Chocolate Malted Easter Eggs Are Good For You

I went to Ames, a local department store, and bought a lot of random shit to try and make myself feel better. Some things, like kleenex and cough drops, will probably help me. Other things, not so much.

I am currently wearing a pair of bunny ears I have dubbed The Magical Bunny Ears of Healing. They're sparkly.

Sick and Irrational

I'm sick! Sick sick sick. My head is a world of mucus. I was in denial of it for a long time, but I've been forced to admit that I'm on vacation in MucusLand. I was trying to pretend it was allergies for a while, but all the claratin in the world couldn't get rid of this shit.

(Mucus Fun Fact: If it's allergies, your mucus is clear! If you're sick, it's yellow/green!)

I spent all day in the computer lab, grading assignments for the Computer Architecture class. It's their first assignment, and they're learning about hex/binary/octal numbers, which meant that most of my day consisted of looking at two binary numbers to check if they were the same. And being sick. After grading around the fifteenth assignment, I pretty much wanted to kill myself. But I settled for being a huge bitch to everyone in the lab, instead.

When I finally gave up on grading, I had this clever plan to come home and make my roommates make me dinner and take care of me. However, both my roommates appear to be somewhere that is not here tonight, so my clever plan kind of sucks.

Since I'm a big pouty baby, I've come up with the following sick demands. If there was any sort of compassion or justice in the universe, I would get them, but I'm not holding my breath or anything.

Cyn's Sick Demands:

• Soup. I want soup. Preferably from some sort of Asian restuarant. And I want it delivered to my house!
• Toast with butter.
• Orange Juice.
• Tea with honey. We don't even have honey in my house. Because my life sucks.
• I want to lie on my couch with a blanket wrapped around me and have someone read me a story.
• Girly kisses. Because they cure cancer. And it's not like that's how I got in this whole mess or anything. Yeah. I'm definitely not going to be trading this disease back and for with the girl until we both eventually die.

I'm very frustrated with this sickness, because both the girl and my roommate Rachel were sick, and I put a lot of energy into fighting it and took lots of vitamin C and zinc and echinechea even though it tastes like dirt. And I totally thought I had escaped, too, because both the girl and Rachel were better. But no. I am doomed. And sick. And full of snot.

What A Freak

I think I've become that girl who raises her hand during class and says really wack shit, and then everyone just looks at each other and is like "Uh. Nut job."

Today in Classics we were discussing Freud, and the subconscious, and I was like "Well, I don't necessarily support the subconscious (Because you can't agree with Freud. Only dorks agree with Freud.), but I think if there was a subconscious, the Greeks would have a purer subconscious because they didn't believe in it. We don't write about killing our fathers and sleeping with our mothers because we're all 'Wait, subconscious!' but the Greeks didn't think about that stuff. We'd be just like them if Postmodernism hadn't ruined us."

Then the poor professor had to be like "Mmmm. Yes. Interesting theory."

I think it's kind of fun to be a nutjob in class. I know I'm as smart as all those kids, I might as well be more amusing.

Awwww Yeah, Baby

What Sex Toy Are You?

Important Questions

Why aren't cigarettes good for you? I mean, we can put a man on the moon, why can't we take the cancer out of cigarettes? Why is science working on this, instead of all those stupid studies you read about when they make it on blogdex? It has so many wonderful possibilities! Cigarettes with Vitamin C! After dinner cigarettes, with Tums! Cigarettes with birth control! (After all, everyone knows smoking is sexy.)

We have genetically altered food. The technology is there. I feel science should stop trying to make square tomatoes, or whatever they're doing with their time, and get on the Cigarettes With Out Death Project.

Rufus!

I went and saw Rufus Wainwright yesterday. (Warning: The flash on his website might make your eyes bleed.) He was excellent. It was like having a CD come to life. He was pouty and funny and silly and charming, just as one would expect from all those interviews. I used to listen to Rufus with my best friend in LA all the time. My clearest memory of it is of listening to "Cigarettes and Chocolate Bars," while driving down PCH, the sun clear and bright and warm like it is in LA all the time, dangling a cigarette out the window and laughing with Adam.

Which just goes to show you that I was indie rock before indie rock was cool.

But it was really amazing, seeing live someone I used to listen to on CD all the time in high school. And his voice is amazing. I don't even know how to describe it. It's just really strong and clear and beautiful.

Guerilla Cuteness

The girl and I, and also Emily and one of the girl's friends, went to an Obertone party on Friday. For those of you not in the know, the Obertones are an all male acapella group here at Oberlin. Also, my friend Ben is in them. Basically, they're a group of eight(?) hot straight boys who are harnessing their powers of homoeroticism for evil. The girl and I were too cute, all dancing together and making out. At one point I held her up, piggy-back style, so that she could see Ben sing above the crowd. Also, we made out in front of a lot of computer science boys. I'm not sure if this will help or hurt my reputation in the department. Then again, my reputation in the department is pretty much that I'm a drugged out dyke bitch, so it can't hurt it all that much.

Oh, also all the Obertones were wearing homemade shirts that had synonyms for drunk on them, and the girl and I convinced two of them to trade shirts with us. (Mine says "PICKLED".) Then we went around telling everyone we were Obertones.

We left to party hop at around one or so, and ran into a bunch of our friends who were also party hopping. We went to this art party where there were lots of people screaming, but we weren't so into that scene, so we all went to the girl's house and drank beer instead.

Unhealthy

Kind of depressed today. Haven't really eaten. Smoked lots of cigarettes instead.

There is hope for the future, though. I'm going party-hopping tonight, and hopefully the girl will be free and come with me. Because the best thing after a day of not eating is a night of drinking.

Day of CS!

My day:
11 - 12:15 - my super cool classics class. Yay! Classics!

12:15 - 1 - Computer Science Majors Committe meeting. Everyone rejects my t-shirt idea: "Wanna see my box?"

1 - 4 - In the lab, practicing Cryptology so that I don't suck anymore and can be a Top Secret Super Spy. I still suck, but slightly less.

4 - 5:30 - go to Computer Science lecture by visiting lecturer.

5:30 - 7 - go to dinner with visiting computer science lecturer.

7 - 7:30 - go to lab, write this.

7:30 - 8 - meet with visiting lecturer to get job interview advice

8 - don't know - Oberlin Linux Users Group Meeting.

I am more than just computer science! I have a life! I've just misplaced it somewhere.

Dreams

I had two dreams last night.

In the first one, I pierced my shoulder. I was like "I think I need another piercing," so I took a really big sharp earing and shoved it through my shoulder and then put an earing back on the other side. It had a pink sparkly gem in it. Then it got all nasty and infected, and I took it out.

In the second, I kidnapped Hello Kitty. I think I was actually saving her from something. Hello Kitty was a princess of some country, and there were all these Hello Kitty sculptures and dolls everywhere. I was running around holding Hello Kitty under my arm (she was wrapped up in my coat), and looking for somewhere safe to leave her.

Grouchy

I am OSCAR.
I'm a
wild and crazy guy!


Which Sesame Street Character Are You?

I remember Oscar being more cranky than wild, but whatever.

Now I'll Never Be A Top Secret Spy!

My classes sucked today.

First I went to AI, and one of my fellow students made a stupid math joke and then laughed about it for like, ten minutes. I'm sorry, but any joke that involves unifying a function is not funny. I don't care if it involves n going to infinity, it's not funny.

Then I went to Cryptology, and we were in the lab working on breaking this code, and by the end of the period everyone else had practically solved it, and I still hadn't figured out what letter e was. I suck at being a top secret super spy!!!! Suck! I suck so bad that the teacher took me aside after class and gave me a pep talk! I'm pep talk sucky!

I Hate Salt

I went skateboarding today, and there's salt all over the sidewalks and it makes everything all bumpy and nasty and I hate it.

They really need to make things more skateboard friendly in this world.

Twitterpated

I want to listen to the Magnetic Fields and doodle her initials all over my peechee folders.

Yay

The girl from the party came over tonight. (I need to think of something good to call her on the blog. But I can't right now.) We talked about meaningless things for a long time. Then we made out. On my stoop. Next to the bucket of vomit.

Things are good.

The Girls Can't Help It

Somewhere out there, two indie rock kids are catching up on each other's lives, and realizing that they are both powerless to resist the girls of Naked House.

Morning After

There's a bucket full of vomit on my stoop. I kind of like it, I feel it gives our house a more "college" feel than it previously had. And the beer can on the stairs doesn't hurt, either.

Cleaning this morning, I found the following items left at our house by party goers: A lone sock, a hat, an id, and a bra.

I think the party went well . . . It's all kind of a blur, but there were a lot of people here. At one point there was live oral sex in my living room, but I wasn't a part of that, thank god. I'm not sure I'm in favor of public sex at parties. It tends to make people kind of awkward. Also, perhaps the next time someone feels like getting their genitalia all over my furniture they could ask first. It's only polite.

I think the party moved to the landromat across the street at some point. I definitely remember spinning people in the driers and being pushed around in one of the carts.

I also spent a lot of time making out with a wicked cute girl. Who I happen to have a crush on. And that's nothing but good.

Too Much Coffee! Too Much Coffee!

Coffee too strong! Coffee to strong!

Must clean for party! Must clean for party!

(bounce bounce bounce)

I don't remember taking speed!

Why Cyn Hates Valentine's Day an Extra Special Lot

Hey kids, let's jump in the way-back machine and travel to my junior year of high school! The year was 1997, and I was dating a girl named Kristi, who, for reasons that are now unclear, I was totally fucking in love with. Unfortunately for me, she was also dating a number of other people. (Quintessential relationship moment: "I'm not afraid of commitment, I just haven't found anyone I'm willing to commit to yet," quoth she to one of her friends, while on a date with me. Class-ay!)

So, it's the week before Valentine's Day. She's been fluctuating back and forth between me and this guy, Mike, for about a month now, pulling the good old "Oh, I have to pick one of you, I just don't know what to do, oh woe is me!" mindfuck on both of us.

So, finally, she decides to date Mike and not me. She calls me and informs me of this decision, and much crying and wailing ensues. After I point out some salient details, like the fact that Mike happens to be completely delusional and lives in his own little fantasy world, plus he's an asshole, she reverses her decision and decides to dump Mike and date me. Some I'm all happy and cute and in love. Until the day before Valentine's Day, when she dumps me and starts dating Mike again.

However, she does give a Valentine she made for me. It features a rabbit jumping into a hole, and inside it says "Going Down?"

Next stop for the way-back machine: Senior year of high school. It's 1998, and I'm dating a girl named Kristy (<- note the y, rather than i.). She's a cute little Catholic girl who somehow can't manage to lie to her parents, so most of our relationship consists of running around holding hands and staring longingly at each other, while telling everyone that we're not actually dating. We just happen to be glued together, that's all. We also both talked about how much we cared about each other . . . to our friend Jeffie.

Anyway, the day before Valentine's Day, she tells me she's ending our non-relationship because she has a crush on some random guy. I, being 18 and stupid, just say "Do what makes you happy," and walk away. The guy turns out to be a total slut, but that is neither here nor there.

So that's my Valentine's Day story. Getting dumped the day before by chicks who "just can't handle dating a girl" so they can get some dick two years in a row will sour you on a holiday.

Happy Valentine's Day

Come live with me and be my love
and we will all the pleasures prove
that hill or valley, dale or field
woods or steepy mountains yield.

And we will sit upon the rocks
seeing the shepards feed their flocks
by shallow river, to whose falls
melodious birds sing mardigals

Hope this VD doesn't leave you with an itching, burning sensation, baby.

Dorothy Parker

I'm trying to write this story that's very much based on a period of time in my life. A depressing period of time in my life. And I'm trying to make it funny, to avoid it being all bad and melodramatic and fourteen-year-old angst poetry-esque. And I know that I said really, really funny things when it was happening. But I can't remember any of them right now.

Emily said that I should try to go back and relive that period of my life and try to feel those emotions, and maybe it'll help me get the funny back. I told her that that's why writers are alcoholics.

It's not going very well. In fact, right now the "plot" hinges a lot on the personification of an emotion. Who is named Darryl. That's funny, right? Darryl's a funny name.

Also, it's due on Monday.

You Know What I Miss?

Doing prime factorization. I always really liked doing it, for some reason. I guess I could just come up with the prime factors of numbers for no reason, but it's not as good if you're not assigned to do it.

Also, sex. I miss sex.

Oh, What a Good Girl Am I!

Today I did my laundry, and I cleaned, and I read for my classics class, and I graded papers, and I put up a calendar and attempted to schedule my life. (I have a palm pilot, but if I don't have what I'm doing right in front of me, I'll never check what I have to do.)

And I got tickets to Rufus Wainwright on the 23rd. Aren't you jealous?

And I stayed up until two in the morning talking to my upstairs neighbor even though I have class at nine tomorrow. But who needs sleep when they have an upstairs neighbor who can talk charmingly about philosophy and grammar and the fashion mistakes of the 80s? Surely, no one can resist that.

Of Course!

Which David Bowie are you?

I will stop procrastinating and do my homework soon! I will, I will, I will!

I Love This Band

Me First and the Gimme Gimmes are a punk cover band. They have three albums, one of which is songs from the fifties, one songs from the 60s and 70s, and one show tunes. Quite frankly, if you do not completely love a punk cover of My Boyfriend's Back, then I'm not sure that I want to be your friend. I just got the show tunes album, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Are a Drag, and it is living up to my expectations quite nicely. They do a kickin' rendition of "Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music. Plus, they're all in drag on the cover, and I find the picture of which ever one of them is in the blonde wig with the cigar in his mouth strangely attractive. Punks and drag queens! These are a few of my favorite things!

Fried

I redyed my hair on Saturday. It's now lovely shade of dark pink, but unfortunately it's texture can only be described as "crispy". (Stupid punky colors bleach.) Oh, well, one must suffer for beauty. Especially if one happens to be my scalp.

Kiss Tabs and Fuck Tabs

I'm trying to restart this thing I did in Junior High. You know those tabs on the top of beer and soda cans? Well, if you can get that tab off with the little circle intact, that's a kiss tab. If you get it off with the little button that holds it to the can still there, it's a fuck tab. In an ideal world, these would be redeemable for a kiss and a fuck, respectively. If you get it off with a big ol' hunk of the can on it, it's the source of all sorts of risque humor.

My theory is that these can probably be worked into some sort of flirting technique, especially kiss tabs. (Some drunkeness probably helps, as well.) Unfortunately, I've only got fuck tabs, because I've been working with cheap ass Miller High Life cans. So, spread the meme! Make 'em, redeem 'em, spread a little love through this cold, harsh world.

Ben's Story

Ben Says:
So I woke up Saturday morning on a strange couch with a terrible hangover. Then I realized that I was wearing women's underwear and pants. Fortunately my jeans and boxers were lying on the floor next to me, otherwise I never would have found them. Also, my shirt was terribly burnt and had safety pins holding it back together. When I went to look at myself in the mirror, I realized that I had on eye make-up and black nail polish. Through one of the holes in the shirt, I could see the tab from a beer can hanging from one of my nipple rings.

Of course, it was our couch. He was wearing my pants and underwear because we had decided to switch clothes (and I thoughtfully left his by the couch). His shirt was burnt because Emily decided it was too offensive and put it in the oven, where we all forgot about it until the house filled with smoke and we had to open up with windows. The beer tab was a kiss tab.

Fortunately, he passed out before we started snorting codiene.

Re-injury

So, you know the knee I fuct up snowboarding that is still not all the way healed and will probably be a puffy and gross forever? Yeah, I just fuct it up skateboarding.

I was trying to skateboard to the classroom building so I could meet with my Creative Writing professor. The sidewalks on my street are totally fuct up, but my street also happens to be a major freeway because Ohio is retarded like that. So up till now I haven't skateboarded on the street because I'm convinced I'll be squooshed to death by a big truck. Today I decided, damn the trucks, I'm skateboarding in the street like god intended!

I got about half a block before I tripped over my pants or something and landed on my face. However, my face was fine. It was my previously almost normal looking right knee that was the most injured, and is now swollen and purple again. I skateboarded the rest of the way to my meeting on the sidewalk, and then took side streets back. (No, I didn't stop skateboarding just because I couldn't bend my knee anymore. What do you think I am? A pussy?) I came home and put some frozen broccoli on it, but it still looks pretty bad.

An Imaginary Lover's Quarrel between Michel Foucalt and Roland Barthes

Barthes: Come on, please, Michel?
Foucalt: But don't you see if I do that, then I'm just socially constructing power over you?
Barthes: But you'd be taking me to the place between civilization and it's construction.
Foucalt: The destruction of civilization doesn't matter. History is leading nowhere.
Barthes: It's always about work with you, isn't it? This is about my work! I get my best ideas when I'm with someone who gives me pleasure, and I'm thinking about other things.
Foucalt: Oh, so that's it! You've been thinking about Marx this entire time, haven't you?

Why Cunt Rocks

I think the word cunt is great. Because when you're a chick and you say something like "Man, all the chicks in my women's studies class are dumb cunts," no one knows what to do. Boys can't be offended, cause you have a cunt and they don't. But they're never sure if it's okay to laugh or not. And when you say "Eat my cunt," everyone knows that they better do it.

Just because I use a word for my genitalia doesn't mean I can't use it as an insult. When was the last time a boy got mad cause you called someone a dick? They're never like "Uh, I'm offended cause you called that guy a penishead, and I think that trivializes my genitalia and you really shouldn't use that word like that." The word cunt is almost as strong and rad as my cunt is, but not quite.

Lately I've also been using the phrase "Why? Does it make your pussy hurt?", as in "You're offended by my calling people dumb cunts? Why? Does it make your fucking pussy hurt?" when talking to boys, but you probably shouldn't emulate that.

Genius

"People say that kissing a raver is like licking an entire sheet of LSD while sitting in a Honda Civic full of Nitrous. It's great. You should try it sometime. I mean, DON'T. Raves are bad, mmmkay?"

As a former raver, I can tell you that this is some funny shit.

Ahem

Overdrawn No More!

Well, I finally have some actual money in my account, allowing me to go out and spend $76 on classics books. This whole debacle appears to have cost me around $200.

This afternoon I'm going to try to sell back some textbooks. Then I'm going to look into selling my hemoglobin. I hear that can be profitable.

You Know You Need A Cigarette

When you realize you're chewing on the pen for your Wacom tablet in an attempt to satisfy your oral fixation.

Electronics and my mouth do not mix! Not that anything bad happened, but I feel in the future I should remember that this is a bad idea.

Winter Wonderland

Last night, Em and I sacrificed brandy to the Snow Goddess and did a snow dance, and today the world is white. We may be atheists, but we still perform one hell of a pagan ceremony.

RoboSuck

I attempted to RoboTrip last night. I say attempted because while I did trip a little bit, I spent more time being sick and miserable. Everyone's telling me it's just the cough syrup, but while I did puke, things got much worse after I puked. I spent a lot of time being hot and cold at the same time and my stomach hurt a lot. Also, reality went away completely every time I closed my eyes. And I couldn't handle wearing pants. Finally I crawled into bed and whimpered and cursed my sorry fate for about an hour and a half. When I finally felt better, I also felt pretty sober.

I think my body chemistry just didn't like the dex. Which is sad, but not too sad, because my body could have chosen not to like, say, ecstacy, and that would suck much, much more. Em seemed to have a pretty good time, though.

Then, just as we were figuring out what to do with the rest of our night (we were both done "tripping" around 9), it turned out that our upstairs neighbors were having a party, so we went upstairs and drank forties and had a good time.

The Noise Only Dolphins Can Hear

Emily, this is for you.

Yummy!

Dr. McGillicudy's Vanilla Schnapps rock my world. I'm having them in Diet Coke right now and it tastes just like a Vanilla Coke. I also recommend his Peppermint Schnapps, though probably not in coke.

I sucessfully avoided work all day today. However, I did bedazzle the word "hardcore" across an old Academic Decathlon shirt. Gotta share my punk geek pride.