4 Feb

Christmas is just around the corner! Does your kid enjoy arts and crafts? Need a gift idea for your child that will spark her creativity? Perhaps you would be interested in Build Your Own Chicagoan! The following kit allows you to put together your own Chicago-native (*NOT a suburb! lol) sorority girl paradigm, for only 3 easy payments of $19.99! Package includes the following:

*~*That’s hot.*~*

Squeezing doll’s foot produces oodles of fun phrases such as “LOL!”, “That’s ridic.” “OMG!!” “Loves it!” and “Break My ❤ && I’ll Break Ur Face!!”


A fake, oversized Coach handbag is fundamental to ANY Alpha Zeta Gay gurl!! And it’s big enough to hold all your sunless tanner and the BlackBerry *daddy* bought you!

Don’t forget to accessorize!

A *must*

Of course, no sorority girl is complete without a fake, shitty platinum blonde ‘do!

PLUS, if you order in the next fifteen seconds, we’ll throw in a .22 so you can kill yourself after ordering! What are you waiting for? ‘Tis the season!!

[By the way, if you didn’t get the abstract pun of the title: “Bear” referring to Chicago ‘Bears.’ I thought it was clever. Snort]

I am supremely satisfied with my productivity level in the computer lab today. This is my first serious break from a solid 5 1/2 hour study session that has solely revolved around Survey of Film. However, with every up, there’s a down. Although today I was not my own distraction, my neighbor to the left certainly was. I notice this man in the computer lab every single day, but today I finally had the displeasure of sitting right next to him.

He began his barrage of distractions by blaring 70s rock music and black ass jazz through his headphones while simultaneously watching repetitive clips of live performances on YouTube. It wasn’t like I could barely pick out the rhythm of the song; I was subjected to the heartbeat of the singer himself and commentary from people in the audience due to the unnecessary volume this man was playing it at. Being in my position, Ray Charles would have been convinced that he were sitting just outside the main entrance of a BeeGees concert.

To make matters worse, he began rhythmically kicking the table and furiously drumming his fingers along with his jams. Oh, and dancing. This man is literally rocking out. This is not the time, nor the place, sir. Perhaps the House of Blues is more your scene. For a little while, he moved onto what appeared to actually be “work” of some sort, and his antics died down. Then, without warning, back with the loud music and drumming, only this time he had incorporated verbal noise.

He began sucking down juices and energy drinks like it was going out of style, making unnecessary moans and grunts after each giant gulp. He literally gasps for air after each drink, as if he had just broken the surface of a lake he had nearly drowned in. Can he not hear himself? This is unbelievable. He has now begun to smack his lips every few seconds. I’m killing him.

Honest to God, some people answer their phones in the ITC as if it were Helen Keller calling. What about “quiet study lounge” don’t these people understand? The company I keep here is maddening. In other news, during the time I’ve been here, I’ve peed more times than Britney Spears has gone to court for vehicular misdemeanors. That Fuze, it goes right through you.

Update: “Commotion Carl” has now transitioned from loud music to Monty Python clips. Will he ever leave? I should start farting.

WELP, off to the gym, lads and lasses.


Me: “Richard, how the f*ck do you drink so much beer?”
Richard: “Well you see Becca, during the off-season, I chug lots and lots of milk.”
Me: “The ‘off season?'”
Richard: “Yeah, days in between days where I’m not drinking.”


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