ArgStyle

Hey Blog! Sorry, I know I complained about how lovely and freeing finals week was, only to be followed by almost a month and a half of vacation play time. But I find that vacation play time is sometimes commandeered for family time, sheet rocking the basement ceiling time, horizontal surface time, and wasting time. But. Now I am here to show you Brother with all of his argyle and all of his style. We played dress up for Christmas Eve and the theme was "Gap Christmas Ad".
Our 22nd Christmas and last Christmas at the house was lovely and celebrated as usual with Bloody Marys, cinnamon rolls, lots of socks, and merciless teasing. Style will clearly not be compromised as we get ready to move out.
So. Happy New Year, interwebs. Celebrate with Dick Clark and try to laugh at his jokes and not at his post-stroke self and sporadic camera cuts.

'08 Resolution re-cap:
Use fewer commas and less vomit. Check and check!
'09 Resolution:
Like spicy food.

A week without classes?! Underrated!

It is finals week. A week that every room that every college student walks into must have a giant sign over it that says, "Complaint Department". They are consistent emitters of whine about how nobody could possibly understand just how much they have been studying, or studying they have to do. Nobody has as many projects due, or papers to write, or hundreds of thousands of full notebooks to memorize. There is no possible way that you, fellow college student, could understand.

So, Kelsey Roommate and I look at the outside of our door, make sure there is no sign other than "Keep Off The Grass" and slam it in every whiny, over-stressed, under-slept, ugly-print-polyester-pajama-pants-wearing girl that knocks on our door. Then we open it again and offer them a cup of hot chocolate and a spot on the amoeba couch to watch the blizzard outside. No thinking about homework and tests is allowed during blizzard and hot chocolate time so we can all just take twenty freaking minutes and appreciate that we're in college.
And that that's awesome.

It's about grieving. Ham.

Insert sadface emoticon here.
Because Santa did not come soon enough with the fish doctor. Ham died yesterday, hopefully peacefully while I was learning Spanish. He was a good fish, and likely the best roommate I will have in my lifetime. Ham was a great listener, kept clean digs, and up until his last days, was an enthusiastic eater. And what more could a girl ask for in a roommate/best friend/desk resident?
Excuse me, it appears that Santa did not make it with those tissues just yet either.

It's about giving. To me.

Christmas List:

1. Four cases of Stonyfield Farm vanilla yogurt. (If you cut me open, the only things you would find inside me would be this yogurt and earl grey tea. And phlegm. Phlegm was maybe not the best way to start the first blog post in two weeks. Apologies.)
2. A fish doctor. Ham is struggling with the whole “eating his food” thing. He’s all, “Oh! The food! SCORE. (swimswimswim toward the food) I’m ready! Ima eat it! I’ve never been more hungry and totally can’t wait to get this foooooodNEVERMIND. (swimswimswim away from the food).”
3. Tissues. The kind with lotion which, contrary to some beliefs, do not “already feel used”. I will show you what an already used tissue feels like, pick one off my desk or bed or nightstand or floor.
4. A pocket-sized Kelsey Roommate. She’s too cute for anything ever, especially during times of new love. She leaves a wake of puppies and rainbows and sunshine wherever her little frame and cute glasses take her.
5. This. Because once you’ve read the non-graphic novel version, you should be able to reward yourself with pictures.