today

ME: *leaving, la la la; suddenly remembers important thing to tell roommate* Hey, if the phone rings, answer it. It might be someone calling back for that guy next door.
ROOMMATE: O... kay...
ME: They're locked out of their room.
ROOMMATE: ...
ME: ...
ROOMMATE: Locked out?
ME: Yup.
ROOMMATE: All four of them?
ME: Um. Yup.
ROOMMATE: ...
ME: ...
ROOMMATE: ... *snickers*
ME: *also snickers*
ROOMMATE AND ME, IN UNISON: *giggle so loudly that the locked-out boys look at us funny*
ME: *regains composure* Yeah. They're boys. This is what comes of coed dorms.

* * *

Then later I went upstairs, because our Peer Academic Advisors (I'm still not entirely sure what that means) were giving out free milkshakes. So as I walk out the door with my milkshake (vanilla), I pass by this guy holding a chocolate shake, and just as I'm passing by, he's saying loudly to a friend, "I'm gonna put beer in mine!" There is nothing to think about this other than, "Wow, you've obviously already had a few." Because... beer? In a chocolate milkshake? I mean, seriously, dude. If you're going to put alcohol in dessert, try something that kind of goes with chocolate. Rum, for instance. I know of places where it is very easy to get very cheap rum. Rum goes with chocolate. Put rum in your milkshake. Please.

* * *

Dear Olympics,

Please stop showing the interesting events when I am in class or otherwise unavailable to watch TV. These events include such things as gymnastics, which has those lovely twins who kick ass. Please switch to showing events that I do not want to watch during classes. These events include such things as water polo, which has SCARY BURLY MEN IN SPEEDOS and in which the U.S. got its ass kicked by Serbia today.

For your convenience, let me just mention that my class schedule is 10-2 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and 9-12 Tuesday and Thursday. I also have orchestra from 10 to 1 on Saturdays, as well as band rehearsal on random weeknights. Please take this into consideration and GET THE SCARY BURLY MEN IN SPEEDOS OFF MY TV. Thank you.

Love,
Me

* * *

I bought my Latin book today and tried to read it and it reduced me to pathetic quivering jelly. Seriously. Just the pronunciation guide makes me want to hide under my bed, except that my bed is lofted and therefore the book will probably be able to detect my presence and track me there and threaten my life if I don't immediately pronounce "puellae" for it. I do not like the idea of being at the mercy of my Latin book, because it is scary and weighs about 838923757 pounds.

Although I do like its description of how to pronounce the "eu" dipthong that doesn't exist in English: the same way Elmer Fudd pronounces the "ew" in "vewy."

also

My computer has apparently contracted a virus of some sort, and so I have poked at my virus-fixing program with pointy sticks until it agreed to look around and see if there was a virus.

Ten minutes later, it says, "There's a virus. Want me to fix it?"

I hate when computer products do this. "The program died. Want to close it?" No, I want to leave it sitting there being dead and screwing up my ability to work, thanks. So, needless to say, I lost all sense of proportion and shouted at the computer, "No! I want to invite it to a fucking tea party! OBVIOUSLY!" while clicking the "yes" button.

My roommate thinks I am very strange now. Although possibly she has good reason, since I also threatened the computer with a lightsaber belonging to a tiny Lego version of Luke Skywalker.