What’s That You’re Drinking? Why This? This is Mud.

While I sat in my Social Work class, falling asleep because of the dim lighting and informative film from the 80’s, I decided to start writing a list. It was called: Things to Blog About. Among the things on this list are eating sideways, Facebook formalities, and shite coffee.
Something I scribbled on the top of the list was: When rude girls stare in the dining hall. Okay, when my friends and I are eating lunch and enjoying life, talking about bestiality and watching our friend Jenn laugh so hard that she chokes on water, do me a favor: Don’t stare. Yes, that is water coming from her nose. It’s quite obvious that you have a problem with us. You being the large group of girls openly gawking. So either say something (an adult thing to do), or get over it (also an adult thing to do). Nothing like a bunch of histrionic child-like girls openly jeering. As I have said before: If you don’t stop staring, I will start charging admission. (It’s only the capitalist thing to do).
Parenthesis are “in” in this post, as are colons.
I only have one more scoop of amazing vanilla-nut-butter-cookie flavored coffee left in my fridge, and alas, this is not enough coffee to get me through the week. In order to remedy this painful situation I woke up at 8 this morning, as usual, (and with a mean case of David Bowie morning hair) but this time I committed myself to walking to the terrace for a cup of their brew and a scone. Well. As it turns out, it doesn’t open until 8:30. Ah well, such is life. I went back up at 8:30, got my scone and cup o’ Starbucks coffee. By the smell of this foul liquid, I would be needing an assault of creams and sugars to tame the bitter. 6 sugars, 5 creams. A cautious sip. /Gag/. 2 more sugars and 2 more creams. Awful still, but I’ll take it. Count ‘em up people: 8 sugars and 7 creams to help me realize the painful truth: Starbucks coffee will still taste like cardboard and rear-end no matter what magical potions you put in it to improve the taste.
I wanted to talk about something important. Not deathly important, but still important enough. All of you do it, whether you are bold enough to admit it is up to you. You see friends, I am talking about Facebook Formalities. What exactly is a Facebook formality? Well boys and girls, a Facebook formality is the acceptance and maintenance of Facebook friends that aren’t actually based on a real friendship. This could be completely harmless, like being friends with your old boss, that cool teacher from high school you know you will never speak to once you become friends, or even those classmates from high school that you know you will never talk to once you become friends. On the other side of this it could be dangerous. That harpie ex-friend of yours that oozes so much narcissism that it makes you ill to hear their name, the classmate or coworker that gets on your last nerve, that airhead that is so full of themselves and addicted to their destructive lifestyle (sleeping around, tanning, drinking, this list goes on forever) that it makes you wonder how come they haven’t realized that their life is full of fail yet. “_____ ______ I love my life! I am so happy and I love my amazing friends so much!” Stop lying haha, we all know that just means you’re miserable and putting on a show for the Facebook Formalities. Facebook formalities are so full of bunk. Dear Friend, I hate you.
On a positive note, I guess I need to go talk to a priest. You see, I am (kinda-sorta-mostly-almost) Catholic. *Story Time* Mom was pregnant with me, while raising two children. I think they were about 5 and 3. The two of them were baptized in the Catholic Church, so mom wanted the same for me. Well being so busy with momming, she didn’t make it to church as often as she would have liked. When she took me in to be baptized, the priest said something along the lines of, “I’m not going to baptize your child because you have low attendance and will obviously not raise her in the church.” Well. Mom said he could go to hell, flipped him the bird, took me home, blessed the kitchen sink, and tossed me in! The end.*
Anyway, I am kind of Catholic, and Michael is Episcopalian, but has from a young age wanted to get married in a Catholic Church. That leaves us with two options: Either he can convert to the true Christian religion, or we (God, and priest willing) can get married in a Catholic church purely because I am Catholic and if we swear on the powers that be to raise our offspring in the Catholic Church. I am hoping for the first one, but will take the latter. This is where talking to a priest comes in. In order to convert, as I am told by ma cousine, Erin, He will have to take an adult course (which lasts about a year) in order to become part of the Church. He is a full time student with a full time job and a full time relationship—when could he possibly have time for courses? What I am wondering is whether or not he should do it before we get married (God willing) or afterward in the magical lull between college stress and the stress of kids. When our money is our own and so is our home! et cetera. Mom said he is going to be an amazing father. I’d have to agree with that.
Peace, Love, and Pudd’n Pops,
AMZ