Forgetfulness

What an interesting couple of days.

I got to Roberts around five o'clock last night with the car absolutely chock full of stuff. I pulled out my key to unlock our apartment, and the key wouldn't work. I found Security's number and hit send.
Ten minutes later, the door was opened for me. There wasn't a piece of furniture in sight, save a lonely chair. I opened the bedroom door, assuming they must have crammed it all into one room. Nothing. I called one of my friends and he brought down a mattress for me to crash on for the weekend. My key still doesn't work, and neither does my roommate's.

I began unloading. I'm pretty sure this is the first year Steve and Ryan haven't helped me unpack my car, including freshman year. It took me about 17, 385 trips to get everything from point A to point B. I unpacked as much as I could, but pretty much everything is sitting in the living room.
Still.

But among the things that are not currently in the living room is my laptop charger. Why, you ask? Because I left it at home. Actually, I left it in a little storage compartment in the back seat of the family van. I still can't think of a single good reason that I put it there.
The biggest downside to not having a functional computer, though, is not having any music. Normally without a computer, I would just plug my iPod into my speakers or (if absolutely necessary) use the radio in my alarm clock. But guess who didn't bring her speakers or her alarm clock! If you guessed me, you're right. (Go ahead and pat yourself on the back.)

It's interesting, though. As much as I can whine and complain about everything I didn't bring to college, I have no reason not to be thankful.

1. I can (kind of) afford to go to college in the first place.
2. I have such incredible friends here!
3. I was able to borrow a mattress.
4. Lack of music = deeper thought.
5. I still have so freaking much stuff with me.
6. My momma is awesome enough to mail me my charger.
7. My sister comes to Roberts on Friday!
8. I have my phone charger.
9. I have an incredible church to go to tomorrow morning!
10. Forgetfulness doesn't exist in Heaven, and eventually I'll live there.

Two Thumbs Up

C. Harold Hurley & McDonalds.

I heard an absolutely wretched song today on the radio. I was appalled. Disgusted, really.

But let me tell a funny story first!
The Merritts and I had dinner tonight at Taco Bell. I parked behind the restaurant next door, because I turned in too early and didn't feel like fighting rush hour traffic to park in the correct lot. We were talking at dinner about school this year, and Steve said something about having to drive me somewhere. I said, "No! I'll have a car on campus this year!" He started laughing and said, "Well, look who's finally taking off the diaper!" (He proceeded to nickname me Little Bear. Yeah, I don't get it either.) As we were heading to the parking lot, he told me he was looking for the van. I wasn't sure what van (because I don't drive a van!), but then he explained that I seem like the soccer mom type. I looked at him and said, "So am I in diapers or am I a soccer mom?!"
Anyway, the diapers reference made me chuckle, so I thought I'd share. (But now that it's typed, it doesn't seem that funny. Sorry, people.)
(And insert C. Harold Hurley's voice into that last sentence.)

Back to the disgustingwretchedawfulhorriblerepulsiverevolting song.
It's called Carry Out (by Timbaland) - I googled it.
I want to share some of the lyrics strictly for the sake of making my point, not to make you puke.

...Have it your way, foreplay
Before I feed your appetite
Let me get my ticket, baby, let me get in line
I can tell the way you like, baby, super size...
...Take my order 'cause your body like a carry out
Let me walk it to your body 'til it's lights out...
...Number one, I'll take two number-three's
That's a whole out of you and a side of me
Now is it full of myself to want you full me?
And if it's room for dessert then I want a piece
Baby, get my order right, no errors
I'mma touch you in all the right areas
I can feed you, you can feed me
Girl, deliver that to me, come see me...
...Do you like it well done? 'Cause I do it well
'Cause I'm well seasoned if you couldn't tell...
...What's your name?
What's your number?...

Does anyone else think this is totally prurient?! (GRE word of the day!) I can't believe our stupid American culture has cheapened sex to the point of treating it like freaking fast food. Hello, gentlemen, I am not a McDonalds!
I was going to turn off the song as soon as I heard the chorus (can you call it that?) the first time through, but I wanted to know who sang it so I could blog about it tonight. Is that lame? Probably.
But anyway.

Girls, don't listen to this crap. Wait for someone who is going to be thankful for every moment he gets to spend with you, not someone who's wanting to be all up in your...grill. You don't owe guys anything. Demand respect. Remember Who your Father is.
Guys, don't you listen to this crap either. Girls who are desperate enough to take orders such as those described above aren't worth your time - run the other direction. Girls don't owe you anything. Demand respect. Remember Whose you are.

End of rant.