I think AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH sums this whole thing up quite nicely. Stapled finger and all.

Mint Kit-Kats (available for a limited time only so of course I had to buy two entire 8.5 ounce bags of those limited-edition minty wonders) make a poor dinner choice.

I think the nutrition gods are angry with me.

While writing a paper about the power of returning to life in nature to heal oneself for my West in American Culture class, the power went out.

I screamed, I cried, I did an unhappy dance.

Then I thought of the irony of writing a paper about getting back into nature, leaving civilization and all of its hindrances behind, while crying over losing ( Read more... )

Where does the time go between too-hot-to-drink coffee and so-cold-it's-vile-tasting coffee?

There seems to be an odd time-space continuum related to hot beverages. One moment my drink is scalding and my lips scream obscenities at me, the next it's frozen solid and my gag reflex gets some fantastic exercise. How is it that we always miss that ( Read more... )

I've decided to invent the word "stressicle."

stressicle /stres'-i-kul/: adj. unhealthy combination of snowy coldness, unmitigated ventures to librarious institutions, esp. the Colby-Sawyer College li-barn-y, and plethorous final papers, presentations, etc. that result in general brainfreeze; especially dangerous to college students the week ( Read more... )

It's snowy outside. Which means Christmas is officially coming, and I must officially get shopping. And, officially, shopping breeds happiness. Minus the normal excitement of breeding.

In other news, why must we be sent an insipid Alpha Chi newsletter, when they could have saved postage by not sending it me, who is largely uninterested in Oklahoma' ( Read more... )

I am proud.

I have accomplished nothing today, aside from drinking a very luscious mocha almond latte from my mother ship, Dunkin Donuts. And wandering the musty aisles of the library, in search of one specific book for an essay in Caribbean Literature and ending up checking out three very nonspecific books. One of which is about surrealist art. ( Read more... )

Pat Anderson just gave me Walt Whitman porn.

Yah. We have a weird relationship.

In other news, there is an official water bottle drought in my room. I only have two left. To get me through the rest of this week. Which is only a day and a half but people, I consume two bottles every three hours. Do you understand the tragical travestyness of this ( Read more... )

Tonight was fruit night. In more ways than one.

Sorry Tom Kealy, I didn't write your paper because I was pretending to be a banana.

You're Invited!!

You are cordially invited to attend a party hosted by moi! The theme of this party is "Suicide Brought On By Preposterous Papers and Projects (and atrocious alliteration)"!! Join us for a fun-filled evening of nachos, popcorn, and masochism - this Friday, December 2nd at 8:00pm!

Please R.S.V.P. A.S.A.P.! Don't forget your ( Read more... )