raptor ate my homework

what's the likelihood that several velociraptors will manifest, get up to the 4th floor of a building, break into a room, and destroy a laptop with a bunch of unfinished papers saved on it?

I guess I'll try my luck.

ajar

My friends and I will never get enough of certain jokes. Some make no sense, and some make perfect sense but would not be funny to anybody else.

One that I'm compelled to draw:

You see, anything that's ajar could actually BE A JAR at any given moment! Your doors, your drawers, your windows and your washing machines! They could all be a jar at this VERY MOMENT!

And, scene.

Oranges

There's a small patch of land behind the dining hall with a very tightly niched ecosystem.  Trees, grass, and squirrels all coexist, relying on people to keep the plants well-kept and to throw the food upon which the squirrels thrive.  People throw things like apple cores and banana peels and stale cookies.  You know, the usual dining hall rejections that nobody is willing to hold onto long enough to find a decent trashcan.  So, to the squirrels they go!

Lately I noticed that somebody has been throwing entire oranges back there.  As if they took one look inside the peel, remembered they hated oranges, and chucked it at high velocity towards the nearest tree trunk in disgust.  It was interesting at first when there were two or three oranges out there, but now...

Squirrels, you'd think, would enjoy these oranges, but they still seem quite whole and there are less squirrels in the area than I remember. Almost like oranges are invasive species upon the squirrels.  In the competition for space, are these oranges MURDERING SQUIRRELS?!

On a more serious note: What? Is it some sort of... trend? Or a plague? I'm not sure what to call it. And it could be more than one person doing it.  I wish I knew their motives.  Nobody hates oranges THAT much without doing something a little more mature about it.  Seems like a pretty ineffective way to speak against the commercialism of oranges.

Well. Anyway. Whoever is doing this, I commend you on your attempt at chaos, but you need to do a lot of work if this is going to develop into a major scheme.

Do Not Touch

Over the weekend, I went to an art museum for the first time in a good eight years.  It's been a big eight years apparently because I have a developed reverence for art.  Everything in the museum was beautiful and fascinating and I wanted to know everything about everything, everrr.  I was proud to point out uses of tenebrism, chiaroscuro, linear perspective, monumentalism, and so on.

Naturally I didn't go by myself.  I begged my dad to take me dragged my dad along and it was quite an adventure.  He and I feigned our way through pretentious attempts at scholarly debate and discussion of certain works.  We actually impressed each other with our imagined knowledge.  I could tell that even though we were pretending like it was boring, we were having a great time.

But there was one thing that I did not enjoy: my father's proximity to works of art.

Be it a hollow 4-foot Korean ceramic sculpture or a bust of George Washington, my dad felt free to gesticulate animatedly around sculptures and just barely avoid scratching the paintings.  I nearly had a heart attack every single time.  But he never faltered.  No security guards seemed concerned.  No alarms went off.  Other patrons did not seem to take notice.  My dad totally got away with exchangin' electrons with one-of-a-kind works of art.

Why? Have I been wrong in thinking that squinting from four or five feet away yields a reasonably close-up view of a work of art?  In his more experienced age, does my father have a better grip on the volume he takes up in space? Is he just confident in his movements?  Or does he have no art bubble and just thinks that that's okay?  Cuz it wasn't okay with me.  Maybe he interpreted my mild panic attacks as an attempt at hilarity, if he noticed them at all.

Yknowww, I could probably ask him about all this.  But I probably won't.  If you're reading this dad, hello, and please help me understand your ways of a graceful bull in a very fine china shop.

Rewarded for Procrastination

I should be writing a textual analysis paper.  But I'm not.  I've been procrastinating for weeks, days, and hours now.  I have about 8 hours to turn it in.  It'll get done, of course, but not before I push all my limits.

I wouldn't procrastinate so much if I wasn't continuously rewarded for it.  Despite producing horribly last-minute and slip-shod work, I keep getting decent grades.  It's like goofin' off pays off.  I can live in a world like this.

The ultimate reward came tonight.  Instead of writing my paper all day, I slept. I got in a good 18 hours.  Guilt eventually settled in so I sat down at my desk, typed six words of an introduction sentence, considered which books I'd need to consult, and then decided I was ready for a break.  I went to dinner and attended a three-hour play before actually sitting down to get serious.

I think it was at this point that the Karmic wheel in the sky took notice of me.

Within moments I realized I was severely lacking energy and went down to the lobby to buy myself a soda.  Err, a pop.  Soda-pop.  Anyway, I bought a Pepsi, and as it was vending, I heard several clunks and thuds and bumps.  The flap seperating me from my sugary carbonated drink was jammed shut! Refusing to accept this I punched it until it loosened.  To my ultimate surprise I had been vended not one but THREE PEPSI PRODUCTS.

That's right.  Karma noticed that I needed some caffeine for my fateful night of paper-writing and granted me three doses of caffiene for the price of one.  Sky-wheel, you spin in some odd directions, but I praise you nonetheless.

ice cream puddle

I could spend time discussing the tragedy of what happens when one forgets about an ice cream cone and it sits out in the sun, but instead I'll show you a picture of it edited by yours truly!

It was a beautiful mess, but a mess nonetheless.

Sunburn

Today was a lovely day. Naturally, I went outside for like five seconds, and that's all it took for me to get a sunburn.  This wouldn't be so big a deal, burning is natural - sunburns are to pale kids as hibernation is to bears - except for the fact that I wore an undergarment of criss-crossing nature, and received a very distinctive x-shaped tan on my back.

This has happened to me before, but on a much worse scale: four years ago I wore a one-piece with thick straps and got a similar (though wayyy worse) V-shaped second-degree burn that kept me tan through the next several winters.

I decided to look up a picture of it for comparison.

Please do take note that I am wearing THE EXACT SAME TANK TOP IN BOTH PICTURES.  This could mean several things:
1. every time I wear that tank top, I flash fry like a chicken leg.
2. every time I flash fry like a chicken leg, I'm wearing that top.
3. I have not changed my top in the past 4 years.

I kinda miss my Victory V.  At least people knew and respected the fact it's a swim suit tan.  With my X of Shame though... a sassy bra is the only thing that would leave such a mark.

At least I've upgraded from an insecure thickstrap one-piece to scanty Victoria's Secret bras.

Chips. Dips.

My suitemates and I are addicted to chips and dip.  It started simply as our preferred snack but now it's an obsession.  Despite our knowledge of the lack of nutritional value, we gorge upon chips/dips as often as possible.  Sometimes it's what motivates us through our days.  We've even discussed making meals of it and possibly devoting an entire shelf to chips and another to dips, arranging them carefully like books in a library.

Sadly as college students, we can't afford 1. to pay for that many brands of chips and varieties of dips 2. the unnecessary calories.

But we can dream.

Door

I've recently discovered that the door to my bathroom does not latch on the inside, meaning that to enter the room from the bathroom requires only a shove to the door.

This simple fact has changed my life dramatically.

Moving around in the suite is so much easier.  I can bounce from room to room in less than a second.  If I need to carry something heavy or awkward I only need to turn the handle of the initial door and slam myself into the second one.  It is also easier to escape darkness-monsters.

On a negative note, I've become too accustomed to the hands-off method of opening doors, and I find myself slamming into normal doors that do not give way, rather painfully.  The feeling is comparable to turning into a human accordion. Womp, womp.

I feel like I've accessed magic but only for a moment and returning to a life without that magic takes a painful several-second transition.

The Pig-Man of Res Life

A pig is trying to ruin my life.

Head of my school's Residential Life, this pig-man has come into a surprising bit of power as next year's room selection draws to a close.  I paid him a visit in hopes to sort out the shambles of my living situation and the best he did was piss me off and tell me nothing I ever want could ever possibly work out.  His best case scenario for me was honestly my idea of the worst case scenario before I entered the office.  The only advice he gave me was to come back often and check if anything new shows up.

After talking down to me and rejecting my suggestions (do pigmen find feasting upon dignity and self-confidence a source of good nutrition?), there was not much left for me to do but leave.  Not only did he not care, it was as if I was wasting his time!  It's his job to help me find a place to live and all he did was tell me where I could never get in.  He was more ruinous than helpful.  I curled my lips into a cordial smile, ending the battle but not quite the war.

"Okay, well, there are your options. Cool?" He tried to sound casual, nonchalant even.  I responded quicker than I could stop myself. "No, actually. Not 'cool'. But I accept the rules for what they are. Thank you for your time."

You may be a powerful pig-man, but I, sir, am a dragon.  And who knows when I might want bacon for breakfast.

I'm sure he's a wonderful guy.  I however do not agree.

Happy Meal

This past Saturday, a few friends of mine were awake and hungry far before our usual noon-time brunch.  Being a band of warriors in search of a breakfast fit for our appetites, we all decided on McDonald's.  Warrior fuel, indeed.

Upon entrance I immediately scan this month's theme for Happy Meal toys.  It's a habit of mine: for the first 15 years of my life, going to McD's simply meant new toys.  Not so much emphasis was on the food.  I can't even tell you how many times as a lil' kid I got a kiddie burger, ate a bite, opened the toy, spit out the pickle, and gave the rest to my dad.

Anyway so I run into  McD's and marvel at the Happy Meal toys.

"OHHH MY GODDD LOOOOOK SUPERHEROOOES!!!" I whine, admiring at all the colors and varieties, bouncing up and down like a kid.  I seriously considered getting one til I realized I was a big girl and Happy Meals did not have 3 Egg McMuffins as an option... yet.

We ate our various breakfast sandwiches and enjoyed each other's company.  The place was quite quiet at the odd hour of day.  As it approached a more lunchlike time, people began to appear in the restaurant. As we left I noticed a kid ran in and marveled at the toys.  He was seriously wiggin' out over the potential combo of Batman AND Robin.
"Look at that lil kid," my roommate said with an adoring tone in her voice. I scoffed and said something about how stupid and obnoxious kids are. "Whadda they think, they're here for just the TOYS?!"

My roommate burst into laughter.  "Hayley! That was the first thing YOU did when we walked in here!"  And she was right.  My roommate called out my 19-year-old tuchus for doing the same dang thing as a 4-year-old only 20 minutes ago.

Ouch.

new pet?

I'm finally committing to it: I'm buying a pet snake.  I've been saving up my money and selling my valuables for a while now and it just seems like the right time.  I've already called in to my hometown pet shops and found the best deal ever.  The instant I'm home for Easter I'm gonna pick him up at the store.  I'm investing in an adooorable baby ball python.  I will raise him to be big n fat.  I'll train him to eat gross things and sit on my shoulders all day.  Maybe he'll even do both at the same time!

Dreams DOOO come truuueee.  I'm struggling with where I'm gonna put him in my dorm since leaving him at home is never going to be an option.  Also... I have no idea how I'm gonna smuggle him into my dorm room in the first place.

Seriously though. I'm pregnant. Surprise!

If you can't tell yet this is an APRIL FOOL'S DAY post.  Calm down, mom. :)