And tonight on Disney channel (and by Disney channel I mean some other channel where inappropriate jokes and swearing are allowed) we bring you a new show...
That's So College!
(I sincerely hope you sang that and then snapped your fingers and made some sassy black girl head movement. That's not racist, it's just Raven.)
The gist of the show is that a lot of things get said that, out of context, really don't make much sense, and in context, don't make sense either! It's great!
We get to do great things like ask Sydney to never say "vom" ever again, and then spend the next five minutes getting a seemingly never-ending string of texts from her just saying "vom vom vom vom vom" until you think you actually may drive to Evergreen and break her phone.
Hear that, Sydney?
Lucky for her, I don't have a car (...yet. Next time).
We also get to internet stalk hockey players, watch videos of their bad commercials that they probably wish nobody knew about, and google their faces on the computer instead of on Meghan's phone so she doesn't get embarrassed in the press box (which has never happened, I don't know what you're talking about).
Tonight's episode: In which a tin of cookies appears, we all move our chairs closer to the table on which they're sitting in order the optimize the cookie-to-mouth ratio, and I do yoga in the middle of the lounge.
And we watch the entirety of Robin Sparkles' video just so we can hear Canadians say "aboot."
You're welcome, fourth floor.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
I Just Wanted a Bite
In my room, we bake almost every weekend.
It's pretty much a ritual at this point. Tradition. Routine. Whatever you want to call it.
And we usually make super awesome things, like brownie cheesecake sundaes, or pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies, or chocolate cookies that needed cocoa powder but we didn't have any so we used hot chocolate mix instead, or other delicious baked goods that require sharing.
We make them (I make them (Meghan helps (Sydney watches))) and then we take them around the floor to anybody who's home and make them eat our delicious food or else.
Jokes, we don't have to force them to eat it. They usually just eat it without any encouragement at all. Like the time that the plate left our room with over three dozen cookies, and came back with five. Like that.
This morning I made Oreo brownie cupcakes. And yes, they are as good as they sound. They're so delicious, in fact, that I didn't want to take them anywhere, and instead merely texted the boys on our floor saying if they wanted one they had better come get it, because I sure as hell was not going to be bringing one to their door.
Logan came by twice, both times while I was on the phone with my mom (on separate occasions, incidentally), Jacques got one after we went skating, Kyle just somehow knew there were delicious things in my kitchen even though I don't have his number and showed up to get one. You know, the usual.
Then tonight, my suitemate walks into the kitchen and goes "...Emma? Did you take a few bites out of one of these?"
Umm... no. No I did not. But sure enough, there is a brownie cupcake in our kitchen with two bites out of the side of it... just sitting on the plate with all of the rest.
Boys. You are supposed to eat the whole cupcake.
Who does that? They're like children who don't know that this isn't actually their kitchen, and therefore they can't just leave their half eaten cupcake on a plate and come back for it later.
On the plus side, they loved them and they all said thank you.
At least their mothers taught them something.
It's pretty much a ritual at this point. Tradition. Routine. Whatever you want to call it.
And we usually make super awesome things, like brownie cheesecake sundaes, or pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies, or chocolate cookies that needed cocoa powder but we didn't have any so we used hot chocolate mix instead, or other delicious baked goods that require sharing.
We make them (I make them (Meghan helps (Sydney watches))) and then we take them around the floor to anybody who's home and make them eat our delicious food or else.
Jokes, we don't have to force them to eat it. They usually just eat it without any encouragement at all. Like the time that the plate left our room with over three dozen cookies, and came back with five. Like that.
This morning I made Oreo brownie cupcakes. And yes, they are as good as they sound. They're so delicious, in fact, that I didn't want to take them anywhere, and instead merely texted the boys on our floor saying if they wanted one they had better come get it, because I sure as hell was not going to be bringing one to their door.
Logan came by twice, both times while I was on the phone with my mom (on separate occasions, incidentally), Jacques got one after we went skating, Kyle just somehow knew there were delicious things in my kitchen even though I don't have his number and showed up to get one. You know, the usual.
Then tonight, my suitemate walks into the kitchen and goes "...Emma? Did you take a few bites out of one of these?"
Umm... no. No I did not. But sure enough, there is a brownie cupcake in our kitchen with two bites out of the side of it... just sitting on the plate with all of the rest.
Boys. You are supposed to eat the whole cupcake.
Who does that? They're like children who don't know that this isn't actually their kitchen, and therefore they can't just leave their half eaten cupcake on a plate and come back for it later.
On the plus side, they loved them and they all said thank you.
At least their mothers taught them something.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Moonlight Shadows
Kids these days
(we’re all kids these days)
don’t know how
to calm
down
child’s minds
two minutes at a time
(and then the next two, and the next
but never the six).
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Welcome to Your Stage
The trees dance on the other side of my window, the people swirl around the sidewalks and funnel into the fishbowl that is the green. They buzz up and down the barricaded streets, opinions flying around in the excitement, until they all end up spectators to history while I sit with my guitar, in the eye of the storm, hearing only the moaning of the buildings and the jittery energy that hangs captive in the air.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Lens Distortion
(I wrote another one tonight too, but that's queued up to post tomorrow. Lucky you.)
Girls in plastic cases
flash long hair and smiles.
Elbows stuck at permanent angles,
fingers bound in plastic;
skirts barely brushing skin,
heels forever raised.
Wings are turned to blurs
even when still,
seen through plastic and glass
and a million rules.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Spoken Last
Fluctuating silence
trampled by a parade
of words
while the clouds lose
their shape
in the forceful wind:
slowly disheveling acute smiles
into
a traveling man
opening his bag of
tricks
to find it no more
than a knapsack
lined with stained canvas.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Dinosaur
Week one of classes is down. Under my belt. Finished with that. Week two of classes is about to begin.
Bring it on, college.
Oh wait, it already did. I had to read two chapters of psychology (which equaled about 75 pages (and we're talking textbook pages, not normal people pages (ew))) and four chapters of ecology that I tried not to page count because I would just be depressed at what I spent my Sunday doing.
(I'm not really sure if that multiple-parenthesis thing I do is grammatically legal, but I really hope it is because I'm quite fond of it.)
Even though I had a ton of homework, I've also been having a ton of fun! It's really nice to have roommates who don't want to go out all the time, because then we can spend our Saturday nights doing awesome things like baking cookies with hot chocolate mix because we don't have any cocoa and playing Taboo until 2 a.m. while drinking Caprisuns. Like a boss.
Plus, we're beautiful. Fourth floor heartbreakers. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. Everybody loves us.
Especially Chris, the guy on the fifth floor who is actually so creeped out by me that he intentionally looks the other way whenever he sees me. Which, lucky for him, is quite frequently. Whatever. We're getting married.
I have so many funny, random, mostly retarded things to share from this week that I can't even decide where to start. So I will pick a spot like a monkey throwing a dart, and we will wheel away freely from there.
Girl in my German class: GO.
So I don't know who among you watches Scrubs, but if you do, think back to about season 7. New crop of interns, Cox hates them all, blah blah same old drill. But do you remember the one intern who has a voice that is so squeaky and annoying she is actually not allowed to talk?
Like, trying-to-imitate-a-child-on-helium kind of annoying?
Good. Now take that voice and apply to a short blonde girl and picture her saying "Wie geht es ihnen?"
Hilarious.
Also, very startling. I was actually taken slightly aback each time she spoke the first day.
And the second day.
And the third day.
Hell, it still hasn't set in that that is actually her natural voice. Every time she talks people in my class look at their friends like "is this real life?" and try to stifle a giggle.
I'm sorry, Kaylee. You just sound so ridiculous. And I get to hear her every day.
Other than that and the fact that some kid in my psychology class looks exactly like a kid I knew in high school and hate very much, classes have been pretty regulation.
It's back in my dorm where things get weird.
Weird... or awesome.
Such as the white board that I got for our door on Saturday and put up with a note saying "draw us beautiful pictures," all the while fully aware that nobody actually likes me and expecting all of the notes to be written by us. But then I got this one:
That note was definitely written by Chris, the boy from the fifth floor that I'm going to marry. Not Meghan. Chris.
My little heart was warmed.
Haha jokes. I didn't care about the note from Chris. (Sorry Meghan.) (Chris I still love you.) I cared about the awesome dinosaur that somebody drew me.
You guys. Somebody drew me a dinosaur. SOMEBODY DREW ME A DINOSAUR.
And I have no idea who it was. It wasn't even Meghan.
<3
Then tonight I saw that, in the midst of all of our ridiculous drawings that we added last night when we were drunk (on cookies! Got you, no alcohol here) the mystery artist had given his dinosaur a longer back and spikes all the way down his spine.
That dinosaur is going to live on my board forever.
Moral of this story (can I call this post a story?) is my suite is ridiculous, you should follow my Tumblr and then you can keep updated on all of the ridiculous things that we say all of the time (because I know that's totally high up on your agenda), and college life is so far suiting me well, even if I'm not quite going the traditional route.
Oh yeah, and somebody drew me a dinosaur.
Bring it on, college.
Oh wait, it already did. I had to read two chapters of psychology (which equaled about 75 pages (and we're talking textbook pages, not normal people pages (ew))) and four chapters of ecology that I tried not to page count because I would just be depressed at what I spent my Sunday doing.
(I'm not really sure if that multiple-parenthesis thing I do is grammatically legal, but I really hope it is because I'm quite fond of it.)
Even though I had a ton of homework, I've also been having a ton of fun! It's really nice to have roommates who don't want to go out all the time, because then we can spend our Saturday nights doing awesome things like baking cookies with hot chocolate mix because we don't have any cocoa and playing Taboo until 2 a.m. while drinking Caprisuns. Like a boss.
Plus, we're beautiful. Fourth floor heartbreakers. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. Everybody loves us.
Especially Chris, the guy on the fifth floor who is actually so creeped out by me that he intentionally looks the other way whenever he sees me. Which, lucky for him, is quite frequently. Whatever. We're getting married.
I have so many funny, random, mostly retarded things to share from this week that I can't even decide where to start. So I will pick a spot like a monkey throwing a dart, and we will wheel away freely from there.
Girl in my German class: GO.
So I don't know who among you watches Scrubs, but if you do, think back to about season 7. New crop of interns, Cox hates them all, blah blah same old drill. But do you remember the one intern who has a voice that is so squeaky and annoying she is actually not allowed to talk?
Like, trying-to-imitate-a-child-on-helium kind of annoying?
Good. Now take that voice and apply to a short blonde girl and picture her saying "Wie geht es ihnen?"
Hilarious.
Also, very startling. I was actually taken slightly aback each time she spoke the first day.
And the second day.
And the third day.
Hell, it still hasn't set in that that is actually her natural voice. Every time she talks people in my class look at their friends like "is this real life?" and try to stifle a giggle.
I'm sorry, Kaylee. You just sound so ridiculous. And I get to hear her every day.
Other than that and the fact that some kid in my psychology class looks exactly like a kid I knew in high school and hate very much, classes have been pretty regulation.
It's back in my dorm where things get weird.
Weird... or awesome.
Such as the white board that I got for our door on Saturday and put up with a note saying "draw us beautiful pictures," all the while fully aware that nobody actually likes me and expecting all of the notes to be written by us. But then I got this one:
My little heart was warmed.
Haha jokes. I didn't care about the note from Chris. (Sorry Meghan.) (Chris I still love you.) I cared about the awesome dinosaur that somebody drew me.
You guys. Somebody drew me a dinosaur. SOMEBODY DREW ME A DINOSAUR.
And I have no idea who it was. It wasn't even Meghan.
<3
Then tonight I saw that, in the midst of all of our ridiculous drawings that we added last night when we were drunk (on cookies! Got you, no alcohol here) the mystery artist had given his dinosaur a longer back and spikes all the way down his spine.
That dinosaur is going to live on my board forever.
Moral of this story (can I call this post a story?) is my suite is ridiculous, you should follow my Tumblr and then you can keep updated on all of the ridiculous things that we say all of the time (because I know that's totally high up on your agenda), and college life is so far suiting me well, even if I'm not quite going the traditional route.
Oh yeah, and somebody drew me a dinosaur.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Can You Even Get a Ticket for Riding a Unicorn?
Orientation went out with a bang tonight, at the last scheduled event of the week: Hypnotism.
My roomies and I went to Dueling Pianos... and that shit sucked. So we were a little skeptical about tonight. But seeing as how I had spent all afternoon sitting in my room and my one roomie who was actually here had friends to entertain, we decided it was for the best to just go to see the hypnotist.
Best. Decision. Ever.
The guy himself wasn't a comedian, but the stuff that he made people almost made you walk away thinking that he was.
There were probably about 30 people onstage, in chairs, heads slumped in their laps, patiently awaiting his every command. But it wasn't the stuff that they did that was the best, it was the outrageous things that they said. I... I can't even... I just can't. Awesome.
Example 1:
(For the sake of these examples, we will call the Hypnotist "Jim", because hypnotist is really annoying to type and I like that name. And he looked like a Jim.)
Jim: What dream car do you want?
Dude: The jeep from Jurassic Park.
Jim: Any accessories with that?
Dude: A dinosaur.
(Later. Everybody has won their dream car by playing slots, and then gotten pulled over by a cop for speeding away.)
Jim the Cop: That's a nice Jeep. Where did you get it?
Dude: ...Jurassic Park.
Jim the Cop: ...mm-hm. And what's that in the backseat?
Dude: ...
Jim the Cop: ...?
Dude: I have a dinosaur.
Jim the Cop: ...why?
Dude: I need to take him home.
Jim the Cop: And why did you need to go that fast?
Dude: ...I have a dinosaur.
Example 2:
Jim: What dream car are you looking at?
Girl: A unicorn.
Jim: Alright, so you just won your car... or creature...
Example 3:
Jim: He seems to have lost his butt.
Ass-less guy: Yeah, I can't find it.
Jim: Would you mind telling us what it looks like, so we can help you locate it?
Ass-less guy: Well, it's white... and round, and has two cheeks. That's about it.
Example 4:
(Jim just told them all that they were watching a porno (to which one guy deeefinitely tried to jack off onstage (awkward)) and then informed them that the people they just watched... were their parents.)
Jim: What would you say to your parents?
Guy: TEACH ME.
Example 5:
Jim: When I say 3, you all will go out in the audience and do an erotic dance for these judges. No grinding, just dancing. Alright? 1... 2... 3.
All guys take their shirts off.
And there are so so so many more examples, but luckily for you I have borderline the shittiest memory ever and therefore don't really remember enough full conversations to actually want to type any more out. But, yeah. It was awesome. Y'all should be jealous.
Oh, and by the way, it was decided that you can not, in fact, get a ticket for speeding on a unicorn. Lucky break.
My roomies and I went to Dueling Pianos... and that shit sucked. So we were a little skeptical about tonight. But seeing as how I had spent all afternoon sitting in my room and my one roomie who was actually here had friends to entertain, we decided it was for the best to just go to see the hypnotist.
Best. Decision. Ever.
The guy himself wasn't a comedian, but the stuff that he made people almost made you walk away thinking that he was.
There were probably about 30 people onstage, in chairs, heads slumped in their laps, patiently awaiting his every command. But it wasn't the stuff that they did that was the best, it was the outrageous things that they said. I... I can't even... I just can't. Awesome.
Example 1:
(For the sake of these examples, we will call the Hypnotist "Jim", because hypnotist is really annoying to type and I like that name. And he looked like a Jim.)
Jim: What dream car do you want?
Dude: The jeep from Jurassic Park.
Jim: Any accessories with that?
Dude: A dinosaur.
(Later. Everybody has won their dream car by playing slots, and then gotten pulled over by a cop for speeding away.)
Jim the Cop: That's a nice Jeep. Where did you get it?
Dude: ...Jurassic Park.
Jim the Cop: ...mm-hm. And what's that in the backseat?
Dude: ...
Jim the Cop: ...?
Dude: I have a dinosaur.
Jim the Cop: ...why?
Dude: I need to take him home.
Jim the Cop: And why did you need to go that fast?
Dude: ...I have a dinosaur.
Example 2:
Jim: What dream car are you looking at?
Girl: A unicorn.
Jim: Alright, so you just won your car... or creature...
Example 3:
Jim: He seems to have lost his butt.
Ass-less guy: Yeah, I can't find it.
Jim: Would you mind telling us what it looks like, so we can help you locate it?
Ass-less guy: Well, it's white... and round, and has two cheeks. That's about it.
Example 4:
(Jim just told them all that they were watching a porno (to which one guy deeefinitely tried to jack off onstage (awkward)) and then informed them that the people they just watched... were their parents.)
Jim: What would you say to your parents?
Guy: TEACH ME.
Example 5:
Jim: When I say 3, you all will go out in the audience and do an erotic dance for these judges. No grinding, just dancing. Alright? 1... 2... 3.
All guys take their shirts off.
And there are so so so many more examples, but luckily for you I have borderline the shittiest memory ever and therefore don't really remember enough full conversations to actually want to type any more out. But, yeah. It was awesome. Y'all should be jealous.
Oh, and by the way, it was decided that you can not, in fact, get a ticket for speeding on a unicorn. Lucky break.
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