Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Um. Okay.

I'm sitting in the library--as in right now--and it is very quiet. But I can't stop laughing.

Three seats down from me there is a girl. With a beard. As in hair flowing from her face. And she's just sitting there, doing homework...with a beard. And no one else seems to notice. Which is why I'm thinking it might just be a hallucination.
I am very tired. 

But, see, I don't think so. She is the only one with a beard, after all. And I first saw it when she started talking on her phone, so I glanced her way--the sudden noise, you know--and then I went back to my homework. And then I looked again. And I kind of stared. And then I mouthed "What?" (sorta like this, especially the last three seconds). And then I just started laughing. But no one else was laughing and it is a library, so I fell to shuddering. And I just can't stop.

Is the world ending?
Am I losing my mind?
Is it just a freakishly femme boy?
Does she not know that she has something red and furry growing on her face?
Is it a disease?
Is it some weird school spirit day?
Maybe it's opposite (sexes) day? But she's wearing a skirt. And make-up. And looking rather normal--excepting that beard of epic proportions. It even matches her hair color.
Why is no one else laughing at this?

More importantly, does she have a Beard card? Because otherwise I'll have to report her to the Honor Code police. Facial hair is illegal.
And it's just a little bit wrong.  
and awkward.
and a bit disturbing. 
especially on a girl. 

I am really questioning reality right now. If I had a picture phone, I would sneak a picture. I really want someone to assure me that this is real life.

And now she is caressing it. Like the beard is her friend.

And I'm still laughing.

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Greatest Game Ever Played

A week ago, someone introduced Melissa and I to the License Plate game. We have a fixation with punching each other, so this was just a natural progression. And it's very simple: when you see an out-of-state license plate, you beat them in the arm. It's fabulous. I think it's the answer to all of life's problems. It's like I always say, "when in doubt, punch the crap out of someone."
Okay, so I don't always say that. But I will now. Because that's just a great motto. 

Anyways, it just so happens we live in a "diverse" place where people from "all over" come and live. Or at least to go to church. So, on Sunday, coming out of church in the not-so-bright sunshine, I needed to punch someone. So we got raucous. Our roommate and neighbor were in the car and they didn't play. 
Actually, I don't think that they understood 
what was going on for a while. 
Poor souls. 

We were screaming out the classics, "IDAHO!" "CALIFORNIA!" and punching each other severely. We would reach back and forth to slap each other across the arm. She was driving and I was in the back, so I guess I had the upper hand, reaching forward instead of flailing behind. And I was getting annoyed by her constant thrashing, so I grabbed her arm and beat the answers into it. 

And then...the moment that redefined everything I believed in.... 

On our slow traverse through the parking lot, with all of us laughing and Melissa whining about a dead arm and people looking at us funny and each of us screaming out states and bruising the white flesh. It was as we came to the end of the parking lot--the gold mine of pummeling-excuses--and we were breathless, eager, stalking the landscape with our eyes, hoping to catch one great finale. And we saw it. We saw it and screeched out at the same time: "NORTH DAKOTA!"   

O. M. G. So it does exist.