Advisory: Keep all Blunt Objects Away. Except for the stapler..I need that.

     Why the hell am I updating this blog when I’m in the middle of finals hell, less than 48 hours away from getting totally owned by Vertebrate Morphology? Because I’m crazy, hormonal, burned out, and I cease to find it odd anymore to crawl out of bed at 3pm because I spent an obscene amount of time writing a nonsensical blog entry, when I should be out there salvaging what’s left of my grade.

But I have a crisis of sorts. In the past 3 years, having been enslaved by the gods of Academia, I have had a slew of choice study locations. No, they weren’t perfect, but they were MINE damnit, and now each and every one of these has been forcibly taken from me. So, because I really have nothing better to write about, I will pen a tribute to my former flames… chronologically.

Freshman Year: I…actually don’t remember studying this year. Only something about a mentally unstable roommate seems to stand out…

Sophomore Year aka The Reign of Hillman Library: I used to find solace in Aldred Reading Room on the Ground floor. There were decent couches, I could smuggle in food, and it was veritably deserted on Fridays .Cough...I know this only because I came there…after..my uh… wild nights of debauchery. Yeah. Anyway, I thought it was pretty nice….apparently, so did every goddamn person I had ever met…ever. After a few weeks of studying in Hillman, rooted to that one solitary location, I realized that I kept running into more of my psycho pre-med classmates than if I’d actually bothered to attend an AED (pre-med honors) meeting. There’s something acutely frightening about having a concentration of that many anal-retentive grade-obsessed piranhas swarming in and descending on the one location that I’d deemed acceptable in that whole god-forsaken library. After a polite smile did nothing to deter people bent on destroying my already minimal concentration, I had no choice but to regretfully leave and disappear into the inky night…

Junior Year:  Starbucks. Corporate. Evil… but damned if they don’t have the most comfortable couches, not to mention a roaring fireplace. On the other hand…it showcases some of the most god-awful music known to mankind including their “Christmas Favorites,” which I swear are on rotation ALL YEAR ROUND. God help you if your CD player dies, as the minions that work the joint show a flagrant disregard for all accepted standards for listenable music. Sometimes I look around as the jarring strains of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” comes on, and watch the behavior of the patrons in baffled shock. “Are you actually TAPPING your goddamn foot to this song?! SNAP OUT OF IT!” Whew. I had to make the sacrifice, give up my vaunted seat in front of the fire, and get the hell out of there.

Senior Year: This year, I frequented Kiva Han, …which is essentially the antithesis of Starbucks. I was cool with the owner who bestowed upon me the dubious honor of the “most studious person he’s ever seen,” the couch was freaking awesome, and the ambient music wasn’t half bad either (not that I could hear it over “Gasolina” hehehe…ahem.) But it is with deep regret that I note that this quaint café is slipping in several crucial areas; 1) The coffee (most notably the Mocha Freezer) is starting to taste like ass. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. 2) The owner has turned the upstairs into an INFERNO. Five minutes on the couch should pretty much guarantee heat stroke. 3) Creepy Kiva Han Guy of the Ambiguous Sexuality has taken to following me around and spouting charming lines like “Wow, I like that shirt on you…the buttons are so shiny. I have one just like it!”, or “Why aren’t you wearing your Che necklace? Do you take it off when you shower?”, and my favorite “I was going to go to that club…for that event…for um…Asians or something. You like those things don’t you? You’d go right?” My measured response that I couldn’t go, as I was UNDERAGE, seemed to have no effect.



Given that in my current state, I’m not feeling terribly charitable towards humanity, I figured it might be best to study at home, with my extensive collection of non-crappy music and arsenal of medication.

This week needs to be over. Muy pronto.

Quote of the Day (an old favorite!):

Lois: “So how was your day?”

Brian: “My day? Un-freakin' believable. First we nailed
this bastard who had the gall to hide his stuff in his
daughter's doll--HER DOLL for God's sake! Where's the
line anymore? Well, I got news for ya, it's not even
on the radar screen! The days of decency and virtue
are gone, honey, BAM, freakin' evaporated like a dingy
stinkin' mud puddle. One day you see your reflection
in it and the next day it's a, it's a damn oil spot on
your cracked driveway, staring back at you, mocking
you, knowing the perverted truths that rot in the pit
of your soul. That's how my freakin' day was!”
[pause]

---Family Guy

A Warm and Fuzzy letter about twin Hitlers!

Here's some background to get you guys prepared for all the laughing to come (original article found here)

The sensational 13 year old neo-nazi twins Lynx and Lamb (and no.. I'm not making these names up)are thankfully inviting criticism from several unlikely sources, and not just for their poppy racist ballads that have all the subtlety of a stripper twirling around a pole, their eerie resemblance to the Children of the Corn, or even their whack job stage mother April Gaede whose previous intellectual apex was when she, "rode a horse through the streets of her hometown wearing nothing but a cowboy hat, boots, G-string, bunny tail, and a pair of bumper stickers slapped across her breasts as part of a contest at a local radio station."

Critics of this charming duo include 14 year old Sarah of Fresno who wrote this letter to the anti-Gaede twins site PrussianBlueSucks describing her, no doubt,traumatizing encounter with them. After several bouts of gut-wrenching laughter ...I am now well enough to post this hysterical letter in its entirety:



I know Lynx and Lamb. I was at the [NAME REDACTED] mall one day with my BFFs Kirsten and Jess and wer were just standing by Claire's waiting for Jess's ear to stop bleeding becuz she got another hole peirced (she has 14 holes in her left ear!) and this blond girl came up to us and asked us who we were. It was wierd becuz we didn't know her and she wanted top know who we were. So we told her and she told us her name was Lynx. And honestly I didn't laff. Honestly. But Kirsten kind of did. (Jess couldn't cuz she was kind of crying.) And she got a little mad but whatever. So she asked us if we went to school and we told her we did. She said she was homeschooled and Kirsten kind of laffed more becuz obvs homeschooled kids are total freakes. I just stood there and didnt do anything really. Oh, Lynx looked like a milkmaid. It was wierd. Anyway she said she was new in [NAME REDACTED] and she was looking for freinds which was wired becuz you don't really look for freinds, you just mnake them, you know? Anyway so that was wreid. (And Jess's ear was really bleeding at this point. She went ot the bathroom I think.) BUt we we like whatever. So we just staired at each other for awhile. Then another Lynx walked up to us but she said her name was Lamb. At this point Kirsten completly lost it and ran away. So I was standing there by myself with these two girls who looked like milkmaids looking at me with thier creepy blue eyes. TOTALLY creepy. IT was so deirw. Lamb said I was pretty and they were new in [NAME REDACTED] and they were just in the mall and whatever. She seemed more normal even tho her name was Lamb. Then Lynx was like I told them that already and got all crazy. I was like Lynx is TOTALLY the cunty one becuz with twins theres always a nice one and always a cunty one. I didnt' say that but that's what I thought,. Then Lynx asked me if had any black freinds. So I said yes becuz I'm totally in the drama club with An'gell. So Lynx spat on me and Lamb kicked me in the shin and they walked away. And I was just standing there. Kirsten wasn't around and JEss was still iun the bathroom. THEN, they turned around and called me n-lover, if you know what I mean. I can't write it becuz it's too awful. So I screamed milkmaid ho's at them, but they just walked away. So thats how I knew they were little racist bitches. I'm glad I know becuz if I ever see them again or in concert, I'll totally throw crap at them. Like bottles or something.

Love,
Sarah

Whew...good stuff. I can't wait to see the bizarre site traffic I'll get now.

Coming up: The Real Me. Or IS it? Yes it is. ...Really?

A series of quizzes from blogthings.com... I had a good laugh over these...

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

Your Inner Child Is Surprised

You see many things through the eyes of a child. Meaning, you're rarely cynical or jaded. You cherish all of the details in life. Easily fascinated, you enjoy experiencing new things.

How Is Your Inner Child?

Your Brain's Pattern

Your brain is always looking for the connections in life. You always amaze your friends by figuring out things first. You're also good at connecting people - and often play match maker. You see the world in fluid, flexible terms. Nothing is black or white.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Your Sexy Brazilian Name is:

Taraija Peixe

What's Your Sexy Brazilian Name?

Your EQ is

140 50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Do you want a "sexual compliment"? I sure do!

So, with the advent of cqcounter.com, poor humble bloggers such as myself can not only keep track of how many stalkers cough, excuse me, people are checking their site, but also their location, what they typed into the search engine, how many times they refresh the page….and other equally creepy factoids.

What have I learned since I first registered with cqcounter?

1. Avid readers of my blog reside primarily in the Bible Belt. Yee-haw.


2. There are people out there with less of a life than me. Someone call Ripley’s.


3. Most visitors, sadly, only happen to stumble onto my site, when searching for porn. Yes. It’s true, my blog is the gateway to all kinds of lewd and inappropriate material. Example: A recent visitor apparently typed into the MSN search engine “sexual compliment,”  and page 87 of Search Results brought him to an ancient rant I penned entitled “Sexual Harassment Compliments of Port Authority” (read all about it, here)
   
   I'd like to take this time to sincerely apologize to this man... for not really providing him with the kind of reading material he was seeking, while simultaneously commending him on his investigative efforts.
   
   Quote of the Day:
   
   Tom Tucker: "Because of an accident today at the Quahog cable company, all television transmission will be out for an undetermined amount of time. Of course, no one
   can see this news program, so it doesn't really matter
   what we say. I'm the Lord Jesus Christ. I think I'll
   go get drunk and beat up some midgets, how about you,
   Diane?"
   
   Diane Simmons:"Well, Tom, I just plain don't like black people."
   
   Camera man: "Hey guys, we're still on in Boston."
   
   -- Family Guy

Life update!

This was really going to be a quick "I'm not wallowing in self-pity anymore thanks to a much needed intervention" post, but ehh...I'll indulge in a little rambling. So..uh...what's up with blogspot not allowing for the option to write in color anymore? That's lame, huh?...
Alright this isn't working, I simply can't do a long meaningful entry right now. It's time for another summary of life in bullet points (extremely long bullet points.)

- I've got 5 months left before I can (barring another bizarre ill-timed scheduling fiasco compliments of Bio Advising (rant to be found here) leave this wretched institute of higher learning. I appear to have a more severe form of senioritis than most, manifesting itself in the following ways;
1) a general disregard for my classes: This includes the daily morning ritual of convincing myself not to sleep through my 11 am class (having exhausted the allowed number of absences), a cursory glance at the requisite reading is the extent of studying involved for weekly Spanish quizzes, and arriving at the disturbing conclusion that listening to latin hip-hop and watching the giant throbbing bulge in Bledsoe's forehead are the only things keeping me semi-conscious in Vert. Morph.
2) Sweatpants are appropriate attire for any occasion damnit.
3) Subsisting off Rice-a-Roni and (when I feel adventurous) vegetables.
4) Attempting to extend my facebook profile with more meaningless personal information.
5) From the Cathedral, the gym is simply... way..way too far away.
6) Carefully scheduled "study" time usually involves futile attempts to memorize poorly translated songs in Spanish (cough "aqui no sera" cough)and multiple rounds of Gin Rummy with the roomates.
7) 2 hours of sleep? 20 hours of sleep? Doesn't matter. Still fucking tired.

- I've come to the realization that I'm atrocious at managing money. Hell, it's a miracle I'm ever able to pay rent on time.

- My undergraduate career reveals I have a personal vendetta against no less than 3 professors. The latest addition to THE LIST ("You BETTER run egg!" cough sorry) is my Pop. Bio professors...yes, plural. You see, someone came up with the brilliant idea to let this duo of inanity (tonsor and kalisz) teach together. They're married by the way, and although they spare us sickening displays of marital affection, they continue to plague the academic community with their ineffectual "teaching." Case in point: Allow me to walk you through a typical lecture.

If it's Kalisz teaching, please kindly take a nail gun and apply it directly to your temple, as it is truly the equivalent of hearing her confuse the living daylights of out of herself, and consequently us. During the next 75 minutes, the classroom is quickly transformed into a "Logic Free" zone, where I usually expect to wake up mid-nap to hear Kalisz say "And that, class, is why 2+2 is equal to -13. Questions? What? I don't know." Sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly masochistic I'll serve as the lone dissenting voice shouting "For the love of god, shut your pie hole and just email us the goddamn notes!" which undoubtedly welcomes the violent backlash of the mindless drones in the front row who are completely incapable of independent thought.

Her husband Tonsor, though less annoying, is known to emphasize certain obvious concepts by leaping onto the main table and yelling "SEE!" while waving his pointer stick in the air. Yep.

- A career related mental crisis appears to rear it's ugly head every few days... sometimes I flirt with the idea of screwing over law school to be a writer (although, penning salacious articles with titles like "Crack den hooker double homicide!" aren't exactly going to invite accolades. Oh well.), or travelling around the world for an unspecified amount of time. I already know I can live off exactly 8 bucks a day in Nicaragua. Alright maybe I should've just included this in the "Senioritis" section because clearly I'm a lazy bastard and this year is dragging by. I can't seem to muster the energy to study another term, annotate one more essay, fill in one more goddamn bubble on a scantron sheet, or drown myself in coffee in preparation for another round of midterms.

- My wage slavery at the Nationality Rooms ended as I quit last friday. That's right. It was pretty unsatisfying and not at all the way I would've done it under normal circumstances. I got laryngitis (something to add to the litany of afflictions suffered this year alone) and my "I quit" was whispered rather than spit out with fury and conviction.

- There appears to be a rent dispute brewing at the apartment. Everyone please welcome the start of lame house meetings! It should be noted that by the end of last year... my minimum requirements for roomates were basically people who wouldn't chainsaw my face off or resort to passive aggressive ways of striking out whenever a conflict arose. With that being said, I anticipated a relatively harmonious living situation. Ah...two months later, I stand corrected. I hope everything gets worked out... but for now, I think it's safe to say there will be no mushy heart-to-heart's over warm cocoa.

-On a positive note, last night I met and shook hands with Paul freaking Rusesabagina (more info about his story)himself! He spoke at length about his experiences, and offered some sharp criticism of the U.N. Amnesty people randomly were given "VIP" status, so we got into the catered reception for free. There was this force-field of about a 100 people surrounding Paul virtually the entire evening, and I desperately wanted a picture with him (for the sake of the club..of course..ahem.) After an hour had passed, with no perceivable change in the throng, I was close to grabbing the nearest dull kitchen utensil and advancing in a menacing fashion. Thankfully, Paul obliged my requests, and the Amnesty banner got signed and we all got a picture with him. What a guy. I was sure he'd been permanently blinded by all the flash photography during his speech...


Quote of the Day:

Gob: "I was halfway to South America, but I couldn't let you get away with it, because we're brothers, Mom, and we kind of like each other."
Michael Bluth: "You were going to South America?"
Gob: "I don't think so.'
-- Arrested Development