It's Friday. Woo! It's my first Friday in college. Double woo! And there's, like, a rule, that the very last class you have on Friday afternoon has to make you absolutely homicidal if it doesn't bore you to sleep first.
There are three kinds of Friday people. The first kind know it's Friday and don't care. It could be Wednesday or Thursday as far as they're concerned. The second kind know it's Friday and they want it to be over just as much as you do. They're all, "You obviously don�t care about anything I'm going to say, and I really don�t either, so why don't you just go?" I love those people.
The third type of Friday person makes me cry deep, deep inside. These are the people who know it�s Friday and know that students' attention spans are very short and that their brains could turn to mush at any second. The solution these people choose is teaching down to the students. I got forty-six minutes on the scientific method this afternoon, which is exactly as boring as it sounds. It wasn't even a lecture so much as an oral presentation of a handout, because apparently I'm not in college. No, this is eighth grade. Great.
It is also officially too hot and humid to go anywhere or do anything. Granted, it's only around 90 degrees, but it's sticky like a bun (see what I just did there?) and there are lots and lots of hills to walk up. Something should be done about this, and while we're working on that, something should be done about the euphemistically termed 'ventilation' 'system' in our hall. Sometimes it's cold, sometimes it's hot, and sometimes it's just plain stale. There's no predicting a pattern, either. It blows (or not) whimsically through the hall, freezing me at 2 AM and baking me nine hours later. I guess I shouldn't bitch. At least I have something in the air conditioning department, unlike poor, poor Rachel, who is suffering alone in sweaty silence.
Not that there�s anything to do here in University Town anyway. It turns out everyone goes home on the weekends or goes to Mississippi to gamble, which would be a fun time if I had money to throw away like that (although I'd want to do it right and go to Vegas for my first time). I'm going to be sagging lazily about my dorm this weekend, watching the Home Shopping Network and alphabetizing CDs. What a glamorous life I lead. I might get so bored that I'm forced to find a job.
It's not fair, really, that I had to move away to college just as Daphne G & I were getting the hang of the weekend party scene. You, too, can get smashed (or, if you prefer, trashed), hit the clubs, destroy the evidence and make it home in time for your family to drag you along with them to church. It just takes a little bit of creativity.
I suppose I could read a book. The University Town Public Library has some really neat stacks that have gone unexplored during this hectic move-in week. Maybe I'll make it a good, old-fashioned weekend of chilling at the library with a whole pile of periodicals. I think it's time for me to start reading The New Yorker. And I've been trying to hunt down a copy of the latest Mary Higgins Clark novel (no, not the one about George Washington, the other one, the one about the nursing homes. Shut up). The library also has DVDs for my enjoyment. Unfortunately (and unrealistically), DVD checkouts are two days each. I don�t have time to schlep to the library every two days to return a movie. A WEEK, people. That�s how long, minimum, you need to watch a movie these days. The libraries should get hip to this and make my life easier.
So as soon as I get kicked out of the library for starting a small riot, I suppose I can check out the local malls, strip and otherwise. I'm sure I'll find some interesting little places to hang out. Consequently, I heard on the news last night that the malls have a new 6 PM weekend curfew for people under sixteen. This is the kind of thing that would�ve outraged me at sixteen, but two years later I can hear something like that and chuckle heartily. God, listen to me. 'Chuckle heartily'? I am such a big dork.
Someone got here by searching for: Peter Paul Buglione And: countless variations of "chip and reichen breakup," so I should just tell you that, as far as I've heard, they were still happily together as of TARCon last night. So who won The Amazing Race last night? I know! How cool was that? Chip and Reichen pulled it out in the final leg. Good job, boys, but next time you might want to lay off the editorializing. Reading: I'd tell you, but it's a really boring college textbook, so let's just gloss over this for now. Listening to: Barenaked Ladies' greatest hits CD. Watching: The Jeopardy Teen Tournament finale.
