Wednesday Is The Day I Don't Get To Watch Television At Night Because Of Stupid College. I Hate College.

1) When I refer to being in my "office" when I'm writing this, you should know that what that really means is that I'm perched on a blue and white striped couch with a laptop on my knees. The "office" is the room where my "I live alone" living room came to die in Randy's "I live alone with better shit than yours" house. So it's me and this couch and a table with a cigarette burn in it that I think makes it look hard and beaten and tough-loved (you know, for IKEA), three bookcases with maybe eight hundred million thousand dollars worth of ebay books, two velociraptors made entirely out of seashells, a plaster-of-paris chicken and some other stuff that I refuse to live without. Oh. A bowl with ceramic frogs on it. And right now I have a glass of red wine resting pensively on a paperback book on the couch. Place your bets. I bet celsius. Minus seven.

2) The highlight of my day today was a conversation I had with Jen in which we discussed potential ideas for my impending Renaissance Lit paper. "Impending" in that it was due about an hour from RIGHT THEN. Jen had the immeasurably brilliant idea that I should make my paper a performance piece. I won't go into the gritty details, but it ended with me in a tee-shirt that said "My Whole Family Just Died Of The Plague And All I Got Was This Disease-Infested Tee Shirt", walking around with a tallboy of Meade in a woven grass basket and carrying a club for killing bunnies. I think in the piece I ultimately get hit by an oxcart. No matter. Oxcart... plague... rabies... whatsey whosey. I love Jen.

3) The girl that sits next to me in class went on and ON about her addiction to coffee this evening. She giggled and purred and all-around couldn't BELIEVE how much she craved coffee! She had always told herself that she wouldn't be like her mother and drink coffee all day but... here she was! Giggle! Purr!
She was sipping on a Starbucks caramel mochachino as she admitted her horrifying addiction. I... I can't even find the words, people...

Psychic Croissants in... Taking One For The Team!

I stumbled into the kitchen this morning feeling particularly peckish. Scrambled eggs and cottage cheese! With hot sauce! As usual! I was reaching under the counter for the scrambler pan when I heard a muffled throat clearing. Slight, yet haughty. Polite, yet arrogant. I rolled my eyes and turned around. Sure enough. White bag of croissants. Rustling.

"What, man?" I asked, exasperated. "I told Randy I didn't want croissants! You're not for me, you're for Chris. And he's still sleeping. So keep playing word games or whatever." And I turned back to the stove. But it's never that easy.

"Um...?" began the bag. "But, why, though? I mean, you know, why?" That damned cherry-filled.

"Because you're huge! You're just a huge, big, giant ball of dough! With.. cherries. And icing. And anyway, you're Chris's."

The bag tittered. "Actually, Chris isn't going to get up for another four and a half hours. And then he's not going to feel well so he's going to go sit in the steam room at the gym." That fucking cream cheese-filled. "He'll give two old men a sinus infection. One of them will have to take Ciprofloxacin. "

"Guys, no. Stop it. I'm having eggs."

"You're out of eggs."

Shit. No point in even looking, then; cream cheese-filled is never ever wrong.

I look at the bag. The bag looks at me.

"I have an icing heart on me this time!" sings cherry-filled, rocking back and forth. And what am I supposed to do then?

"You're going to eat us both," reports cream cheese-filled happily. "And then later, you'll be brushing crumbs off of your shirt and you'll get a big croissant flake up your nose. You'll smell croissants for like three hours." And then they both burst out laughing like little schoolgirl croissants.

Psychic croissants: always right, but a sense of humor like a bag of rocks.

Not Much To Report, Squadron B.

We did a lot of cleaning yesterday; there was a lot of shit that had to be thrown away if we were ever going to make Randy's "all foosball all the time" room a reality. We don't clean well together, though; Randy is a keeper and I'm a thrower awayer. We started out fairly judicious with one another but as the afternoon wore on I'd find him cradling a bent wire hanger like a sleeping infant and weeping, and he'd catch me frantically throwing everyone's ski clothes and baby pictures into the garbage. It was all worth it in the end though. A whole room devoted to a three-legged foosball table with no ball. We're grownups.

UPDATE: You know that the foosball table is way too close to the wall when, while foosing with a tangerine, you get stabbed in the liver by the overzealous defense.

The Do-It-Yourself Car Wash: It's Humiliation Attached To A High-Powered Vacuum, Complete With Water In The Face!

1) My car smelled like six-year-old Marlboro smoke, fiberglass insulation, hot sand and standing water. The dust layer was so thick on the inside of the windshield that when the sun was just right I kept almost hitting people in front of the Safeway. I had become entombed in dust, and strangers pushing carts shouldn't have to die (or fall down hard) because of it. It was time. And since I was particularly quarter rich this morning, I decided that I would treat the Nissan to a spa day.

2) I should have cleaned the interior out at home, probably. Anybody else carry around a locked metal box full of diaries from when they were ten? Or three umbrellas? IN ARIZONA? And a bottle of conditioner exploded in the back seat. I didn't know that was back there. Pretty happy about it, though. A big puddle of congealed conditioner isn't ghetto at all. I never thought I'd be the girl who has to say, "Oh, wait! Let me LAY SOMETHING DOWN FIRST."

3) Let's talk about the vacuum.

Ask me how many times I got tangled in the vacuum hose.

Ask me how many times I tripped over the vacuum hose and fell down.

Ask me how many times I sucked my own hair into the vacuum.

Ask me how many pennies the vacuum sucked up and then made horrible loud retching sounds about.

Okay. I'm done talking about it now.

4) There was a guy next to me who had those fake bullethole stickers all over the side of his car. HA! HA! NO HE DIDN'T! He had REAL bulletholes all over the side of his car! I went from eye-rolling condescension to eyes-down minding my own beeswax in 2.2 seconds. When the water was dribbling out of those holes I kept expecting to see internal car parts slipping through... a tiny bolt, maybe some oil. Cars aren't human, though, so when you shoot them they don't crouch over and cry or demand to get taken to the emergency room or faint or scream that they're not ready to die. Although this car did seem to favor it's other quarterpanel a little. In a badass way. And it had a teardrop tattooed just under it's left headlight. So I'd hate to see the other car.

5) Yeah, I got pretty wet.

6) Hey, but I didn't spray under the hood this time, so I shouldn't have any $570 electrical "what the fuck did you do" issues like I did LAST time. You know. Fool me once.

7) I felt pretty stupid wiping ArmourAll on my multi-cracked dash. The car was polite though, and didn't scream "how 'bout a little bit of that, like, FOUR YEARS AGO???" the way I worried that it might. I think that was nice. That the car could be the bigger person.

8) And the whole thing only cost me $83.25! I'm so glad I didn't let somebody else do it for $15! Then I might not have gotten wet, hurt and scared! And I'd have TWO WHOLE HOURS to fill! Good decision!

9) I got a library overdue notice, an outstanding parking ticket and my student loan interest bill in the mail today. I rock.

Today! Except for anything after 10:22! Because I haven't done that stuff yet! Awwwwyeah. Bragging about my grasp of space and time!

1) I woke up in the middle of the night dreaming that someone was driving a Volkswagen over my skull. I was lying in a mud bog in the rain, and this kid kept backing over my head with his car. Needless to say, I woke up with a stomach ache. In my brain.

2) I spent a lot of my afternoon perched on the couch relishing in my brand new AIM lifestyle with Jen and staring out at the godforsaken terror that is my office. When I finally did get around to cleaning and organizing (read: when Jen signed off) I made a lot of progress, I think. I decided to keep the glass bunny and the glass octopus and the glass beaver and the glass piggies and the glass horses and glass ladybugs and the fish bottle opener and a box full of rocks and a snowman made out of shells on waterskis and I threw away all of my W2s, my life insurance information, my 401K packet, my LSAT scores, my GRE scores, my transcripts and a bunch of blank paper. I think it went well, and I feel better about life in general now.