-It seems as though you have some sort of uncomfortable object stuffed up your rear. I cannot imagine that feels very well. It seems to be making you a bit on the grumpy-puss side. This is most likely the reason for your complete lack of patience and civility. I also sense some sarcasm. Are you upset about something? Would you like some assistance in the removal of your apparent bum plug? I'd be more than happy to lend you a hand, and proceed to shove the removed object down your throat perhaps? -Has your mother taught you no decency? That's right. I have just insulted your mother. I do apologize for that. Really. Perhaps you had an awful day, worthy of cantankerous behavior. Perhaps I should give you a break and disregard your actions this time. After all, it's only logical that you take your frustration out on everyone else, as I grin and maintain my friendly demeanor. I assure you, it is an effortless task, even after enduring many long hours of hell. -I cannot blame you for such things. After all, you are better than me. You are wearing fancy pants and I'm sure your car is an impressive one. I'm positive that your job is more important and glamorous than mine and you come from an important, wealthy family. I am happy that your housekeeper has the ability to comply with your every demand, and in under two minutes. How wonderful for you. I envy you. A man like you need not consider things other than themselves. Your time is more important than anything else. It's about time people start realizing this. I do warn you, however, karma can be a pest. -With untruthful admiration, A human unworthy of your repulsive personality
Eat something. Food. You need food. Food is good. Food enables life. Protruding ribs are not attractive. Just as most humans do, I am, at times, self conscious of my weight. Growing up as "the skinny one", I have often felt pressured to maintain my slim figure. I have struggled with unhealthy feelings and eating habits through my adolescents, but to no extreme. I did not quite gain the freshman fifteen, however, the weight gain is noticeable. (to me at least) Unfortunately and fortunately, this has not stopped me from enjoying some tasty treats. I think it is really sad when people think that they need to stop eating all together until they look like a living skeleton. Healthy is Sexy. Therefore, I encourage the consumption of french fries and pop-tarts, spaghetti and tacos. Eat. Please. We all struggle. Besides, everyone is so concerned with the way they look, that they don't even notice the few extra pounds you may be carrying in your hips. Cherish the junk in your trunk.
As my stomach hungers for nourishment, I find myself strolling to the refrigerator. Upon the first glance into the deep coves of refrigeration, I find nothing but beverages, condiments, thawing meat, and questionable leftovers. Nothing appetizing is discovered. My gut instinct, which is located near my rumbling tummy, tells me to take another gander. Then I see it, the ham sandwich, enclosed in a plastic bag, ready to be consumed for someone's lunch the next day, taunting me. There's something so alluring about the blandness of the processed cold-cut on tasteless bread. I find myself wickedly tempted to take a taste. I ponder the discovery of a half eaten sandwich by an unexpecting family member. The thrill grows inside of me. The image of a single bite mark leaves my mind, as a giggle leaves my lips. I am indeed an evil being.
We all know that there are certain pairs of underwear that we have owned that were prone to grundies. We would find the naughty little underroos creeping each time they were worn, without fail. Normally, such offending underpants would be kept at the bottom of the drawer, only to be worn in extreme emergencies. Afterall, why bother with the nuisance if it can be avoided? This is why I marvel at the boxer phenomenon. Do not get me wrong. I adore boxers. They are my friend. Boxers have become my favorite sleepwear. However, as I stepped out of the shower a while back, I noticed that in my haste I had forgotten to grab underwear for the new day. I decided that venturing across my room half naked to retrieve a pair would not be wise, seeing as though my window shades were open. Therefore, I threw on my bedtime boxers to cover up. In the few, short steps that it took to reach my dresser, a massive grundy was acquired. Sufficiently picked and underpants in hand, I strode back to the bathroom. Upon arrival, yet another grundy was produced. These were serious grundies I was dealing with here. This is why I question the wear of boxers by millions of men. Are men not plagued with the grunderwear problem? Is my personal tush just sensitive to the deep boxer grundy? Perhaps men have a wider hinder, making them less susceptible. Perhaps some are not, which would explain the creation of boxer-briefs. The world (and by "world" I mean myself) may never know.
The past week has been filled with studying, packing, cleaning, and gallivanting about as the school year comes to an end. It seemed like I was living it from the outside, watching myself. Moments of nothingness were scarce. I can't grasp the fact that I am no longer a freshman in college. I've only been home for five hours and already long to return. We cannot pretend that everyone here has not changed in the past year. Things will not be the same this summer as last. The drastic differences that are sure to be felt scare me. I am only grateful for my renewed/ increased friendship with Teri. That is the only thing held constant during the move. I also do not know if I will be able to handle living at home the whole summer. I am now accustomed to doing what I want, when I want, where I want. The parental restriction and hovering may lead to a problem. In fact, I get along with my mother better when under separate roofs. Let's not even mention the petty things, like the painfully slow internet connection, and minimal television channels. I do look forward to spending some quality, country time however. "You can take the girl out of hicksville, but you can't take the hicksville out of the girl." This has proven true.
Meh. I promise myself a humorous post in the near future.
I, as a now experienced college student, would like to pass on a helpful hint to those of you looking to pass your calculus classes. The Dilemma: The last big calculus exam before the final is quickly approaching, and you, although prepared, are feeling the pressure. The Solution: A simple locked door. You cannot take an exam without somewhere to take it, can you? No. In reality, no one was conniving enough to have done this on purpose, but as I walked to class today, in anticipation of the big exam, I found a group waiting outside the door of the classroom. Since the professor didn't have a key, there were no open, vacant rooms nearby, and too much time was already wasted attempting to track down someone with a key, we were given the exam to complete at home. A take home exam, you say? Indeed. How can I possibly do poorly? I cannot.
I do not understand the need to expectorate one's nasty saliva in an open, public place. Does a person's mouth become so disgusting that they are unable to swallow, or the buildup of saliva begins to cause an overflow, therefore requiring them to spit? I personally do not appreciate the need to dodge spit-globs while walking about. Let's keep our bodily fluids to ourselves, shall we? While on the topic of bodily fluids... I understand that perspiration is a natural fact of life. It is a necessary bodily function. It also, however, often causes discomfort or embarrassment. This is why I sympathize with my professor. As he discussed philosophy in class, raising his arm and resting his hand on his head, he was unaware of the giant pit-stain soiling his shirt beneath his arm. Poor man. He seemed oblivious. It is difficult for a classroom of students to exert their full attention on the lecture of a man shoving the salty fluids excreted by his pores in their faces. When are deodorant companies going to consider the educational damaging affects of perspiration and do something about it? He is an intelligent man, his image tarnish by his sweaty pits. sad
