I Am Irrationally Irked by Uncomfortable Eye Contact

Awkward things follow me the way H follows G. 

After my last class this afternoon, I was enjoying my walk home. It was a lovely, brisk day, and I was trying to fully appreciate it. Naturally, my eyes wandered over my surroundings. But then they stopped wandering. Because, alas, they had alighted upon the guy I now have a date with Friday night. It happened like this:

Seriously, minus the fact that this is a commercial, I am not Indian, and neither of us collapsed in exhaustion, this is pretty darn accurate.

Okay.

Not really.

What happened was this:

I was walking. I happened to make eye contact with these two men who had just come from Baskin Robbins. I know this, because they were both eating ice cream. Rarely have I regretted eye contact more than I did at that moment. 

Ever seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding? Remember this gem of a scene when her dad is trying to hook her up?

(Don't knock on the video quality. It was the best I could find.)

Yeah. Really. This describes my life in so many ways. But for the sake of this post, let's just relive this moment for a hot second:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5PwpVgPyYQ

That's what happened with the guys from Baskin Robbins. Both of them. At the same time.

No.

Just no. 

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at locations that are not my bed

In the past 48 hours, I have slept very little. 
Very.
Very.
Little.


Most of the sleep I have gotten has been in the form of 5-15 minute power naps wherever I happen to be located. 


Places I have napped in the past two days:
My couch
My friend's couch
A booth in Panera
A window sill in Cabell
A staircase in Clark
Any class I am currently enrolled in
The floor of the MAC
An elevator (Don't you dare judge me.)


You get the picture. Allow me to point something out to you though.
None of these locations is a bed. 
It doesn't sound like that big of a deal. I'm overreacting, right?


False.


You try living like that for a few days. Don't come crying to me when you feel like you have the back of the hunchback of Notre Dame when he is eighty-eight and about to die. Actually, that's a terrible simile. BECAUSE AT LEAST HE'S ON A BED. The fact that it is his death bed is kind of irrelevant to this post. 
Don't call me morbid. I'm just telling it how it is.


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at 24 Hour Days

Ever feel like there just aren't enough hours in the day?
That's kind of my life. 
All the time.


I start thinking about it, and it is amazing how many of my problems could be solved if each day had even two more hours.  


Things I could do in a 26 hour day:
1. Finish hw (for once)
2. Learn a new musical instrument (guitar, harp, banjo, pretty much anything but a shofar)
3. Write more blog posts
4. Do laundry on a regular basis
5. Eat a meal that in no way involves food from Panera
6. Read something not assigned by a professor
7. Go bowling
8. Go on a date (this could, in theory, also be #7) (just a suggestion)
9. Start hiking again
10. Jam with musical friends. So many musical friends.
11. Create an internal arsenal of  puns that are ready for any occasion.


The possibilities are about as endless as the stack of reading that's currently on my desk.


Okay. 
Fine.
I'll be real.
All of that sounds splendid, but realistically, there's one thing I'd really love to have an extra two hours for.




Napping.




Add some sass to your I'msoexhaustedandsickofgoingto class, 
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at People Who Judge Me Incorrectly

So last night, I slept over at a friend's apartment. No big deal.
I hadn't originally planned on sleeping there, so when I went to her place I was just in yoga pants and a t shirt. My usual Friday night attire right there.


Anyway. I had breakfast plans early this morning, and I needed to stop back by my house before I went there, so I had to leave my friend's apartment rather early this morning. 


I borrowed a sweatshirt from her, because, alas, it was freezing this morning. So there I was, walking down Rugby at 8:25 in the morning, wearing yoga pants, a bright red Dollywood Christmas sweater, and looking like a mess.


I passed a few people on my way home.


Persons #1 and #2:
Thing One and Thing Two are both female and both clearly wearing their ensembles from the previous evening. Contrary to popular belief, I do not read minds; however, if I had to guess their thoughts judging from the way they looked at me as we passed each other, I think it would sound a bit like this:


"How did she get laid last night wearing that?"


Person #3:
A woman walking her two dogs. 
As a general rule, I am friendly towards other pedestrians. So, in my usual manner, I smile as we pass each other. Usually things turn out better. 
Instead of returning my smile, she sent me a look of extreme judgment. Kind of like this:

Seriously guys, I didn't have sex last night.
That was not the walk of shame.
I promise. 


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at Inappropriate Attire

Women at UVa, this one's for you.


As I mentioned yesterday, the weather has been rather damp. Logically, the presence of precipitation leads to a large-scale change in wardrobe in the population of UVa. 


I just don't understand why that change is the way it is. 


It's cold and wet, so you would think about rain jackets. Check. 
You would think umbrellas. Check
You're constantly passing through puddles or wading through small streams, so you think rain boots. Check.


But something is missing here. 


That something is a pair of pants.


Because leggings, my dear friends, are not pants. 
Yet for some reason, girls seem to be under the impression that some moisture in the air can transform one item of clothing into another. 
If, whenever it started raining, I took to wearing a large, stretchy mitten as a shirt, you would judge me. 
Same principle. 


It's okay to wear jeans with rain boots, I promise. We don't live in the seventies. Your jeans are not excessively flared. They will fit inside the boot. 


You have no excuse. 


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked at My Grace and Dignity

If you have met me, I doubt you will ever meet someone more clumsy. Congratulations, if you enjoy watching others trip or be awkward, look no further. I'm pretty much the best you'll find. No big deal. 


So here was the situation this morning:
It's raining. A lot. I may have forded a few streams on my way to class, and I can now better relate to the average salmon. 
Also, it's probably good to note that my shoes do not have a lot of traction.


So there I was, rushing to Hebrew at 8:57, trying desperately to be on time, knowing that three minutes would probably not allow me to make that happen. But I'm a desperate optimist, what can I say. 
I was rushing down the hall of Cabell, when SHAZAM. I slip. Into the guy walking right in front of me. He catches me. This is convenient. I am embarrassed. Especially since I was in the middle of lip syncing to Britney.


Guy: "Well hello there."
Me: "Well hello. Let's please pretend that didn't just happen." 
Guy: "Um, absolutely not."
Me: "Rude."


This is where I sassily walk away. 
Or attempt to, anyway.
I took one step, and almost face planted. Again. 


Guy: "Your life is not real."
Me: "I tell myself that more often than you would think."


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna

I am Irrationally Irked at Friends Who are Further Along On Assignments than I am

Sometimes, I get behind on work I need to do.


Okay. Fine. I'm always behind on work I need to do.


That's entirely my fault, and I'm not going to complain about it. 


But there's something else that irks me. Well, someone. Actually, it could be more than one someone. 


Possibilities: 
Person One: Over-Eager Oliver
This is the kid that writes papers a week before they're due. 
No. Just no. 


Person Two: Don't Care Dilbert
"Well, screw this. I don't care. I'm just bs-ing my way through this."
Yet somehow his story about cherry freeze pops is still more interesting than what you spent all night writing, praying to the gods of late night papers that what you are writing will be so beautiful it changes your professor's life. Forever. 


Person Three: Friendly Fred
This is the person you are actually friends with, who is also absurdly behind on the assignment, yet somehow, he manages to write much faster than you do. 
Friendly Fred is the worst, because you can't hate him. All you can do is write blog posts about him at 12:05 in the morning the day the assignment is due. 


Not that any of this is based on my experiences recently. 


Add some sass to your procrastinating class,
Jenna


Disclaimer: This is in no way directed at a specific person. Especially anyone whose name rhymes with Shpleric Shplamar. 

I Am Irrationally Irked At Dirty Laundry

Here's how things generally go with the laundry in my life:
I do laundry. I wear clothes. Life gets crazy. Time passes. I run out of clothes to wear. I don't have time to do laundry again yet.
One of two things then happens. I either look like this:

Or like this:

Those might be slight exaggerations. Slight being the operative word there. 

Anyway.

Today, I reached that point. I decided I would rather avoid the oversized Christmas sweater vibe (it becomes more common the closer I get to December), and I put on something a little bit nicer than what I usually wear. A little bit. I really don't look that fantastic today.

But apparently that is much more fantastic than usual. 

I've gotten a lot of compliments. That's swell. I'm not complaining.

Then I ran into a good friend of mine on the way to class today. Observe:

"Jenna!"

"Friend!"

"Wow. You look really nice today."

"Thanks. Much appreciated."

"You don't have a date tonight do you? Wait. Of course you don't. You're just behind on laundry aren't you?"

My life is far too predictable. 

Add some sass to your class,

Jenna

I Am Irrationally Irked At Customers Who Throw Off My Groove

So, I have a second job working nights at Panera. A lot of nights. Most nights. 

I work a lot.

Anyway.

Many a time during the night shift, we have lulls without any customers. I love these lulls. I am exceptionally irked when they end. There are several reasons for this. 

The main reason is this:

Customers throw off my groove. 

I am a cashier. This sounds absurd. 

But you know what?

I'm not absurd. 

I'm just a very musical person. 

Ringing people up doesn't (usually) involve music.

(This is a false statement when I am ringing you up.)

(Which is awkward.)

(For you.)

But part of my job is to make you feel comfortable. ("Panera, your everyday oasis." Yeah, that's a real slogan.)

So I have to stop.

Which means,

Congratulations customer, you just threw off my groove.

It's kind of like this:

If it wasn't clear, the customer is the old man in this situation. 


You know, sometimes I just want to belt Gaga or Adele without being judged. Is that really so much to ask?


Okay, yeah. 
Apparently.


Add some sass to your class,
Jenna