Uphill Both Ways

This past Monday I was brushing my teeth, when whoosh in a split second my life changed. Well, at least the life of my teeth did. My retainer slipped from my hands and vanished down the drain. Now maybe you will say that I could have gotten it back--possibly (I dunno, that drain is pretty long and deep) but even so the question remains: would I really want it back? It takes only one glance down that pipe to come up with a resounding No!
So I did what any normal person would do under the circumstances: I ran up and down the hallway screaming. Oh, wait, that's what I do when I see a bug--nevermind. What I actually did was call home. Which lead to the clarification of several facts:
1) My orthodontist no longer recognizes me as a patient
2) My parents are not thrilled at the prospect of driving up to get me & dragging me back to St. Louis for an expensive orthodontics appointment.
3) My teeth are impatient critters

All of which lead to one conclusion: I was on my own.

So, at the advice of my wise mentor (my mother), I pulled out the not-so-trusty phonebook and started my Quest for the Land of Orthodontia. Several ancient scrolls (mapquest) and magical seances (conducted via telephone) revealed that my quest would be most successful if I went to the laboratory of Doctor Jaynes, as it was the only portal to the Land of Orthodontia that my trusty tennis shoes could withstand (not to mention my not-so-magical wallet).

Early last Thor's day I set out in such timely manner so as not to be late to the conference of social wizards, aka sociology class. I followed the very bumpy and dangerous beige concrete path, dodging smoke-breathing dragons (cars) and evil wraiths (bikes). Frequent consultations with my wise but fragile map and use of my quick senses brought me to the portal with plenty of time to cross the threshold before the gates closed. I descended the stone steps, maneuvered through the labyrinth, and opened The Door. Here my bravery was tested: my senses were assaulted with the all too familiar sounds and smells of that infamous and torturous Chamber of the Braces. Pulling out my secret weapon, the reliable Crossword Puzzle, I controlled my cowardly impulses to flee and stood (well, sat) firm. There is no need to go into the daring feats I accomplished in the next half hour (mostly because there weren't any), but I emerged triumphant, having received the correct instructions of when to return next week after giving the guard a suitable bribe.
Wait--did I say return? That's not fair--no of the ancient heroes had to descend to Hades more than once! Dang! Maybe I should invest in a flying carpet. . .

I Really Hate People Who Pull Fire Alarms

Okay, so apparently two times in one day wasn't enough. You'd think they'd ticked everyone off enough, but nooooooo, some idiot has to pull the fire alarm at 11p.m. Which makes that the THIRD TIME in one day. So we all flee down the icky back stairs, past the dumpster (eeww) and around the building, much more terrified of hearing loss than any possibility of fire. Again.

The person (or persons) unknown who are committing this horrible crime had better stay unknown, because they entire building is practically out for their blood. As we were stuck outside for an hour this time (they had to call in the fire marshall, supposedly) many schemes and tortures were devised for this evil prankster. Let's just say we have a fabulously healthy (and gruesome) imagination.

Other interesting things this "opportunity" to learn about our community provided:

I am seriously sorry for the poor guy who is on crutches and lives--get this-- on the 7th floor. (wince)

Some guy came out wearing only a "man thong;" thankfully someone lent him a shirt before I (at least) saw anything.

The P.A.s stay across the street, conferring with the fire department, etc., then use a bullhorn to convey information to us (we're across the street). This system does not work. Unlike the fire alarms, their voices cannot penetrated the mass of noise coming from several hundred loud, rowdy, upset, and talkative college students.

It was generally agreed that the alarm would go off sometime around 3a.m. I found it hard to go to sleep, any noise would make me tense up and get ready to spring out of bed. Thankfully it did not go off in the middle of the night, but regardless I did not sleep so well. This is making me very jumpy. sigh. . .

I Hate People Who Pull Fire Alarms

Just what I needed to make this day better. Someone pulled the fire alarm not once, but TWICE today. Did you know that one can actually go to prison for that? It has some serious consequences, not that that seems to stop whoever has been pulling it. It is such a pain! I'm really glad that firefighters respond and don't give up when people cry wolf, cuz otherwise our dorm would be in trouble when/if we really do have a fire.

After I wrote that post about my soc paper this morning, I hurried off to class, which is located in the far-off building of Middlebush. Onnly to be met with a surprise: the classroom was dark and a sign was taped to the door:

Prof.---- has be recalled to his home planet of Xqayn. He will be gone for an unspecified period of time. Please forgive the inconvinance.
Signed,
Cznujs, Minister of Forgien Affairs

(I guess I should have mentioned that serveral people in my class came up with--seperately--the idea that our professor is " a skin-stealing alien")

Okay, so what the sign really said was that class was cancelled. Any other day we might have relished this bit of news, but remember: we had just stayed up the night before writing the blasted thing. Let's just say we weren't very pleased. So off we traipse to another building to discover whether the lecture immediantly following discussion is cancelled as well. There's no note, so we all drag back out there at 10. Well, when we are all shifting in our seats, the T.A.s wander up to the front looking nervous and slightly confused. Here's what they said and how we translated it.

Professor --- said he couldn't make it today [ *^#$@#!@!!]
He's sick-- [sure he is--his skinsuit probably fell apart and he's got to do some blood ritual to get a new one]
Umm, you can turn you papers in and we'll grade them [(sarcastically) oh, so that's how he gets out of doing the work]

Let's just say we weren't in the most sympathetic mood.

I Hate Papers

The title pretty much sums it up. I've got to run to Sociology class in a minute; yesterday I had to write all of a ten page paper for this *lovely* class. Which, as it turns out, is not ten pages, only eight, and I have no clue what I said (other than a jumble of meaningless quotes and random sentences). I do remember that I compare cell phones to squirrels on the first page, but after that. . .

sigh. Isn't college fabulous.

The End of the Season

Well, believe it or not, our softball team made the playoffs-- with a record of one loss. That's one loss out of a total of one game. LOL. That's got to be some kind of record. Other teams forfeited to us twice, and we forfeited once, which ended up making our record 2-2.
This afternoon was our playoff game. Unfortunately, we had to forfeit because not enough of our team showed up. :( It was disappointing. We played a game with the other team (borrowing some of their players) just for fun, though. I enjoyed it cuz it wasn't too hot and the field was in the shade. Such is the end of the saga of my first--and most likely only--softball season.

Knit, Stitch, Engauge!

On Wednesday night I joined a group of knitters in our lounge who are going to meet there every Wednesday. I was the rogue cross-stitcher, since I didn't have knitting stuff with me. It was a lot of fun; there were maybe seven other girls and two guys, many of whom did not know how to knit. Like I said, it was funny. Now I'm in full-throttle knitting obsession mode; anybody who knows what I'm like when I'm on the craft-hunt will roll their eyes and sigh as I go barreling past.heeheehee
Oh yeah, the name of our group is "knit,stitch,engauge" (yes, it's supposed to be spelled like that). We almost named ourselves "knit-xhibit" (pronounced like "knit-zibbet," however you want to spell it). Here's why: about an hour into our little circle, some other students stuck their heads in to say hi. "Look how cute they are" one girl said to the other, and they left. Carrie, the girl sitting next to me, raised her eyebrows and remarked, "I feel like I'm in the zoo or something, on display." Someone else picked this up and joked that the glass wall towards the hall makes us an exhibit. Hence, knitzibbit.

Eww, on a nasty note: A girl across the hall was standing outside her room, and having some sort of problem. I heard the word "rat" so I stopped to see what was going on. No, there are not wild rodents in our building (that I know of). Her roommate just left for the weekend, and about an hour later this girl realized that one of her roommates' mice was rather still. Further investigation proved that it was not, in fact, sleeping; it was dead. My first reaction: a fervent prayer of thankfulness that my roommate doesn't keep gross critters in our room. My second thought, get out of there before I see anything icky. Happily some other girl was taking it out to the trash, so I escaped to my room to write a paper (and avoid the paper by writing this blog). I'm so brave, aren't I?

On Mail Searches and Fire Alarms

I *finally* received a package I've been waiting for from eBay (14 old Georgette Heyer paperbacks). I was so excited! Well, I pick up my package, and noticed that it has stamped on it in red ink something along the lines of "Inspected by the USPS" and "Media Mail: Inspected and Resealed." "What?" I think to myself: doesn't the post office trust me? Obviously not. Inside the package there is a printed note: "Media mail is only for items. . .blah blah blah. . .acceptable items are. . .blah blah blah" And so on for three paragraphs. At the bottom is a check mark in the box that says "Your items are acceptable." How kind of you to notice, I think sarcastically. Besides, what can I do about it if they aren't? I'm not the one who sent the package. Somehow this system seems messed up. Still, I have my books, and a whole lot of post office tape in my trashcan, so I guess I'm happy.

I know that fire alarms are good things, but it seems to me that a better system should be established, at least for college dorms. This past Saturday, at 10:05 or thereabouts, I hear a distant fire alarm. Unfortunately, it does not stay distant. It is soon joined by all its brother- and sister-alarms, including the one in my room. My roommate, who was still asleep, sits bolt upright in bed. "The fire alarm's going off." I say. She looks at me with an expression that clearly says "You don't say. I wouldn't have noticed." So we traipse down the five flights of the icky back stairs, and proceed around the building to the designated stop in front. Most of us probably wouldn't have bothered, except that we had no wish to go deaf. Hearing loss is certainly an often ignored side effect in such cases, but I digress. I had only woken up about ten minutes before, but I was very glad that I was up and dressed (a lot of people were in bathrobes). Some people were in the shower; several guys came out in their towels. (The girls who were in the showers went to their rooms and got dressed first). A fire truck came, and we were forced to wait out side for an additional twenty minutes. Of course it was a false alarm. Less that two months of college, and already I look on fire alarms with disgust. I can't image what my reaction will be in four years. Maybe super-strong earplugs.

Apples to Apples to Cookies

Last night I went to a party that one of the RUF interns, Gail, was throwing for us girls. It was a lot of fun. We baked cookies (well, some of us just ate them) and played Apples to Apples for 2 1/2 hours strait. Katie, one of my RUF friends, was going on very little sleep and was quite slaphappy (in the words of another friend, "intoxi-katie"). At one point she screamed, gasped, and then doubled over laughing. We were eating chocolate chips, and she had picked up what she thought was a piece of chocolate off of her jeans; only to find it was a bug. We all just about lost it; we jumped when she screamed, then couldn't stop laughing at her reaction. It was my first time playing Apples to Apples, for those of you have, do you every play that whatever cards you win show your personality? We had a lot of laughs at the end reading them out loud. Mine were: scary, spooky, nasty, important, brilliant, and calm. LOL