Coming to an end

School is coming dangerously close to over with. Two weeks from today I will be done with finals and on my way to a fun summer. Full of working, drinking, working, reno, drinking and working. Woo hoo! At least it beats doing homework every night and having panic attacks once a week. And now, my personal feelings on tanning:

I do subscribe to the opinion that people generally do look better when a little sun kissed. However, I really only think this is true if it's a summer month. I've never really understood the people who are really really tan in the middle of winter, we all know it's not real. Now personally I think that people can do whatever they want to, sit in the cancer box 20 minutes a day if you want, but does it really matter all that much? I never tan. And I mean that both in the "I never get in a tanning booth" and in the "I never get tan" sort of way. I turn a nice reddish (not always burnt) hue, and then it goes back to pasty Irish white. It's how I roll. I've gotten a couple comments lately about me "looking tan", my supremely white skin has turned its nice reddish hue because of my recent outdoor activities, but I can almost guarantee, that I will never, ever, be tan. I don't think it's possible.

Accents

I know that two blogs in one day is quite self absorbed, but humor me. I love people with accents. Pretty much all accents. I am not going to lie, I can find a Canadian accent kinda hot. Close to the top of the list is Australian, quite good. British are ok, they make me feel a little stupid though. I can't take anyone serious who has a southern accent, but they make me feel kinda safe, like they are going to hug me and then give me something with a lot of butter in it to eat. Boston accents are kinda hot. They always make me feel like the person could kick my ass, or someone else's ass at any moment. Same with New York accents. But, my all time favorite accent. Irish. Its clumsy, and charming, and almost indistinguishable sometimes. Maybe my Irish side is to blame, maybe I'm just a silly American girl who is a sucker for accents. But how can you not think its kinda hot when someone says yar, instead of you're ... think about it. That almost sounds like a pirate.

Habits

Well I have a very poor habit. Its called "starting something as a joke, then thinking about it so much and investing too much time into it, that partially becomes reality to me". It's a pretty long habit. It's true though. Here is mostly how it goes down:

1. I say that I like someone as a joke
2. People make fun of me, my intended purpose
3. One person thinks said silly person is a good idea to pursue
4. I actually start to entertain the fact
5. I spend time out of my life picturing dating said person
6. I start to convince myself that I legitimately like this person
7. It obviously never works because they usually don't know I exist, or I only talk to them rarely
8. I eventually laugh at the fact that I started to form feelings
9. I continue to have dirty dreams about them
10. I tell Caitlin about the dirty dreams

Thats pretty much how it always goes down. I will give you one excellent example: Russ.

shopping

As far as I can tell, there are three universal truths to shopping:

1. You will look amazing in the dressing room, and not so great at home in front of a mirror.

2. If you go shopping looking for something specific, you will never find it, but instead, three days after you finally settled and bought something that only marginally fit the intended purpose of the clothing you were searching for, you will find the first item. Most likely on sale.

3. You will always spend significantly more than you had hoped.

I have a presentation in Comm on Monday and we decided to dress in Western colors. It just so happens that I have no dressy clothing in blue, gray, and very little in black. Awesome. It started my two hour shopping trip from hell today. It ended in me buying a skirt that was too expensive, a shirt that is pretty much too small (but literally the only blue thing I could find anywhere that wasn't super bright tealy blue), and a short little gray sweater that I don't really like that much. But by god, I came out of there with blue, gray, and black. Ten bucks says no one else shows up in Western colors for the presentation.

renting

There are very few times in my life where I hate the fact that I rent. What's great is, if anything ever breaks I just call someone else and they fix it, I don't have a mortgage, I can decide to move pretty much whenever I want, my apartment is pretty cheap, and it has things that in general I could not afford alone. There are several drawbacks however, most associated with the fact that I live in an apartment, and not a rented house. Mainly, parking is always an issue, I can hear the comings and goings of neighbors with next to no effort on my part, I can't really decorate how I would like or paint, anything like that. Most of the issues are fairly trivial, and obviously the benefits out weigh the risks or I wouldn't be living here. However, another ugly rental issue has just popped up.

My building recently (like in the last couple days) was sold, and we are under new management. I got a notice on my door today that said on Tuesday they will be coming to inspect our apartment and check if we need things fixed, we can be present if we choose but don't have to be. This makes me nervous. Not only has there been a crazy rapist man running around campus and literally terrorizing young women (enough so that we got an official notice from UPD via e-mail recently), but I don't want strangers I have never met going through my apartment and things. We don't have the cleanest apartment right now because there is a hellish Bermuda triangle esk moment of midterms, papers and group presentations that is plaguing all inhabitants of my apartment, and I don't want strangers coming in and scrutinizing everything. Its very frustrating. Now I'm also nervous that when it comes time to have our lease signed again, that they are going to up our rent, and we either will end up paying out the ass, or be forced to search again for an apartment and move. Moving sucked really badly last time because all of our stuff is giant, and I don't want to go through that again.

So here I am, nervous about school, nervous about the rapist close to where I live, work and attend school, nervous about where I live, and nervous about money. We will see what happens after Tuesday I suppose.

stamps

There are a few things in life that I absolutely adore. Anything from my wonderful friends, to reading weird prison books, to enjoying truly delicious thai food, and also writing and receiving letters in the mail. Snail mail. I love it. It says, "I took the time out of the day to write you this profession of love, and I wanted you to be excited when you opened up the mailbox and found something more than shitty coupons you won't use, missing child posters, and bills". Maybe they don't say that to everyone, but they say it to me. Now obviously sentiments of love and admiration are not the only things sent through the mail, more often a bill will end up in my mail box, or in my hand heading to the nearest drop off box. Which brings me to the main point of this blog. Stamps are going up in price AGAIN. To a whopping 41 cents! Seriously. Now, I know that stamps are rising in price because e-mail is so prevelant and they have to make up their money somewhere, but this just makes me want to use e-mail that much more. It's a vicious cycle. Now I know that 41 cents is in all honestly not that much. But lets consider the following:

I send out 4 bills a month. Each one of these bills is now going to cost me an additional 41 cents (or 2 more cents than last month).
Comcast: 41 cents
PSE: 41 cents
Rent: 41 cents
Credit Card: 41 cents
Usually at least one sentiment of love to someone (lets er on the side of caution and say just one, though sometimes more): 41 cents
That comes to $2.05.

12 months in a year: $24.60 - this is of course not taking into account the holidays when more delightful parcels are indeed sent.

I don't know where I'm going with this. It's like when I figured out how much it costs me to use tampons for a year. ($38.40)

casts

So, I have always harbored a sick desire to have a cast. For some reason, no matter how much I hear it itches, and how many people have dared me to smell their cast, I still have always kinda wanted one. Maybe its an excuse to wear something neon green everyday for six weeks, or maybe its the forced conversation with strangers ("oh no, what happened?"), but it haunts me to this day. The only thing (ok, perhaps not ONLY) that holds me back from breaking my own arm, is the fact that I have never understood how people bathe when they have casts. Especially leg or ankle casts, you can't really just dangle a leg out of the shower, gravity would kick your ass! This also plays into my fear of being the stinky kid, I couldn't go days at a time without a shower just to have an awesome cast. The closest I have ever come was spraining a wrist. Some do say that a sprain is worse than a break ....

smells

So a guy came into the office today who smelled quited good. This further proves the fact that I love people who smell nice. The best part of this particular boy's smell, was that it was not cologne, it was just that nice fresh laundry detergent and general clean smell that you don't often get from college boys. Let face it, boys in college (for the most part) often lack excellent personal hygiene habits. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of some nice smelling cologne, sometimes even when there is maybe a little too much and it lingers a little when they leave, but a little part of me always thinks to myself "what are they covering up?". So it brightened my day a little to smell a nice smelling boy, who happened to smell like the best smell ... clean.

This may also play into the fact that I'm constantly afraid of being the stinky kid. I've never really been accused of being the stinky kid, but its a constant fear in the back of my head. Makes me appreciate the nice smelling people even more!

A New Blog!

Today was good. I had this moment when I was sitting on the bus, and it was breezy but not cold, and there was cologne drifting through the air, and the smell from fresh cut grass from outside. It was that time of day when its just kinda dusky and there is no sun, but its not quite night. I was listening to some stupid country song on my country bumpkin play list that I decided to listen to for no reason at all, and I just felt happy. The bus driver was possibly my favorite one of the bunch because he announces the next stop in the most hilarious out of work radio personality voice and I can't help but laugh while sitting there. The kid next to me had a keyboard which I thought was awesome, because who carries around a keyboard on the bus, and I wanted him to bust out some really random music, like maybe some Lenny Kravitz, or CCR. And I felt happy. Sometimes I have no idea how I have gotten to where I am, and sometimes I just don't care because I'm glad I'm here.