I've cut my nails and painted them black. I really like the way they look right now. I'd be perfectly happy if I had many nail polishers so I could paint my nails in different color each day. It would be so cool. Alecia started playing some kind of Ninja game on Facebook. She informed me that Ninjas and Samurai aren't exactly fond of each other. I tried finding out why, but Google failed me this time. Speaking of Ninjas, they'd become quite popular on Facebook. Numerous applications, groups, fan pages and quizzes. Concerning quizzes and applications, their popularity is at its highest during exam time. Alecia rules them all. When she knows she has to study, she will create a mess in order to clean it as to avoid studying. After every last speck of dust is removed from our apartment, she will then calmly sit down and play all the possible games on Facebook and solve stupid quizzes. I understand her completely, I know it can be troublesome to resume with your life without knowing what kind of Gypsy you are, how big is your penis or what object you will have inserted up your ass by the end of the day.
I posted that question about the Samurai and the Ninjas on Yahoo! answer page. I got couple of replies. The Samurai apparently hate the deceit and treachery that Ninjas implore; it goes against their code of honor. Plus, Samurai hate that Ninjas look cooler. Thank you, Yahoo! folks, for helping me unveil the truth.
Another random thought; Blair had recently made an outstanding analogy by saying that having sex with someone who has a small penis was very much like playing basketball with a tennis ball (a/n: I don't think about penises as often as these notes would suggest. Additional a/n: Yes, I do.).
Switching from penises to a completely different, non-related topic - I just remembered that in one of my previous posts I had mentioned having an evil twin. Well, May and I have evil twins. There are two students of Croatian language who are probably two least popular woman to have studied at our college. Ever. Okay. During exam time, friendliness is expected between fellow students, even between those people who cannot stand each other on a daily bases. Nobody is agile or eager enough to prepare materials for a certain test on their own, that's why then we like people we normally despise. We find a way to become useful to each other. Our evil twins, on the other hand, are as useful during this exam period as a one legged man in an ass kicking competition. Selfishly do they keep all the materials, solutions and answers to themselves, while the rest of us mortals struggle to get something useful. I'm also selfish in a way. I only hand out my materials to people who know how to appreciate the gesture. There's nothing wrong with that, right?
Anyway, our evil twins are Babka and George. I was once asked to name at least 3 things I liked about Babka. For starters, it took me about 20 minutes to produce 2 things and I couldn't possibly come up with the third one. I said: "I like that she doesn't live anywhere near me, so I don't often run into her. Also, I like the fact that she and I study only English language together, because I think I would most likely apply for a gun if she studied Pedagogy as well." Two things we have in common are big boobs and intensive perspiration. Her greatest wish is to move to Russia and on one of our last classes she mentioned a possibility of going to Poland next semester to resume with her studying there. The moment she uttered those words, I experienced a faint orgasm. I am willing to do anything to help her achieve that goal. I mean it, absolutely anything. I will kill, maim and slaughter if I have to. If she bumps into financial problems, I am seriously willing to organize a charity concert where I will personally embarrass myself on stage while singing karaoke in a gorilla suit just to gather enough money to mail her ass to Poland.
May's twin is a bit more tolerable. The two of them are equally competitive, wear colorful clothes and share that same streak of perfectionism. George is the type of student who will, after eight arduous hours of classes, at the point where people are prepared to trample and murder anyone standing on their way towards the classroom exit, draw the stupidest question out of her ass, direct it at the professor, thus extending our class for additional 20 to 25 minutes. She's also the one who chose "Twilight" for her book report. It surprised me. She's too smart for this dimension and still, she chose to present that crap of a book. She explained it by saying that she enjoyed keeping up with the latest pop culture. Alright, a good explanation/excuse. Still, I hate her.
"Blair writes poems. This is something I was unaware of. She writes them in English. She also mentioned that back in high school, she was excellent at composing haiku poems. I never cherished poetry enough to attempt creating it. To me, poetry is very demanding and limiting. I admire poets because of their ability to place all those thoughts, ideas and emotions within the lines of a single poem. I don't think I'd be very good at it. My thoughts are too blooming and overwhelming to be contained within a poem. For me, writing a poem about my life would be like trying to stuff a giraffe into a fridge. Poets have to maintain a certain sense and rhythm within frames of their work, minding way too many limiting factors; verses, rhyme and length. I lack patience to do so. Now, if writing a poem could be considered a struggling challenge, you can only imagine how I would define writing a haiku - as challenging and upsetting as trying to stuff an egg back into a chicken.
I'll definitely stick to prose. However, I might ask Blair to write a poem about my love life. Seeing the path it's currently trailing, I might even get a soap opera about it. That leprechaun is still making no attempts of contacting me. Something smells fishy about this entire situation and I don't mean his lover's aging vagina. Yes, I'm that bitter. Get off my fucking case.
I just remembered my first mobile phone. It was a Motorola. It was so huge in size and weight that it could probably cause a concussion if it landed on somebody's head. Plus, it had an antenna. My favorite mobile phone was a Nokia 3310. It was the most popular model; everyone had it. It was the perfect mobile phone; if it landed on solid ground it fell apart into precisely 4 parts which could easily be puzzled back together. If an iPhone experienced such a blow, it would probably burst apart into millions of pieces and it would be cheaper to buy a new phone rather than trying to patch it up. Nowadays, mobile phones are graced with vast number of applications and programs people don't normally need or know how to use. I think a very useful addition to a state-of-the-art mobile phone would be a breathalyzer. It's just what every modern boozer needs. I, for one, would find that very useful. For example, before you start drinking, you activate it and it doesn't allow you to send messages if it doesn't find you sober enough. Major catastrophes and embarrassments would be gallantly avoided.
During that last drinking marathon, I was encouraged to send Chain a message. It was a simple message, well typed, asking him if he planned to go to an upcoming concert. To my utter surprise, a reply arrived rather quickly and it wasn't completely negative. He suggested that he might think about it if he had more information about when and where. After that, I kept muttering that this plan would fail and that he wouldn't be accompanying me, but Alecia madly claimed that he would. This harbored a bet. The person who lost would have to buy a bottle of tequila. After this last Saturday when Chain completely blew me off, I deleted his number from my address book, to avoid sending him any messages. I know his number enough to recognize it if he miraculously chose to contact me, but insufficiently enough to type it in and send a drunken message.
Yeah, we most likely won't talk ever again."
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