This past weekend I went on a camping and canoeing trip. It was a lot of fun, but would have been even more enjoyable had the temperature not been approximately that of liquid nitrogen. At one point, a bunch of us were laying on a sandbar in the sun. I said it was like being in the Bahamas, except that instead of bikinis we were wearing fourteen layers of clothes (I'm not kidding). On the plus side, I have discovered the wonder that is long underwear. Is it comfortable? Sort of. Is it attractive? Oh hell no. But boy does it keep you warm!

So it's been getting colder and rainier here (no snow since the scare last week), which I guess is good because midterms have kept me busy. (As an aside, I got a B on my stats test. That's right, A B! IN YOUR FACE, STATISTICS!!) I was, however, walking to class the other day and thought, "Man, I can't wait till it gets warm again." And then I remembered that that won't happen for many, many, many months. And lo, I was sore afraid.

Right now we are at level blue-green (or teal) on the Winter Weather Terror Alert Chart.

Red: Hell has frozen over; Satan stalks the streets and demons eat our souls.
Orange: All hope has been abandoned; death is preferable.
Yellow: Frigid wind is relentless and cuts to the bone; death might be preferable.
Blue: Temperatures fall; hat and gloves are a necessity.
Green: Balmy!

YOU GUYS! IT IS SNOWING! IT IS SNOWING, YOU GUYS!

YOU GUYS.

IT.
IS.
SNOWING.


UNACCEPTABLE.

Dear Drunk, Obnoxious Blonde in Front of Me at the Carbon Leaf Concert,

I came to see Carbon Leaf, not you. I appreciate that they are "like, your favoritest band!" but they are also one of my favorite bands, and have been for probably a lot longer than you. Your flailing dancing, overzealous caressing of your chest and constant blowing of kisses are not endearing, they are horribly annoying. Perhaps you didn't notice the rest of the band laughing at you? Barry is not your soul mate, he's a lead singer of a semi-popular band that sees slutty groupies like you all the time. Calm down and let me enjoy the show.

No love,
C.

Dear Possibly Drunk, Equally-Annoying Friend of Obnoxious Blonde,

The first couple times you asked me if I could see over you were polite. The fourth, fifth and twenty-seventh times were far more annoying than your potential view-blocking could possibly be. If you're than concerned that you're in my way, MOVE. And take your jailbait with you. You're lucky my roommate didn't punch you, because I assure you, she was very, very close to doing so.

You suck,
C.

Dear Not-Drunk Unfortunate Companion of Obnoxious People,

I appreciate your attempts to keep your rude and tasteless friends in check. Next time, could you teach them a little show etiquette before bringing them in public?

Thanks,
C.

Obnoxious people notwithstanding, it was a fun show (though I do enjoy their older stuff a lot more), and I got to meet the band. All of them (except lead singer Barry, who, while hot, is a little full of himself) were really gracious and were excited that I've been a fan since the days they played the old Roanoke College gym. Plus I got a sweet t-shirt and some cheap CDs.

Live music rocks my world.