Greaseball When you don't have a job and don't have to go to school and don't have anything to do, nothing beats slathing on the tanning oil and laying outside for a few quality sunning hours.
Tanning is my favorite thing about summer. Who cares if I will look like a whithered little leatherized raison by the time I am 50, I look good now. I live in the now, afterall, and now I am tan. Summer is not the time to worry about a silly little thing like skin cancer...it is the time to spend some quality time with some UV rays.
The unfortunate thing about being a tanning oil user (SPF 4 to make me feel a little better) is that bugs seem to be attracted to it. Not that I am anti-bug, but I am a firm believer in the theory that I have my space and they should stay out of it.
I am not much of an outdoor girl.
I feel kind of greasy now, and I look real cute I am sure, what with the oil I got in my hair and the little bug particles stuck to me. I am greasy and spotted. I think I need a shower.
But hey, I got some color, which is the good part.
Quote of the Day: "Why don't you just spray on Wesson cooking oil and be done with it?" - Mom
I think that quite possibly the worst thing about college is the freshman 15. The WORST thing. But really, it's awful! It sneaks up on you and, after two fun semesters of too much beer and late-night binges of Pokey Sticks, smacks you in the ass...hard. All of a sudden your jeans don't fit and you realize that new swimsuit you bought really isn't as cute as you thought.
This sucks. I had so much fun, but now I am fat.
So now the workout proccess begins. Did TaeBo yesterday, now in pain. Had yogurt for breakfast. filling (not really).
Speaking of yogurt, when did I suddenly start liking it again? I had mono in the eigth grade, and it was the only thing I could eat without yakking for 3 weeks. Something like that has a tendency to kill a taste for something. Yet, now, I am loving strawberry fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt. Creamy low-fatty yummy healthy goodness.
Memorial Day Weekend is a time for looking back and reflecting on all of the brave men and women who have sacrifice their lives for this great country. And the stores capitolize in this sense of patriotism to have huge sales that draw crowds.
I spent the weekend at the Lake of the Ozarks, a wonderful ways to kick off then summer. And I am telling you, I didn't mind cold and rainy weather on Saturday because I got to spend the day at the outlet mall. Great deals, cute purse. Oh how happy I was. And I even got the boyfriend to go shopping with me, a minor miracle.
In exchange for a day at the mall, I had to ride a jetski with him the next day. Now, from a distance, riding a jet ski looks fun, bouncy, light. But when you are actually on the back of one, you will realize that it is rough and tumble, and hard to stay on. So there I am with a death grip on Mike, hitting every single wave and wake on the whole damn lake. As tossed around and violated as I felt after awhile, I still thought it would be fun to drive. Switcheroo and Meagan is in contol. I guess Mikey couldn't handle it. After a few minutes, all of a sudden the back of the SeaDoo felt much lighter. Yeah, he fell off.
I guess I wear the pants in the Sea Doo part of our relationship.
As a college student, I don't think that going to bed at 3 am and waking up at noon is at all unusual. I do think it is weird to go to sleep at 9 pm and wake up at 5. There is no reason to wake up before the sun is fully high in the sky. Why would anyone want to get up that early? Trading Spaces isn't on until 3 anyway.
My parents, as old people, do not agree with me. Early to bed, early to rise, and all of that usual parent blah blah blah. Yeah, they don't like my hours too much. Well, their hours suck.
I hate Pershing Group I hate the dorms and I hate the people who work at the damn dorm desks.
Everyone has now moved out of the dorm and I am left to fend for myself. I get out of this dorm-shaped, Pepto Bismol-colored hell hole tomorrow at 10 am. Thank God. My real roommate moved out on Wednesday, and good old 130 Graham Hall has been a quiet place since then, especially since she took the phone and the fridge with her. So I thought that I would have to room to myself for a few days to pack and randomly amuse myself and then tear the shit apart come Monday and go back home. Oh how naive of me.
After a long day of working at the Big 12 Conference track meet, hosted by the lovely University of Missouri on this fine fine weekend, I come home with the plan to chill on the lawn for awhile, then take a shower catch up on my Cosmo and get to sleep at a decent hour. Tthe tanning was accomplished, but little else. This is because a random girl showed up at my door saying that she was staying here. Oh how nice. Random Girl does not speak much English and smells strongly of B.O. and onions. Random Girl proceeds to move into my room. Meagan is not so much a happy camper.
Meagan goes to the desk to inquire about Random Girl. The asshats at the Pershing Group front desk, which manages my lovely shithole, told me that they didn't think it would be a problem. Despite the fact that I had requested no roommate for the interim stay period in which I would be occupying this room, they just put the stinker in there anyway. I guess they thought Random Girl would get lonely in one of the million other empty rooms on my floor (because yes, I am one of 3 people still here) I wish I had brought a spoon down to them so they could have eaten my ass.
I should have realized how evil these people were when 1. they painted my room this lovely ABC gum pink, 2. when they kicked one of the Second Floor Boys out of the dorm for teasing the RA, or 3. when they wouldn't deliver my subscription to Glamour because it was too big for the mailbox. Those bastards.
So my mom is still coming at 10 tomorrow, after which we will be moving out my excessive crap, tearing down my loft bed, pulling up my carpet, putting the crappy dorm bed back together, checking my happy ass out, and leaving. This will require Random Stinky Girl to be awake and out of bed because to get to my loft, her bed will have to be manuvered out of the corner. Well, she will have to deal. I want to get out.
I have some choice words for the Pershing desk workers. Several of them rhyme with "buck."
Quote of the Day: "I didn't think it would be a big deal to put her with you. She's kind of shy. Thanks for being so understanding!" -- Pershing Desk Asshat
now that finals are finally over (and i don't think i bombed them too badly) it is time to pack up and get the hell out of here. goodbye lovely co mo, i will miss you so! at least, that is, until i come back for summer school in 3 weeks.
so now i have to pack. in the process of doing so, i have come to the conclusion that i have way too much stuff and this is completely ridiculous. i own the crap equivilant to that of a normal family of four. how did i fit it all in one room? i am amazed.
and i know that everyone else is beginning to realize the same thing around here. there is an industrial-sized dumpster roughly the size of a small house sitting outside behind the dorm. now that it has been here for 3 whole days, that mother is full as hell and overflowing. we're talking gross carpet, loft beds, sacks and sacks of useless junk. i think there's a couch in there too. i don't know where college kids find this stuff, but over the course of a year, you will find the strangest things shoved into random dark corners of your dorm room. i have been organizing and packing for 2 days, and i have filled three huge trash bags. but there is more...its everywhere. i am never going to get all of this stuff out of here.
but you know, the worst part about the end of the year is not the finals or the move-out, it's the book buy-back. the fact that they even can call it a "buy-back" is unjustifiable. so you spend hundreds on books at the beginning of the semester, used them once or twice, don't even unwrap some of them, and then parade your happy ass down to the book store to sell them back. if you're lucky and they even take all of the books, you might get a fourth of what you spent. maybe. i got back $60 on $400 worth of books. girl down the hall traded her $350 worth in for a whopping $3. wow! that is so enough to buy books next time! yeah right.
the funny part is watching the faces of the people in line waiting to sell. they stand there with armloads of texts that some never opened with these hopeful little faces. then they get up to the counter and the evil people with scanners dash their hopes, the bastards. then the kids will walk away all disgruntled and pissy, and will bitch about the injustice of the whole system over beers that night. its a favorite topic of many, the routine raping of students with a roll of their own money every semester. those bastards.
oh joy oh rapture. it is time for all the little children at the university of missouri to knuckle down and hit the books. for some, this will be relatively unpainful, being that they attended class, took extensive notes, have colorcoded highlighters and notecards, and have been preparing for weeks for these tests to end all tests. but for the other 34,999 students on this campus, this weekend is panic time. these are the last few days before finals week, days where that beautiful semi-annual ritual of cramming an entire semester's worth of knowledge into a single weekend in order to be able to regurgitate it back to a nazi-esque professor come monday is performed by countless students. entire textbooks must be read, weeks of notes must be obtained and copied, packs of notecards must be filled out and flipped through....all in 48 hours.
it's no wonder that people start to go a little crazy. that is why regualr study breaks are very very important to the health and welfare of college students everywhere. don't get mad because your roommate only has to skim the notes for his or her single final. don't be bitter because you have 4 exams that have left you half blind and over-caffeinated. take a break! run around, get food, pack up your room! take these fine upstanding examples from the gentlemen of second floor graham hall: two are jousting at one end of the hallway with torn down pieces of loft beds in aluminum foil suits of armor, much to the amusement of a crowd of cheering onlookers who have dragged 3 sofas and a futon outside for viewing comfort. the girlfriends of neighbors down the hall are organizing the clothes in their significant others closets....by clor, brand, season, and style. another group has run upstairs to see if they can pitch bags of trash into the dumpster without hitting any cars or onlookers. a solitary fellow is looking at porn sites for his "human sexuality paper." cartwheel contests, waterballoon sling shots, quick games of chubby bunny or sardines. these are not "goofing off" or "procrastinating." these are intelligent children assuring that their brain cells, the ones they haven't been killing slowly with alcohol all year, will not just give up and bite it at 3 am the day before the microeconomics test. these kids are not slackers, they are role models.
you know you've hit a low point when you would rather go buy new underwear than do laundry. but then you realize you can't afford new underwear so you have to do your laundry anyway. laundry is not fun, and an endless, time consuming cycle. the only fun part is wearing the clothes and getting them dirty in the first place. but all the enjoyment is sucked out by the thought of cleaning them. its enough to make a person want to run around naked.
laundry is a pain in and of itself. it starts by cleaning the dorm room to find all the clothes scattered every which way, and then conducting the favorite of college students everywhere, the smell test. if good, then it gets tossed in the general direction of the closet. if bad, the direction of the laundry basket (which in my case is the same direction, meaning most everything gets cleaned anyway). then, said dirty stinky clothing is shoved into the laundry basket, with grunting and swearing. then you must go find enough quarters to clean the five or six loads of clothes you have accumulated since the last time you cleaned your clothes, aka when you went home and your mom did it for you. this can be a challege, but it is worth it in the end.
once the quarters are accumulated, the bulging and heavy basket must be hauled down to the laundry room, which is a hot little room smelling like dryer sheets and wet socks. if you are lucky enough to find empty washer on the first attempt, then you have to sort the dirties. there are several ways to do this; you could be a traditionalist and go lights and darks, an extremist and sort by exact color, ie a blue washer, white washer, black washer, etc..., you could be a moderate and have a white only, middle, and dark, or you could just be lazy and shove every article of clothing you own into a single machine and hope to god there is enough room for the water. close the lid, pop in the money, and 25 minutes later you've got a big pile of wet stuff. for girls, this stage means the nondryer sort, in which all the little tops and pants that will shrink to nothingness if machine dried get pulled out and set aside. this is later strewn everywhere across the room in hopes for something of a breeze to dry it within the next week and a half.
but meanwhile, the drying phase has been reached. it is important to understand that while tempting, all of the clothes in a single dryer will not actual get anything dry. so you must pay for at least two machines, i'm very sorry, thats just physics. this can be a semi-fun stage, that is, if you enjoy watching your clothes flop around in little circles while yelling "hey undies!" at the top of your lungs everytime you spot a pair. this game is not for everyone, should only be played when alone or in the company or people who know how weird you are.
the dryer seems to run forever, but its worthwhile for the warm toasty goodness of the fresh clean laundry that comes out in the end. ahh yes...folding. be careful not to crease the jeans or wrinkle the tshirts, we wouldn't want you to look mussed when you go to wear these things. then again, its easier to just cram everything back into the basket and forget about it for 3 days, during which you are constantly digging through to find clean tshirts or a matching pair of socks. eventually, you will have to put the clothes away. otherwise you won't have anywhere to put the dirty clothes that are starting to pile up in your room.
congratulations! you've just done your laundry! mom would be so proud.
and so portfolio has been turned in with a huge sigh of relief. my fate is now in the hands of the review panel of environmental sciences. (and if any of them are reading this, what lovely hands they are. wow you look great, do you moisturize?) it was a little hard to let go of, like it was my own child or something. i was up until 3:30 this morning working on stuff, then awake at 8 to finish. got everything matted, pasted, labeled, and organized by 10:15, and turned that bad boy in. i got a little choked up. well not really. i am glas to have it done, but now finals are looming down on me. and being the extremely intelligent girl that i am, class hasn't really been a priority. oops.
but before i think about how much i will fail my art history final, i am going to pass out. nothing solves problems like a deep coma.
i just love the smell of wet denim in the morning. welcome to monsoon season in mid-missouri. it opened up and poured in the middle of my drawing class this morning. and little me without an umbrella. still pouring when it was time to go to anthropology. in the time it took to walk from the fine arts building to middlebush auditorium, which are right next to each other, i got completely drenched.
i hate rain. i mean, its fine to sit inside and sleep through it, but not to walk to class in. because i am a total genius, i also wore flip flops today...big mistake. when you fall on your butt on the steps in front of a large lecture hall on a busy campus street, you soon find out who your friends are. they are not the ones helping you up and asking if you are alright. they are the ones pointing and laughing at the big wet spot on your jeans. and the ones who make fun of you about for 3 hours afterwards. and the ones who announce what happened, in horrible play-by-play detail complete with pantomine and sound effects, to every other person they run into on the way back to the dormor frat house.
but the worst thing about rainy days is the worms. the entire worm population of columbia was on the sidewalk outside my dorm this morning. all squidgey and slimy and gross. i hate those squirmy little bastards. i was flailing and squealing and running like a total spaz. i must have looked like an idiot, but hey, i had already fallen down, so what did i have to lose? it was a total girl moment, complete with the girly squealing and flailing. a big girly seizure. i blame the worms. really, they are the ones at fault here. i am not to blame for their ickiness. they are just yucky.
i swear, everytime i go to the sorority house i hear little cha-ching noises when i walk through the door. whoever called us visa visa mastercard wasn't kidding. here's what i have to get for fall recruitment:black shorts, black platform flip flops, formal black shoes, white mini skirt, white platform flipflops, blue polo, nude thong, black dress. and this is just for one week. but hey, thats the price i pay for great friends (right blair?)
i am just thankful that i am really really spoiled and mommy and daddy are paying for all of it. she even is the one that suggested the new black shoes. nice. that means i get to go shopping online, and that is my favorite thing. if there was an event at the olympics for internet shopping, i would bring home the gold, world class. i am just that good.
woke up this morning, wonderfully not hungover. talked to marcy, who i went to the party with last night, i guess she was on a lot of hurt this morning. but she was even more intoxicated than i was, even if i was almost blind. she was knocking back kamikazi shots like they were going out of style. but good for the guys who walked her back to the dorm instead of taking advantage of her. its good to know not all frat boys are big jerks like we expect them to be. we think they are such asshats, but not all of them fulfill the expectation. except of course, annoying scotty. he insisted all night that we would at one point make out. hmm, thats a negative, buddy. but i did let him keep buying me beers. how nice of him. all in all though, it was a good showing for my last party weekend of my freshman year.
been getting busy with the art projects. reworked my value still life and did the diagramming for the 2d design final project. thats one down and three to go on the 4 piece project...but now i have to paint. blech. i don't mind painting usually, but we have to make an exact copy of a masters work, just like in the eighth grade. that class is so annoying and i really dislike the instructor. not only does he have a hockey player mullet, but he also speaks in a total monotone and says mmmkay a lot. i miss my cool, hip art teachers from high school. huff reallywas the best teacher, and her classes were never this aggrivating. we never had to do stupid projects like this. we did cool stuff like stained glass, beadmaking, installation mosaics, painted chairs, printmaking, silk painting, and glass fusing. but i take comfort in the fact that i only have 2 more classes with the dorko and the semester will be over!
ok so i'm drunk...but it is a beautiful thing. the best part. and you know what? 24 hour subway is wonderful. the people who work there have to love the kids like me coming home with drunk munchies looking for a fix. yummmmm....it tastes so good, even if you are wasted. this is drunk me ordering:
subway dude: what can i get you?
subway dude: on what?
subway dude (while laughing at the drunkass): anything else
subway dude: gotcha.
you think of the strangest things after 11 beers. for example, upstairs matt has a mullet, though he won't admit it. he is in mullet denial.