Here's some hints:
4 words.
1st word: ______ boy is an emo band.
2nd word: ______ blind mice, see how they run.
3rd word: _____ is a tv show where you get voted out of the tribe.
4th word: Special _____ DVD box set of LOTR had a toy gollum.
So hey, you for whom 2 of these were procured... you owe me $$ :)
Today on the way home from work, my spidey senses tingled. The car in front of me was the exact same as Babyface's. I was almost completely convinced it was him, but I just couldn't see the driver's face in any of the mirrors. Then I drove up next to the non-stationwagon, and to my embarrassment it was just some Hispanic couple.
I was obviously just tired from a long day at work and little sleep, and my senses were all hyphy from seeing him yesterday after a haitus of like... 2 months.
Ugh, groupwork. I had 2 group meetings tonight, the first in the business library and the second in the regs library (yesterday's library). Met my group in one of those private study rooms in Crocker, but somehow... still couldn't shake that weird feeling. Turn around, and through the window to the computer lab, there he is, a mere 5 computers away from me.
I'm telling you... I'm like the Babyface Radar.
I was inspired to write after blog stalking some people I love to hate, and some that I just love to stalk. My big epiphany was that people (ie, Rona and I) only really want to read about Drama. You know, the drunken-hot-mess, cat-fighting-girls, reported on xoxo gossip girl kind of stuff.
That's pretty hard for me to do. For one thing, the major drama-mamas in my life were always roommate #6, and now that we are only roommates 5, I am missing a major source of entertainment. And I don't have any of my own romantic problems because NB is currently residing in Oz, and we have a perfectly healthy text&skype relationship going on.
I did see Babyface today. Ha, that is a stupid nickname but I think it is what some friends used to refer to him as. Anyway, it was terribly dramatic. Here is how the exchange went down:
I was walking up the stairs from the Leavey (library) basement, and he was walking down. My heart stilled. I registered somewhat smugly that he was looking kind of fat and less babyfaced that the days of old.
Me: Hey!
Him: Oh, hey.
Yea. It was steamy.
But really, you don't understand. I have always had some sort of psychic link to Babyface. I always know when I'm going to see him, I can feel it prickling in the air. It's pretty much the worst superhero power a person could have: sensing the presence of a guy you used to do stuff with.
So I have this pair of American Eagle shoes, which were like $10.
I didn't think they were particularly awesome, but I've gotten quite a few compliments on them. And every time, I say 'thanks, they're from Payless.' You know, kind of a self-depreciating remark. Which then brings down my cool points by like 55000. Because in this school, people buy Polo, not Payless.
Question of the day: Should I just shut up about it and let them think I'm cool and don't shop at Payless? Or should I wear em with pride?
I forgot to mention the best part of the night:
As I (soberly) backed out of my parking spot, careful not to hit the car next to me, I forgot to take note of the metal pillar on my other side and basically half ripped my side-mirror off.
