Hippies!

I am taking a break from not doing important homework because I may actually have a rant worth reading about: hippies. I hypothesize that hippies are not quite the unwashed, impoverished, politically loud-mouthed individuals I once thought they were. Impoverished is the key term here, all the rest is more or less accurate. Hippies disguise themselves as poor, earth-centric, non-conformists who snub capitalism and free market economies. But perhaps this is no longer the case.
For example, granola is the stereotypical food associated with hippies , closely followed by organic foods. By the way, I once met a girl who would only eat "organic oreos". WTF? It's still processed sugar, lady. Organic foods, as well as granola, are not cheap. Neither are Chacos, tea, hand crocheted articles (that they likely didn't make themselves because heaven forbid they take time out of their busy life of doing nothing to crochet a bag. Although if they did make it, then it would look like crap which they would prize as "artsy" or "creative") and other trendy clothing items hippies buy to look poor.
I suspect that hippies are actually grown-up versions of spoiled rich kids, who feel under appreciated in some way but are still tied to a source of wealth. This may also explain their smug attitudes towards anything non-hippie. It is in their elitist nature to look down on things, people, ideas they perceive beneath them and so, while trying the play the part of a conscientious citizen of the world, they deplore coal, economics, red meat, etc.
So there you have my discombobulated rant about hippies.

The saddest thing

I had written a large description of how the hot chocolate machine at the cafeteria no longer works, until I realized that it was very dry and boring; that coming from a historian in training--go figure....
Anyhow, yuppers, it is broken and only hot water comes out of it now.

So I guess my only recourse now is to start drinking coffee....Irish style??? ;)

My friend, Charlie.

I bumped into my old friend Charlie the other day. By "bumped into" I mean that, in usual Charlie fashion, he jumped out of nowhere and scared the Hell out of me. Charlie and I are not really close friends. He is more of an annoying acquaintance, who makes an occasional appearance. Truthfully, I thought he had died some time ago. The last time I saw him, he was in my windowsill, making a web and looking for bugs. Yes, Charlie is a common household Wolf Spider.
The last time I had seen Charlie, he was rather small (about the size of a jumping spider) and had taken up residence in my windowsill. I didn't mind Charlie being there. He was welcome to live in between the window pane and the screen, so long as he didn't try to take up residence elsewhere. I didn't think it was necessary for me to kill him because my windowsill is not a prime location to live during a Logan winter. Soon enough, I saw Charlie's web without Charlie hanging in it. I had assumed he had finally curled up into a ball and was laying at the bottom of my window along with all the other dead bugs. I was wrong, and Charlie has gotten bigger. Much bigger.
The other night, while I was reading on my bed, Charlie decided to make an appearance--perhaps to show off how much bigger he had grown. Charlie is an arrogant prick sometimes. At first I didn't think it was him, and mistook him for a hobo spider. But the leg markings were very clear, and it was indeed Charlie.
The next challenge, after recovering from the initial shock of seeing my old friend and wondering what he could have been eating to grow so much bigger, was to decide what to do with him. I didn't have anything handy to kill him with, so I caught him in a Tupperware bowl and was going to execute him toilet style. However, after looking into his eight or ten--thousand eyes and realizing that not once since his escape from the windowsill did he ever come near me or (more importantly) where I slept, I decided that Charlie and I have too much history for me to flush him. He deserves his freedom, or at least a more noble death.
But where could I release him? Not in my room for damn sure. Probably not even in the house, since Charlie could (in actuality) be a Suzy and leave a sack full of Dick and Janes to burst open in the Spring. Nor can I simply toss him outside. Charlie is a wuss when it comes to the cold, he wouldn't last a second in the deep, Logan snow. So, for right now, he is trapped in a Tupperware bowl (with the lid on--hence trapped this time) waiting for me to decide what to do with him.
He may wait quite some time.