Aha! Comments! Yay!!!!!!!
Aside from Indian lunch buffet at Tandoori (is that the name? or Tandoor, or whatever, does it matter? it's hella good food) out in 'Stallis, as well as Best Buy, and of course, installing new headlights on the Astro with Joe, nothing has been accomplished since then...oh well. I now own Dead Poets Society on DVD, which has to be one of the greatest movies of all time, with the most powerful and goosebump-provoking final scenes in a movie ever. It makes me want to cry every single damn time. *tear*
Break is winding down, tomorrow is my final day at home!! Saaaaaaaaaad. But then again, not so sad, either.
This whole reminiscent blog thing has worked out perfectly, with me being a slacker and taking time off from the blog, I now have two more things to post and two more days at home! What a coincidence! Today, we shall take the blog back to feature Paul. Paul spent his freshman year out in New York, but we'll forgive him. Paul also managed to keep me entertained with his commentary on just about everything in all the emails he sent, which showed up on my computer. If only I had access to my ICQ, then we could see some of the ICQ conversations that Paul & I had (especially those after, er, Mardi Gras, when I was, um, tired. Yes. Very, very tired. And stoned. And drunk. It was a good night. LoL).

Laurendog-
There, I just decided if I can automatically be cool if I just add dog to the end of anyone's name when addressing them. When I first moved to the 'Wood, I thought all the white guys talking in ebonics to each other were joking. Then I found out that almost everyone talks that way there. It was kind of funny. It took awhile for me to not burst out laughing when some white guy like Drew O'Malley called me dog. For him it's even funnier, because he's Irish (I assumed this using the skills I've honed in Logic class (PHY 205); O'Malley = Irish.).

Speaking of that freaky girl phenomenon, the freakiest thing happened to me the other day. I was playing chess online, because I was very bored. I started playing some woman that said she was from New York. I didn't ask, but she told me anyway, along with plenty of other info I didn't particularly care to know, like that she strips for a living, and that she's 38 (ewwwwwwwwww!, those two don't mix well. It's like adding acid to water or something bad like that). She had asked where I was from, and I told her New York State as well (what, you didn't expect me to tell her the truth did you? Plus, that's not completely false, I do kind of live here now.). Then she said she could come give me and my friends a strip show if I told her where to go. By this time, I was completely grossed out, but not wanting to be rude, I told her "No, I wouldn't be comfortable with that." So then she asked what's the matter, are you gay? At this point, I just wanted to shut her up, so I said yes. Not another peep out of her, thank god. Luckily, I'm a much better chess player than her, so I beat her in under two minutes, and left. Never again. I will never use the internet again, except for e-mail of course. Too many freaky people out there. Another kind of female to add to the list of females that I'm apparently a magnet to: scary, near-40-year-old strippers. Hooray for me!

A friend from Iowa telling you you drink excessively? You can't really tell him to go to hell; after all, he is from Iowa, the closest place to hell on this earth. Just tell him (or her) to go shuck some corn or something. Slipknot is from Iowa. You know that really freaky band that wears the scary masks and plays really crappy, angry music that somehow made it's way to number 3 or something in the billboard charts. I think the reason they're so mad is because they're from Iowa. It doesn't seem like a real happy place. They've got corn, and then they have some more corn, and ... uh... oh yeah, they have a semi-pro baseball league there that one of my friends plays in. Other than that, not too much. At least in Wyoming we had mountains. And we have Jackson Hole (vacation spot/home of the Clintons and Harrison Ford). We have skiing too. Can't do that in Iowa can ya! Ha ha ha.

I think the taste thing is a male/female issue. Most guys can't tell (or don't care) how good the beer is they're drinking, just as long as it does it's job. My psych teacher told this joke in lecture today, he was talking about cognitive processes (thinking). God gave men 2 organs, but not enough blood for both to function at once. If you don't get it, one of the organs is the brain. For the other, well...just use your imagination.

Does your roommate, the one who locks her door, think you're going to steal something from her room or what? That's weird. I can see why her roommate would move out. Where is this girl from. Was she locked in a small windowless room and given only a bible for entertainment? Who the hell thinks frigging is profanity? It sounds like your roommate is my Mom in an 18 year old's body. The door locking thing has been a problem for me too. Once, I got in the shower when Tom was still in bed, and when I was done, he had left and locked me out. I had to go find him so I could get some pants and a shirt out of my room (I only had shorts, my towel, shampoo and soap, and some flip-flops). Luckily, he only went outside to smoke, so I found him fairly quickly.

You know what I just realized? Lauren G. rhymes with Warren G., the rapper. That can be your alias. That or G-dog or something. Sweet.

What's up with your roommate taking the TV away. Now that's even weirder than her locking the door, I think. She just decided that she wanted the TV in her room? Strange. If you ask me, she's into porn and that's why she needs the TV in her room. She wants it so she can watch her immense and varied collection of porn in private. Just kidding, but maybe she does have a wild side and you just don't know it. Who shares the room with her now, (or does she just have it all to herself)? Also, URINATE? Was she serious? This girl definitely was locked in closet, not a small room. What do her parents do? Are they extremely religious or something? That's crazy. Crazy crazy crazy.

Missing French! What did Calah say!?!?! I can picture it. You're so bad! It starts out with missing one class. You get an adrenaline rush. Then you'll skip other classes. Then you'll not go to class at all. Then you'll drop out and start working the streets, selling your drugs and sleeping in a cardboard box. It all begins with one class Lauren. It only takes one. I could picture her giving you a lecture. Shame on you Lauren. Shame on you. I once overslept, but I made it to class. I just didn't shower and didn't eat. I just brushed my teeth, threw some clothes on, (and some deoderant) and ran to class. It was only Logic though. That class is "wicked hack". As the Boston people say here. Hack means easy to them, and then they just add wicked to everything to increase it's intensity.

Well, that's all I've got for now. Don't miss more classes. The path to destruction can start with one...it only takes one. Anywho, keep it real Lauren G. Later G-Dog.

~Paul (Master P)


And some more Paul-eseque humor.

I had an interesting past Friday. First, I found out I got a 94 on my psych test. The highest grade was a 95, out of a class of 800. So, I was pretty happy with that. Then, at dinner this weird girl came up, sat next to me, and started telling me her life story. It was really strange. She was drinking some of the non-lactaid milk they have in our dining hall, which I think might have some of the same side effects of crack, judging by some of the crazy shit she was telling me. I'd never seen her before in my life, and she told me that she "used to not have a favorite movie, but now it's like Good Will Hunting,
because she's watched that like 50 times and..." (you get the picture). I shit you not. It was strange. I think I'm just a freaky girl magnet, along with adolescent girl magnet. All the freaky girls and 12 year olds think I'm da bomb. Woo woo. Proof? I recently found out that my roommate's sister, who is 15, thinks I'm hot. That was a bit disheartening. I'm sad...very sad (j/k). Then, to add to the strangeness of my evening, some drunk girls, who were drinking in one of the rooms on my floor, tried to grope me. This was just
after they did some serious projectile vomiting in not one, not two, but all three of our floor toilet stalls. It's a good thing I can hit the outside jumper when it comes to using toilets, if you know what I mean (this was one time I'm glad I'm not female). Anyhow, I've decided that I now have a new policy on alcohol: drinking is fine, even getting drunk is alright; puking and unwanted groping is bad. Drunks are fine. Stupid drunks who can't control their alcohol are bad. By the way, my sister thinks I'm horrible now that she
found out that I've drunk alcohol before too. It was alright to suggest that I go try, but not alright when she found out I had already tried it. I haven't had enough experience with alcohol to be able to discriminate between good and bad alcohol though. But then again, I can't tell the difference between coke and pepsi either.

- posted by L. @ 8:54 PM