dating.

So... my roommate and I used to joke (before she got herself a boyfriend) about the question “Why don't boys want us?”

HERE IS THE ANSWER.

Check this out. It is absolutely brilliant. Curious about my own statistics, I decided to do a few additions of my own. Assuming that these calculations are roughly correct for females as well, and that I am approximately as attractive as the guy writing this, (Believe me, I used my most expert creeping skills to locate a picture of this individual, a one Tristan Miller who may have been employed by the German Research Center for Artificial Intelligence at some point in the year 1999, to judge for myself, but to no avail.) the percentage of boys/men (And there is a very distinct difference between the two, one about which I will not go into detail at this time.) in these categories who belong to the same religion as me (which, by my (very rough) calculations of 13 million divided by 6 billion) is approximately .2167 percent. If we multiply that by this guy's calculations for eligible companions, we get about 4057 guys. (Well, 4057.3, but I'm not taking .3 of a guy.) That's in developed countries, not even just the United States. Some of these eligible bachelors with whom I am scientifically compatible could live in France. Or Switzerland, for heaven's sake. One of them could be the man on that train to Bern that didn't wear deodorant.This is where I gave up on my additions. I’m not even going to try and calculate equations that represent how many of those are actually living within a radius of my very few networks, and how likely it is that I will even see them passing on the street, or even whether they have the stamina to ask random girls they see on the street on dates in the first place… but I'm sure it will wheedle down my total immensely. So pretty much... yeah. Dad, next time you ask me why I’m not going on dates, here is your answer.

dear wsc...

Well, as my collegiate education has been going quite well, I'd like to take this time to critique a few social injustices of our school. Namely, those that take place in a lovely building on campus that we will call the WSC, as it is not here to defend itself or give consent for me to use its real name. To begin, let me address the issues as we enter said WSC. I walk into this building at least once a day. Usually it is for the sole purpose of nourishment, as I am what some may call a starving college student, but sometimes it is to buy a t-shirt with the number of the most celebrated basketball player this season emblazoned across the front and back or to attend a class, but that is not the point. The point is... STOP THRUSTING PAPER IN MY FACE. Yes, I would love to hear about the upcoming hockey game or the newest a capella performance. But is it really necessary to throw various quarters of papers in my walkway? I have a pile of these lovely handouts in my room, ready for recycling. It's inescapable, though I have devised a few methods to evade the paper toss. The first is to avoid the area entirely. This may involve walking up the stairs, going around the building, then walking back down the stairs to the one side that no one ever seems to man (But after this, maybe they'll get the hint... Joy.) despite the swarm of them around the other doors. Or if that is not an option, I can always choose to occupy my hands with every electronic device I have on my person at that particular moment. If all else fails, do not make eye contact. Or if necessary, look incredibly angry. I find that the leather jacket helps immensely with this. The second injustice I would like to address is that of automated bathrooms, more specifically, automatic toilet paper. Is each person the same? Do we all need the same amount (5 squares) of incredibly thin single-ply toilet paper every time we use the restroom? I submit that we do not. I am perfectly capable of yanking the toilet paper out of the dispenser until I have the amount I want, thank you very much. Dear WSC, I know about events on campus. And I like getting my own toilet paper. Peace.

V Day.

So. It's that time of year again. If you must know, today my outfit consists of a black shirt, dark gray jeans, and brown boots. I did decide to don the pink and gray heart socks that my mother sent me in honor of this momentous day in the lives of anyone who has ever been attracted to anyone else. Mother Nature has decided to grace us with some of the l-word today, it's 46 degrees outside and I barely need a jacket. I awoke this morning to an upset roommate and Taylor Swift playing in the room next to me. Lovely. Taylor can actually be a bit depressing, especially on a day like today. It's no wonder February is the most depressing month. If you're in a relationship, you're getting frostbite trying to hold your significant other's hand, and if you aren't, you're depressed because you're not in a relationship and you're cold. Upon walking into the lobby of our fair dorms, I was graced with the presence of two people in an extended embrace. Necessary? Nope. They then proceeded to sit next to each other (very closely) and talk about feelings, I presume. I went along with my normal routine, filling my water bottle and glaring at them through my bangs. I doubt they saw, they were too busy gazing into each other's eyes. I continued my day without too many more "incidents." However, I did see a couple making out while walking. Miraculously, they did not run into anyone. Now there's a feat. Very impressive. During my lunch, I did not want to be listening to the (very loud) vocal stylings of the glee club, singing things like "L-O-V-E" and "Can't Hurry Love" and just about anything else with the l-word in it while clothed in hideously costumed, over-the-top pink and red outfits. However, I was graced with an anti-date in honor of the holiday. This included Jamba Juice and a cookie. Valentine's Day isn't that terrible, I suppose, especially if it means I get free food.

2.2.11

"Put your hands in your pockets, you freaks!" This is what I want to shout at every couple I see walking around campus foregoing their circulation to get some quality time holding hands. Of course, I don't. I restrain myself. It's February, and love is in the air. Joyous. However, just because it's Cupid's month doesn't necessarily mean that there is an increase in the amount of public affection shown around campus. Nope. Couples have been everywhere, all the time. Toting their offspring, sporting their rocks, picking each other up from class. I'm not against love or anything, it's just something I didn't expect to see such an abundance of at college. But back to the point. It’s currently 12 degrees outside. Fahrenheit. Ew. Among these lovers traipsing around campus looking into each other's eyes while slowly losing feeling in their extremities are students braving the cold. One of my favorite was braving the cold in, that's right, basketball shorts and flip-flops. This was another moment in which I wanted to scream something like, "Didn't your mother teach you any better?! You freak." "Freak" seems to have become my new word. It accurately describes many people with whom I associate. In the most positive context, of course. I mean, the people of the religion to which I am a member are often called a “peculiar people,” right? We choose to come to an institution in a place where we could potentially lose body parts to frostbite just by walking to grab some dinner. And especially if our hands are out of our pockets so we can have our arms all over each other. Another thing. We don’t need to rub each other’s backs in American Heritage. This is historically known as a very demanding course. Are they taking notes? Nope. They should be. It’s not Valentine’s Day yet, people, and even if it were, you would still need to take notes. Just because you’re in love or whatever does not mean you get an out. Yeah, it’s February. To me, that translate to, “It’s cold.” Not “Let’s waste time and body heat to celebrate our love.”

safety week.

So. Two weeks ago we had an event called "Safety Week" at our lovely little institution. This "Safety Week" consisted of various activities including random door checks, a safety seminar, and a "Stoplight Dance" for which we dressed in clothes that displayed our current relationship status for all to see. Red if you're taken, yellow if it's complicated, and green if you're single. The abundance of green was apalling. I wore black. Interpret it as a metaphor for my love life, or interpret it as my protesting the idea that all personal information should be posted for the world to see, I don't care. I fell asleep through the safety seminar. But hey, I got 100 points out of doing everything I did that week, the maximum anyone could get. That got me free ice cream and some Jolly Ranchers. Does that mean I'm the safest? Doubtful. I walk down Freshman Hill alone all the time in the middle of the night, probably not a good idea. Last night in our hall meeting, our next door neighbor told us about a group of guys who fly down here to our lovely little town specifically to rape Mormon virgins. Joy. My roommate says she'd die to protect her virginity, girl's a fighter. Me? I've got my pocketknife and rape whistle, I think I can handle my own.

ahh, college.

So I'm in college. Big deal. Classes, I can handle. Roommates, I can handle. But something I was not prepared for was the abundance of... couples. That's right, boys, girls, the whole shebang. It's really the PDA of the couples, it's simply the vast plentitude of couples. They're everywhere. Seriously. I can't even go work out in the student gym without seeing at least one. And they're cute, too. Always holding hands, toting babies, sporting their diamonds. You might think I'm embittered, being single and all, and that this is my way of lashing out on the male population for not noticing me, but on the contrary, I love couples. They're adorable. They just, frankly, are not particularly what I'd like to see every day between classes. A change of scenery would be nice, is all.

highlights of my day.

Only one casualty, a plate in the dishwasher. Heaven knows how one plate in the middle of the dishwasher can get broken with the others around it intact, but hey, they make it happen.

"Umm... Excuse me? Excuse me? Umm... I love you."

The guy in the redneck truck who whistled at me as I was turning onto Jeff Davis.

The African American girl with blue, purple, and neon green tye-dyed hair walking into Walmart.

swiss miss 3.

22. They drive on the same sides of the road as us. And their cars are as big as ours too. They have SUV's.

23. Every toilet flushes differently. You might look for the pull for at least 6 minutes before giving up and then mentally picturing the stall and figuring it out after you've left.

24. Teenagers can wear the "f" word on their shirts without getting too many weird looks.

25. There is a strange abundance of Asians.

26. Really. Every little kid is aesthetically beautiful. Even if his or her parents aren't attractive at all. They are all adorable.

27. Church in French is really difficult to stay awake for.

28. There is no shortage of man-capris.

29. Men wear two large balloons under their shirts and walk around looking like women. Because no woman has boobs that big... Right?

30. Lesbians tongue each other on the metro.

31. Old men in Speedos strip in front of you.

32. Old, fat men in Speedos play in the water fountains with small children.

33. Blogger logs you in in German.

The end.

swiss miss 2.

12. You are expected to only use one square of toilet paper. This is implicitly, but strongly, encouraged because bathrooms only dispense this amount at one time or the toilet paper is ridiculously thick.

13. If you have to pee, GO. Never think that you'll "be fine." You will not.

14. Sometimes completing number 13 requires money. No matter how badly you have to go.

15. Electric fences are for cows.

16. Alpine flies are really stupid.

17. Rivella = Coke

18. Rick Steves = God

19. Leggings pass as appropriate bottoms to an outfit.

20. Any falling water is potable, even if it is spewing out of the side of a 9th-century castle. However, water from a bathroom faucet is not.

21. Hiking down to Murren requires unleashing your inner Freud.

Still to be continued...

swiss miss.

In Switzerland...

1. All small children are absolutely adorable.

2. It is perfectly acceptable to pat the butt of the guy next to you to the beat of "Get Ready" at the Montreaux Jazz Festival.

3. No one says anything offensive enough to you to make you change if you just happen to leave your home wearing an entire outfit of neon green.

4. You can swim around a castle, complete with centuries-old poop.

5. If people want to stare at you, they will.

6. Couples are mismatched. Ex: Short man, tall woman; old white man, young Phillippino woman; attractive man, hairy woman; etc.

7. Every one of said couples is DEEPLY in love, complete with hand holding, groping, and the occasional holding of the towel in front of your girlfriend while she changes, without bothering to avert your eyes or stop making out with her.

8. What looks like apple juice is really unsweetened tea.

9. The train leaves on time, whether you are the only one of your family on it or the rest of them have managed to accompany you.

10. Everyone smokes. They all look like they're just regular cigarettes, but I can smell better. Then again, marijuana is legal here.

11. Most guys you can smell while passing them on the street actually smell pretty good. However, the ones that happen to sit across from you on the 45-minute train ride back home do not.

To be continued...