Day Seventy-Six of College: Highlighters, IHOP and Stuff

Today...


I'm tired. Like, so, so, so, so tired. Cause, I went to a party last night, dressed as a German barmaid no less. Granted, it was a Halloween party. I don't go to normal parties dressed as a German barmaid. Then again, I don't go to many normal parties. Or any, really. 


Yep. 


So, I really should go take a shower. I'm dressed in my clothes from yesterday and I have highlighter all over me. Highlighter glows like crazy in blacklights. And there were blacklights last night. So, naturally, I colored all over myself with highlighter. It made sense at the time. Also, I slept on the floor. So...a shower miiight be in order. Maybe. 


I went to IHOP this morning. I love IHOP. I love IHOP more than it's healthy for someone to love IHOP. I love IHOP like a harbor seal loves crack cocaine. That's how much I love IHOP. But, apparently, there aren't many other interesting things to do in Muncie besides going to IHOP because its always frickin crowded in that joint. Seriously. My friend and I had to wait twenty minutes to get a table. Unacceptable, IHOP wait staff. Unacceptable. 


No, but seriously. There's a lot of highlighter on me. I should go take care of that. 


Hm. I also have homework to do today. Gah. I hate homework. Also, I'm really tired. Did I mention that? I just spelled 'that' wrong...SHUT UP GOOGLE CHROME!! I WAS NOT TRYING TO SPELL THREE. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FREAKING DUMB ALL THE TIME, GOOGLE CHROME?


Maybe I should download Firefox. That'd show Google Chrome who's boss. 


I'm arguing with an internet server. That shows you about where I'm at right now. 


Okie dokie. And yes, Google-Freaking-Evil-Chrome corrected that too. But, yeah, I'm going to go take a shower. There's highlighter on me.


Danielle Out. 

Day Sixty-Nine of College: This Weekend was a Sugar/Sims High

Today...


I did pretty much nothing. I'm not kidding. The only reason that I left my dorm was to get food. And then I came back to my dorm to eat that food. And that was about how I spent my weekend.


 Yes, of course I had homework. No, I didn't finish any of it. Homework doesn't really feel like homework when you live at the place where you go to school. Just sayin. It's weird. I can't make myself do homework unless I'm in the library. So, for me it's less homework and more librarywork. Again. Just sayin. 


One of the few things that I did do this weekend was find my long-lost copy of the Sims 3. I played a lot of the Sims 3. Is it weird to make Sims of people you don't like and them trap them in the pool without a ladder? It is? SHUT UP YOU! YOU'RE THE SOCIOPATH, YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE THE SOCIOPATH! 


Yup. 


Playing the Sims is seriously not at all entertaining and yet...I spent a good eleven or twelve hours playing it this weekend. Not kidding. I had Sims who were born and died under my lengthy twelve-hour-regin. Seriously. AND IT WASN'T EVEN FUN. 


...i'm not crazy. Well, maybe just a tad bit...but it's the lovable kind of crazy, not the burn down your houses kind of crazy. 


Also, I have a new career path in mind. I want to be the host of a show on the Food Network. I'm serious. I know that I can't cook, like, anything, but I spent a lot of my Sim-playing-time also watching the Food Network.  The Food Network is weirdly addictive. I watched five episodes of Sweet Genius. IN A ROW. 


You can't pretend that sort of behavior is normal. 


Then again, I was really hungry and I didn't want to have to get up to go get food. Or change the channel. Also, I was kind of enjoying Sweet Genius. When I eventually did go to get food, the only things I wanted were very sugary cereals, caramel apple flavored lollipops and anything else with a high sugar content. 


I'm on a two-day sugar high. 


I would go do my homework...but I can't concentrate on anything for longer than, like...


You get the idea. 


I need to get a new harmonica, wouldn't you agree?


Danielle Out. 

Day Sixty-Five of College: Justice...Kinda my Middle Name. Kinda.

Today...


I skipped Journalism. AGAIN. But this time it wasn't even on purpose. See, my sister and me went car shopping today. So...that was a TON of fun. Except for the part where the car she bought broke down a few blocks from the dealership and the part where she refused to purchase me a retired police car. And yes, the whole lemon-car thing sucks for her...


BUT AN EX-POLICE CAR?


I would name it THE ENFORCER and we would have the best of times. Seriously. It even has the, like, floodlight on it so I could show up to parties and scare freshmen. The things that The Enforcer and I could do...


I would buy a police uniform and follow people I didn't like around all day. 
I'd arrest people for jaywalking. 
I'd make my siblings ride in the "prisoner containment unit."
I'd speed and never get caught. 
I'd read people their rights before I'd let them ride with me. 
I'd hit other cars, just for fun. 
If anyone asked for a ride, I'd tell 'em that The Enforcer only drives to one place...downtown. 
I'd call people who rode with me punks. 
I'd hit passersby repeatedly with a nightstick. 
I'd commit a string of thefts from various jewelry store and never get caught.
I'd arrest pizza drivers. Just cause. 
I'd buy a gun and shoot people for jaywalking.
I'd commender a fleet of other police-type cars and create for a for-hire police service. 
I would effectively rule all of central Indiana. 


I realize these ideas got steadily more outlandish and altogether insane. Still...a police car. HOW COOL IS THAT????


I am determined that someday, somehow, through theft or some other illegal form of car-getting, I will have a police car! And I will name that police car The Enforcer and we will ENFORCE...er. Justice. It sounds kind of like my middle name. Which is Lenae. Sort of like justice.


But, not really. 


There are other fun and altogether depressing things that I did today...but my excitement over The Enforcer has kind of eclipsed everything else. 


Twilight ruined the word eclipse for me. Also, most of seventh through ninth grade. 


I don't wanna talk about it. 


I'd love to stay and talk, but I have things to do. Like figure out how to obtain a police car. And Enforce things. Until I get a police car, I'm naming my bike The Enforcer. 


Evildoers beware. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Fifty-Eight of College: Much Ado About Animals

Today...


I skipped journalism class. Mostly because I just hate journalism. But also because I needed to write papers for my Music History class. And yes, you read that right. Papers. As in the plural. One paper wasn't good enough, no. I've got to write two. 


Speaking of two, that's what time I was up to in the morning last night (or is it morning? I can never be sure). Hardly an uncommon thing for a college student to be sleeping at unusual and unhealthy hour, I know. But, seriously, I'm wicked tired. And because I've got those Music History papers to finish, I assure you that I will be up at least that late tonight. 


Homework is the devil. I'm forty-three percent certain. 


Moving on to other things...my fish died today. It was depressing and awful and I cried over his lifeless little fishy corpse. And then I flushed him. It was all very sad. 


May you rest in peace Captain Morgan. 


I'm thinking that I should get a boa constrictor next. I could name him Winston and we would have the best of times together! But...boa constrictors are notoriously picky eaters. According to this website that I saw this one time, they only eat pine cones, extra virgin (like me!) olive oil, partially-frozen deer meat and small children. And while I have small children in no short supply...the rest would be difficult to obtain. 


Damn. All these plans for naught. 


Also, Pope John (who I recently found out is a girl turtle, not a boy turtle) would probably be jealous. He/She was already jealous or my fish...I suspect a poisoning plot perhaps (oh, allitteration!). But, no seriously, now that I've discovered that Pope John Paul is a Popess should I rename him/her? Should he/she now be Popess Jean Penelope?


Nah...that's idiotic. He/She should remain Pope John Paul. All the coolest girls have boy names anyway. Like...Charli (my sister) and DANielle (that's me). So...PJP he/she shall remain. 


I still feel weird about the whole thing. Seriously. It feels like my turtle got a sex-change. I failed as a mother. 


And that seems like a good place to stop. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Fifty-Four of College: Watch it. It's worth Ten Points.

Today...


I'm home. It's Homecoming Weekend at Ball State...so I came home. I thought it made sense. Very few others did. But I digress. Also, a wasp attacked my little brother today. And, don't get me wrong, I love my brother. He's one of my nine favorite people (my turtle's on that list...my fish is not). But, when that wasp dived for his face, I screamed and ran away. 


I actually shoved it back towards him at one point. 


I have the maternal instincts of a Wolf Spider. And they EAT THEIR YOUNG. 


So...there's that. 


Also, watch this...

So...I think that just about covers it. 

Also, I dyed my hair blue today. Not all of it...but a streak. I think that it's pretty fantabulous. Again, not many others share this opinion. 

Danielle Out. 

Day Forty-Nine of College: Rantings that Actually Border on Insanity

Today...was spent mainly in the library. Cause, who woulda thunk it...but college has ACTUAL WORK involved. At least to an extent. I had to do all this grammar nonsense for my journalism class. It was dumb. Journalism is dumb. Journalism is....well, I think the video portion of my blog puts it better.


Watch this....

So, as you can see, there is no lost love between my most un-favorite acquaintance and me (journalism being the stupid-evil-dumb acquaintance). 


Gah...I'm conflicted. I don't like being conflicted. I like a simple life...food, water, a nice wheel to exercise in...That's it! I'll just be a hamster. 


Problem solved. 


Except...I'm not a big fan of wood chips. 


Damn. 


Problem un-solved. 


I have more holes in my problem-solving-logic than the Titanic had after it hit that iceberg....Oh, that movie just killed me (LET HIM ON THE STUPID PIECE OF FURNITURE, ROSE YOU STUPID FAT COW!!) Anyway. My irrationally angry inner-voice is out again. 


I swear I'm not crazy. 


It's just that journalism is an evil wood nymph that crawls inside your brain and steals your hopes and dreams and uses them to buy crack cocaine. Then he sells crack cocaine to baby harbor seals. And, once they're all addicted...he uses them to form an army. An army of crack-fueled-harbor-seals. 


That got dark. 


I apologize. 


Maybe I should major in writing children's stories. 


Danielle Out