I was trying to compose a detailed discourse in my head about how being without my precious crackberry has ruined my life, but I'm afraid 33 hours has not been long enough to see its true effects. Actually, even the time spent with dysfunctional crackberry was painless.
Starting Thursday, whilst texting Charlie in the rain, the trackball/ pearl of the crackberry ceased to function. Without the pearl, I cannot scroll and therefore (so I thought) cannot do anything outside of calling people on my phone (calling? on a phone?? THATS IT????? blasphemy--I know). I suppressed the panic attack forming in the pit of my stomach as I went on my errands, all the while frantically moving the ball as fast as I could to try and shake it of its illness. I asked employees at both Target and Office Max to take a look at it for me, but no one could help. Over the course of the hour and a half of first being without pearl capabilities, I had already accumulated four text messages and was beside myself with frustration at being unable to read them. I ended up having to CALL 411 (who does that anymore?) to find an AT&T because tomtom was being an id and not helping me in my time of need. The woman at the AT&T store said that I just had to call a number and they would send me a new phone asap. The heavens opened up atop my angelic head to shed light upon me as the heavenly choir started up with the hallelujahs. I giddily skipped back to my car, calling the holder of my AT&T account (also known as daddy) to give him the number to call. In my elated state, I proceeded to pick apart my phone. Even as I was taking it apart, I was asking myself in my head what the hell I thought I was doing, because there was no effing way that I would ever ever be able to repair a dysfunctional piece of technology. Before I knew it, the phone was broken beyond recognition and I was left with a quarter inch hole where my pearl used to be. I know what you're thinking: bad omen. I thought so too, but dear friends hear the good news--we thought wrong!
Here's the thing--I am scrappy. I figured out how to maneuver the crackberry without a pearl. So I really wasn't handicapped at all. Go me.
Here's another thing--tech's pike formal was this weekend. I freaking LOVE formals. It is my goal in college to attend a formal every year. I'm doing well thus far. Basically it's a weekend vacay with a temporary sugar daddy. What's not to love? Free food, free alcohol, free hotel room, someone else drives my butt to the beach.. Seriously. Viva la freaking vida. Not even a dysfunctional crackberry could bring me down from a formal high. [[see fb albums]]
Oh and one other thing. I am one of the luckiest people I know. Let me recount the ridiculousness that has been today:
After the second night in a row with only four hours of sleep, I woke up this morning to hurry up and do my quia homework that was due today (for those of you who have taken language classes at the prestigious university of georgia you know that quia is busy work in the form of cruel and unusual punishment). So I finish quia only to realize that it's already 7 and I would much rather make myself a delicious spinach omelet than bother with doing the rest of my Spanish homework. The rest of my Spanish homework happened to include studying for a quiz that we had today, but I figured I'd just quickly look over the vocab and such before we started the quiz in class. So I take my time with breakfast and don't bother showering (any excuse not to shower!) before walking out into the FREEZING weather to make it to Fuad for 8am. I decide to take a risk and park downtown in a bank parking lot instead of waiting for the bus in the cold, and then walk over to Gilbert. I walk in a couple of minutes late, and everyone is already taking the quiz. Eff. I had no choice but to wing it. So I manage to get through it and he grades them right away. I got a 19 out of 20. Then he instructs us to write a brief summary of the reading that we were supposed to have done today on the back of the quiz. If you recall, I chose omelet over reading, and had not the slightest idea of what the reading was on. I overhear someone whisper "recycling," and scribble down a few sentences about how awesome the reading about recycling was because I love the environment and it had a lot of vocabulary to help me talk about my passion. Fuad added a bonus point to my quiz, and so I got a 100. Then I walked back to my car and was pleased to see a distinct lack of a yellow parking ticket on my windshield. I came home and passed out for three hours, decidedly skipping my stupid linguistics class, and then got ready for my lab at 2:30. I was running late somehow, and so I parked in a residential parking lot that had all of its spots numbered. Probably not the best idea, but again I came back to my car to find I had evaded yet another potential parking ticket. AND we got out of bio lab early for the second week in a row.
So there you have it. I'm scrappy. I had formal to distract me. I'm lucky. These three critical components in my life, and these three alone, have saved me from absolutely losing my mind since the crackberry failed me on that fateful afternoon. Especially since daddy took the crackberry away from me yesterday morning at 10am to go and get me a new one.
Fear not. I shan't be incomplete for much longer. Daddy's bringing my baby back to me at 7pm.
In other news, Jamie's birthday was yesterday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROOMS!). We went to speakeasy for dinner and it was de-freaking-licious. I feasted on gruyere fondue, spinach dip in a honey wheat bread bowl, calamari, crab cakes, and some of smel's white pizza. Oh and a dairy queen ice cream cake with the most wonderful crumbly bits I've ever had in my life. Scratch that. DQ crumbly bits ARE my life. Food baby was alive and well but I did not even care. It was incredible. Charlie I'm taking you to speakeasy when you come visit me this summer. You will love it.
Also Liana (stone cold bitch french professor) is a feminist. She would be. Do you know what that awful woman wrote on my homework assignment? Homework, mind you--not a paper or anything, just a stupid homework. I had written "he thought in his head..." and she circled it and made this big note off to the side that said "where else would he think? in his stomach? in his feet???" Then gave me a B-. BITCH!! I can not wait to purge her from my MWF schedule. Slash from my life.
Countdown to 1979: one month 9 days. EEEEEEEEE
Also I converted Patrick (flight instructor) and John (works at flight school) to Lady Gaga fans. We spent Monday morning watching her music videos and discussing her hatred of pants (slash love of jeweled panties). Patrick is obsessed with the zipper on the face thing she rocked on American Idol. Personally, I'm just obsessed with her.
daddy i'm so sorry i'm so s-s-sorry yeah. we just like to party like to p-p-party yeah.
Apparently there is a handicap bus that takes you to your classes if you are crippled (UGA's version of Southern Cal's valet service provided to their students). Jesse and I have a date for him to break my leg in the near future so that I can take full advantage of this amenity! I'm also hoping to score a wheelchair. An electric one--obvi.
I'm burnt to a crisp after epically failing to apply sunscreen on Saturday and the erratic weather is giving my face a gill-like complexion. Super attractive. Sigh. I should go re-apply lotion to my entire freaking body..
peace love and failblog.
