random happenings of college life, not to offend anyone. With any big news, C and I try to check with the subject before posting it. We often disguise small details of our stories, even the TFTDs. As you've probably guessed, all names are changed. Most of the people mentioned in this blog read it regularly. C and I hope that our posts are considered harmless and that our readers enjoy laughing as much as we do.
What do you think, readers? What are the risks of having a blog like this--an anonymous blog that conceals important details--on the internet? Do you find our blog as harmless as we intend it to be? Be honest.
Rest in peace, Tyler Clementi.
xoxo,
M.
What do you think, readers? What are the risks of having a blog like this--an anonymous blog that conceals important details--on the internet? Do you find our blog as harmless as we intend it to be? Be honest.
Rest in peace, Tyler Clementi.
xoxo,
M.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
A Little Bit of Everything
Greetings Earthlings,
We have sad news. Well, not necessarily sad news for us, but sad news for Hank. Hank has dropped the ball, it's safe to say, and he and Ellen are no long an "item." Instead, he's too embarrassed to show his face, and drops his eyes whenever she's near. C thinks its because he was ashamed of himself for showing up at E's room drunk one night. Regardless, the legend of his dick-ness has spread, and in a matter of 24 hours, not one, but TWO burly men have given him a good talking-to. As in gone to Hank's room and told him to stop messing with our heroine! Hit the road, Hank, and dontchya come back no more, no more, no more, no more.
We thought we should give an update on the massive hickey, christened "Harold" as of 9:13 this morning. M has received several comments from keen observers who have managed to look through her scarf and see the enormous mass of redness. Most of the observations were funny, but some were not. C noted this morning that Harold was looking pretty flamboyant, but conditions have improved slightly throughout the day. C's scientific eye predicts that Harold will also hit the road by Thursday.
Dear ole Yoda--yes, the skinny green man, got some action last night as M kissed C's cheek in a display of lesbo love and love of Star Wars. And even though we cannot tell you the story of George, we can explain Yoda. Included in C's Happy Meal yesterday just happened to be a temporary tattoo of Yoda holding a light saber. To spread some love in the world, C promptly placed it on her cheek. Ok, so when M asked C to write about Yoda getting some action, however, she was discussing a different nature--as in that with a certain "Greg". However, C gets red in the face when she talks about Greg, so lets just say she is smitten. We will leave it at that.
As for some good old sexile gossip, let's just say that this unkind practice has become ever more common in the past week or so. Even for the people you'd least expect. This is what college is all about, or something.
* * * * * *
SPOTTED:
* * * * * *
Readers, if we may say so ourselves, we have had many texts in the past day or two that are surely worthy of a spot on GCBIMH. So now, if we may...
From M to C: "When I walk, my rainboots slap my thighs very loudly and my books squeak around in my backpack like giant farts."
From Ellen to C: "FML penguin and I are wearing the same sweatshirt."
From Paul (who attends the Harry Potter-esque college) to M: "I might have fallen asleep in Spanish, and my TA might have drawn a Harry Potter lightning bolt on my forehead. FML."
And finally...
From a reader to M: "Your blog is better than Gossip Girl."
We think that's a good place to end. You probably do too.
Knowingly yours,
C. & M.
We have sad news. Well, not necessarily sad news for us, but sad news for Hank. Hank has dropped the ball, it's safe to say, and he and Ellen are no long an "item." Instead, he's too embarrassed to show his face, and drops his eyes whenever she's near. C thinks its because he was ashamed of himself for showing up at E's room drunk one night. Regardless, the legend of his dick-ness has spread, and in a matter of 24 hours, not one, but TWO burly men have given him a good talking-to. As in gone to Hank's room and told him to stop messing with our heroine! Hit the road, Hank, and dontchya come back no more, no more, no more, no more.
We thought we should give an update on the massive hickey, christened "Harold" as of 9:13 this morning. M has received several comments from keen observers who have managed to look through her scarf and see the enormous mass of redness. Most of the observations were funny, but some were not. C noted this morning that Harold was looking pretty flamboyant, but conditions have improved slightly throughout the day. C's scientific eye predicts that Harold will also hit the road by Thursday.
Dear ole Yoda--yes, the skinny green man, got some action last night as M kissed C's cheek in a display of lesbo love and love of Star Wars. And even though we cannot tell you the story of George, we can explain Yoda. Included in C's Happy Meal yesterday just happened to be a temporary tattoo of Yoda holding a light saber. To spread some love in the world, C promptly placed it on her cheek. Ok, so when M asked C to write about Yoda getting some action, however, she was discussing a different nature--as in that with a certain "Greg". However, C gets red in the face when she talks about Greg, so lets just say she is smitten. We will leave it at that.
As for some good old sexile gossip, let's just say that this unkind practice has become ever more common in the past week or so. Even for the people you'd least expect. This is what college is all about, or something.
* * * * * *
SPOTTED:
- Ian, man of mystery, dining alone and looking ever attractive, alluring, and available. He looked in our direction. That counts as looking at us, right?
- Our college's #1 "celeb" extraordinaire, looking fetch as ever.
- Penguin Man. Some people look like animals. Others are humanimals. Penguin Man fits into the latter category. And he creeps on C like a penguin protects its egg.
- Cute yellow-shorted boy in one of M's classes. Though it is so cliché, he dropped his pencil, and M picked it up for him. Needless to say, sparks were flying. Like in the way penguins can fly.
* * * * * *
Readers, if we may say so ourselves, we have had many texts in the past day or two that are surely worthy of a spot on GCBIMH. So now, if we may...
From M to C: "When I walk, my rainboots slap my thighs very loudly and my books squeak around in my backpack like giant farts."
From Ellen to C: "FML penguin and I are wearing the same sweatshirt."
From Paul (who attends the Harry Potter-esque college) to M: "I might have fallen asleep in Spanish, and my TA might have drawn a Harry Potter lightning bolt on my forehead. FML."
And finally...
From a reader to M: "Your blog is better than Gossip Girl."
We think that's a good place to end. You probably do too.
Knowingly yours,
C. & M.
Monday, September 27, 2010
What a fine fall weekend.
Dear world,
It has been far too long since we’ve updated you on our utterly exciting lives. Believe it or not, signing “chastely yours” on our last post really must have worked some magic because C and I both have gotten some tail as of late. C has finally found a certain Greg worth smooching after the disaster that was He Was Who Shall Not Be Named, and I spent my weekend visiting a friend/lover at one of those picturesque schools that remind us all of Harry Potter. Though we were apart, I think I can speak for C and me both when I say that we quite enjoyed our weekends.
I never thought I would have to say this, but I currently feel as freaky as C did when she was the Bearded (or at least Mustachioed) Lady. Only this time, it’s not hair, but a hickey. It looks as though all of the vampires from Twilight amassed their powers and showcased their collective talent on my neck. This is what I get for being pale and having a beardy boytoy. Anyway, thank goodness for a certain female friend at said Harry Potter-esque school who was willing to lend me some scarves. She saved the day, or at least last night. But now, being the self-conscious young lady that I am, I am convinced that all of my fellow passengers on my journey back to my own non-HP school are staring at my neck and judging me, since I had to leave the scarves with Superfriend. I was particularly concerned that the Woman Who Sounds Like a Cow Due To Thunderous Gum-Chewing and Who Has Called Four People to Tell Them Public Transportation Is a Great Time to Talk on the Phone would make a comment about it when I politely asked her to chew her gum a bit more quietly, but alas, my opportunity to make a witty comment about actually being able to attract men (or at least one young Paul) was lost. Meanwhile, I am just gathering unwanted details about this woman’s boring life. She just told whatever idiot who is stupid/bored enough to talk to her that this train is really loud. It seemed like Idiot Friend said that she couldn’t hear anything in the background and that the train didn't seem loud to her. I wonder why. Maybe because Woman Who Sounds Like Cow has talking/chewing capabilities that rival the loudness of C’s rape whistle and would easily block out any noise from the train's mechanical function.
The guy next to me now is incessantly scratching himself. He probs gots the herp.
Anyway, I am now back and unpacked and am just oh-so-tempted by the early-90s video I must watch for Français. I'm sure you'll be hearing from the one and only C tomorrow night.
Your hickeyed source for all important train observations,
M.
Anyway, I am now back and unpacked and am just oh-so-tempted by the early-90s video I must watch for Français. I'm sure you'll be hearing from the one and only C tomorrow night.
Your hickeyed source for all important train observations,
M.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Where is my sanity?
Friends and lovers,
Schoolwork is eating my soul. I should not even be blogging right now, as I have approximately 200 pages of dense, indecipherable reading due tomorrow. Add to the fact that I have commitments for five hours of the evening, and you have a very frantic, distraught M. Did I mention that the dense reading assignment is for only one of my classes? I hate staying up late, but I have a feeling that I'm going to be befriending caffeine around 10:30 tonight and getting minimal sleep. This is college for you.
And now I will hand this post over to my loyal comrade, C, since she knows how to say things that actually aren't full of self-pity and depression.
C here. Just a couple of thoughts for this evening......I've come to a jarring conclusion these past couple of days, due, possibly to the flower sex polluting the air, that I have been cursed with a cough that sounds like a sneeze. A "snough," if you will. I am one of those people, who cough once and is met with a "God-Bless-You," a snougher. It's terribly awkward. The dilemma stands: do you correct those mannered souls, responding "Oh that was a cough" or do you just thank them and let it slide? If you have any solutions, please let me know, because it's terrible. Sometimes I try and cough multiple times, just to emphasize it is a cough. It doesn't work. Help.
Oh and every club decided to meet tonight (like every club on campus) so I do need to get going.....and Jack offered to pay me for my services....of doing his homework for him duh....get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyhow back to the grind....perhaps something will happen tomorrow? Maybe? Someday someone will get some action.
Chastely Yours,
C & M
Schoolwork is eating my soul. I should not even be blogging right now, as I have approximately 200 pages of dense, indecipherable reading due tomorrow. Add to the fact that I have commitments for five hours of the evening, and you have a very frantic, distraught M. Did I mention that the dense reading assignment is for only one of my classes? I hate staying up late, but I have a feeling that I'm going to be befriending caffeine around 10:30 tonight and getting minimal sleep. This is college for you.
And now I will hand this post over to my loyal comrade, C, since she knows how to say things that actually aren't full of self-pity and depression.
C here. Just a couple of thoughts for this evening......I've come to a jarring conclusion these past couple of days, due, possibly to the flower sex polluting the air, that I have been cursed with a cough that sounds like a sneeze. A "snough," if you will. I am one of those people, who cough once and is met with a "God-Bless-You," a snougher. It's terribly awkward. The dilemma stands: do you correct those mannered souls, responding "Oh that was a cough" or do you just thank them and let it slide? If you have any solutions, please let me know, because it's terrible. Sometimes I try and cough multiple times, just to emphasize it is a cough. It doesn't work. Help.
Oh and every club decided to meet tonight (like every club on campus) so I do need to get going.....and Jack offered to pay me for my services....of doing his homework for him duh....get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyhow back to the grind....perhaps something will happen tomorrow? Maybe? Someday someone will get some action.
Chastely Yours,
C & M
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Study Sunday (With a Thong Break)
Good evening devoted reader (aka Jack),
I am wearing a thong.
Just thought I would put that out there, though it has kind of been on my mind for a while now (since, like, when I first put in on a few hours ago). During a study break today, around the 4 o'clock hour, Ellen and Lee accompanied me to a certain "Victoria's Secret" where, after much debate, I purchased my very first thong for $10. 47.
On the way there, Lee, being who he is, revealed his uncanny ability to guess anyone's bra size anywhere at any time. Ellen ad myself put him to the test. He nailed it--both times. I told him he could work for a travelling circus and guess people's bra sizes for money. He said he could do that or just work for Victoria's Secret. Yes, Victoria's Secret is probably the better option there. See? He knows everything.
In other news (before C goes to bed at about the same time as her 93-year-old Grandma), M & C spent an extended amount of time at the library where computers were being occupied by not only university students, but also a homeless man who was talking to himself and listening to Beyonce Knowles and an Indian woman watching Bollywood videos and game shows on Youtube without headphones. Needless to say it was a diverse crowd in the Lib.
We also spent a good amount of time this afternoon pronouncing French words poorly and listening to quality music such as: one to get us inspired, one to get us excited about French, one to act like Frank and sing to, one for M to show case her knowledge of French, and one for C to show case her knowledge of Italian.
Like we've said before, lots of exciting things.
Spotted: Hank walking back into our dorm with Skinny Sally last night. When asked about it, he claims that they were going to help their friend "the toilet". Perhaps a missing word there, Hank? Or perhaps not. According to a first hand account, Skinny Sally is nowhere NEAR as ravishing as our very own heroine, so we assume Hank's intentions were innocent. Unless, of course, he was looking to get some easy ass. And, lets be real, the easy ones are always ugly.
Ok. I have finished my "cottage double" and will wait to expand on some issues until my counterpart has finished her examen francais and we can joint blog together. I can hardly wait.
Nous t'embrace et nous sommes enchantees,
C&M
I am wearing a thong.
Just thought I would put that out there, though it has kind of been on my mind for a while now (since, like, when I first put in on a few hours ago). During a study break today, around the 4 o'clock hour, Ellen and Lee accompanied me to a certain "Victoria's Secret" where, after much debate, I purchased my very first thong for $10. 47.
On the way there, Lee, being who he is, revealed his uncanny ability to guess anyone's bra size anywhere at any time. Ellen ad myself put him to the test. He nailed it--both times. I told him he could work for a travelling circus and guess people's bra sizes for money. He said he could do that or just work for Victoria's Secret. Yes, Victoria's Secret is probably the better option there. See? He knows everything.
In other news (before C goes to bed at about the same time as her 93-year-old Grandma), M & C spent an extended amount of time at the library where computers were being occupied by not only university students, but also a homeless man who was talking to himself and listening to Beyonce Knowles and an Indian woman watching Bollywood videos and game shows on Youtube without headphones. Needless to say it was a diverse crowd in the Lib.
We also spent a good amount of time this afternoon pronouncing French words poorly and listening to quality music such as: one to get us inspired, one to get us excited about French, one to act like Frank and sing to, one for M to show case her knowledge of French, and one for C to show case her knowledge of Italian.
Like we've said before, lots of exciting things.
Spotted: Hank walking back into our dorm with Skinny Sally last night. When asked about it, he claims that they were going to help their friend "the toilet". Perhaps a missing word there, Hank? Or perhaps not. According to a first hand account, Skinny Sally is nowhere NEAR as ravishing as our very own heroine, so we assume Hank's intentions were innocent. Unless, of course, he was looking to get some easy ass. And, lets be real, the easy ones are always ugly.
Ok. I have finished my "cottage double" and will wait to expand on some issues until my counterpart has finished her examen francais and we can joint blog together. I can hardly wait.
Nous t'embrace et nous sommes enchantees,
C&M
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Library Update
We are at the library in very good company. Among our fellow Saturday-night studiers, we have the following:
- Girl with Unibrow (and Moustache?) You know how self-conscious we get about facial hair.
- Girl Who Has Not Met a Hairbrush in Three Years
- Asian Boy with LSAT Book
- Middle Eastern Boy Who Has Obviously Been Crying
- Statue that Looks Like a Vagina
We've got a feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night.
Studiously yours,
C. & M.
J & J, E & H, and Easy A
Devoted followers,
My apologies for falling behind on my blogging duties, but the past couple of days have been a whirlwind. As my darling C mentioned, I went to see the incredible Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice on Thursday night. The two of them make the cutest couple of indie love on the planet. Jenny is absolutely adorbs, and the chemistry she had with Johnny on stage was tangible but appropriate. Their music is so timeless, though I admit that it brings me back to the days of country/folk singers in the 70s with some 2000s pop thrown in for good measure. Too bad I was not alive in the 70s. Anyway, Jenny and I held eye contact for about 10 solid seconds, which gave me shivers. Later I was chosen, along with 3 other girls, to go on stage and sing with J & J. I loved it. I love that Jenny knew my name for about 4 minutes. I know that I sound like a 12-year-old who just came back from her first Biebs concert, but it was worth it. And it is worth your time to check out J & J yourselves.
I just realized that a fair number of you may not actually know who Jenny is. You may have heard her with her old band, Rilo Kiley. In any case, here are some links you should check out. RK. J & J
After floating above the clouds in my post-concert daze, I came back to find myself sexiled, or so I'd thought. I thought Ellen was certainly with Hank since I had not heard from her in a while, and C had gotten come recon that indicated the sexile was true. This gave me an excuse to go to another room and further bond with Jack and Frank, both of whom are quite amusing characters in very different ways. Jack and I have a lot in common, and I think Frank and I might, though I'm not sure what yet. Regardless, I have been spending a fair amount of time in their room for the past few days/nights. We are officially friends with Jack, and I'm still working on Frank. But back to the important things- the supposed sexile (the fake sexile? the fexile?). It turns out that E & H were in our room, but that they were probably just talking and getting to know each other by the time I came back. There may have been some cuddle action, and for that, I am supremely jealous of E. Some other events with Hank unfolded last night as well, but our heroine, E, is still a bit confused about the signals involved in this fledgling...thing. We will keep you posted on the essential deets of the tales of E & H.
Last night C and I went with some pals to see Easy A. Overall, we came to the consensus that it is a mature version of Mean Girls, and perhaps even funnier than that, mostly because the lines haven't begun to be over-quoted yet. We agree, though, that this movie may not be one to see repeatedly. We loved it, but there would not be much to get from the movie by watching it subsequent times. We were surprised that the two guys who came with us actually liked the movie, but we were more surprised that Emma Stone is a movie star, despite her European breasts. (Note: Lee has deemed cup sizes < C to be "European".) It was reassuring to see a real person, rather than a plastic-surgeried bimbo, in the lead role of Olive. The whole movie was just a big, clever laughing fit. We especially appreciated Olive's parents. You should probably just see this movie for them. And Penn Badgley.
Readers, I have some dramatic news. Ellen and C have changed their appearances via brightly-colored streaks in their hair. Though I contemplated the idea myself, I have decided to hold off for now. However, there is still some extra blue dye, so who knows what may happen in the coming days, weeks, and months. Things could get a little crazar in here.
It is now 9:33 on a Saturday night, and darling C and I are off to the library. This is what we get for having off-campus jobs that consume our lives. But of course, we still make time for blogging and observing and creeping.
And now, for a final thought, I have not a TFTD, but a QFTD, a quote from the day.
Jack: In my mind, Mother Teresa is young and attractive.
Frank: (As he holds up a newspaper with a picture of Mother Teresa) I think not. But I do always get her confused with Harriet Tubman.
A quote from Frank is all we need to go out with a bang.
xoxo,
M.
My apologies for falling behind on my blogging duties, but the past couple of days have been a whirlwind. As my darling C mentioned, I went to see the incredible Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice on Thursday night. The two of them make the cutest couple of indie love on the planet. Jenny is absolutely adorbs, and the chemistry she had with Johnny on stage was tangible but appropriate. Their music is so timeless, though I admit that it brings me back to the days of country/folk singers in the 70s with some 2000s pop thrown in for good measure. Too bad I was not alive in the 70s. Anyway, Jenny and I held eye contact for about 10 solid seconds, which gave me shivers. Later I was chosen, along with 3 other girls, to go on stage and sing with J & J. I loved it. I love that Jenny knew my name for about 4 minutes. I know that I sound like a 12-year-old who just came back from her first Biebs concert, but it was worth it. And it is worth your time to check out J & J yourselves.
I just realized that a fair number of you may not actually know who Jenny is. You may have heard her with her old band, Rilo Kiley. In any case, here are some links you should check out. RK. J & J
After floating above the clouds in my post-concert daze, I came back to find myself sexiled, or so I'd thought. I thought Ellen was certainly with Hank since I had not heard from her in a while, and C had gotten come recon that indicated the sexile was true. This gave me an excuse to go to another room and further bond with Jack and Frank, both of whom are quite amusing characters in very different ways. Jack and I have a lot in common, and I think Frank and I might, though I'm not sure what yet. Regardless, I have been spending a fair amount of time in their room for the past few days/nights. We are officially friends with Jack, and I'm still working on Frank. But back to the important things- the supposed sexile (the fake sexile? the fexile?). It turns out that E & H were in our room, but that they were probably just talking and getting to know each other by the time I came back. There may have been some cuddle action, and for that, I am supremely jealous of E. Some other events with Hank unfolded last night as well, but our heroine, E, is still a bit confused about the signals involved in this fledgling...thing. We will keep you posted on the essential deets of the tales of E & H.
Last night C and I went with some pals to see Easy A. Overall, we came to the consensus that it is a mature version of Mean Girls, and perhaps even funnier than that, mostly because the lines haven't begun to be over-quoted yet. We agree, though, that this movie may not be one to see repeatedly. We loved it, but there would not be much to get from the movie by watching it subsequent times. We were surprised that the two guys who came with us actually liked the movie, but we were more surprised that Emma Stone is a movie star, despite her European breasts. (Note: Lee has deemed cup sizes < C to be "European".) It was reassuring to see a real person, rather than a plastic-surgeried bimbo, in the lead role of Olive. The whole movie was just a big, clever laughing fit. We especially appreciated Olive's parents. You should probably just see this movie for them. And Penn Badgley.
Readers, I have some dramatic news. Ellen and C have changed their appearances via brightly-colored streaks in their hair. Though I contemplated the idea myself, I have decided to hold off for now. However, there is still some extra blue dye, so who knows what may happen in the coming days, weeks, and months. Things could get a little crazar in here.
It is now 9:33 on a Saturday night, and darling C and I are off to the library. This is what we get for having off-campus jobs that consume our lives. But of course, we still make time for blogging and observing and creeping.
And now, for a final thought, I have not a TFTD, but a QFTD, a quote from the day.
Jack: In my mind, Mother Teresa is young and attractive.
Frank: (As he holds up a newspaper with a picture of Mother Teresa) I think not. But I do always get her confused with Harriet Tubman.
A quote from Frank is all we need to go out with a bang.
xoxo,
M.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Found it! The following is from M earlier today:
Comrades,
We may have spoken too soon when we said that love is blossoming. Ellen's hero may be less than such, and certain others who have been pursued just aren't returning the love to their pursuers. Such is life, we suppose, but at the same time, who doesn't just want to cuddle once in a while? We do. We are champion cuddlers.
Lee's knowledge continues to stun us all. M's lack of knowledge is getting her down. A new friendship with Jack has helped though. Jack is a pretty great guy, and he has been tolerant of crazy girl talk for 2 nights in a row. We wonder why Frank doesn't join in. It probably has something to do with his desire to remain mysterious.
We are desperate for the weekend.
Comrades,
We may have spoken too soon when we said that love is blossoming. Ellen's hero may be less than such, and certain others who have been pursued just aren't returning the love to their pursuers. Such is life, we suppose, but at the same time, who doesn't just want to cuddle once in a while? We do. We are champion cuddlers.
Lee's knowledge continues to stun us all. M's lack of knowledge is getting her down. A new friendship with Jack has helped though. Jack is a pretty great guy, and he has been tolerant of crazy girl talk for 2 nights in a row. We wonder why Frank doesn't join in. It probably has something to do with his desire to remain mysterious.
We are desperate for the weekend.
Thirsty Thursday
Unfortunately, my counterpart, M, is away at the moment. She is currently among many other hipsters enjoying the sounds of Jenny Lewis (whoever that is--sorry, M). Apparently, she started a post today, but C can't find it. C is the shittiest computer user the world has ever known. Therefore, she cannot find M's post. And for that, C is sincerely sorry.
Welcome to our first Thirsty Thursday, because, newsflash, Thursday is actually part of the weekend in college. Oh, you didn't know? Don't worry, I forget from time to time as well. The real wake-up call was in walking back from the laundry room, passing girls in dresses that could pass as shirts and heels that were the heighth of half of my leg. Seeing as that it is 11:00 on a SCHOOL NIGHT (those apparently don't exist anymore--those and packed lunches with PB&J and Apple Juice....) I have a different attire that consists of oversized boxer shorts (that, no, never belonged to a male) and a semi-turtleneck shirt I bought at a fish market, along with a pair of loafers. I pass Frank: "Hey you goin' out tonight?" He asks. Yeah, the pajama party is right down the street. NBD.
But, seeing as that it IS indeed "Thirsty Thursday," C had to celebrate. My roommate and I just popped the top open to sparkling grapefruit juice. Cheers. Almost there, right? Anyhow. Back to the goss (a pathetic abbreves for "gossip").
A legend has started in our dorm. A woman, female, girl (whatever name you ascribe to that gender) has been dubbed "the bearded lady" [http://tinyurl.com/2fqp7pq]. If the name does not say enough, I will describe. A patch of whiskers has sprouted on her upper lip--and, because this poor unfortunate soul was cursed with dark hair and very, very pale skin, the unthinkable has happened--these harmless, dark, hairs have merited the status of "mustache." And, I very much regret to inform you that this poor, unfortunate soul is your very own C.
Now as we mourn for her briefly, we can move onto the other news of the day. Lee knows everything seems to be the general theme of EVERY DAY, but recently he's had some competition from Jack. Hell, Jack even offered to lend C his razor. In any case, Lee's boy advice, taken word-for-word by our very own heroine and other helpless females (though please, allow me to clarify, Ellen is anything but helpless) has worked like a frikken charm. It's unbelievable--they're eating out of the palm of their hands.
In other news, snuggling invitations have been declined. Apparently not all heterosexual men crave a good cuddle. What is this world coming to? But, lets be real, half of the college population just wants to get some action anyway--can't that just come in the form of cuddling?? We'll work on that one later.
And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for! The TFTD (which is actually a series of texts):
8:09PM(203): I'm betting he won't text me tonight....
8:10PM(203): It's okay I have work
8:11PM(203): But I wish he would
8:12PM(203): I'm so lame!!!
We've all been there. For now, the izze be gettin' cold.
A very parched yours, XOXO,
C & M
Welcome to our first Thirsty Thursday, because, newsflash, Thursday is actually part of the weekend in college. Oh, you didn't know? Don't worry, I forget from time to time as well. The real wake-up call was in walking back from the laundry room, passing girls in dresses that could pass as shirts and heels that were the heighth of half of my leg. Seeing as that it is 11:00 on a SCHOOL NIGHT (those apparently don't exist anymore--those and packed lunches with PB&J and Apple Juice....) I have a different attire that consists of oversized boxer shorts (that, no, never belonged to a male) and a semi-turtleneck shirt I bought at a fish market, along with a pair of loafers. I pass Frank: "Hey you goin' out tonight?" He asks. Yeah, the pajama party is right down the street. NBD.
But, seeing as that it IS indeed "Thirsty Thursday," C had to celebrate. My roommate and I just popped the top open to sparkling grapefruit juice. Cheers. Almost there, right? Anyhow. Back to the goss (a pathetic abbreves for "gossip").
A legend has started in our dorm. A woman, female, girl (whatever name you ascribe to that gender) has been dubbed "the bearded lady" [http://tinyurl.com/2fqp7pq]. If the name does not say enough, I will describe. A patch of whiskers has sprouted on her upper lip--and, because this poor unfortunate soul was cursed with dark hair and very, very pale skin, the unthinkable has happened--these harmless, dark, hairs have merited the status of "mustache." And, I very much regret to inform you that this poor, unfortunate soul is your very own C.
Now as we mourn for her briefly, we can move onto the other news of the day. Lee knows everything seems to be the general theme of EVERY DAY, but recently he's had some competition from Jack. Hell, Jack even offered to lend C his razor. In any case, Lee's boy advice, taken word-for-word by our very own heroine and other helpless females (though please, allow me to clarify, Ellen is anything but helpless) has worked like a frikken charm. It's unbelievable--they're eating out of the palm of their hands.
In other news, snuggling invitations have been declined. Apparently not all heterosexual men crave a good cuddle. What is this world coming to? But, lets be real, half of the college population just wants to get some action anyway--can't that just come in the form of cuddling?? We'll work on that one later.
And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for! The TFTD (which is actually a series of texts):
8:09PM(203): I'm betting he won't text me tonight....
8:10PM(203): It's okay I have work
8:11PM(203): But I wish he would
8:12PM(203): I'm so lame!!!
We've all been there. For now, the izze be gettin' cold.
A very parched yours, XOXO,
C & M
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Je Parle, Tu Parles
Exciting things are happening every day here.
Ok, that's a lie. Nothing exciting really happened today. Four of us are sitting in the dorm, eating kettle corn that was imported from Costco yesterday, and drinking coffee from a Keurig. This is shit. I need to pass this to my counterpart and continue reading "How Democratic is the American Constitution?" (To save you from 180 pages of reading, the answer is stated pretty simply in the first couple pages: Not very democratic.)
My friends, all I have to offer is a TFTD.
202: "Your hair is always as voluminous as J. Lo's ass to me."
We're really hoping that hump day tomorrow brings a bit more excitement. Perhaps M will even not fail her Français quiz. Nous esperons.
Back. So Lee explained a fabulous game to us--and of course, it's probably the best game ever, since Lee told us about it, and, don't forget, Lee knows everything. Anyhow, it's called "Copy/Paste." It came up last night when I got a particularly vile hot dog from the dining hall. I looked at it and I said, "It's like a rock. Yum. Delicious." To which Lee stopped me and said, "Wait. Copy." The way the game works, then, is that in any other setting at any other future date, Lee could ask me a question (like in front of someone's parents, or by a waiter in a restaurant, etc), a question such as "Hey, how was he last night? Paste." To which I would have to respond "It's like a rock. Yum. Delicious." Get it? Try it sometime. Lee knows everything.
George was introduced to some outsiders today...the cats in his pants merited some giggles. Like we said, we'll talk about George later.
It's a rofl-fucking-copter in here.
XOXO,
C. & M.
Ok, that's a lie. Nothing exciting really happened today. Four of us are sitting in the dorm, eating kettle corn that was imported from Costco yesterday, and drinking coffee from a Keurig. This is shit. I need to pass this to my counterpart and continue reading "How Democratic is the American Constitution?" (To save you from 180 pages of reading, the answer is stated pretty simply in the first couple pages: Not very democratic.)
My friends, all I have to offer is a TFTD.
202: "Your hair is always as voluminous as J. Lo's ass to me."
We're really hoping that hump day tomorrow brings a bit more excitement. Perhaps M will even not fail her Français quiz. Nous esperons.
Back. So Lee explained a fabulous game to us--and of course, it's probably the best game ever, since Lee told us about it, and, don't forget, Lee knows everything. Anyhow, it's called "Copy/Paste." It came up last night when I got a particularly vile hot dog from the dining hall. I looked at it and I said, "It's like a rock. Yum. Delicious." To which Lee stopped me and said, "Wait. Copy." The way the game works, then, is that in any other setting at any other future date, Lee could ask me a question (like in front of someone's parents, or by a waiter in a restaurant, etc), a question such as "Hey, how was he last night? Paste." To which I would have to respond "It's like a rock. Yum. Delicious." Get it? Try it sometime. Lee knows everything.
George was introduced to some outsiders today...the cats in his pants merited some giggles. Like we said, we'll talk about George later.
It's a rofl-fucking-copter in here.
XOXO,
C. & M.
Monday, September 13, 2010
R. Kelly, Rudeness, Racquetball, and Romance
Today was a pretty epic day.
At dinner, we discussed the enduring legacy of R. Kelly with David. We're psyched that our floormates have some concept of good music. D also revealed that he had a rather frightening dream involving Frank. We can only hope that F will show up in our dreams, though maybe in a different way.
We also heard from a reliable source that a lecture by a former president was rudely interrupted by some crazy who stormed the stage and had to be removed by security. Though this kid's passion was laudable, we suppose, we're not fans of how he chose to share his feelings with the rest of the community. Grow up. Maybe you'll find some tact somewhere in your rage.
At dinner, we discussed the enduring legacy of R. Kelly with David. We're psyched that our floormates have some concept of good music. D also revealed that he had a rather frightening dream involving Frank. We can only hope that F will show up in our dreams, though maybe in a different way.
We also heard from a reliable source that a lecture by a former president was rudely interrupted by some crazy who stormed the stage and had to be removed by security. Though this kid's passion was laudable, we suppose, we're not fans of how he chose to share his feelings with the rest of the community. Grow up. Maybe you'll find some tact somewhere in your rage.
* * * * *
"What does one wear to a racquetball date?" was the question of the day for our lovely friend and heroine. Love is in the air, blossoming during off-campus parties on Saturday nights. Drunk weekend hook-ups become rendez-vouses on weekdays, and, apparently, dates where the couple escapes to the gym. We like that Ellen and Hank are off to a healthy start--no pun intended. Anyway, our heroine decided upon a tennis skirt and a tight fitting top--apparently, though, for all you racquetball fanatics, long socks are the way to go. Will there be another date sometime soon? Yet another mystery of the universe arises. Boys are mysterious creatures (some more than others-cough, Frank and Ian, cough cough) and their thought processes can rarely be determined. According to Lee, our heroine must wait until Wednesday to see if Hank contacts her again. If not by Wednesday, Lee claims it will become a "lost cause."And Lee knows. He just does.
Another young lad has expressed interest in our heroine; we attribute her many suitors to her hot bod and her dazzling personality, among other reasons, of course. Anyhow, C got some reconnaissance at the library last night and discovered that yes, the rumors were true, and LGBD was interested in our friend and heroine. Despite the fact that he'd been denying it for days now (cut us a break--we've only been here for two and a half weeks), he finally fessed up after much probing. When asked for a statement, LGBD replied: "She's cool." Still bashful? He's a man of few words and many sweaters.
Meanwhile, C and M have begun on a new mission today: to capture the heart of a certain "Ian" who lives in our dorm. Well, actually, after some spying (but not creeping), it was discovered he lives in the same dorm as us! He was spotted first in the cafeteria, and a friend of a friend of a friend did some digging to find out more about this mysterious character with Mabelline-Ad eyelashes. Another enigmatic boy, so of course C and M are immediately drawn to him. What can we say? The brooding type is irresistible. Spotted: Ian with a cute girl today in the dining hall. M assured C that this stranger was a lipstick lesbian, only talking to Ian because she needed the company. You never know. (But Lee probably knows. He always knows).
And a shout out to George for doing his job today. Unfortunately, we can't say much about George now, only that he is the ever-vigilant virginity protector, and that he completes the task assigned to him well. We will continue to thank him in the future as we wouldn't want his hard work to go unacknowledged.
Another young lad has expressed interest in our heroine; we attribute her many suitors to her hot bod and her dazzling personality, among other reasons, of course. Anyhow, C got some reconnaissance at the library last night and discovered that yes, the rumors were true, and LGBD was interested in our friend and heroine. Despite the fact that he'd been denying it for days now (cut us a break--we've only been here for two and a half weeks), he finally fessed up after much probing. When asked for a statement, LGBD replied: "She's cool." Still bashful? He's a man of few words and many sweaters.
Meanwhile, C and M have begun on a new mission today: to capture the heart of a certain "Ian" who lives in our dorm. Well, actually, after some spying (but not creeping), it was discovered he lives in the same dorm as us! He was spotted first in the cafeteria, and a friend of a friend of a friend did some digging to find out more about this mysterious character with Mabelline-Ad eyelashes. Another enigmatic boy, so of course C and M are immediately drawn to him. What can we say? The brooding type is irresistible. Spotted: Ian with a cute girl today in the dining hall. M assured C that this stranger was a lipstick lesbian, only talking to Ian because she needed the company. You never know. (But Lee probably knows. He always knows).
And a shout out to George for doing his job today. Unfortunately, we can't say much about George now, only that he is the ever-vigilant virginity protector, and that he completes the task assigned to him well. We will continue to thank him in the future as we wouldn't want his hard work to go unacknowledged.
And now for some...
Miracles of the Day
802: "this morning some rando frosh boy sat down with me at breakfast to make friends, and my immediate thought was, shit i guess i don't look intimidatingly hot 2day."
That's all for today, readers. Who knows, maybe we'll have some more juicy developments tomorrow. There is a part of every day that is so funny we rofl.
Your favorite observers,
C. & M.
- Between the two of us, we had 4 encounters with the most famous of the several celebrities on campus. And by celebs, we mean self-righteous kids who feels the need to inform us all each time they take a dump. So this was obviously a sign.
- As the two of us struggled with a huge load of food and other dorm essentials delivered to C across campus, we realized the need for the strength of one of our burly young floormates. Just as we tried to call one of them, none other than Jack started walking towards us. He was about to head off campus, but he took time out of his schedule to help us with our load. Thanks, J. We wish there were more guys like you out there.
- M. has been chattering nonstop about the VMA performances she's been catching up on today. There were definitely some stellar performances. Of course, Florence + the Machine ranks high on her list, but when does she not? The vocals were not Flo's best, but her costume and styling, along with the dancers, the gospel choir, and the whole production, were AMAZING. Of course, we can't forget about Jason Derülo's sweet collab with Deadmau5, nor can we forget about the eternally sexy and talented Usher. If only he had actually sung more. He was also wearing too many clothes. Whoever did his styling was pretty lame, unfortunately. At least his dance moves were legit. Oh, but poor T. Swift...as much as we want to love her for her charm, we really have to question her talent. She seems like a nice girl, though- we'd both take her over Miley any day.
802: "this morning some rando frosh boy sat down with me at breakfast to make friends, and my immediate thought was, shit i guess i don't look intimidatingly hot 2day."
That's all for today, readers. Who knows, maybe we'll have some more juicy developments tomorrow. There is a part of every day that is so funny we rofl.
Your favorite observers,
C. & M.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Our Formal Introductions
Hello, world. We're coming to you from one of the many American institutions for higher learning. But we're not about to tell you which.
We decided to make this blog after realizing our gift for making true observations and for enjoying the strangest aspects of the world around us- college life.
After brooding over a baby name book, we decided on the unique "GotChoBootyInMahHand" because it represents what we see in a lot of the guys here.
Exciting things are happening every day--whether it be in the common room in our hall, or in the nearby cafeteria. Like this evening. Lee gave a killer impression of a heterosexual. Meanwhile, other members of the table were complaining about the lack of weekend booty and a serial sexiler. The soft serve ice cream was extra yellow today as well. Like we said, generally exciting stuff.
Stick around- we'll be regularly posting the things that everyone thinks but no one dares to say.
Bootily yours,
C. & M.
We decided to make this blog after realizing our gift for making true observations and for enjoying the strangest aspects of the world around us- college life.
After brooding over a baby name book, we decided on the unique "GotChoBootyInMahHand" because it represents what we see in a lot of the guys here.
Exciting things are happening every day--whether it be in the common room in our hall, or in the nearby cafeteria. Like this evening. Lee gave a killer impression of a heterosexual. Meanwhile, other members of the table were complaining about the lack of weekend booty and a serial sexiler. The soft serve ice cream was extra yellow today as well. Like we said, generally exciting stuff.
Stick around- we'll be regularly posting the things that everyone thinks but no one dares to say.
Bootily yours,
C. & M.
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