...that's Amore. Jimmy has a blog. Check it out. HERE!
Hullo Chumsy-Wumsy! I have nothing to post about...so this is just going to be a non-post, as it were.
"Calvin: You can't just turn on creativity like a faucet. You have to be in the right mood.
Hobbes: What mood is that?
Calvin: Last-minute panic." Right-o. After all, procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday. Since I like to take it a step further, I'm going to post about Spring Break...which I wanted to do awhile ago. I hope you enjoy wasting your time reading this...because obviously time you enjoyed wasting technically doesn't qualify as wasted time. Am I right, or am I right? Yeah I'm wrong, so sue me.
Spring Break Madness:
In order to celebrate the glorious freedom Spring Break affords young, hardworking, diligent, conscientious, brainy, clever, resourceful, punctual, too-humble-for-their-own-good college students like me, I invited myself over to the McIntire's house for a few days. Naturally they were absolutely thrilled, insisting that I invade their residence as soon as their busy schedule permitted. I obliged and arrived at their house Thursday night, around 7ish. I had thought they lived only 15 minutes away, on account of how much fun we girls had in the car driving up to their place the last time I slept over, so I convinced Dad to leave the kids alone at home (Mom and Jimmy were gone) to drive me over. *cough* Apparently, the McIntires don't live 15 minutes away from us. That caused a teensy bit of a fiasco, especially when Jonathan heard about the situation and offered his two cents.
Jonathan(whispering): "What if they're dead!?"
Thankfully, it all worked out. When Dad got back home the house was still standing, the shed hadn't burned down, and the kidders were in one piece. Separately. That is to say they were each their own whole, separate, unharmed, individual piece. I didn't mean that they were all jumbled together with duct tape or anything like that. Ah, the difficulties of grammar.
Meanwhile, back at the McIntire Residence...WE PLAYED FORT! Feel free to be jealous. For those of you who've lacked the pleasure, Fort is a strategy game that requires physical and intellectual stamina. Players could also benefit from acquiring an accurate throwing arm. It is a game so extraordinarily brilliant that only someone whose mad creative genius far surpasses my own could have thought to conceive it. Sacrilege, of course, since no such person exists. Credit must, however, go to Jonathan for coming very close with his superbly prodigious magnum opus of a game. The object of the game is for each person from the three teams to pummel opposing players with stuffed animals in the hopes that one of their throws miraculously hits its mark, thereby eliminating a player from an opposing team. Last time, Jonathan's aggressive bomb launching managed to knock down the walls of mine and Amy's fort. Terrified, I threw a blanket over myself and proceeded to do nothing but scream for two minutes straight while Amy tried valiantly, but ultimately failed, to defend our position. Jonathan won, to my utter disgrace and humiliation. This time around, I was determined to reclaim my dignity.
As I mentioned, there are three teams. Teams one and two each have a bunk bed that they convert into a fort using sheets and blankets that overlap in complicated ways. Amy is our resident fort maker extraordinaire. The last team, the one Jonathan is usually on, has no fort. With relatively little protection, Team 3 has fantastic offense, but insufficient defense leaves them vulnerable to early elimination. With the forts made, and our stuffed animals at the ready, the battle was about to begin. As per tradition, Jonathan picked a spooky song from the Braveheart soundtrack, and hit 'play'. Bombs Away! Amy and I 'killed' Sarah...that left Jonathan with Michelle as his lone teammate. Despite doing his best to remain in hiding, Daniel was 'killed' by a stray bomb, leaving Cristin to fend for herself in the other fort. A period of pointless volleying back and forth with words and cotton bombs ensued as each team struggled to devise a strategy. Jonathan, greedy for a repeat ending of our last epic battle, began to batter our fort with renewed purpose. Amy, eager for vengeance, inched forward a little too much. She must have stepped on sheet corner, because a portion of what was our fort suddenly fell away; exposing a gaping hole in our defenses. Amy, shocked, barely had time to register Jonathan's Scottish battle cry of victory as his beanie baby sailed through the air and finished her off.
Adrenaline rushed through my veins...I would not let him win. With a yelp I grabbed one of our remaining stuffed animals and threw it as hard as I could. As if in slow motion, my missile sliced through the air and, bulls-eye! It hit Jonathan's Adam's apple. (The small choking sound that escaped his lips was particularly satisfactory.) I was elated, victory was within sight! I threw a curve ball bomb, and, miraculously, Bunny the Rabbit sailed through the air in a perfect arc, hitting Cristin! So jubilant was I, rejoicing in my sure to be legendary conquest, that I failed to notice the silent, deadly enemy. Too late I turned around, only to feel the sickening thump of a cotton bomb slamming against my abdomen. Michelle, the patient assassin, had bided her time until opportunity presented itself. When the time was ripe, she pounced! So, in the century's most anticlimactic ending since Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Michelle stole my triumph causing Jonathan, by default, to win...again.
"Who says life is fair, where is that written?"
-William Goldman
How true, how grievously, insufferably, dreadfully, unfortunately true. You can go away now, I've so depressed myself by remembering the incident that I can't be bothered to end this post properly. I really can't be bothered.
All McIntires who read this post are required by law to leave a comment.
~**~**~**~**L**~**~**~** Ten MORE Things I Hate About College
1. Please DO NOT show me your belly button. I have one too, and I don't particularly need proof that yours exists.
2. Makeup should be applied with a brush, not a shovel.
3. Makeup should be worn only by girls. You're thinking that goes without saying right? Huh. Wrong.
4. Want a culture shock? Stop by the cafeteria and listen in on a group of students as they eat lunch.
Girl 1: Ugh. Can you buhlieve this? My taco is sooo soggeh.
Girl 2: Rully? That is sooo sad.
Guy: Fo reals? Dude, that stinks.
Girl 2: TacoBell is so, like, wrong.
Ahhh! people! It's a TACO! Are you kidding me?? Just. Eat. It.
5. All of you Neo-Nazi dudes with the creepy hairstyles and liberally applied eyeliner, it should be illegal to look that weird. What are you trying to do, terrify small children?
6. Girls, this is not high school. I will not yield my right to use the computer simply because you are wearing Jimmy Choo Sandals, and Valentino designed your sundress. The whole pout and glare thing doesn't phase me either. I was here first, find your own computer.
7. If one more skinny, peace sign flashing, hippy-looking, dread-lock sporting, Greenpeace advocate tries to get me to petition against the commercial exploitation of endangered baboons, I will break his clipboard over my knee.
8. I have to buy my own scantrons?? '“Remember, for the midterm on Thursday, you need to bring a scantron to the exam. I won’t have any for you,” my professor reminded us last week. Having paid ridiculous sums of money for tuition, with the sum likely to increase next year, the one thing I would expect the school to do is to provide students with the necessary test-taking materials at no cost whatsoever. Don’t you agree?' I do indeed.
9. It's terribly frustrating to forget your student I.D. on the day that In 'N Out is on campus giving away free lunches.
10. A few quotes...because I'm drawing a blank on college-related atrocities at the moment.
"Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond; cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education."
— Mark Twain
"There are few sources of energy so powerful as a procrastinating college student."
— Paul Graham
"Helen Keller was blind and deaf when she graduated from college with honors. So what's your problem?"
— Charles Stanley
Good day, Readers! May you have a blessed week!
