I found this crazy story online this morning and i wanted to share it with you :)
This guy grew up in a town with 80 people, thats it, and he always wanted to get out, feeling like he was the only 1 that could really change his life. He finally moved to a town of an amazing 227 people, now he's just getting crazy!!! he lived there for a while and finally grew bored and then picked up his life again and realized that he had to move somewhere bigger, he searched for may years and finally found the perfect town with 3011 people. he loved this town and decided this is where he would spend the rest of his life. he died the next day.
just thought you would like to know, p.s. call levi
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Douche Bag
Okay, this is why I never stayed around anyone from back home that was a member.
Douche bags.
I got a message from facebook saying I got a message from one of them, and this guy that I hardly know, that I'm polite to, but never enough to really tell him anything about my life sience we were in the same class back in third grade sends me this fabulous note. . .
"Adam! your dating someone! That's awesome. I wish I was having the same luck. Congrats. Let me know how that is going for you. Hows school? Whats new?"
I don't even want to begin on how I feel about this, so I'll bring it all together in two words.
Douche bag.
Douche bags.
I got a message from facebook saying I got a message from one of them, and this guy that I hardly know, that I'm polite to, but never enough to really tell him anything about my life sience we were in the same class back in third grade sends me this fabulous note. . .
"Adam! your dating someone! That's awesome. I wish I was having the same luck. Congrats. Let me know how that is going for you. Hows school? Whats new?"
I don't even want to begin on how I feel about this, so I'll bring it all together in two words.
Douche bag.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
On a scale from 1-10 how awkward is this?
And now for a quick quote from my Eng 320 class. Weird girl stalking this guy's lips.
He didn’t say anything, and for a few moments we stared at each other. I couldn’t look him in the eyes—his stare threatened to knock me over backwards—so I focused on his mouth. I should have just looked away. His mouth wasn’t one of the thin-lipped varieties that seemed to be standard with the guys I’d met; his lips were magnificent and …regal maybe? He just looked like he could do a lot with those lips, and no I was not just thinking of kissing. I would be much too intimidated to come anywhere near those lips—they were commanding, and I knew that people must respect the words that escaped from those lips. And that was when his mouth wasn’t even moving.
He didn’t say anything, and for a few moments we stared at each other. I couldn’t look him in the eyes—his stare threatened to knock me over backwards—so I focused on his mouth. I should have just looked away. His mouth wasn’t one of the thin-lipped varieties that seemed to be standard with the guys I’d met; his lips were magnificent and …regal maybe? He just looked like he could do a lot with those lips, and no I was not just thinking of kissing. I would be much too intimidated to come anywhere near those lips—they were commanding, and I knew that people must respect the words that escaped from those lips. And that was when his mouth wasn’t even moving.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Ninja Cat!
Just because I need this before heading off to the testing center. . .
http://www.funnyjunk.com/movies/1524/Cat+Moves+Like+A+Ninja/
http://www.funnyjunk.com/movies/1524/Cat+Moves+Like+A+Ninja/
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
And finally!
This is the one that I wrote, being drunk is FUN!
Hotsome
Robert hugged his mom for the seventh time, hoping that she would finally let go. “I love you too, mom. You bought me a cell phone, remember?” He dreaded the consequences of saying this, but it was the only way that his mom would finally let go. “I’m only a phone call away.”
With the small dorm room all to himself Robert opened up the blinds to the bright August day. He looked out his window and already there was a group of guys playing basketball on the concrete court. As he turned on his stereo Robert realized that for the first time in eighteen years he was completely on his own, he smiled.
With only one suitcase to go the door rattled, a key grinded into the lock, and with only two suitcases and his backapck Robert’s new roommate, Tristan, came into the room.
“Hi, my name’s Tristan, you must be my roommate Robert,” Tristan said as he threw his backpack onto the empty bed and dropped both of his suitcases onto the floor.
They shook hands, but neither of them felt right about it. Shaking hands didn’t feel like the right thing to do with the person you were going to be living with for the next year, but there wasn’t a better option.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Both of them went to work on their respective suitcases. “So what are you studying?” Tristan asked, holding his arm over half of his suitcase and dumping the rest directly into a drawer, not worrying about making the tee-shirts fit nicely into it.
Robert was still folding his socks making sure each was matched with it‘s pair and fit in it‘s spot in the upper dresser drawer. “Mechanical engineering. You?”
“For now, film, but it’s changed about every month so far, so I’m not betting on it staying on this one either.” This time a batch of pants flopped into a dresser drawer. “Have a girlfriend?”
Robert finished up the last sock and started on the pile of underwear, folding them and finding just the right spot in the drawer. “Not this week, it changes about every week.”
Tristan smiled. “Oh, a ladies’ man. Congrats, it suits you well, not everyone can pull it off.”
Robert laughed at the idea of dating anyone besides Laura. “It’s not like that. It’s only one girl. She and I just don’t see eye to eye all the time.”
Tristan moaned and put his hand on his forehead as if to massage away an oncoming headache. “Please do not tell me that you’re willing to put up with a girl that yo-yo’s.”
“Yo-yo’s?”
“You know, one day she loves you, the next she hates you. Up and down, over and over, like a yo-yo.”
Robert could only think of one thing: I’m willing to put up, if she’s willing to put out. “It’s not like that, it’s just that time of the month, she’s irritable. She says it’s like getting stabbed in the stomach for three days of every month. I’d yo-yo too if that was me.” Robert tried not to think about Laura too much; things never went well when he did. His mind would drift off about her, and everything else in the world would be background noise, which wasn’t always the best thing.
An hour passed and the room looked like it had been lived in for months. Robert’s side was the one with the sheets on the bed perfectly tucked in, books lined up on the bookshelf by height, and a picture of his family on the desktop right next to the only other object on the desk, his laptop. Tristan’s side appeared as if he had lived there for years; the sheets on the bed were thrown on in hopes of covering the majority of the mattress, clothes were sticking out of the drawers, and pictures, posters, flyers, newspaper clippings, and anything else that piqued his interest were on the cork board next to his bed.
That evening both roommates got ready for bed at the same time. Robert got on his green flannel pajama bottoms along with his high school madrigal choir shirt, brushed the recommended two minutes, and flossed each gap between his whitened teeth. Tristan gave his teeth a once-over with his brush, making sure that there was no food stuck in the back of his mouth, stripped down to his boxers and burrowed into his nest of blankets. Robert turned off the light, said his evening prayers right next to his bed and then got into his bed; not underneath the lowest sheet, but between the two sheets that he put on the bed so that there could be two layers between him and the dorm room bed that had been used by countless freshmen.
After a few minutes of nothing Tristan finally broke the taboo silence. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to get to sleep, I never have gone to sleep before midnight. How about we do it this way? We’ll be perfectly honest with each other. Nothing is taboo, no rules, any question is par. What do you say? You in?”
Robert didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to open up to this new person but at the same time he didn’t want to close himself off to his roommate. “Sure.”
The bundle of blankets and body shifted on Tristan’s bed, signaling that he had rolled over to look over to Robert. “I’ll let you go first then. Any question you want. Ask away.”
Robert had no clue where to start. He never had a person that was willing to be so open with him, so he stuck with the safe zone. “How many kids are in your family?”
“Stop. I am not going to do this if you’re going to ask questions like that.” A hand came out of the mass of blankets and started to sign the conversation, emphasizing the conversation at all of the right points with a stressed point or a wave in the air. “We’re not going to be friends by knowing each other’s favorite colors or how many people are in my family. Come on, any question. You can’t offend me, go for it.”
Robert thought for a moment, “Have you ever been kissed?” It was a simple question for this game that Tristan wanted to play. It pried a bit, but didn’t dig too deep.
“No. Have you ever gotten drunk?”
Robert wanted to fall asleep right then and there. It’s not normal for a person going to BYU to know his favorite cocktail. If he said no he’d be lying and breaking his roommate’s trust, but if Robert told him the truth he’d have to deal with everyone knowing that he wasn’t exactly the most pious member of a religion. Then there was also the chance that Tristan was like him: the few, the proud, the people who live their own lives. “What about you? Have you ever gotten drunk?”
Tristan wanted nothing to do with it. “You can’t weasel out that easily. Have you ever had too much to drink that you have a hangover the next morning?”
Robert had to answer the question. He couldn’t fall asleep because that would be awkward, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and say that, that question was too personal and he didn’t want to answer it. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
Tristan kicked his blankets off just a bit to look across the claustrophobic dorm room at Robert. “So?”
Robert gave up with the simple thought, screw it, passing through his mind before he said, “Yes. I used to get drunk quite a bit. I haven’t gotten wasted here. It’s too hard to get a hold of some good vodka in this town. What about you?”
“Nope, I’ve never touched the stuff a day in my life.”
Some choice cuss words came to Robert’s mind. He let out one thing that he never wanted anyone to know, and he let it go with a person that would never understand him. “I’m going to sleep.”
Roberts alarm clock started to ring, but he refused to wake up and get out of bed, Tristan was awake. If there was something that he did not want to deal with, it was Tristan. He opened up about his life, and he thought that it didn’t go over well with Tristan. He didn’t want to get up but Tristan kicked his bed, “Hey, wake up. I’m awake and I don’t even like that clock, I don’t know how you can sleep through that.”
Robert pushed the sheets down, climbed out of bed, and headed towards the communal bathroom to take a shower. When he got into the white tile room, the rush of water splashing against tile and skin filled the steamy air. Next to the two stalls was one other guy only in a towel waiting for his turn.
Robert, in what seemed to be a reflex, turned around and left. He had already screwed up with introducing himself with his roommate, he didn’t want it to happen again with another stranger. He took his hypoallergenic soap and shampoo up one floor and to his delight no one was in that bathroom.
Robert thought about the day ahead of him as he was showering off, the only thing that he had to rely on in this new city, was the structure that he put into his own life. No one was going to tell him where to be, what to do, or any other direction within his life, however instead of finding joy in this, he only found stress in it. He started to plan his life, taking each hour of his day and scheduling a productive activity for that hour. It was college, it wasn’t play time, and he was ready to act like a college student.
Robert’s day went as planned. He went to every orientation, studied over every paper that was given to him, and after he bought his books he spent the rest of his evening in the library reading the first chapter of each book. As midnight came closer, he didn’t want to go back to his bed. The thought of sleeping outside or in the dorm’s lobby sounded more appealing then trying to face Tristan again.
The driving factor for Robert to return to his bed was his toothbrush. It had been six hours since he had last brushed his teeth, and the thought of not brushing his teeth before going to bed was strong enough to make him go back to his dorm room.
He got onto the floor and the stench of twenty eight guys filled his nose. It was a bad mix of sweat, bad cologne, and the harsh cleaning chemicals that were used only a few days earlier. Music seemed to come from every door, guys wandered from room to room in different states of dress, getting to know each other.
Robert’s door was unlocked but no one was inside. He took it as his chance to get ready for bed before Tristan got home. He washed his face, made sure that every tooth was tartar free, and swished around a small cup of mouthwash.
The mint flavor made his mind skip to a party where he had his first mojito. The kick of the mouthwash only made him remember the burn of the masked rum behind the flavors of the mint and lime. The rest of that night, or at least the parts that he was conscious enough to remember came to his mind. It was a fun night, he was able to relax with his friends and just laugh with them. He could still remember the three of them sitting on the soft sofa watching the late night info-mercials. It was funny how serious people would become about mundane things.
“You sure look happy for using mouth wash.”
Robert spun around and saw Tristan there, laughing. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that you’re having fun with whatever it was that you were thinking about.” Tristan put his backpack down and dove onto his pile of blankets. “So, what was it that you were thinking about? Laura?”
Robert was a little thrown by Tristan knowing who his girlfriend was back home, but then he remembered that he told Tristan that the first night, right along side him liking alcohol. “Uh, no. I was just remembering something I did back at home.”
“You did things at home? From what I can tell you just study and work all day long. School hasn’t even started yet and no one here has even seen you today.” Tristan said, working on untying his shoes. “We have some cool neighbors, they’re probably still up. Want to meet them?”
“No.” Tristan raised his eyebrow from just how abrupt the answer was. “I mean, not right now, I have to get to sleep so that I can be ready for tomorrow.”
Tristan got his shoes off and tossed them towards his closet. “What do you have tomorrow? The first day of class doesn’t start until next week. You still have three days.”
Robert didn’t want to get to know people, he didn’t want to hurt his reputation any more. If he was going to be known as anything at campus he was going to be a student, not a drunk. He couldn’t let it get to him. The mouth wash wasn’t helping either, even though it helped him go to sleep, it only made him crave a shot, or at least a mug of beer. “I just want to be ready.”
“Okay, you spend all the time you want getting ready, but on Saturday, you’re going to relax. Sooner or later the people you share a bathroom with are going to want to know what your name is.”
Thursday and Friday were spent by Robert making plans, perfecting his walking paths from one class to the next, organizing his life, and trying to not think about home. Each hour alone by himself in the basement of the library only made the situation worse because he was left with nothing to think about except for random books pulled from bookshelves around him, or his own thoughts that constantly led towards the one thing he didn’t want to be.
The two days were spent by everyone, wondering who Robert was. He would greet people with a cold hi, and would spend any time in his dorm in his room. Socializing was not an option, no one there he thought would understand him, and the thirst that he felt. The theory that he gained in those two days was, if they aren’t you they won’t understand you, so why try?
Saturday morning came and Robert’s alarm clock did not ring when he set it. Robert, well rested, but three hours behind schedule woke up at ten, to Tristan on his laptop playing a game of spider solitaire.
“Morning sleepy head, I thought you were tired. You’re welcome that I let you sleep in.”
Robert checked his watch and a pang of panic raced through his chest, three hours behind schedule was nowhere he wanted to be. “Why didn’t you wake me up if you heard my alarm clock go off?”
“First off, I’m not your mother, so I won’t keep track of you getting to school on time. Second off, I didn’t hear your alarm clock because I told you today you were going to relax, so I turned it off last night when I came home from that party. Which, by the way, you should have gone to.”
“You turned off my alarm clock?” Robert sat up, propping himself against his bed with his arm to look at Tristan. “What were you thinking? You have no rite to do that.”
“Don’t get angry. What was it that you even missed? Spending more time with yourself? Or did you have scheduled in trying to act like you’re better than the rest of us, because that seems to have been in your plan a lot lately,” Tristan shot back. “What’s so dreadful about missing out on that time?”
“I don’t want to deal with this. I’m out of here.” Robert got out of bed, put on a pair of pants, and sandals. He made it out of the dorm when he realized that he had no where to go. The library was closed, he couldn’t go back to his dorm room, and all of the buildings on campus were closed too. He started to walk, not knowing where he was going, but instead randomly turning down streets hopping that he could remember where he came from.
At dinner time Robert made it back to his dorm, and looked happy. “Tristan, I’m sorry, I was just a little under the weather and just did whatever I did because I was doing it.”
The pile of blankets that Robert had thought Tristan was hiding in didn’t respond. “Tristan?” He patted down the blankets and there was no one in them, so he opened up the door and yelled out, “Tristan? Where are you!?”
Tristan yelled back, “Down here, what do you need?”
“I just want to say that I love you! And that, you, and that you, are, you AWSOME! You are awesome!”
Tristan left the other room and walked down to his bedroom, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so nice to me, and you always are looking out for me and you are just there.” Robert said as he put his arm up on Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re awesome.”
The stench of Robert’s breath pushed Tristan back a few inches. “Thanks. How about we go inside our room? Okay?”
“See that’s what I’m talking about, you always have these great ideas that are just so awesome.” Robert yelled out, “My roommate is awesome!” one more time before Tristan was able to push him inside and onto his bed.
Tristan pulled his desk chair over to Robert‘s bed and sat down on it. “On a scale of 1-10 how wasted are you?”
Robert put his hands up about a foot apart from each other, “I’m this many.”
Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m assuming that you’re a happy drunk, no?”
“And a frisky one too. If you weren’t a guy I’d probably try to make out with you.” A hiccup that was a little too close to the noise of throwing up stopped Robert for a few seconds, “But if I had just a few more shots, I’d be willing to make out with you too. You’re hot, and awesome. You’re hotsome.”
Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing his straight laced roommate finally stop and be his true self. “How much of this are you going to remember tomorrow?”
“None, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t think you’re hotsome any more. That will stick, like rice on fish.”
“I think I like you better this way,” Tristan said realizing how his love filled drunken roommate would take that, “being drunk that is.”
“I like drunks too.” Robert stood up and staggered towards the door. “Let’s go find one.”
Hotsome
Robert hugged his mom for the seventh time, hoping that she would finally let go. “I love you too, mom. You bought me a cell phone, remember?” He dreaded the consequences of saying this, but it was the only way that his mom would finally let go. “I’m only a phone call away.”
With the small dorm room all to himself Robert opened up the blinds to the bright August day. He looked out his window and already there was a group of guys playing basketball on the concrete court. As he turned on his stereo Robert realized that for the first time in eighteen years he was completely on his own, he smiled.
With only one suitcase to go the door rattled, a key grinded into the lock, and with only two suitcases and his backapck Robert’s new roommate, Tristan, came into the room.
“Hi, my name’s Tristan, you must be my roommate Robert,” Tristan said as he threw his backpack onto the empty bed and dropped both of his suitcases onto the floor.
They shook hands, but neither of them felt right about it. Shaking hands didn’t feel like the right thing to do with the person you were going to be living with for the next year, but there wasn’t a better option.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Both of them went to work on their respective suitcases. “So what are you studying?” Tristan asked, holding his arm over half of his suitcase and dumping the rest directly into a drawer, not worrying about making the tee-shirts fit nicely into it.
Robert was still folding his socks making sure each was matched with it‘s pair and fit in it‘s spot in the upper dresser drawer. “Mechanical engineering. You?”
“For now, film, but it’s changed about every month so far, so I’m not betting on it staying on this one either.” This time a batch of pants flopped into a dresser drawer. “Have a girlfriend?”
Robert finished up the last sock and started on the pile of underwear, folding them and finding just the right spot in the drawer. “Not this week, it changes about every week.”
Tristan smiled. “Oh, a ladies’ man. Congrats, it suits you well, not everyone can pull it off.”
Robert laughed at the idea of dating anyone besides Laura. “It’s not like that. It’s only one girl. She and I just don’t see eye to eye all the time.”
Tristan moaned and put his hand on his forehead as if to massage away an oncoming headache. “Please do not tell me that you’re willing to put up with a girl that yo-yo’s.”
“Yo-yo’s?”
“You know, one day she loves you, the next she hates you. Up and down, over and over, like a yo-yo.”
Robert could only think of one thing: I’m willing to put up, if she’s willing to put out. “It’s not like that, it’s just that time of the month, she’s irritable. She says it’s like getting stabbed in the stomach for three days of every month. I’d yo-yo too if that was me.” Robert tried not to think about Laura too much; things never went well when he did. His mind would drift off about her, and everything else in the world would be background noise, which wasn’t always the best thing.
An hour passed and the room looked like it had been lived in for months. Robert’s side was the one with the sheets on the bed perfectly tucked in, books lined up on the bookshelf by height, and a picture of his family on the desktop right next to the only other object on the desk, his laptop. Tristan’s side appeared as if he had lived there for years; the sheets on the bed were thrown on in hopes of covering the majority of the mattress, clothes were sticking out of the drawers, and pictures, posters, flyers, newspaper clippings, and anything else that piqued his interest were on the cork board next to his bed.
That evening both roommates got ready for bed at the same time. Robert got on his green flannel pajama bottoms along with his high school madrigal choir shirt, brushed the recommended two minutes, and flossed each gap between his whitened teeth. Tristan gave his teeth a once-over with his brush, making sure that there was no food stuck in the back of his mouth, stripped down to his boxers and burrowed into his nest of blankets. Robert turned off the light, said his evening prayers right next to his bed and then got into his bed; not underneath the lowest sheet, but between the two sheets that he put on the bed so that there could be two layers between him and the dorm room bed that had been used by countless freshmen.
After a few minutes of nothing Tristan finally broke the taboo silence. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to get to sleep, I never have gone to sleep before midnight. How about we do it this way? We’ll be perfectly honest with each other. Nothing is taboo, no rules, any question is par. What do you say? You in?”
Robert didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to open up to this new person but at the same time he didn’t want to close himself off to his roommate. “Sure.”
The bundle of blankets and body shifted on Tristan’s bed, signaling that he had rolled over to look over to Robert. “I’ll let you go first then. Any question you want. Ask away.”
Robert had no clue where to start. He never had a person that was willing to be so open with him, so he stuck with the safe zone. “How many kids are in your family?”
“Stop. I am not going to do this if you’re going to ask questions like that.” A hand came out of the mass of blankets and started to sign the conversation, emphasizing the conversation at all of the right points with a stressed point or a wave in the air. “We’re not going to be friends by knowing each other’s favorite colors or how many people are in my family. Come on, any question. You can’t offend me, go for it.”
Robert thought for a moment, “Have you ever been kissed?” It was a simple question for this game that Tristan wanted to play. It pried a bit, but didn’t dig too deep.
“No. Have you ever gotten drunk?”
Robert wanted to fall asleep right then and there. It’s not normal for a person going to BYU to know his favorite cocktail. If he said no he’d be lying and breaking his roommate’s trust, but if Robert told him the truth he’d have to deal with everyone knowing that he wasn’t exactly the most pious member of a religion. Then there was also the chance that Tristan was like him: the few, the proud, the people who live their own lives. “What about you? Have you ever gotten drunk?”
Tristan wanted nothing to do with it. “You can’t weasel out that easily. Have you ever had too much to drink that you have a hangover the next morning?”
Robert had to answer the question. He couldn’t fall asleep because that would be awkward, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and say that, that question was too personal and he didn’t want to answer it. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
Tristan kicked his blankets off just a bit to look across the claustrophobic dorm room at Robert. “So?”
Robert gave up with the simple thought, screw it, passing through his mind before he said, “Yes. I used to get drunk quite a bit. I haven’t gotten wasted here. It’s too hard to get a hold of some good vodka in this town. What about you?”
“Nope, I’ve never touched the stuff a day in my life.”
Some choice cuss words came to Robert’s mind. He let out one thing that he never wanted anyone to know, and he let it go with a person that would never understand him. “I’m going to sleep.”
Roberts alarm clock started to ring, but he refused to wake up and get out of bed, Tristan was awake. If there was something that he did not want to deal with, it was Tristan. He opened up about his life, and he thought that it didn’t go over well with Tristan. He didn’t want to get up but Tristan kicked his bed, “Hey, wake up. I’m awake and I don’t even like that clock, I don’t know how you can sleep through that.”
Robert pushed the sheets down, climbed out of bed, and headed towards the communal bathroom to take a shower. When he got into the white tile room, the rush of water splashing against tile and skin filled the steamy air. Next to the two stalls was one other guy only in a towel waiting for his turn.
Robert, in what seemed to be a reflex, turned around and left. He had already screwed up with introducing himself with his roommate, he didn’t want it to happen again with another stranger. He took his hypoallergenic soap and shampoo up one floor and to his delight no one was in that bathroom.
Robert thought about the day ahead of him as he was showering off, the only thing that he had to rely on in this new city, was the structure that he put into his own life. No one was going to tell him where to be, what to do, or any other direction within his life, however instead of finding joy in this, he only found stress in it. He started to plan his life, taking each hour of his day and scheduling a productive activity for that hour. It was college, it wasn’t play time, and he was ready to act like a college student.
Robert’s day went as planned. He went to every orientation, studied over every paper that was given to him, and after he bought his books he spent the rest of his evening in the library reading the first chapter of each book. As midnight came closer, he didn’t want to go back to his bed. The thought of sleeping outside or in the dorm’s lobby sounded more appealing then trying to face Tristan again.
The driving factor for Robert to return to his bed was his toothbrush. It had been six hours since he had last brushed his teeth, and the thought of not brushing his teeth before going to bed was strong enough to make him go back to his dorm room.
He got onto the floor and the stench of twenty eight guys filled his nose. It was a bad mix of sweat, bad cologne, and the harsh cleaning chemicals that were used only a few days earlier. Music seemed to come from every door, guys wandered from room to room in different states of dress, getting to know each other.
Robert’s door was unlocked but no one was inside. He took it as his chance to get ready for bed before Tristan got home. He washed his face, made sure that every tooth was tartar free, and swished around a small cup of mouthwash.
The mint flavor made his mind skip to a party where he had his first mojito. The kick of the mouthwash only made him remember the burn of the masked rum behind the flavors of the mint and lime. The rest of that night, or at least the parts that he was conscious enough to remember came to his mind. It was a fun night, he was able to relax with his friends and just laugh with them. He could still remember the three of them sitting on the soft sofa watching the late night info-mercials. It was funny how serious people would become about mundane things.
“You sure look happy for using mouth wash.”
Robert spun around and saw Tristan there, laughing. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that you’re having fun with whatever it was that you were thinking about.” Tristan put his backpack down and dove onto his pile of blankets. “So, what was it that you were thinking about? Laura?”
Robert was a little thrown by Tristan knowing who his girlfriend was back home, but then he remembered that he told Tristan that the first night, right along side him liking alcohol. “Uh, no. I was just remembering something I did back at home.”
“You did things at home? From what I can tell you just study and work all day long. School hasn’t even started yet and no one here has even seen you today.” Tristan said, working on untying his shoes. “We have some cool neighbors, they’re probably still up. Want to meet them?”
“No.” Tristan raised his eyebrow from just how abrupt the answer was. “I mean, not right now, I have to get to sleep so that I can be ready for tomorrow.”
Tristan got his shoes off and tossed them towards his closet. “What do you have tomorrow? The first day of class doesn’t start until next week. You still have three days.”
Robert didn’t want to get to know people, he didn’t want to hurt his reputation any more. If he was going to be known as anything at campus he was going to be a student, not a drunk. He couldn’t let it get to him. The mouth wash wasn’t helping either, even though it helped him go to sleep, it only made him crave a shot, or at least a mug of beer. “I just want to be ready.”
“Okay, you spend all the time you want getting ready, but on Saturday, you’re going to relax. Sooner or later the people you share a bathroom with are going to want to know what your name is.”
Thursday and Friday were spent by Robert making plans, perfecting his walking paths from one class to the next, organizing his life, and trying to not think about home. Each hour alone by himself in the basement of the library only made the situation worse because he was left with nothing to think about except for random books pulled from bookshelves around him, or his own thoughts that constantly led towards the one thing he didn’t want to be.
The two days were spent by everyone, wondering who Robert was. He would greet people with a cold hi, and would spend any time in his dorm in his room. Socializing was not an option, no one there he thought would understand him, and the thirst that he felt. The theory that he gained in those two days was, if they aren’t you they won’t understand you, so why try?
Saturday morning came and Robert’s alarm clock did not ring when he set it. Robert, well rested, but three hours behind schedule woke up at ten, to Tristan on his laptop playing a game of spider solitaire.
“Morning sleepy head, I thought you were tired. You’re welcome that I let you sleep in.”
Robert checked his watch and a pang of panic raced through his chest, three hours behind schedule was nowhere he wanted to be. “Why didn’t you wake me up if you heard my alarm clock go off?”
“First off, I’m not your mother, so I won’t keep track of you getting to school on time. Second off, I didn’t hear your alarm clock because I told you today you were going to relax, so I turned it off last night when I came home from that party. Which, by the way, you should have gone to.”
“You turned off my alarm clock?” Robert sat up, propping himself against his bed with his arm to look at Tristan. “What were you thinking? You have no rite to do that.”
“Don’t get angry. What was it that you even missed? Spending more time with yourself? Or did you have scheduled in trying to act like you’re better than the rest of us, because that seems to have been in your plan a lot lately,” Tristan shot back. “What’s so dreadful about missing out on that time?”
“I don’t want to deal with this. I’m out of here.” Robert got out of bed, put on a pair of pants, and sandals. He made it out of the dorm when he realized that he had no where to go. The library was closed, he couldn’t go back to his dorm room, and all of the buildings on campus were closed too. He started to walk, not knowing where he was going, but instead randomly turning down streets hopping that he could remember where he came from.
At dinner time Robert made it back to his dorm, and looked happy. “Tristan, I’m sorry, I was just a little under the weather and just did whatever I did because I was doing it.”
The pile of blankets that Robert had thought Tristan was hiding in didn’t respond. “Tristan?” He patted down the blankets and there was no one in them, so he opened up the door and yelled out, “Tristan? Where are you!?”
Tristan yelled back, “Down here, what do you need?”
“I just want to say that I love you! And that, you, and that you, are, you AWSOME! You are awesome!”
Tristan left the other room and walked down to his bedroom, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re so nice to me, and you always are looking out for me and you are just there.” Robert said as he put his arm up on Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re awesome.”
The stench of Robert’s breath pushed Tristan back a few inches. “Thanks. How about we go inside our room? Okay?”
“See that’s what I’m talking about, you always have these great ideas that are just so awesome.” Robert yelled out, “My roommate is awesome!” one more time before Tristan was able to push him inside and onto his bed.
Tristan pulled his desk chair over to Robert‘s bed and sat down on it. “On a scale of 1-10 how wasted are you?”
Robert put his hands up about a foot apart from each other, “I’m this many.”
Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m assuming that you’re a happy drunk, no?”
“And a frisky one too. If you weren’t a guy I’d probably try to make out with you.” A hiccup that was a little too close to the noise of throwing up stopped Robert for a few seconds, “But if I had just a few more shots, I’d be willing to make out with you too. You’re hot, and awesome. You’re hotsome.”
Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing his straight laced roommate finally stop and be his true self. “How much of this are you going to remember tomorrow?”
“None, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t think you’re hotsome any more. That will stick, like rice on fish.”
“I think I like you better this way,” Tristan said realizing how his love filled drunken roommate would take that, “being drunk that is.”
“I like drunks too.” Robert stood up and staggered towards the door. “Let’s go find one.”
The nice little story from English 320
Biology of Rae
Chapter 1
I leaned over the prostrate fetal pig, held my breath, and looked down. Its pale green-white skin triggered my gag reflex and I had to gasp for air. I opened my mouth, but inhaling that odor felt like I was licking the four-legged lump on the lab tray. I snapped my mouth shut and sucked a breath in through my nose. Formaldehyde. Pickled pig. Its acrid smell matched the pre-vomit taste burning in the back of my throat.
“Make the first incision in the center of the chest cavity. Apply steady pressure, no sawing motions,” instructed Dr. Bowman. I wasn’t about to apply pressure to anything but the hand clamped firmly over my mouth. Thank goodness for lab partners. I grimaced at Jameson.
He was the ideal lab partner—good at science and too nice to let a woozy girl get her hands dirty with dissection. He tossed his head, flicking a stray honey-brown curl out of his eyes, and grinned. He always did that, taking my intense expressions and mirroring them back at me in an exponentially positive way. When he smiles, the ground wobbles—or maybe that’s just me. His smiles are wide enough to shake the earth all the way in California; they should be measured on the Richter scale. This grin was a 4.7.
“If you don’t breath, you’ll pass out,” he said.
“If I do breath I’ll pass out,” I replied.
“If you’re gonna pass out anyway, you might as well breathe while you’re doing it.”
I loosened my grip on my mouth and took a tentative breath. No way. I clamped my hand back over my mouth and shook my head vigorously, my sharp elbow carving a crescent in the air. On the third shake it collided with something squishy—something squishy that gasped. Dr. Bowman was at my shoulder, now cradling his abdomen.
“Miss Peris, I’ll need to see you after class,” he panted. I gulped. Dr. Bowman returned his attention to the class. I turned to Jameson in panic.
“Can they give you detention in college?” I said.
He shook his head. “No, he’ll probably just kill you and preserve your body in formaldehyde for future students to dissect.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a pest.” The bell rang. In a flurry of notebooks, rubber gloves, and pig parts, the classroom cleared around me. Jameson winked encouragement as he ducked out the door. I gathered my books, prolonging the trudge to Dr. Bowman’s desk.
“You seem to be struggling in class,” sad Dr. Bowman. I nodded. School had only been in session for two weeks and already I was getting in trouble. “Is your lab partner distracting you?” Jameson? Distracting me? Hardly! My voice had decided to take a vacation, so all I could do was wobble my head “no” like a dash-board ornament.
“That’s good to know. In any case, I think you might be looking for extra credit opportunities, am I right?”
I wobbled my head yes.
“I need a writing assistant,” said Dr. Bowman. I stopped wobbling. A writing assistant? Was he serious?
My voice came back from its cruise to the Bahamas. “Dr. Bowman, I don’t know anything about biology. I am hardly pulling a B in your Bio 100 class as it is.”
“I know. But no one else turns in papers with quite as much rhetorical flair as you do.” True, I was probably the only student in the history of the school to describe the nomenclature system as pulchritudinous. Dr. Bowman continued, “I am working on some articles to submit to the journal of Reproductive Biology and Endocrinology. And I need an editor.”
I negotiated for 10% extra credit and we closed the deal. He would have a writing assistant and, with Jameson’s help and a 10% extra credit boost, I might just not fail biology.
Chapter 2
The door to room number 912 stood open. The elevator was broken, so I had hiked the eight flights of stairs lugging a backpack heavier than a small child. I stopped short of the entrance and sagged against the wall, trying desperately to catch my breath before going in. It didn’t help. My mouth still felt like I had swallowed Velcro and my lungs screamed obscenities at me. Oh well. They’d get over it. I squared my shoulders and stepped into the doorway.
Kelly, my lanky blond roommate, was sprawled out on the bed nearest the door with her boyfriend Ronny. She always looked lankier like that, wrapped around Mr. Neon-blue Mohawk. I cleared my throat uncomfortably.
Twice.
Finally Mr. Mohawk came up for air. He glanced at the nuisance that had interrupted his Friday afternoon and was sent sprawling as Kelly jumped to her feet. Like a peppy volcano she erupted with gossip, spewing juicy tidbits in her wake as she paced. She didn’t walk—she float-pranced, like a gazelle strapped to helium balloons.
I plopped down on my bed and squinted to see Kelly against the backdrop of her walls. Kelly’s half of the room exploded with color. Her bed was spread with a shockingly pink quilt and topped with a mountain of every-colored pillow, so many that it appeared she was sandbagging her bed for war with the gay community. Pop band posters bloomed on the walls, a tribute to every sappy music chapter since 5th grade.
I laid back, nestling my head into my white pillowcase, staring up at my white ceiling and my white walls. Ahhhh, how soothing. Mohawk Man was still on the floor, reading a discarded copy of Seventeen. From his intermittent snickering I assumed he had discovered the intimacy section. Kelly continued to simmer.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Kelly said.
“What?” I had been tuning out her chatter, but that statement pulled me upright like reigns on a horse—the mention of a “he” other than Ronny in our dorm. I lunged out of bed, falling like an unsteady colt. My eyes rolled over the untidy heaps coming out of the floor like anthills. Candy wrappers. Books. Underwear. They all had to be moved, stat.
“Tell me more about this guy,” I said, stuffing laundry into my hamper.
Kelly smirked. She knew I hadn’t been listening. “His name is Grant and he’s in my Philosophy class. And he’s dreamy.” I wonder why Ronny was never bothered by Kelly’s admiration of other boys. He didn’t even seem to mind that she got hit on every day. I mean, it made sense. She was the human incarnation of Barbie.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THIS IS WAY LATER IN THE BOOK
“Mail’s here!” yelled Kelly. She danced in waving a handful of envelopes. She tossed the junk mail on my desk and started opening the other five letters as she climbed through her pillows onto her bed. “Derek, Tom, Michael, Hank . . . hey Rae! You got a real letter!” She flung it at me Frisbee style and it skidded under my bed.
“Thanks.” I got down on my hands and knees and fished the packet out from the dust bunnies and debris. A letter? Who would be sending me a letter? Mom would never take the time to write. I examined the envelope. The direction was typed, but it didn’t have a stamp. Someone would have had to put the letter in our box personally.
I opened the flap and drew out a single typed sheet:
Dearest Rae,
Don’t move
the perfect arc of cheek
against my hand,
the trickling, tickling breath
upon my thumb,
the eyelash veil hiding
the reflection of my soul.
Don’t move
the graceful curve of throat
beneath my fingers,
the lips that form my name
against my palm.
Don’t move.
Don’t move, my love,
or I will kill you.
I stared at the innocuous white page and black letters—so precise, so neat. So menacing. My hand began to shake. I felt like I was inhaling swamp water.
“Kelly,” I choked around an imaginary clod of bog. She looked up from her pile of fan mail and saw me flapping my letter in the air like Gilligan trying to flag down a rescue plane. She pranced over and leaped on my bed.
“Is it from a boy?” she asked. I thrust the letter at her, anxious to get it out of my hands. I hugged my knees to my chest and watched Kelly’s face as I sang Jail House Rock loudly in my head. Kelly’s look of mischievous anticipation faded into a furrowed brow and then into a wrinkle of disgust.
“Creepy! Who writes stuff like that? You should call the cops,” Kelly said. She studied the note again. “Yep, definitely creepy.”
Chapter 1
I leaned over the prostrate fetal pig, held my breath, and looked down. Its pale green-white skin triggered my gag reflex and I had to gasp for air. I opened my mouth, but inhaling that odor felt like I was licking the four-legged lump on the lab tray. I snapped my mouth shut and sucked a breath in through my nose. Formaldehyde. Pickled pig. Its acrid smell matched the pre-vomit taste burning in the back of my throat.
“Make the first incision in the center of the chest cavity. Apply steady pressure, no sawing motions,” instructed Dr. Bowman. I wasn’t about to apply pressure to anything but the hand clamped firmly over my mouth. Thank goodness for lab partners. I grimaced at Jameson.
He was the ideal lab partner—good at science and too nice to let a woozy girl get her hands dirty with dissection. He tossed his head, flicking a stray honey-brown curl out of his eyes, and grinned. He always did that, taking my intense expressions and mirroring them back at me in an exponentially positive way. When he smiles, the ground wobbles—or maybe that’s just me. His smiles are wide enough to shake the earth all the way in California; they should be measured on the Richter scale. This grin was a 4.7.
“If you don’t breath, you’ll pass out,” he said.
“If I do breath I’ll pass out,” I replied.
“If you’re gonna pass out anyway, you might as well breathe while you’re doing it.”
I loosened my grip on my mouth and took a tentative breath. No way. I clamped my hand back over my mouth and shook my head vigorously, my sharp elbow carving a crescent in the air. On the third shake it collided with something squishy—something squishy that gasped. Dr. Bowman was at my shoulder, now cradling his abdomen.
“Miss Peris, I’ll need to see you after class,” he panted. I gulped. Dr. Bowman returned his attention to the class. I turned to Jameson in panic.
“Can they give you detention in college?” I said.
He shook his head. “No, he’ll probably just kill you and preserve your body in formaldehyde for future students to dissect.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a pest.” The bell rang. In a flurry of notebooks, rubber gloves, and pig parts, the classroom cleared around me. Jameson winked encouragement as he ducked out the door. I gathered my books, prolonging the trudge to Dr. Bowman’s desk.
“You seem to be struggling in class,” sad Dr. Bowman. I nodded. School had only been in session for two weeks and already I was getting in trouble. “Is your lab partner distracting you?” Jameson? Distracting me? Hardly! My voice had decided to take a vacation, so all I could do was wobble my head “no” like a dash-board ornament.
“That’s good to know. In any case, I think you might be looking for extra credit opportunities, am I right?”
I wobbled my head yes.
“I need a writing assistant,” said Dr. Bowman. I stopped wobbling. A writing assistant? Was he serious?
My voice came back from its cruise to the Bahamas. “Dr. Bowman, I don’t know anything about biology. I am hardly pulling a B in your Bio 100 class as it is.”
“I know. But no one else turns in papers with quite as much rhetorical flair as you do.” True, I was probably the only student in the history of the school to describe the nomenclature system as pulchritudinous. Dr. Bowman continued, “I am working on some articles to submit to the journal of Reproductive Biology and Endocrinology. And I need an editor.”
I negotiated for 10% extra credit and we closed the deal. He would have a writing assistant and, with Jameson’s help and a 10% extra credit boost, I might just not fail biology.
Chapter 2
The door to room number 912 stood open. The elevator was broken, so I had hiked the eight flights of stairs lugging a backpack heavier than a small child. I stopped short of the entrance and sagged against the wall, trying desperately to catch my breath before going in. It didn’t help. My mouth still felt like I had swallowed Velcro and my lungs screamed obscenities at me. Oh well. They’d get over it. I squared my shoulders and stepped into the doorway.
Kelly, my lanky blond roommate, was sprawled out on the bed nearest the door with her boyfriend Ronny. She always looked lankier like that, wrapped around Mr. Neon-blue Mohawk. I cleared my throat uncomfortably.
Twice.
Finally Mr. Mohawk came up for air. He glanced at the nuisance that had interrupted his Friday afternoon and was sent sprawling as Kelly jumped to her feet. Like a peppy volcano she erupted with gossip, spewing juicy tidbits in her wake as she paced. She didn’t walk—she float-pranced, like a gazelle strapped to helium balloons.
I plopped down on my bed and squinted to see Kelly against the backdrop of her walls. Kelly’s half of the room exploded with color. Her bed was spread with a shockingly pink quilt and topped with a mountain of every-colored pillow, so many that it appeared she was sandbagging her bed for war with the gay community. Pop band posters bloomed on the walls, a tribute to every sappy music chapter since 5th grade.
I laid back, nestling my head into my white pillowcase, staring up at my white ceiling and my white walls. Ahhhh, how soothing. Mohawk Man was still on the floor, reading a discarded copy of Seventeen. From his intermittent snickering I assumed he had discovered the intimacy section. Kelly continued to simmer.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Kelly said.
“What?” I had been tuning out her chatter, but that statement pulled me upright like reigns on a horse—the mention of a “he” other than Ronny in our dorm. I lunged out of bed, falling like an unsteady colt. My eyes rolled over the untidy heaps coming out of the floor like anthills. Candy wrappers. Books. Underwear. They all had to be moved, stat.
“Tell me more about this guy,” I said, stuffing laundry into my hamper.
Kelly smirked. She knew I hadn’t been listening. “His name is Grant and he’s in my Philosophy class. And he’s dreamy.” I wonder why Ronny was never bothered by Kelly’s admiration of other boys. He didn’t even seem to mind that she got hit on every day. I mean, it made sense. She was the human incarnation of Barbie.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THIS IS WAY LATER IN THE BOOK
“Mail’s here!” yelled Kelly. She danced in waving a handful of envelopes. She tossed the junk mail on my desk and started opening the other five letters as she climbed through her pillows onto her bed. “Derek, Tom, Michael, Hank . . . hey Rae! You got a real letter!” She flung it at me Frisbee style and it skidded under my bed.
“Thanks.” I got down on my hands and knees and fished the packet out from the dust bunnies and debris. A letter? Who would be sending me a letter? Mom would never take the time to write. I examined the envelope. The direction was typed, but it didn’t have a stamp. Someone would have had to put the letter in our box personally.
I opened the flap and drew out a single typed sheet:
Dearest Rae,
Don’t move
the perfect arc of cheek
against my hand,
the trickling, tickling breath
upon my thumb,
the eyelash veil hiding
the reflection of my soul.
Don’t move
the graceful curve of throat
beneath my fingers,
the lips that form my name
against my palm.
Don’t move.
Don’t move, my love,
or I will kill you.
I stared at the innocuous white page and black letters—so precise, so neat. So menacing. My hand began to shake. I felt like I was inhaling swamp water.
“Kelly,” I choked around an imaginary clod of bog. She looked up from her pile of fan mail and saw me flapping my letter in the air like Gilligan trying to flag down a rescue plane. She pranced over and leaped on my bed.
“Is it from a boy?” she asked. I thrust the letter at her, anxious to get it out of my hands. I hugged my knees to my chest and watched Kelly’s face as I sang Jail House Rock loudly in my head. Kelly’s look of mischievous anticipation faded into a furrowed brow and then into a wrinkle of disgust.
“Creepy! Who writes stuff like that? You should call the cops,” Kelly said. She studied the note again. “Yep, definitely creepy.”
The first in a few posts
I'm going to be posting quite a bit today, so we're goig to seperate them a bit. Number 1- an email I got from youtube today. . .
Hallo Adrillf,YouTube-gebruiker TopcatRugby1990 heeft zich zojuist op je video's geabonneerd! Met YouTube-abonnementen kan een gebruiker op de hoogte worden gesteld wanneer een andere gebruiker nieuwe video's toevoegt.Vanaf nu wordt TopcatRugby1990 op de hoogte gehouden wanneer je nieuwe openbare video's toevoegt.Je kunt zien wie zich op jou heeft geabonneerd door je aan te melden bij YouTube en naar de pagina 'Mijn Abonnees' te gaan.Je kunt jezelf ook op andere gebruikers abonneren. Vind je de video leuk? Klik dan op de knop Abonneren van het lid, rechts van de video die je aan het bekijken bent. Je kunt ook naar het profiel van een gebruiker gaan en je daar op hun video's abonneren.We zien je graag terug op YouTube! - Het YouTube-team
Hint- that's not Swedish.
Hallo Adrillf,YouTube-gebruiker TopcatRugby1990 heeft zich zojuist op je video's geabonneerd! Met YouTube-abonnementen kan een gebruiker op de hoogte worden gesteld wanneer een andere gebruiker nieuwe video's toevoegt.Vanaf nu wordt TopcatRugby1990 op de hoogte gehouden wanneer je nieuwe openbare video's toevoegt.Je kunt zien wie zich op jou heeft geabonneerd door je aan te melden bij YouTube en naar de pagina 'Mijn Abonnees' te gaan.Je kunt jezelf ook op andere gebruikers abonneren. Vind je de video leuk? Klik dan op de knop Abonneren van het lid, rechts van de video die je aan het bekijken bent. Je kunt ook naar het profiel van een gebruiker gaan en je daar op hun video's abonneren.We zien je graag terug op YouTube! - Het YouTube-team
Hint- that's not Swedish.
ummmmm
ummmmm.....its freaking SNOWING!!!!! i went outside and the snow disrespected my car, and i'm sad
ps, remember to pay your rent today :)
ps, remember to pay your rent today :)
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