the morning-after conversation (reprise)

This morning, I woke up with the worst kind of hangover--the kind where you still feel the wine running through your veins. I asked my roommate what happened last night. Our conversation went like this:

Me: What happened last night?
Her: You had a few drinks and did nothing embarrassing whatsoever. You acted with complete dignity and self-respect.
Me: Oh great.
Her: There was that one thing, though...
Me: What?
Her: You did hug all of your friends and tell them that you loved them.
Me: Oh that's nice!

Except imagine the total opposite of that conversation.

it's personal

A lot of people ask me why I don't write personal things in here.

Because it's personal.

Duh.

(maybe i'll try to be more personal in the future)

puppy snores

There is a floppy puppy passed out against my leg that is snoring louder than a volcano. I don't blame him--he's had a rough day, after all, what with pooping twice on our rug, pissing in the kitchen, chewing up my roommate's flipflops (shredding is actually more apt than chewing), and humping the leg of one of our guests for a long time.

cranky

I'm having a really cranky day, induced by sugar/flour withdrawal, continued inability to fit into clothes, really wet feet from the slush storm, impending conference insanity, and the fact that I keep missing classes. That means my head is racing with rash thoughts. For example, I finally dragged myself to Anal Meth 40 minutes late only to find some douchebag in my seat. Totally understandable, I guess, since it's empty half the time. But how do I really feel? I would like to strangle his scrawny little seat-stealing neck until his face explodes, all the while screaming, "THERE IS A FUCKING SEATING CHART, YOU SHITFACE, GET OUT OF MY CHAIR."

Maybe don't talk to me today. :D

scarface

If anyone asks about the cut on my face, I got in a huge barfight with a 300 pound Amazon at the People's Republic because she told me I threw darts like a pre-pubescent boy. I did not, for the record, skid on an icy cobblestone sidewalk in 4 inch red heels and scrape my face on the ground.

knowing when to lose

Seriously, I'm no football fan (I have only recently been forced to understand the game a little more because people like my amazing TV and watch games in HD here; also because I watch Friday Night Lights and want to marry Matt Saracen, in spite of the slightly pedophilic implications of this), but the Colts should not have won. Simply because who cares about Indiana--who is even from there? I think I know one person from there, and I don't even remember who that person is, so it doesn't even count!

When you're the team for a state that no one cares about (and is Republican for that matter), you should just lose. On principal.

favorite headline of the day

For all my ranting, sometimes I truly love CNN.com for being able to come up with headlines like:

Phone in her throat, boyfriend may get cell time

Such wit, such ingenious punning!

The best part of the story is the part where the guy says that he didn't do it, that she tried to swallow her phone to stop him from seeing who she was talking to. Totally plausible. It occurs to me to try to swallow my phone all the time. In fact, I'm going to go try to do that right now.

friday night visits

What I love best about Friday Night Lights is that no one has heard of a phone, email, IM, or facebook. If Jason Street has to talk to Coach, he shows up at his door at 11 pm. No one thinks it's creepy--there is no other way to interact in this universe!

Of course, the practical explanation is that non-face-to-face interactions make for shitty TV.

I guess what's even funnier than Friday Night Lights having only face-to-face interactions is that in real life, the face-to-face interaction is becoming practically non-existent.

de ja vu

When we walked into the hotel ballroom, Justin Timberlake was playing in the background as hundreds of students dressed up in their finest (dresses and suits and all) milled around, dancing and talking. Meanwhile a slideshow of pictures from our first year and half was projected against a wall behind us.

Wait, I swear, I have been here before.

brink of explosion

I just ate so much that my stomach may actually explode. EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE.