I'm Drunk (With Knowledge)

Happy homecoming weekend! Or something! I don't know...merry homecoming weekend? Have a good homecoming? I'm very bad at social situations. I don't really know the protocol for wishing someone a good...well...joyous homecoming. 

Like all the cool kids, I am spending homecoming weekend not at the football game and not getting drunk/tailgating. I'm in the library. With my equally as cool sister. I actually did homework and stuff. It got to feeling a bit too productive...hence the blogging. And pintrest-ing. I spend far too much time on pintrest. I have twenty bucks in the bank. I can't buy anything I pin. I can't even buy food. 

I had to cancel my netflix subscription. 

It was a dark day indeed. 

And who do I have to thank for my current poverty? (Aside from my teacher parents, inability to win the lottery and refusal to get a new job) The financial aid office, that's who. 

They're seriously the worst. First, they make me feel terrible for being poor. And, as you know, I did not choose the thug life. The thug life chose me, financial aid office. After they're done berating me for being poor, they put me on hold. FOR HOURS. Seriously. I think they all went to lunch and laughed about it one time. 

I can't go to lunch. I have no money to buy lunch. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, FINANCIAL AID OFFICE. 

Ball State really should pay me to go here. I give them so much good press, what with my positively-themed blogging and all. (But, really. My college is the worst college. Except at being drunk. We're all super good at that.) 

So, with a school full of hookers and drunkards...is it really surprising that I avoid homecoming just as fervently as I avoid having a boyfriend? 

The difference is...only one of those things is a choice. 

Whatever. It's cool. I'm probably really bad at it anyway. I'll just becoming a nun. Or a velociraptor. 

Don't ask me how I'd become a velociraptor. I have ways. 

I should go. We ordered a pizza and I can always count on melty cheese and cardboard-y crust to temporarily fill the hole inside me where the love is supposed to go. 

Oh, I jest. 

...but seriously. My school is the worst. 

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 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.