There are too many stories to share in this post, but I really wanted to let you in on the amazing-ness that is my suitemate B. B is what I'm going to call her, but if you know me from scho0l (like anyone EVER reads this) than I guess you know who I'm talking about and you can damn me to hell later, I'm too tired right now.
Sometimes I wonder how B ever got into college. But thenI remember that I go to Huntington. It took me a total of five minutes to fill out my application. I think they would accept my black lab Madeline if they thought she could fit the tuition bill. There really are a lot of idiots that go here.
The first week of school, I realized that B is one of those people who talks as a rule. You know, a small talker. I just don't really enjoy small talk. Forced interaction makes me uncomfortable. Now I'm going to get a little logical with you right now. If the average college student attends the exact same classes on Mon., Wed. and Fri., and another set of classes on Tues. and Thurs., it is quite sensible to assume that a student going to an 8 a.m. class on Mon. is going to that same 8 a.m. class on Wed. You would think... but no, I got asked, "What class do you have this morning?" every day. EVERY DAY for an ENTIRE semester. If I was a morning person, this would not have been a problem, but I'm pretty much the equivalent of a 80 year-old man when I first roll out of bed--contankerous.
Then there's the story of the mousse, the hermit crabs and the Jew. Actually, these are three different stories, but it kind of sounds like a good joke. Too bad this isn't funny, because B is so dumb.
The first week of school, I was doing my hair. Because in that first week you get up in the morning and do your hair, I'm not sure why. But I guess that day I was wearing my hair curly, which means that I put a gallon of product in my hair. B seems pretty interesting in what I'm doing. I look at her and smile a little uncomfortably, and then she begins telling me about the bottle of Dove mousse that she bought. B had never bought mousse before, I guess she just got a hankering to have sticky hair, because that is the only result I ever seem to get when i use it. Anyway, B start relating to me how her mousse only comes out as soupy liquid when she presses the bottle, when in fact she would like it to come out as actual mousse. Now, though I was screaming "YOU ARE SUCH A FREAKING IDIOT!" in my head, I just calmly looked at her and said, "Well, I think the directions on the bottle say to shake it up." Now, the story wouldn't be that good if that is all it was, if she had taken my advice and shook the bottle up. But no, she just put the bottle down and the next morning I heard her complaing to my roomie about the same problem. From then all, during the first month of classes, I snuck into the bathroom and shook up B's bottle of mousse, simply to avoid the inevitable conversation and questioning...
And now the hermit crabs... B's roommate AG received a gift from her boyfriend that consisted of two hermit crabs from Florida. AG got them, and called me into her room to see them. A little while later, I was sitting in my room watching the Gilmore Girls (I don't remember exactly what I was watching, this is just a pretty good guess) when B came in to tell me about the hermit crabs. Since then, they have been the subject of about 100 conversations between me and B. And I promise that I was not the one initiating the crab talk. In fact, with B, its usually always a one-sided conversation. She talks, or drones, and you half listen and nod. Then, last night, she called me into her room again (every time I have to pee, I get pulled in there--I should quit liquids for awhile) and yesterday she was a little frantic. Something smelled in her room, she said, and she wanted me to sniff around and see if one of the crabs were dead. Come to find out, the crabs were alive, and the smell was coming from dirty dishes. *sigh* is the year almost over yet?
And now... my favorite B story. This is not a first-hand account. It was related to me by my roomie, God bless her. Of course, Skeyse was in the bathroom and B pounced on her for some conversation. I'm not quite sure what B was talking about but the conversation led her to talk about high school. "I'm not even sure if my parents knew this," B said gravely. At this point, I'm sure Skeyse was scared to death of what was going to be coming out of this girl's mouth. But she never could have guessed what was coming. "I'm not even sure if my parents knew this, but my principal was a Jew." Yes, she said it like she didn't think God's chosen people could function at that level of education, that all Jews are like the one's from "The Fiddler on the Roof." She's not hateful or racist or anything, she's just ignorant. In the funniest way there is to be ignorant.
I'm only feeling slightly mean for this post. Mostly though, it makes me smile. haha.
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