Random Tangents Concerning Randomness
I'm waiting to check out at the bookstore when the girl waiting in line behind me strikes up a conversation. Immediately, I know she's a freshman. Only freshman are that eager to talk.
freshman: There are way more sororities and faternities here than I thought there would be!
me: I know. I know some really nice sorority girls, but I don't understand the whole Greek thing. It's like paying to have a social life. I don't need to buy my friends.
freshman: I'm in a sorority...
me: Oh. Sorry. Uh..."please, sir, can I have another?!"
me: Animal House.
freshman: Is that a sorority house?
I walk into the bathroom and choose a stall (there's more to the story here - keep reading.) I find that I cannot use The Chosen Stall because someone has taken a giant dump and refused to flush. This is college, for crying out loud. We're all way too old to forget to flush. And whoever the culprit is needs to change their diet immediately.
Then it struck me that I can never get away with taking an anonymous shit. It's my feet. They give me away.
"Someone is shitting. I can smell it."
"Where's the smell coming from?"
"That stall over there. Look under the door. The one with the bowling shoes."
"Oh, bowling shoes? That's Natasha."
I realized the culprit was innocent when I discovered that the toilets flush automatically. Do you ever reach down to wipe and the toilet starts flushing? Who the fuck invented the automatic flush? I'd much rather touch a handle that other hands have touched than have my own piss sprayed all over my ass and hand.
(Alright, so I just looked it up. Apparently the automatic flushing toilet was invented in 1988 by a Mr. Martin J. Laverty, Jr. Knowing this doesn't really solve anything except now I know who to blame every time a toilet suddenly turns into a high-powered bidet. "Martin, Junior: watering your ass since '88.")
A bad relationship should be called a relationshit.
guy: Hey...are you Natasha Ferrier?
me: Yeah! Wait, do I know you?
guy: Yeah, you went to Hillsboro High School. Mike Walker.
me: Yeah I know Mike Walker! My sister and I used to hang out with him! Do you know Mike Walker?
guy: I am Mike Walker...
...well this is just embarrassing.
me: Hey! I was just calling to see if you were on campus.
sister: Yeah, I am! I have a two-hour break if you wanna meet up.
me: YES. I'm by the library right --- oh shit, I see you!
sister: (approaching me) ...Is that my dress.
me: What? No! I bought this dress last week.
sister: That's my dress.
me: OH, you mean you have this same dress?
sister: No. I had that dress. Then it suddenly went missing.
me: Uh...what are you implying?
sister: You know I had that dress. You used to compliment me on it all the time in high school.
me: High school? Dude, that was like six years ago. I don't remember you having this dress.
sister: (with a glare that could cause a genocide) That's my dress.
me: Look. I bought this dress last week at Collective Clothing for eight dollars. This is all just a coincidence.
me: Are you seriously implying that I stole your dress, kept it hidden for six years, and am now lying to you about buying it from the store?
sister: I don't know, are you?
me: This is ridiculous. I did not steal your dress. We're not even the same size.
sister: (walks off)
me: Hey! HEY!
sister: (continues to walk off)
...I think 90% of all arguments between sisters would never occur if we all lived in a nudist colony.