Things have been a bit hectic lately and so I haven't posted anything in a while. Things are going to continue to be hectic at least for the next two weeks, so instead of cooking up new material for all of you sitting on the edges of your seats (self-deprecating smile here), I'm going to post some things I wrote a while back. Starting with this:
adventures at the library, part one.
So I went to the library on Thursday to finish the (very rough) first draft of my entire thesis. I found the perfect corner on the third floor—a corner where if you sit very still the energy efficient lights will turn off and nobody will bother you... well, nobody except for a barefoot guy in a green shirt with a strange habit of pacing the entire length of the library at a surprising frequency. I had been in my perfect corner for about fifteen minutes when I realized I had no Chapstick. This was a problem for two reason: (1) I am addicted to Chapstick, and (2) I am addicted to Chapstick more than ever thanks to a recent and unfortunate pizza burn. I contemplated being hard core and trying to break the addiction for the next six hours. I contemplated repeatedly applying absurd amounts of the berry-colored lipstick that happened to be in my bag (think Ali Lohan). Then I contemplated packing up my stuff, walking back to my office, climbing up six flights of stairs, grabbing the Chapstick, climbing back down six flights of stairs, walking back to library, and unpacking my stuff in the exact same corner. And this, my friends, is exactly what I did.
Moral of the story: Chapstick is to me is like crack to Amy Winehouse. I gotta have it, even if it almost kills me.
--buelsy (addicted and okay with it)
2 comments:
You know, if you had been wearing a fleece hoodie you could have put your chapstick in the pocket.
Amy wine house is addicted to beating up her husband. On a more ironic note, she is also addicted to chap stick.
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