It’s never a good sign when your response to a math problem is “This problem violates the laws of physics.”
It’s mildly reassuring your classmates agree.
Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away.
Ah, feeling another of those “So grateful I went to Hockaday” moments, as I needed to look up some random Physics equation for my Math class, and there it was, on the Hockaday Physics Website. I don’t have to scavenge my hall for a textbook or the internet for a list of equations!
And aww, look at what else I found! I’m so proud of my girls! 5th place, booyeah!
My hall is so nice sometimes. Chris is testing out the whole “Mozart for the Mind” theory, so he downloaded a bunch of Mozart and Beethoven and awesome classical music, and he’s playing it in the common area as we all study. And my room is right next to the common area, so Rachel and I are seranaded with lovely music. Currently, Beethoven’s 9th. Keen.
Mmm, mini-buns, mini-buns… turn my buns to maxi-buns…
Taste so lovely, taste so keen… give in to the Frosh fifteen…
Carmen’s evil, Carmen’s cruel… makes me fat so she can rule…
Mmmmmmmmmmini-buns.
Mon and Faith are evil, evil people for getting me hooked on Firefly. Evil, I say.
<3 Simon
Found this note pinned to a suddenly prominent layer of striated muscle tissue. I fear this bodes ill.
Dear Priscilla,
I’ve always been good to you, all things considered. Remember when you were four and you tripped and split your lower lip open on the edge of a glass table and you had to have plastic surgery and the doctors thought you would probably have a scar? Even though I usually scar easily, I pulled through for you, baby, and now no one would guess. I got you through the majority of your teenage years without major acne troubles. I don’t sunburn easily, saving you some potential pain there. I do my job: I keep your internal organs in check, I keep your body temperature regulated (and without unsightly sweat stains), and I grant you the blessing of the sense of touch.
All this and more! What did I ever ask of you? Nothing. Hear that? Nothing. And what do you do to me? You abuse me, you doodle on me in pen, you stifle and suffocate me with nasty pancake makeup for all those theatre productions of yours. But hey, I could tolerate that. I’m designed to take a little abuse. But this? No, no, this time you’ve gone too far.
Blue liquid latex body paint. What were you THINKING, woman?
Here I am, doing my best to keep you looking sooooo good, and you decide you want to slather me in nasty, sticky, artificial GOOP just so you can look cool for a few hours. Whatever happened to all those Halloween costumes you used to wear, huh? Angua? A jedi? Special Agent Fox Mulder? There are plenty of costumes out there that don’t require being blue, you know. Do a sistah a favor next time and think of your poor, neglected, overworked skin before you go off painting yourself weird colors, kapeesh?
Now, I’m doing this for your own good. I’m taking a brief holiday to get some R&R, maybe some therapy, maybe take a little time off to regrow some of those eyebrows. Maybe, by the time I come back, you’ll have a proper respect for the largest organ of your body.
Dermally yours,
Your Skin
New Halloween costume: Kurt acquires an image inducer. My skin hates me.
Dinner time. Wah. Cannot chew without destroying makeup. Gah, too late. Attempts at surgery futile. Ah well. It was crazy fun while it lasted!
Already astronomical respect for Alan and Rebecca Romijn-Stamos has increased ten thousand-fold.
Dude, my city rocks.
More costume pics posted in my Livejournal!