I'm out of toothpaste. (sarcasm font)

Sara: Hey.
Me: Hey there.
Sara: 'sup
Me: Studying in the lobby with awkward couples.
Sara: YEEESSSS!!!!!!
Me: Your enthusiasm is inspiring. I think Jessie and I are now going out by default.
Sara: Going out....?
Me: We had to complete the Vegas marriage circle. Obviously.
Sara: Ah. Lesbian. Sweeeeet dude....
Me: Basically. Is this against the honor code?
Sara: ....Let's say no.
Me: Oh good. We wouldn't want to do anything scandalous.
Sara: Never! *gasp*
Me: I resent your insinuation that we are anything but model citizens.
Sara: Well, we were late to FHE...I'm pretty sure that's the worst thing we've ever done though.
Me: Have we ever been on time...to anything?
Sara: I was on time to dinner once. **
Me: I aspire to be you someday.
Sara: I know. It was only a matter of time.
Me: Because you just have that effect on people?
Sara: Now you understand.

**Commentary by Jessie: "How can you be on time to dinner???? It's not a scheduled thing!!! I don't understand!!!" As I am typing this, Marina is smerfing up in fits of laughter. She is clutching her stomach because of said fits. Would you like to know what said fits are about? Marina was worried no one would get the extreme sarcasm in this conversation so Sara suggested having a sarcasm font. Marina's retort what was, "I would always use that font! 'Hey Jessie, do you want to go to dinner?'" Katie proceeded to sit there and think it over trying to understand the sarcasm in it...until she realized that that was the whole point of it...Oh look, Marina's back in fits of laughter...

Why we can never get anything done

We've started a new trend. Like planking, but different.
We call it "window-stuffing."
Observe.

Then, Jessie had to get creative. Instead of just getting up into the window, she proved her superiority by smerfing all her limbs into the small space. Naturally, we wouldn't be outdone.

It takes skill, but I got it....eventually.

It was hard work.

Katie never did get all the way into the window....

So, if you are ever walking by Stover Hall and see strange things in the windows, just rest assured there are homework assignments needing to be done. Thus, the act of window-stuffing.

yelling at a cop isn't illegal... right?

because if it is, i'm in trouble.

last night was a big basketball game. i went out with leah and marina, and when i came back, all the spots in our parking lot were full because of all the jerks who stole our parking for the game. as i circled, i became increasingly angry and aggressive, especially in passing people who were parked in non parking spots that made it difficult for me to drive through the lots.

on my last circuit of the lot, i came around a bend where a large truck was obnoxiously stopped in the middle of the road. not in the middle of his lane- in the middle. of the road. and not only was this jerk obstructing traffic, but his brights were on, which made it even more difficult to maneuver around him.

by this point, i was so smerfed up because i couldn't park ANYwhere, that i threw my arms up and started yelling things at this guy from inside my car. he was out, walking around the side of his car, and threw his arms up at me too and started yelling at me. i finally got around the nose of his truck... and was able to see the university police logo on the side of his door. then, looking back, i noticed he was in a police uniform.

i yelled at a cop tonight, folks. THAT'S why you shouldn't drive angry... you do stupid things like make angry gestures at authority figures, and then park in the dairy queen parking lot because you're afraid he'll hunt you down and ticket you and send you to jail. true story.

There might be vampires in this post. Possibly.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are now several weeks into the semester, and you know what that means. Cookies, you ask? No. Don't be ridiculous. (Okay, fine. I'm willing to share my cookies. Actually I'll pay you to eat some of my cookies. That's a lie; I won't. Just come eat some.) No, getting this far into the semester means that it's time to plan out the rest of our lives, or else we will die alone living under a bridge with no college education and only really crappy snacks. At least that's what I presume will happen. These past couple of weeks, we have been tackling what is probably the easiest of the upcoming life decisions: housing.

Our journey began at the campus housing fair. Actually I didn't go to this, I had pesky commitments like "work" and "class" to attend to, but Jessie, Katie, and Sara did. Apparently at least one apartment complex guaranteed marriage. They brought back many fliers. An intimidatingly large mountain of fliers, in fact. We decided that naturally, the only logical time to look through these fliers was three in the morning on Friday night. Luckily Katie was there to rethink my decisions, as my attention span capped out at about twenty seconds, and I placed at least three options in the "no" pile because they were too complicated to read. Eventually, we narrowed down our options.

And then it was time for apartment hunting! We didn't tour any sketchy, we-might-be-murdered looking places at all! Nope! Not a single one! It also wasn't hailing, and we didn't knock on any doors and ask random strangers to show us their apartments! And none of the places smelled weird at all! And we didn't base our decision at all on how the apartments smelled! That would be ridiculous!

Anyways, we finally decided to live at Glenwood, land of the many dead animals and antler light fixtures. We're irrationally excited about this. Anyway, when contract signing time came, I learned just how efficiently my friends can stalk me. They found my home address, emergency contact information, and social security number all without any input from me. I'm not totally sure how concerned I should be about this. But it's official now; we have a home! Or, you know, we will in like seven months. And it's a beautiful, wonderful place and there's only like one vampire lurking in the path to campus. We'll almost definitely survive. Sara beat him off with my purse the first time, and only minor injuries were sustained.

I hope you all are having a fabulous week! Smerf! (I'm bad at this.)

Part 1: Surprise Field Trip to Area 51

Traumatic. That is how Katie and I would describe the adventure we had on Wednesday. The term "adventure" is used very loosely. Adventure implied that fun was had. They are usually memories that you can share over tea and crumpets at a reunion with your friends and say “oh remember that time we…” and everyone falls out of their chair laughing. No. This was not one of those times.

It was just another Wednesday, or so we thought. I needed to go to the Bio Lab but somehow Katie convinced me to go to the Pendulum Café with her. It probably wasn’t that hard to be honest; I love food. So we start walking in the direction of the ESC, but we didn't realize until too late, that there is not a door from the direction we had come. Us being our lazy selves, we find the nearest door to enter through instead of walking all the way around. We fool ourselves for a few moments thinking we know exactly where we are. Oh how little we knew. All we could see around us were white walls and closed doors, an occasional set of lockers here and there. The only thing we were thinking was, "oh my gosh...what country are we in and how do we get back to Provo.." Katie literally did question whether we actually were still on campus.

We have absolutely no idea where we are going and how to get out, so we do the natural thing: instead of going back out and going through the familiar door, we start wandering halls, randomly choosing directions. Katie starts to panic. Now you see, when she panics, it doesn't turn into wide-eyes, cowering in a corner, or hyper-ventilating. Katie starts rambling, more so than her normal speech. She says anything and everything that comes into her head and usually it involves some shouting...okay a lot of shouting.* Nearing her breaking point, she stops in the middle of the hall and says "Jessie. Is this a government base? Are we trespassing? IS SOMEONE GOING TO DRAG US INTO AN OPERATING ROOM AND TURN US INTO ALIENS?" I did the normal thing and laughed at her, but I secretly wondered if there was some validity in her statement. It after all is a science center. There is a human cadaver lab on campus, why not alien experimentation? It did match my previously suggested theory of being in Area 51. Finally, I suggested we go upstairs. Katie brushed it off, but then we came across a staircase and she suggested going up.... Oh that's a fantastic idea! Why didn't I think of that...

We emerge to real sunlight and find ourselves at the end of a hallway that'll take us straight to the café. You cannot imagine the relief we felt, especially Katie's as she had stated that she was on the verge of smerfing from exhaustion and lack of food. We raced over, got our lunch and enjoyed a pleasant meal while trying to put the experience behind. We walked out, decided I would find Katie in the library after I was finished with biology. I bid her farewell and walked toward where I believed the lab was. I thought the traumatic events were done for the day. Again, how wrong I was.

Normally, this would be where I would tell you the second part of this story. If you've read our previous blogs, you know we're not normal. I have decided to wait and tell you the second part of this story later. One, this is a very rambling blog and you can only take so much of that before you zone out. Two, it'll give me something else to write when Katie tells me it's time that I write another blog. So despite the fact the second is a selfish reason, the first is for your own good. You're welcome.

*this is katie. i would like to say that it was not shouting. it was raised voices. ladies don't shout.

russian to reply.

dear russian viewers:

Привет!

Я всех вас люблю!

today, we've had more views from russia than from the united states. working off our current theory, there are more drunkards in russia than we thought. or smerfing is the hip thing to do, but all the non hipsters are googling it to catch up.

we're open to new explanations of the russian hits.

in the meanwhile, thank you, Varfolomei for your generous referrals, and LETS GET DIVERSE, Y'ALL!

-katie

true story.

sara starts laughing. i creep on her, and immediately know i have to post this. if you don't know why, quit smerfing around and get to reading.

-katie

Breaking News

Breaking as in heart breaking...as well as urgent.

A tragedy has occurred.

Despite all of our hard efforts at obtaining our Party Room, it was all for naught.

No, we did not get arrested, kicked out, or even discovered...we got a new hall-mate...that's right...she moved into the party room. Not that she's unwelcome, we're delighted to have someone new join our hall. But the loss of the Party Room was a hard blow to take. There goes our nights of smerfing
As soon as Marina and I realized that someone new was moving in (and the coast was clear) we ran to her room, peeled the tape off the door, and walked inconspicuously away.
So my fellow friends, this is how the tragic loss of our party room came to be. Maybe it will be in your textbooks one day. I'll sign it for you...for a small price.

"Smorfing"

That's right.  "Smorfing."  It's a type of alcohol in Russia.  We think.  Because if it isn't, how would we randomly have 4 blog viewers from Russia?  Here's our theory: A really super drunk Russian man named Varfolomei was trying to order some more "smorfing."  So he was typing this into his Russian form of Google, and accidentally typed "smerfing" instead, because that's what happens when you are a drunk Russian man on the internet.  And when he stumbled upon our blog, he thought he would change his addiction.  He went from drinking smorfing to constantly viewing our blog, so he got together with his two buddies and his lady friend and they are now going on 3 views a day.  Each.

We also have a good friend from Chile, the King of Malaysia, and a German Shepherd viewing our blog.  Yeah, we're famous.

Our Unofficial Moonlighting

So, as you have recently been informed, our fridge is not a fridge. Because of this problem, we don't use our "fridge" very often. Thus, things we do put in there usually get forgotten and abandoned to die a slow and painful death. This is the case with a half full bottle of Martinelli's Apple Sparkling Cider. It's been there since about the third week of fall semester. It's been about 4+ months. The discovery of it's existence led us to question whether or not it was safe to drink. It had, after all, been sitting, opened and unsealed, in a dark and cool place for many months.

So of course the only logical thing to do is consult google on effective procedures when attempting to ferment Martinelli's Sparkling Cider. Turns out, according to the internet, we have succeeded in making our own alcohol! Screw hoarding secret caffeine, come to our place for something even better that will really get the party smerfing. Or it may perhaps make you really sick and die. We're not really sure. Someone should donate their pet to us for animal testing.* We might even pay you for your time. But probably not. Don't count on it.

*Some side effects your pet may experience once you donate them to the cause may include: headaches, nausea, bloating, confusion, loss of sight in the left eye, abnormal dreams, weight loss, weight gain, decreased sexual desire or ability, diarrhea, dizziness, drowsiness, nervousness, dry mouth, fever, chills, muscle aches, increased sweating, loss of appetite, runny nose, sore throat, weakness, yawning, or sudden death.

too legit (to quit).

this past weekend, i went to vegas with some friends (probably there will be more about this later). during one particularly crazy hour, i was offered a tramp stamp by our lovely friend, leah. obviously i said yes. and then chickened out.

leah doesn't take no for an answer, and after a very smerf-tastic struggle, i ended up on my back, held down by three people while leah took a sharpie to all readily available, unmarked surfaces of my skin.

i ended up with a face on my stomach, a diagram of cave people shooting and roasting a sheep on one arm from alex, a gorgeous likeness of myself from marina on the other arm, and a portrait of thomas hobbes and john locke on each shoulder from michael and asa, respectively.

most importantly though, leah gave me knuckle tatts, deeming mine a "thug life."

that was on saturday night. i washed everything else off for church, but decided to leave the knuckle threats. as a warning. (un)fortunately, i washed off the "t" before making said earlier decision. leaving a more accurate representation of my life:

not ready to let go of my new lifestyle, i had nate reapply my tatts, but with a new addition, courtesy of asa (who decided the night before that we should all replace our "l"s with "r"s):

and that's the story of how i became a mob boss.

because nothing's more legit than a sharpie tattoo.

-katie

Shaving

Don't worry, it's not what you think. This post is not a rant about having to shave my legs even during the winter, or how men on campus desperately need to re-read the honor code. No, I'm talking about shaving inanimate objects. Specifically pillows.

So, this is (was) my pillow. I know, horrible right? How could I possibly have allowed this unkempt object into my sight? Jessie soon put me right about the proper way to care for pillows that don't have proper hygine.

Jessie to the rescue!! (And if you look closely, you can see our observant new roommate standing in his usual spot by the door, watching.)

'Twas a very interesting experience. Click here for a video showing this process, which somehow led to a philosophical discussion about how inanimate objects make the best friends, and yet the worst enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I guess.

Done!! And smoother than a baby's bottom. How could I have ever lived like I did?? I swear, I'll never go back to an unsmerfed pillow.

our fridge is not a fridge.

sara and i have a contraption in the middle of our room.

it looks like a fridge. it sounds like a fridge.

but don't be fooled... it's a contraption of doom and aggravation.

even on the lowest settings, it has a tendency to freeze everything inside. including drinks.

anyway, i noticed the "fridge" wasn't closing right the other night, and i opened it to fix whatever was blocking the door to find a busted diet coke can and frozen diet coke covering nearly every surface. normally i would laugh this off and put it in my ramble-y story box to tell over dinner some night... except this is the FOURTH time a diet coke can has exploded on me. SINCE AUGUST!

twice our "fridge" that is really a freezer has caused diet coke to smerf everywhere. yes, i should've known better and prevented a second time, but i forgot. anyway, enjoy some pictures and a good laugh at my expense. my hallmates sure did.

the worst thing about the whole experience? i had an open container of raspberry lemonade yogurt sitting on a shelf that i started eating, then lost interest and put away to eat later. now it is questionably edible, as there is diet coke all up in it. normally i might throw it away, but come on now... raspberry lemonade! doesn't sound that delicious? not anymore.

-katie

well this is awkward.

turns out the unfortunate boy i potentially scarred is in the same physical science lab as jessie and i. there are nine other sections and nine other labs he could be in... but of course he's in mine. you would think i had smerfed mother theresa in a past life for the poor karmic synergy i'm getting lately.

let the semester full of avoiding eye contact and awkward hellos begin.

(of course i will keep everyone updated)

-katie

The worst part is that they probably all went away feeling like they had done me a service.

One of my favorite parts of work is operating the wrapper. (I work in the bindery, mostly putting coils into books and then boxing them.)

Anyways, once a certain number of boxes are accrued, we have to drag the palette over to a complicated machine which wraps it in plastic, and then move it over to an aisle to be shipped out or whatever. End of background information. The palette is heavy and difficult to maneuver, but I'm perfectly capable of doing it.

So, today, as on most days, I go to wrap a palette of books.

Phase 1: Pulling it down the aisle

I am successfully yanking the cart out when I am approached by random man #1.

Him: Don't you have any guys back there to do that?

Me: Oh, I've got it.

Him: Hmm. You're awfully small to be pulling that big thing.

What am I supposed to say to that? "Thanks?" "Darn?""You're right, I seem to have suddenly lost the ability to pull it?" I just laugh and keep walking.

Phase 2: Encountering an obstacle

A minute later, I discover another palette of boxes in my way. There's enough space to go around it, but just barely, and it requires some careful maneuvering, with this thing:

which admittedly I am not very good at.

Enter man #2.

Him: Do you need help with that?

Me: No, I think I've got it. Look, I'm almost there.

Him: Here, let me do it.

Me: (sigh) Okay.

Phase 3: Maneuvering onto the wrapper

This involves pushing the cart uphill onto the platform, and it needs to be done very straight. I begin to line it up when man #3 walks by.

Him: Do you need help with that?

Me: No thanks. I can do it.

Him: (skeptically) Let me see you do it.

(I orient it and push it up)

Him: Oh...you can do it.

Me: Yeah.

Phase 4: The conclusion

I finally wrap the palette. Apparently I appear capable of this because no one interrupts me (today). But, naturally, as I go to pull it down, Man #4 feels the need to intervene. (Admittedly this one is my age-ish and has a British accent.) This done, I finally return to my work.

I get that they're just trying to be helpful and all, but really now? If I needed help, I would ask for it. I'm not totally incapable (and neither are women in general.) End of rant.

Smerf.

How To Obtain A Forbidden Party Room

A new semester has begun and that means new hall-mates. Several people have moved out of our hall; however, we have only regained a few. It has come to our attention that we have an empty room in our midst. When someone with very little personal space is presented with an unused space (that just takes a little deviousness to obtain), they are driven crazy with the idea that it is going to obvious waste. We have come to the conclusion that we MUST at all costs get into this room. There were several plans we concocted before coming across the winning idea:

Failure #1: Trying to move into the room. Not all the way of course. We simply tried to switch rooms on the internet so that it would register us as an occupant. Then, go to the Cannon Center, say we got locked out, they look it up, oh look! it's our room. That didn't work. For some reason the room is completely unavailable. No one can get in it. Extremely inconvenient.
Failure #2: Trying to pick the lock. Just so you know, YouTube videos lie! You can not just simply wiggle your paperclip around and BAM! your lock pops open....no....We sat for maybe twenty minutes "wiggling" the paper clips around with absolutely no success. Moving on.

Failure #3: Master Keys. We figured maybe the Cannon Center doesn't keep separate keys for every room, so they would just have a master key. It would make sense. If kids didn't know they were getting a master key, there would be no problem. So Katie went and asked for a key to their room and then attempted to open the door. It was not a master key. Next.

Failure #4: Fake Out. Since they ask us what our room is when we ask for a key, maybe they don't know and it isn't registered in their computer. Unfortunately, the computer is smarter than us. When I said I needed a key for 2113, the attendant gave me a funny look and asked if I meant 2118. Of course I did- it's just been a long week. We had to sit around the corner for five minutes because we didn't feel like walking all the way back only to return a few minutes later. Fail.

Failure #5: Kicking the door down. It would be a tad too obvious. Plus...we just weren't able to.

Failure #6: Excessive Pleading with the door....'nuff said.

Finally we have come to our winning scheme! If I do say so myself, this was quite brilliant and well put together. It may even blow your smerfs out of the water. This will take quite some explaining. I hope you are ready for this:

Winning Scheme: (this is what should've happened) First an I.D. card was slid extremely far under the door. An RA was retrieved. She opens the door. Person 1 goes in to get the card. Person 2 distracts RA by asking her a question, successfully pulling her away from the door. Person 3 sneaks in and hides in the wardrobe. Everybody walks out, RA thanked and gone, person 3 opens the door.

Instead, this is how it really happened: We retrieved the RA. She was very interested in how it happened and how the card got so far into the room. She opened the door, but refused to move from it. Person 2 approached, but RA continued to stay in position prohibiting Person 3 from sneaking into the room. As Person 1 walked out of the room, a magnet was secretly slipped over the key hole. Despite the fact we were sure she would see, even as she looked to turn out the lights, it went unnoticed. Later, we covered the key hole with clear tape to make it less obvious.

And that my friends is how you are able to obtain a party room in which you can learn the Hannah Montana Hoedown Throwdown in. My recommendation? Skip steps 1-6 and proceed right to the last. It will save you several hours on what once was a Saturday night with many possibilities. I wish you success in all your future devious endeavors! -Jessie

Our Awkward New Roommate

Katie and I recently got a new roommate. There are a few oddities about this person though. Number one, he's a boy. Boys normally aren't allowed in our hall or our rooms except between the hours of 7 and 9 on Sundays and Wednesdays, but somehow he got through the system. Oddity number two, there are only two beds. Katie takes one, I take the other, and to be honest, it works out because our new roommate doesn't sleep much. He does like to constantly get dressed and undressed, however, which can be a little concerning, but I've gotten used to it. He also likes to just watch us. All the time. He'll stand by the door, silently, and observe us day and night. I might have been weirded out and asked him to leave and never come back, but here's the thing: He's adorable. His smile will melt a cynical girl's soul, and, let's face it. When he undresses, his abs are to die for.



Oh, you want a name and a picture? No worries. Everyone, meet our new roommate, Zac Efron.

Don't you just want to smerf with him all day long? Yeah, so do we. :)

This week would probably have been more fun if I was drunk. Not that I drink. This title got bad fast.

On a regular basis I threaten to drop out of school to be a hobo and live in a box. I also threaten to move to Chile and join a mariachi band, but that's beside the point. This is a pretty good summary of my semester so far. However, I have recently learned that my current dilemmas are mostly irrelevant as its only a matter of time before dolphins take over the world. What, you hadn't heard about this? You thought 2012 was going to bring an earthquake, or something? How sadly behind of you. As Katie recently informed me, dolphins are alarmingly intelligent, and have been throwing us off the trail for years through such activities as rescuing drowning humans and performing for fish. They can also probably stand up on their tail. Octopi, of course, are also intelligent, but have shorter life spans. Katie does not feel as threatened by octopi.

On a completely unrelated subject, here is my picture of Sara:

P.S. I have just been informed that the word "smerf" must appear in this post. Done.

Why I Love My Family

This morning, as all mornings, I was not in my brightest mood. My family has learned that you DO NOT ever talk to me in the morning if you value your life. However, for some reason I was in a particularly bad mood this morning. Because Marina had lost her phone and needed me to call it for her, the first thing I did was cross to my phone. I had three texts on my phone from my sister, Ashley. This was rather puzzling to me. I sometimes will have a random text from her at one in the morning (she works graveyard shifts, we are not vampires), but never three. The first one is of no particular interest to you, but the other ones were rather hilarious.

Text #2:

If I died any time in the near future, I want my hair crimped at my funeral.

Not curled or straightened. Not that I am planning on kicking the bucket any time soon. lol

Text #3:

And you get all my books lol

As this was the very first thing I had seen that morning, it was a bit of a shock at first, but then I started cracking up (since I had just woke up, my voice was rather hoarse so my laugh was rather creepy sounding. Almost like a dying hag). I then proceed to show marina, sara, and katie. They laughed as well, but it was questioned why she would be thinking about things like that. I would've liked to answer that yes, she is weird, but I could see that as a totally normal conversation that we would be having...we've actually discussed similar topics before. We've even started calling dibs on items for when our parents kick the bucket. Smerfing may not be normal for most families but it is for mine. But if that's normal, I'm thrilled to be weird.

if he could've, i think he would've run away. screaming.

i had an encounter with one of the new boys in our ward yesterday. his name is britton (i think... he didn't stick around long enough for me to double check) and he is in the same physical science class as jessie and i. jessie, social butterfly that she is, invited him to sit with us, and then walk back to the dorm with us afterward.

it just so happens that i get a little tongue tied around new people sometimes, and i say all the wrong things. it also just so happens that i have been a bundle of nerves lately as i consider my various potential classes/futures. i've been really stressed the last few days about making sure i'm in good classes this semester that i'm more socially inept than usual.

with that in mind, consider what this poor new kid must be thinking as he walks down freshman hill with jessie and myself as i start rambling about my mid-year crisis and how conflicted i've been feeling. then jessie, trying to comfort me, mentions my mini-breakdown/cry fest the night before, and that's it. we've completely lost him.

i wish i could've told him i'm not normally so smerfing chaotic, but if i'm being honest... i'm a big basket of crazy. i saw him later that night and apologized while explaining that i usually dole out the crazy in little bits until people are used to me. but i don't think he understood.

tragic, really.

and that's how we got our trashcan privileges revoked.

let me preface this enormously long post with this simple question: what are giant trash cans for... if not dumping trash into? with that in mind, what follows is the long tale of how we were banned from trashcans.

in each room, we have small trashcans, which obviously need to be emptied occasionally. rather than trek out to the dumpster once a week, i take my trash to the giant trashcan in the communal bathroom. midway through the semester, a friendly notice was posted, reminding us to take our trash to the official dumpster. although i thought it was absurd (our bathroom doesn't stock paper towels, so presumably the only trash to be thrown away is toilet paper wrapping, so why not dump our garbage in it?) sara took over trashcan duties for a while, and i didn't worry about it. until the trashcan disappeared.

on a tuesday, i dumped my garbage in the bathroom trash. on thursday, the trashcan was gone, and this was in its place.

immediately, i panicked and assumed i was to blame. i devised a plan in which i would take the sign down, hope for the cleaning staff to forget and then steal a garbage can from another bathroom and leave the sign in its stead.

what i found was that ALL of the trashcans were gone. i filled sara in, and we decided to take the signs. we couldn't leave empty handed.

two days later, sara texted me, alerting me of new signs. obviously, we had to take them. they were posted with significantly more tape, and after ripping the first one off, we discovered this:

let me say this: NO ONE GUILTS ME.

i needed this sign as a trophy, so i replaced the original sign with this:

it got the point across, right? i left similar outcries in each bathroom. i don't think they lasted long- i know the sticky note i put up in our hall was removed within the hour and thrown in the toilet. i was tempted to write another: "to the person who stole my sticky note- in a perfect world, there are enough trashcans for everyone, and you don't have to throw things away in the toilet." but i left it as it was.

finally, on my last day in the dorms, the following was posted. i was leaving that afternoon, so i didn't mess around with these signs. plus, i was starting to feel a little remorseful. i decided to call it quits, and that was the end of our shenanigans.

at some point of our epic, a hallmate informed me that the trashcans are removed before finals week so students won't dump old assignments and binders willy nilly. i felt a little ridiculous, but i stick to my guns!* also, at that point, anything was more appealing than actual studying.

the following are further images depicting the trashcan debacle of '11. enjoy... because at this point you've probably read everything else, and the rest is pictures.

another passive aggressive sign for an upstairs bathroom.

when the notes got hostile, this seemed a little conspicuous. so i moved the trophy cabinet...

also, if you have some spare time, i like to take lots of videos as well as pictures.

anyway, i'm going to watch marina draw sara on paint, as "that is the only logical thing to do" at 1:30 in the morning. nighty night, don't let the bed bugs smerf!

-katie

*except for, you know, when my guns involve hard stuff. like exercise. or finishing a knitted scarf.