Saturday, June 9, 2012

womp. the repentiles are near.

This is excellent advice.
(I think. You see, it's advice about how to deal with women. And that's just always tricky. Women are hard for other women to deal with. Why? Because honestly, every single situation is one of those "I'm d-mned if I do, d-mned if I don't." If you don't tell your friend that another friend said something rude about them, when the truth does finally come out they'll say: "Why didn't you tell me?!?" But if you never tell them, they never have to undergo the distress of knowing something rude was said. Hashtag Dilemma. These are the dilemmas that women face every single day.)

Why am I writing this post? I have three papers to write. So I behooved myself to my beloved Quincy's, and promptly did NO WORK AT ALL. But I've had some really beautiful coffee (much better, I am overjoyed to report than that dishwater stuff). So I really feel pretty good about my life choices this morning. I woke up, read some stuff, and did stuff, and ran around and exercised and stuff and got stuff done, and just you know, found stuff to do and all sorts of stuff like that. 
Then guess what? You won't, so I'll tell you. There were strawberries for breakfast at the dining hall. Is this exciting and worth commenting about? YES. Yes it is. Welcome to the life of a strawberry-deprived college student. I missed strawberry season in the window of time I was at home. And that makes me sadder than sad; it, in fact, makes me distraught. I'm pretty sure my friend hyperventilated a little bit when she saw them. It was an adrenaline-filled moment of wonder. Then we watched cat videos at breakfast. And that's okay. 

Also, my bag weighed in at 49 pounds at the airport (in case you were interested. You probably weren't. I was. I was very interested, in fact I had a vested interest in making sure my bag weighed no more than 50 pounds. So you can imagine my interest in the fact that my bag weighed 49 pounds. I was interested. Mucho interested).

Also, ND's wonderful security police force stole my bike. I know, I know, it's confusing. And also kind of really ironic. So that was very nice of them. And by "nice of them" I mean "rotten" and "corrupt to the core" and also maybe a demure, lady-like expletive or two. But I'm actually not that upset. I mean, I am upset, because that bike is my bike, and I would like it back. But I don't think I've ridden that bike since October of freshman year. I may have ridden it last summer, but I doubt it. Biking is nice, but walking is better. Nothing in the world is as therapeutic as walking. Except maybe procrastinating writing two my papers (whoops) in an air-conditioned coffee shop. 

Gosh I love summer.


  1. I was actually legitimately wondering the other day if your bag weighed the right amount. I was walking through Montana thinking, "It would be really cool if Renee's bag stayed the same weight, because mine always gets heavier...". I kid you not.
    *sigh* and now you're wondering if you REALLY want to meet me in a month. ;)

  2. hahaha Allison, you are the sweetest! My bag appreciates your thoughtfulness in remembering it. And yeah, bags mysteriously gain weight on the way to the airport. I'll never understand.