Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Social experiment of sorts

For no reason whatsoever I guess I ran a small social experiment.  Baldwin Dining hall is at its busiest around noon and it's not hard to get away with a wide range of frowned-upon tasks.  So while standing beside some friends of mine in line I was casually dared to nab a rather large bulk bag of unnamed foodish-type material.  I played with them jokingly, scootching a step or two away from the line.

I surveyed the area only to notice how very opportune the moment was: all dining hall managers were busy and the lunch ladies buffet supervisors had ducked back into the kitchen.  The way was clear.  A quick dash was all it would take and the bulk stuff would be mine!

It was super difficult because one goaded me on while the other pleaded she was just kidding and I shouldn't go through with it.  But it was too late.  THE CHALLENGE HAD BEEN ACCEPTED!  What a final stand against Bangs, to swipe such a massive amount of packaged continental fodder!

I crouched, dashed, snatched, and booked it back towards my seat, arms quite visibly full of a food bag.  Naturally our table was located towards the northmost part of the dining hall and the buffet due south.  The entire midsection of Baldwin saw me wildly sprinting with the contraband. I never felt so alive.

My friends were not amused.  They were mad, even.  They confronted me as if they were accessories to murder.  But it was way too late to put it back!  It was then we concocted this social experiment: if I was caught, I'd return it.  If somebody turned me in, well, there's some sort of good(y-two-shoes)ness in society and I'd suffer the consequences.  And if I wasn't caught or turned in, it would be my prize.  Shoot, even if I WAS caught, I could probably get away scot-free if I make up some excuse about running a social experiment.  I bet if I threw a professor's name in there I'd be totally fine.

Regardless, nothing at all happened by way of punishment.  I got away with it and have heard nothing since except the crunch n munch of the apprehended food in my teeth.  I guess my act was just too bold for society to stand against.  Is that a thing?  Sometimes some acts are too random for one to consider to stop even if they're kinda wrong?  I push that kinda limit all the time, and never once have I been called out for it.  I've thought for a long time that it has to do with my seemingly innocent appearance.  Passers-by misjudge my harmless visage greatly.

What was it that I happened to nab? Well, I'm not at the liberty to tell you, but let's just say I think my life is rather charmed.  I am such a lucky person

P.S. this marks a grand victory over Bangs.  For those keeping score, I'm winning.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Loose Hair

Eeeuuuggghhhww.  Loose hair.  I'm not sure what to call it: a fear would imply that I find it threatening, which I don't.  A weakness would suggest some kind of addiction WHICH IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT TRUE.  So I guess what I'd say is that I have an extreme aversion to loose hair.
The instant a hair detaches from its root, it instantly grosses me out.  It becomes a tangly nearly-invisible mess that is too static to be affected by gravity and too minuscule to get a good grip for timely and effective removal.  It has been a problem for me since I can remember.  I've been thinking about this equation/formula thingy for many years and this is what I've realized: I find unattached hairs exponentially gross with every second that they are no longer attached to the body.

A chart, to visualize:

It's pretty extreme.  I have learned to under-react so as to not frighten innocent bystanders in locker rooms when I happen to get some nasty lil kid's hairwad wedged between my toes.

My set-up leads me to this story: as a college student, I am lazy.  I avoid cleaning and rarely do my part unless I have somebody to impress or I start to feel guilty.  I felt guilty today when I finished showering upon realizing that the hair stuck in the drain had been accumulating for weeks now and needed to be removed, BADLYYYY.

I immediately knew that this task was something I had to do.  Something to help me to cope or even overcome my aversion.  So I sucked it up, grabbed some Maverick One-Ply, and went to removin'!

My initial attempts seemed fruitless, as if the hairs were tied to the drain.  What I did not realize was that the hair in the drain wasn't simply laying on top.  No. As I squinted through the drain I began to see something horrible.  Something I can only call a monster

The hair on the surface was actually part of an advanced underground network of accumulated hair, ancient and evil and resting like Cthulhu for longer than time has cared to keep track.  A sopping, moldy, sludgy, possibly sentient and definitely nasty hairmonster exists in the world below my feet every single day. Watching me as I take a shower.


I successfully fought the urge to throw up despite my constant gagging and in a childish attempt to make things right I ripped and tore at the hairmonster's surface tendrils, pulling up as much of the monster as I could and tossing it overdramatically into the trash.  I tried to push away images of being forced by gunpoint to eat it (that was the first thing I thought of, no joke) and did not stop until the drain had no hair on it visible to the squinty up-close human eye.  The monster withdrew, defeated for now, reduced from tennis ball size to a racquetball.  Ha! How ashamed that hairmonster must be! At least mimick the volume of a REAL sport's ball, fool!

Though the grotesque wad of hair in the shower drain still technically exists, I am proud to say I have conquered it for now.  Next time its tendrils wind thickly into the land of light I'll at least be prepared. Or, yknow, I can clean the hair out every day and never have to deal with the giant wad ever again.  

It'll be a grand testament to either my integrity or my laziness.

Monday, March 21, 2011


As a much more famous blogger once stated, "printers were sent from Hell."  And I'm sure we're all inclined to agree.  I myself was not sold on this idea in a desperate attempt to preserve some good karmic energy.  But there's no avoiding it now.  If printers aren't evil, then at least they're stupid.  I honestly don't know why we trust those things with so many important documents and urgent matters.

Dumb as a box of rocks? Dumb as a plastic box full of technological magic.

Last night my mother emailed me a copy of an important tax form.  My task was simple enough.  Print, sign where highlighted, scan, send back.  I had two printing options: my so-far-so-good reliable in-room printer which had recently been complaining of low ink, or the computer lab with $57 saved up in print credits that was tragically four flights of stairs away.  Siding with laziness, I decided to open the PDF and print it in my room, despite my fear of an empty ink cartridge.  I busied myself with Facebook and emails, waiting for the printing job to process and complete.  It took a bit longer than I anticipated.


Oh, thanks, printer.  A good thick 7x10 block of my black ink of which the cartridge was apparently running out.  I was hoping to save that so thank you for giving it to me all at once so I can put it some place safe and dry and USELESS AAAUUUGHHHHHHGHGRRRGGOHRAAARRGHHH 

Because the PDF file was clearly bugged I decided to do it my OWN way. Thankfully I know my way around a MicroSoft Paint program or two.  I screen-shotted the two halves of the document and copy/pasted them together, making use of transparent overlaying to match up the seams.  I printed this new much more reliable document, signed it, scanned it, and resaved it as a PDF, and it was totally taken for legitimate.

Eff off, printers.  Marry me, MSPaint.

Friday, March 18, 2011


I don't know how or why but there's a big ol' ugly housefly in my room right now.  And I can't find it.  It was buzzin' around the window last night, I know, because it was loud enough to disturb my sleep.  I mostly forgot about it until just a minute ago I heard it and ran over to see if it was stuck or something.  But it wasn't there.

Where could it be? I haven't seen it flying around.  Wherever it is, it's disoriented, and it keeps running noisily into its surrounding obstacles. It's quieting down now. It's settled in some mystery place, probably to die, only to be found weeks later in a disgustingly mummified state.  Naturally the first thing I think is that it's somewhere important to me.  Like, on my pillow, near my toothbrush, or in a cashew. Basically anywhere that needs to be sacredly clean for me to stay sane and would be perma-contaminated by the presence of a dead bug.

Even worse to consider is that it's hiding someplace too close to me for comfort, completely alive, and plotting.

What could flies want to plot?! I better find this thing before it finds me.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Alter Ego

You'd think that I, a person with a twin an already strong and well-developed personality, would not find the psychological need for an alter ego.

You'd be wrong.

Over the past year I've developed a character into which I can transition with ease during situations that require me to react in ways I normally wouldn't.  My alter ego can speak in an ebonic accent.  My alter ego will swear at complete strangers.  My alter ego tends to wear ridiculous slutty mismatched outfits and 80's hairstyles.  My alter ego is not afraid to start fist fights with 6'-7' men.  My alter ego can even answer the phone when I don't recognize the number that's calling.  Anybody who's known me longer than a couple years would know I WOULD NEVER DO THAT LAST ONE, EVER.

This alternate personality, who refers to herself in the third person as "T'tanka", has come in handy quite often.  When people claim they've seen me where I shouldn't be, I simply say that must have been T'Tanka.  During times where I've missed meetings, I'll blame T'Tanka for being a bad secretary and scheduling me incorrectly.  You get the idea.  T'Tanka is the summation of all the characteristics inside me who lack responisibility and does not care about her reputation.


I've recently put T'Tanka on a break considering all the responsibilities I can't afford to shirk this semester.  But this week is Baby Week for my sorority, and I've received a request for T'Tanka to make an appearance as a delivery person.

This is the outfit T'Tanka has picked for tonight's errands.

She's a bundle of fun, that alter ego of mine.  I miss her.  Maybe I'll break her out more often than I anticipated this semester.  No worries, I'll be safe.  T'Tanka on the other hand... she'll do what she wants.


My spring break hiatus is over.

Expect a new post within the next hour.

Meanwhile, my dog is slowly turning more bovine with each passing day. Enjoy this quick image of him about halfway through his dog-cow transition.

Woofie say "Moo."

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Spring Break

Well, I'm at home for spring break, doing absolutely nothing.  I started break with a 36-hour debacle in Canada which is super blogworthy but I don't have the energy at this moment to open that typing-can of text-worms.

But I'll draw you a can of worms to stave ya off.

My mom says this is a cop-out. Yes it is.

Thursday, March 3, 2011


The Detroit Zoo has welcomed a new baby aardvark recently.  I normally wouldn't care but the zoo staff decided, out of all the names in the cosmos, to give it the same name as my sister.

Their likenesses are impeccable, except for the fact that my sister doesn't wear the red bracelet anymore.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011


I'm okay with the fact that it's March but not okay with the fact that it's not warm yet.  Spring break is days away and my plans for Canada look equally if not colder than how it is right now in Michigan.  I really wasn't expecting much different, but I hold out hope for a slight thaw, just for a day or two.

I always think that something magical should happen when February ends and March begins.  The nasty frigid -uaries are over and the succinctly-named months begin.  Shouldn't there be some sort of event to galvanize the transition?  I think that at the stroke of midnight, a beeeaaauuutiful hopeful lil' flower should shoot up and emanate rays of sunshine. Not a lot of light.  And not for long.  Just a few minutes of bio-luminescence is all I'd need to know that spring will soon be sprung.

For all I know this COULD be happening annually.  The sunrise frost probably wipes out Lil' Miss Over-Enthusiastic every time.  Poor girl.  Winter makes me realize that I am quite thankful for my circulatory system.