Thursday, August 26, 2004
The girl who made my iced coffee a few minutes ago managed to botch it, somehow; all she did was pour ice in some coffee! She didn't mash the ice or add whipped cream. It tastes like cigarette butts- cold cigarette butts. Three dollars and eighty cents utterly wasted, that I will never get back.
Amy and I finally received the solution to our phone problems last night. I left a note on our Community Advisor's door; she later visited our room with a list of dial-out numbers. Ausgezeichnet. I have attempted several times to call a boy I met online who goes to Tech and needs a playdate, but got no soap dialing out of my room. Now I will be able to call him and make him drive me to Wal*Mart, which is all I really want him for. As I no longer have April around to drive me places, I need to acquire a replacement chauffeur. He lives on-campus, in one of the townhouses. I'll ask if he's loaded; loaded is sehr gut, ja.
Yesterday after the job interview I wandered the mall, which is filled with such thrilling shops as Rave, Aeropastel, American Eagle, Wet Seal, Hot Topic, et cetera. However, I find Express and New York & Company acceptable. I bought a sixty-dollar sweater at Express (I'm thinking of it as my Christmas gift... to me) and a four-piece flatware set at the mall dollar general. The Express girl who rang me out noted the sweater was 'cute'; I thought: Yo' damn right, for sixty dollahs! but said aloud, 'Oh, I thought so, too, when I saw it on the mannequin.' I'm a little curvier than the mannequin, but the sweater looked all right when I tried it on.
My hands hurt... dadgum sunburn. My arms faded to brown, but my hairline and my nose are red. Dadgum lack of carotin, or whatever it is... stupid, blotchy skin tone...
I'm waiting around for The Chauffeur (Jordan) to appear. I sent him an e-mail last night specifying that I would be in the library dicking around on the computer at this time. Since I do not own one, I must utilize the library computers or mooch off of Amy's if I need to upload something. I do not want to use Amy's stuff all the time, so I'll walk to the library every day. If I close my eyes and pretend the sun isn't there, beating down on me and turning my lovely, lily-white skin into different shades of muck, the walk is enjoyable. I rather prefer Lubbock heat- it's hot, but dry air. Even though I've walked everywhere during the day, sweating gallons, my face finally cleared up. I counted only one zit this morning. My hair isn't as oily, either. Ausgezeichnet. This I can get used to.
The dorm elevators alternately reek of sweat or cologne. The community bathrooms are grey and unattractive, but clean. My door lies directly across from the garbage chute and one door down from the bathroom, which means I do not have to hobble far or pass too many people with my scummy self when I venture out for a shower. Laundry gets cleaned in the basement, which is also where the janitors hide out. They are very friendly and were happy to direct me to the laundry room when I wandered down there for the first time the other day. The maintenance crews around campus are also chipper, helpful little folk.
Jordan... oh, Jordan... I know approximately what he looks like, because he sent me an e-mail with his picture. He's a good little Aryan, probably two years older than I am. I forwarded the photograph to Lindsay, who about had a herniatic fit laughing, because Jordan appears a very conservative fellow. In the picture he's wearing a pink polo shirt and is holding a dog (the animal, Louis). I look up (casually, of course) when anyone enters the room, but apparently only brown people use the library. If he does come in, at least he'll be easy to spot.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:53 AM]