me: I'll be out Friday night for sure, playing pool and getting wasted.
me: unrequited love is a BITCH
Andrew: and how
Andrew: who's the stupid guy?
me: stupid?
Andrew: well, if it's unrequited he must be stupid

Awwwwww.

...awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

And I thought the army only recruited cold-hearted killers. :)

Actual History Channel quote:

"The space elevator has to be anchored to Earth."

Wait a second. Space elevator?

REALLY REALLY WANT.

Ant: ::NSFW youtube link::
Ant: I'M ROLLIN' THROUGH THE WINTER CHECK OUT MY PUSSY JACKET
me: I'M AT SCHOOL
Ant: nigga it is midnight
Ant: 12 AYEM

---

Ant: why you at skoolz
me: I LIVE here.
me: I can't do shit
Ant: :(
me: yeah
me: can't drink
me: can't fuck
Ant: fuckin' gay
Ant: that's exactly why I live off campus

---

Troy: (paraphrased) Germans are trying to take over Poland again, but this time they're going really slow so the Poles won't see 'em.
me: Because their visual accuity is based on movement.
Ant: clevah girl

While discussing what to have for dinner...

Mom: Should we have tacos?
me: TACOS!
Mom: HooYAH!

Ant: the fish are sending scott olsen and josh willingham to the nats. WTF U CUNTS
me: GET SOME REAL PLAYERS AND I MIGHT CARE
Ant: scott olsen is a crafty lefty and has a rule named after him so stfu
me: Oh. Okay. Then get a real team and we'll talk. Marlins? Wtf is a marlin
Ant: MAKE THE PLAYOFFS ONCE IN A WHILE
me: YOU FIRST
Ant: two world series in the past 11 years kiss the rings bitch
me: Where'd you finish this season, huh? SAME PLACE YOU'RE GONNA FINISH NEXT YEAR
Ant: we finished by making new yorkers cry again. it was great
me: I bet they were all, "Aww, FUCK...wait a minute, Florida WHO?"
Ant: same team that beat the yankees in the world series. maybe if the twins could make it past the alds they'd remember what the series is

---

Okay, he wins. And hey, so does god, because he took Pat Neshek away from us for ANOTHER SEASON.

God: 1
Twins (and all that is good and sacred): 0

For the first time in my life, I am not only not embarrassed, but sincerely, genuinely proud to be an American.

Thank you for voting.

More importantly, thank you for voting for the right dude.

You made a lot of people very, very happy. I don't think there was a dry eye in the room last night. Even my grandfather was crying.

Go America. For once we made the right decision.

Now wake me up on Bush's last day.

Vote, bitches.

I don't care who you vote for. Just vote.

Vote, or shut your whore mouth while civic participants are talking.

I got caught with a boy in my dorm on Thursday night.

It was stupid, I should have been smarter, I should have known better, BUT still. If I lived in the dorms 100 feet to the west of where mine is, I wouldn't have gotten in trouble. The fact that I'm a 23-year-old consenting adult has absolutely no bearing on whether or not I can have a member of the opposite sex in my single room.

If the rule made sense, I'd be totally down with it. But it doesn't.

So anyway, I spent the last four nights in a posh hotel room with a jacuzzi tub and lots of booze. Which was a vast improvement over what would have happened had I not gotten caught--sneaking around, having to be quiet, drinking in secret, not being able to do anything, and probably eventually getting caught anyway. If I got written up, hey, at least we made up for it.

I just hope I don't get kicked out of school. I haven't heard anything else from anyone, so I'm kind of on edge. I'm also feeling really guilty, even though I don't feel that what I did was wrong. Does that make any sense?

At the same time, though, I hardly EVER do anything wrong. I never break the rules, I never step out of line. Ever. Not once in how many years of schooling.

I saw a bumper sticker this morning when I got dropped off for class. It said, "Life is short. Break some rules."

So yeah. I guess maybe I don't need to feel totally guilty about this.

...

::exhale::

What a week.

My ex texted me yesterday around 6:00, telling me he'd just had the scariest experience of his life. Completely out of the blue, he'd begun to feel dizzy, disoriented, and confused. He broke out in severe cold sweats, he could hear his heartbeat, and he lost control of his fine motor skills. He almost fell down the stairs. It took him about five minutes to read the number for his insurance company's medical hotline because his eyesight was so blurry. Even creepier, just before all of this happened, his dog threw up three times and shat and pissed all over the floor.

He opened all the doors and windows and quickly began to feel better. Scared, but thinking he was okay, he drove across town to teach a pottery class.

In his absence, I consulted the only medical authority I know--TF. If you're a TFer, you can read that thread here. The concensus was stroke, heart attack, or panic attack until I mentioned the thing about the dog. Instantly, every response was "carbon monoxide poisoning."

Luckily, my ex brought a CO detector home with him. The instant he plugged it in, the digital readout said "300-HIGH". He immediately called 911 and was hauled off to the hospital in an ambulance.

I've never been so scared in my life. I immediately raced across campus, jumped in my car, and drove down to the cities. I was texting him and my friends so much that I think the longest period of time I had my eyes on the road was about five seconds. He told me the paramedics had said his levels might be toxic, which scared me more than anything else. Thanks to an ER dispatcher at the hospital named Darryl, who fielded three of my queries regarding directions (in my defense, two of his responses were inaccurate) with much-needed grace, I arrived at the hospital in downtown Minneapolis without so much as a wrong turn.

The minute I saw him hooked up to an oxygen mask and an assortment of monitors, I burst into tears. I sat with him and held his hand for four hours before they finally released him.

I have never come so close to losing someone I cared about deeply. Yes, I've lost my grandmother, but I wasn't sitting at her side at the time, and it was almost expected she would die soon. For my 30-year-old friend to die in what may arguably be his healthiest state (not that that's saying much), I wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Coincidentally, it was mentioned to him in passing that if he hadn't been a smoker, the concentration of carbon monoxide (500+ particles) would have done him a great deal more damage. Even so, another 15-30 minutes in that house would have done serious damage regardless, and if he'd fell asleep when he wanted to, he would be dead right now.

Anyway, long story short, my ex is fine physically (we'll see if there is any lasting neurological damage in about a month). Thank you to everyone who responded to my incoherent, terrified texts and hoped (or even prayed) for my ex's recovery. And hey, thanks, TF. You might have helped save his life.

"IT IS FREE TACOS YES I AM SURE"

So I'm sick. Really sick.

I have strep (either that, or I tried to swallow a baseball and it got stuck). I am also feverish, dizzy, weak, and tired. My muscles ache.

My mother has behaved quite curiously over the course of today:

9 am: insisted I go to class
1 pm: insisted I be in bed, asked if there was anything she could bring me or do to make me feel better
4 pm: stopped by, asked again if I needed anything.
6 pm: called, yelled at me for not asking Dad for money, refused to lend me the one thing I need (to borrow her laptop so I can work on the four papers due this week in bed--she told me to write them in pencil) and refused to bring me anything else.

So now I'm in the library, struggling to concentrate and to write (my muscles are sore), in addition to barely being able to breathe through my swollen throat and experiencing immense pain with each swallow.

Basically it hurts to be awake. This sucks.

Adam: So what's the deal? You should still come out tonight!
me: You're at the [bar]? Is there a dude [there] with a cast on his right hand?
Adam: Not that I've seen. Why?
me: I have a feeling that if I show up and he's there, he's going to end up breaking his other hand on my FACE. Oh, how delightfully white trash.
Adam: What? I'd have to kick his ass first!
me: BAR FIGHT! I am SO there. :D

---

Concerning men...

Ant: You...might consider slowing down

View Larger Map

Just as beautiful as you are
Its so pitiful what you are
I should have seen this coming all along

Random quote of the day:

"I really hope you two didn't fuck in my bed."

...yeah, we did. :\

A rough draft of my thesis is due on Oct. 30.

Game 1 of the World Series starts at 7:00 tonight.

I have to work on my paper.

I cannot miss the game.

What is the solution?

Work on my thesis paper at the bar.

Two friends + laptops + beer + baseball = WIN

GO TAMPA BAY!

With every day that goes by, I'm becoming more and more aware that I have a type. I never really bought into that--most of the time I'm attracted to pretty much everything that moves, and all the men that I've dated look completely different from one another.

And most of that hasn't changed. I'll still flirt with, well, just about anyone who will flirt with me. But I'm beginning to catch myself looking at particular guys. They all have a certain look and attitude about them, and it drives me goddamn crazy.

I could just say they all look like one of my exes (who I just so happen to still be in love with), but I think it's more than that. In general, these dudes are a decent height, broader, maybe a little extra weight. They tend to have shorter hair, maybe a little spikey on top. Most have either one prominent tattoo or piercing, although this is less important. They tend to dress in nice jeans and a nicer, tighter-fitting t-shirt and nice shoes. But it's more than just the physical appearance. It's their attitude.

They're all fucking arrogant, or at the very least, extremely self-confident. They're funnier than hell, smarter than they look, and (in at least one case) willing to fuck me up in bed.

I really think that might be the biggest thing--I've had really good experiences with two of them, so I think they're all going to end up that way. Maybe there actually is some sort of connection; maybe the confidence and arrogance allows them to do things in bed that would make other men nervous or uncomfortable.

Maybe I should test that theory. I certainly wouldn't mind the field work. :P

As it is, I keep finding myself completely and utterly driven to distaction by these dudes. I actually have this physical reaction to them. It's not fair.

Or maybe I just need to get laid. Properly.

I need to have written at least 15 pages of a rough draft of my thesis by Oct. 30. My goal is to complete at least one page per day.

Even that modest goal is becoming increasingly overwhelming.

Fuck.

me: I just had one of those 'holy fuck, what year is it?' moments. That's, like, a thing, right? Other people have those?

Ant: no not really

me: I'm all, 'Congrats, Phillies, your '09 National League Champs'...wait, that looks wrong. Oh jeez, it's not 2009! What the hell year IS it?

---

I would like to present a challenge to every college-aged girl, particularly at my current institution, to go one full day without once using the word "like" except as a verb or in similie.

I would bet every penny I own that not ONE of them can accomplish this feat.

And it's, like, driving me, like, fucking crazy, oh my god!

---

GO RAYS!

I can't believe the Phils won last night.

Rays play game 4 tonight and game 5 on Thursday (both at 7:07), Phils play game 5 tomorrow night @ 7:22.

We're gonna have a Rays-Phillies World Series. I'm fucking pumped.