no more teachers, no more books.

well kids..my bulletproof vest is strapped on tight and i've been rockin' a pretty nasty pimp strut for a little over a week..two telltale signs that i am home crap home in revere.

i am not ready to pull my hair out in a mixture of frustration and boredom..yet. my days have consisted of waking up a shade after 11, eating a big ol' bowl of cereal whilst channel surfing through the plethora of morning talk shows with annoying, makeup-caked hosts (see: kelly ripa and that big mound of woman we call star jones), endless mind-numbing infomercials pushing useless products geared to our agoraphobic friends worldwide, and a whole lotta "behind the music." during commercials, i chill with sandwich (my dog, not the tasty lunchtime treat), shower, or venture to the freezer for a popsicle. i know it's still -84758475 degrees outside, but nothing says "summertime" like a nice, frosty bomb pop..unless, of course, that something is me sitting poolside in a bikini sipping a mimosa. excuse me while i dare to dream.

wow..thus far, my "what i did on my summer vacation" essay royally blows.

yesterday, however, i did manage to tear myself away from my impressive ass-groove long enough to get myself a hot J-O-B for the summer. 40 hours a week organizing files in air-conditioned bliss while dodging bullets on my lunch hour on the mean streets of dorchester? shit man..i'll TAKE it! hellooooOOOOO jackson, grant, and franklin! peace out crappy yet addictive morning television..and sleepies! ever seen me voluntarily awake at the asscrack of dawn? it seldom happens..and things could get ugly.

..loathing 6 a.m. on tuesday to the fullest,
lex

anatomy 101.

i hate cold weather and horny upstairs neighbors.

when i was a wee tyke (same size..but with bangs and a wardrobe comprised of colors you would need sunglasses to look directly at), when the middle of march rolled around and the calendar said spring, mother nature whipped up a nice reprieve from the cold new england winters that had finally come to an end. i remember playing some serious games of red rover and off the wall, clad in only a tank top, shorts, and devious grin. would you mess with that? yeah..i didn't think so.

guess mother nature has been neglecting her meds, shifting her alzheimer's into 5th gear, because it's may and it's still highly likely that if i stepped outside sans long sleeves, a hood, and 7 layers of long undies, i could very well lose a nipple. what GIVES, mama n? can't you tear yourself away from reruns of the golden girls and matlock long enough to hook a sistah up with some sunshine? let's be realistic here. c'mon..i've gone through approximately 12 replacement nipples since monday alone. lucky 13 may just put me over the edge.

so as i mentioned briefly in my last stress filled i'm-gonna-shove-a-pen-through-my-eyeball-if-i-study-anymore entry, the dark cloud called finals has cast its shadow over downtown storrs. while most people are off chillen with homer or pulling an all-nighter in the study lounge whilst hopped up on one too many red bulls, my upstairs neighbors have adopted a different approach to dealing with this untimely season that makes most of us silently hope that our roommate has an unfortunate encounter with a runaway steam roller (4.0 baby..hook that ish up).

enter: the end of semester power fucking marathon in 728.

scenario: it is 2:27am and i have just finished studying for an 8am exam the following morning. i say to myself, "self, you deserve some sleep after relearning an entire semester's worth of lecture notes and powerpoint slides in under 3 hours. get thee to the top bunk." i'm not one to disagree with good advice, so i jumped into my pjs and crawled under the covers for some much needed shut-eye. after tossing and turning for 10 minutes to find my desired comfort groove, my schooled-out body finally starts to drift off to sleepyland. then, it happens. i hear a squeak from above my head. followed by another squeak. and another squeak. and the thumping of a headboard. and an "uhhhhuhhhhhooohhhhHHHHHHHH!" and more squeaks. and more headboard thumping. and then nothing..for about five minutes before the whole damn thing starts over again. i'm still half-expecting two nekid, sweaty bodies to come a-crashin' through my ceiling before the week is over. dag, yo. to whom it may concern, i hope your respective (and i use that term very loosely) reproductive organs pack up and leave for a nice long vacation. they deserve it after all the overtime they've been putting in these days. do i smell a end of year bonus? nope..must be something else. ew.

..living out my remaining nights at the 'conn in a delightful mixture of fear and disgust,
lex

here to stay.

newsflash: i am not dead.

i'm sure that all 12 (ok..3) of you have been worried sick because of my recent lack of entries. i know i should have called first..or at least given the special hand signal..but i have just been too stressed the fuckout from school and finals and people and such to let y'all know until now (right now..when i should be utilizing my time to finish a paper instead of talking to you schmucks..but i digress).

so cancel the search party. call the milk carton people. tell oprah to back the hell up. i'm alive. i'm kickin'. i'm losing my hair from school-induced anxiety..and i still look better than you.

..counting down the days til summaaaahhhhhh,
lex

catholicism wow.

behold! jesus christ has died for our sins and we are rewarded not only with eternal salvation and deliverance from evil (amen)..but also with candy-coated chocolate eggs and marshmallow peeps from an fluffy, oversized rodent in a pink pastel bowtie! can life get much better? i submit that it CANNOT! thanks j.c. you are truly the ish.

over the past few years, i have realized that celebrating easter with my family is not leisurely by any stretch of the imagination. it is a full-contact sport. scenario: it is a pristine spring day in the ghetto they call revere. the sun is shining and a light, cool breeze is blowing from the west. my extended family is gathered on the deck behind my aunt and uncle's house, enjoying the beautiful (its about damn time!) weather and each other's company. my uncle then announces that the now yearly tradition of the easter egg hunt will commence in approximately 5 minutes.

uh oh.

that seemingly innocent declaration draws the same reaction every year. the kiddies begin scheming with each other, but all the while plotting their individual domination in their devious little minds. the dogs sniff their respective no-no places. the adults jockey for a good position with their cameras, because, hey, capturing your loved ones engage in hand-to-hand combat over cheap plastic is a memory worthy of savoring for always. then, the three words known to cause all hell to break loose bellow from my uncle's throat: "ready. set. go."

a shove-and-slapfest between young and old alike rapidly ensues. scandal! sabotage! snacks! (mmmm..snacks..). it's every man for himself..and trust me..the aftermath ain't pretty. skinned knees, eye gouging, and temper tantrums are all standard features. in-your-face victory squeals/taunts from my 25 year old cousin are available with the deluxe model. mastercard's got nuthin' on my kin. they are PRICELESS.

man..i love the holidays.

..nursing a compound fracture to the fibula and a severely bruised ego,
lex

some people make me sad.

regardless of what friends, strangers or your company policy may say, harassment is pretty dang fun.

unless you are residing in an ice-covered shanty on the northwest quadrant of antarctica, you've probably realized that spring has sprung like a 12-year-old boy after sneaking a peak at his dad's stash of playboys. so, much like the beginning of second semester (spring break gym whores whatWHAT!), the majority of the uconn campus is once again out, about, and lookin' pretty flippin' stupid, all on the (often unattainable) quest to look good nekid. of course, this means that even the most unkempt and portly are strutting their (excessive) stuff around campus that have been known to warrant many a what-the-HELL-are-you-THINKING double take.

what's a gal to do in a situation like this? that's right kiddies..sling insults from a fourth floor window with the help of an equally acid-tongued accomplice, one mr. jeff houle. among the numerous cornea cinging abominations witnessed this afternoon from 404 chandler were half-lobster woman, leap year mack truck face, bad booty brigades, countless runners closely resembling various species of sloth and supersoaker toting assailants in wife beaters with sad looking afros. without your dysfunction, the going-ons of jeff and my tuesday afternoon would have been strictly relegated to homework and reality television. uconn, i thank you.

one thing that i do NOT thank uconn for is the 8374589475987 pounds of stress and annoyance it dumps on its students as the academic year draws to a close. irritable tempers and roommate sabotage have ensued..meaning that housing selection has reared its ugly head once again. can someone please explain to me how all seniors get housing and totally screw the rest of us into the ground when they aren't even guaranteed housing in the first place? poor little me, on the brink of upperclassman status, is currently stuck living in a regular ol' dorm room when i really should be livin' the life of luxury in the suites. honestly, i think that the only feasible solution to this little problem is for me to go down to reslife and throw down wwe style. i'm more than just a plucky brunette with an ass that won't quit. plus..i wear rings. be prepared for an ass-whoopin', drl. for serious.

..always the polite pretty princess,
lex

shmexis brings the pain.

i think i may just have to reinstate the big plastic bubble idea..because i just can't be left to my own devices for more than five minutes without bringing harm upon myself or others. for example: walking. putting one foot in front of the other at a slow to moderate pace meant to get a person from point A to point B..sometimes to point C for a quick snack or bathroom break (even though both should have been taken care of before leaving the house like moms said). it's a fairly easy task, yet i somehow manage to mess it up on a daily basis by trying to complete another task in the process. today, i left my room to grab a newspaper and take out the trash. after disposing of the garbage, i embarked on the 5 to 7 second walk back to my room when an exceptionally large headline caught my eye. i glanced down for one hot minute and BAM..the right side of my body got real intimate with a sweet (but not really my type) piece of wall. hell, i can jump rope and juggle several watermelons while spinning 18 plates on sticks and tap dance michael flatley style without breaking a sweat..but walking and reading? amateurs need not apply..cuz this is OBVIOUSLY only for the experts.

wincing in a mixture of pain and where-the-hell-did-that-wall-come-from, i gimped the rest of the way back to the room and closed the door, wondering when this seemingly endless bout of clumsiness began (maybe following that black cat under a ladder on a sidewalk covered in cracks last week wasn't the best idea..). apparently thinking and walking is something else that cannot successfully do, because at that very moment i slipped on a notebook and banged my right knee, the same knee that was still reeling from a chance encounter with a concrete wall several seconds prior, into my desk chair. i'm not even going to try walking and chewing gum at the same time. it just may prove fatal considering my current track record.

in the few minutes left in the day when i am not laid up because of my latest injury, i have been busy slaving away to my major (journalism if y'all haven't guessed by now). even though writing is something that i love to do (evidence: helloooOO blogger!) and am pretty damn good at (thankyouverymuch), it's definitely something that's going to put my already short temper to the test. for serious, being a journalist is like going on an episode of "blind date"..minus those nifty thought bubbles. at first, people are all excited to meet you, but as soon as they realize who you are and what your intentions could potentially be, the "date" quickly begins to resemble an episode of "cops:" dodging questions left and right and occasionally involving high-speed car chases and liberal use of mace. and then they have the nerve to say they will call you back..but NEVER DO. those little evasion tactics may have worked for you in the past..but not anymore. there's a new sheriff in town..and she's gonna take you down. i have a badge and everything yo.

..laying down the law (then needing medical attention after tripping over it),
lex

rawk with me, won't you?

while suffering from an extreme case of boredom and procrastination a few nights back, i began scouring the profile of every person on my buddy list (you know you do it too..don't deny) and found a quote so accurate that i was half expecting guy smiley and his massive chompers to show up and shriek, "alexisshmexis..this is your life!"

guy never showed up (a honker fight at mr. hooper's store took precedence, i'm sure)..but the quote went a little somethin' like this: always avoid drama..keep things easy..forget the future..be yourself..never give a fuck..and bite your tongue for NO ONE. if those few words didn't sum up the mess that i fondly refer to as my life then i don't know what will. i mean really..biting your tongue is probably one of the most unfun things that you can do, including getting a red-hot poker in the eye or a knee to the groin..discluding slip 'n slides.

also rivaling the aforementioned tortures is getting roughed up by middle-schoolers..when you are in college. regardless of what you may hear or think, 12 year olds in large numbers are a force to be reckoned with. scenario: me and big mike go to woooostahhh for a night of some much needed rockin' out courtesy of those lovable canucks, simple plan. imagine my surprise when we arrived at the venue and saw glitter, safety pins, and parental chaperones as far as the eye could see. seeing as though the collective height of the prepubescent crowd towered over my teeny fivefoottwo frame, i was the proud owner of a baker's dozen new bumps and bruises by the time the show let out. definitely worth the pain..but i'm still telling my mom.

not much else to report/comment on/kick to the curb this time around..it's been a pretty uneventful week. our regularly scheduled idiocy will resume momentarily.

here's a great joke..YOUR FACE! ahhhh yes..there it is.

..seriously reconsidering picking on someone my own size,
lex