We Almost There Cont Cont Cont.

And finally...our number one endurance...

Poopy Tom
Ya know what? On second thought, perhaps it's best we just leave that one there...

And--WE MADE IT! HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY! We are accepting gifts and party invitaions...

We Almost There Cont Cont.

Cookie Stealer
How to translate this ecstasy into words? "She" sits in the middle of the floor, smack in the center of the walkway--Indian-style on her coat. It's jazz night--we are in the living room at the student center. Her body illustrates the music--a Dr. Seuss illustration. A group of "woo!" girls park next to her--a safe distance away. They sport a grocery bag from Lin's. "Her" eyes alight on the package of cookies that are slowly unveiled from the bag. Each woo girl daintily takes one. As the cookies are about to be returned to their resting place, she bursts out, "Kai have some?" "Sure," the cookies are extended--she takes the remaining cookies from that side of the tray--seven or eight. The evening progresses as Pithy watches cookie girl--literally "in another place"--eat and boogie. Soon, round one of cookies has been consumed, cookie girl flops to the floor, stretching her arm to span the distance to the prize--her shirt riding up. Woo girl spares herself the awkwardness and pretends not to notice. Cookie stealer cannot quite reach--she shimmies over the floor--at last! Eureka! Taking five or six, she spring back as if to be less noticeable. Cookie crumbs drop. Cookie stealer stands and arranges her coat to cover the mess. She lays down, flat on her back, her shirt riding again, a look of pure contentment spread over her face. Pithy definitely needs some of those cookies...

The following two slots require an apology to our gentle readers beforehand. We felt violated too.

I Am Fifty Going on Seventeen
She must be fifty at least, this woman in Prudie's drawing class. Not the good kind of fifty--the kind of too much cigarettes, alcohol, and unhealthy body image. It takes a lot to make a fifty-year-old like this. As if to mitigate her loud and insensitive personality, Fifty dresses to display the wares--give the world a 'lil summin summin. She has shoehorned herself into a white tube shirt--thanks to gravity and butter--over which she wears a full button shirt tied at the waist. When she sits, oh word!, BOING! (sorry, it had to be said)--the tube retracts with lightening speed, rolling itself up. Pithy will stop pre-described the exposed state. Suffice it to say, that whole "I am fifty going on sixteen waiting for life to start" didn't work in the Sound of Music, and it doesn't work for you.

The Crack of Dawn
It is synchronized. 10:05 every other morning. Prudie and Jerry unassumingly move from their first class to the library or the Smith center. Their phone buzzes. They reach in to their pockets--Yay! someone is thinking about us... They unlock the keypad and press view message. Their synchronized expulsion of disgust fills the air. Tom!--eeww! The caption: Good Morning. The photo: the same crack that sits in front of him every other morning. All the old jokes apply--their cup runneth o'er, peek-a-boo, the sunrise...Prudie and Jerry, yet again, decide to skip breakfast.

We Almost There Cont.

Harry Potter
Expeliarmus! Now, Pithy is as anti-Twilight as the next person...and the first knock-off Harry was quite charming. *British accent* "Look, it's Harry Potter!" A nice little hearkening back to our youth. But then the fourth, the twelfth, the eighteenth, and the casting spells at the sidewalk--the ever-present reminder that the theater department is truly from ANOTHER PLANET. In our not so humble opinion, Pithy suggests that we need...well, less crazy people.

Lady Gaga
GenEd studies are particularly taxing for Jerry. Humans like to feel safe--secure, in control of their environments. This is why we choose majors and place around ourselves others who, through the same interests, act in predictable patterns--the Universe has declared it so. GenEd classes mess with this decree of the Universe. They are an amalgam of every walk of life--Nursing students, Math students, Music students, English students, Art students, Education students....theater students. Settling into Spanish oral exams, Jerry dons his usual querulous expression and watches. The assignment was simple--construct a situation that discusses several celebrities; you can use a talk show if you like. Perky girls gravitate towards each other on such assignments--and said perky group is currently presenting. Let me stress--there are FIVE girls in this group. FIVE FIVE FIVE. This then begs the question, "Why, when there are FIVE girls in this group, was the only guy nominated to play the role of Lady Gaga?" Lady Gaga! Does this offense know no bounds? If you were wondering, yes those feathers, and that wig, and that halter top, and those stilettos, and the tramp tattoo covering your back (yes we can see it) make you look like a total !@#$...

Feet Painting
Prudie is in this class called Arts Retrospective. It explores the development of the various art forms. However, SUU is sooo cutting edge its students pioneer their own art forms. One such form, captures our number six slot. The group moves to the front of class--"We are reenacting a episode of Laugh it Up, and plan to conduct the entire presentation in bare feet--running in paint on butcher paper. We hypothesize a piece of unspeakably beautiful art will be the result. BRILLIANT!" The professors present dubious expressions and possible catastrophes. These are waived off--"We brought a tarp!" They commence to squirt--not delicately spread--SQUIRT the paint bottles, like ketchup and mustard, all over the precariously covered floor. The presentation consists of running around a cardboard wall--on a super slick surface...Prudie sits back as this can only mean one thing. Sure enough, a particularly mobile girl (the voice of the group, in fact) rounds the corner and (let me see if I can spell this Ipicturedthatgoingsodifferentlyinmymind moment)--shwshwshwshloooophmph! She lands in a perfect impression of a dogsled. In a flash of paint--like something from that nineties remake of Peter Pan--she uprights herself, to discover there has been no provision made to remove the group's wet feet to their shoes. Brain over. Insert coin.

Coming Up: Cookie Stealer, 50 Going On..., and The Crack of Dawn

We Almost There

It is December...Pithy prepares to embrace the spectacularness that is the Holidays. When ranking College student's most favorite things--Christmas holidays is at the top...second only to the awesomeness that is the summer holidays. We are so ready that we will do ANYthing to get there. No seriously, ANTHING. As a testament, we commence a recap of the memorable worsts we have since endured in our sprint to the finish line of finals' end.

The Garage Door
Let me paint a picture. Cedar is cold. Very cold. In form, our garage door does not like this. Prudie and Jerry deal with its dislike. Prudie has the single remote opener, and she and Jerry ride together in the mornings. Jerry gets in position, Prudie presses the open button, and Jerry helps the frozen door open enough to let the car out. This is inconvenient, but manageable. Pithy's extreme exasperation comes, not from this situation, but rather from the one that follows two hours later. Prudie and Jerry try to find in their hearts some bit of compassion, some ember of empathy for Tom's predicament of tackling the door singlehandedly, but two words douse our fragile flame: ten o'clock. Because they know Tom is well-rested and up for the challenge (as well as having had the time for breakfast, and morning news, and a copy of War and Peace) Jerry and Prudence opt to revel in the simple pleasure of the this picture: Tom pressing the open button on the wall and running across the garage to catch the door before it freezes to a halt, being too slow, and getting to try again...and again.

Snuggie
"This has to be the creepiest commercial ever made," Tom says as the advertisement for Snuggies begins yet again. "Seriously, it looks like they are being embalmed or something. Who would ever wear one? I think I would rather go with a whale's idea of insulation." This conversation continues through many avenues--cocoons, oversized vegetables, telly-tubbies, how the name sounds like a diaper--and Pithy has soon established Snuggies as the number one fashion faux pas--except for maybe white cotton knee socks with leather crocs. "Seriously WHO would wear one?" Apparently a girl in Prudie's Art Retro class...

Breakfast Girl
The beginning of each semester (especially fall) provides many opportunities for upperclassman to look at the newbs and, with an air of ethereal superiority, comment about how wonderful it is to no longer be a freshman. This may seem callous--a denial of their roots. And yet, upon seeing breakfast girl in Music Theory, Jerry finds a moment for prayer and reflection: "Thank You, God for seeing fit to make me a Junior..." She comes to class five minutes early and begins her preparations for morning meal. At nine (the beginning of class) she pounces--peanut butter and celery, yogurt, a suspicious container of fruitcoctail and oatmeal?--her desk covered in crumbs, the air filled with the unpleasant smell of food too early in the morning, and the crunch crunch of stringy celery. Perhaps this should be forgiven, I mean, a girl's gotta eat right? We let you judge, internets--as you watch her pull out a hair brush...be careful--it's right next to her deodorant.

Coming up: Harry Potter, Lady Gaga, and Feet Painting