Typing with my mouth full could prove to be hazardous to my health, but I haven't updated in a while, so I will now. As you may have heard, I spent last weekend in GR visiting the GF and hanging out with her friends at GVSU. Golly, it was great. Ok, that's enough of the letter G for now. Seriously though, it more fun than a weekend in Tijuana, and without getting robbed by currupt police officers, too (not that I've ever done that). I did make the mistake of going shopping for clothing with Lindsey at one point, though. I jest, it was fun (how could it not be with such company?), and I learned something really valuable: Do you ever wonder why women sometimes act crazy? I figured it out. It's because sometimes they are crazy. No more losing sleep over that one. I did manage to impress her with my uncanny ability to find clothes that were the right size for me without trying anything on. She was amazed (not really). She explained to me that (in more than as many words) the sizing of women's clothing makes absolutely no sense any way you slice it. Apparently she's a Gemini in one store, and a Libra in another, and a Leo in a third, or something like that, where I'm a Virgo anywhere I go. She tried to make it sound reasonable, since women have more significant dimensions to worry about (no complaints here), but we ended up agreeing that the real reason is simply that women in general are emphatically not interested in what size they are, in inches or centimetres or kilograms or pounds or whatever. Makes you wonder why they keep scales in their bathrooms, doesn't it? The funny thing is that even when they've cast aside any and all useful forms of measurement, they will still engage in conversations that go something like this:
Woman 1: "Oh my gosh, you're so skinny! You must be like a Cancer (the zodiac sign, not the disease) or something."
Woman 2: "Well, I'm a Cancer at Littlemisscutesie's (not a real store name), and a Libra at Maybe's (perhaps a real store name)."
Woman 1: "Oh my gosh, I hate you."
Cous: BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!!!
Right. The moral of this story is that I bought shorts, so that the world could save on electrical expenditures associated with lighting their homes. Also, I did not try on said shorts, and they fit me anyways. I'm a Virgo anywhere I go.
I also feel like mentioning that Suzy, one of the bitches I live with (relax, I said bitch, not ho), believes that human beings are walking, talking popsicles, and that this ceases to be funny pretty quickly when one has exposed legs. Gross.