snoozebars, snowfall and stds..oh MY.

if i went outside right now and just stood there, within approximately 4.3 seconds, all 5 foot 2 of me (stop laughing..that's my real height..on a good day..meaning today i am closer to 3' 7"..) would be completely covered with a semi-thick layer of snow. god really needs to start using head and shoulders..cuz these flakes are the size of carpet squares (remember those?! naptime rules!).

after a slapfest with my snooze bar that lasted close to 45 minutes (not even close to my previously set record of 3 hours and 17 minutes but whatev), i rolled over and mumbled to my roomie, "hey can i see that stupid article for.." those 8 words were all that i said..because it was only then that i realized that my roommate (and the stupid article) were nowhere to be found. so yeah..i was talking to myself. please bust out the straight jacket and escort me to a padded cell as soon as possible.

on tuesdays and thursdays, i have about an hour between women's studies and lit class, so i usually come back to the dorm, grab some grub, and veg for a while until i have to get back on the shuttle and ship off to heinous blond bitch on wheels 127..i mean english. as i mentioned earlier (just scroll up if the ahlzies is kickin' in), the white stuff was coming down pretty heavy and i was debating whether or not to subject myself to the elements just to learn a few useless facts that would be erased from my memory as soon as the tv is flipped on later. i DO have a midterm on tuesday in lit, so i said to myself, "self..you really should go to class..even though a mere glimpse of your teacher could turn you to stone." being the ever conscientious student i am (again, stifle the laughter), i pack up my "learning appliances" (i.e., backpack, notebook, juicebox, rice krispie treat, etc) and trek my sweet ass downstairs and onto the shuttle. we were in i-lot when the loud girl on the cell phone (there's always one) announced to the entire shuttle that classes from 12:30 on were cancelled because of the weather, prompting everyone and their mother, brother, and second cousin's hamster to whip out their respective wireless devices and call anyone who could potentially be effected by this revelation. of course i'm doing the happy dance because i don't have class..but i am too far from my dorm to walk back without risking losing a limb from frostbite. so i did what any self-respecting, lazy-ass, i'd-rather-be-sleeping college student would do: take the shuttle all the way back around campus back to the dorm, where a pair of sweatpants and spongebob blanket were anxiously awaiting my return. the problem was (now try to contain your surprise) everyone else (and their mother, brother, and second cousin's hamster) had the same damn idea. lots of inappropriate closeness and crotches to the facial region ensued.

i may have a slight (ok..excessive) tendency to think the worst of people..but when people deserve their props..i give 'em. in the closing moments of the longest shuttle ride in modern history, where people were packed in so tightly that several restraining orders were implemented upon departure, several of my fellow shuttle buddies kept me laughing so hard my eyes started to tear. anecdote worthy of repeating: "hey..what if this was a friday night and we were all cocked as hell? that would be awesome." the mental picture in itself was enough that the sheer thought of it now is still making me giggle.

in a related story, i would like to express my sincere gratitude to judy m for honoring my request to have a sharp object ready for me to jab into my eye upon my return to the dorm. a graphic depiction will be displayed on the whiteboard until for-ev-er.

i would also like to inform those who expressed concern (aka my moms) that since my last post, i have yet to encounter another slipperooo. the plastic bubble has since been moved into the abandoned warehouse where all stupid and short-lived ideas i have had since age fetus now reside in useless peace and harmony.

apparently, there is a chlamydia epidemic sweeping the population of downtown storrs. shield your genitals kiddies..this could get messy. also, ewwwwwwwwwwww.

..off to make snow angels and stock up on contraceptives,
lex

i am the mayor of pain.

i fell thrice times in under 24 hours. i should be outlawed from walking and quarantined to a plastic bubble for the remainder of my existence.

..in dire need of a full-body bandage,
lex

a fringed leather jacket would have made this day perfection.

i'm attempting to think of an analogy to accurately describe my current state of being..and all that seems to fit is UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH. to quote the man, the myth, the legend jesse chisholm: "i feel like a big bag of mess..and i don't think i like it."

picture the carefree antics and wild shenanigans of one mr. ferris bueller on his very famous day off. and seeing as though it was on approximately 845874857 times on friday (big ups to the new TNN) and i am now even more well versed in everything bueller, i can conclude beyond a shadow of a doubt that my day was the exact polar opposite of that. join me, will you, for a quick trip down memory lane.

so i wake up rockin' a pretty lethal hangover (no need to lick my palms here..this was for serious) and realize very quickly that i have to move the civic (not a ferrari california that i never drive, but instead rub with a diaper) from x-lot and gas it up, the least i could do for it after the obscene amount of driving i did this weekend (driving? in a car? who DOES that?). so me and jeff (my very own version of cameron frye) scamper down the hill in the torrential rain (it never rained on ferris..jeanie maybe..but never ferris), hop in the civic, and start it up. now is the time where i will dazzle y'all with my impression of what my car then did just to bust my nonexistent balls (although it would be better if this could be done, in song, atop a parade float in downtown chicago): sputter-sputter-eeee-eeee-eeee-shakey-shakey-haha-lex-this-is-what-you-get-i-hate-you-peace-out-mofo-kersplat-caput-stall. so of course i did the only logical thing i could think of: scream forever and go into a catatonic trance that could only be remedied by falling off a diving board.

when once again able to function properly, i called the roomie (definitely playing the role of "mom") and she picks my, by that point, completely drenched self up and we go to the gas station to revive poor, poor blue. the attendant, strangely reminiscent of one of the sketchy guys at the parking garage..accent and all, hooks me up with one of those little red emergency gas caddies. i once again scamper back outside and we zoom back to x-lot (cue star wars music and slow-mo video footage) where i proceeded to dribble gas all over my frostbitten hands whilst trying to quench the thirsty tank. after i was done (read: 7 years later), me and ol' blue zipped back to the gas station for round 2 with the sketchball foreign guy. i filled my tank, got even more soaked by the subsiding rain, and peaced out of the piece like it was my job.

i would have gotten away with this whole thing scot-free..if my moms (mr. rooney for SURE) asked me the inevitable question "so honey..how is your car running?". what i should have done was ask her to make me some soup and then squeal in satisfaction, but i elected to tell her the whole damn story, and was once again made privy to the fact that honesty isn't always the best policy..because my ass got screamed at for a good 5 minutes about "responsibility" and what a "dumbass" i was for "letting it go too far" because "the e is there for a reason." and all this time i thought it was just for decoration. excuse me while i blush and grin sheepishly.

and THAT, my friends, is the crapfest that is my life. i will gladly accept your sympathy..in addition to cash, check, and all major credit cards.

..pucker up buttercup,
lex

children of the 80s, unite!

two posts in two days?! i must be going MAD. mad..or bored..or horny as hell..take your pick..

do you guys remember mash? you know..mansion apartment shack house? that you and all your little friends used to cramp your fingers up feverishly writing at the lunch table..only to find out you would be married to harold with the stinky breath, have 43 children, drive a purple tricycle, and live in a shack in guadalajara? as we left , mash became shelved in the back of our tiny prepubescent minds, in between hypercolor t-shirts and jem..tear!

apparently though..someone was smart enough (or mad..or bored..or horny as hell..take your pick) to initiate the MASH COMEBACK! i kid you not..www.playmash.com is the ish. and if it is accurate (and why wouldn't it be seeing as though it was created by second graders?)..i am going to be married to the afrolicious philosophosophizer himself john raus (don't mess..he'll go brandon lee style on yo' ass!), have one kid, drive a yellow pony (and i don't mean mustang..but probably in dire need of an air-freshener), and live in a mansion in storrs, connecticut. this would of course mean that i would have to end my long-term relationship with my television set, a lively combination of tv and vcr..but it's for the best. mash has created me a life where i can look out into the backyard of my mansion in the busy and bustling town (laugh it up if ya know..shut it if ya don't) of storrs and see my one adorable and quick-witted child riding a yellow pony..and that child has a 'fro so big that it could potentially eclipse the sun. with tv, that dream could never be a reality..not even on cable. sorry tv..it's over. my people will be in touch.

so give it a go and revel in your childhood once more..however i am waiving all responsibility if you get stuck with harold. don't give me that look..i'll tell.

..all mashed up,
lex

tide can't help my mess of a life.

i'd been feeling a tad too cracker-like here at the 'conn (although i'm sure you are wondering just how that's possible with friends like mine)..so i thought it was high time to ghetto myself up. that's right kiddies..(dramatic pause)..i went home for the weekend.

even though the thought of my hometown has been known to cause the chunks to rise in my throat because of a select few ignorant assholes who shall remain nameless, i don't mind going home so much anymore. i can do my laundry for free (take that mac-gray!), get some quality eats courtesy of mama mattera, and have everyone fall all over themselves to appease me. in short (much like the collective height home on the range), my family rocks. don't be jealous. we'll adopt you.

that being said, i think that my washing machine and dryer are out to get me..for serious. every time i try to save a few bucks by bringing my laundry home, these devil appliances sense that i am taking business away from their quarter-filled counterparts back at the 'conn, have a quick intervention, and *mysteriously* something always gets ruined. first it was my blue sweater, which now is a wardrobe staple of my pygmy 12-year-old sister. then it was demise of, as big mike playfully calls them, my pink "hot pants" with a big black ink stain on the left bumcheek (thanks to the aforementioned pygmy 12 year old). which brings us to the most recent addition to the cute clothes cemetery: my monster slippers. one minute, silky smooth..the next, a-callin' for some afro sheen. please observe a moment of silence.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand done.

so guys at uconn are really gross. i just wanna put that out there. before y'all get all up in arms about it, i'll give you my reasoning. not all uconn guys are skeezy mofos..just those with the staring problems and enormous rods that have been confined to the gym since the beginning of the semester. a new addition to my workout routine (which has FINALLY gotten back to normal after the spring break gym whores returned to their ass-grooved futons, d.p. dough in hand..and i'll bet all over their faces) has been doing laps in the pool instead of on the track a few times a week. just so happens that the pool is located smack dibbity-dab in the middle of the gym, in full view for treadmill enthusiasts and iron-pumping 'roid-heads alike. i SWEAR..it's like these people have never seen a soaking wet, bathing suit clad gal with a bangin' ass in their entire lives. and contrary to popular beliefs, having about 84758465 pairs of eyes boring holes into your speedo isn't the most pleasant feeling. if i want to feel like a piece of meat, i'll go to the outback. gentlemen..you are truly "upstanding"..now watch out before you drop a dumbbell and render yourself useless in the baby-making process. it's for your own good.

one more thing before i call it a night (aka park it on the couch and veg like it's my J-O-B), i am NOT INTERESTED in "adding a few inches to my penis." hey internet porn industry, grey's anatomy called. girls don't have penises..except for hilary swank. make a mental note.

..wondering if anyone else feels like a steak right now,
lex

i think i could possibly have rage issues.

dammit dammit DAMMIT..oh yeah..and hello.

i'm annoyed right now. i'm sure you are thinking "what else is new..there is ALWAYS something pissing you off!" while you are correct in that aspect..well..you're right. i really can't think of a single instance when i haven't been heated over something in recent months. maybe it's true: i'm just a bitter bitch who needs to get laid. discuss amongst yourselves. diagrams, charts, and other assorted graphic aids are encouraged.

the weekend is practically my only downtime this semester given my crazy-ass educational commitments. it's my time to kick back, relax, and wake up from an alcohol induced slumber on saturday morning and question the events of the previous evening over the dining hall's only enjoyable feature: made-to-order omelets. that's what weekends are for in college for god's sake. professors though..they don't give a rat's ass about my well-being..hence the THREE TESTS i have next week..two of which are on one day..back-to-back. you people are an educated bunch..but you gotta talk to each other when scheduling exams that could make or break my grade point average. don't be shy.

if you didn't already know..motorola and verizon suck big balls. i think it's some kind of prerequisite if you are going to have a business that deals with wireless communication..or dealing with people in general. so my phone charger mysteriously (read: sabotage) broke..and of COURSE the phone i have, which looks like one of those toy cell phones that candy comes in, was only manufactured for about 5.4 seconds. so now i have to shovel the civic out of a heap of snow that probably quadruples me in size and mass, drive to the mall, and deal with some "friendly customer service technician" (aka asshole with a headset) to get a whole new phone with money that i just don't have at the moment. just out of curiosity, would it be so wrong to bust out the judo-chops on these mofos? yeah..i thought not.

have you ever walked in on two people copulating? i almost did..and it was just as emotionally scarring as getting picked last in gym class..after the fat kid with asthma and the kid w tape on his glasses..not to mention the paraplegic and dracula (never happened..i swear).

the fact that i totally beat the crap out of my cold is keeping me in high spirits. i would like to thank the lovely people at tylenol cold and sinus, the wonder that is the top bunk, trista and ryan, and the killer t cells of my immune system for my speedy recovery. i could not have done it without you.

..roughing up customer service reps like its my job and shielding my eyes before entering a room from this moment on,
lex

ps..yay for temperatures above -84758458475987 degrees..i saw grass today too, raus!

more things that make me feel pukey.

usually i'm not a big fan of pity parties. the lighting is bad, the food usually sucks (more on that later), and the atmosphere..well..people just seem like they'd rather be doing something..ANYTHING..else (sponge baths to the elderly come to mind for some reason..bygones). however..when your friends are the shit (aka don't smell and give you presents for no good reason other than the fact that they looooOOOOOve you unconditionally)..i say bring these parties on. to the remaining two-thirds of that crazy cult they call "triple A": you know how to cheer me up even when there is no misfortune of others in sight to cackle at..hearts! ps..you are both gayer than christmas.

i would also like to retract a statement from the previous entry that said oversized cards touted MAJOR vomit-potential. that is only true when there is no talk of my enviable abs and pantene pro-v commercial worthy strands or pictures of delicious boys in silk boxers. period.

so HOORAY for me..for i managed to escape v-day unscathed (maybe with an added 45874857094 calories or so and with a BONUS headcold *sniffle sniffle a-chooooOOO*..but who's counting?). quality time with mike weird-last-name over a seemingly endless box o' pizza and numerous cans of busch..oh sweet nectar of the gods (insert bitter beer face here). it's amazing how well two people can get along when their significant others are either in spain or invisible (guess which one is my love slave..shan't be too hard). at least moms sent me some yum-yum-yummy jelly bellys to suppress any and all urges to maintain a semi-normal eating routine. word to the (not-so) wise though: confusing cinnamon with very cherry is potentially lethal to your taste buds. rapid hand flapping and uncontrollable watering of the eyes will most likely ensue.

speaking of unpleasant tastes in my mouth..i'm so sick of uconn food. it's bad enough that you can actually see the laxatives stewing around in puddles atop most entrees, but the food itself (though supposedly prepared by professional culinary wizards, or as i realistically refer to as those who have passed "how to operate an ez-bake oven for dummies 101") is usually something that i wouldn't even subject my dog to eat (he's a ball of fur with principles and sophisticated tastes, after all). seriously..had i gotten sick last night, the thought of seeing the same slop i involuntarily consumed several hours earlier, arroz con pollo in reverse mind you, would have done some irreversible damage to my fragile psyche. aaaaaand scene.

..jonesing for some good chow and an economy-size box o' kleenex,
lex