Darcy has little to do with this post. It's really about Chris Kane.
You know, I make it a point not to hate people. That said, there are a choice few who have managed by their deep-seated wickedness to garner my complete ire at various points within the last 20 years. My suitemate is one of them. That is all I will say. No wait, that's not exactly all. If she slips in the bathtub...it'd be her own drunken fault and I'd probably wait a moment to have a smile and a smug second of vindication before yelling through the walls to ask if she's okay. That's horrible, but yeah, that's what I'd do. Evil people bring out evil in me. I will obsess and plot evil things if you slight me or wound my pride in any way. I think it's a by-product of my southern heritage. Anyway, you reap what you sow. (sew?)
Ooo, I heard a thud and an "ow" come from her side. Maybe dream is fulfilled?
On another note. I've started re-reading a Georgette Heyer book, the only Georgette Heyer book I've ever read, and it's made me feel all nice and warm inside. Basically because it's Regency romance and is slightly Austen-esque and also? the hero has black hair. Which makes me gooey.
Probably one of the craziest late-night stunts I've ever done: eaten salsa at 11:33 pm. (if this were paper, I'd annotate that with a big arrow and the words "nerd" and "no life"). And not good salsa. I bought it today, but mysteriously detect a hint of expiration. This is why I stick with cheese cubes. Cheese cubes are loyal and don't leave me with strange stomach queasiness. Incidentally, there were a lot of, let's say--decrepit--men in Krogers today. One of them was behind me in the express lane and kept talking about the rain (note: there was no rain, it was as bright as a dying star - in supernova stage), and none of these people looked like they had, um...laundry machines at the ready. Or razors for that matter.
Philosophy is FINISHED. Philosophy class is FINISHED. My Philosophy class is absolutely, wonderfully, delightfully FINISHED. I want to sing so many songs. It is OVER. I can stop plotting the instructor's sudden pathogenic illness in my fantasies now. I wish...I don't know I if should say this now, or just wait for katarina to return and tell her then, because I don't have a good descriptive voice and won't do the story/conversation justice in a post. I might just leave the story for our Muppet time or something. (oh thank God she's coming back and we can have Muppet times, along with Starbucks times and Panera times and hopefully Cinnamon Roll times. I was beginning to die here. I'm so glad she's coming back. Really, really glad. Cannot express how glad. Other than I will bake her cinnamon rolls and buy her Starbucks, and maybe let her have some coffee from my Keurig system upon return to podunck if she doesn't bring her own system. Really long parenthetical usage in this post. Wow.) So yeah, I will just wait until I see her to tell her the story.
It makes me laugh though, and I will probably tell it to my children if they end up liking football.
No, I am not dating any football person.
(Although I would welcome a date from any Anthropology people...or Geography people...you know...those people...yes, I really would...please...I love you)
Sidenote: I just met suitemate's boyfriend. He was nice (for a frat boy). Which was really kinda surprising. (by the way, my coffeemaker? Complete conversation starter. Both my roommate's/suitemate's boyfriends commented on it within two seconds of being in the room and looking around. Weird.)
No point to this post. Boring spam is my life, but...yeah. I'm watching the UK version of The Office because I realized I was falling in love with Jim from the American version and needed to stop that infatuation right in its tracks before any serious damage ensued (Pondscum anyone?). This version, the original, is good, but I have to turn it up a little louder what with their accents and all, and the humor takes an extra second for my brain to comprehend because I'm a stupid-dumbified-by-The-Man-American. So I end up laughing a tad later than the jokes call for, but whatev, I'm alone in the room, so all's fair and good.
Okay, I think I'm done now. Maybe I'll go back to reading about the adventures of Vidal and his black hair. Or UK Office. Oh, whatever.
On another cosmically weird note: Chris Kane, Chris Kane, Chris Kane.