Good Ole Rocky Top

Pandora radio is my savior. I don’t know what I would do without it.

Probably kill my roommate. And that wouldn’t be good. I would get in trouble, her family would be all sad and shit, and that’s just not going to work for me.

Anyway!

I have my Pandora Internet Radio set on “Mumford & Sons Radio” because I loveloveloveLOVE Mumford & Sons (they’re an amazing band; look them up if you’ve never heard anything by them, because it’ll change your life), and I am munching on some Bugles and sipping a Sierra Mist Natural while I wait for another hour or so to pass so that I may go see No Strings Attached.

UPDATE:
Saw No Strings Attached with some friends, and it was so funny. I would highly recommend it as a review.

And then I got back, and my suitemate asked me to watch a movie with her, because she broke up with her high school boyfriend earlier today and she just didn’t want to be alone tonight since Jane was in Gatlinburg for the weekend.  I felt kind of bad, because she was all sad but I really didn’t want to hang out with her because I had just gotten back to my dorm after seeing a different movie with some people but I didn’t feel like being an insensitive jerk so I stayed and watched Holes with her because that’s an amazing movie and I haven’t seen it in like, four years, so I was like, sure why not?

Anyway. I enjoyed watching Holes, and my suitemate is now sleeping (or attempting to, would be my guess), and my roommate has decided that the room is blazing hot and she needs her fan on, which is fucking ridiculous because it was already cold in here, and she goes to sleep with like 14,000 layers on (not really; it’s more like shorts-sweatpants-socks-blanket-sheet-comforter, which is still way too many layers, because if she’s cold then she doesn’t need the goddamn fan on, but I’m too fucking nice to say anything about it because I don’t like conflict and I really don’t want to start anything with her this late at night for fear that I may leave the room at one point and she may decided to do any number of crazy/psychotic/deranged things to any of my stuff) so really, if she’s that cold then TURN OFF THE GODDAMN FAN, CRAZY.

Anyway…

I kind of forgot where I was going with this…

Oh well. I’m kinda hungry, so I’m gonna find something to eat…

Toodles!

So it’s 3.40 in the morning, and I’m still (semi) wide awake, with my little lamp light on—which is no doubt pissing Sally all kinds of off—so that I don’t fry my already-damaged-by-horrid-vision-genes eyes. 

I’m nearly pissing myself laughing because of the myriad of posts I’m reading from Allie at Hyperbole and a Half, and Sally suddenly shoots up out of bed before looking around lost for a moment. She spots her phone; checks the time; looks angry at the time (which, hell, I would be too!); then proceeds to our en suite toilet closet.

I say “closet” only because, well, it’s true. In my dorm, I live in a suite. It looks like this:

Yes, that says “666” on her bed. The other side of the room doesn’t really matter, because they’re not a part of this. Note how big the toilet closet is.

Now, I showed you that to tell you this:

Our toilet doesn’t work correctly. Our toilet is not like normal toilets that allow you to simply press the lever (or lift, however you tell that commode who’s boss) and have your toilet go “Oh, hello! I’m going to suck up everything you’ve released into this bowl! Have a jolly good day!”

Oh no.

Our toilet is mean. It is evil. It is demonic. It hates us. 

Rather than simply pressing (again, or lifting, however you run things) the lever, we have to abuse our toilet lever into submission. Our special toilet requires a much more forceful kind of attack to get it to do what you want. Especially since the lever thing doesn’t sit entirely horizontal. It’s sort of.. hanging on by a thread at some weird limp angle, like a sad, sickly penis.

I always feel like I’m getting ready to battle it, Pokemon-style.

In order to flush our toilet, I always have to pound the lever toward the back wall, then rapidly jerk the damned thing back toward me before circling it up toward the ceiling in a gear-like movement. 

However.

This does not always work. It requires some wiggling, jiggling, yanking, thrusting, punishing, abusing, death-like attacks before it will submit to your whim.

A lot of times, typically from about 2 to 8.40 AM, the damned thing refuses to flush, like it’s sleeping and not ready to be in tip-top shape for flushing doodies (you see what I did there? Punny, huh?). 

This is annoying.

It is also the loudest fucking thing you can do when you wake up with the extreme need to pee because your bladder is threating war on all your other organs because it is so damned full, no matter that you went and flushed your bowels before you went to sleep the previous night.

It’s loud because the toilet closet is, like, 2 feet wide, and it’s full of tile and stone (floor and walls, WTF). Those two materials, in case you didn’t know, echo. A LOT. So, while you’re trying to flush your business down the drain, the toilet is making half-hearted attempts at sucking the water down into Poseidon’s hot tub while making the most awkward noises ever. Honestly, I would attempt to describe them via text, but there’s just no way I could describe it to you. I would have to get an audio clip and attach it to another post, because it’s seriously the loudest, most awkward noises ever.

Sally knows what I’m talking about. She tried to flush the toilet about 30 minutes ago. Took her more than four tries to get the demon commode to flush. Poor thing.

Oh well. Hopefully she’s angry with me. Maybe then she’ll pick a fight and I can bring up all the shit listed in post numero uno.

Ugh. It’s 4.32 AM and I’m still not sleeping.

I am, however, shivering. Profusely.

Why?

Well.

Sally’s fan is on. Fucking great.

The damned thing isn’t even pointed at her. It’s pointed at the joint desk, which allows the air stream to deflect off the wall and slip on over to my formerly-perfectly-temperature-controlled oasis of amazing. Now it’s fucking cold, and she’s not even using the damned thing.

Honestly, if she’s using her comforter, sheet, AND an extra blanket, PLUS wearing shorts AND pajama pants with the fan, why doesn’t she just lose the layers and regulate body heat that way? That’s what I do when I get too hot during the winter months (which does happen, because I’m extremely warm-natured): I flip the comforter back, almost all the way off the bed, and then I use only my jersey-knit sheet to keep my from quaking from the cold. And, if that’s not enough, I will sleep in only a t-shirt and underwear because, hey, that’s damned comfortable.

I’m contemplating unplugging Sally’s fan again.

Hah. Contemplating, my foot!

(I just unplugged it)

:D

I watched the State of the Union address tonight (well, most of it…), and I have to say, President Obama can speak very well.

I’m not saying I’m about to slap a donkey on my forehead and start protesting pro-life people, but I agree with a lot of what the president was saying.

I’m not really feeling up to getting into all the nitty-gritty at the moment, but I will say that Obama looks OLD. Ever looked up a picture of what looked like while campaigning and what he looks like nowadays? Well, don’t worry, I have pictures for you (Granted, they’re a bit difficult to tell, but I’m sure you’ll see what I mean).

 Take a look at that guy, huh? He looks young, happy, not the least bit stressed, right? Look at that head full of rich black hair! Beautiful, huh? No (excessive) wrinkles or laugh lines. This looks like a great guy.

 Now look at this guy. He looks stressed, doesn’t he? See how his hair is thinning and it looks a whole lot grayer? Yeah, that’s what campaigning only did to out current Chief Executive. If you watched the State of the Union tonight, did you notice how his face looked laden down with wrinkles and stress and frown lines? Notice how his hair is nearly all gray, with only some dark spots here and there? Dang, it sure is killer on your looks being king President. 

I didn’t study for the quiz today. Oh crap. Well, here goes.

It’s about Greek stuff, so maybe I’ll do okay on it…

So, this is my first attempt at tumblr, but I’m going to tell you, or anyone who’s even slightly interested, a story.
This story isn’t anything particularly happy, but I feel it necessary to tell, as I wish to forewarn anyone should they have this same problem.

Alright, here goes.

I am currently a freshman in college. I live on campus, as is required of all freshman. I have a roommate that I did not request, which is quite often the case in university campus living.
At first, things were okay, and when I say “at first” I really mean “for the first two days.” Then the parties started. Fraternity parties. Ugh. The staple of any college living. Great.
With those silly, drunken gatherings, comes the increased chances that someone (not saying my complete whore of a roommate because, really, she’s a nice girl… really) will attempt to bring a potential mate back to her place to fuck him.
That being said, my roommate—we’ll call her Sally—did this twice. Within two weeks of classes starting. I find that disgusting. Really? She couldn’t wait to have sex with someone that she had to try the first two weeks of classes? Wow. That’s just.. ridiculous. Not to mention completely whorish. It wouldn’t have been so bad had I not been TRYING TO SLEEP IN THE SAME ROOM.
Needless to say, I wasn’t happy.
And all this led to a bit of a tiff, but we sort of worked through it, and it hasn’t happened since. Which was nice of her.

Now, that was pretty much all that happened the first semester, save for little things like her leaving the light on when she left and waking me up when she came in late after getting high or drunk or both. The nice thing was that she at least tried to be quiet when she came in, although being drunk kind of diminishes your chances at being quiet for anything or anyone. But I digress.
This semester, however, she’s starting to really piss me off.
There are a multitude of things that she’s done in these two weeks alone that are already starting to grate on my nerves.
Here’s a list.

The Little Things

• She leaves the light on when she has to get ready for class in the morning (She has an 8 AM class at one point, and I don’t have to be up until 9ish those mornings, so I usually wake up because I suppose I’m somewhat sensitive to light)
• She leaves her personal fan on, pointed toward my side of the room (I have my own fan, thank you, Sally, I don’t need yours blowing fucking freezing cold air on me when it’s 27 degrees outside—there was recently [read: last week] an abnormal amount of snow in the area, which made the building in general cold as Frosty’s testicles; I now am at the point where, if she’s not in the room for any extended period of time and she’s left her fan plugged in and on, I will unplug it; I asked if I could the first four times, so I’m not going to ask anymore)
• She gets her make-up all over my side of the sink (I swear, if I have to clean up nasty orange powder off of the sink, my hair dryer, or my glasses case—no fucking clue how that one happened, as the thing is as far away from the sink as I could put it—one more fucking time, I’m going to start throwing her shit away; I mean, for crap’s sake, if you need to put on 14 pounds of foundation and other make-up, you don’t need to be going out in public, I’m just saying..)
• She gets toothpaste spit all over the mirror (Granted, I’ve done it too, but I make sure I clean it up, or even clean the whole mirror at some point; I just cleaned the thing a week and a half ago and it’s already nasty)
• She gets her hair all over the fucking place (I know it’s a natural thing to shed excess hair off of your head, and I know that when you comb it some strands do fall out, but really, does she have to leave it all over the fucking floor? if I brush my hair, I make sure I put the towel I used for the shower [I dry/straighten my hair immediately after a shower because it’s softer then] under where I’m standing so that if I start to shed, the hair goes on the towel that I can dust off IN THE TRASHCAN)
• She’s asked me to take out her trash before (OK, so the room comes with this ugly metal trash can that Sally uses for her trash can; I bought my own so that I don’t have to use the ugly one; mine’s this pretty coral color and I like it a lot; anyway! the point is that I don’t use Sally’s trashcan, so I’m sure as hell not going to take out her trash when I’ve got my own trash to worry about)
• She never, ever, locks the door (Really? You’re living in a big residence hall with, like, 150 other girls, and you’re not going to lock the door when you leave? If I’m in the room still, fine, leave it unlocked, because I’ll lock it when I leave, but if I’m not in the room, and you’re not in the room, then that means there is no one in the room to keep shit from getting stolen; if some of your shit goes missing, don’t blame me, because I make sure I lock the door if I’m going to class or to a friend’s for an extended period of time)

OK. So there’s a list of the small things that honest-to-God get on your nerves after a while. Here’s the big things that ARE NOT—repeat: NOT—cool with me.

Big Things

• She brought a guy over to *ahem* “study” while I was trying to sleep (This. Is. NEVER. OK. EVER. If you have ever had a roommate do this, I want you to tell that roommate that she’s a whore, and that she had better not try to pull that kind of thing again, or you are going to drag their naked ass out of bed and push them out into the hallway, naked as a baby bird, the next time it happens [I have a friend that has done this]. If you are out of town for the weekend, then by all means, let Sally be a hoe; just keep it away from your shit and everything will be cool; but if you are in the room, trying to sleep, because you have somewhere to be the next morning, OH HELL NO. No. No way, Jose. No. That is disrespectful, and that is what guys’ rooms are for. You are NOT going to bring some nasty STD carrier into my room and try to fuck while I’M STILL SLEEPING. For starters, the noises you make aren’t that quiet, and secondly, your bed, you know, the old, rickety one the university gave you? yeah it’s FUCKING LOUD. It squeaks and creaks when you sit on it, so it sure as hell would make noise while you’re trying to fuck. Dumb bitch. Keep in mind that Sally tried to do this TWICE. Both times were unsuccessful, but the fact that she tried speaks volumes)
• She let her friend sleep in my bed (This is also something that is never okay. I don’t let my friends even touch Sally’s stuff, let alone sleep in her bed. That is just.. disrespectful on so many levels. She didn’t even text or call me to ask if it was okay, I just came back to my room at 8 in the morning [I was at a friend’s apartment, we played Apples to Apples for 3 hours and then watched The Ring and Stomp the Yard, that’s all] and found her slutty, pothead friend asleep UNDER MY COVERS—yeah, not even on top of the comforter, but snuggled all up under the covers; she wasn’t using my pillow, thank God, but still, she was in my bed. Uhh.. No ma’am. That is not okay with me. But, because I’m far too nice a person, I let it slide the first time. However. If I find any other of her friends in my bed, I’m gonna drag their asses out of it by their hair and shove them into her bed. NOTE: The excuse Sally gave me was “Dude, we were.. so fucked up last night. I guess she just didn’t want to squeeze in here with me.. sorry.” BITCH! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK HOW STUPID YOU GUYS WERE, YOU DON’T LET YOUR NASTY SKANK OF A FRIEND SLEEP IN MY BED! Jesus.

But yeah, that really pissed me off. I mean.. you would be mad, too, right? And all of my friends think Sally’s this evil bitch who doesn’t have any respect for anything. My suitemate’s friend told her (about Sally), “I met her at a party once. She’s a bitch!” So it’s not just me. It’s other people, which means the problem is Sally.

The funny part, though, was something my suitemate (we’ll call her Jane) told me.
I was hanging out with her this past weekend (the 22nd), we were chilling and talking and having a good time with some *ahem* beverages.. We’ll call it California.. but I had my computer in there, and we were messing around on the internet and whatnot, and then I went to go hang out with this guy that I know (and like We’ll call him Jack). I didn’t get back until like 4 that morning, but Jane gave me my computer with a little piece of information. While I was hanging out with Jack, Jane and Sally had a Facebook chat conversation that went roughly like this:

Jane: Hey, are you in the room?
Sally: No… Why, did you need something?
Jane: No, but Erin left her computer in my room, and I was gonna bring it there if you were in the room, but you’re not there so nevermind.
Sally: Oh, good, she’s leaving shit places, maybe now she’ll move out

And then Jane left quickly and then told me as much when I got back and got my computer back (Sally was still not there when I returned, mind you).

This made me laugh, though. Was she really angry with me? I didn’t see what I had done to her that would make her act and think like that. There was no reason for it.

But there’s only 4 more months left in the semester and then I don’t have to see or hear from her again, so I’m waiting for that. God help me.

But what do you think? Is Sally right in her attitude and behaviors?