Actual Conversation

ME: Could you help me put risers on my bed?

PAUL: Sure... Tomorrow? Could we do it tomorrow, does it have to be today?
ME: pouty That's what I thought.
PAUL: Could I at least finish eating first?
ME: Ok. Goes into bedroom. Clanking sounds.

PAUL: Just wait! I'll help!
ME: I'm just changing. clank. thump. pant.
PAUL: What are you doing in there?
ME: I'm just changing my pants.
PAUL: Did you just take your hammer and maglite in there with you?
ME: Grunt. smash. Crap. Ok. Nothing's going on, don't worry!

PAUL: Gets up to come make sure I'm not dead You okay?
ME: I'm Done! Come look at the freakish bed!
PAUL: What the did you do??

My bed, which used to be a very low 5 inches or so off the ground, now has my bed risers on. It is now like, waist high. MUAHAHAHA. I am not super positive how stable it is, but it seems okay.

You make me [sic]

In my trollings of the internet to find a suitable Nature Oriented Religion for one of my final essays, I found this WikiAnswers gem:

Q: What was Chumash religion?
A: duh its so obvious. they just belive in "magic" to heal. and other worlds and stuff. Look in the library. ull c.

It took me longer than it should have to realize that the "ull c." was not some type of copyright code but rather idiot-speak for "you'll see". If I had any kind of essay-writing buzz, this could have killed it. Or perhaps filled me with some kind of misguided superiority. Maybe not so misguided. Just superiority.
In similar but also quite tangential news; I've always wanted to get one of these for someone but I never know for whom or which one, since after awhile the funny might wear thin and just become depressing.

*Angst!* *Sadness*

Paul and I were emo kids for Halloween. This is just a little preview. We did pretty well, if I do say so myself. Ratty black wigs cut in angles, too much colorful makeup, black clothes with tacky neon accessories, angsty band shirts, and sad/troubled/deeply misunderstood expressions on our faces.
Pictures available on request.

Adventures in Male Cooking

Sometimes gentlemen seem to make decisions that, although obviously following some version of logic, certainly don't seem to make sense to the untrained eye. This afternoon Paul proposes that he make eggs for lunch. Sure. Great. Particularly since he recently filled out his kitchenware, and among other things he bought a pan accessory for poaching eggs. I was suspicious about his knowledge of the tool because I had seen weird burnt stuff left on the pan when it was left in the sink before. Lo and behold, I came over to find that rather than sitting in a pan full of water, the egg poaching apparatus was laid directly on the burner. Though they were a bit tough, the eggs turned out fine. Next time I will probably be giving a poaching tutorial.

Today I....

Made an oil change appointment.
Laughed in class. Along with everyone else.
Watched a sad romantic movie.
Made rice krispie treats and ate them warm out of the pot.
All of them.
I put up shelves. With a drill!
The closet is starting to take shape.
I cut my hair. The long braid is now hanging on the wall. Heh.

Cleaning Channel

While I clean, I like to have something running in the background. Gilmore Girls has been done to death, so has to have some extended time to rest between viewings. Lately I've been watching a trashy treasure by the name of Sex and the City. The benefits? Some really adorable pieces of clothing that make me want to re-vamp the wardrobe when I get into cash. A downside? Aforementioned cute single items are placed with eachother in ridiculous and sometimes atrocious ways. There's the occasional good outfit (usually on Charlotte, who almost always at least manages to have a blandly acceptable ensemble) but for the most part it looks like a blind or possibly malicious anti-fashion group runs the costume department on set.

In other news, without a washer/dryer, I have started washing clothes in the bathtub. I went to the laundromat once. It ate ALL MY MONEY. Well, about 7 dollars. It was ridiculous. Now fancy things like rented washing machines are only for big obnoxious things; comforters, jeans, towels -- stuff it would wear me out to attempt to stomp into cleanliness.
Also a pizza guy thought I was British. Not because I had some kind of unintentional accent but because I very college-ly have a huge British flag hanging in the living room. And he was very surprised to find that Sarah and I (who ordered pizza at 1am) were neither high nor inebriated.

Things That Are Tacky and/or Trashy pt.1

Animal print:

When used sparingly, it can be fun. On some people. However on most people, and/or when used more often than one uses the tredmill that you got and swore you would use but it is such a pain to drag out from under the bed and unfold and by the time you do there's only five minutes before you have to go to work and then it just sits there for a week and a half awkwardly in the way but you can't put it away until you use it and then you will have gotten it out for nothing and yet all that happens is it gathers paraphernalia that people are too lazy to put away but want to remember like unmatched orphan socks and dirty coffee cups when the sink is too far away and that sweater you spilled the coffee on and needed a place to lay it out so the spray n' wash has time to really soak in, then the animal print is clearly a mistake. Look at your closet. If there is enough animal print in there that you could wear an outfit entirely made out of animal print, then you have too much. If you can wear an animal print ensamble and still have pieces left over, you are probably a hooker. If any of it is in unnatural colours, you probably had a very rough childhood.

Also see: Faux Fur

Exceptions: Drag Queens (They have enough flair to pull off pretty much anything.)