Fashion Advice to Sorority Girls

Wearing Nike running shorts and Uggs at the same time is not logical. Nor is it cute, attractive, or in any way, shape, or form sexy. If you find yourself in that particular ensemble, topped with a pastel-colored tee-shirt that is a size and a half too small, you could be one of two things: severely confused as to the weather, or, a sorority girl on any given college campus across the country. Or both, now that I think of it.

And if you insist on wearing Uggs on a day where the sun is shining and blazing hot in freaking OKLAHOMA, at the very least, pick up your feet when you walk. I'm not demanding a high-step march, but the band geek in me wants to smack you as you shuffle down the Oval, chatting on your pink bedazzled iPhone about that totally cute guy from the party who you can't quite remember because you got a lot drunker than you promised yourself you would get. 

Yes, I can hear your conversations. And they're not very interesting. 

Heart, me.

Apparently, I'm Secretly a Dominatrix.

Today, I was talking to Boy. We were discussing relationships while doing homework, and all of a sudden, he says to me [because I had just smacked him], "You know what? I think one of the reasons guys find you attractive is because you smack them around, and deep down inside, all men have this fantasy of being completely dominated by a woman. Not in the whips-and-chains-and-torture-rooms way, but with enough leather and stilettos to cause a slight amount of pain." 

Okay...

I guess I can see the sexual nature of that sort of thing. But me? Really? I don't hit people too much. Well, maybe Prancer. But that's only because he sometimes deserves a well-placed smack. There's nothing sexual about it. 

According to Boy, all guys have a fantasy, secret or not, of being dominated by a woman. Not a woman who thy would except to be dominating, but someone unexpected. Like the quiet girl who sits across from them in class or something like that. 

Prancer, is this true? Do you have a secret fantasy of being dominated sexually by a quiet girl? 

Also according to Boy, I had the sexy-librarian-schoolgirl thing going on too at the moment. I was wearing my glasses because it was late and my eyes do funny things when I'm tired. And my hair was clipped up, but it had been getting in the way. Whatever. 

I guess if this whole Criminology thing tanks I can always be a dominatrix.

Oh, by the way, I officially declared my majors (Psychology and Criminology) and got sophomore standing last week. In case you were wondering why I was too stressed and busy to post a witty account of my life.

Heart, me

I'm Crazy As A Tater Tot.

I know I haven't posted anything for a few days. Why?

I'm going insane.

I've had so much homework, and projects, and exams, and papers, and [insert excuse here] that I haven't been able to go on FACEBOOK, much less write out a witty post for your perusal. 

And this one ain't gonna be witty either. 

It's actually one of those annoying this-is-why-I'm-not-writing affairs. And you've seen my excuses. 

When I Think of something entertaining, I promise I'll inform you. In the meantime, check out my Flickr, which hasn't been updated in a while, here.

Heart, me.

I Plan to Cuss You Out in Eight Languages. At Least.

There are over six billion people on Earth. How cool would it be to know what each and every one of them is saying? So, these are the languages I want to learn. And darn it, I intend to learn them all.

1: Hindi.

I figure I should probably learn this one. Indian and all. So my parents can't "talk in code." And Bollywood is hilarious. *bursts into song and dance* *rest of the floor joins in, perfectly synchronized*

2. Arabic.

Workin' on it. And it's slowly taking over my life.

3. French.

Seven years of French behind me. Now I'd actually like to learn it. From someone who isn't on maternity leave every year.

4. Chinese.

There's three billion people who speak Chinese. One more wouldn't hurt.

5. Italian.

It's pretty.

6. Russian.

I don't know. Seems like it would come in handy.

7. Spanish.

Eh. Why not?

8. Sign Language

Study Parties Rarely Lead to Actual Studying.

I'm sitting in the girls common room on my floor, and supposedly we're all studying together like good little girls. We've all got out laptops and textbooks, with our cute little notebooks and pens all spread out next to us on the couches, working on history and psychology and sociology and math.

Not really. 

We're all on Facebook. Every single one of us. Ninja had even brought out her record player for a while. It was rockin'. Right now we're discussing pies. Yeah. No homework is getting done at all. 

Now we're talking about sororities. Go team. 

This is the second time this week this has happened. 

We're so weird. 

We have odd discussions on this floor. The girls at least have finally started to bond. The guys still are in the "Ugh. You're so annoying." phase of living together. I think we need floor bonding events. Maybe we should have a Halloween party or something.

Look at me, acting like a little RA. Ugh I'll never be an RA. Our RA is impossibly sunny and bright and bubbly and basically the opposite of me. 

I think I'm gonna stop doing this, stop pretending to study, and go to sleep. 

Heart, me.

Make Up Your Own Darn Title.

Dear Arabic Quiz Tomorrow, 

I don't like you. Actually, I hate you. I despise the very thought of you. The last thing I want to do right now is stress over a quiz I'm going to get an A on. I'm not talking you down. I know I'm good at Arabic. You and your quizzical buddies are a minor inconvenience in my morning. The last thing I want to do the day after the quiz is talk to my friends who tanked it. It's an awkward conversation. 

Them: "So, what did you think of that quiz?"

Me: "Eh. Not Fantastic. Not soul-crushing."

Them: "Same! I think I did better this time. I got a 79%! That brings me up to a B! What did you get?"

Me: "...97%..."

Them: "Oh..."

See why it bothers me? There's nothing wrong with being smart, it's just I hate awkward situations, and telling someone you could've slept through a quiz they tanked is slightly awkward. So Arabic quiz, will you embrace your inner slut and maybe be a bit easier? Just so I can not have to explain to my friends that they are absolute nitwits who know nothing about learning a second language? And for the record, you are not my first. Nor ar you my second, or third. Silly Arabic, you are my fourth language. So there. I've had others. 

Cordially,

me

I Feel Really Stupid.

I like Boy. A lot. Unfortunately, he doesn't like me back. At all. I mean, he's fine with me in class. But that's it. And I need to accept that. But it's really hard to. And I feel all happy and bubbly once I get out of my class with him, but when I see him around, which I do a lot because we live on the same floor, he hardly talks to me. he'll smile, and then go on with his friends. I'm actually pretty sure he likes another girl who lives in my hall. 

I need to get over him. 

This is exactly what happened with Grumpy. I don't need it to happen again.

Sometimes I feel like I should be a nun. Give up on boys altogether. 

Heart, me.

Oops.

I guess I should apologize for that last post. I'm not usually so woe-is-me. After I posted I called Twin. Twelve times. No, she didn't answer. Boo. (wuv yew!) 

I still kinda feel like crap, but I'm not gonna think about it. Instead, I'm gonna introduce a new word. Actually, it's not a new word. I was only just introduced to it. The word?

"Nerdgasm."

Boy used it to describe his reaction to this article, because he's a linguistics major. What's linguistics, you ask? I believe it has something to do with languages. 

But now he's gone and set his Facebook status to a quote from the article. That makes me smile. There are some things that we both think about, but he's the one with the guts to say it. Stuff like "good grammar is sexy." I couldn't actually say that. Especially not on Facebook. Why? Because not only are my parents on Facebook, but also both stepparents, two out of four grandmothers, a few great-aunts, and I believe my great-grandma's got a fan page. I don't think they're quite aware of my...extensive vocabulary. So I'll keep it that way, and censor my witticisms. Until I get here, of course. Here, I'll cuss like a sailor. A pretty sailor. Maybe a pirate. I'd be a good pirate. I don't like rules all too much. Arr.

Heart, me.

Low Tolerance Means A Horrible Crash.

I'm coming down from a drug induced high. No, nothing illegal. I don't do that sort of stuff. I'm on a high dose of a pretty intense anti-depressant, and I was having a horrible morning yesterday so I took my medicine for the first time in about three weeks. My tolerance was almost completely gone. And with my blood issues, it was highly concentrated and fast acting, and it took for ever to leave my system. So I was off my rocker for most of the day. And night. But it started wearing off late last night, so I've been queasy ever since. I still feel like crap. I should go eat but I really don't want to. The thought of food nauseates me right now. Which is a bad thing, because I need to eat to dilute the medicine. And I feel like crap, and am having a horrible day, so it's really tempting to pop another pill to make the anxiety go away for a few hours. 

The worst part of my medicine is that I'm at the point where it just makes me numb and emotionless. It used to make me happy, but I had to move to a higher dose, and now I'm just numbed out all the time. It sucks. That's why I write so much. Talking to people about what bugs me really aggravates me, so if I can write it out in a semi-amusing format, I'm still putting it out there, but no one's psychoanalyzing me. 

Crap. I'm all dizzy and nauseated. 

I'm gonna go remedy this situation. Or at least try.

Heart, me.