I’m a Big Girl Now!

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Lottery

I hate girls.

I live with 3 three of them, 2 of which seem to take issue with my very existence. For this past Valentine’s Day Alex bought me a huge, beautiful bouquet of Birds of Paradise, my absolute favorite flower. T’s boyfriend bought her a beautiful bouquet of red tulips. We both put them out on the dining room table that night. I went away that weekend, and I when I got home someone had moved them onto my desk, out of the main area. They weren’t dead and they weren’t shedding. T’s flowers were still out, and remained out on the main counter for weeks, long after they had shriveled and browned.

I’m in a sorority that thinks we’re still in high school and that there are still cool kids. I was never a cool kid, and I was never a bitch. In a small sorority, that’s, like, a capital offence. My reputation has been sentenced to death and is currently on 2nd appeal.

I’m running out of options. The Governor is not sympathetic. My reputation’s death will be quick and painless and “humane.”

I feel like this year should end with a neat little wrap up; a “moral of the story” page, really any sort of sign from god would be great.

I’ll take a lottery ticket with the winning numbers scratched off for me, thanks.

In the Age of Aquarius

http://www.ecogeek.org/content/view/1680/85/

So, they’ve invented a “pause” button for sperm.

Not so long ago, I read about the devolopment of an oral contraceptive for men. I was single at the time, so I asked my two roommate’s boyfriends if they would ever consider using an oral contraceptive so their girlfriends wouldn’t have to. Both said no, and to this day I take that as an indication of their massive doucheyness. Recently, I asked my current boyfriend if he would take oral contraceptives so I wouldn’t have to and he aked me where he could sign up and would I please come with him to the doctor to get a perscription. To this day that is an indicator of his Prince Charming-ness.

 Oral contraceptives have been the baine of my existance since I dabbled in the upper-middle-class designer drug last year. I tried Yaz to help with my skin and regulate my period and all I got was a stupid T-shirt. Oh, and horrible mood swings, depression, and 15 pounds. I think I literally cried for 4 and a half months straight.

Over the summer I went off the horrible, horrible Pill, and, lo and behold, I lost weight, stopped crying, and realized that if I was going to cry all the time I may as well be able to have a damn cigarette while doing it.

When I started dating Alex, I knew I needed to get back on the Pill eventually. I’m not an idiot. No one wants to use condoms forever, least of all me. So started taking the Pill again. A different brand (or should a different designer), a different day.

Six months later, I’m still having the same problems I was having with Yaz. I have mood swings and I cry a lot. I’m carrying 15 pounds of extra weight and these symptoms are normal and supposed to go away after three. I’m looking into other options, but very few exist that don’t involove hormones or a very awkward looking sponge.

It helps to know that I have a boyfriend willing to take oral contraceptives himself, who texts me everyday at 4:45 to remind me to take my pill, and who got really excited over the prospect of a remote that would turn his sperm off. I would hope that most men start come around, or have already come around to a similar view on the subject.

The Strange Incident of the Alex and the Eggs

I love Alex to the absolute bottom of my heart. I can only say this about very few people, and do not take the term, the concept, the idea of love lightly.

Out 6 month anniversary (well, monthiversary, but who’s counting?) is on Sunday. I love that we became official on the first of the month, it’s very neat, very clean, very easy to remember. I may love this guy, but not even love is a remedy for a swiss-cheese memory. I’m impressed that I can remember that I have class at… noon. Right, noon.

In any case, Alex and I have big plans that I’m not privy to yet, complete with a Very Secretive Gift and a Very Expensive Dinner.

I am understandably excited.

Though excited I am about this dinner, the past couple of weeks have been spent exclusively with Alex. Usually we migrate between my apartment in the bowels of Davis and his dorm, which are basically the bowels of Davis themselves. However, since Monday I’ve slept, ate and shit exclusively at the Dorms.

It started last Wednesday. Alex had slept over and we got up and made scrambled eggs in the kitchen that I pay 1/4 of the rent for the privilege to use. When we went to clean the pan and plates we found the garbage disposal making a pathetic growling noise. And not in a good, I’m-a-garbage-disposal-disposing-of-your-eggs way.

We were running late for class, so we made a quick decision to leave the eggs out on the counter to be dealt with later that evening. We figured putting them in the garbage would stink, and so we left, eggs out on the counter in their glory.

(Granted, this was probably not the best plan. I don’t claim to be all that smart, especially when it comes to household chores. In fact, household chores in my book are usually cleaning out the shot glasses and stepping over the pizza boxes. I’m a second year college student, and I don’t pretend to be anything else.)

That evening, after a very stressful run-in with some not so nice girls that I occasionally pretend are my friends, I was at Alex’s watching Law and Order and trying not to cry. I got a text from my roommate asking if I was coming home, and I could please clean up the eggs as soon I got home.

When I got home on Friday morning (again, I know it had been a few days… I suck) the eggs were gone and there was a nasty note taped to the cabinets above the sink. I read the note, went into my room and threw the note away.

A few days later, my other roommate and I were talking and she said that B was still really upset about the eggs. Like really upset… she was crying.

I mean, I can accept that I was kind of an asshole about leaving the eggs out in the first place, but crying? Lately I’ve been crying over just about everything, and I can relate to having a hair-trigger when it comes to… my life. But me leaving eggs out on the counter? Throwing out a nasty note she wrote me? What did she want me to do, frame it? That I just don’t get. It’s like… OMG EGGS! *cry* Honestly, I know I seem heartless, but this is not the first time my roommates have been shitty with me, and this was the last straw. She confronted me Monday evening, yelled at me for not calling the maintenance for the disposal (my job?), and I just broke. I was done. I took the yelling, and when she was done I packed a bag, threw my books in my backpack and called Alex to come get me.

I’ve been living in his dorm room, approximately the size of my left foot, ever since.

I am understandably cramped, annoyed and five million times happier than I was in my large, hostile apartment.

A-B-C

I never really know how to start projects.

 Any project, really. I’m almost always at a loss when presented with the beginning. Take this project for example. I am determined to start and maintain this blog. I want somewhere to write everything down. I want a place for my rants. My hopes. My fears. My silly pictures. My epic tragedies. My triumphs. Something a little beyond Facebook. (Though that tagging feature may just be God’s gift to drunken college students. Well, for drunken college students it’s probably more along the lines of a punishment, but for web and programming nerds like myself, it’s a small slice of heaven.)

I’m tempted to import my old livejournal entires here, just so I don’t have to start again. But I feel like that defeats the purpose a little bit. If I wanted to continue my livejournal, I’d just blog there. The thing is, after 5+ years with the good old LJ, I feel like I need a fresh start. Not that the 10th grade wasn’t wonderful. Well, no, it really wasn’t. Actually, it sucked. A lot.

So here is my clean slate, my “grown-up” blog. As long as I don’t have to give up my bathroom humor or my naive optimism, I’ll say it’s a a “grown-up” blog.