hiatus and heresy

according to diaryland it's been like 43 days since i last updated. and the reason for that is simple, really. by the time i tell pat, bryan, and jackie the exact same story 3 separate times, the last thing i want to do is write a diary entry. you know?

anyway, tuesday was the start of second semester, and so far it's been a mixed bag. on one hand, not one of my professors or TAs has given me a single reason to dislike them. on the other hand, it looks as though i will have like 10 times more homework than i originally anticipated.

breaking news! but first, backstory. last semester shortly after school started, jackie and i both pitched in and split the cost of a modest mini-fridge. that very mini-fridge is now at the foot of the ladder to jackie's loft bed. and inside the mini-fridge is a tray. and not an ice cube tray. i don't know what it's for, actually. on my first day back after winter break, i noticed offhandedly that the tray was filled with water, so naturally i left it there. i had absolutely no idea where the water had come from, but it wasn't hurting anybody, so whatever. since then the water has frozen solid, so now jackie and i have a mystery tray of mystery ice* on our hands.

*the ice is a mystery because previous attempts to keep ice and ice cream frozen have failed miserably.

earlier jackie smelled pot smoke coming from one of the boys' rooms on the 2nd floor, so i suggested we slip the sheet of ice underneath the pot smoker's door, whoever he was. he'd probably spend like 2 hours just staring at it, only to find a puddle in its wake after he sobered up. then he'd be left wondering if it ever existed in the first place.

but alas, it was not meant to be. jackie wasn't sure exactly which room the pot smoke was coming from, and it's not worth the risk, especially because we wouldn't get to see the end result firsthand.

today in japanese class we devoted a good 10 minutes to the discussion of manin densha - trains that are so packed, middle-aged businessmen keep their hands above their shoulders or over their faces at all times so as not to be mistook for a pervert. i raised my hand and explained that at times i liked manin densha, because having bodies pressed up against me on all sides was comforting after going months and months without a single hug. my japanese professor looked as though she was about to cry, let me tell you. she covered her face with her hands and repeated the words "how pitiful!" again and again through her fingers and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

i said, "nakanai de kudasai!" please don't cry.

and she said yet again, "kawai sou ni!" how pitiful.

no one else said a word.

on a happier note, jackie and i are considering leaving the slab of ice on a staircase somewhere in the dorm in the hope that some poor soul won't notice it and will slip and fall and die. jackie added, "we should mop up the blood with a rag and hang it up on the house bulletin board. or write a message on the bulletin board with blood that says in big letters, 'don't fuck with us.'"

but before that, when i brought up possibly dropping the mystery ice onto a random passerby's head, she immediately rejected the idea because "we'd get sued." but if we merely murdered somebody, no one would bother looking into the matter further, much less filing a lawsuit, because who hasn't heard of a freak falling-on-a-sheet-of-ice-left-in-a-heated-stairwell accident?

and now i give you: a soon-to-be-suicidal baby donkey wearing a sweater, a baby monkey hugging a plush goose, and hands down the best penny arcade news post ever.