Water Bottles Gross Me Out

This morning my roommate Mary gave me a water bottle from her car. Arrowhead. It was the catalyst to new found epiphany: water bottles gross me out.

1. My equilibrium was thrown off the entire way to my next class because of the weight difference from left hand to water-bottle right hand.
2. I felt like I had to drink it all because otherwise I would be wasting... water...
3. I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of class... something I haven't had to deal with since the single digits.

As soon as I got to class I realized that water bottle girls are EVERYWHERE. They pile their books on top of their desk as a small pyramid glorifying the water bottle that perches atop the stack. Most of the bottles have a disturbing moist condensation on the inside and I apologize for the word moist, but it's the most appropriate.

Sometimes the noise that water-bottle girls make as they adjust themselves in class haunts my nightmares. It's a little something like this: soft swish, soft swish, gurgle, backwash, slurp, plastic popping, popping plastic, lid screw, more gross room-temp water slurshing.

Catch-22

I think the concept of "Catch-22" is confusing to enough people that it can be used whenever you want. I like assessing a non-catch-22 situation as Catch-22 and seeing how many nods of approval I get.

Real Conversation:

Girl: This guy keeps coming in to work and hitting on me. He is gross and he keeps asking me when I work next and it's really grossing me out! (Insert racial slur here)
Me: Oh. Catch-22.
Girl: Exactly!

It's that simple.

*Note: This process is much more successful when the person isn't really interested in your input, but rather is using you as a sounding board who makes listening noises. Fair enough when you are using her as a device for personal amusement who makes unintelligent, and usually rude, statements.

Dictionary: 1.a frustrating situation in which one is trapped by contradictory regulations or conditions.

"The Gentle Giant"

Israel Kamakawiwo'ole:  For those who are not aware of this artist, you are probably just unaware that you are aware of him.  Anyone who watched commercials or movies in the 90's knows he sings the "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" ukulele rendition.  You know what I'm talking about.  He is Hawaiian, 789 pounds, gemini (classic gemini, sometimes fat, but always loveable) and unfortunately, dead.  He died in '97.  RIP.

That being said, consider the following conversation I overheard at the gym today.

(Kamakawiwo'ole's "rainbow" playing over the loud speakers)

small girl (talking to remotely attractive, but unfortunately short boy):  Oh my gosh, I love this song.  It's one of my favorites

small boy:  What?  Oh, yeah, this is a good one.

small girl:  I love this guy who sings this.  He was on American Idol last night, did you see it?  He sang this song.

small boy:  No, I guess I missed it.

small girl:  Yeah, it was really good, what is his name?  (I'm being serious...) It's something simple... Michael Johnson, Mike Jones... (It was George Michael, I saw the episode, I knew enough about this conversation to know that everything this girl was saying was wrong.)

This conversation taught me two things:  1.  Small people may be more attractive, but not necessarily more intelligent, and 2.  Don't ever claim anything is your favorite unless you know at least enough about it to know if it is dead or not.  

No, YOU CALM DOWN!

For those of us who have ever lived with girls (say... four in one room) we know that when that time comes to change while everyone else is dressed, things get pretty uncomfortable. We also know that as soon as we say, "Don't look" the first thing everyone does is look up at the announcer (aw, come on!). It's a little thing I like to call a paradoxical reactor.
And it doesn't only occur in a vulnerable, naked state either. In fact, most times I am fully clothed when I experience a paradoxical reactor. Some girls even use this device for flirting. "I'm really ticklish there! Don't do it!" I haven't figured out this perfect science yet: using PRs to my advantage; most of the time they are the bane of my orderly composure.

To illustrate: Look at the phrase, "calm down." I don't know what mother, meathead, pretentious snob, or "friend" thinks when they offer this gem of advice to anyone, but the lesson needs to be learned that the opposite happens. Whether I am overly- angry, excited, loud, happy, or worried; telling me to calm down will only inflame my anger, subdue my excitement, presumably make me get louder (shudder) and eliminate all happiness, probably from both our lives. Bottom line, I won't calm down. I have developed a flow chart to demonstrate what I mean. 

*Note:  The rate at which you tell me to calm down has a positive correlation with the rate at which I do not calm down