Cut the Catcalls

“Damn shorty look good

And I’m thinkin’ about getting’ at her

Okay, time to whistle at her”

- Juelz Santa’s “There it go!(The Whistle Song)”

About two weeks ago, I was mulling about the mall running a few errands. I can’t recall my reason for being there. But I could tell you how it concluded.

            As I was approaching the exit, a group of three, mid-teen, early twenties males sauntered their way about ten feet in front of me, walking in the same direction that I was. Their banter was quick, and while I was not eavesdropping, they were not shy in making their comments audible to the other mall go-ers.

            A young, attractive, blonde woman passed both the group and myself, traveling in the opposite direction. That’s when the whistles began.

            The group of males were whistling, making sexual remarks. I instinctively started to tune them out. In an attempts to avoid the group, I made sure to keep my distance, and walked farther away from them, on the opposite side of staircase near the exit. But, my attempts at avoidance failed.

            “What about her? She’s got like the same hair color” I took a quick glance of my surroundings, I was the only female in sight. Fuck. “Yea, oh yea I’d give it to her”. I’m not even sure what ‘it’ is, but I can say that I never intend on finding out.

            WHOA. I looked over. The three young men looked daringly back at me. One of them commented to the other, “She look over here like, ‘who, me?’ Yea you, we talking about you.” The remaining forty five seconds were filled with a colorful script that included things that were to be done to me, and comments about my body. All while loud enough for me to hear.

            My hair was in a braid, sitting on my shoulder. I had my glasses on, without the slightest bit of the blackest-black mascara (I actually have blonde eyelashes…creepy right?) complimenting eye shadow or rosie-hued rouge on my face. I was wearing a hoodie, and long sweat pants. In essence, I was the complete opposite of anything remotely attractive or sexy, (trust me, I’m hit. Fortunately I clean up decently) but, that did not stop any from making a remark.

This is basically what those guys looked like.

            Truthfully, I didn’t say anything back to them. I should have. My SAT score (while not anywhere near acceptable to Harvard potential) was probably higher than those three assholes score combined. When faced with a situation that at the moment is putting you through a state of temporary shock, it’s hard enough to process the current trauma.

            When googling the term, ‘catcall’ , a myriad of definitions pop-up. By proper Merriam Webster online standards, which FYI is the governing ruler on our language, defines a catcall as a ‘derisive remark’. AKA, a criticism. Urban Dictionary, quite the referential source, cites that catcalls “usually lead to sexual intercourse”. Give me a fucking break. The last guy to whistle at me was some creep with a hair piece in the club, and I can guarantee that I will never have sexual relations with him, ever.

            Criticism is expected in the school space, the work place, and in relationships. Sometimes it’s constructive, sometimes it could be kinder, sometimes it’s greatly needed. BUT, when it comes to publicly dissecting and judging each and every body part of mine- that is never acceptable. Women are so many amazing adjectives. We are funny, bright, smart, intuitive, powerful, empathetic, brave, daring, kind, crazy (oh, admit it. A little. Me, personally? A hella lot) and so many wonderful words that begin to define the complex creatures that we are. I am so much more than just the facets of my body. I am a living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being as well, who is not impervious to physical insecurities and worries.

            Here is what I would like men who catcall to know.

1. I know I’m attractive, I don’t need a reminder. I do own a mirror.
2. Get some self-restraint, I’m tired of hearing the inability of you to filter your own thoughts.
3. If you wouldn’t say it to your mother, sister, daughter of friend, what makes it okay to say to a complete stranger?
4. Finally, and most importantly, please shut the hell up.

We women have endured shit like this for a long time. And I don’t know if there will ever be an end in sight. But, to any man even thinking of making a remark next time; I’d like you to switch roles with us women for one moment.

            If women judged men solely on their one sexually related appendage that starts with a “p” and ends in an “s” (no, not ponies, dammit), how would you feel? And believe me, we can only here the excuse, ‘it was cold’, so many times.

Dream world.

To Do List Now That College is Done

As of Friday afternoon, I’ve officially become a college graduate. WHOO! This also means I have to change my blog decker…I’ll get there.  As a chronic list maker (if it weren’t for lists I’d never accomplish anything) I’ve already compiled a list of things to do now that I’m a college graduate and living back at home with my parents (yikes) The following is not a nearly complete list; enjoy, and please laugh at my misery.

1. Get out of bed. This seems like a logical action here. But it’s so damn comfortable.

2. Unpack 

Actual picture of all my shit.

3. Pick up the moat-like collection of laundry that has manifested itself on the floor circumferencing my bed that I avoid like hot lava each night.

4. Do ALL the laundry.

5. Learn how to conference call with my friends. Learn how to not make it awkward. It will probably still be awkward.

6. Explain to my mother that I don’t have an alcohol dependency problem. Also find a spot to smuggle my three bottles of nearly empty but not-quite-there-yet liquor from her judging gaze. Can’t let anything more expensive than a bottle of Burnett’s go to waste. Actually, I’ll keep the Burnett’s too.

7. Save money$.

8. Get a paycheck in order to make money to save.

9. Argue with my father that while he may have played a part of bringing me to life, he is not entitled to touch my beer.

10. Spend quality time with my pooch. I hope he remembers who I am. Smell my hand and remember.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWxNb17aArw

11. Actually read (as opposed to living on sparknotes, which I did as an English major)

            My reading list consists of some of the following:

1. Re-read all the Tucker Max books.
2. Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In – Cause ladies is pimps too
3. Beat Generation classics, ideally, Kerouac’s the Dharma Bums

12. Return the 30+ books taking up random surface space in my room to the library. Artfully dodge any fines.

13. Make a rule for a certain friend (not saying any names) that she has to stop announcing to me every time she farts. I’m a college graduate (and so is she) for goodness sake. Let’s get it together.

14. Drink more, keep my tolerance up. Go for the gold, every time.

15. Try to act classy. Keyword: Try*

16. Brush up on my flirting skills. Roommates and I should probably stop drunkenly offering to inquire to objects of affection(s), “can I sit on your face, sir?” Polite, but may send the wrong message.

17.  Learn how to cook. Realize adults don’t bring lunchables and go-gurt for lunch at work. Happy Hour while currently an important staple in my diet, is not actually part of the nutritional food pyramid.

18. Start diet.

19. Eat all the junk food in the house FIRST, before starting a diet. That way, all temptation is gone. Swiftly after celebrate the newly conceived food baby.

20. Offer my very limited & more times detrimental as opposed to beneficial skills to volunteer somewhere. Anywhere.

21. Refer to a dictionary daily to diversify my dialect. The term “exegesis” seems snotty and entitled enough. Also, strike “snotty” from my vernacular.

22. Textually harass my roommates who I miss so dearly by sending them pictures of advertisements for vaginal mesh each morning, to show I’m thinking of them. YOU’RE WELCOME.

23. Write. Maybe start a book about how wonderfully awkward my life is. I fled from a straight-up sex lair last weekend, be sure to come back and see posts dealing with such.

24. Get in good with one of my towns local bartenders for free drinks, town gossip, and shots.

25. Binge watch the entire third season of Downton Abbey with my mother while she verbally trolls throughout the entire episode:
Character on show in wheelchair: “I want to just run to the river and throw myself if”
My Mother: “You can’t run if you can’t even walk, fool”

Killed it, Mirmir.

26. Finally, and most importantly, SLEEP.

The Truth Is…

I don’t have a dating profile, nor do I intend to make one anytime in the near future (five years from now, who knows?) If I did have a dating profile, however, I think it would like something like this, straight forward and honest;

Hi, my name is Erin, but most of my friends call me Err, ginger, or ging.

I’m a twenty-one year old aspiring writer/journalist/Wheel of Fortune contest/proud owner of a black on black four-door hard-top Jeep Wrangler.

My hobbies including writing, reading, playing tennis, wearing copious amounts of SPF, and people watching.

I have red hair, freckles, and all the glasses in my kitchen are Guinness pint glasses. Why yes, I’m Irish. While my mother commonly threatens to take me to Irish American Association meetings to snag me a man, I’m pretty receptive to any guy, from any religious, cultural, and ethnic background who doesn’t take serious selfies, mirror pictures, #hastaglikeamotherfucker, or feels the need to text me pictures of their freshly waxed eyebrows. So, don’t be shy.

 My work and writing is extremely important to me, so, guys that are literate are preferred (not required, but definitely a bonus). I can talk a lot, but there do come times when I’m quiet. Treasure them, they’re very fleeting outside the realm of when I sleep.

I don’t need a man to rescue me, I’m not looking to be saved. However, chivalrous acts such as holding doors open are always appreciated. PDA is not my style, so if you grab or slap my ass in public, I’ll probably slap you back, too. In the face.

Hot summer nights are for ice-cold beers and Yankee games. I love sporting events, especially Yankees/Rangers/Giants. I can promise you that if given the opportunity, I would, no matter what my relationship status, have a one night stint between the sheets with Brian Boyle. If this does not please you, sorry, but we all should get a free pass, right?

At night, I won’t fight you for the TV remote. It’s all you. I’ll probably just be sitting on the computer or reading a book. We don’t have to talk, sometimes sitting with someone in the total comfort of not having to entertain or put on an air is incredibly relaxing.

Being lavished with gifts or compliments isn’t necessary. I’m not high-maintenance, and I’d prefer the gift of a good book or concert ticket to the most expensive jewelry or handbag.

I’m not very organized, and quite frankly, I don’t understand how I get anything done. But, I do in my own way and time. I will strive however, to be neat, but I don’t know how long that will last.

When I open up to you, I open up my whole life, experience emotions, and may spoil you. Please, don’t take advantage of that.

I’m pretty open to new experiences (both in bed, and otherwise) so please, take me on adventures (but in regards to sex, let’s conference about anything new and REAL weird first)

            And if your message runs along the lines of, ‘let’s count your freckles together” or something of that nature…it’s gonna be deleted.

Oh, fuck it, I think I’m just gonna stick to bars. How do I delete this?

Questions that Arise Around Graduation

Just being all sadgirl grad

Last night, after ingesting a cup of coffee at 9 pm and being wired and restless (I don’t drink coffee, so it hit me exceptionally hard) my mind began to wander. The looming proposition of graduation in three weeks had me thinking, and a bunch of questions popped into my mind, one after another, about life, post grad. In a not any sort of sequential order, are the questions that arose in my head, and ones that I’m sure have passed through many of yours, about life after college (if such a thing exists?)

1. What constitutes being an adult? And, will I now be considered one? Fuck.
2. How will employers feel about my nose ring?
3. How long do I have to live at home?
4. How long will it take my parents to get sick of me?
5. MA! WHERE’S THE MEATLOAF?!
   
   
6. What am I going to do without my roommate? How often will I get to see her?
7. Who is going to tell me that I am doing something potentially stupid?
8. Do I have to stop dancing on bars?
9. Does mean that I now start the search for ‘someone to settle down with?’ (ugh)
10. Wait – do I even believe in the constitution of marriage?
11. Is there still a chance I could get adopted by Angelina Jolie & Brad Pitt & live a life of luxury?
12. Is monogamy going to be a more widely practiced tradition now, as opposed to when I was in college?
13. Oh my god, how do I cook?
14. When is it socially unacceptable to stop going out to bars?
15. Will I eventually have to stop listening to music with expletives? =’(
16. Where do I hang out with potential hook-up/romance interests since I don’t have a dorm?
17. Do I have to admit to guys I start seeing that I am in no way interested in having kids?
18. Which of my friends is going to get married first? Will they pick a flattering cut/style dress for their wedding? Will any of the groomsmen be hot?
19. How do I save money?
20. Will I make new friends?
21. Do I have to get rid of my lil Wayne poster?
22. Can I still get a tattoo?
23. How low will my tolerance become?
24. Is anyone else as scared about the future as I am?
25. WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

No Explanation Ever Needed

Everyone has an opinion. Everyone. Whether solictated or not, you can bet that at least someone swimming somewhere in your social circle (or sometimes, even strangers) will feel the need to comment on anything, anywhere, anytime about you. And you know what?

            They have no right. Absolutely none. I think too often, we get so caught up in appearances and appeasing others (myself included). But what fun is that? If it weren’t for individualism, the world would be one, boring place, now wouldn’t it?

            So the next time you get ambushed with questions (or critiques) about any aspect of your life, just keep in my mind, at the end of the day the only person you should be concerned with pleasing is yourself.

Here are things you don’t need to explain to anyone, ever.

1. The relationship (or none) between you and a higher power.

Faith can be both a beautiful, as well as destructive (the Crusades, anyone?) force in people’s lives. So if you believe, or don’t, that’s your choice. Just make sure that no one else is imposing their creed on your kind of lifestyle. That is never okay.
 

2. Your line of work

Everyone, everywhere, has been dealt with different, unique skills and talents for themselves. Just because your job may not be the same collar color of another’s in no way does not make you anymore or less of a person. If you enjoy your job, do the best you can, then more power to you. Success should never be measured by monetary gain.

3. Your college degree (or lack thereof)

Truth; you immediately size up a person by learning if they have acquired a degree, to what level, and in what subject area. You know what? It’s your $20,000 plus investment, and no one has any right to tell you what to do.

4. What makes you go “O”

As a 21 year old girl, I spend roughly 30% of my day discussing the dirty – and hearing what makes other people just lose it between the sheets. Whips, chains, red rooms, whipped cream – whatever may get you to “get off” is a personal thing, and none that you should ever feel compelled to explain to people, especially if you don’t plan on sleeping with them.

5.  You’re Relationship Status

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been asked, ‘but why are you single?’ And this is often prompted, or course, by people in relationships. You know what?  People that have been immersed in relationships and have lived outside the realm of singledom forget how RIDICULOUS the single life could be. So, the next time anyone ever feels the need to question your single guy or gal swag, whip out some top notch texts from the opposite sex, such as the ones below, that will make them regret ever asking in the first place. Note: the comments texted to me are on the left side of the picture, and my responses on the right.

6. Whom You Love

My mother always proclaims the mantra, ‘every pot has it’s lid”, meaning, there’s someone for everyone.  And just because your someone doesn’t match the qualifications or deal breakers of another, should not affect what your said love interest. Love isn’t a one-size fits all commodity, or one that we all have, for always. Enjoy your love, and as long as domestic abuse (verbal, physical, or sexual) isn’t anywhere in that relationship, ignore those who would like to tell you otherwise.

7. Why You and an Ex broke Up

People are so nosy, and usually they don’t constitute, ‘she was crazy!’ or ‘he’s such a dick!’ as a sufficient reason, and would like to dig deeper. Ignore them, and keep them pondering without spilling all the dirty details.

8. Your choice of music
In high school, the CD player in my car rotated between mix-cds, Nelly CD’s (namely the SweatSuite album), and 50 Cent’s get Rich or Die Tryin. I love hip-hop, and constantly get bombarded with ‘but you’re a little white girl from the ‘burbs’. Yea? No kidding?Not like I’ve owned a mirror or been very unaware of my geographic location for the past 21 & ½ years. Musical genres doesn’t define the type of people that should and could listen to them. Enjoy what makes you move, and don’t think twice when people tell you otherwise.

9. Why you don’t have a facebook/twitter/instagram/any sort of social media 

We have always heard that one person at the party proclaim, ‘I don’t have a facebook’, and the surrounding crowd around them gasping and inquiring as to ‘why’. This could also be said for other social networks, including twitter, or instagram. And because you don’t decide to follow societal norm doesn’t mean you have to explain why…and your life is also that much better for not getting barraged with not even near attractive #selfiesundays from people that may have cracked the camera lens during their own self photo-shoot.

10. Why you do/don’t like someone

We are all different. With different likes/dislikes. And if you don’t like someone else, due to a myriad of reasons, that is just fine.

11. Why you chose to join the military

If you ever incur meeting someone that is part of our military, the only comment that should be passed from you to them about their tenure in the armed services should only be one of gratitude, and that they stay safe. These people, who most of which you don’t even know made the conscious choice to defend and fight for your freedom and life while putting theirs at risk. Be humble, and always grateful that we live amongst such selfless men and women.

12. Your dreams

Dreams are batteries that keep our energizer battery bunnies still drumming. They are connected deeply in our core, and keeps so many of us motivated and looking to the future. Don’t you dare try to dash others dreams.

13. Having a life plan

Some people walk out of the womb with their entire life mapped out, while you, on the other hand, can’t even decide what to eat for lunch today. Just because someone else is so sure of where they want their life to go, doesn’t mean you have to as well! Half of the beauty of life is the unexpected, and it’s okay to revel in it longer than others.

14. Your money situation 

Not all bank accounts were created equally. Nor will they ever be. Kevin Hart touches upon this point both hysterically and poignantly, noting that we all can’t live to crazy extremes, and just because someone else does, doesn’t mean we do too. And yes, I’m citing Kevin Hart to make a point. Fucking deal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhM1dGyUca4

 

15. Your family situation
Families are like fingerprints – unique and different. Differences lie in the dynamics, traditions, and many other facets that compile a family. They shape the person you are; whom you become. It doesn’t matter if outsiders understand the familial hierarchy and the way in which your family is run.

16. Your Political Preference

Politics & religion; the two topics of conversation that I avoid when speaking to anyone. When people bring up politics, it’s usually so they can use it as a podium to declare their personal views upon you – just avoid it, and know that as an American, we have every right to believe whole heartedly what we want, and the freedom to exercise that.

17. Your health

Any health problems, progress, or meds you are currently taking/need to take is information that can solely remain between you and your doctor. Trust me, enlightening my mother to my birth control prescription is not on my to-do list anytime soon….unless I want a chastity belt slapped on me and sent to the country hills of Ireland to be a nun and be sentenced to a life on my knees for prayer.

To Be Crutched & Crushed

 

           According to my Facebook profile, I have twenty -eight photo albums uploaded to Facebook and over two thousand, five hundred pictures of myself online. These pictures are all from noteworthy moments in my life. Pictures from graduation, prom, birthdays and bashes flood my webpage daily. Facebook has a wonderful way of highlighting the happy moments, capturing the smiles and fun, and forgoing any of the pain that we happen to experience in this life. While the lightheartedness and laughter are captured by a lens and documented on my Facebook page, none of those pictures mean nearly as much as the ones trapped in my family’s private photo albums, nor do any harbor as much pain.

            On the bottom shelf of a bookcase located in my parent’s den, resides photo albums full of pictures from the conception of my family’s history. I dust off the cover, and open the album to hear the spine crack, almost as if it were stretching or yawning after a long hibernation. It’s as if it were saying to me, “Hey. I’m still here, no matter how hard you try to forget.” Flipping through the plastic-protected pictures are photos of people who are presumably my parents, but that I do not recognize. Pictures of a younger, thinner, and ridiculously in love couple about to begin their life together are the foundation to the family that they would become, that they would create. My fingers slide over the cool plastic, and stop on the page of their wedding pictures. Immediately my eyes well up with tears and my heart bears heavy with great sadness for them. These two people are about to embark on what they believe will be a life defined by love, adventure, happiness, and health. Their eyes are clouded by the cataracts of promise and potential that awaits them in years to come, and never could have foreseen what life actually had in store for them. My tears fall off my cheeks and onto my parents wedding pictures. I weep, only wishing I had the chance to warn the young couple in the photos, “Stop! Proceed with caution. If you continue on this path, tragedy awaits you in twenty six years”. Alas, I cannot, and as their life progressed on, their photo albums continued to expand as well. The albums are composed of snapshots of happy memories, better times, and a once complete family that was too short-lived.

In this picture, stands my brother Ryan and me. We are both on crutches, giving a thumbs up to the camera. We are in my living room, standing in front of our fireplace, its mantle, and the huge mirror that sits above both. I am a seventeen year old high school senior, and my brother is a college junior. It is November 2008.

This picture speaks volumes about this particular time in my life. I am dressed in a Springfield College sweatshirt, the school that I dreamed about attending after my graduation in June of that upcoming year. With admirable grades, good friends, and a complete family, my life could have at the time been described as “perfect”. My worries were small and my hopes so very high.

            Most weekends during the warm weathered months, you can find me on the tennis courts hitting with my dad, a ritual since my childhood. The day this picture was taken, I had just so happened to have fallen on the tennis court and twisted my ankle. Spraining my ankle was a common occurrence for me due to having previously broken it in junior high. Upon my arrival home, my mother gave me a pair of crutches to aid in my mobility until I was completely healed.

            Around my neck hangs a silver Return to Tiffany’s heart necklace. On one side imprinted is the signature “If Found, Return to Tiffany’s” logo, and on the other side inscribed is the message, “To Ern Love, Ryan”. Ern was the nickname Ryan had bestowed upon me. It was a rarity for me to go one day without hearing, “ERN!” echoing throughout the house, and the sounds of my brother’s heavy footsteps to follow.  I received this necklace two years prior on Christmas 2007 from Ryan. It is my most prized possession and it has resided around my neck ever since he gifted it to me.

            Ryan and I stand, both with thumbs up, and crutches at our sides. My ankle was sprained, and Ryan was recovering from knee surgery after a bucket meniscus tear to his ACL during a game of touch football. When Ryan saw me, bruised and banged up, he immediately told my mom (or ma, as he would say) to grab the camera and document the two Maher kids crutch-ing it up. It was both ridiculous and hilarious at the same time.

            Ryan was never camera shy, and always encouraged my mother to take as many pictures as possible. He loved to capture the lighter moments, the happiness. This moment was no exception. While we both may have been crippled, the fact that we were both going through this at the same time was just a wonderful coincidence. It also reminds me how much like Ryan I really was. We shared the same genes, but many of our mannerisms and motions were similar.

            The “Maher Guffaw” is the term I have placed upon the specific, almost rhythmic laughter that Ryan or I could be caught doing when neither of us could stop laughing – and we sounded identical. If you were lucky enough to catch us both guffawing in sync, it would send you into fits of laughter yourself. Ryan and I both shared an affinity for music, and daily would be introducing one another to a new song or artist we enjoyed – Coldplay, The Fray, Nelly – just to name a few. We used to take long drives late at night, with no destination, and listen to the various mix cd’s he made. There was not a dry eye in the car when Ryan would belt out renditions of current songs in the loudest, most obnoxious voice possible with the windows rolled down and everyone on the street wondering where that cacophonous racket was coming from. Ryan did not care who was around or how insane he potentially looked, he reveled in the wild and ridiculous, and was only too happy to make others laugh and smile at his own expense. We thankfully shared the same sense of humor. Ryan also was a magnificent dreamer and wonderful story teller. His imagination was constantly in motion and overflowing.  “Imagine if…”, “what if…” or “How funny would it be…” preceded most of his sentences. He was a master story teller, and always drew a crowd as he performed for his audience. It was comical to the degree how competitive we would be with each other. Substantial debates such as who liked kielbasa more, who the sexier Maher was, were subjects that we bantered about constantly. After repeatedly telling Ryan that he wasn’t allowed to visit me when I went away to college and refusing to tell him my final school decision, he stood up straight and triumphantly announced, “Erin, I will find you in a heartbeat”. After his declaration he raised a closed fist, beat it against his chest, and threw his arm out in the air with a finger pointed and cried, “BA-BOOM!”, impersonating the sound of a heartbeat.

            Sadly, Ryan’s heart didn’t manage to beat much longer after that event. At twenty one years much too young, Ryan’s heart beat for the last time in the wee hours of the morning on January 15, 2009. After a night of too much alcohol and too little judgment, Ryan lost his life after crashing his car into a telephone pole located right in the middle of our town about a mile down the road from our high school.

            Now my laugh is a little less hearty without its echoing twin. I still love taking long car rides, only my fellow passenger is not family, but a friend. Instead of listening to Ryan’s stories, I now tell my own through my writing. Although Ryan never got the chance to visit me at college, I still feel he’s with me, since I’m attending the same college that he did.

            Ryan’s life is over. His legacy is now confined to the people he met and the pictures in our family’s photo albums. While Ryan’s albums sit, unfinished and collecting dust, I must venture onward. As I live my life, taking new, happy snapshots and filling my own photo albums, none will ever be complete without this picture. And my life would never have been complete without Ryan.

Senior Skip Day

If I were Native American, I think my name would sound something along the lines of, “Err: One that frequently skips class”. As someone who could be a professional class cutter, I have, in my mind, created countless causes as excuses to skip class. The following are some legitimate reasons why you should avoid the academic prison that is class today.

15 Legitimate Causes for Cutting Class

1. You are wildly hungover. You are the personification of K dollar sign Ha’s (Ke$ha) lyric, “Brush my teeth with a bottle of jack.” Tastes like a solid morning to me.

2. You have no clean pants within the 5 foot radius surrounding your bed. Wait, where are your pants?

3. You decided a more productive time would be to play the Bingo Player’s, “Rattle” on repeat and dance so hard motherlover’s wanna find you. Dat shat cray.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYgSHOWNE0M

4. You haven’t purchased any of the books you’re supposed to be reading in class (FYI, you’re on your 3^rd novel this semester) – nor do you ever intend to.

5. Ryan Gosling is on one of the morning shows. Finger’s crossed it’s Live with Kelly & Michael – that Michael Strahan is so sassy!

Oh, Michael!

6. The weather is straight up fantastical. You got sunshine where as your day could be clouded by classes.

7.  Because you really enjoy hearing your roommate groan your name in her maternal, disapproving tone when you admit to her you skipped.

8.  ‘Cause YOLO.

Mulan’s Granny, FTW

9. So you can accomplish so many things you need to get done, which translates into watching Youtube videos. The entire time. Like this one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zce-QT7MGSE

10. You confused the days of the week again (this actually is super legit. One of my roommates has done that on more than one occasion.)

11. Color code your closet/liquor cabinet

12. If the opportunity for some reason presents itself, getting it in. Even if it happens to be at 9:30 in the morning. Gotta get it while you can.

13. Play tennis, or any other sport that does not involve being in a classroom.

14. Seeing what the colorful fruit loop of a muppet Abbelardo, Big Bird’s cousin, is up to this fine morning on Plaza Sesamo. WEPA.

Early Morning Bird Watching

15. Explaining to your roommate, that no, Josh Groban and WHAM! Are not the same group, and the lyrics are not as follows;
“You raise me up, before you go-go!”
George Michael’s would not be pleased.

Grumpy Cat > George Michaels