Pink Babies

I realized the identity of Smelly Guy today. I was just sitting in class and he walked past me to his seat and his stench just hit me like a wall. And the grossest part is, he doesn't even sit directly beside me. He sits like three seats away from me. Gross. I feel bad about the poor people sitting beside him.

On a totally different note, I've decided to describe how awesomely literal I was as a small child. My practicality was showcased by my names for my dog, blanket, and stuffed animals.

I got my dog when I was one or two years old. She was a black labrador retriever, and I LOVED her. I played with her and played with her, and oh! the joy that was my dog. So what is a perfectly creative and intelligent little child to name her beloved dog? Girl. Yes, my dog's name was Girl. She was a girl, so no other name made more sense. Girl has since gone away to Puppy Dog Heaven, but she will always be remembered.

My childhood blanket was absolutely perfect. It was yellow and square, and not too big and not too little. It was perfect for holding at night when I went to sleep when I was a little girl. And, you know, um, well, maybe when I was like, uh, um, well eighteen years old, too. But anyways, what's a girl to call her beloved blanket? Yellow Blanket. Duh. It was a blanket, and it was yellow. It makes sense, okay.

So I think you might be catching onto the idea. Well, I'm about to throw you for a loop!

Not really.

I had three more stuffed animals that may or may not still reside in my room at my parents' house: Hard-face Pink Baby, Mushy-face Pink Baby, and Pink Bear. Guess what color they are! If you guessed pink, then you're a genius.

Hard-face Pink Baby and Mushy-face Pink Baby were once both the same. They had soft stuffed bodies and a soft stuffed head, but their faces were like a soft rubbery-plastic material. One day, my family went on vacation to somewhere. As we got out of our car at the hotel, I unknowingly dropped one of my pink babies onto the parking lot and walked off without it. That was one of the most traumatic nights of my young childhood. When I was a little girl I loved my pink babies more than I loved my life, I think.

Well, my parents were about sick of hearing me sob about my lost pink baby, so gave a last-ditch effort to rescue their precious baby's babydoll. They went to the front desk of the hotel, and that perfect lady at the desk told them she had found it the night before and took it home to her daughter or granddaughter (I can't remember which one, and at the time I did not care one bit. No one was gonna take my pink baby). Anyway, that blessed saint returned my doll to me the next day.

But the doll had been run over in the parking lot, and had tire treadmarks on her. And her face was mushy. Thus, the difference between Hard-face Pink Baby and Mushy-face Pink Baby. I secretly loved Mushy-face more than Hard-face, but I would have never told Hard-face that.

I also had Pink Bear, who may or may not have come to college with me my freshman year. But even though it may or may not have lived in my dorm room freshman year, it is important to remember that it was only freshman year. Just clarifying.

Smelly Guy

In one of my classes there is a guy who stinks. I mean, he is smelly. And I can't figure out who it is, because the stench seems to hit me from all directions. It could be a girl, I suppose. But there's mostly guys who sit around me in this class, which is why I think it's a guy. So I wrote a poem especially for him:

Hey Smelly Guy, who sits next to me in class

Your total stench makes me need a gas mask

I understand that you smoke, and that's okay

But maybe you should cut back from 20,000 cigarettes a day

I'm not asking you to smell like delightful flowers

I just wish you would take showers

Because my nose is not but a few feet from your disgusting body

And trust me, no girl's gonna think you're a hottie

As long as you smell like rotten beans

Please, oh please, get clean

My speech anatomy test got moved to next Tuesday, which is a great! My week just got ten billion times better when I found that out! Since my paper and language acquisition became deleted off of my to-do list yesterday, I have slept approximately ten much-needed hours.And I did laundry. Bonus points to Carolyn for productivity!

When reviewing my former posts, I realized that I have used excessive punctuation. I always feel the need to use excessive punctuation when relating things on this blog. However, when I go back to review it I feel like it looks a little ridiculous.

As though I talk like this: "OH. MY. WORD. UR LIKE SOOOOO CRAZYYYYYYY!!!!!1!!!1!!! LIKE WHY WONT U TALK TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!?!?!???!!???"

Which I don't (unless provoked).

Here is a pretty picture:

I HAVE RECENTLY EXPERIENCED A FEW PROBLEMS

Let me just relate to you the problems I have experienced.

It all started last week on Tuesday. I was required to write a short paper for my Critical Theory of Literature class. So I write one on Plato and turn it in, because that is what I thought my syllabus told me to do. It turns out that I was quite wrong. My synopsis was supposed to be on Aristotle, which I realized much too late. And when I got my paper back, it was practically screaming at me, "CAROLYN, THIS IS EMBARRASSING! I AM ASHAMED TO BE YOUR PAPER!!"

However, my professor was very kind and allowed me to rewrite the paper and still get a grade on it, even though points would be deducted from its grade for being late. I probably would have rewritten it anyway and turned it in, even if it didn't count for a grade, because I don't want to look like the class idiot. It was only a page or so, and not worth very much of my grade.

Anyway, the point of the matter is that he allowed me to rewrite the dang synopsis and email it ASAP. So on Wednesday, I wake up and write this synopsis prior to going to class. However, I don't have time to proofread it, and I decide I will just do that later. So I go to school, I see some friends, I have some fun, and then later that night I start proofreading the paper and when I get ready to email it, MY COMPUTER DECIDES THAT WORKING PROPERLY IS STUPID.

After some tears and frustrations, I do get my paper turned in, and after like a week of not having a computer, it finally returns to me. I didn't know what to do with my spare time without my computer. What is a 20 year old to do?? Color? Play card games? Rescue hundreds of puppies and kittens from shelters, like I have the money for that??? I swear I am not an animal hoarder.

Anyway, those are not real problems. They were embarrassing and annoying, however.

On a happier note, my tests for this week are over. On a less happy note, I have two tests and a paper due next week.