Three spiders have made their homes outside my apartment windows. Sometimes, I watch them spin their webs in the dark, orange streetlights barely illuminating the fibers. Usually they’re sheltered from the rainy Oregon weather but every so often, when it rains sideways, huge holes appear in the meticulously symmetrical designs. I’m always so amazed at the spiders’ diligence. They never stop. They’re never deterred. I’m assuming they’re never discouraged, though I don’t have much understanding of spider brains and emotions.

I’m proud of them. I’m inspired by them. They’re my little friends, my little roommates, and I root for them every night while I fall asleep. I hope they know how much I care about them. I hope they know how much they matter to me.

I hope they feel me, silently cheering them on in solidarity, because if they can rebuild, so can I.


I Miss My Snugglemuffin (This Is Why I’m Single)

So we have these things called sleeping porches in sorority houses. No, I don’t sleep outside on a porch, though lately it feels that way. They’re rooms that we sleep in on bunk beds…sort of like in the army. Or prison. And in my house, there’s no insulation. So this morning, I woke up to what felt like sub-zero temperatures (though it probably was about…I dunno, 40 degrees? 50? It’s really cold) and had to shuffle out of bed, all stiff and sad with a frozen nose and whatnot.

It’s hard. Not hard like “I never am warm and also I’m starving and poor” hard, cuz that’s obviously a lot harder than this will ever be. But it’s hard to sleep properly when you literally have to wear a hat to bed to stop the heat escaping through your ears.

Only two weeks. Then I move out and live in an apartment. I’m excited.


Sure, chubs, have a seat between me and my homework.

But what I most wanted to write about it this: I miss my cat, y’all. He slept in my bed almost the whole time I was home for break. This was my life: snuggle with cat, watch Dr. Who, snuggle with cat some more, realize cat is soooo photogenic and take 10 pictures of cat, take 5 pictures of self with cat, realize he’s cuter by himself, Instagram said pictures of cat, snuggle cat more because who’s a pretty boy?, have lunch with best friend/girlfriend Chloe, go home and watch Shahs of Sunset with Chloe, snuggle cat, cat loves Chloe, go to dinner with Chloe (because food is always on our minds), come home and snuggle with cat.

Basically, guys, I can’t get to sleep because Mickey isn’t laying on my feet as I drift into dreamland. He’d lay across both my feet and purr so violently that it was like a mini foot massage. I miss that. I miss my snugglemuffin.



He’s pretty cute. Sometimes he poses like a weirdo.

My Cat is Cuter Than Yours

20130309-231848.jpgThis topic is not up for discussion. My cat. Is cuter. Than yours.

Because I’m a nutcase cat lady and my cat is legitimately my boyfriend (He’s already wearing a tuxedo! He’s such a classy little gent!), I thought I’d show you a million pictures of him on my blog. I’m like that weird lady that keeps hundreds of pictures of her children in her wallet and accosts you at random moments to brag about their ballet performances, etc.

But you have chosen to be here. You clicked this link, and there’s no going back now. Look. Look at my cute cat.

20130309-231741.jpgAt this particular moment, Mickey had just murdered someone (probably one of my dear relatives, but apparently she wasn’t that dear because I haven’t noticed my cat ate her) and had that crazed look in his eyes. “Hello, Cappy. I am a serial killer. Blooood.”

20130309-231825.jpgThen he decided that tissue paper at Christmastime = snowbank. What a doll.

20130309-233139.jpgHe used to be a little midget! We got him from the Humane Society and I honestly wanted to name him Midge…thankfully, that didn’t happen because he’s 17 lbs now, all lean and fluffy and long. Meow.

20130309-231953.jpgHe lets me snuggle him sometimes in the sunshine. Ain’t nothin’ better.

Seriously, guys, I love my cat way too much.

I’m on Spring Break, muffins! This is very exciting, as I am 2 hours away from boarding a train to the midwest. Stay tuned for updates, since I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a murder, or someone will be stealing a diamond, or maybe we’ll be boarded by drug smugglers in Fargo…either way, something scandalous is bound to happen! Cheers, wish me luck, and TOOT TOOOOOOOOT!

Try Not to Pee. Just. Try.

So, I haven’t written in a while (obviously). Finals are next week and life’s been nuts, but you all know that! For the time being, I wanted to show you some videos I’ve seen lately. We all love animals being silly, so I’ve brought you three of those. And since dancing children is another crowd pleaser, have one of those too :)

Love you all! Enjoy!

1. I’ve watched this way more times than I should admit:

2. This has become my new favorite way of saying no:

3. Yay quacking dog!

He’s better than Elvis (Pay particular attention to 1:25 when he finishes):


Every time I feel down, a bunny hops out of a bush. And I’m not exaggerating that much.

Okay, I’m exaggerating a little.

A few weeks ago, I was having a really rough day and was walking home kind of late, when a bunny hopped out from a bush. I got really close to it (trying to take pictures with a cell phone requires you to be really close) when an airplane flew overhead and that rabbit jumped about three feet in the air, its limbs splayed every which way. I can’t lie, it was probably the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen…Anyway, it eventually came out of it’s hiding place  and sniffed around for a bit before running off again, at which point I headed home.

Well, today was pretty rough too. I’d been running in about nine directions for the past 14 hours (mainly covering an event for the newspaper while at the same time trying to write a geology paper and then go to lab) and was finally walking home at night when I came by the same spot I’d seen the bunny before.

“I remember that time I felt really bad and then I saw a bunny and felt better,” I thought to myself.

AND THEN A BUNNY HOPPED OUT OF THE BUSHES. I must’ve looked like a grinning idiot. Then another came out and I practically split my face in half…and then another hopped after the second one.

And then there were four. Four little bunnies scampering around like…scampering things. It was like Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter were out to play right before my eyes while I basically  had a heart attack at age 18. I watched them for a few minutes before they bopped down a hill and out of sight and I set home and called my boyfriend.

I was kind of incoherent, honestly. “FOUR BUNNIES! FOUR BUNNIES FOUR. FOUR BUNNIES.” I probably sounded like that fish from Finding Nemo who’s obsessed with bubbles and yells, “BUBBLESSSS! My bubbles.” That was me. Bunnies! Bunnies!

But honestly, what could possibly make you happier than four little bunnies? Just Google “bunny pile” and you’ll know what I’m talking about.