So, night #3 of college. My class is ridiculously small (87 students), and we've gotten to the point by now that most of us are pretty good friends. Only the freshman class has arrived so far, other than the R2s (Resident Resources). The 87 of us plus most of the ten R2s all live in one building.
Anyway. Night #3. It was probably 11:30 or so. Many of us had finished watching Tangled not too long ago, and a few of us were left sitting around in the antelounge. (Like a lounge but less comfortable. The lounge on our floor had been used to play Mafia, and we didn't want to get up.)
Six-ish of us remained antelounging: five gents and a lady. Myself, Brooks, Evan, Kevin, Chaz, and Diana. One way or another, we gents, excepting only Chaz, wound up sitting on a bench, arm in arm, with an obscenely comfortable body pillow behind us and a blanket atop. We were the Bro Bench, or the Brench, for short. We were excitedly planning for future plans of the Brench's 11 AM meals (the Brench Brunch), and in particular the meal of the bro next to me (Brooks' Brench Brunch). Chaz and Diana were sitting off-sides.
Unexpectedly, Diana announced that she was going to test whether I was ticklish, and proceeded to test. I withstood it for a while, but in due time I succumbed, broke from the Brench, and launched a counterattack. Entirely unfazed, Diana, without missing a beat, stood up, grabbed our body pillow, and dashed out of the room.
The chase was on. The Brench reorganized itself, and we hobbled off into the actual lounge. The game of Mafia had long ended, and there were now only a few loungers remaining. Diana was nowhere to be seen, and the loungers evidently were on Diana's side. Somehow, she had used her feminine wiles to win them onto her side in the fifteen second advantage she held. This wasn't just a chase: it was a war.
We broke off and all ran in different directions. I ran down a hallway on the same floor in attempt to find the elusive Diana, only to find that I was followed by three of Diana's cronies. They grabbed me and took me to the ground. One took my blanket and ran; the other two tried to keep me in place. After a fair while I dashed back off to resume the chase.
After several minutes of stair-climbing, hall-running exercise, I returned to the lounge to see if any of her goonies would spill Diana's or the pillow's whereabouts. As it happened, one was a mole: I was advised to check the stairwell at the end of the hall.
I ran in and clambered up the stairs to find the rest of the Brench, detaining the fiend. Evidently, they were collectively catching their breath, but the Brench was clearly in control. I assisted in holding her down, but just as we began to interrogate her, she somehow slipped through our fingers and escaped. The Snake-Woman was off once more.
Running and stair-climbing abound. We were all working up a sweat by this point. Several minutes later, we got her at the back of another hallway, but this time, she was cornered. She was literally at the end of a hallway with a third-story window behind her and a wall to her side; on her other two sides, Brench Bros. The nearest stairwell was guarded by another Bro: she had no escape. The pillow was to be ours.
Suddenly, the Snake jumped up once more and continued her run. We chased her, only to find another goonie at the end of the hall, blocking our path. We overpowered him relatively quickly, and saw our prey climbing down the stairs back into the lounge whence we came. She stopped running and extended her olive branch: if we legitimately wanted the pillow back, it was ours. Evan, the pillow's owner, submitted, thus ending the chase. She showed us the pillow, which was in a little nook beside the hall past which I had run at least three times. (My blanket's captor was nowhere to be found, although he later returned to me my prize.) Even from that very night, legends were told of the elusive Snake-Woman who could escape from even the tightest hold.
Aug 30, 2011
Aug 25, 2011
Delicious Odors
I don't really sweat much at all. I usually stay inside, where the climate is controlled and I don't have to undergo physical activity. Therefore antiperspirant is not generally on the top of my considerations. It's just an occasional "oh yeah that" thing. Therefore, when I was packing for summer camp in June, the thought of deodorant did not even cross my mind.
Suddenly, summer happened: the weather was hot, and I was undergoing slightly more physical activity than usual. For obvious reasons, my roommates complained. When they went into the city one day to see a concert, they promised me that they would bring back some deodorant for me. And sure enough, they did. They got me Dove Revive Pomegranate and Lemon Verbena scented deodorant.
They also took it upon themselves to buy me a cologne.
They had purchased the cologne for $5 at a deli in Brewster. It was a Mexican cologne called Florida Water. It featured a naked woman on the front of the bottle, and was described as "an exquisite blend of cinnamon, orange, and spices." The ingredients were listed at the bottom of the label: water, "fragrances," alcohol, and dye. The label also described the cologne as "20% more free," the meaning of which eludes me to this day, because it was printed right on the bottle's label, so it clearly wasn't on sale, which leaves me to wonder what it was more free than. The cologne itself smelled like a vile mix between cinnamon and marijuana, and was simply generally unappealing.
So I started using the Pomegranate & Lemon Verbena deodorant, because it was better than nothing. The general consensus seemed to be that I smelled good, but like a lady. Regardless, I would rather smell like a lady than like sweat.
One day, my roommates went out again. They texted me from Walmart, asking me if I wanted anything. I asked them for some real deodorant, like maybe Axe or something. Soon enough, they returned:
Hollywood Playboy Body Spray. They paid a whopping $4 for this at Walmart. I opened it to see how it smelled, and it was shockingly delicious. It smelled like neither a lady nor cinnamon marijuana. It was like a seductive cologne. I guess when a company is that lucrative, they can afford to make good products. My new body spray smelled so good, in fact, that everyone in my room used it every day for the remainder of the summer. And it worked.
I deliberately left the cologne at camp for others to find next year, and accidentally left the lady-deodorant there as well, but I was quite sure to bring my body spray home. Currently my supply is low, but still present. I went to Target the other day, and they regrettably did not have any in stock, so I suppose I'll be checking Walmart in a little while. I strongly suggest that you, reader, make an investment in your future by purchasing this body spray. It is worth every one of those four dollars.
Suddenly, summer happened: the weather was hot, and I was undergoing slightly more physical activity than usual. For obvious reasons, my roommates complained. When they went into the city one day to see a concert, they promised me that they would bring back some deodorant for me. And sure enough, they did. They got me Dove Revive Pomegranate and Lemon Verbena scented deodorant.
They had purchased the cologne for $5 at a deli in Brewster. It was a Mexican cologne called Florida Water. It featured a naked woman on the front of the bottle, and was described as "an exquisite blend of cinnamon, orange, and spices." The ingredients were listed at the bottom of the label: water, "fragrances," alcohol, and dye. The label also described the cologne as "20% more free," the meaning of which eludes me to this day, because it was printed right on the bottle's label, so it clearly wasn't on sale, which leaves me to wonder what it was more free than. The cologne itself smelled like a vile mix between cinnamon and marijuana, and was simply generally unappealing.
So I started using the Pomegranate & Lemon Verbena deodorant, because it was better than nothing. The general consensus seemed to be that I smelled good, but like a lady. Regardless, I would rather smell like a lady than like sweat.
One day, my roommates went out again. They texted me from Walmart, asking me if I wanted anything. I asked them for some real deodorant, like maybe Axe or something. Soon enough, they returned:
Hollywood Playboy Body Spray. They paid a whopping $4 for this at Walmart. I opened it to see how it smelled, and it was shockingly delicious. It smelled like neither a lady nor cinnamon marijuana. It was like a seductive cologne. I guess when a company is that lucrative, they can afford to make good products. My new body spray smelled so good, in fact, that everyone in my room used it every day for the remainder of the summer. And it worked.
I deliberately left the cologne at camp for others to find next year, and accidentally left the lady-deodorant there as well, but I was quite sure to bring my body spray home. Currently my supply is low, but still present. I went to Target the other day, and they regrettably did not have any in stock, so I suppose I'll be checking Walmart in a little while. I strongly suggest that you, reader, make an investment in your future by purchasing this body spray. It is worth every one of those four dollars.
Jun 18, 2011
My Best Friend Regis
Regis Philbin lives locally. In fact, a fair number of people do: Terry Crews and Judge Judy, for example. I was bound to run into one eventually. So I was eating at a diner yesterday with about a dozen others, and sure enough, in walks Regis with three friends, and they sit at a table at the far corner of the diner.
Instantly, he became the topic of conversation at our table. One group of girls went to the bathroom just to get a closer look at him (after discussing for several minutes their plans to do so). My seat, I discovered, was the perfect vantage point for viewing him, so I stood up next to my seat and watched him for about twenty seconds. As soon as we made eye contact, I sat down hunched over my burger and and pretended I had never been standing.
Eventually, we all left. Everyone else drove home, but I don't have a license, so I was stuck sitting outside waiting for my mother to come pick me up. While I was waiting around, Regis walked out of the diner with two of his three friends. Moreover, he didn't leave - he was standing about four feet in front of me, checking out some newspapers.
Immediately, I started gesticulating at my friends across the street who were walking to their cars. After getting their attention, I pointed wildly at Regis, hoping I was out of the line of sight of him and his friends. (I think one saw me, but if she did, she didn't say anything.)
After a minute, Regis's last friend came outside. Worrying that they were about to leave, I approached Regis and asked, "Um, excuse me, I know you must get this all the time, but may I have a picture?" This must have been pretty routine for him, because said sure somewhat offhandedly and lined himself up on the sidewalk. One of his friends who was crossing the street asked what his holdup was, and he said he was waiting for a picture.
So I tried to get my phone to turn on its camera. I pushed the camera button and walked toward his other friend, asking if he could please take our picture for me. His friend said, "Well, I don't even know who you are!" I apologized, introduced myself, and extended my hand for a shake, which he disregarded and tried to take my phone. I couldn't quite give it to him, though, because it wasn't in camera mode yet. He asked why I wasn't giving it to him; I explained that I was trying to turn on its camera. I took a step back and tried to fiddle around with it as I apologized profusely for holding Regis up, and if he had somewhere to go, then please, by all means, don't let me make him late; meanwhile, Regis's friends were asking what was taking so long. After at least a minute of this, Regis asked, "Son, have you ever taken a picture with this before?" I said, "Well, no, but I-" at which point Regis said, "All right, nevermind," and walked briskly on his way with his friends.
Shortly thereafter, I discovered that you had to hold down the camera button.
Man.
Instantly, he became the topic of conversation at our table. One group of girls went to the bathroom just to get a closer look at him (after discussing for several minutes their plans to do so). My seat, I discovered, was the perfect vantage point for viewing him, so I stood up next to my seat and watched him for about twenty seconds. As soon as we made eye contact, I sat down hunched over my burger and and pretended I had never been standing.
Eventually, we all left. Everyone else drove home, but I don't have a license, so I was stuck sitting outside waiting for my mother to come pick me up. While I was waiting around, Regis walked out of the diner with two of his three friends. Moreover, he didn't leave - he was standing about four feet in front of me, checking out some newspapers.
Immediately, I started gesticulating at my friends across the street who were walking to their cars. After getting their attention, I pointed wildly at Regis, hoping I was out of the line of sight of him and his friends. (I think one saw me, but if she did, she didn't say anything.)
After a minute, Regis's last friend came outside. Worrying that they were about to leave, I approached Regis and asked, "Um, excuse me, I know you must get this all the time, but may I have a picture?" This must have been pretty routine for him, because said sure somewhat offhandedly and lined himself up on the sidewalk. One of his friends who was crossing the street asked what his holdup was, and he said he was waiting for a picture.
So I tried to get my phone to turn on its camera. I pushed the camera button and walked toward his other friend, asking if he could please take our picture for me. His friend said, "Well, I don't even know who you are!" I apologized, introduced myself, and extended my hand for a shake, which he disregarded and tried to take my phone. I couldn't quite give it to him, though, because it wasn't in camera mode yet. He asked why I wasn't giving it to him; I explained that I was trying to turn on its camera. I took a step back and tried to fiddle around with it as I apologized profusely for holding Regis up, and if he had somewhere to go, then please, by all means, don't let me make him late; meanwhile, Regis's friends were asking what was taking so long. After at least a minute of this, Regis asked, "Son, have you ever taken a picture with this before?" I said, "Well, no, but I-" at which point Regis said, "All right, nevermind," and walked briskly on his way with his friends.
Shortly thereafter, I discovered that you had to hold down the camera button.
Man.
Jun 15, 2011
Making Deadlines 101
Last night I began doing the dishes at 11:20 PM. I often like to set "target times" for myself to make a game out of them; sorta like "if I finish this essay by 2:00 then I can play Sporcle," but more mundane and with no prize other than a sense of accomplishment. At first, I decided that I should be done with the dishes by 11:30; I reconsidered and decided that that was more time that I needed. However, because I intended to go straight to bed after doing the dishes, I could encourage myself not to dawdle online by challenging myself to be in bed at 11:30.
11:28, the dishes were done. I quickly removed my gloves and dashed upstairs to brush my teeth. I came to the executive decision that 11:30 would count as long as it was before 11:31 (going by my watch's time, of course); that is to say, it was valid right up until 11:30.59.
11:30.35, I finished brushing my teeth. I spat into the sink and quickly rinsed out , which for whatever reason took longer than usual. I threw away my paper cup, and glanced at my watch. 11:30.48. I had as good as lost.
I ran into my room and turned the light on. I realized that my parameter was if I was in bed at 11:30, not if I was lying down and ready to sleep at 11:30; therefore if I got into my bed in time and got into pajamas without setting foot out of the bed, I was still in the clear. I leapt and bounded into my bed, and checked my watch. 11:30.56. I was safe, but I hadn't won yet.
Fortunately, changing into pajamas was quick and painless. I threw my dirty clothes across the room into the hamper, thinking I was about to taste sweet victory, until I made a horrible realization: the lights were on.
So, to recap:
11:28, the dishes were done. I quickly removed my gloves and dashed upstairs to brush my teeth. I came to the executive decision that 11:30 would count as long as it was before 11:31 (going by my watch's time, of course); that is to say, it was valid right up until 11:30.59.
11:30.35, I finished brushing my teeth. I spat into the sink and quickly rinsed out , which for whatever reason took longer than usual. I threw away my paper cup, and glanced at my watch. 11:30.48. I had as good as lost.
I ran into my room and turned the light on. I realized that my parameter was if I was in bed at 11:30, not if I was lying down and ready to sleep at 11:30; therefore if I got into my bed in time and got into pajamas without setting foot out of the bed, I was still in the clear. I leapt and bounded into my bed, and checked my watch. 11:30.56. I was safe, but I hadn't won yet.
Fortunately, changing into pajamas was quick and painless. I threw my dirty clothes across the room into the hamper, thinking I was about to taste sweet victory, until I made a horrible realization: the lights were on.
So, to recap:
- I was sitting in my bed
- I had to get across the room and back
- I was not permitted to touch the floor.
That's right.
The floor was lava.
Now, allow me to provide you with a diagram of my room:
After a minute of planning, my route was decided, and I set out on my journey. I made my way over to the foot of my bed and leaned over to pull out the bottom drawer of the dresser nearest me. I then crouched on my bed and, holding onto the bedpost, reached my foot over into the drawer. I transferred over, and was somewhat stably across the first gap.
The second transfer was easier: I pulled my hamper a little closer to me, and set foot atop my clothes. My foot sank as the air space between my clothes was crushed, but I was ultimately standing in my last week's worth of filth.
The third "move" wasn't so much of a move as it was a maneuver. I turned around so I was facing the wall, and grabbed onto the bookshelf portion of the next dresser. (It's like a combo thing, where there are drawers on bottom and a bookshelf on top. You know.) I shifted my weight over, putting one foot into my pants drawer in the dresser, and reached over to turn the lights off. I climbed back into my hamper, across the first dresser, bridged the gap, and lay in my bed, victorious.
I am 17 years old and entering college in nine weeks, where I am expected to be a mature adult.
Have at me, world.
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