Dear MILLI,
It's been a rough fall break for me-although I had a fun time at home, I'm pretty sure I will never go to RDU again for any sort of traveling- because I probably won't be allowed to.
I'm hoping that the road trips I'll now be obliged to take will be a little less Thelma & Louise (culminating in suicide) and a little more Road Trip: The Movie and Crossroads (you get laid at the end).
It all started when I got on the plane. Nothing in the world pisses me off more than the first-class passengers that watch you lug your oversized carry-on baggage to the back of the plane while they sip on their complementary drinks.
I think I muttered something about how communism wasn't that bad of an idea, and the flag-embroidered-sweater-clad woman with bangs next to me suddenly stopped talking about her three children and started looking nervous.
She must've said something to someone, because about two-and-a-half minutes after I got into my seat I was off the plane and answering questions such as "am I the leader of a terrorist organization," "how many times have I showered in the last month" and "do I think I will sleep with 73 virgins." I wish. I'm not even sure I KNOW 73 virgins.
Seven hours later I was finally cleared to board the plane, but the last flight out was cancelled due to "technical difficulties," which I'm pretty sure means that the pilot got smashed at the Delta club.
Arriving a day late would've been fine if my prof hadn't scheduled an exam for the first day back (sucks), but I guess now I'll probably be able to retake the exam after asking all my friends in the class what they were tested on (sweet).
From this side of the law,
VANILLI
What's up, V-man?
Well, I had my court date for my alcohol citation yesterday. In general it went all right: I've never been caught before so the lawyer my parents hired convinced the judge that if I sell my soul to the Community Service Center this won't go on my criminal record. The judge and I didn't really hit it off, though-I genuinely wanted to know what she had on underneath the robe!!-and she said something about "misogyny." In addition to the twenty hours tutoring Durhamite children, I now have an extra sentence. For 24 hours I have to dress and act like an average Duke Girl, then write a journal about what I learn from the experience. Here's what I've got so far:
A Day in the Life of "Millie"
8:01 a.m.-Oh, dear Lord, what am I doing up this early? Class doesn't start for another two hours but I guess I need this time if I'm going to shower and blow-dry and iron and curl and iron again and shave and moisturize and use at least six different paints on my face and poke things at my eyes and discover I have no clean underwear left except the tiniest thong I own and choose an outfit and choose another outfit and choose five more outfits and throw all previously chosen outfits on the floor only to decide in the end to wear the first one I chose and finally go really really slowly down the stairs so I don't fall down in my heels.
10:16 a.m.-Oh. God. Ouch. Thong.
10:17 a.m.-I wonder: is the word "thong" referring to the fact that it's an insubstantial flap of fabric stretched between places? Or is it an onomatopoeia referring to the sound said flap of fabric makes when I take it off and snap it across the quad? Thonnnnnngggg!
12:49 p.m.-I feel like eating lunch but there's just no way I'm walking to the Loop in these heels. Everything just seems so much farther away now that I take approximately five steps for every one I used to. Guess I'll try a yogurt parfait in Alpine Bagel.
12:58 p.m.-Are you serious? There's only one toilet for women here?
2:44 p.m.-All life and semblance of order has departed from my hair, officially negating all effort I put in this morning.
7:02 p.m.-DEAR SAINTED MARY, MOTHER OF JESUS I DON'T HAVE FEET ANYMORE WHERE ARE MY FEET WHY DID I PUT THESE THRICE-CURSED POINTY SHOES ON AND WHOSE IDEA WAS IT IN THE FIRST PLACE TO STUFF EXTREMITIES INTO TRIANGULAR SLOPES SUPPORTED ONLY BY TOOTHPICKS??! PROBABLY STALIN'S THAT COMMIE @#$%.
9:11 p.m.-A couple of the girls want to go out tonight. We won't leave until midnight, but I guess I need this time if I'm going to shower again and twist my hair into something resembling a pineapple and redo the myriad paints on my face and regret that I have no underwear now (the only "going-out" outfits I borrowed from my girlfriends involve skirts and I really really wanted to ride the bull at Shooter's but I guess that's just not going to happen now) and choose some new shoes and make my bed in case someone comes home with me and wonder who I am actually going to convince to come home with me and check myself out in my full-length mirror and realize that I'm SMOKIN'.
1:52 a.m.-Apparently "No, I'm not interested" doesn't mean that. And apparently "No, actually I'm a dude" doesn't work either.
3:54 a.m.-SafeRides doesn't pick up off campus, so I stumble back to East Campus where I wait an hour then discover myself in a van full of the most UnSafe people I've met all night. Ew, that guy just puked on my Mini Louis.
MILLI and VANILLI would like to thank their girlfriends and MILLI's little sister for helping them foray into female life. Man, you ladiez have it hard.
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