Tower of Babble
It was NOT my morning. Evidently I have run out of most suitable clothing, so at the very end of my bin was my old pair of urbanoflage pants. I've lost weight since I've last worn them, the velcro fly doesn't crinkle constantly now, so they're not so bad anymore. But the only shirt I could find was handed to me by Ann - my "Now you can't see me" shirt given to me by my loving mother. So I'm wearing two different colors of camouflage today. I'll call it fashionably unfashionable. I couldn't even find the right kind of underwear, and now I'm wearing the style that bisects my fat across my belly button. Noooo, underwear elastic is supposed to go UNDER the fat! I couldn't find a white sock with good elastic, so of course it's trying to migrate into my shoe. I couldn't find my stapler, the stapler on the fridge was empty, and so I had to find staples to put into it for my Theory of Computation homework. And we can forget trying to brush my hair; I couldn't find my brush. Then I fell over twice in a row within a minute on my bike because I have my seat set a little too high, looking like a total dork and making my leg ache. Woo me. I don't even know how I managed to still get to class on time.
I just learned that 30% of our genomes is retroviruses. Eeew. Virus DNA in my geeeenes, noooo. Microbiology and Genetics makes me obsessive about the buggies. It is really weird to think that for every cell of "me", there are ten bacterial cells in my body...and now I am learning that a big portion of genes aren't even mine. Sad Panda.
Now we are talking about the hypoallergenic cat. Don't get your hopes up. I mean, come on now, the protein they're planning to suppress production of is EVERYWHERE in the cat. That couldn't have any bad effects! Whatsoever! Of course not, the cat doesn't need that protein, it was just auxiliary, they don't make it for a reason. So nobody plunk down your two fifty for reservation, like they claim someone is doing once every minute.
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Now I'm in the fishbowl and someone's little kid is dressed up as Snow White. It's cute 'cause she is calling it Cinderella and cannot be convinced otherwise (by me), so I just let her think that. She is talking to me and I can't understand a word. Except here and there. And Cinderella. Except she hasn't seen the movie, it seems, because it is scary. The tulle over her skirt is ripped. There are safety pins on it for no discernible reason. Her father doesn't look like he's actually doing anything, so I wonder what they're doing here. Now she has a ripped off piece of tulle in her hair and is sprawling across the chairs singing while her daddy naps. "You have tulle in your hair," I say. "NO, ORANGE!" she shouts. Now she is calling her tights socks. Her father is sleeping with a baseball cap slung over his eyes.
Yaaaay, I get to go home now.