I WAS PRESIDENT OF THE INTERACT CLUB.

Mmm, Life is so good; especially when you have a backpack full of bananas.  Shall I explain?  At WCU, there is an all-you-can-eat cafeteria.  And, if I'm going to pay $6 for a poorly made meal, I'm going to pack up some bananas for the road.  I'm now the proud owner of 8 bananas, and they are all piled in my bookbag.  Be jealous.

So, life is very lovely at the moment, and although I do have a French test to study for, and I am blogging while eating a banana, and although Volpsers has found by blog, and although I have to be careful not to mention too much about spandex and it's nice effects and what not, life is nice.  I have one of those cold sores in your mouth deals right now, and I have some professional numbing stuff [Mother = Dental Assistant], but it melted in my car and instead of going on the sore, it has gone all over my mouth and I can't feel my tongue.

I made an 85 on my Charleston dance.  Whatever; I know I'm a winner.  Stupid Chris made a 95, while even stupider Volpi made a 100.  So maybe their efforts weren't ignored after all.

So, last night, I was here at WCU in the good ol' CMC until 10 at night.  Chris, Jacklyn and I were working on a floor plan for Susan's class.  Chris being the one with the architects scale, Jacklyn with her company and me with my math savvy know how - I know you're going to say something about how I wasn't that impressive, but just remember who wanted to use 3.92222 ft while I suggested the correct alternative of 3' 11"* - was quite an experience.  So, Chris actually did do more than provide the scale, and, with the three of use, we got the job done.  Without any arguments or outbursts, but there was some playful eraser throwing.  jerk.

*okay, so 3.922 is right, because it's using 10 = 1 instead of 12 = 1, so you were right, but my way is just easier.

And I was so hungry.  So very, very hungry.  Susan also tried to glorify the techies today by saying, "yeah, maybe we should pair of the acting concentrations with the technical concentrations... because this shouldn't be that hard..."

Thus:
Actors = Stupid
Techies = Genius

To which I wanted to say, "did they graduate number 17th in their class?  Did they make 100's in all of their maths, sciences and theatres?  Were they valedictorian of the 5th grade class, with 18 awards, including citizenship!?  WERE THEY PRESIDENT OF THE INTERACT CLUB?*  No, because they were too busy making out under the drafting tables in the vocational building.  I know what I'm doing."  *dramatic hairflip; stalks out of the class room*

Okay, so I may be a little dramatic.  And, I really do, truly respect what the techies do (myself having been one countless, countless times before).  But I do hate it when anyone questions my intelligence based on a stereotype, when I know that I, and my group, are probably the only ones who have done the whole thing right.  I'm not stupid; in fact I'm smarter at anything technical vs. anything in regards to acting.

Besides, did you see their measurements on the board Susan?  I'm more on with my singing.

*and now, a brief and boring story.  Abigail and I were actually co-presidents of the Interact club our senior year.  Did we believe in anything it stood for?  Meh, cooperation, whatever.  Anyhoo, at the homecoming game, Olivia Rusch was crowned queen, and in her little biography, it said that she was PRESIDENT of the Interact Club, and, mind you, she wasn't even a part of it.  I'm not saying she wrote these falsehoods, but whoever did needs to know that WE WERE THE PRESIDENTS.  Ooo, it burns me up to this day.

**I was also president of the the non-existent Drama Club.  We had Drama Promas, until the disco ball fell and almost killed us all.

***I'm the one in the pink top, the tu-tu, the trucker hat and the huge glasses.  It was a weird phase for me.

And this makes me miss the simplicities of high school the most.

I had a plan for this blog, but I don't really know where it's going right now.

I will say the other day I picked up some guy who wanted a ride to the 'Caf.'  I had parked at Ramsey, and I was in my car, texting or something and he came up and ask for a ride.  Now, wait for the description:  He was muscular and topless, with a massive shark tattoo on his back, stomach and side.  Instead of a shirt, he was wearing a sash made from cellophane and a pair of Adidas black and white flip-flops from the 90s.  He was nice as he could be, but I still was kind of frighted, especially after the whole Jeff ordeal and "why do I keep trusting strange men?"  Lucky, he did not try to find any ticklish spots.

I have to meet Abigail for tomfoolery of sorts, so I leave you with a question, and I expect an answer:

Who wears the grey headband better?

-Me

Pee.Ess.
Abigail just comes over and, pointing at my professional numbing stuff, says "Oh, gash, I love that stuff.  Oh, please, may I use some, please, please, please."  I don't say anything because I want her to think it's chapstick, but then I decide against it, and so I say, "um, Abigail, do you know what that is?"  As she sniffs it, she says, "Yes, I know!  I love it.  I love it when my mouth is numb."

...she's currently drooling on my shoulder.  "I can't feel my mouth, Rachel, I can't feel it."

I'm surrounded by idiots.