Now that I have your attention (and have probably confused you) I will take this chance to say that I was going to blog about the Oscars, but I'm not, so you're welcome.
Instead I will blog about things that suck.
Like that intro.
And particularly those things that happen all the time and are completely unavoidable, because they really happen through no fault of your own, but they are awfully awkward nonetheless and must be endured on a daily (or at least biweekly) basis.
Number one:
Sniffling.
It's winter, you just had to walk across campus at an alarming rate to make it to your next class, and the cold air has made it so that your nose is not only numb, but also running. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
You get to class, sit in the middle of a bunch of quiet people, and ineffectively sniffle for the next ten to fifteen minutes, depending on how much your body hates you that day. Because no matter how much you sniffle, it doesn't help. The sniffles have decided that they want to stay, and until your body magically makes them poof disappear when you stop paying attention, you will forever be that annoying kid sitting in a quiet lecture hall, sniffling every thirty seconds.
You feel bad, but you can't stop it. The tiny gnomes who live in your nose (I know, worst job ever) are intentionally leaving the faucet on in there (probably as payback for having the shittiest job ever) and no matter how valiantly you sniffle, it's ultimately up to them as to when things will dry up in there.
Now that I've left you with that charming mental image, we'll move on to number two:
"What's up?"
The question that everyone asks when they walk past somebody that they know on campus, because what else are you supposed to do? You could just say "hey," but that is a cursed greeting. Never have I heard someone casually greet another with no others words than "hey" and sound anything but insincere. Voice pitch changes and gets higher and sweeter, the look on your face turns to that of a kicked puppy, and the "hey" comes out as more of a "We never talk anymore what's happened to us we used to talk I wish this wasn't the only thing I had to say to you hey."
It's sickeningly sweet. And no, I'm not over-generalizing. I never do that.
If you follow the "hey" with a "what's up," your voice will become your own again. But there's a minor problem.
Nobody actually cares what's up.
Same with "how are you?" Ask either of these questions and prepare to hear a pre-programmed response that just comes out like a reflex: "Not much. I'm good."
Because who wants to hear "I'm doing all right, but I twisted my knee twerking in my room and I got so distracted that I couldn't eat a proper dinner, so now I'm kind of hungry and really wish that I could just order a quesadilla for delivery because I don't know how to make one and we're out of ramen."
Okay, I would like to hear that. I could make fun of that person forever.
Point is, you have to ask it to avoid awkwardness, but the fact that nobody really gives a fuck what your answer is makes it even more awkward. Unavoidable, I'm telling you.
That's why I'm starting a movement to make "'sup" an acceptable thing for white girls to say. It's both a greeting and a question, but nobody expects an answer. Bam. problem solved.
This is getting too long already. I have eight more things. I'll hurry up, I promise.
Number three:
When somebody you know is walking the same direction as you and ends up walking even with you, so you have no choice but to talk to them until one of you reaches your destination even if you don't like them at all and have nothing to say to them but can't really just ignore them.
Enough said. Moving on. Number four:
Elevator rides.
There is literally no way to make an elevator ride with strangers not awkward.
You're in a tiny, enclosed box with shiny walls. If you look at the wall, it looks like you're trying to stare at their reflection. If you look at the floor, you look like you probably need some therapy to deal with that crippling shyness you suffer from. If you look at them or try to talk to them... well that's just weird, and you should probably stop.
I've noticed that almost everybody takes out their cell phones within seconds of the doors closing. And I don't blame them. Because even if you have nothing to do on it, you can always check the weather or look at the instagram pictures that you've already seen the other two times you were in the elevator today.
Or you could make small talk about the weather, like the boy in the rangers hat, and then forget to press the button for my floor so I awkwardly end up two floors higher with my laundry basket in my hands and a lounge full of people staring at me.
Soooo yep. Number five:
The abominable noise that your jaw makes when chewing chips.
There's definitely a reason the English call them crisps. They're loud as fuck and yet so delicious.
That doesn't actually explain why they're called crisps... I don't know. Whatever. They're deafening.
Most of the time, chips are eaten in a social setting: at parties, during movies, during meals (duh), doing homework, you name it. And because the setting is one with food, people are usually too busy stuffing their faces to really make much noise talking. So everyone can hear you chew.
I have the same problem with bagels. I blame my dad for the noisy jaw genes. Thanks, Dad. And I'm sorry, everyone else. I can't help it.
Another noise that is entirely too annoying and only makes itself heard when around other people, number six:
Squeaky shoes.
Not many shoes have this problem, and most of the are flip flops which are noisy anyway so nobody really notices when a squeak is added to the FLIP. FLOP. FLIP. FLOP. SCUFF (as you trip yourself) FLIP. FLOP.
But when they do? Oh. Man.
I have one pair of Vans that's just old enough that they feel broken in, but not yet quite old enough, because they sound like I have a pair of mice taped to my feet every time I take a step. It's not really noticeable outside, but I just know that the R.A.'s judge me the whole silent 100 feet from the front door of the lobby to the doors of the elevators.
Although I do act like a 5-year old sometimes, so I guess the squeaky shoes fit the bill.
Because I'm great at transitioning, here's the entirely unrelated number seven:
Facebook birthdays.
I did a big, brave thing today: I wished two people happy birthday on Facebook. Two people!
And this is a big deal for me because terrible as it may be, I am in the habit of never wishing anybody a happy birthday on Facebook, because then everybody knows that I wished that person a happy birthday and wonders what they didn't wrong when I don't post some generic "aaaay happy birthday" on their wall.
(Okay, I know that's a lie. I bet nobody actually cares if I posted on their wall or not. Whatever. Humor me.)
Plus, half of the people that wish their Facebook friends happy birthday don't really give a damn and only do it because their Facebook sidebar tells them to.
"happy birthday" is not a real well-wish, just so you all know.
If you post that on my wall for my birthday we're not friends any more.
And if you don't post anything I'll cry myself to sleep wondering what I did wrong, softly sobbing whyyyy...yyyy...yyyyyyy.....
And then I will unfriend you. Unless number eight:
I can't because you like me more than I like you and I know that you'll notice and just re-add me later.
I'm probably a bad person for writing about cruel things that I do on Facebook and then posting the link to my blog on Facebook, but as you're all Facebook users yourselves you'll know what I'm saying when I say that there are some people who you really don't care about, so much that you've even blocked them from your news feed, but you just. can't. delete them.
I think that's really all I need to say here. If I start providing examples I'll really get myself into trouble.
So here we are, for the three of you still reading at this point: the final unavoidable conundrum that sucks quite a bit and I probably should have put earlier because the people who have stopped reading by now would probably have agreed with me:
Number ten: Not being able to shut the fuck up.
There's word vomit, and there's nervous talking, and then there are times when you know that the people you're talking to don't care and you don't really want to keep talking but for some reason, you do. I just have so much to say.
Except the part that sucks is that none of what you're saying actually matters, and nobody cares, and even you don't care, and yet you just can't bring yourself to stop. Such as this blog post, that probably should have ended a long time ago but for some reason my fingers just keep typing.
One of these days college will teach me how to shut the fuck up.
But for now, it's just teaching me how to make things longer.
And aren't I good at it.
As a nice little update, wanna know what else I'm good at? Counting. There are only nine things on here. I won't tell if you won't.
