Why Do Guys Have Such Long Eyelashes?
I nearly just had a mini heart attack when I noticed my Wi-Fi signal had turned off. How sad is that? How sad is it that I am dependent on the internet. And it wasn’t like I was doing homework or anything productive except looking at all the Modcloth clothes I cannot purchase and all the members of One Direction I cannot marry. Maybe I could purchase the members of One Direction and marry the Modcloth clothes. Seems legit. But seriously, I would never be in a horror film by any means, but if an intruder came into my house and wanted to lure me outside my room all he’d have to do is turn off the Wi-Fi. Because I’ll be damn sure to go look and see why I can’t get on Youtube anymore.
Oh yes, the title. That always confused me. Why is it that guys have such long eyelashes that they could basically bat their eyes and cause a hurricane? And here I am, crying over Maybelline Great Lash mascara because although I’m like on my 278th coat, they still look short and ratchet. And guys, so it seems, don’t care about that type of stuff. Which is sort of a shame. Really, it is. It’s kinda like that one friend every girl has that’s like really beautiful and can literally wear anything (or nothing) and look gorgeous, but isn’t a bitch and really nice and has a great personality and is funny and she just tosses her hair like “Pretty? Me? Pish posh, I don’t know what you’re talking about” as she walks over the puddles of men’s drool all over the place like “Oh, I didn’t know it rained today”. And you love her because she’s your friend but still you hate her because she doesn’t know what she has. It’s like that w/ guys eyelashes. Except it’s not.
Also, I don’t understand how my life is playing out currently. Yes I can joke about the time when I walked into a glass door or the time I got my backpack and myself stuck in the revolving door at a library or the time I gasped so loud after seeing a picture of Niall from One Direction on twitter on a public bus or etc. But really, is something wrong with me? Like, if people were word processers, the majority of my peers would be like Microsoft Word 2010, some like Microsoft Word 2004 (give or take a few updates), some maybe like Word Art, and then there’s me, the world’s first typewriter. Which is kinda cool because I’m like the world’s first typewriter but not because:
A.) No one uses those anymore except, I’m pretty sure, my philosophy TA still uses. Which is pretty legit.
B.) You can’t backspace on a typewriter. So my mistakes are out there for the world to see. Forever.
But whatever. One day I’ll just meet John Mulaney and Tina Fey, get my on NBC sitcom, live in New York and life will be good. Or not. We’ll see.
Back to the matter at hand. Gifs. My week. Let’s do this:
So the other day I woke up and literally was like:
Then I met a friend from high school I hadn’t seen in ages. We were never really close so when she approached me I was like:
But then she was telling me about these kids from her dorm that climb cliffs and shit without harnesses and invited me to go one day and I was like:
And she was like:
And then she pretended to cry *at least I think she was kidding* and I was like:
And she wanted us to take a picture and I knew I was going to be like:
So I said “No thanks! I don’t have time to break your camera with my face. I don’t live that life.” And she was like:
And she was like “You don’t know you’re beautiful” and I was like:
Then I went to class. In my bio discussion, my TA tried to explain an MCAT style question and all of us were like:
Then he revealed that we could get 5 points added onto our final grade for doing like the smallest thing for extra credit and we were like:
Later that week, I snorted in my O.chem class in front of everyone, including certain people I have no business snorting in front of and I was like:
But then I was like:
Also I voted! I am such a model citizen y’all. But then I saw the line at one polling place and was like:
So I went to another polling place, a church, to vote. And these people started walking out of line to what seemed like a secret entrance for “expedited voting”. So I followed them and they were like:
Because they were all getting into their car to go to another polling place because the line was still too long. Then they asked if I wanted a ride and I was like:
So I rode with them to this Confederate elementary school. And then I got to the polls to vote and I was like:
And then I voted and was like:
Then I decided that I was going to take care of my (horse) hair over the break and I was like:
But I’ll probably end up looking like:
Later that week, I went to lab and we worked with liquid nitrogen and isolating proteins and I was like:
Then I went to a local elementary school where I mentor a little kid and we talked about our mutual love for One Direction (she’s in the fifth grade) and I was like:
Then I went to the library and instead of working on biology, I downloaded their new album and was like:
And my friend from home asked me how I got their album so early and I was like:
And I could tell people behind me were juding me from behind and I felt like saying:
But it’s ok. Cause I have Take Me Home and life is nearly almost okay. So soon it will be Thanksgiving and I’ll get to eat real food and I’ll be like:
Even though I’m going to get back to my old room and it’s gonna be like:
And my mom will ask me about college and be like:
So if any “playa’ playa’s” ask me for my number, I’ll just take my mom’s advice and be like:
Okay. That’s all I got. Court dismissed. Bring in the dancing lobsters!
Also, why doesn’t everyone own something in tweed? Honestly, it makes me feel like this: