Every day we must get emails. How long until we are free of the email monster? Why can’t we just have one week where we don’t send any emails and we don’t open any emails and we just are content with the fact that we don’t know what’s going on at all? Wouldn’t life be so much simpler, so much more joyous, then?
Hey so why are the Deece tables always just a liiiiiiiiiiiittle bit sticky? Can someone please tell me what happens on the Deece tables that makes them like that? If I wanted to be in a place where the tables are sticky I’d eat at the Mug. (Are there even tables at the Mug? I literally don’t know. I am very boring.)
The stars are telling me that you have an abnormally free Saturday this weekend. How interesting. And, oh, what’s this? The stars are also telling me that you should probably go to Skinner Hall this Saturday at 8. That’s so weird. I have no idea what that could possibly mean, but you have to listen. The stars said so.
We have to change the clocks back soon and it is going to be my villain origin story, I swear it. Why do we need to change the clocks? So it’s light in the morning? Who is awake in the morning? Name one person who is awake in the morning. I’m sorry, I simply can’t believe it. I’m a morning anti-truther.
Gonna be honest: recently I’ve been very into the concept of noises. Possible noises: screaming, yelling, wailing, caterwauling. Possible onomatopoeia to accompany you on your journey: eek, wagh, ough, yaugh. Possible places to make these noises: Old Bookstore, New Bookstore, TA path, Skinner practice room.
Have you ever seen quicksand, or even heard of anyone seeing it? That’s what I thought. I am beginning to feel a lot of mistrust for the information we were taught as children. I probably had to forgo useful knowledge in favor of knowing what to do when caught in quicksand (relax your legs and stay calm—you’re welcome).
Part of me wants to explore the abandoned hospital by Marist, but I think I’m too much of a chicken to ever go. Some say it’s unsafe and irresponsible to explore abandoned places. It’ll be okay though, because even if I get mesothelioma, a man on Nickelodeon told me that I may be entitled to financial compensation.
Our Hallow has been ween’d, so that means only one thing: It’s time to get ready for next year. Costume ideas: a Brita filter. A power strip. A magnet board. The worst microwave I have ever had the misfortune of using. No I am definitely not just listing things in my room to try and give you ideas.
You know how when you take a nap and you get those creases on your face? I wish I could feel like that all the time. I want to laugh so hard I get a nap crease. I want to be so happy I get a nap crease. We could accumulate them and trade them like legal tender. I’ll give you two if you get me something at Crafted.
Hats are underrated. There is a hat for every occasion: Dad on vacation, newspaper boy, magic show, Charlie Chaplin, the list goes on. When is a hat not appropriate? I cannot think of a single time. This week is a week of hats. If you don’t have any, just improvise by putting stuff on your head. You’ll figure it out.
The humble bagel: round, bread, perfect. I want her to know how much she means to me. If you see a bagel this week, hold her in your hands and say, Madi loves you so so much. And she would do anything for you. And please tell me what the bagel says because I need to know if she loves me too.
The concept of 3D was always kind of weird to me. Like, things are already 3D, you know? And the 3D that screens use is a different kind of 3D that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to see holographic images of “Dune,” I want to be IN “Dune.” I want to BE the Dune. I am the Dune. In “Dune.”