Take note: Lurpiness is fantastic. She's wearing 4-inch high heels. Yeeaaahhhh...
Sarah and Melany, the un-roommated
Here, have a side order of man hug for the road:
You need to know a few things. First off, I am a victim of the public transportation system. First time on the subway, some smelly guy fell asleep on my shoulder. First time coming home on the bus, some old man sat next to me and told creepy jokes during the entire ride. Second off, I think I must be incompetent. My very very first time on the bus by myself, I got on the southbound instead of northbound bus. I arrived at work 1 hour late. The next day, I got on the 833 instead of the 830. I arrived at work 1 hour late.
So you see, I have some issues. I think I need to take more precautions. Today, campus bound, I sat in front of Santa Clause. He must have lost a lot of weight, his elves, and his sense of what's holly and jolly, because he was not looking or smelling his finest. I can't be sure if he was talking to me or the woman he was sitting next to; I chose not to make eye-contact. In either event, I was extremely flattered that he trusted me with his life story. A younger man, he got tangled up with the wrong crowd and fell prey to the cold-hearted-lover, hard marijuana. Marijuana must not've been good to him, because somehow he wound up in jail for a year, threatening to beat up the guards when they wouldn't get out of his business. Don't worry, readers, he could have taken them. He learned how to defend himself in the military, where he was always one step ahead of the enemy. In fact, he's always one step ahead of anyone. He's never killed a man. He never will. He doesn't think so, at least. But he could. It might be a nice challenge, in fact.
I love the bus.
Buy me one of these:
And I will love you forever. You want that a lot. This is what happens to people I love forever:
Obviously Jamba Thursday isn't enough for me. Is one football shirt and no chocolate covered cinnamon bears enough for you? If so, we can still work something out. Anyone like frozen yogurt? I've got plenty! That my friends, is another ghetto post for another ghetto day.
This Jamba Thursday: Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich smoothie off the secret menu. I'll let you know how that goes.
Story.
2 girls.
One me. One friend.
Studying Accounting.
In the Wilk.
One boy.
Scratch that.
One man.
One attractive man.
Takes a sit.
At our table.
In the Wilk.
Man breaks out the small talk.
Over his Taco Bell.
Girls try to focus on work while happily conversationalizing.
Man lets out a burp.
Girls stare at computer screens.
Man dribbles beans down his chin.
Man does not wipe chin.
Man comments on how yummy Taco Bell is.
Girl politely agrees.
Man lets out another burp.
Scratch that.
Man lets out a belch.
Man lets out a royal belch.
Man offers a bite.
Girl explains that she already ate. So no.
10 painful minutes later
Man lets a couple more burps escape.
Girls make queasy faces at their screens.
Man gets up to leave.
Man offers girls to shake his elbow.
Man's hands are covered in beans.
As is his entire side of the table.
Man leaves.
Scratch that.
Unattractive hobo leaves.
Girls discuss chances that unattractive hobo was being for real.
10 minutes later
Unattractive hobo returns.
He was acting for a psychology assignment.
Scene was being filmed for a project.
Attractive man apologizes profusely.
Attractive man cleans table and walks away.
Girls feel good about life.
Attractive man should consider giving acting classes.
Girl would be first to enroll.
I always knew the "other half" of the human species would come around eventually. That's a lie. But in any event, they did.
The balloon's from the crazy Asian.
The sweets are from the skinny white guy and my boy Mandell (pictured in previous post).
The note's from a "secret admirer."
The only thing more wonderful than coming back to school after a crappy weekend of bed-riddenness and discovering a small heap of surprises is finding out that each surprise is from a different boy. I should've enrolled in college years ago. I love these guys.
In other news, come to my room if you're feeling down. I promise I have products that will make you the happiest girl in the world.
So, I run a drug counter?
Unfortunately, all that wasn't enough to prevent me from having a thunderous seizure on the floor of my largest class. About a thousand students. Way bigger room than my high school auditorium. It's chill. I made it about halfway through statistics before I could no longer hold back the beastly and 'sgusting hack attack. I got as far as standing up to leave. Then I saw the 20 students blocking my escape route on either side, and sat back down.
Don't worry, my friend had a water bottle and offered it to me after only 2 or 3 hundred upperclassman and half the BYU football team had located the source of the noise. Don't worry again, there was no water left. I beat the water bottle into compliance and was struck in the face by a massive ice block. That must've scared the coughs away or something, because I was actually fine for most of the rest of the class.
I took 1300% of my daily vitamin c recommendations this morning. Must be time to go to work and rake in the pocket change. I think I should be paid just for riding the bus each day. But that is a story for another post.
Life is awesome and great when I'm stuck at home so as not to contaminate everyone, sneaking out of bed and into closets when the house is empty to look for cough drops and my voice. Life is 1.8 times awesomer and greater when I'm on campus rockin' my favorite kicks at dances, staying up way too late playing Swedish Twister, watching boys out-dance Beyonce to "Single Ladies," getting through my online lectures by entertaining myself with the double speed and half speed options for watching Master Nemrow, looking extra zoobie for football games, and making time to revise run-on sentences.
I'm getting the best education here. So far I have learned:
-If you feed them, men will come.
-It is unwise to lose your phone, keys, and student i.d. all at the same time.
-2:00 a.m. is not after curfew; it is only after visiting hours. At this time, it is definitely ok to go outside and play "satan-worship" games as loud as you like with your FHE brethren and your FHE brethren wannabes.
-Crazy asians and skinny white guys make up 66% of the population of hilarious people.
-Root beer candies are not cough drops.
-Chocolate covered cinnamon bears are heaven-sent and probably loaded with illegal drugs.
-There's an unsaid rule that cold cereal is not up for grabs. Everything else is.
Before, all I needed was my journal, because I could chat it up with anyone that mattered every day. But now I'm gone. Stranded. About 10 miles away (ya, I could probably walk home). In P-town. Having the time of my life. And I'm not letting you guys read my journal, so I figure the time is ripe like Tim's feet to get this blog a rollin. What I'm trying to say is...Fam Bam, Geek Squad, [anyone else who is looking for a good blog to stalk during work when they get sick of Harry Potter] I MADE THIS FOR YOU!!!! (Didn't catch the reference? Shame. Go here. I wish I could say Julian was my homeboy. Sadly, I'm not that cool.)
College is fabulous. Having only been here for a week, I am definitely qualified to say that. 5 years and 7 changes in my major later, I'm sure I'll be changing my tune. For now, check back every so often for pictures and thoughts. Such as this:
This is my roommate, Sarah. She's super cute and she smiles in pictures. Sometimes when it's after midnight and we should be in bed, we have funny misunderstanding. As I'm painting my nails and reading a textbook:
Sarah: Are you highlighting your book with that?
Me: Uhhhh, ya? (I'm slow)
10 minutes later:
Sarah: I just love moleskins!
Me: Oh my gosh, me too!
Sarah: I have a black one at home that I really miss, but I like my yellow one too.
Me: Ya, they're so nice. Uhhhhh...ya. Wait, what?
She was talking about her journal. I thought she was talking about the blister patches and was going with it. Yes, with that much enthusiasm. I just couldn't bear to burst her bubble if she really thought they were that cool. Hence the picture. Moleskins, a highlighter, and nail polish.
When it's the night before I move out and I can't sleep, I:
-Pack my undies and "Men of Hawaii" calendar (these 2 items are unrelated)
-Lie in bed thinking about how I hope in the morning I can get to my journal, which for some reason is being stashed in the glove compartment of my car, before Jordan finds it and provides his high school buddies with a good laugh
-Give up and grab my ipod, succumbing to such sleepy artists as Michael Giacchino, Enya, and Aaron Copland
-Spend an hour looking for "Kaysonisms," a reminder of my Lyceum orchestra days when I played Copland's Appalachian Spring and befriended Dylan, the Man Flute
-Bust out the Harry Potter (book 6, on this occasion)
-Sneak upstairs for a 3 in the morning snack: smoked pepper jack white cheddar cheese and homemade granola
-Break my own blog ban
I daresay I'd better not log onto Facebook if I think there's any possibility of dozing off for these last 3 hours . . . nah. Here's to the beginning of many sleepless college nights. Cheers.
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