I'm accusing this squirrel of subversion...

"You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion, or challenge the ideology of a violet." - Hal Borland

So, it's officially been forever since I last posted. I need a stronger following to remind me to post. I hear that people get pretty upset when Ashton & Amanda forget to post.

Anyway, I do actually have a really funny incident to relate to y'all. Well, I think it's funny at least. Maybe you can at least give me a sympathy laugh.

I tripped over a squirrel.

No, really. I tripped over a squirrel.

It all happened one day a few weeks ago when Anna and Anna and I were walking around campus after dinner. Someone told us that you can burn a relatively good amount of calories by walking for an hour. Therefore, we decided to take a turn around good old PC after eating at GDH, which means we probably didn't eat that much to begin with.

Either way, we were walking down by the Douglas House and Bailey dorm. Anna was kicking sticks and random things on the ground as we walked. I was talking about something when, all of the sudden, my foot slammed into something, and I almost fell to my knees in the middle of the sidewalk. My first thought was that Anna had kicked up a brick or a piece of concrete from the sidewalk that had fallen in my way. Just as I was about to exact my verbal revenge, I saw the squirrel.

Running away from the scene of the crime.

He had run out in front of me at just the right time to receive a severe kick to the flank and have his head knocked against the back of my other foot.

That little sucker didn't even stick around to see if I was ok.

Immediately, I started screaming, "Oh, my gosh! I just tripped over a SQUIRREL!!! Did you see that?!" I think that the entire campus knew what had happened. Meanwhile, Anna Pardew was about to pee herself from laughing so hard. Then, I started wondering about what would have happened if it had bitten me. I would have had to get rabies shots! I'm pretty sure that those things come in a series of eight too...

So, of course, we then had to discuss the merits of getting the shot in your abdomen or your butt. Anna chose the butt, since "your stomach is the core of your whole body!" Stupid Zoomba fiend. I said that since you sit on your butt on a regular basis, I figured it would be better to get the shots in the stomach.

That way, you don't have to keep jumping up and grabbing a cheek every time you sit down in class.

Next time, I'll keep my eyes to my own table

The following encounter was bound to happen eventually.

Anne, Anna, and I decided to get together for lunch while we were home for spring break since we all live in the same area. So yesterday, we decided to meet at Panera's in Harbison.

We were having a good time, hanging out, talking about our breaks.

Checking out guys.

Just kidding, but obviously they came up in conversation. Eventually, a guy came in who looked to be about our age carrying his Bible and some text books. We acknowledged that he was attractive, but he had a ring on. However, we also decided that it could be a purity ring, especially since he was carrying a Bible and both Anna and I wear one.

We were doing our typical thing, giggling and occasionally looking over at the guy. When we get up to throw our trash away, the guy comes over to the trash can. You won't believe what he said:

"I know y'all were looking at me. Next time, please tell me that my zipper is down!"

610: You're the 8th person from last night to text me this morning and ask if I'm ok.

So, I had the most dramatic weekend ever.

And I mean ever.

EVER.

It all started out when my awesome cousin came to visit because she had been invited to a semi-formal by a friend from high school. She's kind of dramatic just in conversation, but this was only a preview of the hilarity that was to ensue.

Once she arrived, I gave her the tour of the "apartment," followed by the hall bath. Oh, the adventures of a hall bath.

As she was getting ready, she was telling me about how she wasn't really excited about being here for this function and that she wasn't really friends with her date, but had felt obligated to go with him. We worked out a plan for her to call for rescue if necessary, went over a few self-defense moves, and strategically planned for her to leave her stuff with me so that she would be forced to return to my room that night. I then escorted her to the library (of all places) to meet her date for the evening.

Anna and I then decided it would be a good idea to attend the Vagina Monologues. Hmmm. Personally, I don't like to talk about "down there," nor do I like to scream the c-word aloud with fifty other women and a smattering of "men." Again I say, hmmm.

After re-composing ourselves (and collecting what was left of our dignity), we got ready and headed out to Fraternity Court for the ZTA/ΠΚΦ Beach Party mixer. After standing around while the band finished setting up for 30 minutes, the party commenced. Except that Anna and I had to take turns checking people in the door, as well as checking for signs of general wastyfaceness.

Considering the party a success after only one fight between the boys at our party and some brothers of a different frat, as well as a showdown between two opponents in the race for a seat in student government, we decided to head home for some non-beach wear.

Meanwhile, I haven't heard from Mary in a while, so, naturally, I'm a little concerned. I texted her, and she informed me that her date had professed his undying love for her and cried, making the evening a general success. She informed me that she was, in fact, staying with him and his friends and would text me in the morning.

Anna and I then headed over to visit some guy friends of ours, only to turn around after learning that they were having a "boys' night" and we would look stupid going in there, only to be begged to come back and hang out. Therefore, we walked back to where the party was at. However, Josh apparently desired some other activity that would provide more mental stimulation that they game that Anna described as a "mix between FarmVille and Risk." What the...?! So, Josh and I headed out to Fraternity Court for some fun and frivolity.

Once we reached our destination (the back of Sigma Nu, to be exact), we were informed by a very surly Sigma Nu that we don't know that the party is closed until midnight, so we'd better not be thinking of coming in! It was approximately 12:15. Deciding not to press our luck, we forged ahead to the ΠΚΦ house, which was still full of sand and some strange plant that the band member compared to "the reefer that grew everywhere when I was in 'Nam." Nice.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out where exactly Mary is. I haven't heard from her in a while (other than a consistent stream of texts begging to go to the Chinese buffet the next day), and I can't seem to find her amongst the other revelers. I text her, and she informs me that she is not drunk, only awkward and that she has caused a girl to black out. Again, general success of an evening. Also, she and her date never made it to the function, which explains why I can't find her.

Josh and I proceed to the Pike house, where I meet up with a few friends. After a while, we move on to the Sigma Nu house, dodge the surly brother no one knows, and commence to having a good time.

Until Mary texts me to inform me that I should probably come get her and she should probably come back to my room.

Josh and I set out immediately to rescue Mary from impending doom. She informs us of where she is, and we soon pull up outside. I got out of the car and hovered awkwardly near the porch, listening for signs of disturbance and/or gunfire. When she doesn't come out after a while, I go back to the car where Josh is waiting. As soon as I get back to the car, the front door is thrown open, and this guy asks if he can help us with something. P.S. This guy informed me the other day that he is in fact a Communist. I cautiously ask Mr. Socialist if Mary is inside. He informs me that there aren't any girls inside. Hmmm. Mary is, in fact, a girl. Then, a guy wearing only a bathrobe appears in the doorway asking what's going on. So I ask him if Mary is there. "Oh, you mean Beth?" "No, her name is Mary." "Well, we have a Martha." "I'm looking for Mary." "She's not here."

I apologize and get back into the car, and Josh starts to pull out of the drive. Suddenly, my phone rings, and Mary is shouting, "No! Don't go! I'm here! They're lying! I'm here! Don't leave me! I can't get out!" We immediately race back up to the house, and Mary come streaking out, her bag trailing behind her and her makeup smeared all over her face. She leaps into the car and screams, "You saved me!," and we roar out of the place like the Bolsheviks are coming (pun intended).

Later, over stuffed crust pizza, she tells us the whole story of the evening, including all of the tears, being seen nearly naked by a probable homosexual, a game of never-have-I-ever, and making a girl pass out. The woeful tale is actually pretty funny after the fact, and we laugh, watch some Olympics, and go to bed.

Mary wakes me the next morning with the following text: "Wake upppp! I need food!"

And yes, we went to the Chinese buffet and ate our weight in lo mein and fortune cookies.


Quote of the weekend: "Then I found out he's an Eagle scout. That might be a deal breaker." - Mary

It's kinda tough getting older...

When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to grow up. I thought that once I became a teenager, nothing would hurt me anymore. I looked forward to the days when a scrape on the knee would draw no more tears than a mosquito bite.

Well, I'm officially older. And you know what? Things hurt worse than they did when I was a child. Yes, knee scrapes come along far less often and are far less significant than they once were, but the hurts and disappointments that come with age last longer and leave a far deeper scar. I have to worry about pain from more than just falling off my bike or getting a shot from the doctor. My heart can and has been broken, and that's something that a simple bandaid just can't fix.

Also, I believed that I would fall in love in high school or college and get married right after graduation at the age of 21 or 22. Then, I assumed I would start having babies at 23. I never imagined that I would celebrate my 21st birthday having never been asked on a date or kissed.

That's right folks, you're looking at possibly the oldest perpetually single girl since Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed. And I like to think that I was cooler than her in high school. Maybe I'm wrong.

How does that happen? How did I get so old and not even realize it? When did I get too old to play with Barbies? When was the last time that I watched Barney, and who decided that I should grow up and move on? When was the last time that coloring was an acceptable activity during classtime? How did I finally find out that my parents really don't know everything and can't protect me for the rest of my life? What was the last thing I said to that friend, and did I know that I would never see them again?

I know that everyone has to grow up eventually, but it seems that the older I get, the harder I cling to my childhood and the days when it didn't matter if that kid on the playground called me fat because I knew that I would go home and my Daddy would still love me.

And when did my Daddy's love stop being enough?

Why didn't anyone ask me if I was ready to grow up? Why didn't I have more of a choice in the matter?

When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to grow up, but, now that I have, I'd give anything to be five again.

If this were Little Miss Sunshine, I'd be screaming the f-bomb...

I have horrible vision. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I am not, in fact, perfect. My vision sucks so bad that when the doctor asked me what was at the top of the eye chart today, I told him that it was probably an "E," simply because that's what all eye charts have at the top. I wonder if the giant "E" stands for eye chart...

Anyway, he then blocks the entire chart except for the line he wants me to read. On the first line, he asks me what I see. I read off the letters that I see, feeling pretty good about my answer.

Until he says, "So, that line's pretty blurry for you then." Guess so.

He then proceeds to the next line and asks me to read those letters.

"What letters?"

"The letters on this line that I'm showing you, Miss Ulmer."

"Well, there must be a mistake. I don't see any letters."

"Hmmm."

(PS, you're super hot, Mr. Eyedoctor. Darn that wedding ring on your finger. At least, I think you're hot. Oh, wait. I'm not wearing my glasses. Hmmm, you're not really all that attractive after all. Well, congratulations on your marriage then.)

My mom then proceeds to regale us with the story of my first visit to the eye doctor when I was in the third grade. We had brought my little brother, who had just learned the alphabet, mind you. The doctor had asked me to read from the eye chart (I should have that darn thing memorized by now...). Obviously, I missed some letter since I did not have my glasses yet. My brother, instead of wondering if he had confused these particular letters, turned to my mom, looked back at the chart, then turned back to my mom

"She can't read too good. Mimi must be dumb."


Roommate quote of the day: "Look! Goats! Baaah!"

Dadgum Hollywood...

So, since I've been home, I've been spending part of my time watching Hallmark/Lifetime Christmas movies. You know, the kind where the girl had her heart broken by some guy and, all of the sudden, some guy shows up just in time for Christmas to sweep her off her feet. Yeah, those movies.

Well, watching these movies has made me realize that I'm the girl in the movie. At least partially. Secretly, deep down inside, I'm waiting for some guy to show up and just make things better and heal my broken heart. However, at the same time, I'm also the girl sitting here, yelling at my tv, "This doesn't happen in real life! Stop lying to me!"

As much as I want to believe that this will happen to me one day and I wish that it would even happen this Christmas, I still don't believe that this business actually happens to real people. Then, I also have to confront my belief that God won't give me a guy like that because I want him so badly. I have to confront my secret belief that God doesn't really want to give me the things that I want. It's like I believe that he's waiting to take away everything that makes me happy and is keeping this relationship that I want more than anything away from me to keep me unhappy.

Obviously, when I think more realistically, I know that God will never keep anything from me if it is not for my own good. I might not understand His reasoning, but I don't have to. I have to learn to trust His judgment and realize that He knows what is best for me. Also, I can trust in a God who did not create me to be completed and satisfied by a man. As much as I trust men in my life like my father and Josh, I also recognize that any human man will let me down sometimes. Luckily for me, and you of course, God will never let me down, even when I do not trust Him.

Making babies. Except not.

Thank Jesus that final exams are over. I think that I managed to outdo myself this year and only studied for approximately two hours for my finals. However, I did write several papers, which definitely took me more than two hours...

However, I am a professional procrastinator. Ask anyone at PC. No, really. Ask them. I'm kind of a legend. Therefore, I thought I'd share some of my favorite techniques.

This is the baby that I will one day have with Aaron Marsh:



She's definitely going to need glasses one day.

Solitaire is also always a good choice:



Is it bad that I have one of the ten highest scores...




Looking up potential tattoos is also one of my top choices:



Then, there's always dressing up...



Roommate quote of the day: "Whaaaat? I have a faaaace?"