Day 213 of College: Attack of the Frisbees

Today...


I walked aimlessly around campus for a few hours. I did this because the weather was nice, so I wanted to be outside, but I didn't want to sit in one place lest I be mocked or hit with an ultimate frisbee (how are they different than regular frisbees? I mean, really.) 


I don't know why someone would mock me. But, walking around campus, I'm already half-convinced that everyone is laughing at me. Again, I have no idea why. 


But, anyway, I wandered campus aimlessly. I call this "pulling a Danielle." There are 3 distinct rules that you must follow when pulling a Danielle. 


1. Don't meander. Walk sort-of quickly, like you might be heading to class or something. This dispels suspicion that you aren't actually going to someplace. 


2. Have a "destination" in mind. My destination is always Starbucks, mostly because Starbucks is hella far from campus. Walking there takes, like, ten minutes (At Ball State Strip Mall, ten minutes is far). Seriously, Starbucks is the Pluto of the Ball State Universe-ity. 

3. Don't make eye contact. For me, this is a life rule in general. Eye contact leads to awkwardness. And bananas. 


Anyhow, time for some cutting observations about other college-goers. 


So, this week has been warm. On some levels, this is neat. On some levels, this is not-so-neat. The not-so-neat level consists mainly of whores. 


Let me explain. There is no dress code in college. Apparently, that means you dress like a street walker on the first day of non-frigid weather. Seriously. Sometimes, I can't tell if girls are wearing "shorts" or denim-colored-thongs. 


Some of them are wearing homecoming dresses. I'm not kidding. Throw a cardigan over that sucker and apparently your homecoming dress is like the same thing as a sundress. 


Also, the girls in my building think that sunbathing on the sidewalk outside is a good idea. I almost tripped on one in a straight-up string bikini yesterday. 


It's been making me seriously uncomfortable. 


On a related note, the boys in my building are getting ridiculous. And clever. But mostly ridiculous. 


They've figured out that you can sit on the lawn outside and just stare at girls. It's like Playboy with marginally more clothes and marginally less money. And marginally the same amounts  of skeeviness. 


And people wonder why I want to drop out of college...


(Is it like this at all colleges? Or is it just marginally-better-than-community-college-Ball-State?) 


Whatever. I'll just keep my clothes on and remain ridiculously pale. We'll see who's laughing when we're all thirty and they all have skin cancer...and probably husbands. 


At this rate, I will most likely still be single. 


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 161 of College: Invisible Friends and Loos

Today...


before we get to the juicy stuff, let's finish the list that we started in my last blog, shall we? (In case you have not yet seen that awesomeness that is that list, here's the link.) 


So, here we go. Here are more annoying girls whom I've come into contact with while at college.


5. The "World Traveler" 


This, I'll admit, is a rather small group of people. However, they manage to compensate for their small numbers by being INCREDIBLY ANNOYING. 


And how are they incredibly annoying, you ask? Well, they start by studying abroad, usually for a small period of time (i.e. no longer than a semester). Now, by itself, studying abroad isn't really important. I know plenty of people who have. What makes the world traveler so annoying is how they act when they come back from their "life-changing experience." 


Let me sum it up in 4 words...YOU ARE NOT ENGLISH. It doesn't matter that you lived in London for two weeks. You're not going to naturally acquire an english accent (Madonna that means you...you are literally fooling no one). You're not going to start calling the bathroom "the loo" without purposefully meaning to. 


Also, if you study in some place with a different language (Germany or Japan or one of those other places I can't spell) you're not going to suddenly become fluent. So delete it off your facebook profile, please. 


Sorry. Those ones make me angry. 


Anyway. I've decided that you can wait for numbers 6 and 7 until next blog because I've had a depressing week and I want to go on about it. 


Don't you dare complain either. That's my shtick and if you infringe upon it, I'll kill you. No, but seriously. No infringement. I'll bring SOPA down on you. (Ba-dum ching!) 


So, as to my week...


I want to quit college this week. I obviously won't, for reasons I discussed in my last blog. (Link  here!)  They include but are not limited to my fear of working in a McDonalds. I've had nightmares that I fall in the french fry fryer and get french fried. It sounds like it would by fun, but really it isn't. 


Anywho, in case you haven't noticed, I learned how to link things to my blog. It's very exciting. 


In unrelated news, my teeth hurt and all dentists are the devil's handmaidens. (Also, the Kardashians.)


 So, because my family is so large, I got away with not going to the dentist for a few (six) years. My mom would ask if I'd been to the dentist in the past six months and I'd straight-up lie. 


Straight-up lying only works on your parents if they have enough kids to get you all confused. When you have as many siblings as I do, there is essentially no way to prove that you lied about not eating all the cookie dough or not running into the mailbox with the car a teeny tiny bit. 


So, I haven't gone to the dentist in a while (six years). So...my teeth aren't exactly in super condition. I may have a few (but, seriously, a lot) of cavities. The dentist drilled them and filled them and all that painful stuff. And now they still hurt. 


I've given up eating solid food. For the last week, all I've eaten is oatmeal, soup and ice cream. Also straight-up nutella. Not, like, on bread or anything. Just jars of hazelnutty chocolate goodness. 


Moving right along, I have a new friend. And that friend's name is Cleverbot. It's a website where you type random stuff in and the computer responds back to you. I like it. It's like instant messaging except when you message someone they don't instantly go "offline" or tell you that they'd "love to talk, but they really have to go take a shower." 


Cleverbot can't take showers. Muhahaha. I really should show you a transcript of my conversation with it. I won't because it's pathetic, but it really is funny. 


Anyway, I should go. Cleverbot will be getting lonely. 


Danielle OUT. 


P.S. If you LIKE the blogs, then LIKE me on Facebook. Or Google plus if you're, you know, a loser or something. 


But, seriously, LIKE my blogs. 

Day 155 of College: Vodka Wal-Mart

Today...


I've noticed some things about college. College girls in particular. To be particularly particular, the college girls who go to Ball State. To put it plainly...


They're all terrible people and I don't like them. 


Yep. There are reasons. Some Most of the reasons are terribly petty. I am a teenaged girl after all. Pettiness is kind of a reinging theme in teenage-girl-dom. 


There are 4 kinds of girls that I've noticed during my time here. I will list them for your reading pleasure: 


1. The Fake Alcoholic


The Fake Alcoholic is one of the most annoying types of college females. She will go out  between the hours of eight and midnight and go somewhere, presumably Wal-Mart, for an hour or so. Then she will go back to her dorm, apartment or cardboard box and slur out the claim "Omigod, I am so wasted."


NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU FAKER! You can't get wasted walking around Wal-Mart. You can get sad. You can get very, very sad. BUT YOU CAN'T GET "SOOO WASTED." You don't smell like vodka...you smell like a combination of sweat, desperation and sample cheeses. WE KNOW. WE ALL KNOW. 


2. The Real Alcoholic


This one is sad. Just like Wal-Mart. She will go out, procure liquor (lick her? I barely know her!) and drink it alone in her room. She doesn't go to class. She does go to parties. She goes to A LOT of parties. More parties than me! That's just crazy-talk! (Expect it isn't. I went to one party this year and spent most of it watching the history channel. Woo.) 


The Alcoholic will usually smell suspiciously like Wal-Mart. But not normal Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart smells like sadness, sweat, desperation, sample cheeses and imagination. Because it isn't real. I wish it was. 


3. The Super Streetwalker


Her name says it all! If it stays still long enough, she will try to hit it. Not in the violence way. In the streetwalkery way. She likes parties and boys. And girls. And the occasional canary. 


Why a canary? CAUSE SHE'S A HOOKER, THAT'S WHY. 


Also, she may be a stripper. We may never know. 


4. The Psychology Major


Yes, there are some people out there who actually want to get a doctorate in psychology and pursue it as a career. These are not the people I'm talking about. That all cleared up? Yes? Good. 


Now, the psychology major is your typically dumb high school girl except now she's in college. She can't decide what to major in. "Well, psychology sounds sorta fun...and I'm super good at giving all my BFFs dating advice...I have a gift!" 


No you don't. You don't have a gift. You don't even have a fully functioning brain. And, sweetie, you shouldn't be majoring in something YOU CAN'T SPELL. 


(Little known fact...that's why telecommunications majors call it T-Comm. Multisyllabic words don't go over well with the T-Comm crowd....I hate my major.) 


So...this list started to get unwieldy. We'll finish it in the next blog, shall we? 


Don't answer. You don't get a say. Now fetch me a turkey leg and some feta cheese, will you? 


I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER. To Vodka Taco Bell with you! (Vodka Taco Bell is not a happy place. It sounds like it would be...but it really isn't. Mostly it's just normal Taco Bell.)


In other news, I'm currently on the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train once again. I hate the stupid I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train. It's unfun and stressful. My stupid family. They're all teachers. You know how people have "family professions?" Yeah, well, my family's profession is teaching. THEY ALL THINK SPENDING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF TIME WITH CHILDREN IS A GOOD IDEA. They're crazy people. 


Woo woo


Oh, sorry. That was just the  I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train letting me know that it's getting ready to leave. I better go get on else I'll be stuck at McDonald's station. 


Or majoring in Psychology.


Hahaha. I jest. 


(Or do I?)


Danielle OUT.