IT FEELS LIKE TODAY

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my feet aren't even that gross!

this one time i had another online journal that i wrote in maybe four times. i think i was trying to waste time while i was "working" at the school of education at this lovely university. anyway, i wrote this back then, and some of you may find it amusing:

meet heather and mike.

my roommate heather is an elementary education major at eastern, and she is fond of stuffed animals, children's books and crafts. i scoff at her often, and sometimes she leaves her stuffed animals on my bed with notes like, "i think you are mean to heather. you should be more nice to her and to me. sincerely, curious george." anyway, all that's background. last night, when i was trying earnestly to go to bed (me being a working person and all), heather decided that she wanted to sing a song she had learned in one of her classes (i'm not sure what heather learns all day; sometimes i wonder if she's actually gone back to kindergarten). her fiance mike was at our apartment, and he warned me that i'd probably regret agreeing to hear the song. (un)fortunately, she had misplaced the words to the song, so she decided to look for them in the bottomless pit that is the space beneath her bed. keep in mind that we lack storage space in our apartment, so spaces under beds are key. heather's space consists of a random assortment of pipe cleaners, stray pictures of mike, balls of kleenex, and probably some rotten broccoli. also, heather is very small. sometimes i forget how small she is, but i remembered last night that she is very small. she managed to get at least three quarters of her small self under her bed, and then mike, who, poor soul that he is, had had the song stuck in his head for most of the day, came upon the brilliant idea of pushing the last quarter of heather the rest of the way under the bed and then stuffed the remaining space with pillows. don't worry, she could breathe, because i could hear her little muffled voice calling to us to let her out. (i'm reminded of owen meany). she did figure out eventually that she had the brute strength in her legs to kick the pillows out herself, and here's the best part: as you would expect, her feet became visible first, and i was given the best opportunity of my short existence to do one of my favorite things. you will soon come to understand how horrible of a person i am capable of being. heather hates hates hates it when her bare feet touch someone else's bare feet. something comes over her when it happens, and it must be awful for her, but it is one of the more hilarious things i ever get to see. so i try to do it to her at random. i have never seen such a golden opportunity as i did last night--there she was, totally defenseless, no where to hide except under the bed, no way to kick me. so i pounced. and i only wish you could have heard the way she laughed. i'm guessing it's a lot like being tickled, because she gets hysterical and she laughs this laugh that if you heard it, would make you double up hysterically. yes, mike and i are cruel people. we find fun in cruel ways. but please, let me quote you the song:

"a pizza hut, a pizza hut.
kentucky fried chicken and a pizza hut.
macdonalds! macdonalds! kentucky fried chicken and a pizza hut.

"lean cuisine, lean cuisine.
ultra slim fast and a lean cuisine.
weight watchers! weight watchers! ultra slim fast and a lean cuisine."

this song comes complete with choreography, and i've had it in my head since i let heather out from underneath the bed.

(check out this picture. doesn't mikey look like he's heard one too many songs written for five-year olds?)

10:10 pm - 11.28.2005

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there's music playing: marc broussard

i'm reading:

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