So I've been sitting here on the first floor of Sigma Delt for about three hours playing Bejeweled, Blitz, on Facebook staring desperately at a depressingly blank Word document. I'm trying to write a hilariously funny column that will rocket me to campus icon status and get me mad facetime on B@B with lots of agrees, but this pinnacle of my 15 minutes all depends on me having a fit of caffeine-fueled inspiration and coming up with an insight about smartphones that is so funny and true at the same time that you might even think I write for The Dunyun.
But I can't. Yes, that's in part because it's before midnight and it isn't actually possible to form sentences while Collis Late Night is still open, but there's also kind of a Serious Issue. (Warning: the following sentences are not cracked out and attempt to be reflective. Proceed with caution.) The issue is that my iPhone is sitting on the table in front of me. When my contract runs out in June, I am going to get a BlackBerry, because in my slightly psycho opinion, iPhones are for kids and Blackberries are for Real Life with actually urgent e-mail and schedules and doing that weird thing where you beam people your contact info. iPhones are for screwing around with fake lightsaber apps and downloading things that make you sound like T-Pain. I thus keep telling myself that upon my graduation lah lah lah I can't hear you and subsequent transition into Actual Grownup Status, I should get a BlackBerry.
And then the other part of my brain (yes, different parts of my brain have conversations with each other stop looking at me like I'm more nuts than usual), the other part of my brain says "GIIIIIIIIIRL WHAT YOU TALKING ABOUT? You can't even PRETEND to be a grown up!" There's a lot of evidence to support this position, so I thought I might present some of my typical actions of late and have you illustrious readers weigh in.
Reasons I Might Potentially Never Be Able To Be A Real Person1. So far today, I've eaten a pickle, one Babybel cheese covered in red wax and an entire box of graham crackers. (Hi Mom! Remember how I exaggerate things for effect in my column? This is one of those times. Aren't I a riot?)2. I haven't worn pants in two weeks. I know we've discussed this before, but it's reached new levels. I went to Folk and bought more leggings because I ran out. In other news, I also haven't done laundry in two weeks. (This is definitely not the column that makes me seem like a Cool Campus Icon, is it?)3. I own three giant round and squishy stuffed animals. One of them honks when you squeeze him. 4. The other day I made Annie's Mac and Cheese in the mysterious bundt cake pan that keeps floating around the SD basement (I think people keep trying to use it to rack cups, realize that the bottom is curved, and abandon it into a corner). I poured the pasta into the pan, stirred it with a chopstick, and ate it with a knife. (I would have eaten with the chopsticks if I had been able to locate the other one, I promise.)5. I accidentally dyed one of my nostrils green last week after a tragic fine-point Sharpie explosion. Sure, it faded after three days and liberal applications of coverup but I do something comparable every six hours. Eventually, people will notice that you've done something like impale yourself on a spork.
If you think I have Real Person Potential, please send an e-mail to this effect at Kathleen.Erinn.Farley@dartmouth.edu. If you're less than optimistic blitz me at "Chica Please." I do not have a good explanation for that nickname, and because I'm still in this fake bubble, I don't have to.
