I’ve noticed it takes twice as long to get up the stairs of my dorm as it does to get down.  There has GOT to be a metaphor there.

::Bonus glimpse into my mental state:: I’m somewhere in the basement, playing mind games with the Laundry Troll, the elevator is out of order, I’m out of quarters, and I’m trying like Velma without her glasses to find the staircase.

Segues are for squares.

Aware of the public nature of a blog (almost 100 total viewers! Tell your friends.) and the prying, humorless eyes of future potential employers, keeping this blog at least PG-13 has been a challenge.   I haven’t used the token one f-bomb you get in a PG-13 movie yet either, I’m saving it for something major, stay tuned. My point is that college has done to my vocabulary what South Park has done to cartoons; made it tasteless, unfunny, crappily animated, annoying as hell, and unnecessary in every situation.  Actually that’s just South Park, the fungal infection scraped from the bottom of comedy and animated by a 5 year old with two lazy eyes and a binge drinking problem.  Not to mention the voice acting done by a chain smoking little person with chalk for teeth. That tirade aside, my day-to-day conversations with my roommate have the eloquence of a pirate giving a speech whilst dying of dysentery. Racquetball becomes a steady stream of expletives, briefly punctuated by the sound of the ball hitting the wall.  That puts me in an awkward place at the dinner table with my family.

I’m in a really hoighty toighty mood vocabulary-wise at the moment. I’m going to go before I grow a wispy pencil mustache and a beret.

[expletive deleted]ly yours,


I feel like this is the tone I just set for this blog. Also? AWWWWRH!! :D