I’m done with finals until Saturday afternoon, although I do have to move home in the meantime. But I’d much rather pack and haul and pack and haul than try to stuff more Synthetic Cubism/Freud theories/Kafke into my cranium while eating two entire boxes of teddy grahams in one sitting. Which I did yesterday. I have become way too familiar with the little guys. Did you know that if you hold up a teddy graham to the front of its box and place it directly over the picture of one of its comrades it’s the exact same size? It is. But the front of the box doesn’t say “actual size” anywhere. Which is weird. They have five g whole grains per serving. I don’t know if that’s significant. But they do taste kind of wheaty.
I guess Nabisco’s target age group for Teddy Grahams is probably more interested in crumbling up sticky handfuls of them than comparing them to the graphics on their box. But I don’t know. Sunbeams can be awfully intuitive.
Teddy Grahams have been my most bosom friend this week. I have had a lot of conversations with and done a lot of experiments on them instead of studying. When it’s memorize-the-twelve-stages-of-intimacy or see-if-the-teddy-graham-fits-in-the-power-outlet, I choose the power outlet. Along with several dozen other crevices that I have attempted to force my little friends into throughout my dorm room.
THIS WEEK, I HAVE STUCK A TEDDY GRAHAM (OR SEVERAL) INTO:
1. a power outlet, which retained some crumbs. Actually about half of T.G.’s little body. So, that particular outlet is out of order until I can find something sharp and little enough to scrape him out with. Something that’s not metal.
2. My nose. And I can guarantee that any comment on this post will be about how disgusting that is. I didn’t eat it afterwards. I put it on my desk. I don’t know what to do with it. It’s a perfectly good little guy and my trashcan has been full for like eight days.
3. The air vent. I thought maybe the room would smell inviting and honey-grahamy if I lined those babies up in the slots of the vent—about twenty. But nothing happened. Maybe it’s because my roommate likes to keep the heat off, even in the middle of a blizzard. Or monsoon. With the window open. No big deal.
4. The little hole on the smoke detector. Woot woot. That was not exciting.
OTHER ASSORTED ACTIVITIES:
1. Pyramids. No I really did make pyramids of them. But they have to lie on their backs because their fronts are too bumpy and they don’t exactly have elbows or knees.
2. Discussions on how bad we really do feel for Britney Spears. We watched a video of her on youtube together, crying on TV. It was sad.
3. Excursions into every edible paste, spread, dip, or liquid in the room. And then into my mouth. (peanut butter, salsa, nutella, queso cheese stuff, diet coke, raspberry jam, milk, v8 juice, ginger ale, mango tango odwalla smoothie, etc)
4. Acrobatics. The little suckers flick really far. And I actually made a few into the Styrofoam bowl I placed on Jessie’s bed. The rest had hairs brushed off of them and were placed back into the box to be eaten later.
I was this close to making clothes for some of them, but their figures aren’t very forgiving. Plus they’re edible. So I eat them before having enough patience to make outfits.
I don’t wonder why I get Cs. But hey, man, Cs get degrees. And I have a very active social life.