Sleeping and Vampires

Bah. Sleep. Who needs it anyway right? Internet, this week marks a new low for me. I already get barely enough acceptable amounts of sleep as it is but this week may just take the cake with a calculated average of 3 hours of sleep a night for the past 4 days. By the way, what the hell does the phrase 'take the cake' actually mean anyway? I mean, who is taking all the delicious cake and more importantly why is that person not me? What is this injustice?! I would like to suggest that in the future, if anyone wants to use delicious cake to prove a point, I will be the designated taker. My stomach will gladly take it off your hands. As a hint, I really like strawberries and cheesecake. Mmmmm.....

That picture is a outstanding representation of how energetic I feel right now. Every cell in my body, is screaming TAURINECOCAINECAFFEINE!! Especially the dark circles. They're screaming the loudest. They must have cell megaphones or something.

By the way, while I am sharing with all of you, the hidden joys of sleep deprivation, my brain is jabbing me furiously in the pain cortex. It wishes to express its sincere displeasure. But you know what?  I am cool with my brain doing that. I am all for bodily democracy because I believe in organ autonomy and organ rights. However, I wish my brain would at least initiate polite conversation instead of making my right knee cap feel like someone is slow roasting it in a concoction of 14M hydrochloric acid, 98% alcohol, zinc over a solid state palladium catalyst and Brisk lemon tea. Admittedly, I am not a diplomat and my idea of diplomacy is "stop bitching and call me in the morning anytime after 2pm" but when someone says something you don't approve of, shouldn't you at least talk it out first? Compromise over some English tea and biscuits? Well apparently, my brain forgot that lesson and decided to go straight for a pre-emptive strike on my by-standing knee cap. I think my brain graduated from diplomacy school alongside its colleagues Stalin, Mr. Burns, Kim Jong Il and Kanye West.

But I do have to admit that for my complaining about my brain's complaining, it's not entirely wrong.
I googled all the side effects of not sleeping and have compiled a list of symptoms which I have listed here for your viewing pleasure and or educational benefit. At the top of the list: Tiredness due to increasing sleep debt. You know how literary folk often write flowery sentences like,"the graceful placement of her favorite fresh cut daffodils on the linen tablecloth calmed the resentment disrupting her mind and replaced it with feelings of quiet joy" when they really mean, "There are flowers on the table. Girl decides to quit her bitching"? The statement "tiredness due to increasing sleep debt" is a scientist's way of saying, "you are sleepy when you have not slept." Can I just say...best discovery EVER? Other obvious symptoms include constant yawning and declining ability to concentrate or focus. I think this list is pretty accurate but the good science folk missed a few key symptoms.

For instance, the most common side effect is a sudden inexplicable dislike of all things cute and perky. This includes baby pandas and baby carrots because they are evil. You may also experience an irrational fear of the muffin man. But most significantly in the extreme cases of sleep deprivation, you come to realize that it is perfectly okay if you never find true love because your soul mate and personal Disney have been combined into one irrationally beautiful mattress, comforter and pillow set.

<3 I LOVE YOU <3 *insert high pitched fangirl squeal*

Anyway, despite all these shenanigans, I have to say that I am amazingly functional with little sleep and my days and nights have actually been reversed. This made me realize something. On top of being a secret Saiyan as well as a cake eating detective, I must also be a secret vampire. Not one of those Stephenie Meyer monstrosities that sparkle in the light like a drag queen's tacky sequin dress. I mean, the badass ones that die when you stick a stake through their hearts. Just like everything else. But don't assume I dislike everything about Twilight (only about 99% of it). There is one part of the Twilight verse that I like because according to Meyers, my eyes are not dark because I am Asian. So screw Mendel and his pea plants, MY eyes are dark because I am a starving vampire. RAWR.

2 Bad 2 Incomprehensible

Internet, it's that time again. I have a Microbiology exam and a Logic exam in 2 days and as I don't yet feel sufficiently screwed enough to make myself study... It is time to do what I do best. Procrastinate.
Actually, I am lying slightly when I said I wasn't doing anything productive. You see, I was studying prior to this post until the song "Tokyo Drift" by the Teriyaki Boyz started playing on my ipod.
I have no idea what possessed me to put that song on my ipod, but I am terribly ashamed of having it there for two reasons. Number one, any artist or band who still think its cool to misspell things like 'boys' on purpose are terribly mistaken. They must be slapped. That stopped being cute around the time when typing LiEk Th!s stopped being cute. Actually it stopped being cute the nanosecond someone came up with the idea. Secondly, Teriyaki Boyz? Really? Do you really need to name your band something that makes it sound like a cheap fast food chain that sells mediocre Japanese food but still pretends to be culturally relevant because you serve green tea instead of water as the default beverage?

Alright, so I'm just kidding around. Mostly. I'm feeling generous. So I'm going to give the Teriyaki Boys (yes Boys, not Boyz) the benefit of the doubt. I'm going to pretend that at their launch party, when they electronically submitted a request to Kinkos for banners and posters, they accidentally hit 'z' instead of 's' and then clicked submit.  To this day they probably rue that moment. I like this explanation. It lets me think that they aren't purposely trying to look stupid.

Having said all that, to their credit, Tokyo Drift is an extremely catchy song but it has one fatal flaw. I have no idea what the hell they are saying. Before anyone points out the obvious here, I do realize the song is mostly in Japanese and my rudimentary Japanese doesn't help with comprehension BUT I maintain that I should at least understand the English parts of the song. I can't. So what did I do? I looked up the song lyrics on google. Now keep in mind this is the first result that pops up on google.

Apparently, I am not the only one who has trouble with this song.

Awkward Introduction

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And Now, Legality

To butcher a Jane Austen quote, it is a truth universally acknowledged that in every college class there must be one poor bastard who shows up looking slightly more ridiculous than usual. You will immediately recognize these people because they will usually meet one or a mix of the following criteria:

1) Disheveled or unwashed hair
2) Mismatched clothing
3) Smeared make up (Now applies to both boys and girls!)

However, what immediately gives these people away is the reek of last night that follows them around like a unwanted cloud of perfumed ass and beer.  E'au de yesterdays mistakes. Sounds like a best seller! So when these delightful people are around, you go to class, but really, its like you're going to a bar instead which explains your sudden unexplainable urge to drink apple martinis.

Usually I watch these people from afar but Internet today, I was that person. When I got up this afternoon the first thing I thought was the fundamental question asked by inebriated college students everywhere: WHY is it so difficult to stand up? That should have been the sign to stay at home. I did not stay at home. Being a super awesome Asian I actually went to class. Nothing can stand in the way of getting an education! Even if that obstacle is me! Funny thing is, I was delusional enough to think maybe no one would notice if I tried really hard to look presentable. WRONG. I should have realized this when the guy I sat next to started to slowly migrate his belongings to the next seat over.

At this point you may be thinking... Today is Columbus Day so you shouldn't have had class you lying verbose Jezebel! So let me first clear up that misunderstanding by explaining how NYU operates.

On the rare occasion that NYU peeks its nose up from bookkeeping its growing real estate business and remembers its secondary venture as an educational institution, NYU goes, 'Oh shit! We actually have to fulfill a quota of school days to receive our tax benefits!' They then presumably looked at the calendar and made a youtube worthy 'Oh Fuck' face because they realized...they were short by just one day. What can be done to remedy this terrible situation?!

Now this is how I imagine this went down. In a giant conference room with an obnoxiously long oak table that seats twenty people, two men went through a master list of solutions. Now they can't exactly add one more day before Christmas because we already have exams until Christmas Eve's Eve. So they realized...if the only reason class would not be held is because of holidays, the only solution is to ERASE A HOLIDAY. Now the issue is.... which one? Thanksgiving? Columbus Day? Christmas? Ah,  the decisions!

I think we can all see how it went from there. They couldn't get rid of Thanksgiving because that would be un-American and un-patriotic. Both of these things are very bad for NYU's future presidential campaign. NYU 2010! No longer just a graduating class! They couldn't get rid of Christmas /Hanukkah/ Kwanzaa because all hell fire would be unleashed because then no one would be home to receive presents! Or observe the religious event whichever euphemism for "we don't want to work for a week" works better.  So really, by simple process of elimination, Columbus Day got the axe. They wouldn't say that though. They'd credit it to going green somehow.

The Eve Before Legality

I don't know how time has managed to pass so quickly but it needs to stop so I can think for a minute. I need a twix moment. Internet, I am turning 21 in approximately one hour and seven minutes. It's 10:53 pm EST). 21!! That means I've been alive (presumably doing something significant) for over two decades now!! Insanity! Maybe someone will give me a Nobel Prize in Medicine/Physiology for my extraordinary efforts in hoping to discover the cure to cancer by my third decade. And maybe they'll give me one for all the extraordinary effort I put into being the bundle of joy that I am. They can call that the Prize for Badassery. I don't know about the necessary qualifications but hey it sounds just about as legitimate as the Nobel Prize for Literature. Burn. Haha, I kid. I love to read but I just can't imagine the conversations the nominees at the committee must have. The science people would be like: "So, I discovered a new target for retroviruses so we can develop more advanced drugs to treat HIV/AIDS. Why are you here?" And the literature people would be like..."Oh...I'm here because I write real pretty and stuff. Yeah..." And then there would be a huge awkward silence and everyone would make excuses to leave like, "Oh this conversation was delightful but I think that plant over there is puking. I should go hold its hair back so it doesn't get vomit on its new black dress." and then pretend that exchange never happened.

ANYWAY, to get back on topic. 21. You know what? I never make a huge sentimental deal about birthdays but for some reason this one felt slightly different. Mostly because as I was doing my Logic homework, I had this realization that after today, I could never again enjoy the delights of an illegally purchased drink. The things I used to take for granted! After I realized that, I just had to have one last one for old times sake. Sort of like Jesus's last supper only on a much smaller but equally significant scale. You see, Jesus had a last dinner with his disciples to spread on final words of wisdom. This last drink is the equivalent of telling my liver with tears glistening in my eyes, 'Man, you and I, we go back. You were there for me when I needed you the most when my ear became an alcoholic. Thanks for all your hard work. I love you man.' and my liver would smile politely and do a terrorist fist bump with me but secretly be thinking, 'I need a new host ASAP.' And next thing I know, I'll see ads for liver transplants on Adsense. My liver is the Judas of my body.

So, here it is in all of its improperly focused glory ladies and gentlemen. The final drink. Picture taken courtesy of my terrible camera.

In case you couldn't tell (I would be surprised if you could), its a bottle of grape flavored soju. I was convinced for a while that this thing was not in fact alcohol and that the world was playing a practical joke on me because it tasted uncannily like Grape Fanta. Only when the familiar sleepiness kicked in did I realize... I was a fool for doubting! So today I bid farewell to the rush of adrenaline you get as you walk up to purchase alcohol at the counter. Farewell to the days of praying that I looked older than my 14 year old face. Today I say a fond farewell to the days of being 20.

Anatomy of a Phail Poster

Ahhh... the fire alarm. I forgot how they consistently alert me of my impending death by burning. The only problem is, in college more often than not, they're just overzealous bastards who just want to remind me that they still exist. They're like the Jack Russell Terriers in the world of electronic devices. You know, you stop paying attention to them for just a second and BAM! You have to start shopping for a new couch. Only instead of eating your couch, the fire alarm starts screaming at you and you just stand there blankly, wondering where you went wrong. NYU's fire alarms are particularly obnoxious. Not only are they freaking loud, they also have some added strobe light effect that kind of makes you feel like you're at a club. A weird anti-club where everyone's trying to get the hell out.

Anyway, the fire alarm went off a few days ago. Not too bad really, except that it was at 5 in the fucking morning. Adding to my displeasure, it was the morning of my neuroscience exam. Since I wasn't fully awake, I acted in a rather Pavlov-ian manner. I grudgingly got up and scrambled around for my glasses to evacuate the building. It was right around when I had my hand on the door handle that my brain started functioning properly. In addition to the alarm screaming, my own brain was now screaming WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? GET BACK TO BED RIGHT THIS INSTANT!  And so I did. I recklessly returned to bed. I figured if this fire were real, someone would tell me. Or something like that.

Anyway the morning after the fake fire I found this curiosity posted to the wall by the elevator.

This poster is actually rather interesting and I think it merits a few minutes of time to contemplate its meaning.  First, what on earth does that last line mean? "Thanks for being such good sports last night." What was there to be a good sport about? If we didn't escape the building, we would have died in the non-existing fire. So if they really mean, "Hey guys, its nice to see that none of you want to burn to death...KEEP IT UP!" then yes, I agree. Self preservation is a good quality to have though apparently I lack that quality.

 As a final point, I'm confused by that rather interesting picture of a snowman holding a flaming broom. Is that supposed to represent us college students? Because if it is...what is NYU saying about its students? Is it A) that we are creepy snowmen with arsonist tendencies? Or B) Snowmen expressing surprise and cursing our lack of foresight while watching the alarming rate at which the flame is moving down the broom close to our equally flammable twig arms?  Thought provoking? I thought so.

A Semi-Return to Reality

I meant to post something sooner but never got around to it until now. So why now on a random Tuesday 2am? The answer is simple. I have a neuroscience exam in two days. So by the laws of procrastination and self indulgence, I am now blogging away happily. Now don't assume that I don't feel guilty about not studying. There is a part of my brain that just wants to be a good industrious Asian student and I think it is sobbing loudly into a Kleenex in the background. I say I think, because I'm honestly not too sure. You see, I have terrible hearing due to centuries of alcohol and heroin abuse which eventually landed me in ear-rehab and started my love-hate relationship with electroshock therapy. It was a very dark moment in my life and I don't want to elaborate on it too much. The point is, I won't be able to hear the crying until 12 hours before the exam. So until then, it doesn't exist! Denial is a beautiful thing.

Hire me PLZ!

Internet, you know what? I came to college thinking that I would leave 4 years later with a degree in Biology. Now for the most part, I have exceeded my plans by also finishing minors in Chemistry and Philosophy. However, I realized today that that wasn't all. Being a massive overachiever, I have also added a new area that I think I can safely call myself an expert in: unclogging toilets.

You would figure that with all the tuition I have to pay, NYU would be able to afford some decent toilets that don't take unionized breaks on the order of say...every 15 flushes but apparently, I was being hopelessly naive and I thank NYU for correcting my elitist toilet standards.
I have seriously found myself actually testing the damn contraption before using it. It is that bad.
It is an awful situation and this is the second dorm that I've lived in where we've had this problem and I've only lived in three dorms. So to all the people who like numbers, that's 66.6%! A shockingly high number in politics. Toilet politics.

Anyway, now what is truly awful is when other people leave it clogged and they don't tell you about it because then you get a shit flood. Let me tell you, that is a fucking nightmare in a bathroom that is about the size of a pathetically sized closet. I've decided I'm sick of this so being the resourceful college student that I am, I started watching youtube videos of people using every method possible to fix toilets without actually buying a plunger which then turned into a delightful detour of laughing at other people's misfortunes. I can feel (smell?) the bad karma already.

The point is, I am now an expert at fixing toilets. So if you know anyone who needs to hire someone with a major in Bio who can also make you feel that much more at ease about the perils of using the bathroom, let me know.



And also, I realized, this is the first blog post I have written and I have chosen to write about toilets. I am classy.