You expect some sort of interesting "Title" on 3.5 hours of sleep?!

A tip for all my loser soul-mates out there:
When you get a shipment of books from Amazon (including Wendy's book), and you literally have 6 tests (including four comprehensive finals, with three in one day) over the next two weeks, DO NOT OPEN THE BOX. Because, if you are anything like me, and you haven't read anything besides chemistry, math, and french textbooks for over a month, you will go crazy with BOOK! BOOK! lust, and end up staying up till 5 am reading. Also, you'll end up virtually finishing 3 books in a 12 hour period, and it's really better to savor new books. Appreciate the "new bookness", read only one a day, and doing those things also conveniently gets rid of that 2.5 hours of sleep look (glazed look in eyes, residual drool, funky bed-head, etc).

Although, actually I ended up sleeping in until the time I normally LEAVE for class (thus getting 3.5 hours of sleep, although one hour is in 9 minute increments of sleep), so I only had time to brush my teeth and get dressed. So then I also have that sex-ay no-shower look, and it's a good thing there is only three guys in my french class, and two of them didn't show up, or I'd probably feel even more self-conscious and repulsive. If I were awake enough to give a damn what the living think.

So, summary (because we big huge dorks love giving summaries!):
Don't open shipment of books unless you have:
a) read something that doesn't include the terms ketones, quantitatively, polar coordinate system (and/or trigonometric substitution of integrals), or craindre (to fear) within the last month.
b) you have enough free time to read one or more books without hating yourself the next day/ week/ month, etc.
c) you don't have an early class and/or finals within the next day. Or week. Or two weeks.

Now, I'm off to sleep, rather than finish a lab, read a chapter, relearn half a language, read anything from the last section, or start the horrifying unit worth of math homework (and the test is on Monday).

I'm sure I won't have nightmares.

What with the flippin' and the floppin'.

Today I was walking behind a girl on the way back to the student center. It's pretty chilly today, and she was wearing a teeshirt under a sweater, a pair of jeans and flip flops. Also, a no-doubt ridiculously overpriced crocodile bag. But that's another subject for another day.

What's up with flip-flops? I know for some, they're really comfortable, but if it's cold and your feet are freezing, how comfortable are they then? And you can't even walk fast in them, what with the flipping and the flopping. You have to allow time for the foot slap while your foot is in the air, because if you walk too fast, the sole will flip underneath itself and then your naked heel touches the ground. Which is kind of counter productive to the whole "shoe" thing, since theoretically, your shoe should prevent your foot from touching the ground.

Not to mention the whole in-between-the-toes thing. You have to get a callus, or you can get a blister there. Which means you have to wear flip flops for a while before they are really comfortable, which leads back to the original question, why wear flip flops in winter?

I know they are probably the least expensive shodding item around, but I need to know more. Why?

Now I can have one of those "internet dork" tee-shirts!

Like 99.5% of the population, I’d never met anyone off the internet. Before.

It’s a surreal experience, to say the least. Super awkward too—though maybe that’s just me. Awkward McAwkwardness, that’s what they call me. I’m too damn shy for this shit—I can’t go to a party with 20 people who I do not know. I mean, normally, you know at least one person at a party, right? Someone has to invite you. But then, when you “know” them off the internet, it’s not really the same. Or is that just me?

Then there’s the whole, “Oh, so how do you know so-and-so?” that inevitably comes out when you meet someone new. “Through the internet.” Anyone got a label-maker handy? Hey, make up a label that says “FREAK” and kindly affix it to my forehead, would you? It’ll save time in the future. Thanks.

Really, though, it wasn’t that bad. Just the first hour or so, and then you don’t feel so much like PERSON WHO DOESN'T BELONG. Helps when there’s a drunk person around, they are generally more peculiar than any sober person, even me. I saw someone’s ass. I didn’t know that guys got cellulite. But that’s a real ice-breaker, sharing the view of someone’s ass with someone else, n’est pas?

I got called Cleo more times than I think I’ve ever been called in one evening—and that includes Bob from ye olde church, who I think called me Cleo for the entire year or so that I saw him weekly. But once again, just by one slightly drunken guy. We clearly had a bond—he called me Cleo, I saw his ass, he attempted to kick me in the ass. *choked up* We really shared, ya know? Good times.

Then, being me, I got lost on the way back. I can never go anyplace new without getting lost at least once—I don’t think I shoulda turned onto 64. But at least I got to see that scenic part of Kirkwood with all the little independent shops—I haven’t been through that area since I was 12 or so. And really, you can’t be lost when you’re on Lindbergh—sooner or later, you’ll run into a familiar area.

The moral of the story always comes back to this-- people is people, even if you've never met them.
And maybe that when you hang out regularly with two guys who are 6'6", people always look shorter than you expect, even when you're 5'4".

Yeah, I'm SMOOOOTH, y'all.

**Sade's "Smooth Operator" plays**

As I was entering the computer lab today, I noticed two barn swallows (I think) sitting on one of the light fixtures outside BH tower. I was glad they didn't peck at my head (barn swallows are puny but feisty!), and didn't think of it anymore.

So, after I finish my paper, I come back out and notice what I think is an injured bird, laying on the grass. I stop about six feet away and say, "Oh, are you okay?" (No, I didn't expect the bird to answer... I talk to animals, okay? Shut up!) The bird doesn't answer me (shocking!) but keeps flopping around on the ground every few seconds, and it looks like it's wing might be broken, since it won't bend it.

**singing, "Oh she's a Smmooooooooth operator..."**

Then the bird stops flopping around, and I realize that it wasn't one, but two birds. Together. In spring. You get what I'm saying? They were engaging in a little somethin' somethin'.

**"Smooth Operator" abruptly stops**

And I was watching. I'm a bird pervert. Well, maybe not, but how smooth am I to watch birds getting nookie, have NO idea till after the fact? Sooooo smooth.

I am such a loser.

**Beck's "Loser" starts playing**

Ah, now that's more like it!

I-d-i-o-t and that spells idiot!

You know that saying, “She’s too dumb to come in from the rain.”? That officially applies to me, now. Yesterday I went for a run. In a down pour. While it was cold and windy. And I had cramps. I ran for 20 minutes straight though! Admittedly, a turtle could’ve passed me easily, but I did it!

Today, I am that girl who’s too dumb to wear a coat. I knew it was cold this morning; I had to turn on that little heater in my room. I knew the high today was supposed to be 59 degrees. I knew I probably wouldn’t get out of school until 10 pm tonight. I knew that we were expecting rain and scattered thunderstorms all day. I knew that the semi-sheer double-layered long-sleeved tee-shirt I was planning on wearing is too sheer for cold weather. So what did I do? I put on the semi-sheer double-layered long-sleeved tee-shirt, without a coat, and headed out the door. It’s cold and windy now, and doomed to get worse all day.

I am officially an idiot.

But an idiot that can run for 20 minutes!