I May Have Shattered Glass In My Foot

Usually when I sit down to write a blog post, I have something specific in mind.

Yeah, bet you didn't know that, did you. Well just shut your sassy mouth. Because I do.

Tonight I just felt like this night / this week / this past month and half has been too weird not to be shared (I may have taken a subconscious cue from the Bloggess).

Just the other day my friend and I were talking about the fact that people we know now for all of their quirks and oddities seem completely different from the people that we met during those first few weeks of school, though they are in fact all one and the same.

I, for one, never would have guessed after that first weekend out to dinner that my floor would end up being this fucking strange.

But they are.

And it's great.

Some people seemed sort of intimidating and now I realize that they're just goofy little children (Nemo...) and others seemed so mature and above my level of humor when I now realize that they too are, well, goofy little children.

Seems to be a trend around here.

My roommate and I enjoy baking, and it's pretty much a Saturday trend for us now, which is great for the rest of our floor because, well, they're boys. And they eat. A lot. And when I keep my door open, not only can they eat a lot, but they can eat any time they want.

Sitting on my bed, talking to my mom on the phone, somebody scooters into my kitchen (yeah, that's a commonplace verb around here), takes a cookie, says "see you around!" and proceeds to scooter around the floor in circles for the next ten minutes. Normal.

They're having some recruits staying with them again this weekend, and the first question I get is "will you make them something good?"

Lucky for you, we're making cupcakes.

You're welcome.

Anyway, I am eventually getting to the shatter-glass-in-the-foot thing.

Tonight my roomies and I were just watching movies after creating my fifth social media account (why do I do this... I don't even have friends) while the wind was valiantly attempting to tear down the building. Like, since when did we live in Wyoming. Anyway.

A couple of the guys decided that what better place to do video chat roulette with total strangers than on Sydney's bed, so that became part of our night as well.

May I just add, while we're on the topic, that the boys on our floor talk so loud. It's like they're afraid that if they don't yell, their voice won't actually carry through the microphone to the people they're trying to talk to.

Just add a few decibels, Jacques. You won't even need a microphone any more for that person in Brazil to hear you.

So we're watching a movie, they're screaming at some poor soul over the internet, and the wind is pretending it's a tornado.

Which I didn't think it was, but apparently it succeeded momentarily because next thing we knew, there was the sound of shit falling and glass shattering coming from our kitchen.

It managed to blow open the windows that we didn't think to lock (since when did you need to lock windows?) and push our dish drying rack onto the floor, shattering the one glass that was in there all over our kitchen.

Mind you, not much of a feat seeing as how our kitchen is about the size of a couple tables and that's it, but still.

We swept it up but let's be real, we were distracted by Jacques obsession with letting the wind blow up his shirt and Andrew's obsession with taking off Jacques' pants.

(Really guys?)

((Nice boxers, Jacques.))

I just went into the kitchen a couple minutes ago to get water (homework makes me thirsty) and of course, being me, did I wear shoes?

Nooooope.

I think I may have glass in my foot.

Builds character.