College

Hey, I want to blog again. It's been a few months, and I think that's pretty much long enough. But I need to ease myself into it. I'm sure you don't want me to strain myself or anything. Last time I tried this, I pulled my cerebellum by typing too vigorously and was out of commission for, like, months. So I'm just gonna talk about college and junk.

In a few days I'm going to be starting college. Starting college is one of those things that's only a big deal for the people it directly affects, like when the season premiere of Doctor Who airs or when there's a spider in your shower. Someone who doesn't watch Doctor Who might see my Facebook status about how I fasted for a week before the show and think I'm crazy, while anyone who does watch the show would know this behavior to be completely normal. And someone who doesn't have a spider in that shower doesn't think twice about the millions of poor souls cowering naked in the corner of their shower splashing water at the spider in their shower.

...Yes. So for me, the fact that I'm starting college is a pretty big deal. I can already feel myself transforming. Suddenly, everyone still in high school is immature. I have a thirst for coffee and beverages with ping pong balls in them. I have urges to write my screenplay at Starbucks. If you're curious, it's a commentary on the social injustices committed against short men written exclusively with adverbs to symbolize how we need to modify our actions to remedy this.

Naturally, this big step in my life requires lots of preparation, most of which I haven't started on. My room is as messy as it's ever been, I've yet to buy my course books and I haven't decided on a cool new nickname to have everyone call me (I'm thinking either A-Dizzle or Mr. Emma Stone). I have a few vital things, though. I got a printer, some bed sheets and a microwave: the big three. But by far the most important thing I've gotten is my Easy A poster. I don't believe this requires any explanation. Still, I'm pretty unprepared for college. It's going to take some time to get used to, and I'm pretty nervous about all the changes. But this is a worry that most freshmen seem to share.

However, I have managed to get ahead in at least one thing that freshmen worry about. I've found one of the coolest group of friends I could have ever hoped for. I feel exactly like someone would feel if the walked into a casino, pulled the lever on a slot machine and won the jackpot, except "probably slightly more extremely" poor (the part in quotes is an excerpt from my screenplay). I mean, that's practically how I found these friends. Pure chance. And it feels pretty good.

Now that I think about it, I'm getting pretty lucky right now. I should probably use this luck to go win the jackpot at a casino so that my debt stops rivaling that of the United States. </lamejoke>

Forever Alone

I'm lonely. I don't know how much longer I can handle this. Probably, like, another year. After that, I'll probably go crazy. I fantasize all the time about what it would be like. I'm so desperate, I even google pictures. So many pictures. And I click on every single one. You know, so I can see them in more detail. Except for when the image is the same size. That stuff sucks. And sometimes the image is even smaller. What's up with that crap? Now that I think about it, I don't click on every picture. Some of them are ugly as hell. But I click on a lot of them. I can't help it. I mean, look at this.

Frickin' hot, right?

So amazing. You can't even begin to imagine how badly I want one. A tortoise. Not a turtle. I don't have anything against aquatic animals, I just think it's a lot more difficult to create a beautiful and long-lasting friendship with someone when they're underwater most of the time. Have you ever tried to talk to someone underwater? It doesn't work. 

And I don't want just any tortoise. I want a Russian tortoise, and I want one for a number of reasons:

1. They live for 75 years. That's, like, practically as long as I'm gonna live. I'd never be lonely again.

2. They'd be really good spies. You don't often hear about non-Russian spies.

3. Russian accents are freaking bad-ass. I know tortoises don't talk often, but I want mine to be thinking in a freaking awesome accent.

And I already have an awesome name for him. Charleton. The "e" is silent. It's just there to make it fancier so it goes with the monocle that he's going to be wearing.