I seem to have some sort of magnetic field that attracts everyone who has zippo social skills, or zippo grasp of the American Language within a 50 mile radius.
Honestly.
The boy that sits next to me smells suspiciously of pizza vomit everyday. I know that I've been abnormally fixated on the topic of pizza vomit as of late, but it's just one of those smells you never forget.
The girl who sits behind me is the kind of person who offers up the most irrelevant comments I've ever heard (something about her birthday?). And...her laugh. OH, God, her laugh. Now, Fillmore is a funny character, I will admit. But not smack-your-leg, snort-cause-you're-laughing-so-hard, wheezing kind of funny.
I mean, only Smacky the Frog can elicit this kind of laughter.
Not that I ever snort.
Although I have been known to wheeze.
But where was I going here?
So these people.
I was thinking that one of these days I may just slip and accidentally throw my book at one of them.
I mean, I thought I was a problematic ass-kisser, but these people have lodged themselves so far up Fillmore's ass that I think one of them is actually poking out of his ear.
Or that's something else.
Oh, and yesterday, this rather bizarre man came up to me in the Classroom Building, and pointed to his copy of the Kernel, and said something to me. I have no idea what he said, since it was drenched in the thickest accent I've ever heard, so I just smiled and nodded. He continued to look at me as though he wanted something, so I pointed to my right and said, "It's over there." I think I sent him to Patterson. God only knows what he wanted.
Um, scary development on the Italian stalker front. He's calling no less than 4 times a day and hanging up. We know it's him, cause Shelly's been star-69-ing like it's going out of style. I'd recognize that cheesy Rolling Stones background music any day. I knew there was a reason I don't give out my number. I have a gift for attracting winners, I tell ya.
New sign for Alyssa:
"NO, I don't want to talk to you. NO, don't tell me about crossword puzzles you do from the New York Times. NO, you can't have my number. NO, I don't know where the engineering library is. NO I don't want a credit card, and NO, I'm not going to turn around and look at you, no matter how many times you hoot and holler at me!"
Is it possible to condense that into something smaller?
My apologies and a farewell??? - 2005-10-20
It should be Friday somewhere. - 2005-10-03
It's Friday again! - 2005-10-01
Amendment to previous entry... - 2005-09-26
Longer than I intended. It's to tide you over for another week. - 2005-09-23