Friday, February 14, 2014

miss america and valentine's day

Today is Valentine's Day. I am not a hater of the day, as so many are, but I am  not a celebrator of the day either.

Unless you count buying the man some chocolates and eating cupcakes alone in bed as celebrating...

It has been brought to my attention that I don't blog anymore. Although, this is simply not true, it is painfully true all the same. I haven't blogged in eons and I blame the university. The man would tsk tsk me for saying that, he doesn't care for me putting blame where it does not belong. He would say I did it to myself. He might be right but I dare you to challenge my PMS self with such a proclamation on this day and then make an attempt to get away with your life.

Go for it, I dare you to try.

You see, I am riddled with PMS right now and not making much sense. Also, the world might be coming to an end because I can't see past the cupcakes and the raging hormones.

It will pass. It will pass. It will pass.

So yesterday, as I was PMSing all over the halls of the university campus, I discovered I have a favourite type of student. She is female. And she is ridiculous. She carried with her all the paraphernalia a typical university student might need. Like a back pack. But she also carries with her another bag. It is the size of Africa and I can't even possibly imagine what she has hiding in there.

Until I look at her face and hair, that is. She is Miss America. Or so she must wish to be. For her hair is perfect. Long and curly and flowing. Wait, strike that. It is not flowing. It is an immovable force. One akin to a helmet.

He skin is flawless, her makeup done to perfection. And also, no less that 31 centimetres thick. Her head circumference is astronomical and nowhere near what it would normally be without all that big hair and layers and layers of makeup.

You see, when I go home and do my homework and then my life (for that is the order these things are happening this semester) I sometimes take a study break and ponder that bag that is as big as Africa. What is in there, I wonder to myself. Africa is a really really big place. So a bag that is as big as it is a really really big bag.

What is in the bag? Is there really enough hair product and makeup in the world to fill it? I mean, don't forget, she has her backpack. I know what is in my backpack so I am making assumptions as to what is in hers. But what is in the bag that is as big as Africa? What goeth in there??

And more importantly, why? She already looks done to the nines (that's the saying, right?) Why lug all that extra stuff around with you all day long? Why do this to yourself? Why? Why? Why? This might be the most important thing I have yet to learn at university.

The other day I learned how to use commas and apostrophes so there really isn't much left.

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