This class shall henceforth be known as The Class of Beautiful People

I’m in a class called Fantasy Literature (which is AMAZING) and I have begun to realize that this whole thing is actually a social experiment. There’s no other explanation for how every single person in this damn class is so torturously attractive. I know, boohoo. Every week I get to listen to hot people discuss books. What a crisis. But I’m SUSPICIOUS. This is some kind of statistical anomaly, right? There CANNOT be this many good-looking people in one class. I took the discussion to Tara.

Me: Today I was in a group with yet another hot guy in fantasy lit, and as if THAT WASN’T ENOUGH we were also working with this girl with a British accent. I mean jeez. What was I even bringing to the table here?
Tara: Was she cute too?
Me: Yes.
Tara: Dear God.

Yesterday I got paired up with a guy who looked like a young Jim Sturgess. What are you doing to me, Universe? WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS THIS?


I read The Scarlet Letter so you don’t have to!

As a dual English/Creative Writing major, I have to take an assload of English courses. The problem is that I didn’t begin seriously embarking on that journey until halfway through my sophomore year. (So I was running around going, “Yes! Anthropology 101! Social psychology! Dinosaurs! HAHAHA!”) I now must take English courses exclusively, with almost nothing else. Which means I’m writing a lot of essays. Which means I’m reading a lot of books. In my first week, I read The Scarlet Letter and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. So I basically feel like I’m catching up on things I should have read in high school.

I’m also convinced that The Scarlet Letter is secretly about the love story between Dimmesdale and Chillingworth. I mean, damn.

Me: They share “a kind of intimacy” and tell each other everything.
Me: They’re like two girls at a slumber party.
Me: It’s weirdly adorable.
Tara: I ship it.
Me: Oh my God. They just moved in together.
Tara: !!!!!!!!!!
Me: I’m not even sure what Hester’s doing right now.
Me: Are we sure she’s the main character?

And things were going swimmingly from my OTP for a while there. Until…

Me: holy shit they think Chillingworth is Satan now
Me: This turned quickly.
Tara: What does his boyfriend think?
Me: I think he’s blind to it.
Tara: I should have written this book. There’d be more gay sex.
Tara: Although that would imply that there was already gay sex.
Me: On that note, though, this book is so old that they keep using the word “intercourse” as a synonym for like “conversation,” so right now they’re having familiar intercourse.
Me: “He therefore still kept up a familiar intercourse with him, daily receiving the old physician in his study.”
Me: I forgot to mention that Dimmesdale is a priest and Chillingworth wants to corrupt him.
Me: “in the hot passions of his heart”
Tara: Oh my God.
Tara: Are you sure this isn’t a fanfic?

And then I finished it. I’ve seen Easy A, so I thought I was prepared for what could potentially be an okay ending. Alas…

Me: Dimmesdale died.
Me: What was really funny though is that Hester and Dimmesdale were going to run away together and get on this ship and go back to England and live happily ever after, but then Chillingworth pops up and he’s like, “HEY GUYS wait for me I’m coming too, I just bought a ticket!!!”
Tara: I
Tara: I just
Tara: I can’t even figure out who the third wheel is in this threesome
Me: I can’t either
Me: It’s a mystery.

So if you need to write an essay about The Scarlet Letter for school, I think we all know what direction it’s going to take.

I wish I had taken a picture of the dinosaur doodle, because it really was magnificent

I spent today with a friend I haven’t seen in a while. We made this dessert, which was a layer of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, then a layer of fudge, and then another layer of Reese’s, but these were crumbled. I remained in a sugar coma throughout much of the movie that followed.

Afterwards I went out to dinner with Tara and Allison, and I left my number for the waiter because he gave me free French fries and asked, quite sincerely, if I am an artist, because I drew one hell of a dinosaur on the check.



Bask, people. It’s a good day.

This happened today.

Elodie: I recommended my mom read The Book Thief. She hates, hates, hates, HATES sad books. She’s going to disown me.
Tara: Are you secretly Satan?
Elodie: Yes.

But you know what else happened today? The Defense of Marriage Act was overturned, Prop 8 was dismissed on standing, and early (very early) (ridiculously early) this morning, Senator Wendy Davis’ filibuster killed the Texas abortion bill SB5. Senator Davis stood for 12.5 hours without eating, drinking, peeing, or pausing the debate. To put this in perspective, I watched the filibuster for eight hours, and during that time I peed like three times and ate an entire sleeve of Vanilla Oreos. I started texting Tara around the time that they began debating whether or not Davis’ argument was germane, and by the time the crowd had started screaming for 10+ minutes to push the filibuster past midnight, we were both texting variations of “adljwlkhgfkh2” back and forth to each other with no explanation provided.

The Supermoon (and how we failed at it)

Tara: Hey, sorry I was gone for so long… my mom and my brother were both like “IT’S THE SUPER MOON TONIGHT YOU SHOULD COME SEE IT WITH US” and they implied it would only take like ten minutes so I was like sure whatever but then it was an hour long trip…
Elodie: Wow
Elodie: That sounds like a trek
Tara: It was, I was really unhappy
Elodie: Alex and I wanted to see it
Elodie: But we couldn’t find it
Elodie: We couldn’t find the moon
Tara: We found it but I guess we missed its really cool moment, so it wasn’t all that impressive
Elodie: I didn’t realize it had a cool moment
Elodie: I was really unprepared for this
Tara: I was expecting the moon from Majora’s Mask so maybe my expectations were really unreasonable.

The dark side of having families that watch as much TV as we do

Tara and I are still watching Lost and Vampire Diaries, but we’re finding it difficult. We now prefer to watch them together (as in, we’ll watch one episode of each and then repeat until we realize we’ve been watching TV for far too long and begin hating ourselves), but the problem resides with Lost. You see, we can’t watch it at Tara’s house, because her mom and brother don’t like the show. They watched up until season 3 and then quit, which baffles me, because season 3 was my favorite. So I feel the need to debate the various pros and cons with her brother. And then we can’t watch it at my house, because my family likes Lost way too much and they blurt out spoilers before they can stop themselves. My dad spoiled two things for Tara within like five minutes, one of which I had been keeping under wraps for the past two months.

So basically we have to wait until one of our houses is free and then frantically squash in a few episodes. This is the struggle, people. This is what we deal with.

These are my Friday nights

I feel like my life is just a long series of battles. Battles with spiders. Battles with strangers at Buffalo Wild Wings over trivia.

That wasn’t the plan, though. We went and saw The Hangover III, purely out of curiosity, and even by my very low expectations I wasn’t very impressed with it. Then Allison wanted to get food. Tara and I weren’t hungry, so that narrowed Allison’s options down to fast food, because it’s not so weird being the only person eating at a fast food place. While I was driving us to McDonalds, however, Allison had a change of heart, and I was forced to hang a right at the last minute and go barreling into Buffalo Wild Wings, whereupon Allison ordered some chicken wings and fries and we embarked on a glorious trivia adventure.

We were there for about two hours. About halfway through we realized we were playing against these people at a table across the bar. I was the only one facing them, so they kept making eye contact with me and giving us the thumbs up or otherwise making some other facial expression. We got competitive. We started cheering whenever we got one right. I high-fived Allison’s face. They beat us twice and then finally we won, so we decided to quit while we were (sort of) ahead. On our way out they all said, “Good game, girls,” and one of them shouted, “TWO OUT OF THREE!”

We almost said, “Same time next week?” but chickened out.