I put the EYE in Intercourse.

Believe it or not, I have recently had some partially awkward run-in's with humans of the female gender, A.K.A "Girls."

I was simply strumming on my guitar when an unwanted intruder entered my dormatory via the common entrance A.K.A "Front Door." My security system went off, and a loud, robotic voice repeated "Intruder alert, Intruder alert, Intruder alert," which usually scares people off, especially people of the female gender. If this repellent fails me, I usually resort to plan B A.K.A "Pepper Spray," or "Excessive and Abrupt Flatulance," but my tummy was empty, as was my can of pepper spray, so the female specimen proceeded into my dormatory.

Before pissing myself in fear, I was able to hit her (not literally) with the most effective pick up line I use on a regular basis, "What the fuck do you want, and why didn't my elaborate security system scare you off, you asshole?"

"Um....I....um....I'm moving...and I was wondering if you had a box or a bag that I could use to carry some of my stuff to my new room...please?"

Feeling slightly bad about coming off so strong, and causing myself to have a hernia after I forced so many dry-heave failed-fart's, I decided to be kind to this human female, and ask her if a cardboard box I had would work.

She looked at me, and I swear to Allah, 110% accurate, she looked me dead in the eyes, and had sex with me right there, via EYE CONTACT.

I had heard about it in movies many times, as I recall a line from a certain motion picture saying, "dude, she eye-fucked the shit out of you."

Indeed, I had been Eye-Fucked.

It was the most humbling experience of my life. She said the simplest thing, I think it was "Yeah, that works. Thank you!" Yet it was so obviously inappropriate to engage in intercourse with me, from ACROSS the dorm, AFTER breaking in through my security system.

I felt 50% violated, 20% aroused, and 100% confused.

Some would say that adds up to 170%.

I would say, I'm in Math 105, and I just got sexually assaulted in the comfort of my own dorm.

I changed the couch cushions, apologized to my roommates, and it was time to move on.

So move on I did.

HOWEVER, the next day would present a similar problem.

As I was in the learning center, A.K.A place where I am supposed to study, but usually blog and check on my fantasy team, a student tour was being conducted, and a particularly handsome* woman walked in through the doorway, much like in the previous case. Except this time, she broke no security system., which was ok with me.

Anyway, I started staring at her, and I knew I was staring, and I was thinking to myself, "Hey Sean, you creepy bastard. you should probaly stop staring, because that is creepy. You creepy bastard."

My mind was telling me "No" but my body, like R. Kelly says, was "telling me yes."

So, I listened to my body, and I just continued staring at her. Then she made eye contact with me, most likely thinking to herself "Why the hell would I want to come to this school. So 6'7 kids in purple T-Shirts can stare at me while I try to do math homework? What the hell is this kid doing? Is that drool?"

Indeed, I was sitting in a puddle of my own drool, but that is BESIDES the point. The point is, we are in love, and it was love at first sight.

I continued staring, and she ended up looking back several times, and I was getting the vibe that my stares went from "Creepy" to "He's kinda cute" to "He's smiling at me, I think I will smile back," and then it happened AGAIN!

AGAIN!

We locked eyes for the third time in a magical 30 second span, and I swear to Allah, 110% her and I engaged in activities inappropriate for the learning center via EYE CONTACT from 20 feet away!

I'm not going to lie, I initiated the "eye-sex" this time around, mostly cuz I wanted to see if it was just a one time thing, or if it can be duplicated.

Turns out, it can be. All you have to do is entice yourself into a vegetative state, stare at a girl for a really long time, until you catch her attention, forcing her to think "is this kid seriously doing this right now?" Then you keep staring, and eventually she will love you.

It is inevitable.

Long story short, she is coming to the school next year, and we are getting married, I will propose to her via 2 blinks, and when she says yes by blinking her left eye, I will buy her a contact lense as her wedding ring, to wear at all times. We are in love, and if you disapprove, I hate you.

Ok though, 2 times HAS to be a fluke right? This can't happen more than TWICE!

You know the old saying, "Fool me twice, shame on me, fool me three times, I just impregnated you through eye contact."

You can only guess what happened next.

I was strolling back to the dorms, after grabbing soup and a salad A.K.A "Lunch" from Mac's Snacks, A.K.A "rip-off," where I ran into (Not literally) a female human I had spoken with earlier in the day.

This female human may or may not be an admitted bi-sexual, and may or may not perform stripteases on a regular basis for extra cash, but that is completely IRRELEVANT.

I spotted her from about 20 feet away, and looked down because it was too far away to say hi, so we each walked 10 more feet, and it was optimum "say hi time."

I seized the opportunity, and said "It's a beautiful day. How are you?"

The female specimen replied "I am good. It is a nice day."

Totally normal conversation.

I was actually happy to have had a verbal exchange INCLUDING eye-contact, with no sexual undertones. I was elated to have a friendly social greeting.

Then she uttered the inevitable SEXY PHRASE.

As I was walking past her, she turned around, and said "We are having sex in my mind right now. And you like it. I am going to communicate this through eye contact. Some would call it "eye-sex." I heard it in a motion picture once."

Ok, you are right. She did NOT say that.

She said "How's that salad?"

But what she MEANT was the original quote, because she looked me dead in the eyes, told me via unspoken word that she was going to take my virginity, and I was going to be happy about it.

Not knowing what to do, I was helpless, I made eye contact, and sure enough, this beautiful day became a sad, sad mess, and I was now the father of an eye-baby.

I knew I should have worn glasses. Safety first.

Either way, this time i felt 100% violated, and 13% happy that it was over 60 degrees in La Grande. Which is NOT a lie.

So, to combat this accidental eye-intercourse, I have decided to walk around with my eyes taped shut at all times. Taking notes in class presents a problem, and I have to put my suitemate on a leash to guide me to classes, because seeing-eye-dogs are way too expensive.

So far, I've twisted my ankle, drawn obscene pictures on my multiple choice tests cuz I couldn't see A B or C, so I just drew the middle finger, and I have been cited for wreckless walking, but I have YET to have involuntary eye-sex, so i am going to live the rest of my life as a pseudo-blind man.

And if you don't like it, stop making eye contact with me, because you may or may not have just had unprotected sex without knowing it.

Milk. Getting Hit on by older Women gets you Free Food.

Upon starting my college career here at EOU, I have learned many things.

I now know to use the dryer closest to the window, because it is the only one that leaves your clothes smelling like dryer sheets, as opposed to sweaty ass.

I have learned not to run in the halls because the RA's don't like you.

I've learned that fantasy basketball is the best way to pass time in college.

I have also learned that the group of people commonly featured on this blog now known as "the kids across the hall" find great joy in pulling pranks that would have been funny when you were just getting potty trained and said your first words "mama."

For most of us, this was in the infant years.

However, the kids across the hall suffer from a rare disease called "WeAreBastardsAndLikeToPutSpoilingFoodInOtherPeoplesRefridgeratorsBecauseWeFindItQuiteFunny...OopsIJustPoopedMyDiaperSomeoneGetMom-itis"

It is relatively unknown, but very common in the Eastern part of Oregon, especially in North Hall second floor room 215ish.

I was making a routine check of the fridge, beause you have to do that every once in a while just to make sure people aren't eating your shit. Figuratively, not literally.

Anyway, I slided my Orange Juice over, only to see a gallon of 2% Milk seperated, caked over, looking like a mix of semen and cottage cheese with water on top. After the human reaction of throwing up and thinking of how to dispose of this milky-mixture, I decided to find out whose effing milk this was.

I asked my roomie, then my suitemate, and they both promised it wasn't theirs.

Then, my suitemate told me the "Kids across the hall" were going to try to keep their milk for the entire school year, seeing what it would turn into come summertime.

I laughed, thinking how stupid that was...then a lightbulb turned on in my head. Literally. My eye sockets started glowing, and I started levitating. Turns out conversations about dairy products turn me into a superhero of some kind.

A superhero who has a knack for finding out who the hell put half a gallon of toxic waste disguised as part semen part milk behind my orange juice.

I then asked my suitemate, "Gee, do you think those bastards put their spoiling milk in our fridge."

Suitemate: "Oh....oh...shit....FUCK THEM!"

Turns out it was the bastards across the hall, and one of them walked into our room about 15 minutes later. Our conversation went like this.

KATH= Kid Across The Hall

The= Usually not abbreviated.

KATH: "Hey...did you guys like that milk?"

Me: "Yeah, I drank the whole thing. It tasted kinda clumpy though. What was wrong with it?

KATH: (Most likely thinking to himself "I am a faggot. Faggy fag fag fag who puts spoiling food items in other peoples fridge. AHAHHAHAHAAHHAHA! I am funny. Faggy faggy funny funny.) "...Seriously?"

Me: "No...and you shouldn't ever put anything in our refridgerator again. Or else i am going to kill your roommate and put him in your freezer, then spread my feces all over your bedsheets, you sick, sick bastard."

KATH: "Did you just threaten to kill my roommate and spread your poop all over my bedroom?"

Me: "Nope. But I am going to make you drink the milk you put in my fridge. In one sitting. Right now."

KATH: "Your eyes are lighting up, and you are floating. I am very intimidated, and now I am going to voluntarily drink this spoiled milk, even though it is 2% and I am more of a whole milk kinda guy. But considering you are suddenly growing claws, I am going to abide your rules, sir."

Me: "When you are done, I am going to claw you exactly one time across the face, and you have to tell your friends how tough I am, and to never use the words 'yogurt, cheese, milk, curd, cottage, leg-press and apple' around me ever again, or they will sleep in a feces-ridden bed for the rest of their college years, and my eyes will light up. Also, tell them that the drier closest to the window is MINE for the rest of the year. And possibly part of next year if I feel like paying 2$ for a shitty laundry job.

KATH: "Okay. Leg-Press."**

Me: "Oops."

**See blog: "Things Overheard in the Lunchline."

The time(s) i got hit on by the lady who works at Mac's Snacks:

DISCLAIMER:

(This is a legendary tale, and I really hope this lady is not my friend on Facebook and read's this blog. If you do, hit me up, and I love you. Alot.)

I was deciding whether I wanted to pay 6 dollars for a deli sandwich or $6.50 for a salad with soggy lettuce, and I felt a warm, 45+ year old arm caress my shoulder blades, and wrap snugly around my right bicep with a grip that would make any man cringe, or climax, depending on how you look at it.

It was Mac's Snack's lady, telling me how happy she was that I opened a door for her once.

She somehow made this into a semi-sexual thing, calling me handsome and commenting on my facial features in some way. I think she said.

"I was never so happy to see such a handsome young man. Emphasis on young. Seriously, kid. You look like a 12 year old stopped maturing, but kept getting taller. Honestly, it freaks me out and I am just being nice to you to compensate because I am secretly freaked out by your 12 year old face atop a 19 year old body. With big feet and big hands. You are ugly. Sorry."

She was talking to a student affairs worker, elaborating on how I am her "handsome super hero" and how I saved her by opening a door.

I was still trying to decide Ham or Turkey.

Turkey. Got it.

Then, after the word "handsome" "12-year old" and "sex" were dropped a few more times, the student affairs lady walked up to me and said "You can file a grievance. She can't call you handsome. If you feel harassed, you can file a grievance."

To her credit, this student affairs lady was really convincing. I had never spoken with her before, so I was convinced she was serious.

So, I did what ANY teenager would do in this situation.

In a feeble attempt to reduce the awkwardness in the room, I took a deep breath, sensing the tension in the room, bit my lower lip, wrapped both of these old women in my arms, and coaxed our respective bodies into some awkward yet lovely sort of triple-kiss.

Long story short, I made out with BOTH of them at ONE time, and the Mac's Snacks lady gave me free fruit to go with my sandwich, and the student affairs lady gave me her hand in marriage, and free laundry for the rest of the term.

And by that, I mean I dropped my sandwich, started blushing, and they both made fun of me, saying my red cheeks remind them of a porcelain doll's.

Thank you.

I did walk away with fresh fruit, and a wife, but on the way back to the dorm, someone asked me why I always get "yogurt."

I then said...you shouldn't have said that.

Then, 10 people were severely wounded, I got a campus fine for "excessive clawing, lit up eyes, and inappropriate levitation."

The wife was not pleased, because she found out she is not only married to someone who exaggerates stories in blogs on the internet, but she is married to a superhero. Which, as Hancock illustrates, is not nearly as cool as you would think.

To dairy products, and 3 way kisses.

Peace.

Spit on my Super Bowls and Plates. RA= Resident Asses.

Incase you were not aware, today was Super Bowl Sunday, and Dorm's are stupid.



Dormitory is Greek for "Place where loud obnoxious people invade your privacy, and they make you pay for laundry. 1 dollar each load, and 1 dollar each dry, even though you need to use 3 loads and 3 drys so your clothes don't smell like the festering shit sack that you call your home while trying to get a decent education."



I think it is clear why we no longer speak Greek, and every culture has filtered out the Gyro and Feta Cheese.



Infact, as I wrote this, a fellow dorm-mate of mine walked through the hallway as loudly as possible, proclaiming to his friend who is in the room way too often, "Everytime i fuckin' see you, you are wearin' a fuckin' beanie, with your fuckin' wavy ass hair floppin' out the fuckin' sides."



After hearing this, my IQ dropped 30 points instantly, it started raining outside, and I lost 12 Facebook friends.


Sean Dart is: Loving living in the immediate vicinity of 13 year olds.



As many people could understand, I have recently become incapable of digesting the food from Hoke, the cafeteria here on campus.



I am convinced cardboard is not in the food pyramid, therefore my stomach is not built to withstand the digesting of Hoke foods.



So...I decided to BUY food from Wal Mart, and cook it myself in the communal kitchen. A novel concept, yes?



NO.



The RA's in our hall decided to revert to a hybrid disciplinary method involving totalitarian dictatorship, and elementary school detention.



They closed down the communal kitchen for EVERYONE because SOMEONE left a mess in the kitchen and didn't turn the oven off.



So...I thought I would make the RA a proposal.



"Hey, if I clean up the mess in the kitchen, can I use it? I'm hungry, and I need to cook food. And Hoke is closed. And it's sunday. And my name is Sean. And you are looking at me like I am mentall challenged."



"Um....um.....um....let me...let me check on that."



(Pretends to dial his cell phone but I am sure he just opened tetris, then started talking to the sound effects on his phone.)



"Um...um...yeah I'd love to open it for you...but...um...hold on...what's that you say? Oh....um...HIGH SCORE. ALL TIME RECORD. BEE BOOP BEE BOOP BOOP BEEP BEE BEEP BOOP."



"Um...excuse me, Mr. RA, did you just try to answer my question with Tetris game sound effects? Was there anyone really on the phone just now? And why are you trying to rotate my body to fit perfectly between make-believe polygons?"



"SYSTEM ERROR. MALFUNCTION. YOU. CANT. USE. THE KITCHEN. GO. TO. BED. No running in the halls."



More or less*, this is EXACTLY* how our conversation went, and long story short, I had to sacrafice the body of a kid across the hall, and cooked my chicken over an open flame, created by this poor college student. And by chicken, I mean the other white meat. Human. Then I stole his Rock Band. But I was full. Because I ate him afterwards too.



*Less. *Not exactly.



Either that, or I went to Subway.



"5. 5 dollar. 5 dollar freshmannnnnnn."



Amidst all of this disciplinary horse manure inflicted by the RA's. (I guess it is illegal in Oregon to eat another human) I was wishing people would treat me like I am older than I am.



How nice it would be to be older, wiser, more mature.



Then I saw one of the owners of the Steelers football franchise speak after their superbowl victory.



"First and foremost I would like to thank President Obama. And this group of men are a fantastic football team."



I was waiting for him to conclude his groundbreaking speech by saying "Happy Thanksgiving. Now let's eat some Turkey." Leaving the whole audience in awe, wondering what this senile old man was thinking.



Turns out he went on to actually talk about football, but it got me to thinking, we should probaly thank Obama for everything in our lives. Good or bad. I'm pretty sure I might have read somewhere on the Internet that he is actually immortal, and the second coming of Christ, and that he is the best thing on this earth since Chia Pet.



Thank you Obama, for leaving the oven on, and closing the kitchen.



Thank you Obama, for opening Subway, and allowing me to get double the meat, for only $1.89 more.



How you know you are an inconsiderate roommate:



This story is 110%* true, as opposed to my other stories, which are all 100%** true.



*Really. **Not really.



My roommate and I were watching TV, quietly minding our own business. Then, our ex-suitemate who is still technically living here but never lives here because he lives with his girlfriend in another suite, walked in.



First, he started talking, and it was apparent that his voice was very raspy.



He declared to us that he was very sick, and his doctors had no idea what is wrong with him, they just put him on a bunch of antibiotics and hoped for it to be gone in the next week or so. We joked with him, saying "Yeah stay away from us then, we don't wanna get sick."



He laughed. We laughed. It was all a very innocent time.



Then, about 40 minutes later, we are in the living room still, and our ex-suitemate comes storming in the door, makes an immediate left towards the sink with all of our DISHES in it.



Pauses...clears his throat to gather as much mucus as possible, ducks his head into the sink, and spits out a wad of loogie that could be commonly mistaken as a living, breathing heap of booger-spit in most situations. He then removes his head from the depths of the sink, runs water over it for .5 seconds, and walks out, like nothing happened.



First, I shot him in the head in my mind.



Second, I made a promise to myself to wipe my ass with his pillowcase.



And third, I made a note to myself to never, ever, ever use those dishes again.



I used those dishes again, after a thorough cleansing session, but I never did get around to shooting him in my mind. So...I write mean things annonymously online. Revenge is sweet.



Speaking of revenge, I think im gonna go make a mess in the kitchen, leave the oven on, and door-knock-ditch my RA, sprout my first armpit hair, then get on AIM instant messenger, and ask this cute girl to Promotion, because I am 13 again, and 7th grade is like the best year YET!



Baaaaaaaaaaah.