Well well well, it looks like I’m finally getting my things together. I got up on time, brushed and flossed, and put on deodorant. I took some good notes in each one of my four classes and I’ve already reviewed the material from today so as to keep it fresh in my memory (hint for life: not going back over your day’s notes is alot like only looking one way before crossing the road kids). I reckon I ought to give you all what you came here for and start blogging. I’ll begin chronologically
Nothing too noteworthy occurred on the 4th of February. There were plenty of notes I took, which have to be worth something. Before I made it to the library, I was walking along the brick pathway in between Baxter and Center Hall, the one with the tree shaded bench in a secluded little cove. Well, smack-dab in the middle of the walkway was a squirrel lying on its side with its lower leg raised as if it were in the middle of a New Year’s resolution ‘buns burning’ workout. Upon closer examination I observed that this squirrel’s buns were not burning, and that it was wheezing out its verminlike chirp at me. I bent down and still its buns remained in repose; I contrived that this poor little fella had fallen from one of the overhanging branches and was probably a wee bit sore. Now, we’ve all had those nights where the amount of alcohol we’ve drunk lands us on our sides in the middle of the street–hard pavement has always been more sobering than coffee for me– and it’s at that time we realize that we should’ve never attempted to climb that tree in the first place. In a Native American way, I empathized with my fellow forest creature for I had suffered a similar fate on New Year’d Eve, and in an entrepreneurial way, I really thought about the potential product: Life-Alert for Squirrels.
I have mentioned my fascination with squirrels before, and I saw this as the perfect opportunity satiate my dream of petting one. The coat on that critter was softer than double-ply cashmere toilet paper (another entrepreneurial idea). Understandably, the squirrel was not accustomed, nor fond of this 6 foot 4 goofball petting his exposed loins, and he gave the squirrel equivalent of a rattlesnake’s rattle. I mistook this hissing purr for the similar sound of gratification my overweight three legged dog utters when he sits on top of the floor vent. My delicate touch incited him to rise like a concussed boxer and scramble awkwardly toward his attacker. In simple terms, that son of a bitch charged at me like a bull towards a rodeo clown. And he whacked me with his cuddly wuddly tail. So, as a lesson to you children, don’t go pettin no squirrels. They don’t appreciate a damn thing, and all they’ll do is hurt the ones who love them the most.
This was yesterday, and this day was also spent at the library. I enjoy the isolation of the basement, but it is hotter than Satan’s gooch down there. Being February, I like to travel in a sweater, knit cap, and a coat, but as soon as I made it down the stairs I had to strip off my garments faster than Magic Mike to avoid suffering a heatstroke. Out of complete randomness I would just like to mention that my roommate Jordan will only wear pants when absolutely necessary. He’s from California, and doesn’t understand the concept of winter.
As my fellow blogger, student representative, and soul-brother Fabian House mentioned, I was at the student senate meeting. While he focused on my comedic antics, he failed to mention the fact that in my time as Sergeant in Arms, no blood has been shed in the Wabash courtroom; a feat that is no laughing matter considering how heated the debates have been recently. But, I stand by my sworn commitment to take a bullet, (or a shoe, or any other common projectile used in legislative branch assault) for President Wentzel and Vice President Goddard. Sorry, Ramsey, but seeing as how you’re the most likely to actually be attacked, I can’t offer my complete promise of protection; I’m only a yellow belt, and when it comes to violence, my go-to move is to stab someone with an epi-pen, and I’m all out of epi-pens.
Also noteworthy, last night I joined my RA, Zach, for a feast of steakburgers at the local Steak n Shake. Our waitress was a real cutie, and I would’ve been able to get my fellow blogger Nathan Bodie a hot date, had it not been for an unnamed member of our dinner party sharing his I ate poop story. Here’s the moral kids, if you’re eating trail mix with chocolate chips and theres a small black object on the couch, it might be cat poop. On a final note, I ate an adult size milkshake and have not suffered any lactose intolerant related problems. However I’m a trained professional at disregarding doctor’s recommendations when pertaining to bodily health, so don’t try this at home.