Conversation with My Stalker

So I have a stalker. I am quite aware of her as we have regular conversations. Maybe the correct term would be stalker/super-fan. Since I see this person every business day, it only feels necessary to acknowledge her presence and the strange impact she has on my everyday life. One of the strangest conversations went a bit like this:
Stalker (yelling across the campus): I'm type O+!
Me: Eh? (And I wonder why people as me if I'm from Canada)
S: I'm a freakin' superhero!
M: Again, what?
S: Everyone wants my blood. I could be the best donor ever!
M: I'll start working on your cape.
S: But I'm a pansy.
M: So you'll be hoarding all your blood then?
S: Do you give blood?
M: No, I don't weigh enough.
S: Ugh.
M: Maybe you could say you have a little bit of AIDs.
S: Just a little bit of AIDs?
M: Yeah, like a hint in your pinky toe or something.
S: Wow. I need to cut off my pinky toe. Can you still walk without that?
M: Well, Chandler does it, but he only lost the tip...
S: What?
M: Nevermind. Daily Friends reference. Oh, I'm a nerd.
And that is the actual conversation. So now if you choose to stalk you know what to expect from your competition. That one really sets the bar.

Sidewalk Incidents and How to Respond

Sidewalks intend to provide a path of travel to a destination: class, food, home, work, orgy, whatever. Sometimes, however, little things get in our way. Most of us don’t fret over these little incidents until they come up—unless you have some sort of an uncontrollable anxiety disorder. Sorry, this must be hell for you. Well, maybe I can make life easier, or maybe now you’ll just notice these incidents even more. Sucks to be you in that case. Here we go:

1. The dance: This happens when you and another person are walking directly toward each other. Usually I continue to walk on my intended path waiting for someone else to move. (What? I’m little and don’t take up much room. Move your ass.) However, some movement is generally needed. Logically, I think to shift to my right because that is how traffic on the street flows. Often, the other person will move in the same direction and you will initiate a dance.
Solution: You can respond by moving farther to the other direction or make awkward eye contact to indicate which direction you intend on going. If neither works, start break dancing. Your challenger will move immediately in some other direction.

2. The herd: This occurs when you have 3 or more people who insist on chatting while they move to their destinations. These are friends and tours.
Solution: Personally, I prefer to walk straight through the crowd to let this irritating pack know where it stands. Although, usually you can quicken your speed or step off the sidewalk into the grass (gasp!) to bypass these jerks. Just beware of the dancing herds…

3. The quick chat: These assholes stop abruptly right in front of you when you’re walking. Solution: They suck. Plow into them.

4. The random cycler/the John Deere contraption: These will stalk you until you move out of their way so that they can pass on the sidewalk. Okay, I maybe understand the bicycle, but why is there a gator honking for me to move? Ever heard of the street, buddy?!
Solution: Move, then shoot the bird.

5. The wave of embarrassment: I’m not so sure which situation is worse with this case. Case 1: You see someone and start to wave. He/she looks at you funny, and then you realize that it’s not who you thought, just a very similar looking imposter. Dammit. Case 2: You think someone is waving at you so you wave back. This person is not waving at you, and now you feel stupid.
Solution: Stop waving at people. This is the opportunity to bring back the lame head nod.

6. The Worst: While walking to class, you spot an acquaintance heading in your direction. To smile, to wave, to pretend not to notice, to change paths completely? And so little time to decide.
Solution: Stop hooking up with people on a drunken Wednesday night—or at least make an effort to remember the name.

Classroom Etiquette Series: Shut Up Already

A class is never completely quiet, even during exams--actually, these may be the worst days for noise. First of all, we can break the noisemakers down to categories: the jackhammers, the munchers, the rufflers, the snifflers, the drummers, and the buzzers. Let's break it down.

The Jackhammers
I'm convinced that everyone with a clickable pen competes for a spot in the book of world records. Whether it be for fastest clicks or most irritating pattern. They are the jackhammers constantly punching at my brain through my ears.

The Munchers
Most classrooms at my school have suggestions posted outside the doors which state, "NO food or drink in classroom." This sheet of paper does not prove intimidating, at least not when a bag of chips and soda from the nearest campus eatery puts a student out 6 bucks. Thus begins the crunching, crinkling, fizzing, and gulping.

The Rufflers
These are the ones who peruse pages on the test or in a notebook (or a light porn magazine disguised as a notebook). At the rate the rufflers flip through their materials, I'm torn as to whether these people have amazing speed reading ability or just ADD.

The Snifflers
I understand that most people think that blowing snot out of their faces seems disgusting and quite unattractive. Well, these people are right. However, what's more irritating is the constant sniffles that attempt to keep mucus in the head. Please just excuse yourself to the restroom to release it or something. Stop waking me from my precious day dreams.

The Drummers
A desk is not combination writing surface/drum pad. Don't practice beats in class. While I do appreciate the attempt to jazz up the professor's lecture, but it doesn't work. Get all that energy out in a Rock Band session or on a roommate's head.

The Buzzers
OMFG, Ms. Popularity must keep up on the 411 at all times. Granted, these buzzers are mildly respectful--they'll usually put their phones on vibrate. However, the buzzers don't just text once. No, a cycle of buzzing, typing, and repeating ensues.

So while the occasional text message or bag of chips isn't so bad, the chorus of the above groups gets really irritating. So shut up already!

To Do List: Sober Monday

Like many of my peers I have a dry erase board in my room. I usually keep to do lists or grocery lists on this board. Well, today this list I had up was not satisfactory to one one my friends. Only on a completely sober Monday night after playing a couple hours of Wii did this pop up:

1. Buy Beth a new Mercedes Benz SLK 350
2. order male stripper
3. Lear[n] to write correctly [this was supposed to make fun of my terrible handwriting; she forgot the "n" in learn]
4. Make internet work
5. Make Beth gourmet meal
6. Buy beth new wardrobe
7. And one more male stripper - firefighter.

I love college.

Restroom Etiquette/Actual Blog 2

I have a whole idea of how things should work--at least in general. Enter classroom etiquette. I almost forgot about restroom etiquette. Here's a little piece I pulled from my myspace blog that fits here.

"Situation: Walk in to a public restroom with more than 4 stalls. Take your position at the first stall in line. Hear the door to the restroom open and listen as a new person takes position at the stall directly adjacent to yours. WTF. Why is it necessary for this person to go there? Is it me, or does it seem normal to skip a stall or two? The only reason I bring this up is because it happened approximately 3 times within 4 days. Come on now!"
January 28, 2008

Wanna Spoon...Huh Huh

I'm breaking from the 5 Steps of Graduation for a bit. Until then, here's something I've had hidden away for awhile.

Freshman year was the year of the dating pool. Since high school produced little--okay NO results in successful dating, my freshman year proved quite interesting. For some reason, this little Indiana girl started getting attention. The first week on campus, my college had a nice orientation week which allowed freshmen to commence their own exclusive orgies before the upperclassmen arrived. Welcome to your new home: here’s your class schedule and box of Lifestyles condoms.

So my first encounter with the college dating scene occurred the second day of orientation week. (What can I say, I was a late bloomer in high school. Let’s get things started right away here.) A few girls I was hanging out with that night ran into this group of guys. After about 20 minutes of poking fun of each other and discussing hometowns and other bullshit, the ladies and I retracted to stake claim on each of the guys. As we huddle together to discuss game plans, we were all in consensus that one of the guys, whom we’ll call Schwacky, was into me. Alright, cool. He’s sorta cute in that way when your brain screams, “Hey! We’ve had no lip action here for a few months. Could we work on that, please?”

We return to mindlessly gab with the guys for a while until Schwacky learns that I play guitar. Apparently girls with guitar skills are hard to resist…even if they suck, which I do. (Whatever. I still maintain that trumpet for electric guitar starter pack at a local music shop = best trade EVER.) Completely ignoring everything we had learned in the date rape session earlier that day during orientation, I decide to take a walk with Schwacky so I can school him on guitar. Again, my rape whistle was screaming for me not to go up to his room, but once again I ignored the shrill warning-- my ears were filled with power chords. This is also the same day I vowed to not live with a guy until he could meet my cleanliness standards or could give me multiple orgasms in one fantastic worshiping session. Wow. I learned that a male dormitory is a special place. I loved on his cheap Fender Squier for about 20 minutes before we decided to meet for lunch at another time.

Lunch rolls around a few days later, and we have some awkward casual conversation. I’m not entirely sure if I’m into this guy at the point. I snap a picture of him with my camera phone so I can gauge my hometown friends’ approvals since I was to return for the first time in a couple weeks. He walks me back to my dorm *which is up the hill far away from his which is down the hill*. We chat and flirt outside the door for about a half an hour. I just had a lot of juice at lunch and really had to pee. Now I know it’s not entirely attractive to just say “Okay, gotta pee. Later!” to end this date. So as he plays with my hand and stalls, I just say, “Yeah, I know you want to kiss me so come over here.” I make the move, he promises to call, and he leaves. Good, now I can pee. Sweet relief.

A few days later, I decide to bring my trusty [future] roommate along for the next lunch date we had. He had a friend, my roommate was single for the day—why not make things interesting. Besides, her opinion was important to me. I highly valued the opinion of a girl I’d known for approximately two weeks. So I’m still on the fence about Schwacky. No joke, we’re eating and continuing with strange conversation when I hear the lame attempt at humor: “Huh huh, wanna spoon?” as he holds up the spoon in his hand. Let me tell you this: It’s amazing how only a single phrase can evoke a very exaggerated scoff and make me want to permanently laminate my V card for storage in a well hidden safety deposit box. Oh no, this just isn’t going to work out for me…

5 Stages of Graduation Teaser: Second Stage: Anger

My gown swallows me and the cap messes with the tresses. I am but a child playing dress up—and I feel ridiculous. My feet won’t quite fit the shoes placed before me. I’m pissed. This isn’t right. Why doesn’t everything fit the way it’s supposed to?

Preview: 5 Stages of Graduation

Hey, all. This is a major work in progress for me. I actually think it will be my baby for the next few weeks. What I'm posting is only a starting point.
On another note, I know you readers are out there! Let me know by leaving some comments or criticisms. Feedback keeps me going!
So without further ado...

The five stages of approaching graduation are strikingly similar to the five stages of approaching death. Okay—they are exactly the same. Thanks to social scientist, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, I can identify these steps and prepare accordingly. (Or not.)

First Stage: Denial
When approaching my last spring break it hits. Oh, shit, I’m almost done with college. What the hell have I been doing for the past 3 ½ years? (Hmm, don’t open that box.) There’s no way it’s over in 8 weeks. I still have projects to complete, friends to meet, drinks to shoot, mistakes to make. The world as I know it is real, why do they say I have to leave it for a different reality? I like where I’m at. I’m staying right here.

Seat Establishment Revisited: Circular Seating

Sometimes professors believe that the rigid arrangement of straight rows does not properly facilitate class discussion. To be as irritating as humanly possible, said professor demands a circular seating arrangement. This completely eliminates any anonymity one might enjoy from the traditional class setup. It also makes napping quite difficult (but not impossible). Same seat establishment rules apply when forming this circle. Find a place you like and stay there. The problem with the circle is that it is never formed exactly the same way. If I feel that the person next to me invaded my personal (and sometimes intimate) space, I'll make up for it the next class meeting by leaving a considerable gap between us. All seems well until the laggards shuffle into class. There is a distinction to be made between these laggards. The first couple that come in late to assume their seats are usually okay. Everyone can shift a little bit so that these violators can squeeze a chair in. Generally, I can still retain an 8 inch personal space bubble. When the kid that distinctly smells of rye and sweat attempts to force his chair in his usual spot, it does not sit well with me. Can't you see it's already overcrowded here? Why must you perch on my lap? I'm pretty sure that you did not establish my thighs as your permanent seat for the semester. So get off--you smell.

More Fan Art

This art really has absolutely nothing to do with my writings--it is just awesome. Thanks, Chelsea!