Put a BIRD on it!

My mom is really into holiday decorations:

I'm really into this game on my iPod called Word Warp:

Yes. They do live.

-rae

Imma Git Chooooo!!!

In the midst of a Facebook discussion of proper comma usage, an interesting term came up:

"Serial Comma."

Other names are apparently "Oxford Comma" or "Harvard Comma," which sound significantly less menacing than...

serial comma.

SERIAL COMMA

When you finish your essay on the romantic elements in Wordsworth's poetry...

When you proof-read too many times for a grammatical error to somehow slip through your keen eye...

When you exasperatedly figure out that you did NOT have literature class this morning and are grudgingly sitting in the basement of the JFSB and are wondering what classroom the friends you walked here with might be in and you have nothing else to do so you read your essay again and suddenly you find such errors in your essay and of course you have plenty of time to fix it but it turns out you have no means to print it--

,

IT GETS YOU.

-rae

P.S. Yes, that last sentence was supposed to look like that. Thanks for catching it.

MISERABLE WRETCH! FOUL DAEMON!

I am currently sitting in my favorite study spot on campus.

There's a wide window where I can see the mountains right in front of me which only made this experience all the more... well, just read on.

This spot was a little more inhabited than usual, but I sat down anyway in the only available seat and resumed my reading of Frankenstein.

I am about to make what I have recently learned is called tangent:

I hated this book in high school. My tenth grade English teacher made me read it and he (along with what seems like every other English teacher) completely exhausted me of any appreciation I might have had for the book prior to his class.

The list of detested books also includes The Great Gatsby, My Antonia, and The Chosen, all of which are probably outstanding works.

Well... maybe not My Antonia.

To be honest, I didn't even finish Frankenstein the first time.

Anyways, the book just pops up on my reading list for British Literary History (the history about literature from Britain) and I curse this professor that I haven't even met yet.

Well, the first time I felt like an idiot was on the first day of class

BECAUSE

the teacher whom I thought must be terrible to assign the reading of such an abhorrent book turned out to be one of the most passionate and sincere and donut-providing teachers I've ever had.

But hold on, I'm shamed even further.

(Tangent ceased.)

I actually did finish reading Frankenstein the second time.

I didn't really realize what was happening until the kid next to me tapped me with the highlighter I must have let drop from my fingers.

I took it and then looked at him.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," he said and continued to look at me strangely for a few more seconds before asking, "are you okay?"

I blinked in confusion, and then felt something wet on my face.

No... I couldn't actually be crying-

Oh, for the love...

I turned my face away quickly and showed him the book.

"Ah," I heard him say in understanding. "'Nuff said."

That was the second time I felt like an idiot. And not necessarily because I was crying in front of someone, which was bad enough, but because it was this story, this once despised, disgusting monster (haha no pun intended) of a book that had made me cry.

"No creature had ever been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the history of man."

No, that's not how I felt.

It was just a good quote.

-rae

Poam in the Loam

My ears are ringing like a high-pitched dog whistle.

My eyelids are pulsing like cocoons in a thistle. (That's really gross...)

My head is pounding like beginner's percussion.

My mind's in turmoil, because I have a... uh...

um...

...

...

...

*snore*

-rae

I Cheated The Lion (I.C.T.L.-Idiotic Contraptions That LOSE)

Explanation of Title: 'I Cheated the Lion' is a self-invented band name if I were ever sufficiently rad enough to be in a band worthy of the name 'I Cheated the Lion.'

'I.C.T.L.' is the spontaneously-created acronym (from the self-invented band name) that embodies this post oh so well and is also what I tagged a few other posts with; do you remember the emergency paper towel dispenser? Or the misinforming instructions for throwing away trash? (Those were links. Click on them. WHEN YOU'RE DONE READING THIS ONE.)

Now, on to business.

There are very few things that makes sense to the average human.

There are even fewer things that make sense to me.

This example, however, makes sense to absolutely no one:

This may look like an average toilet paper dispenser, and it totally is.

But just look at it.

I mean, really look at it.

I don't know why I never considered it before...

It's locked up.

The toilet paper is locked-I just...ugh.

"I payed two whole dollars more for this two-ply-mega-ultra-downy-soft-bare-OR-bear-bottom-worthy toilet paper. I don't take the protection of public hygiene products lightly man... why are you shaking your head?!"

Toilet paper padlock, I present to you a well-earned *face palm.*

Though holding the camera still while laughing so hard at this overlooked issue was hard as it was, the real problem was trying to cover the noises of the camera taking pictures and loading up with that *ta-ling-a-la-ting!* sound.

Awkward presumptions, my friends.

-rae

P.S. Don't have noobish tendencies and tell me what the point of the lock is. I'd rather be entertained than enlightened. (In this case.)

P.S.S. (I know I always do this. I just don't want to interrupt the flow of the the post.) As careless and indifferent as I may seem (which I actually am most of the time) I really do enjoy reading your comments and having new readers/followers! Please spread the word! You know... if you like reading my blog...