(no subject)
OK, OK, check this:
Yesterday evening I saw a preview of Memoirs of a Geisha because of which I cried a little and during which I somehow sprained my upper thigh. Afterward, I walked with a friend around Boston Common until my thigh stopped functioning and the cold became uncomfortable. Little did we know that the cold would soon become unbearable.
So we ride the T home and I am too late to buy shampoo at CVS and too lazy to get quarters from BoA to do my laundry. Instead, I head home against the wind's wishes. Once there, I eat three mini-muffins and try to have a conversation with two boys on the first floor about Plato, although everyone thinks I am lame. People think I am more lame because as of three weeks ago I couldn't make that popping noise by pulling my finger out of my mouth. I can now make this noise, I can tell you how inefficient the Andrew stop is at getting one to Target, and I can attest to having one of the worst colds in my life. But I digress.
To continue, I play hearts with the girls in the "study lounge" (a study lounge in the sense that that is the sign on the door, anything other than a study lounge in the sense that we never study there) before I decide to turn in at about 2AM. As is "tradition" (tradition in the sense that we always plan on doing it, not a tradition in the sense it's only been done once), if we all stay up until 6 AM, we go to breakfast at the Busy Bee on Beacon Street. I say, "OK, I have to sleep for at least 4 hours. Wake me up at 6 and I'll go with you."
One of my floormates got a really bad rash on her hands overnight and when she heard my alarm go off at 6AM in the shower, she thought she was having delusions. She gets out and realizes it's my "fucking alarm," which clearly is affecting my sleep very little. So she comes up to my door and deduces - quite rightly - that there is no way I would be able to hear her knock. Thus, she opens my door (I leave it unlocked at night in case I go to the bathroom and forget to bring my keys). I have no recollection of the following exchange, but apparently as soon as she looks at me, I open my eyes and get up to turn off the alarm. The following dialogue (apparently) occurred-
Chess: Are you coming with us to breakfast?
Me: (as I am getting back into bed) Yes.
Chess: Are you - are you sure?
Me: YES. What time are you guys leaving?
Chess: Oh, you know, about now.
Me: (clearly going back to sleep) OKAY.
Chess: Are you going back to sleep?
And then I do the most incomprehensive thing possible. I sit up slightly in bed, put my hand up as if I am pushing her a way, and say, "Just."
That is all I say, that is all I do. Then I wake up past my chemistry lecture, with no shampoo, and I must hunt for the one pair of clean underwear that persisted amongst my wardrobe. I walk outside, and it happens to be a winter wonderland. Then that turns into rain which turns into sleet which turns - in the middle of my core discussion debate quite suddenly and rudely - into a type of precipitation slightly worse than ACID RAIN.
There is no way I am going to the movies tonight, no way I am getting quarters to clean my underwear, no way I am buying shampoo, and no way I am caring about getting to the library tomorrow morning.
And for some reason I am laughing very hard and wondering why I leave my food trash on my desk. Also, I need an exorcist.
Yesterday evening I saw a preview of Memoirs of a Geisha because of which I cried a little and during which I somehow sprained my upper thigh. Afterward, I walked with a friend around Boston Common until my thigh stopped functioning and the cold became uncomfortable. Little did we know that the cold would soon become unbearable.
So we ride the T home and I am too late to buy shampoo at CVS and too lazy to get quarters from BoA to do my laundry. Instead, I head home against the wind's wishes. Once there, I eat three mini-muffins and try to have a conversation with two boys on the first floor about Plato, although everyone thinks I am lame. People think I am more lame because as of three weeks ago I couldn't make that popping noise by pulling my finger out of my mouth. I can now make this noise, I can tell you how inefficient the Andrew stop is at getting one to Target, and I can attest to having one of the worst colds in my life. But I digress.
To continue, I play hearts with the girls in the "study lounge" (a study lounge in the sense that that is the sign on the door, anything other than a study lounge in the sense that we never study there) before I decide to turn in at about 2AM. As is "tradition" (tradition in the sense that we always plan on doing it, not a tradition in the sense it's only been done once), if we all stay up until 6 AM, we go to breakfast at the Busy Bee on Beacon Street. I say, "OK, I have to sleep for at least 4 hours. Wake me up at 6 and I'll go with you."
One of my floormates got a really bad rash on her hands overnight and when she heard my alarm go off at 6AM in the shower, she thought she was having delusions. She gets out and realizes it's my "fucking alarm," which clearly is affecting my sleep very little. So she comes up to my door and deduces - quite rightly - that there is no way I would be able to hear her knock. Thus, she opens my door (I leave it unlocked at night in case I go to the bathroom and forget to bring my keys). I have no recollection of the following exchange, but apparently as soon as she looks at me, I open my eyes and get up to turn off the alarm. The following dialogue (apparently) occurred-
Chess: Are you coming with us to breakfast?
Me: (as I am getting back into bed) Yes.
Chess: Are you - are you sure?
Me: YES. What time are you guys leaving?
Chess: Oh, you know, about now.
Me: (clearly going back to sleep) OKAY.
Chess: Are you going back to sleep?
And then I do the most incomprehensive thing possible. I sit up slightly in bed, put my hand up as if I am pushing her a way, and say, "Just."
That is all I say, that is all I do. Then I wake up past my chemistry lecture, with no shampoo, and I must hunt for the one pair of clean underwear that persisted amongst my wardrobe. I walk outside, and it happens to be a winter wonderland. Then that turns into rain which turns into sleet which turns - in the middle of my core discussion debate quite suddenly and rudely - into a type of precipitation slightly worse than ACID RAIN.
There is no way I am going to the movies tonight, no way I am getting quarters to clean my underwear, no way I am buying shampoo, and no way I am caring about getting to the library tomorrow morning.
And for some reason I am laughing very hard and wondering why I leave my food trash on my desk. Also, I need an exorcist.