Monthly Archives: September 2011

I Don’t Always Speak Spanish, but When I Do, I Prefer to Double Major

The curtain opens on a Roman forum. MARY, dressed in a fetching lady-toga, enters stage right to cheers from the IGNORANT MASSES.

MARY: I am an English major.

Cries of surprise from the masses. An abacus is hurled at MARY, who dodges it.

MARY: Yes, shocking I know. The blogger is an English major. But friends… Romans… Internet People, I have an announcement to make. I am now double majoring.

More cries from the masses.

GIRL WITH LONG HAIR (speaking from the crowd): In English and Engineering? Have you seen the light?

MARY: Umm…

GIRL: Calculus!

MARY: No.

Another abacus is hurled.

MARY: Cut that out! No, I have not come before you today to announce that am I majoring in Engineering. Have you any idea what kind of disaster that would be?

THE MASSES: No! We’re unwashed peasantry! We’re not even sure what a major is!

MARY: Quiet down, ye masses. I will inform you why I can not be an engineer. I can not be an engineer, because my method of getting things done mainly involves saying “Eh, that’s pretty close…ish.” And that does not work when building skyscrapers.

Nods of agreement from the masses.

MARY: Now, my people, I could brag about how many hours I came into college with, but instead I will just tell you how quickly I would graduate if I had a major and a minor like a normal person. I would spend 2 and a half years at college. Total.

An OBNOXIOUS MAN enters stage left.

MAN: You know you’ve graduated college too early when the law prevents you buying champagne to celebrate.

MARY: Um, yes. Thank you, obnoxious man. Though I would like to point out that, under 21 or not, most recent graduates can’t purchase champagne as it costs money.

MAN: No problem!

OBNOXIOUS MAN exits stage left.

MARY: Yes. So. Ahem. I have decided to double major in Spanish and English. However, my first love will always be English, and I continue to think of myself as primarily an English major for reasons including the simple fact that I feel I have more in common with my fellow English majors than with Spanish majors. Thank you, and good day.

Wild applause from the masses.

Curtain.

So what do you think, Internet? Will this combination of majors assure my starvation? WELL I DON’T CARE. But feel free to comment anyway.

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I Conquer the Evil Zombie Spider

Hello, Internet! Sorry it’s been so long- I’ve been doing a little thing called not failing all my classes. Not to worry, I’m back now.

So, many of you probably know that I recently started college. If you didn’t know that, don’t worry. I’m not mad. Just don’t let it happen again. Anyway, going to college comes with all sorts of responsibilities, such as feeding yourself and judging whether or not an outfit is acceptable. (Hint: top hats are permissible, but only if worn with confidence.) Most of the responsibilities are not too bad, even if doing laundry does wear on the nerves a little. However, one thing that I absolutely hate is having to deal with bugs, especially big ones with death in their horrible, horrible eyes.

One such beastie appeared the other day while I was in the shower. It was a giant spider, and I can only speculate that it came through the mysterious hole in the floor of my dorm. Ah, the joys of college life. The shower, I have learned, is the worst place to encounter a murderous arachnid, as the water in our shower drains so slowly that, had I squished it, its remains would probably have just swirled around the drain instead of washing away. Disgusting.

Not knowing what to do (I’m only a freshman!) I trained the shower head on it and hoped to somehow flood it out. To my horror, all it did was sort of curl up and look drowned. Assuming it was dead, I resumed my shower with its carcass in the corner. I know, despicable, but I have problems with bugs. And yes, an arachnid is a bug. Because I said so.

I had just gotten dressed and was going to dispose of the spider properly (“properly” here meaning “in the trash can”) when I looked over and saw, to my utter horror, that the spider had risen from the dead. It had gotten up, and, as I watched, scurried away as though nothing had ever happened. I can only assume it returned to its lair deep in the underworld.

My foe having vanished, I went about my day as though nothing had happened. (It’s a coping mechanism.) Well, until later that night, when my room mate went to take a shower. I was sitting at the computer when she burst out of the bathroom and asked “Are you good with spiders?” Not sure what to make of this, I said something to the effect of “Huh?” to which she replied “There is a HUGE spider in the shower.”

Oh no. Wearing tennis shoes and a determined expression, I ventured cautiously into the bathroom. There, clicking its pincers, was my foe from that morning, standing there as if to say “We meet again, mortal.” “Eeep,” I said, and tried to squish the foul creature. I stomped once- and missed. My quarry darted out of the path of my shoe. The second time, it was not so lucky. It turns out that even evil zombie spiders are not impervious to the repeated stompings of a distressed college freshman.

Disgusted, I looked down at my work. It wouldn’t have been so bad if some of the spider’s legs hadn’t come off on the bottom of my shoe. Thankfully, what my room mate lacks in spider bravery she more than makes up for in cleanliness, and she wiped the floor of spider guts while I shakily scraped off my shoe.

So, to sum it up:

Mary: 1

Dorm perils: 0

Bring it.

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