December 4, 2004
So I went to my last class of the day, and it was okay except this happened: It was the last class of the semester and we had a pizza party, but he still insisted on having a class discussion about freedom in early America.
Two students had differing opinions and while the second student was going on and explaining his standpoint, I think I was zoned out wondering how vegans can have a variety of dishes if they only eat fruits, vegetables and grains. And my professor saw me in my zoned-out state and decided to be really mean and say, "So Deborah, which student's opinion do you agree with?" Well, luckily I am really good at thinking on my feet. So I said, "Wellllll, I'd have to say Devon's." Then I proceeded to say probably the most unintelligent thing I've said all year, but at least I said something. It was enough for the professor to say, "So you're saying..." and free me. I was a little ticked off because he totally did that on purpose.
The answer to the above question is tofu, I later found out.
January 16, 2005
I came to S's for dinner, canasta championship and to do my laundry. I usually just toss all my clothes in the washer out of my hamper, so I'm dumping all my clothes and S says, "Are you sure you don't want to separate them?" and I said, "I always just dump them." So we start it and a few minutes later I remember that I brought a school book to read while S watched football.
Well I go to look for my book in the pocket of my hamper and it's not there. Then the sudden shock came over me that I dumped it in the washer, so I said, "S, did you see my book in the car?" and his dad is like, "haha...she probably is washing it" and I said, "I think I am!!"
So S stops the washer and I roll up my sleeves and start going through the soaking wet laundry. After a couple minutes of feeling around I feel it and pull it out. Dripping wet -- poor Sitting Bull. I have a project due next Tuesday on it. S's dad put it on a hanger and hung it out to dry on the porch. So now I can't read it while the football game is on...so I'm writing about it.
February 13, 2005
Yes, it is true. Being shot with marshmallows (from an air-pressure launcher), a former male-dominated sport, has finally been opened to women. Last night, it's founding members (Katie, Breanna, and Deborah) paved the way for all women to be shot with marshmallows. Here's a little blurb from one of the founding members herself, Deborah:
"Well, I don't really know why I did it--I guess I was just overcome with feminism and I thought, 'hey, women should do this too--are we so weak that we can't be shot with marshmallows?!' Haha, just kidding, I'm not a feminist. I really just did it because Breanna did. It is true though, to be in our club, you have to be hit below the belt, because all three of us were--no matter if the shooters were aiming for the abs. And be sure to wear plenty of protection above the stomach. But all in all, I'm glad I did it."
Well, there you go folks--straight from the horses' mouth. The club has named themselves Katdebre -- a female version of the well-known men's marshmallow club, Gaeshuckbushtodd, a name created using the last names of the four founding members
That is our breaking news. And remember -- you heard it here first!
April 24, 2005
I'm supposed to be studying and writing essays, but I really don't want to. So I'm going to write a poem right here right now. Spontaneously off the top of my head.
Popcorn in my hair
I don't like to share
Kept it all to myself
Then in came my roomie
She looked kinda gloomy
So I said, "Here, help yourself."
That's my attempt at a limerick. I used the syllables in Little Miss Muffet to guide my writing. Now that that took up enough time, I guess I'll go write three essays on the Cold War.
Ha, I hope this lightened your day as it did mine.