My Spring Broke and This Blanket Makes my Forearms Cold.

Spring Break is like a box of chocolates, you go home and really enjoy yourself and seeing your family, and then you return to La Grande and realize how much you miss Bend.

Spring Break is like a box of chocolates, it's 7 days away from college, then you go back and realize school is hard, and time consuming.

Spring Break is like a box of chocolates, except if you ask to buy a "spring break" at a candy-shop, the people at the cash register look at you weird, and politely ask you to leave.

However, if you ask to buy a box of chocolates, they smile at you, and charge you 15 dollars for delicious bite-sized treats.

I don't really see the correlation, but forrest gump was a good movie, and I have recently become fond of shrimp.

Either way, at this time of year, everyone is kind of coming back to reality, just like that one Eminem song, and most of us are nervous and have vomit on our sweaters because our mom makes very spaghetti that evidently makes our stomachs feel uneasy.

For the rest of us, we are not white rap stars in Michigan, we are college students who miss home, and need a little comfort.

For those of you searching for this comfort, I introduce to you, the best invention ever created, the Snuggie.

Some would say "Hey, this is just a Blanket, with sleeves. Also known as a long-sleeve T-shirt, or a sweater, or a sweatshirt."

To that, I would say "Screw you, how many blankets do you own that make your family look like a cult!? Besides, have you ever had to answer the phone when you have a blanket on top of you? Its HORRIFIC. Let us all pray to god you don't need to pet the dog, or pick up the remote, because we all know how terribly inconvenient it is to have our forearms cold. Thank you snuggie, you are the best sleeve-blanket-cult/monk-looking product since bathrobes."

To that, you would most definitely reply with "Gee, Sean, what a great point. Here is my credit card number."

To that, I would say, "Maaahama," which you would most likely reply with "What did you just say?" And then I would say "baaaauglhalaal," and eventually our conversation would end with me buying alot of shit with your credit card, and you never talking to me again because I don't put together actual sentences, and I drool when I speak.

It was nice knowing you. Now buy a snuggie.

On top of that, school is officially back in session, and we are all forming unfair stereotypes about our teachers and classmates. Most people find it appropriate to repress these stereotypes, and wait to actually "Know" or "Speak to" the person or persons before forming outlandish judgements about these people or peoples. However, I like to celebrate these pre-concieved ignorant notions, and by "celebrate" I mean post them on the internet and tell all of my facebook friends to read it.

Anyway, I am 21% sure one of my male teachers has an unhealthy affinity for young female students, because I tried flirting with him, and he TOTALLY denied me* and I am also 34% convinced that one of my professors has an affinity for young male students, because I totally flirted with him, and he was diggin' it. Other than that, my other professor is clearly a drug dealer, and I sit next to a lizard it 3 of my 4 classes. The 4th? They are self-admitted to be legally insanse, diabetic, and consequentially, a rabbit. Further research is necessary, but so far, I have never been wrong about my stereotypes. Except for that one time I put them in my blog. THAT was stupid.

*No homo.

I am not entirely sure how many people read this blog, so I am inserting a tracking device into your computer as you read this. I also just stole a roll of toilet paper, ate your leftover pasta, and made your bed. I thought the last one was a nice gesture. That camera in your room? You need to leave it. It is necessary for me to further continue my research, aka "watching you sleep."

Anyway, I thought I would try to make this interactive, so as we are all in our first week of classes, lets make fun of our professors and talk about the reptiles we sit next to the only noble way in the world...anonymously over the internet! Share your stories by clicking "comment," and if you are not a "follower" of this blog, click on the link that says "follow this blog."

After that, leave me your social security number, and I will send you 2 complimentary snuggies for your participation, and for your forearms to be warm at all times.

Dirty Laundry. Dirty Elves. Dirty Soil.

What's more fun than facebook? Trying to have 6! conversations on facebook chat at one time. I attempted this feat recently, and ended up having an epilleptic seizure, but it was the best epilleptic seizure I have ever had.



Aside from facebook, my life has been heavily involved in smelly things recently.



First, my dorm is very clean. Very organized. However, there is a lingering stench that seems to be impossible to extinguish. I thought perhaps our dorm was built on an ancient burial ground, perhaps an ancient burial ground that was a burial ground EXCLUSIVELY for stinky indians. And if wikipedia is correct, which it undoubtedly always is, ALL native americans have body odor. Therefore, my dorm smells bad.



Turns out, my roommate is conducting a science experiment with soil, sugar, water, and ASSHOLE, which for some reason combines to smell like the rotting corps of a smelly indian. Makes sense to me. The experiment has since been moved to the bathroom, where there is my toothbrush, handsoap, a toilet, a mens health magazine, and a lingering stench of dead indians. Dead, smelly indians.



If this blog seems sidetracked, it is because a female human just entered my dorm room, peeked her head in, said hello, and i continued to blog, not distracted by her female-ness. Then her boyfriend walked in. I continued to not be distracted. She responded by saying "Well I am going to leave, because you aren't looking at me, so you obviously don't want me to be here."



I replied by saying, "meh."



I think I just figured out why I don't have any friends.



It's cuz my dorm smells like dead people.


If you have not had the privledge of doing laundry in the dorms at EOU, I strongly recommend you try it sometime. Or, just wash your clothes in a vat of pig vomit and human urine. It is technically the same thing. For some reason, every time you take your clothes out of the washer, they smell worse than when they went in.

I have conducted COUNTLESS comprehensive studies on this particular subject, and I have reached ONE highly scientific, sophisticated solution.

There are little elves in the washing machine, that dance around when the door closes and disappear when the door opens. These elves happen to have Irritable Bowl Syndrome, and are particularly flatulent when exposed to cotton.

Being that most of my clothes are indeed composed of cotton, I put the clothes in, close the door, and those little bastards dance around, giggling and laughing, farting and shitting all over my clothes! Except it is invisible shit, because Elves are magical, and they can make their shit disappear at any moment. I know it sounds alot more likely that "Maybe the soap filter is broken," or "Maybe you didn't use detergent, you dumbass," but I PROMISE these little elves are to blame.

Little elves dancing around in a washing machine is normal enough, but today, something ABnormal happened in the laundry room.


I put my clothes in, just like any other day, and 36 minutes later, when i took them out, I had 2 new size medium buck hunting t-shirts, and some underwear and socks that would be tight on a 12 year old girl.

My first thought was, "Oh god, these damn elves left their tiny garments in the washing machine, and now they are gonna be pissed, cuz I messed with them, and these crazy little elves will undoubtedly haunt my dreams for the next 72 hours."

Then...I took a step back and started thinking rationally. Realistically, the elves probaly got frisky INSIDE of the washing machine, and gave birth to some new garments. Baby garments that endorse buck hunting and Led Zepplin.

The first shirt read "If you are what you eat...then I'm a 250 pound BRUISER!"And it had an illustration of a Buck wearing the exact T shirt that it was displayed on. Which was really confusing, cuz if you are a Buck, why would you be eating another Buck? Unless your name is Michael Redd or Charlie Villanueva, who are both well-known to be Cannibals. And I'm pretty sure Andrew Bogut is Australlian, and everyone knows what happens down under, stays down under. Especially cannibalism. Or something like that...

The second shirt read "Led Zepplin."

The boxers and socks read "I would not fit most normal sized humans comfortably."

Turns out it was my suitemates clothes, who is very short, listens to Led Zepplin, and hangs out with Michael Redd. It all makes sense now.

If you have never gone to www.dictionary.com and clicked the pronounciation key on random words, you haven't lived. And if you haven't lived, you are dead. And if you are dead, and reading this blog, you are a ghost and you should stop haunting me right now. Or use your ghost internet time on something more useful, like pronouncing random words on dictionary.com.

Anyway, I highly recommend giving up speaking entirely, and only using the pronounciation key as a means of communication. It is more personal than text messaging, and alot easier than actually using your vocal cords, so next time you are carrying around your laptop, click obscene words to use for people you don't like, and words like "Handsome" "Young Man," and "Bubble," when speaking to me.

Why handsome? Because the pronouncer does a poor job pronouncing the -some part, so when you play it out loud, it sounds like...

"Hand Young Man Bubble."

Everyone knows conjunctions are overrated, and talking like a caveman is bad ass. Which in reality means good. But saying good ass doesnt have the same effect.

The next person that walks into my dorm room and says "Wow...it's really plain in here," I will personally skin them, and plaster them on my wall, which is ultimately ironic because THEY are the ones complaining about how I don't have any posters up, but THEY will BE the poster, which is equally hillarious if it was not illegal. But Oregon has some crazy laws, so I suppose I will abide by them.

To fantasy basketball.

Peace.