midget

When I was in grade school, I was always the shortest one in my class. My nickname, in fact, was "Midget." Naturally, I resented this. But now, though at 5'7" I'm not exactly a giant, I kind of wish I could go back a few inches.

Coffee, as it turns out, does not stunt your growth.

If I had missed 3 of those inches, keeping my current proportions, I would probably be able to fit into my mother's wedding dress without having panels put in. (Probably.) Also, I would be 6 luxurious inches shorter than Mike, and I would be a lot more believable as an ingenue onstage. Plus, my voice would finally match the way I look. People might even, at a stretch, use the words "petite" or "little" to describe me.

Someone needs to invent a shrink-ray.

understudy

Like the rest of America, my New Year's resolution was to lose weight.

This was a bit of a misrepresentation; I don't give a rip what I actually WEIGH. I just want to be healthy again, now that I have time to do more than study until my brains ooze out my ears (that actually happened to me once). I like feeling good, and being sedentary does not feel good.

... what I'm working my way around to saying is this: if you crave Cheetos, a good low-fat substitute is Quakes (you find them in the oatmeal aisle). They come in lots of flavors, my favorites being cheddar cheese and ranch. I think they're AMAZING. I like them better than most junk food, quite honestly.

Plus, they don't taste like grease and heart failure.

the sweatshirt didn't give it away?

Today has been a total train wreck. I attribute a large part of this to the fact that I dreamed I lost my dog Sammy last night. I lost him downtown, because there was another dog following me that LOOKED like Sammy, but I should have noticed because the other dog had a bobbed tail. And when I realized what had happened, I couldn't find Sammy. Clearly, this makes me a bad pet owner.

the scent of a woman

When I was little, one of my greatest ambitions was to be old enough to wear perfume. Sometimes my mom would let me wear a little of hers on special occasions. On these glorious days, I usually got to wear Charlie Sunshine. Sometimes I would get to wear Emeraud; once or twice I was especially lucky, and mom let me have just a little dab of Cinnabar.
Perfume was the most magical thing in the world to me; it represented all things feminine and lovely and grown-up. To a certain extent, it still does.

This is part of why I really hated Rush Week in college.

I'm not saying that there's anything intrinsically wrong with sororities (I was in a women's fraternity, myself - no, I don't know what the difference is). But if they have any kind of formal gathering, RUN.

Seriously.

One minute, you're walking along the sidewalk, minding your own business, and the next minute - POOF! - you are completely engulfed in a fog of perfume: a sure sign that a large group of sorority girls passed by the same spot 45 minutes ago. This life-choking smog usually consists of three kinds of scent.

First, you have the foodies; you wouldn't think they would be that bad, but Sun-Ripened Raspberry, Warm Vanilla Sugar, and Sensual Amber just shouldn't mix. If you're having trouble with rioting peasants, take note - this formula makes for some truly first-rate tear gas. Personally, I don't know why some girls insist on smelling edible - who wants to date someone who always smells like a cookie? I don't know. But maybe it's just me.

Next, you have the trendies; Juicy Couture, L.A.M.B., and JLo Glow abound. I have nothing against any of these perfumes individually. I like Glow quite a lot, actually. But by this time, your olfactory nerves are already screaming for relief from the foodies - the trendies only serve to aggravate the problem.

Finally, you have the spendies. I won't give examples here - I don't want to be sued by a high-end label. Suffice it to say that these are the expensive ones. These are perhaps the most deadly of the trifecta - really good quality perfumes have a higher scent-to-alcohol ratio than their eau de parfum counterparts, which means they can last up to 8 hours on the wearer. I am convinced that the spendies, though individually much nicer than the others, are the real problem here. Scientific analysis proves that these perfumes attract other perfumes, thereby forming the noxious Sorority Scent Stratocumulus cloud.

This rare cloud formation is not exclusive to sorority gatherings - it can sometimes form in offices, and has been sighted frequently at nightclubs. Perhaps most disturbing is its tendency toward forming at church choir rehearsals.

The really sad part? These scents are usually worn in an effort to attract males - unfortunately, by the time the unsuspecting male has gotten within 10 yards of the wearer, he is overtaken with Sorority Scent Stratocumulus Syndrome, which is nearly always fatal. Disappointed and confused, the female will continue to seek out victims until she has killed every male in her immediate vicinity.


See? It's serious stuff.

Run, men, run. Run while your legs will still carry you.