I feel like my header is lying because I haven't actually spoken much about college at all (or boobies, for that matter, but if you take that promise very seriously prepare to be disappointed). Well, I'm about to rectify that!
Being that I am in my second year in college, I feel like I am totally qualified to be considered an expert on the subject, so I'm compiling a list of college survival tips. And the first one is right here! Are you shaking with anticipation yet?
If you're already in college you're probably well into the first few weeks of your school year (in fact, if you're like me, you've probably already had your first taste [or reminder] of that oh-so-bitter little treat called the college exam), so these tips might just be a repeat of things you've already learned on your own. If you're in high school, then you probably need these tips more because having blueprints to your anti-squirrel fortress will put you way ahead of your peers (but not ahead of the squirrels. Those little bastards are always prepared. Always.). Preparedness is key! If you're out of college or never went to college then these tips are of no use to you and I don't know why you'd be studying them because you are not going to be quizzed. Not you, high school kids. You are definitely getting a quiz.
College Survival Tip #1: Do Not Underestimate Campus Wildlife
You may be looking at this first tip and wondering why I would find this important enough to put as tip numero uno. Surely, you may be thinking, there are more important tips that should be placed before this one, like how to steal textbooks without getting caught or how to still look sexy while puking up your tequila shots. And if you think that then you've already lost.
I'm mainly going to focus on squirrels here because the actual species you might encounter on your average campus will vary from region to region, but squirrels are evil, adaptable little bastards, and where there are trees, there are squirrels.
Now, some of you who haven't yet had encounters with campus squirrels might be scoffing a bit right now. Surely, you may think, I'm just some city gal who hasn't had much contact with squirrels. Which couldn't be more far from the truth; not only am I from a tiny rural village (that's right, "village", we're too small to even be called a "town"), but I've met some city squirrels and they are serious business. I know squirrels. But I've begun to think that campus squirrels are a breed of their own.
The first thing you need to understand about campus squirrels (and any campus wildlife, really) is that they've become desensitized to people. Chances are, they're part of a long line of campus critters who were born on campus, left their offspring on campus, and will die on campus. This ain't their first rodeo.
If you read that and thought "Oh, so they aren't afraid of people? Cool! Does that mean I can just walk up to them and feed them out of my hand or give them a loving pat on the head?" you might as well drop out of college right now because this kind of weakness will not be tolerated. It's true that campus animals aren't afraid of people, but that doesn't mean they're docile. It just means that they aren't afraid of people. Meaning, if you fuck with them they won't scurry away while barking non-threateningly. They will turn around and shank your ass.
There was this boy just minding his own business and walking to class when a squirrel who had a nest in the tree he was walking by threw an acorn at him. This happens all the time, and most people just sort of ignore it, but this kid decided that "Hey, I'm not gonna let some dumb animal make a mockery of me!". So he picked the acorn up and threw it back. End of story, right? A squirrel, only a small fraction of the size of a fully-grown human, would naturally just scurry higher up the tree and continue barking without risking its own safety, wouldn't it?
No, it wouldn't. This squirrel ran down the tree, chased that motherfucker down, and bit his ass. Like, literally took a chomp out of his rear end. Why? Because that squirrel wasn't afraid of that dude and it wasn't gonna take his shit.
The difference between you and a campus animal is that you only reside there part of the year. Even if you have an apartment in town, your home is off-campus. But the squirrel doesn't leave. Its home is right here, where you walk to class, where you eat, and where you occasionally throw up out the window. You are the invader and you are the enemy. You reside here only because they permit you to reside here.
So respect them, and maybe they won't rise up and murder you.
But squirrels aren't the only animals that make campuses their homes. So, before you go to school, make sure you know a thing or two about the critters you're going to be sharing your space with ("critters" being "animal species", not "frat boys" in this instance). For example, on my campus we have a pretty sizable deer population (meaning I run into them when I'm walking to class through the campus woods every morning), which isn't a big deal for me. But some of the city folk who come down here aren't quite as familiar with a little thing we like to call "rutting season".
And, if you have a campus lake, for the love of god don't eat any fish you catch out of there. Campus lakes are pretty much 90% beer and pee and the other 10% pure motor oil. Plus, college kids dump their unwanted pet fish in there all the time. They once found a piranha in our lake on campus. True story.
In conclusion, understand your enemy. Don't feed, pet, pester, or eat the campus wildlife, and we might just all make it out of here alive.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Can't Believe it Took Four Entries Before I Meantioned Blowjobs
Cody has to write an English paper about our generation's definition of love as evidenced through our popular culture (which makes me hate him for getting to write fun things while I have to study [read: "pretend to study while writing a blog and reading webcomics"] for a smelly chem test that is smelly), and he left his document open (with nothing written on it. Shame on you, Cody, you should be more like your hardworking girlfriend who never slacks off or puts off things until the last minute!), so I took the liberty to insert this little quip:
"Love is like a lovely sea of loving love. I love my girlfriend. She's part of our culture, right? She has a blog now so I think that makes her media too. She defines love as hitting me when I piss her off. Which is a lot. I love her a whole lot and I want to buy her a puppy. And that is what I think love is. The end."
Then he deleted it and wrote "Blowjobs". Which is only one word and didn't even have any punctuation so I'm pretty sure that wouldn't fly. Honestly, it's like he doesn't want to pass English. So I helped him again:
"Love is not caring when someone farts on your penis. And not getting mad when they don't give you blowjobs even when you really want them.
Love is what I feel when I look at Magic cards. Love, and the beautiful sensation of ejaculation."
Cody's got this shizz in the bag. But I don't want to be greedy with my awesome wisdom, so I thought of some more definitions for love. Feel free to use these on English projects or Valentines cards or even leave them as saucy literature in bathroom stalls. But if you do that prepared to get sued cause I am totally copyrighting this genius and making bank.
"Love is prestige classing."
"Love is still being willing to play Magic: The Gathering with someone even though they hand you your ass on a silver platter every time."
"Love is paying rapt attention to someone while they rant for hours about boring things you don't actually have any invested interest in."
"Love is when the people at Jimmy Johns give you the bread ball they scoop out of the loaf and only laugh at you/wonder how high you are a little bit."
"Love is not being afraid to ask for the bread ball."
"Love is taking out the garbage after I just puked in it."
"Love is doing sweet things without expecting blowjobs in return."
"Love is sometimes giving unexpected blowjobs. Sometimes."
"Love is pretending to give a shit about Secret Life of the American Teenager."
I'm like the most romantic person on the planet. Forget zoology, I should totes go work for Hallmark.
"Love is like a lovely sea of loving love. I love my girlfriend. She's part of our culture, right? She has a blog now so I think that makes her media too. She defines love as hitting me when I piss her off. Which is a lot. I love her a whole lot and I want to buy her a puppy. And that is what I think love is. The end."
Then he deleted it and wrote "Blowjobs". Which is only one word and didn't even have any punctuation so I'm pretty sure that wouldn't fly. Honestly, it's like he doesn't want to pass English. So I helped him again:
"Love is not caring when someone farts on your penis. And not getting mad when they don't give you blowjobs even when you really want them.
Love is what I feel when I look at Magic cards. Love, and the beautiful sensation of ejaculation."
Cody's got this shizz in the bag. But I don't want to be greedy with my awesome wisdom, so I thought of some more definitions for love. Feel free to use these on English projects or Valentines cards or even leave them as saucy literature in bathroom stalls. But if you do that prepared to get sued cause I am totally copyrighting this genius and making bank.
"Love is prestige classing."
"Love is still being willing to play Magic: The Gathering with someone even though they hand you your ass on a silver platter every time."
"Love is paying rapt attention to someone while they rant for hours about boring things you don't actually have any invested interest in."
"Love is when the people at Jimmy Johns give you the bread ball they scoop out of the loaf and only laugh at you/wonder how high you are a little bit."
"Love is not being afraid to ask for the bread ball."
"Love is taking out the garbage after I just puked in it."
"Love is doing sweet things without expecting blowjobs in return."
"Love is sometimes giving unexpected blowjobs. Sometimes."
"Love is pretending to give a shit about Secret Life of the American Teenager."
I'm like the most romantic person on the planet. Forget zoology, I should totes go work for Hallmark.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Eight Fucked-Up Things I Thought/Did as a Kid
If an adult had the worldview of the average child I think he or she would be considered a sociopath, or at least a few crayons short of a Crayola 24-pack. When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend named Sister Sally. I don't remember a damn thing about her but apparently my parents remember every little detail of our imaginary friendship. Every day I would tell them something new and crazy about Sister Sally--that she had grown new heads or had laser vision or that she had told me to kill the president to please Nerull, god of the underworld. I'm sure they thought it was all cute and normal but had they been responsible parents they would have given me an exorcism just to be safe. I think Sister Sally eventually moved to Milwaukee. Which I'm pretty sure is code for the Infinite Layers of the Abyss.
Anyway, I was mulling it over today, and I compiled a list of really fucked-up things that I thought/did as a child. Bear in mind that I was literally afraid of absolutely everything as a kid (Cody always makes fun of me for having never seen Neverending Story as a kid because I was too terrified of the dragon on the box) so most of this stuff is a list of totally irrational things that I was terrified of.
1. I thought that teenage pregnancy was awesome.
Me and my childhood bestie used to play pretend a lot, and one of our favorite pretend scenarios was "teenagers", in which we pretended to be, you guessed it, teenagers. Because being a teenager was like being a super hero to us. But wait, there's more! We liked to be teenagers who had had kids out of wedlock with our pretend boyfriends (who, presumably, paid pretend child support). Our logic? Our pretend selves had kids early because we didn't want to be old when we got to be grandparents. True story.
2. I convinced all of the kids on my block that the Boogeyman lived in my basement.
Being children themselves, they of course believed me. But then one of the kids on my street had to ruin everything and tell me to prove it. Left with no options and having by now even convinced myself that the Boogeyman resided in my basement, I informed everyone that the Boogeyman was a shapeshifter who took the form of my cat, Tipsy. I don't remember if they believed me or not but I don't think anyone really wanted to play with my cat after that so my mission was probably a success.
3. I thought that my toys would come to life in the middle of the night and murder me in my sleep if I didn't treat them well enough.
Most kids probably thought Toy Story was a fun, enjoyable movie about the strong bond of friendship. But I saw it for what it really was: a warning. Instead of thinking that it was just a cartoon and not real, I became convinced that toys really did come to life when you weren't looking...and I assumed that if they had the power to move and speak, they had the power to kill. I took really good care of my toys after that.
4. I thought that, when my ears were ringing, it was aliens trying to communicate with me.
Your guess is as good as mine as to where this idea came from, but if there was any reason to be terrified of anything, it was good enough for me.
5. I refused to sleep under anything thinner than a comforter, even in the sweltering Illinois summer.
The idea here was that thick blankets kept the monsters that lurked in the dark corners of my room from getting me. But thin blankets were too weak.
6. I thought that the term "balls" referred to boobs. Therefore, girls had balls and boys didn't.
I didn't know what testicles were till embarrassingly late into my development, mostly because I went to a Lutheran school until eighth grade and our sex ed class consisted of "The Bible says don't have sex. The end."
7. I thought that I was capable of murdering my whole family.
I had this neurotic fear that if I didn't act right/didn't care about my family enough/played with dangerous objects that something terrible would happen and all of them would die and it would be my fault. This is the sort of mental disorder most people would seek professional help for but it just seemed a totally legit fear for me as a kid.
8. I thought that "prostitute" was a worthwhile profession, and wanted to be one when I grew up.
Seeing as I was a little kid and didn't know what sex was, I thought that a prostitute was just someone guys paid to go on a date with and pay attention to them. That seemed really awesome to me, because even when I was little having a job where people threw money at me just for giving them the pleasure of my company seemed like pretty much the raddest thing ever. My work ethic was terrible as a child. Some things never change.
Anyway, I was mulling it over today, and I compiled a list of really fucked-up things that I thought/did as a child. Bear in mind that I was literally afraid of absolutely everything as a kid (Cody always makes fun of me for having never seen Neverending Story as a kid because I was too terrified of the dragon on the box) so most of this stuff is a list of totally irrational things that I was terrified of.
1. I thought that teenage pregnancy was awesome.
Me and my childhood bestie used to play pretend a lot, and one of our favorite pretend scenarios was "teenagers", in which we pretended to be, you guessed it, teenagers. Because being a teenager was like being a super hero to us. But wait, there's more! We liked to be teenagers who had had kids out of wedlock with our pretend boyfriends (who, presumably, paid pretend child support). Our logic? Our pretend selves had kids early because we didn't want to be old when we got to be grandparents. True story.
2. I convinced all of the kids on my block that the Boogeyman lived in my basement.
Being children themselves, they of course believed me. But then one of the kids on my street had to ruin everything and tell me to prove it. Left with no options and having by now even convinced myself that the Boogeyman resided in my basement, I informed everyone that the Boogeyman was a shapeshifter who took the form of my cat, Tipsy. I don't remember if they believed me or not but I don't think anyone really wanted to play with my cat after that so my mission was probably a success.
3. I thought that my toys would come to life in the middle of the night and murder me in my sleep if I didn't treat them well enough.
Most kids probably thought Toy Story was a fun, enjoyable movie about the strong bond of friendship. But I saw it for what it really was: a warning. Instead of thinking that it was just a cartoon and not real, I became convinced that toys really did come to life when you weren't looking...and I assumed that if they had the power to move and speak, they had the power to kill. I took really good care of my toys after that.
4. I thought that, when my ears were ringing, it was aliens trying to communicate with me.
Your guess is as good as mine as to where this idea came from, but if there was any reason to be terrified of anything, it was good enough for me.
5. I refused to sleep under anything thinner than a comforter, even in the sweltering Illinois summer.
The idea here was that thick blankets kept the monsters that lurked in the dark corners of my room from getting me. But thin blankets were too weak.
6. I thought that the term "balls" referred to boobs. Therefore, girls had balls and boys didn't.
I didn't know what testicles were till embarrassingly late into my development, mostly because I went to a Lutheran school until eighth grade and our sex ed class consisted of "The Bible says don't have sex. The end."
7. I thought that I was capable of murdering my whole family.
I had this neurotic fear that if I didn't act right/didn't care about my family enough/played with dangerous objects that something terrible would happen and all of them would die and it would be my fault. This is the sort of mental disorder most people would seek professional help for but it just seemed a totally legit fear for me as a kid.
8. I thought that "prostitute" was a worthwhile profession, and wanted to be one when I grew up.
Seeing as I was a little kid and didn't know what sex was, I thought that a prostitute was just someone guys paid to go on a date with and pay attention to them. That seemed really awesome to me, because even when I was little having a job where people threw money at me just for giving them the pleasure of my company seemed like pretty much the raddest thing ever. My work ethic was terrible as a child. Some things never change.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Damn this Horse is High. It's Like...a High Horse or Something.
So I was on yahoo checking my email when I saw this article on the little "Today" box (otherwise known as the "black hole of doom" for its uncanny ability to suck me in no matter how stupid/boring/totally divergent from my interests the article displayed is, and its ability to completely make me forget how stupid/boring/totally divergent from my interests the last article I got sucked into was...and its unwavering conviction that absolutely hilarious videos of cats chasing things are, in fact, news). Aside from the fact that the article should have really only featured one question you should ask yourself before getting back with your ex (Did you guys ever break up? If yes, then all signs point to no.), I didn't find too much issue with the advice printed within. What did irk me, though, is that the article assumed that the person sitting alone, and most likely eating double mocha fudge ice cream with a shovel, contemplating the decision to take back the ex or not was female.
Now, I get it, I really do. The target audience of these sorts of articles is female (hence why I was so quickly dragged in--hypocrisy, thy name is Keisha) and they aren't exactly being very economical by pandering to anyone other than that audience, but, by god, if I have a reason to bitch about anything I'm gonna bitch like my life depends on it!
What always grinds my gears about dating advice books, movies, TV shows, magazine articles, blogs, etc., is that the vast majority of them seem to assume that women are the incompetent ones. Men are simple, drooling slobs who only want to get their respective D's wet, and it's women who come in with their bleeding vaginae and their sissy emotions and their overthinking brains and make complicated messes of relationships. Why, if women could only think like men and not like women, then all relationship troubles would be solved!
What pisses me off about this is not just the fact that it's insulting to both women (for calling them giant sacs of drama and tears) and men (for being compared to a pack of unneutered, untrained dogs), but the fact that it puts all the responsibility of shitty relationships on women. Your man didn't treat you well? Well, obviously it was because you had sex with him too soon/didn't read his signals well enough/don't have enough self-confidence and therefore allow yourself to be treated like shit/didn't train your dog well enough. I mean, with the unrealistic relationship expectations you had in your head, it's no wonder your man was as worthless as a giant turd (and your relationship decomposed twice as fast)! Learn how to present yourself better so that you can attract the right kind of man, girl!
Don't get me wrong, I think that a lot of relationships fail because people have unrealistic expectations, and I do think that self-confidence is important and that if you keep attracting shitty mates then maybe you should take some time to do some reflection on why you only seem to be attracting the sort of person who's been squeezed through a rectum first. But I don't think it's an exclusively female thing. Newsflash: guys can be clueless, unconfident, and emotional too. And they can have a habit of attracting bad relationships the same way women can.
Case and point, this is the conversation I overheard while at the dining hall earlier today (I'm paraphrasing because I have a memory the average squirrel would pity...and yes, I may have eavesdropped on a private conversation. Don't judge me.):
Guy (who kinda looked a bit like Ross from Friends and was just as dorky and clueless, so I'm going to call his love interest Rachel and his female friend Monica): I just don't understand where I stand with Rachel.
Monica: What's going on?
Ross: Well, I tried to talk to her again, and she told me that she doesn't want a relationship right now. I just don't get it. She acts like she likes me and everything and I really want to be with her.
(Eavesdropper's note: the key word here is "again". Meaning, this wasn't the first time she'd totally shot this poor sap down.)
They started talking about some other things that I don't really remember because a belligerent blind guy started making a scene right next to where I was sitting (ah, dining halls...), but the moral of the story is that dudes are just as hopeless as girls. No matter what your gender is, the sentence "I just don't want a relationship right now" translates into "I just don't want a relationship right now...with you. And I probably won't. Ever. But I like the attention you give me so I'm gonna keep feeding you false hope so that you'll stick around, kay?" about 9 times out of 10. And come next weekend the same guy will probably be sitting in the same dining hall with the same platonic friend whining about how Rachel was macking up on some other guy at a party and gave him her number and he just doesn't get it because she said she didn't want a relationship and WHY WOULD SHE PLAY WITH MY EMOTIONS LIKE THAT???
Point is, being pathetic and clueless and emotional when it comes to relationships isn't about gender. For every girl you've seen sobbing into her moose tracks while her girlfriends pat her back and tell her to forget him because "he's just a dick" there's a guy sobbing big man-tears into a Miller Light while his buddies tell him to man up and forget her because "she's just a slut".
And if you don't believe me, talk to Cody about his romantic history sometime. A big ol' ball of tragedy, that one.
Now, I get it, I really do. The target audience of these sorts of articles is female (hence why I was so quickly dragged in--hypocrisy, thy name is Keisha) and they aren't exactly being very economical by pandering to anyone other than that audience, but, by god, if I have a reason to bitch about anything I'm gonna bitch like my life depends on it!
What always grinds my gears about dating advice books, movies, TV shows, magazine articles, blogs, etc., is that the vast majority of them seem to assume that women are the incompetent ones. Men are simple, drooling slobs who only want to get their respective D's wet, and it's women who come in with their bleeding vaginae and their sissy emotions and their overthinking brains and make complicated messes of relationships. Why, if women could only think like men and not like women, then all relationship troubles would be solved!
What pisses me off about this is not just the fact that it's insulting to both women (for calling them giant sacs of drama and tears) and men (for being compared to a pack of unneutered, untrained dogs), but the fact that it puts all the responsibility of shitty relationships on women. Your man didn't treat you well? Well, obviously it was because you had sex with him too soon/didn't read his signals well enough/don't have enough self-confidence and therefore allow yourself to be treated like shit/didn't train your dog well enough. I mean, with the unrealistic relationship expectations you had in your head, it's no wonder your man was as worthless as a giant turd (and your relationship decomposed twice as fast)! Learn how to present yourself better so that you can attract the right kind of man, girl!
Don't get me wrong, I think that a lot of relationships fail because people have unrealistic expectations, and I do think that self-confidence is important and that if you keep attracting shitty mates then maybe you should take some time to do some reflection on why you only seem to be attracting the sort of person who's been squeezed through a rectum first. But I don't think it's an exclusively female thing. Newsflash: guys can be clueless, unconfident, and emotional too. And they can have a habit of attracting bad relationships the same way women can.
Case and point, this is the conversation I overheard while at the dining hall earlier today (I'm paraphrasing because I have a memory the average squirrel would pity...and yes, I may have eavesdropped on a private conversation. Don't judge me.):
Guy (who kinda looked a bit like Ross from Friends and was just as dorky and clueless, so I'm going to call his love interest Rachel and his female friend Monica): I just don't understand where I stand with Rachel.
Monica: What's going on?
Ross: Well, I tried to talk to her again, and she told me that she doesn't want a relationship right now. I just don't get it. She acts like she likes me and everything and I really want to be with her.
(Eavesdropper's note: the key word here is "again". Meaning, this wasn't the first time she'd totally shot this poor sap down.)
They started talking about some other things that I don't really remember because a belligerent blind guy started making a scene right next to where I was sitting (ah, dining halls...), but the moral of the story is that dudes are just as hopeless as girls. No matter what your gender is, the sentence "I just don't want a relationship right now" translates into "I just don't want a relationship right now...with you. And I probably won't. Ever. But I like the attention you give me so I'm gonna keep feeding you false hope so that you'll stick around, kay?" about 9 times out of 10. And come next weekend the same guy will probably be sitting in the same dining hall with the same platonic friend whining about how Rachel was macking up on some other guy at a party and gave him her number and he just doesn't get it because she said she didn't want a relationship and WHY WOULD SHE PLAY WITH MY EMOTIONS LIKE THAT???
Point is, being pathetic and clueless and emotional when it comes to relationships isn't about gender. For every girl you've seen sobbing into her moose tracks while her girlfriends pat her back and tell her to forget him because "he's just a dick" there's a guy sobbing big man-tears into a Miller Light while his buddies tell him to man up and forget her because "she's just a slut".
And if you don't believe me, talk to Cody about his romantic history sometime. A big ol' ball of tragedy, that one.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Only Writing Posts After Midnight is Clearly the Key to Inner Genius
Have you ever done something that you felt good about at the time only to return to it later and realize that now you've become a neurotic shell of the person you once were and nothing that you did seems right and your life is a failure? Because that's what I felt like when I woke up and realized that I had started a blog.
It's not the idea of having a blog that had me sniveling in a dark corner in fear of the crushing defeat sure to come, but rather the idea that I had the audacity to think that I have anything of any value to say about anything. And no one will read my blarg and everyone will hate me and then the inner emo kid that I buried so very deep inside me after high school will reemerge like some kind of depressing, malformed moth. And then I'll listen to songs about heartache and pain and Cody will make fun of me and I'll tell him to shut the hell up because HE JUST DOESN'T UNDERSTAND MY PAIN. And then I'll drop out of college to find myself. Which translates into moving back into my parents' house and working at Wal-Mart and lashing out at the system through poetic quips on my Facebook statuses which relate consumerism to drowning in pools of blood and sorrow. Is that what you want from me, world? Is it??
But then I went out and picked up trash at a nature preserve for three hours. And it was awesome. And I got a free T-shirt (which I am wearing right now without pants because I am an American cowboy and I do what I want). And the people we were doing it for were super appreciative and nice and awesome and they didn't give a shit if I was clever or funny or worth paying attention to. All they cared about was that I was willing to pick up garbage in the sweltering heat for a few hours in exchange for a free T-shirt and a banana. And I think that makes me feel better about myself than readership on my blog ever will.
I'm not promising that I won't eventually become a big ol' ball of insecurity whose feelings of self-worth are completely tethered to pageviews. In fact, I'm pretty much gonna guarantee that that will happen. But there are more important things out there.
This post wasn't very silly and I'm not sure how to end it on a note that isn't all "let's hold hands and sing kumbaya" so I'm gonna go to my default and quote Cody:
"If you were a pile of poop, and I were a dog, I'd totally roll around in you."
Too true, Cody. Too true.
It's not the idea of having a blog that had me sniveling in a dark corner in fear of the crushing defeat sure to come, but rather the idea that I had the audacity to think that I have anything of any value to say about anything. And no one will read my blarg and everyone will hate me and then the inner emo kid that I buried so very deep inside me after high school will reemerge like some kind of depressing, malformed moth. And then I'll listen to songs about heartache and pain and Cody will make fun of me and I'll tell him to shut the hell up because HE JUST DOESN'T UNDERSTAND MY PAIN. And then I'll drop out of college to find myself. Which translates into moving back into my parents' house and working at Wal-Mart and lashing out at the system through poetic quips on my Facebook statuses which relate consumerism to drowning in pools of blood and sorrow. Is that what you want from me, world? Is it??
But then I went out and picked up trash at a nature preserve for three hours. And it was awesome. And I got a free T-shirt (which I am wearing right now without pants because I am an American cowboy and I do what I want). And the people we were doing it for were super appreciative and nice and awesome and they didn't give a shit if I was clever or funny or worth paying attention to. All they cared about was that I was willing to pick up garbage in the sweltering heat for a few hours in exchange for a free T-shirt and a banana. And I think that makes me feel better about myself than readership on my blog ever will.
I'm not promising that I won't eventually become a big ol' ball of insecurity whose feelings of self-worth are completely tethered to pageviews. In fact, I'm pretty much gonna guarantee that that will happen. But there are more important things out there.
This post wasn't very silly and I'm not sure how to end it on a note that isn't all "let's hold hands and sing kumbaya" so I'm gonna go to my default and quote Cody:
"If you were a pile of poop, and I were a dog, I'd totally roll around in you."
Too true, Cody. Too true.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Cody is Playing Music with Baby Sounds in It and I'm not Sure What to Make of That
My name is Keisha and I'm in college. And I have boobs. Just to get that out of the way.
Cody is my boyfriend. He talks about poop a lot.
That's pretty much all you need to know.
I'm writing this blog mostly because I'm a science major and I don't get to write stuff that isn't about isomolarity. And because I like to sometimes think that I'm sort of amusing in a how-can-someone-be-that-socially-inept-and-still-manage-to-function-in-society kind of way. I'll say that I'll talk about college-y things and the meaning of life but it'll all probably devolve into dick jokes in the end anyway so I don't know why I should bother.
I don't really know how to end this post gracefully, so I'm just going to make a list of Stupid Things Cody Wanted to Name My Blog:
Poopstick
The Quiche (it's a pun, see? Cause my name is Keisha. And I hate being called Keish. And I also hate quiche. Clearly you just don't understand the brilliance.)
Keisha's Korner (it's cute because I spelled "corner" with a "k")
Poopbutt
My Boyfriend's a Dick
Poop Korner
Keisha Stick (he wasn't even trying anymore at this point)
The Dusty Pickle
Something about velociraptors
The Desert Fox (which is a move he does where he pretends to be a sweet boyfriend and put his arm around my shoulder and then grabs my boob instead)
There were more but I sort of tuned him out after a while. I still nodded encouragingly, though, because it's important to make them feel loved and supported even when they're failing miserably. And that's why I'm an awesome girlfriend.
Cody is my boyfriend. He talks about poop a lot.
That's pretty much all you need to know.
I'm writing this blog mostly because I'm a science major and I don't get to write stuff that isn't about isomolarity. And because I like to sometimes think that I'm sort of amusing in a how-can-someone-be-that-socially-inept-and-still-manage-to-function-in-society kind of way. I'll say that I'll talk about college-y things and the meaning of life but it'll all probably devolve into dick jokes in the end anyway so I don't know why I should bother.
I don't really know how to end this post gracefully, so I'm just going to make a list of Stupid Things Cody Wanted to Name My Blog:
Poopstick
The Quiche (it's a pun, see? Cause my name is Keisha. And I hate being called Keish. And I also hate quiche. Clearly you just don't understand the brilliance.)
Keisha's Korner (it's cute because I spelled "corner" with a "k")
Poopbutt
My Boyfriend's a Dick
Poop Korner
Keisha Stick (he wasn't even trying anymore at this point)
The Dusty Pickle
Something about velociraptors
The Desert Fox (which is a move he does where he pretends to be a sweet boyfriend and put his arm around my shoulder and then grabs my boob instead)
There were more but I sort of tuned him out after a while. I still nodded encouragingly, though, because it's important to make them feel loved and supported even when they're failing miserably. And that's why I'm an awesome girlfriend.
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