cats and dogs.

Girls hug because we like that sense of comfort and security. According to Ryan, boys hug because “we like the way your boobs feel on our chests, like soft, squishy clouds.”

Male bloggers please confirm or deny this sentiment.

Dick.

One of the nicest things Ryan has ever done was invite me to Bonnaroo this summer. A friend of his family’s offered him a few tickets and he immediately asked if I wanted to go. Of course, I said yes. Alcohol, drugs, and mud? I definitely wouldn’t have missed it.

This was months ago. He knows I’m shamelessly excited about it, but I should’ve known that it’d all go to shit. Long, dumb, story short he saw his ex-girlfriend over spring break and now he’s not sure if he should give the ticket to me or her.

If his roommates weren’t standing just outside the door I would have exploded. I stormed out instead and because I’m currently riding the red wave, I cried like a little girl in my room. In true movie fashion, my friends came over with cookies and mercilessly made fun of him.

The last six weeks of school don’t look promising. It’s going to be a long time before I get laid again.

humbert humbert.

It doesn’t seem like Ryan’s having fun in Mexico. He’s either working on the Art History paper due Thursday or reading for class. I thought I’d be reveling in his misery and chanting I told you so but I actually feel bad that he went all that way and paid money on a last minute plane ticket to not really enjoy himself.

He invited me to his house for spring break. My gay best friend (yes, I’m a hag), Khaled, thinks it’s an awful idea for reasons that will surface later in this blog. I can’t say I wasn’t enticed. Yes, we have some tension, but mostly I like fucking around with him for hours. He makes doing “nothing” enjoyable.

After a three hour nap (5:00 to 8:00) this evening I was feeling really unaccomplished so I went to the library or The Dungeon Where Undergrads Go to Die Slowly. I quickly typed up a response paper for Political Science and read/editted two stories from my writing workshop. I’d say it was a pretty successful two hours.

When I was packing up to leave Michael stopped by to ruin my good mood. He tried to get himself out of the doghouse by offering me a cookie.

A cookie? Really? Am I a twelve-year-old girl, Michael? Are you a pedophile?

I quickly shrank away from him and hurriedly went back to the dorms. In the future, please don’t try to lure me with baked goods. My response won’t be wet panties.

pfft, like i’d go if i could.

Ryan’s mom called on Friday to tell him that she was vacationing in Mexico for the week. Two hours later he had convinced her to let him take off five days of classes to lounge on the beach and pretend to read Jane Austen for English. I’m currently sitting in my bed hating him and wishing that he won’t call or text about the amazing, sandy beaches and the over seventy degree weather.

I can’t even remember the warmth of the sun; it’s been cloudy skies and cold snow for the past four months. If I wasn’t here on scholarship I’d be in California with my friend, Lizzy, prancing around in dresses that are a bit too short.

Frankly, I think he’s stupid for going. Midterms have all ready begun and he’s going to be missing valuable handouts and office hours and all that crap. He swears up and down that he’s going to study, but somehow I can’t picture anyone wanting to open up his Econ notebook in a four star hotel.

What irritates me more is that I’m missing that boy so much. He is such an asshole.