Charlee's slice:
So finals are finished, the quarter is over. Can I just say how much it sucked. My GPA is in jeopardy, and I still managed to screw it up. Nice. I may have to rethink grad school.
I got a few interesting text messages last night. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m torn between thinking it is sweet and thinking it is annoying. Most guys don’t like to admit when they screw up, especially when a certain amount of time has passed allowing them to let it stay buried. Part of me wishes this guy had been able to let it stay buried, but a few St. Paddy’s day drinks turn some fellows into weepy suckers I guess. I appreciate an apology, even one over due. Maybe I would be more excited about it if I weren’t so convinced this other guy I’ve set my sights on may reciprocate an interest in me. I wont know until I get back from spring break, so I guess until then I will see what Texter has to offer. If nothing else, I get a free meal. I do have a feeling I will enjoy his company, if he can learn to not be so hard on himself. I’m kind of hoping I don’t because, lets face it I am rooting for the other guy, but Erin keeps telling me not to put all my eggs in one basket, so I am going to give this guy an honest shot because he seems like a genuinely nice dude.
On another note, Rachel can add baking pie to her long list of exceptional traits.
Others on the list include giving head (so I’m told), telling stories about giving head, writing, painting, and drinking like a fish. Thanks Rach for the amazing strawberry blackberry rhubarb pie, it was delicious. When I get back to Bellingham in two weeks, I will probably even try to finish that last slice that got left in my fridge on accident. It will be worth the food poisoning. Also, watchmen on IMAX, good choice, If you like gigantic blue cock in your face once every five minutes. I personally don’t mind so much.
*pic courtesy of Erika, it is her thoughts on the word "blog"
Rachel’s Slice:
I need to make it clear to all of you how much pain I’m in by writing at the moment. My finals have killed the creative spirit in me and I am taking one for the team in writing this posting. I had two finals on Monday, and then one this afternoon. To give you an idea about the amount of writing that goes into an English final, I’d like to tell you that I woke up in the middle of the night in the wee-hours of Tuesday morning because my right arm was cramped from the tips of my fingers to my elbow. My critical and cultural theory final was a mind-fuck. We were given ten real life situations and asked to apply three separate theorist filters and respond. So, easy enough to respond to Madonna in a feminist fashion—but the one that literally made my jaw drop was this:
“A museum must decide whether or not to do a showing of photographs depicting adults engaging in sexual acts with children. Respond as a psychoanalytic, structuralist, and a new historic critic.”
WHAT THE FUCK??? Anyway, so I hopefully did a bang-up job on that final, as well as my other two finals. I was studying in the library with a couple of classmates today before our *ugh* Women in Lit final. As we were leaving, I was conveniently talking about the Broman’s bear tattoo on his calf when I notice that standing at the top of the main staircase is Mr. Editor himself. I know he saw me, but he didn’t wave, didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge. Once out of earshot(four stairs or so down) I turned to my classmates and said, “That guy in the hat is the Editor.” So we all casually glance up to maybe check out his *tragically* good-looking profile—only to find him watching me walk down the stairs…CREEPER.
In order to celebrate my return home to the family homestead and my finishing of finals, I hung with the Broman this evening. To give the guy credit, I have this tendency to say really horrible things like “I’m still in love with you!” over text-message when I’m drunk. And last night I tried to convince him that Charlee and I are twins separated at birth so he could potentially fulfill the threesome and twin fantasy all together! That he even wants to get anywhere near my crazy is semi-amazing. Well, we’ve been having a good streak lately and tonight was no exception. Let’s just say Broman got a piece of the proverbial Rachel pie.
In closing, I just want to make one remark: I have never given head to get ahead.
XOXO, Rachel
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