The toilet isn't working means "I took a huge dump"

I know what you're thinking: I talk about myself too much on this blog. It's true. So this post will be dedicated to my roommate, who I will refer to as A-hole for the remainder of the entry.

Last Friday, I became aware of the fact that the toilet closest to my room was clogged. We women use a code phrase: "The toilet doesn't work." That's right, we don't tell the truth and just say "There is a big ball of POOP in the toilet and some toilet paper and piss too", we pretend that no one crapped in the first place and there is simply 'something' wrong with the bathroom.

So I wasn't shocked when I forgot that the toilet wasn't "working" and made for the bathroom only to find a bunch of poo in the toilet. Not a little bit of poo, either; I promise you it was a bunch. The only reason this is important is because it was a Friday night. Maintenance had been called, but had not come to "fix" the toilet, which meant that the toilet would remain clogged all weekend. In my mind it was rather ridiculous that maintenance had to be called just because someone took a dump and it didn't flush the first time, seeing as how we have a plunger. But it wasn't my feces, so I wasn't too keen on problem solving.

Now, I suppose this is where the quantity of poo becomes important, because this doesn't usually happen. But over the weekend, the smell of this shit became so awful that the entire hall smelled like ass vomit. And there are three bedroom doors right next to the bathroom. You could even smell it in the kitchen. While preparing rapidly unappetizing food. You see my point.

Why does this have to do with my roommate? Because I'm 99% sure she was the shitter. My reason for suspecting this is that this (Monday) morning, I woke up as she was about to go take a shower. She made a comment about not wanting to shower there because of the smell, and I said

"It's ridiculous that people think they need to call maintenance just because the toilet is clogged. We have a plunger." It makes even more sense to use a plunger because we're girls - calling maintenance and leaving pungent crap in a toilet for three days means you're admitting that you have bodily functions that involve your asshole.

Her response was
"I've never had to use a plunger before. The problem is the pipes here; they just don't flush everything. It's the pipes."

Not only does this incriminate her (she did not deny being the pooper as any female would have done) but it also makes her seem like a spoiled retard.

My advice to her: 1) Figure out how to use a plunger. 2) Don't blame pipes when you take a dump that doesn't fit. 3) Don't make the rest of us suffer immensely while you go home for the weekend to a poo-free environment.

Blogger search, you foil me once again

If you search for rape on Blogger, you get 170,513 hits.

If you search for Panda rape, you only get 343 hits. What is this world coming to when human rape* is more newsworthy than panda rape? The noble panda is our friend - our ally, really. They're like our army reserve, ready for battle and chewing on bamboo until it happens. That's not because they're hungry. That's to bulk up.

And if you search for College Student, my blog name does not appear under "Top Blogs matching 'college student'" but a blog that was last updated on September 12 does. This is not fairness. I demand... well, ask for? fairness. Or maybe just apples, since fairness is probably not coming any time soon.

Here's what informed people are saying about rape:
"i think rape sucks, and if a girl got raped....well i don't know what she should do in that situation. however, if it was because she got drunk one night and forgot that she was sleeping around conentually, why should somebody else have to suffer for the fact that she couldn't keep her legs closed."

Mmm, wonderful!

*"male rape" only returned 166 hits. Hurrah, pandas!

Who's your daddy?

Last night, for my friend's birthday I went to an off-campus "party." I'm confused though, because it did seem like a party but it also seemed like a giant relocation of the friends I see anyway, to an apartment of someone I also know.

Nonetheless, I was busy talking to a non-friend (but of course I knew him; what crazy parties involve new people?!) about the men's a cappella group on campus. I suggested a song ("What's your name? Who's your daddy? ..Is he rich like meeee?") and then suggested the next obvious thing: he should have anal sex with another member of the group.

Now, I'm known to get myself stuck between conversational rocks and hard places, but that was a pretty big leap. The exciting part was that my non-friend agreed that he should sex up another singer from his tribe. Wow! Lucky me! Because I, along with the other girls in my house, believe that two gorgeous boys kissing and doing dirty things to each other is amazing and should be encouraged. I then told non-friend that I would of course be there with a camera to document the event. He agreed.

Now, remember the part about me getting into trouble in conversations?

That only happened when I suggested that I join them. Yes, that's right. My (straight!) non-friend was not ok with adding breasts and a vagina to the mix.

And that's the kind of party I was at last night.

Freshman girls upstairs will be punished

On a Sunday night, merely 3 minutes from midnight, the fuckers in the room above mine are playing jazz music unnecessarily loudly. I don't even know who lives above me. My solution is to be angry with the entire second floor. All twenty or so freshmen. I'm going to put the heads of dead horses in their beds while they sleep.

I'm not sure where I will find that many horses, how I could do that without whimpering and waking up the freshmen, but... I will.

It doesn't help that they are giggling. I hate it when girls giggle. Some people think it's cute, and my response to them is that it isn't. It's only cute when you're more than 50 feet from the person who is giggling or if you're drunk. Otherwise it makes me feel like throwing up my dinner on them and telling them that the effect their giggles has on my ears is similar to the effect my vomit has on their nose. Except that my dinner was good so it probably smells way better than their giggles sound.

Not only that, but there is a BOY voice. And that angers me because those girls don't deserve attention from the male sex. They really just don't deserve attention. (Note, I still don't know who they are.)

Searching for porn

So, the government is trying to access Google's search archives. Why? So they can make a case for the Online Child Protection Act. So our children don't see porn.

The last time I checked, almost every internet software provider offers search protection and that shit for the exact same reason. And also, the last time I checked, I didn't think the government should be telling people how to raise their children.

Why would a 5-year old be searching for something that would turn up pornography? If they are, maybe that's what they're looking for. Why should we stop them? They're going to find out someday. My parents still have a restriction on TV shows with a PG-13 rating. I started watching R-rated movies when I was about 3 years old. I'm not a pervert and I'm not trying to blow anything up. Seeing naked people doesn't ruin anyone's life.

The only reason that porn sites or graphic pictures would disturb children is because we taught them to avoid these images and be disturbed by them. Then, one day when they're "grown up," it's okay for them to think about nudity and sex.

Am I off base here?

...my kids are going to be so fucked up.

It's my birthday!

Okay so yesterday was my birthday! I got pots and pans in the mail and Boyfriend sent me roses. I also got all dolled up (black dress) and went to a party sporting a bottle of champagne. As soon as I got there, security came but I was herded into a bathroom to hide. And of course as soon as I got in the bathroom I said "HEY It's my birthday!" and a bunch of people I knew and didn't know got excited (a good indication that they were drunk).

On the way out of the bathroom I told someone else it was my birthday and she started babbling about how beautiful I was and how she wished she was me. Which is funny because she is gorgeous.

I also tried to force someone to want me to make out with another girl. I didn't actually want to make out with the girl, I just wanted them to want me to. How does that work?

Me: Wouldn't it be hot if me and your girlfriend made out?
Him: Um...
Me: Wouldn't it?!
Him: Sure!
Me: I know! *walks away*

Unfortunately I didn't do anything too embarrassing. Sorry, I'll work on that.

Food porn

So, I decided after a day of aggravating food experiences at my school's dining establishments that I would quit the meal plan. This is a big step. Bigger than, say, Neil Armstrong's. (Well, it's a bigger step for me than his step was for me). Just saying.

Already I've gone to the store twice. The store is about a 30 minute walk each way. It's good exercise. It's also good motivation to exercise - if I don't go walking for an hour, I can't eat. And I love food.

Also, I watched a great HBO special with Katie Morgan, the porn star. She was completely naked and there were sooo many shots of vaginas, but no penis. It's totally unfair. Men should fight for their rights to put their glorious penises on camera. It's just cruel to deny them this simple joy.

Curse of the Black Pearl: Meet curse of the wet toilet

I found out what the problem is. Everyone who gets paid to clean toilets just does not wipe off the wet toilet seat when they're done cleaning it. I'm not sure why this is - I always wipe the toilet seat with a paper towel or something to dry it off when I'm done. Other people? No. They must entertain the belief that nobody uses freshly cleaned bathrooms for at least 20 minutes after they have been cleaned. They are wrong.

The bathroom was being cleaned, and I asked the lady cleaning it if I could slip in really fast while she was out. She said she was almost done and I could use it afterwards. So as soon as she finished, I went into the spotless bathroom and sat my toosh down on - what - another wet toilet seat. Now, this may be an indication of one of the following:

1) I have been cursed
2) I will be forced to avoid clean bathrooms in search of dirty ones
3) I am doomed to writing about wet toilet seats for the remainder of my life

Almost time for second semester

The last few days of my break, 10 words a day:

Thursday: Boring. Researched finances, applied for first credit card.

Friday: Party at Boyfriend's, harrassed everyone about girl he liked before

Saturday: Last day home. The Jerk = awful movie. Almost no sleep.

Sunday: Leave home, airports suck, Grey's Anatomy mmmmm

It wasn't until I got back to campus (it is so cold here) that I found out that we don't have class tomorrow. I could have stayed home another day. Woe is me!

Things to look forward to?
More quotes from my (hopefully) funny teachers
I will try to have a more interesting life

Shopping and math should not go together

A liberal arts education brings much learning, I'm sure. But I'm sure I couldn't defend it after my stunning academic performance today at the clothing store.

Here are the actions preceding today's special moment:
1) Received a $25 gift certificate for Christmas
2) Used said gift certificate to buy a $160 dress
3) Found a $25 coupon for the store from which I bought the dress
4) Returned the dress so I could re-buy it with the coupon

I wanted to make sure my gift certificate wasn't lost in any way, so I pointed it out to the lady at the register. She said

"OK, I'll just credit your account the full $160 and then you re-buy the dress. Is that all right?"

I nodded, but my mind did not follow in any way at all. She seemed to catch on.

"I want to make sure you understand..." She then started underlining figures and circling things to show me how it worked. While I understood that $160 minus $25 is $135, for some reason I still did not follow how the whole math thing worked out. Shouldn't the $25 be taken off the new purchase as well? My dress should only be about $100, right?

Eventually I made an embarrassed "Oh, I see" face and everyone seemed to think I understood. It was probably a full five minutes before I realized why it made sense. I pretty much needed to see the money change hands in front of me.

I'm not sure if I'm getting smarter or stupider-er

Such a greedy little girl

So today was "Christmas" at my house. Since my brother came home yesterday, we decided on celebrating today. So, we ate chili and spent about an hour together as a family. Here is what I got:

- PJ's that match my mothers, which are called "French Kitty" (imagine what that looks like and how I won't be fitting in at college)
- Size 10 snow boots that my mom thought looked too small (my feet are size 8.5)
- The most kickass umbrella ever
- A video iPod.

If we remember the post where I bitched about not having an iPod, and the horror of iPods and my jealousy, we might think that I immediately was jumping up and down with glee, as unstoppable a force as I had been when I got a car for Barbie in Christmas 2000 - er... 1991.

Funny, because my very first thought was I wonder how much money I could get for this on eBay? Followed quickly by a "Ohmygosh I love it!!!" followed by I am the worst daughter ever

The arrival of the king

I have an older brother who goes to school near my dad's house. As a result, he is rarely at my mom's house. Case in point: he came here today for the first time in a year.

Now, since Mom's darling, precious 21-year old baby hadn't been home in so long, she decided she wanted to make a special dinner for him. She was torn between the frozen lasagna from Costco and pot roast with mashed potatoes. I think she figured out that while frozen lasagna is nice, it's not special or fancy. So she chose the pot roast.

Since she was going to work in the morning, she asked me to put the meat in the slow cooker thing and turn it on for her. I said that would be fine. Then she decided she had to make him a cake. And by "she", she meant me. So she told me to make his cake.

I made the cake with my pal and we sat down to watch a movie. Then mom calls and tells me to peel the potatoes. I tell her I'm busy. She tells me to do it by seven o'clock. We get off the phone, and me and my pal go peel potatoes. I even chop them up and put them in a pot with water.

Then my mom calls and asks me if the potatoes are done cooking yet. Cooking? She didn't even tell me to put the stove on. I told her that no, I hadn't started them, and I wasn't going to. I wouldn't mind making dinner (I did it two days ago for my family) except that the only reason she was doing this was so dinner would be perfect for my brother. My mom never makes me a fancy meal when I come home. I think my first day home we had something like sandwiches or kitty litter or something.

Mom gets home and when the meal is put together, we sit down and eat. My stepdad and brother are talking about sports, and my mom is relentlessly babbling about the food:

"Wow, this looks just perfect, doesn't it?"

"Mmmmmm it's soo good"

"Isn't the pot roast so tender? Isn't it? It just falls right apart when you touch it with a fork!"

"Look at the gravy"

Does she expect us to join her? To give her an award for seeing the food and observing that yes, the meat is tender, because it was slowly cooked for 6 hours? To act as if she is pointing out something shocking even though they are things we can all see with our own eyes?

Usually when she does this, I think she's fishing for compliments. But since I made the dinner, I realized today that she's just a boring, boring woman.

The jogger

I celebrated New Years up north with my lady friends and my gentlemen friends, and we all partied at Boyfriend's apartment. The morning after, my lady friends and I left at 10:30 in the morning. It was so strange walking to the car because absolutely nobody was outside. It was one of those moments like on TV where people think time is frozen.

As we pulled out of our parking spot, we noticed an older man facing our car who looked like he was about to go jogging. He looked at us angrily and shook his head, then as soon as he finished putting his gloves on, he made a fist and pounded it into his open hand.

And we had absolutely no idea why he did this.

Disgruntling toilet experience, part 2

I'm a little concerned that this is continuing to happen to me. Less than a month ago, I sat down on a toilet that was still wet with cleaning stuff, and wrote about it in this entry. When I went to the bathroom at Round Table pizza the other day, I had a bit of a jolt when I walked into the ladie's bathroom to find a non-lady. I looked back at the sign indicating the gender of the bathroom, made a face, and the poor teenager started stuttering about how he worked there (which I had already gathered, since he was holding a bottle of Windex and a towel). So I shrugged, said it was fine, and ducked into the first stall.

Side note: it is times like this that make me feel like I need to make sure not to fart in the room with a boy. It is times like this when I realize how badly I have to pee because it is taking about a year to empty my bladder and there is an uncomfortable employee right outside my stall.

And yes, of course there was indeed Windex sprayed all over my toilet seat. Which I didn't know until I sat down. Thanks.

Needless to say, the employee was no longer in the bathroom when I came out of the stall.