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Today, I forced myself to wake up at the god-awful time of 9 a.m.. I realize this time might not be so painful nor early to most of you, but as a student whose main goal for choosing classes for the semester was to insure not a single one started before 11 a.m., the pain in forcing myself out of bed before the sun is attempting to stab directly into my skull is equivalent to taking a cheese grater to my bits. Of course, waking up at 9 a.m. means my alarm going off at 9 a.m. while I groan in bed for the next 15 minutes or so about how temperamental my heater is. The new heaters the school installed have to be the biggest misers on the planet. After a few weeks of experimentation with them, I discovered they just guess at what temperature the room is, preferring to err on the side that makes them work less. So when I entered my freezing as fuck room yesterday and cranked the heater up to 77 degree, it sat quietly like I had just told a joke about its recently deceased mother.
Moving on, I decided to wake up this early because I felt obligated to get breakfast this morning and the dining hall closes at 9:30 a.m.. I had been suckered into signing up for the 12 meal plan before I realized being a senior has made me more desperate to separate myself from the incoming classmen than Tea Party members from their nickname "T-baggers." Thus, I spend my three day weekends hiding in Santa Monica and cannot make use of all of the meals I've paid for unless I subject myself to early morning breakfast. Being a cheap fuck, this is enough to occasionally force myself to resurrect earlier than preferred.
When I ventured out of my room this morning, I could feel my non-existent testicles trying to burrow deeper into my body for warmth. I tried to ignore the shame at shivering at a mere 45 degrees when my Seattle-born child self would have been running around in a tank top and ignoring the recess teachers trying to corral and force a jacket on me. My ability to withstand the cold has been reduced so much that the last time I was inebriated in the Seattle area, I attempted to snuggle so close to a space heater that I still have burn scars on my leg. Being in southern California makes me an absolute wimp when it comes to cold weather and the fact I'm dating what would seem to be an industrial heater in the disguise of a man does nothing to help my newfound pussiness to the cold.
Anyway, the dining hall was surprisingly empty, meaning the line for smoothies was practically nonexistent. There never used to be a line for them, as we students were allowed to run them ourselves instead of tasking one of the poor kitchen staff to trying to both collect the frozen fruits and blend them for us. However, students from all girls college across the street had a tendency to break the blenders, so they were whisked away from us like a joy from a poor child on Christmas. Now, why a pack of women who seem to be going to college for their MRS degree more so than their women's studies cannot work a blender of all things is beyond me. Regardless, due to the blender incidents, their general existence in the dining hall makes me slightly grumpier in the morning than my recent nightmare of the one of GOP candidates trying to murder me. Back when we could use the blenders on our own, I'd make a delicious "smoothie" consisting of two scoops of strawberry ice cream, whole milk and additional strawberries. That concoction was one of the few things that could keep my hunger down until lunch without making my stomach explode.
I have a terrible need to eat every hour or so, probably meaning I was a Hutt in a past life. Poor Serif suffers from this as I normally wake him up in the morning by bouncing up and down on his stomach like an angsty cat whining "Feed meeeeee..." as pitifully as I can muster. He often tries to convince me to go make myself cereal, one of the few items of food that survives in that house of four males, before I remind him that I will only eat it with whole milk and not the odd white planet juices he prefers. Seriously, if I wanted my breakfast to taste like watered-down plant splooge, I'd be one of those people who eats wheatgrass.
Anyway, after devouring my smoothie and other breakfast goodies, I've decided to huddle under the warmth of my laptop (the heater still hasn't decided to come on) and write a blog. I realize this one has nothing to do with anything, but if you've gotten this far, you've at least been mildly entertained or you're just a masochist.
 
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Another fantastic Riku blog! 5/5. Even if it was about nothing you have such good sentences that allow me to picture the different situations you were in. Well done. 
As for being a wimp in 45 degree weather. I live in Iowa. We've had a few days that have broken 60 degrees. Our bodies are slightly confused as well when winter decides to rear it's ugly head and drop 20 degree weather with -9 degree windchills on us. Not quite the same but with the way this winter has been here I feel I can kind of relate.
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Tough decision, but not seeing myself as an masochist must mean that I was at least mildly entertained
Been a while since I´ve seen a blog from you (maybe I was just blind though), so nice to hear your okay (And by "okay" I mean : everything is great, and all you´ve got to whine about is cold weather :D)
Although I kinda understand you : I hate cold weather too, its just that our definition of "cold" maybe a little bit different :D
Up to about ... *searching for a fahrenheit to celsius scale* .... about 35 degree is pretty much okay to just use my bike to get around (its normally not very windy around here though). Everything beneath that is too cold and I pretty much won´t leave the house when possible.
Hope everything turns out well for you over there
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Reminds me of living in the dorms with my buddy sophmore year. We were lucky enough to be in one of the new buildings that had pretty nice individual heating/cooling units in each room. I would always turn the thing all the way up, and everytime he came in he would turn it back down. Good times, lol we got along fine though.
Although 45 degrees is nothing to complain about.
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I understand how hard it is to make it to breakfast. The only time I've ever made it to breakfast in college was during freshman orientation  .
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I will only eat it with whole milk and not the odd white planet juices he prefers. Seriously, if I wanted my breakfast to taste like watered-down plant splooge, I'd be one of those people who eats wheatgrass.
rofl
anyways, huzzah for Riku ~~
I really need to retrain myself to withstand cold TT. visiting northern-ish cali a few times every year was really helpful until i discovered how comfortable sweatshirts are :C
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Claremont's such a sunny, warm place, don't complain! try Scotland \:
Other than that I'm glad you mudders are keeping up the good fight against the morning hours, teach 'em who's boss (:
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if you want to wake up at 9, try to wake up at 8. The alarm will go off at 8, but it will give a whole hour to get yourself out of the bed :D
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5/5 pro poster number one
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I wish it was cold it it was 70 degrees when I left for school this morning
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On January 18 2012 03:36 Riku wrote:
Today, I forced myself to wake up at the god-awful time of 9 a.m.. I realize this time might not be so painful nor early to most of you, but as a student whose main goal for choosing classes for the semester was to insure not a single one started before 11 a.m., the pain in forcing myself out of bed before the sun is attempting to stab directly into my skull is equivalent to taking a cheese grater to my bits. Of course, waking up at 9 a.m. means my alarm going off at 9 a.m. while I groan in bed for the next 15 minutes or so about how temperamental my heater is. The new heaters the school installed have to be the biggest misers on the planet. After a few weeks of experimentation with them, I discovered they just guess at what temperature the room is, preferring to err on the side that makes them work less. So when I entered my freezing as fuck room yesterday and cranked the heater up to 77 degree, it sat quietly like I had just told a joke about its recently deceased mother.
Moving on, I decided to wake up this early because I felt obligated to get breakfast this morning and the dining hall closes at 9:30 a.m.. I had been suckered into signing up for the 12 meal plan before I realized being a senior has made me more desperate to separate myself from the incoming classmen than Tea Party members from their nickname "T-baggers." Thus, I spend my three day weekends hiding in Santa Monica and cannot make use of all of the meals I've paid for unless I subject myself to early morning breakfast. Being a cheap fuck, this is enough to occasionally force myself to resurrect earlier than preferred.
When I ventured out of my room this morning, I could feel my non-existent testicles trying to burrow deeper into my body for warmth. I tried to ignore the shame at shivering at a mere 45 degrees when my Seattle-born child self would have been running around in a tank top and ignoring the recess teachers trying to corral and force a jacket on me. My ability to withstand the cold has been reduced so much that the last time I was inebriated in the Seattle area, I attempted to snuggle so close to a space heater that I still have burn scars on my leg. Being in southern California makes me an absolute wimp when it comes to cold weather and the fact I'm dating what would seem to be an industrial heater in the disguise of a man does nothing to help my newfound pussiness to the cold.
Anyway, the dining hall was surprisingly empty, meaning the line for smoothies was practically nonexistent. There never used to be a line for them, as we students were allowed to run them ourselves instead of tasking one of the poor kitchen staff to trying to both collect the frozen fruits and blend them for us. However, students from all girls college across the street had a tendency to break the blenders, so they were whisked away from us like a joy from a poor child on Christmas. Now, why a pack of women who seem to be going to college for their MRS degree more so than their women's studies cannot work a blender of all things is beyond me. Regardless, due to the blender incidents, their general existence in the dining hall makes me slightly grumpier in the morning than my recent nightmare of the one of GOP candidates trying to murder me. Back when we could use the blenders on our own, I'd make a delicious "smoothie" consisting of two scoops of strawberry ice cream, whole milk and additional strawberries. That concoction was one of the few things that could keep my hunger down until lunch without making my stomach explode.
I have a terrible need to eat every hour or so, probably meaning I was a Hutt in a past life. Poor Serif suffers from this as I normally wake him up in the morning by bouncing up and down on his stomach like an angsty cat whining "Feed meeeeee..." as pitifully as I can muster. He often tries to convince me to go make myself cereal, one of the few items of food that survives in that house of four males, before I remind him that I will only eat it with whole milk and not the odd white planet juices he prefers. Seriously, if I wanted my breakfast to taste like watered-down plant splooge, I'd be one of those people who eats wheatgrass.
Anyway, after devouring my smoothie and other breakfast goodies, I've decided to huddle under the warmth of my laptop (the heater still hasn't decided to come on) and write a blog. I realize this one has nothing to do with anything, but if you've gotten this far, you've at least been mildly entertained or you're just a masochist.
Not sure how to feel about this one, Riku xD It made me laugh, but its one of those "should I have laughed at that" kind of thing. lolz.
Anywaaay, I added your bf Serif on FB muhahahaha, the satisfaction of having a Riot Employee on a friends list (lets keep it secret, shall we?) And you should post on the LoL forums again
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5/5 for making me laugh :D
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how come my cat's never as cute as others when she's hungry? she's like a grouchy old lady who won't stop complaining about the kids on her lawn.
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On January 18 2012 03:49 Xinder wrote:Another fantastic Riku blog! 5/5. Even if it was about nothing you have such good sentences that allow me to picture the different situations you were in. Well done.
Haha, thanks, that was my goal. ;D
On January 18 2012 04:56 rUiNati0n wrote:I understand how hard it is to make it to breakfast. The only time I've ever made it to breakfast in college was during freshman orientation .
Yeah, getting out of bed before absolutely necessary is highly overrated. Unfortunately, it makes me wonder the necessity of many of my classes...
On January 18 2012 05:56 Br3ezy wrote:
if you want to wake up at 9, try to wake up at 8. The alarm will go off at 8, but it will give a whole hour to get yourself out of the bed :D
If I give myself an hour, I'll just go back to sleep.
I've found 30 minutes is perfect. Give me 15 minutes of bitching and 15 minutes to get ready. I really only need 3 minutes to get ready, but I like checking the interwebs before I leave.
On January 18 2012 08:33 RogerX wrote:Show nested quote +On January 18 2012 03:36 Riku wrote:
Today, I forced myself to wake up at the god-awful time of 9 a.m.. I realize this time might not be so painful nor early to most of you, but as a student whose main goal for choosing classes for the semester was to insure not a single one started before 11 a.m., the pain in forcing myself out of bed before the sun is attempting to stab directly into my skull is equivalent to taking a cheese grater to my bits. Of course, waking up at 9 a.m. means my alarm going off at 9 a.m. while I groan in bed for the next 15 minutes or so about how temperamental my heater is. The new heaters the school installed have to be the biggest misers on the planet. After a few weeks of experimentation with them, I discovered they just guess at what temperature the room is, preferring to err on the side that makes them work less. So when I entered my freezing as fuck room yesterday and cranked the heater up to 77 degree, it sat quietly like I had just told a joke about its recently deceased mother.
Moving on, I decided to wake up this early because I felt obligated to get breakfast this morning and the dining hall closes at 9:30 a.m.. I had been suckered into signing up for the 12 meal plan before I realized being a senior has made me more desperate to separate myself from the incoming classmen than Tea Party members from their nickname "T-baggers." Thus, I spend my three day weekends hiding in Santa Monica and cannot make use of all of the meals I've paid for unless I subject myself to early morning breakfast. Being a cheap fuck, this is enough to occasionally force myself to resurrect earlier than preferred.
When I ventured out of my room this morning, I could feel my non-existent testicles trying to burrow deeper into my body for warmth. I tried to ignore the shame at shivering at a mere 45 degrees when my Seattle-born child self would have been running around in a tank top and ignoring the recess teachers trying to corral and force a jacket on me. My ability to withstand the cold has been reduced so much that the last time I was inebriated in the Seattle area, I attempted to snuggle so close to a space heater that I still have burn scars on my leg. Being in southern California makes me an absolute wimp when it comes to cold weather and the fact I'm dating what would seem to be an industrial heater in the disguise of a man does nothing to help my newfound pussiness to the cold.
Anyway, the dining hall was surprisingly empty, meaning the line for smoothies was practically nonexistent. There never used to be a line for them, as we students were allowed to run them ourselves instead of tasking one of the poor kitchen staff to trying to both collect the frozen fruits and blend them for us. However, students from all girls college across the street had a tendency to break the blenders, so they were whisked away from us like a joy from a poor child on Christmas. Now, why a pack of women who seem to be going to college for their MRS degree more so than their women's studies cannot work a blender of all things is beyond me. Regardless, due to the blender incidents, their general existence in the dining hall makes me slightly grumpier in the morning than my recent nightmare of the one of GOP candidates trying to murder me. Back when we could use the blenders on our own, I'd make a delicious "smoothie" consisting of two scoops of strawberry ice cream, whole milk and additional strawberries. That concoction was one of the few things that could keep my hunger down until lunch without making my stomach explode.
I have a terrible need to eat every hour or so, probably meaning I was a Hutt in a past life. Poor Serif suffers from this as I normally wake him up in the morning by bouncing up and down on his stomach like an angsty cat whining "Feed meeeeee..." as pitifully as I can muster. He often tries to convince me to go make myself cereal, one of the few items of food that survives in that house of four males, before I remind him that I will only eat it with whole milk and not the odd white planet juices he prefers. Seriously, if I wanted my breakfast to taste like watered-down plant splooge, I'd be one of those people who eats wheatgrass.
Anyway, after devouring my smoothie and other breakfast goodies, I've decided to huddle under the warmth of my laptop (the heater still hasn't decided to come on) and write a blog. I realize this one has nothing to do with anything, but if you've gotten this far, you've at least been mildly entertained or you're just a masochist.
Not sure how to feel about this one, Riku xD It made me laugh, but its one of those "should I have laughed at that" kind of thing. lolz. Anywaaay, I added your bf Serif on FB muhahahaha, the satisfaction of having a Riot Employee on a friends list (lets keep it secret, shall we?) And you should post on the LoL forums again
Haha, nice. He's a really nice guy, too. I'll work on getting active on the LoL forums.
On January 18 2012 10:08 Roe wrote:
how come my cat's never as cute as others when she's hungry? she's like a grouchy old lady who won't stop complaining about the kids on her lawn.
Well, I'm sure she's as persistent as I am. Admittedly, I turn into a raging monster if my blood sugar falls too low, but I generally go the cute route when trying to get fed.
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Good write up. The testicales things was vivid to say the least.
Very funny. Keep it up.
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Yaaay for cold weather >.> In cali atm, and gonna be going to college in socal lol. Can't wait for things to heat up a bit, I've been getting a ton of bloody noses because apparently the air is really dry and that bothers my nose...
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I'm an entertained masochist. I think.
Fuck cold weather though. It's 0 Celsius where I live and I miss the year-round 30 Celsius tropics where I used to live. TT Also I should get to work finding an industrial heater disguised as a woman.
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Nothing better than talking in purely terrible analogies
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On January 18 2012 11:53 Ephemerality wrote:
Yaaay for cold weather >.> In cali atm, and gonna be going to college in socal lol. Can't wait for things to heat up a bit, I've been getting a ton of bloody noses because apparently the air is really dry and that bothers my nose...
Oh? Which college?
On January 18 2012 12:17 Mobius_1 wrote:
I'm an entertained masochist. I think.
Fuck cold weather though. It's 0 Celsius where I live and I miss the year-round 30 Celsius tropics where I used to live. TT Also I should get to work finding an industrial heater disguised as a woman.
Careful, I think women are cold by nature so they are more compelled to find a man to snuggle up with.
On January 18 2012 12:19 Divinek wrote:
Nothing better than talking in purely terrible analogies
Sex.
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EPT
