I have no game, part 28234

Recently, Jess posted or tweeted or somethinged about a hot guy moving in next door to her. And then she was excited because he left her a note asking her to call him because he had some questions about the building. And she called, and it turns out, he actually had building questions. She was sad.

I could totally relate to this because seeing as I have no game, I would not, in any way, shape or form, have been able to turn that situation to my favor. Hot guy would have asked me his questions and that would have been it (which I think is where it stands now with Jess..?).

A few weeks ago, I realized that the guy who sits in front of me in class is awesome. We were both totally jaded about the dumb group activity we were doing, and our making fun of it somehow turned into swapping drinking stories and realizing that we have a lot in common. This was the first time I had ever really spoken to him, and getting to look at his face as opposed to the back of his head made me realize that, if he shaved off his beard, he'd be hot. Hottie hot hot.

Today, I was extremely surprised when a gchat from him popped up on my screen. He had some snide remarks about the paper due in class tonight. I was pretty pumped that he had gchatted me for seemingly no reason at all.

Until, of course, he told me he wasn't going to make it to class tonight, and would I please let the rest of our group know if we got together to chat about our final project?

Blarg. The conversation didn't last too much longer after that. We hated on class some more, and then...just stopped talking.

And now I have to go to class without the hope of getting to talk to my new hot friend, and instead, I will have to suffice with the extremely smelly kid who sits next to me.

Failure.

The proper usage of the STRIKE

Look, friends. I've seen some atrocities in blogland recently and I CAN'T TAKE THE HORROR ANYMORE.

People need to learn the proper usage of the strike. You know. THE STRIKE.

Since I invented the strike back in college (many of you will disagree with this, but I care not), I am the perfect person to tell you all how to properly use it. SPREAD THE WORD. I will not tolerate incorrect strikages any longer.

The first common strike mistake is striking out the wrong word. When the truth is something unfortunate and you want to pretend to cover it up, it becomes amusing. If you cross out the fake word and NOT the real word, the humor is gone. Example:

The dessert was an assortment of different flavored miniature tarts. They were so freaking amazing that I ate two eighty-six.

See? Not funny.

The second common strike mistake is striking out the word and then not inserting the fake word at all. This is just flat out stupid because then what the hell are you striking for? NOTHING, I SAY. Look:

The dessert was an assortment of different flavored miniature tarts. They were so freaking amazing that I ate eighty-six.

Dumb. Pointless strike.

Here, my friends, is how that sentence should appear:

The dessert was an assortment of different flavored miniature tarts. They were so freaking amazing that I ate eighty-six two.

See? It is evident here that I actually ate eighty-six tarts (this sentence is clearly based in reality, and while I didn't count actual tarts consumed, it was probably pretty close to that number) but since I know that 86 is too many, I'm going to pretend I only ate 2. But we all know that no one can eat just 2 tiny delicious tarts (a post about my catering job and the delicious food that comes with it is forthcoming).

And there you have it. How to use the strike. Use it well, bloggies. Use it well.

Mmm...cheese

I talk to my friend Crapface on gchat for approximately 16 hours a day. There have been many occasions in which I have contemplated posting our gchats because Crapface is awesome. However, I hate reading other peoples' gchats and have never read anyone's convo on any blog (except this one) and been amused. However, I'm going to start posting some awesome excerpts because this is my blog and I want these preserved, damnit.

And here begins, Conversations with Crapface. I have edited out irrelevant parts.

Crapface: i wish i had string cheese
Arielle: i have string cheese!
Crapface: IF ONLY WE WERE TOGETHER
Arielle: the possibilities!
Crapface: i would also settle for some of those round little babybel cheeses in the red wax
Arielle: ooh yum
Crapface: any sort of small cheese product
Arielle: the tiniest cheese of all time
Crapface: tiny cheese, giant cheese!
Crapface: any kind of cheese!
Crapface: soft cheese, hard cheese!
Crapface: one cheese two cheese
Crapface: red cheese blue cheese!
Arielle: i do not like green eggs and ham, i do not like them BECAUSE THEY AREN'T CHEESE
Arielle: um
Crapface: hahahahaha
Arielle: failed
Crapface: that was well done
Crapface: did your elementary school try to feed you guys green eggs and ham?
Arielle: no, my elementary school was jewish
Crapface: mine did, and i refused
Crapface: i remember it being slightly traumatic
Crapface: i don't like eggs!
Crapface: i don't like them in a box
Crapface: i don't like them with a fox
Arielle: i don't like them either, actually
Arielle: i don't like them in the air
Arielle: i don't like them in my underwear
Arielle: ew
Arielle: that came out wrong