Day 184 of College: Russian Super Tortoises

Today...


It's a study day. And, because it's a study day, I'm sitting in the library and typing a blog to avoid doing actual work! Huzzah! 


This seems to be a pattern for me. Most of the blogs you read were, in fact, written during my anthropology class or during my "study days." 


But, today, I actually should be studying. Because, my first test in my anthropology class is tomorrow and, as I've previously stated, I am rarely listening in my anthropology class and more often am just typing a blog and nodding thoughtfully if the professor happens to look my way. 


So, I literally know nothing about anthropology. Other than the fact that it's a particularly long word. I only took the class because I need a science class to graduate and someone told me that there was no math involved. 


Math is the worst. Also, morning classes are worst. Guess who has a math class at 8 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays? 


I'm not even going to bother typing "this girl" because we all know that it, in fact, is. My 8 am math class also happens to be my only class on Tuesdays and Thursdays and, due to my intense love of napping and my crippling facebook addiction, I don't get a lot done on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Hence today's study day. 


Anyhow, the major question has once again come up. Stupid major question. It's like a greedy drunk ex-boyfriend, always showing up when I least expect it. Granted, I have never had an ex-boyfriend, greedy, drunk or otherwise, so I'm mostly going off of blind conjecture and lifetime movies. 


But, yeah. I'm thinking criminal justice because 1. I would be a kickass lawyer and 2. I would be a kickass cop. 


The world would be a safer place if I had a law degree, a gun and a police car. Don't you agree? 


Who cares if you agree? I'm going to go and get a stupid college degree just so I can fulfill a petty, childish whim. It's almost like I'm a musical theatre major! Boom.


(Seriously, though. I love you, musical theatre majors. If I had parents to pay for my college or the brains/talent/political clout needed to get a scholarship, I'd totally be a musical theatre major too. Or a glass blowing major because, what the hell.) 


My attempts to learn Russian are, sadly, not going all the well. The un-english looking letters are seriously hard to pronounce. I try and sound like I have a frog in my throat. And I don't mean that as a figure of speech. I mean that as I sound like I am literally choking on a live amphibian. 


I had a pet frog once. His name was Lysander. He ate a cricket that was bigger than him and died. 


All my pets seem to die horrible deaths. 


Except Pope John Paul, of course. Pope John Paul is immortal. And he has super powers. He's the Russian Desert Tortoise version of Superman. 


True story. 


Danielle OUT. 

Day 167 of College: Ready, Set, Debt!

Today...


I almost bought an ENFORCER on ebay! 


Then some jerk outbid me. Jerk. 


I have about, eh, $900 in my bank account right now. And while that may sound like a lot for a poor college student to have in her bank account...it's student-loan-money. So someday I'm going to have to pay all that money back. Also, interest. Lots and lots of interest. 


I had to take debt counseling classes online this summer. I'm totally serious. It was terrible. I'm already in thousands of dollars of debt...now you're going to make me take classes about being in debt too? 


Jerks. 


Anyway, if you wanted to see a fully compiled list of the annoying bitc...ahem, girls you meet at college, you can find it here. 


Moving on to other things...


Guess who has two oddly short thumbs and no boyfriend? 


...don't make me say it. 


Oh, fine. THIS GIRL. 


This girl is also coming up on the worst month of the year. February. 


I hate February for three very justifiable reasons. I also hate it for about three-dozen non-justifiable reasons, but I won't bore you with those. 


1. It can't spell February. So far, google chrome had corrected my attempts at spelling February to "fur brewery" and "fib rarely." So there's that reason. 


2. My birthday is in February. The 11th, to be exact. I am not someone who enjoys getting older. Not one bit. Because, really, every year I have to say I've spent another year of my life single. And, once you tell people you're 19 years single...they're going to start to ask what's wrong with you. (Beyond the obvious, of course.) 


3. Need I even type it? Valenti...ahem, SAD day is in February. (For those of you not in the know or in happy relationships, SAD day is Single's Awareness Day...day.) 


On the bright side, that is the one day a year that I can lie in bed like a slug all day, eat an entire quart of cookie dough ice cream, and listen to "I Can't Make You Love Me" on repeat and none of you are allowed to judge me. 


People will look at me and say "What the hell are you doing?" 


And I say, "I'm single." 


And then they flinch sympathetically and skip off to have a day filled with candy hearts and happiness. 


I know I'm starting this whole "countdown to Single's Awareness Day day" thing pretty early...but I'm pacing myself. We're gonna build up slowly, don't you worry. 


Anyway. There's homework and SAD day prepping to be done. 


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.