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.