Monday, January 28, 2013

Going Up?

Fleeting Thoughts After Eating Sour Skittles With Cuts On My Fingertips

Thought #1

Don't ever eat Sour Skittles with cuts on your fingertips. It stings. All you have to do is remove the 'B' and what do ya got? Taste the rain OW.

Thought #2

Have you ever had your hopes and dreams snatched from your innocent heart and thrown into a blender? I have. The day I discovered that erasable pens didn't really erase that well.

Thought #3

Every night when I lay down to go to sleep, my cat snuggles up with me. Cute, right? Yeah, until she starts nibbling me. It starts out soft...a little chew on the tip of my she's just making sure I'm there. Then she does a she's testing something...and then BAM! Bite. On my nose.

"Don't eat me."

This is always the last thing I say before drifting off to sleep. When I'm particularly tired, it's less casual and more like:


I hope my roommates don't ever hear this. From their perspective, I'm in a dark room, at 2 in the morning, screaming about not getting eaten. Or maybe they think some boy is in my room trying to orally rape me. Is that a thing? Oral rape?

Thought #4

I'm still eating the Skittles. Sugar > pain.

Thought #5

They say: If you want to be a successful blogger, you have to blog everyday. 

Blog everyday? Are they out of their minds? How am I supposed to find something entertaining and somewhat shocking every. single. day? My life isn't a movie. Some days, the most exciting thing I do is take a shower and NOT have the water turn cold on me mid-shampoo. Which, by the way, happens all the fucking time. There's some evil Shower Demon who waits until I get in the shower and shampoo my hair. He doesn't even give me time to condition it; that's how evil he is. As soon as that squirt of Pantene is good and lathered, the Shower Demon sprints to the toilet and flushes it, turning my water from hot to freezing.

By the way, I looked up "demon" in my thesaurus and I found that one of its synonyms is succubus. I'd never heard of a succubus and so I looked up its definition: a female demon believed to have sexual intercourse with sleeping men. 

What the hell? How does that work? It doesn't sound very eventful. Or successful. Unless it's in the morning time? I don't know and I'm getting off topic.

To blog everyday, I end up reaching into my memory and pulling out stories that I refused to tell when they actually happened. I'm resorting to the secretive shit and if it ever gets too personal, FUCK OFF AND STOP READING MY BLOG.

I was visiting friends one year at their university. They lived on campus in a dorm that had an elevator. (This eventually becomes useful information, I assure you. I'm not just randomly alerting you of the building's modern methods of going up.) My first evening there resulted in a night of drinking, mooning strangers, and crashing a frat party, which I blogged about a couple years ago (go find it). However, when I wrote about it then, I left one part out. I cared then, but guess what! I don't care now. It's funny and I want to tell it. Plus, my brain is missing that little part that says, "No."

After the party, my friends all drove back to the dorms. My boyfriend and I somehow didn't make it in the car, or even to the car, for that matter, which we found, in our drunken state of mind, incredibly amusing.

"We're lost! Ahahahahaha!"

After thirty minutes of playing Lewis and Clark, substituting Sacajawea with Chief Na-Tee-Lite, we found some bushes that we believed were UTC bushes. 

"Let's do it in the bushes!"


Some time later.

"We did it in the bushes!"


"Hey, there's our friend's dorm!"

"Oh shit, there it is!"

Some time later.

"Fourth floor, right?"

"I don't remember..."



"Let's do it in the elevator!"


The elevator descends as something else ascends and after a few floors, the doors unexpectedly open. We hear a shriek, and look over at the gaping elevator doors only to see a young girl standing there, holding a couple textbooks and a notebook, with her hand over her mouth, staring wide-eyed at the two naked people sprawled out on the dirty elevator floor.


My boyfriend scrambles up as we both frantically throw our clothes on, slamming the "CLOSE DOOR" button over and over again.










We get off on the next floor and decide to just take the stairs. We're running down, flight after flight, when we almost run straight into the same girl from before, who also had decided to take the stairs. She looks at us and starts giggling nervously as we politely nod and proceed with more profanities.




We arrive back at our friend's dorm, where he sat with our other friends, all of them casually eating breakfast.

"Hey, where have you guys been?"

"Uhhhh...on the elevator."

"Yeah...going up."

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