I am terrified of the future.

This was me testing out my superhero costume.

I just went on a geology field lab in my green billowy skirt and knee-high combat boots. This involved me climbing up and down a steep incline on a rope, trekking through vines and trees, and hopping around on rocks. It was a ton of fun, I thought, but everyone else seemed concerned for my wellbeing, for some reason.

When the professor saw me walk into class, he got a look of "Oh, this is bound to work out well" on his face, but by the end he was staring at me with a bemused sort of admiration. I didn't fall or get myself dirty, and I was able to get around faster than a lot of my classmates. Skirt plus leggings= more room to move than pants, but I guess they were worried that the length of the skirt would cause problems.

Reminds me of the time I rappelled off the side of my school in a skirt and knee-high boots. ^.^

Happy Halloween from Comic House!

Friday Harbor is full of many cool things

Sadly, sleep has not been one of them.

Friday we bussed up, which was great because of the ferry and the people, but horrible because I got motion sick halfway through. Seattle traffic loves me, I tell you. At the ferry terminal we were given glowsticks by a random guy in the car next to us, which turned out to be useful in the cabins. We got into Friday Harbor Lab at about 9:00 and met up at 10:00 for a tour of the facilities and a low tide algae collection EXTRAVAGANZA. I found a lot of sea stars and a chiton, which prompted my professor and her girlfriend to exclaim "good eye!," which made me feel proud in the manner of an Irish Setter which has just learned how to point at grouse in the bushes.

After that I really should have gone to bed, but instead I hung out in the boy's cabin with Matt and Larken until about 1:30. Woke up at 7:15, went to the dining hall, and had breakfast in front of a roaring fire. Post-breakfast Dana, Larken, and I went on a walk around the beach for about an hour. Dana got some awesome pics, which I am going to try to gank from her. (She is a good photographer!)

Then we met up and got a tour of the facilities, were assigned our lab space, and given several hours' worth of free time. Sarah and I spent far too much time keying out an alga, but it turned out to be a good thing because I managed to do a cross-section! I haven't been able to do one all year because my hands simply refuse to have the fine motor skills necessary, but this weekend I got one done and it was LOVELY. :D

We also did some more algae sampling. I found a crab covered in bryozoans, which made him look like he was made of marzipan, and Larken found a crab with a dashing algal hat (a fact which later confused Tim.)

After that Matt, Dana, Larken, Brian and I rowed into town to have dinner and go shopping. We accosted a candy store and discovered a store that sold everything...with lavender in it. (I now have lavender-scented glitter for open use in the girl's bathroom. Consider yourselves warned.) Larken bought a pirate hat, and I discovered that pear-and-Gorgonzola ravioli with garlic-cream sauce is...sexy. o.o

We rowed back in the dark and got ready for a night of research. We spent a few hours out on a beach digging holes and sieving sand for an invasive species of clam. My professor is interested in them because they are being parasitized by a local species of pea crab, a fact which they recently discovered. (We're helping with current research! :o) It was a lot more fun than it sounded. We danced, sang, and were cold. Really cold. There was also sand.

After that we had the option of going to another really cool intertidal site, but I was so cold and tired I felt sick (I was snuggling Matt the entire drive back to the cabins, if that is any indication of my mental state), so I ended up staying behind. My plan was to shower and pass out. Unfortunately, Sarah and I didn't think to give me the key before they drove off and left me stranded. ._.

I ended up spending two and a half hours in the boy's cabin with Larken. (I stole their shower, at least.) We had an unbirthday party involving tea and being very tired at a kitchen table, and he finally went to bed when he realised he was being too silly. (Me: "Neck popping bothers me, but popping my back is like a party!" Him: "And everyone is invited, only it's really just your vertebrae! Oh god, what did I just say?") I fell asleep on the random bed in their living room, and Sarah came to collect me when they came back at 2AM.

Today was mostly driving home.

I AM GOING TO BED. Expect an addendum of pictures from Dana which will make this post infinitely more interesting.

More rattie intros

Jadis, Lilith, and S.T. Strange met face-to-face the other day. While Tweaker and The Brick's cage soaks in the shower (it is much filthier than usual -.-), I figured I'd post a couple pics of the meeting.

First, we have a shot of Jadis' little tummy, complete with Comic House appropriate bandaging. Their sutures are now completely healed, though their skin is a little dry. I've been giving them aloe and bread with olive oil on to make it better. We'll see how well that works in another day or so.

That is an aura of FEAR. She was so sure we were going to force another syringe of pain meds down her throat.

Here is Lilith giving S.T. a kiss. Jadis is terrified of him. Then again, he is ENORMOUS.

Trevor was the "neutral ground" for the meeting. As you can see, he didn't much mind.

The girls are getting so big! I can't wait to see how big they are when fully grown.

Okay, time to go rinse the cage. I really wish they would all get along so I'd have fewer cages to clean. ._.

12 hours of X-files plus two cups of tequila and three slices of pizza= amazing day.

Now I just need to down water like a madwoman so I can be functional tomorrow.

This made me hiss like a slithery hissy thing that was just woken up by bright lights

Wren: *needs to leave for movie soon* Ack! have to go tame my hair oh god
Tim: PICTURES OF UNTAMED HAIR
Wren: no!
Tim: (it's probably a level 70 purple. raid drop.)
Tim: yessssssss.
Wren: .....YOU ARE THE BIGGEST DORK I KNOW. D=

It is now officially a Daryl Trifecta

Q: Why do these clippers suck?
A: Daryl.

I had my Old English midterm today. I have been sitting at the living room table, frantically absorbing the text on roughly eight billion handouts while surrounded by my amethyst-and-gold runes and fragrant candles for the past twenty-four hours. I called it my "circle of power," and it actually helped to a) keep me focused and b) ward everyone else off. ._. (I call that a success.)

Because of my hands, my prof agreed to let me come in 20 minutes early to get a head start on the exam. I head over to our scheduled meeting point this morning and spend twenty minutes sitting in the hall listening to Pink Martini because he completely forgot about me. Luckily, I managed to get the exam done in the required time--barely. I had two minutes to go. After that I recuperated in the science cafe with an enormous mocha and some Plato. Finally, I made it through Ancient Cities, eve though my professor was so sick he could barely hear. (Is it bad that I want to cover him in blankets and make him tea and soup?)

Okay. Trek through the rain. I get home, I collapse on the couch. I shut my brain down and enjoy my well-deserved lethargy.

And then Daryl comes home. He has finally decided his hair is disgusting (A fact which I have been trying to convince him of for the past month) and wants me to buzz his hair. Alright, fine, but we have no clippers. He wants me to go get them with him. I don't particularly want to move. He decides to take Matt instead.

Does anyone remember Toulouse, the man who lived in my closet and would pop out at intervals to yell "MISTAAAAKE" at me, tug at his pants, bow, and head back in? (I'd link, but it's secreted away in a pile of 2002 emo drivel.) I miss him. Sending two boys to do my job is not adequate, and I paid for it later.

He comes back with a set of clippers the size of my hand. Not only that, but the clippers have a name. They are called "The Peanut." (If that's not foreshadowing...) Daryl swears up and down that "the ladies at the store said they were one of the best clippers they had." (Note to self: attack ladies with "The Peanut" later.)

I decide to give them a chance and attack his head with them. Does the hair come off a la V for Vendetta or G.I. Jane? Oh no. Does the hair not move at all? Yes. I am brushing his hair with "The Peanut." It can't even keep buzzing when his hair goes through it. Daryl either has hair made out of woven steel, or these clippers suck. And I am comparing them to a set of clippers one of my friends found abandoned in a cabinet, covered under a thick layer of cat hair and dust.

A word to the wise: It violates a major law of the universe if bought objects suck more than found objects. Daryl's hair quickly became a black hole of evil, and as "The Peanut" tears its way through his hair, it begins to pull at his scalp in an attempt to have it all. "I AM ON FIRE," he finally screams, and I realize another tactic is needed.

To get the clippers to work I had to first cut his hair short with scissors, which felt great on my hands, let me tell you. After that they started working part-time. After a good 45 minutes of work, we had made progress, of a sort:

(Side note: see how my nails and tongue stud match perfectly? Yeah.)

All that hair on him? I put that there vengefully.

Luckily, with my resourcefulness, we managed to salvage his hairdo, and he now looks quite nice. The general consensus is that "The Peanut" is not really a clipper per se, but some sort of masochist's vibrator.

._.

D:

I feel like a horrible momma. The girls just went in to get spayed, and they were so HAPPY and INQUISITIVE about everything!

Jadis: OMG HI NURSE HAND GROOM GROOM
Lily: DO YOU HAVE FOOD
Jadis: EEE GROOM GROOM
Lily: GIVE ME YOUR TREATS
Jadis: <3
Lily: I WILL SETTLE FOR SNUGGLES

They're not going to be so happy or inquisitive once the surgery is over. ._.

Dear world:

I am single. I am also currently celibate. I have not been kissing anyone, having hot sex, or making out in dark corners. (Physically, at least.)

So why, world, is the doctor's office testing me for mono right now?

YOU COULDN'T LET ME GET IT THE FUN WAY, HUH.

No love,
the girl who also has a sinus infection

Pissants.

There is no longer a friendly rivalry between Comic House and Robot House. As of tonight, it is an all-out war.

Last Wednesday we got together with Dana and Larken to learn to play Guitar Hero. I invited two people from Robot House, neither of which could make it. One was "Romeo." (I am totally glaring and saying I-TOLD-YOU-SO to the house.) We only had one controller and wanted to play multiplayer mode, so we asked to borrow one. When we went over to pick it up, the guy who answered the door told us it didn't matter which controller we borrowed. So, we took the red one to make sure it wouldn't be confused with our black one. Seems fair, right?

Wednesday passes. The night is fun. I e-mail "Romeo" and ask whose controller it is to see when they want it back. I get no response at all. I IM the other guy we talk to from the house, who said we could borrow it. Also no response. Since it seemed like they really didn't care how long we had it, we held on to it. We saw several members of the house on Thursday, who waved and said nothing. On Friday, I tried to corner "Romeo" and ask him about it, but he literally RAN out of the classroom door to avoid me.

(Side note here. YOU ARE A COLLEGE SENIOR. The days of running away from girls are behind you, sir. The only reason why I tried to be nice to you was because you sat next to me the first day of class this semester, and had been nice to me on other occasions before that. You seemed funny and sarcastic, and rather intelligent. Had I known that you instantly became a sociopathic gluteal haberdasher once people tried to be civil to you, I would have kept the fuck away. You are not being stalked, which should be obvious considering you have no human qualities that would be stalk-worthy. Get over yourself! I am amazed that you managed to find six people willing to live with you, though that became less astounding as the rest of these events unfolded.)

I didn't want to bring the controller back randomly because no one ever answers the door when I knock or ring the bell (BECAUSE I AM A CRAZY STEALTHY STALKER WITH ALL THE BELL RINGING), so we held onto it and waited for them to get back to us. No dice.

Flash forward to tonight. "Romeo" is serving food at the campus grill, and when he sees me, he stops what he is doing and yells "WE WANT OUR GUITAR BACK!" I am a little taken aback, but I agree that I'll drop it by. He then proceeds to be a complete jackass to everyone in my house as we get our orders in. (Note to self: Apparently guys who glare like assholes the whole way through.)

Once we get home, I IM the other guy and ask about it. Apparently "Romeo" and the controller owner are under the impression that I walked into their house and took their damn guitar without asking anyone's permission.

Oh yes, you read that right. They think I stole their controller.

Gaskets blow somewhere in the interior of my psyche, and I lose it. The conversation did not end well. But, I think I had every right to be offended. Our houses have a friendly rivalry. That does not mean marching into their house and ganking electronic equipment. That does not mean violating personal space and overstepping the bounds of acquaintanceship. The fact that "Romeo" thinks I would stoop so low has made me lose all interest in a friendship with him. I could accept the stalker jokes, because it was amusing. But this is a bit much. Especially since they didn't do a damn thing to contact us to get it back! If you're that worried and upset over your property being taken, shouldn't you take action?

Apparently not. Apparently the members of Robot House simply sit and stew in their own angst because they have not yet developed the social skills, or possibly the fucking testicles, to figure out what is actually going on in a situation. Seven people in the house and not a socially acclimated one among them (okay, so that's not true of two of them, but still. Isn't that still defying some sort of golden rule? The entire house is a statistical anomaly, and it is completely the fault of robots!)

Tonight Maddo and I gave them their controller back, after a minor crisis involving the whammy bar and the shoddy workmanship typical of Red Octane. The ex-leader of the house answers (the one who kept threatening to burn our house down), and the following conversation ensues:

"Hello!" *chocolate bar OM NOM NOM NOM*
"Hey! Tell [controller owner] thank you for letting us borrow it, and that we would have gotten it back sooner, but we were having trouble getting ahold of you guys."
"Okay!" *OM NOM*
"Also, tell Eric he's a jerk."
"Will do!" *NOM NOM*
"Thanks!" ^_^ ^_^

So that's that. Controller is back, and I am breathing normally again. No more friendly rivalry. No more glaring and pretending to hate but actually finding it fun. We at Comic House are leaving them the fuck alone, since they have made it quite clear that is what they want. We will also be locking our doors in case they decide to "retaliate."

All of this drama over Guitar Hero? This can't actually have happened among a group of near-college graduates, surely. Right, guys? Anyone?

That's it. The lightning is incoming, I can feel it in my toes.

I never thought I'd be sentenced to Hell for just reading something, but that was before I came across this:

"Judas kissed Jesus back, and tore at His robes. In moments, Jesus was naked, and Judas was marveling at His cock. 'When they said you were hung on the cross, I did not think that this was what they meant!'"

And couldn't. Stop. Laughing.

I AM GOING TO BED. D:

It has become a house meme

Q: "Why is there a jar of peanut butter under the table?"
A: Daryl

Just a thought:

Whoever invented the "expectorant" really needs to hang out with everyone who has been forced to take it. Ever.

D:

La, hlaford!

Being social is so damn exhausting! No wonder I could never do it while I was depressed!

This is the face of a Washington State resident.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, O PEOPLE OF THE STATE.

Ahaha.

Me: *zzZZzzZZzz, under bed*
Matt: *comes home, stomps up stairs* "SARAH, WE ARE THE ONLY ONES HERE."
Me: *zzzZzz--* !

*yawn*

You know it is going to be one of those days when you wake up with horrible 80s music on repeat in your head.

Then again, I could be biased, because I'm dreading lab. I caught a freshman cheating during the Geology exam yesterday, and decided I should tell the professor. I sent him an e-mail after class, and now he wants to speak to me in lab about it.

I've never seen a student at this uni cheat. It really surprised me when I noticed he had his PDA phone out underneath his desk and was scrolling through some notes and copying things down. But, I think he needs to be called out now and learn his lesson, rather than later. If he gets caught now, he gets a reprimand, and maybe fails the test. If he gets caught his junior year, there is no doubt that he will be expelled.

Regardless, I still feel like a horrible person.

It's like I'm in high school all over again!

It seems as though the entire campus is determined to force me into a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque relationship with one of the members of Robot House. Matt has already claimed the part of Mercutio, and Maddo just wants to be everyone.

In some ways, I guess it's my fault. I've been making an effort to befriend the poor guy, especially since he makes a point of glaring at me every time he sees me (in jest, mind.) When we crashed one of their events wearing anti-robot propaganda, I was sporting an army green shirt with spray-painted stenciling that said "glare at me." It was a great hit-- I got glares in spades, coupled with much embarrassed laughter. And the rest of Robot House thought it was amazing.

Unfortunately, they also decided he and I would make a couple. Note that there's no adjective in that sentence to describe what sort of couple. I don't think they really care, so long as we get together. His roommate oh-so-stealthily tested the waters by informing their Romeo that I have "a huge crush" on him. The poor kid freaks out, and then roommate says he is joking.

You might wonder how I know this. The roommate tracked me down on Thursday and informed me of the event himself, again oh-so-stealthy in his reconnaissance. I informed him that he was a horrible person to do that to poor Romeo, and then mentioned off-hand that it was mildly offensive that he had freaked out.

"Oh, not in a bad way."

... D=

Needless to say, I then politely informed him that he was going to die.

Friday the professor who lords over the class we have together asked me to give some papers to him, since he had been deathly ill at home all week. (That is what I get for nabbing an extra paper assignment for him on Monday. Stupid, stupid!) I left them on his doormat, since no one was answering the door, then sent him an e-mail and told him to get them before the squirrels or the rain did. A few minutes later, I get a reply: "Thanks stalker lady." I retort maturely: "Jerkface!" and go on about my day.

The roommate eats lunch with us that day, and informs me that he told Romeo that he told me about the "I has a crush" incident. Roommate apparently threatened to kill him, to which his only respose was: "She wants to kill me, too! Do it together and bond over my death!" When I ask after Romeo's health, he says "you know, you seem very concerned for him! Why don't you come over and nurse him better? Maybe make him soup?"
"Actually, I make good soup. From scratch."
"She does," adds Mercutio. There is much shin kicking under the table. Roommate smirks knowingly and ambles off, leaving me and Mercutio to hatch a cunning plan.

When we go to Target to purchase my Roboraptor, we also pick up a nice can of soup. To this soup I attach a label:

Directions for use:
1) Consume
OR
2) Aim at roommate.
Throw vengefully.

When we head off to the campus movies that night, I leave it on his doormat, with no explanation. It also doesn't have my name on it, but I am trusting the collective intelligence of the house to figure it out. While out patrolling this morning, I noticed it was gone. So there are really two options at this point: one, Romeo shows up to class healthy and invigorated; two, roommate shows up with large can-shaped welt on his face.

Though, I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive. Either way, I am hoping it will teach roommate to shut up.

In the meantime, I just have to deal with relentless teasing from my housemates. Is it possible for four people to be some sort of collective Satan?

Fuck, I'm glad I went to college.

"For the record, sea urchins do not make good candles." -Jennifer, my Marine Interactions Prof during lecture today.