Liar, Liar, Sorry I Defenestrated Your Dr. Pepper

My mom always says that lying is bad and will never help in the long run. I didn’t believe it but after eighteen years I have now found a perfect example of her being right.

Just saying.

La-a walked into the lounge where the majority of us were pretending that we didn’t actually have work to do. She was holding a CD and Felix was quick to teasingly ask if it was a Big Time Rush CD; La-a had been lauding the band’s music for days, which Felix didn’t understand because he doesn’t have ovaries.

La-a: No, it isn’t—but oh my god, you need to listen to the Beatles covers that they did.

She proceeded to commandeer Felix’s computer and, after figuring out how to operate a Mac, brought up a song. Felix and I sufferingly rolled our eyes and agreed that yes, the music was fine. As soon as she walked out of the room, Felix happily announced “She’s gone” and closed the window…

…only to have La-a charge back into the room and cry “I can hear you turn it off!”

While she was distracted, Felix stole the CD from her hand and passed it off to me. La-a yelled “Noooooooo!” before I could indicate that I was going to give it back to her.

Me: What did you think I was going to do?

La-a: I don’t know. Throw it out the window?

Me: That would be so mean.

Felix: We wouldn’t do that.

Me: That would be r000000000000de. It would be “rude” spelled with twelve zeroes.

Felix: Why would I do that?

La-a: I don’t know. You’re better people than I am. I would totally throw Felix’s Dr. Pepper out the window.

Felix: It’s empty…

I’m not sure what Felix hoped to accomplish by saying this, but I am absolutely certain that it was not what happened next.

As you read the following dialogue, bear in mind that at this point I was laughing too hard to stand up and had to sit on the floor.

Felix: IT WASN’T EMPTY!

Me: Then why did you say it was empty!?

Felix: I DIDN’T THINK YOU WOULD DO THAT!

Me: Have you MET me?

Felix: Apparently I don’t know you well enough!!

Me: Felix, there is literally nothing about our friendship that suggests that I wouldn’t do that!

And then everyone laughed so hard they almost cried.

If the story didn’t give you the idea of what my college friends are like, we’ve also been described as Big Bang Theory meets Friends. We’re also the kind of people who are likely to take stupid internet challenges.

At William and Mary, a "tribe choice" is a healthy choice. The Cinnamon Challenge was not a tribe choice.

Jules and Theo also did this. Both of them got headaches immediately after, so I consider myself the winner of this challenge even though I had to frantically imbibe seemingly the entire contents of the hall water fountain. Although seeing Theo breathe clouds of cinnamon like some kind of spice cabinet dragon was kind of worthwhile.

The video is here. I tried to do something cool and embed it here, but the internet decided that that wasn't going to happen today.
Each and every one of you who enjoyed that…I dare you to try it.

Thirty minutes after this video was taken, my mouth still tasted like the floor of a Cinnabon factory. I’m not sure if that means I still win, or if I’m now part cinnamonster.

An Improper Use of Physics

I remember that when I was little, I wanted to be an interior designer. Before that I wanted to be a vet, I think, and before that (when I was three), I told my parents that when I grew up I wanted to be a billy goat.

My mom is so supportive of me in all of my endeavors.

This morning, however, I was accidentally introduced to a field that I never knew existed. I was in Victoria’s Secret, which is one of those stores that treats everyone shopping there like a criminal and locks all their dressing rooms. This is more than a problem for socially awkward people like me, who normally would rather go buy their bras at Sears—which doesn’t believe in security—than ask someone to open up the room for them.

But I had a coupon for $10 off any Victoria’s Secret purchase and I was damn well going to use it because they make fabulous bras (even when they put padding in sizes that really don’t need it, because there is no room for the bra to actually be used if you pad a DD), so I stealthily tracked down one of the sales associates and asked her to open up a room for me. She picked the room that said “Sexy” on the door, so I was pretty okay with that.

As I was walking into the dressing room, she pointed at one of the bras I’d picked out and said “Oh, I really recommend that. We’re promoting that one right now. It has some new technology.”

There were three problems with these statements—the first, of course, being please just stop looking at the bras I am going to try on, holy crapmuffins, I am uncomfortable enough without you trying to discuss my lingerie. The second was that in-store advertising doesn’t work if you tell me you are specifically trying to get me to buy a particular item. It makes me want to be subversive and not buy it just to prove I am not a sheeple.

The third and most baffling problem was the use of the phrase “new technology” while referring to bras.

I honestly can’t say I know a whole lot about the subject, but I didn’t realize that bras were such a dynamic field of expertise that they were constantly developing new technology. New styles? Okay, fine, I believe that. New designs? That also sounds reasonable if you are describing clothing. New models? Makes it sound kind of like a car, but I see where you’re coming from, fine. But if you tell me that my bra has new technology, I’m expecting it to be able to transform me into a Sailor Scout or something.

Victoria’s Secret prism power, make up!

Maybe the salesgirl just had a slip of the tongue and was kicking herself for it later. I’m the kind of person who does that, so I can perfectly imagine her sitting in the back room of Victoria’s Secret thinking “ ‘New technology’? What the hell, past me?”

Or maybe—just maybe—there is a job for that. Maybe you could be a bra technology designer. I started to think about this, and the kind of qualifications that you’d need to design good bras. Being a woman is probably a vital skill set. How else would you know what’s comfortable? A background in anatomy and knowing how gravity works on specific anatomy probably wouldn’t hurt.

In other words, that would definitely make you a tits physicist.

(I’ll wait while you all go change your major.)

In moderately unrelated news, I recently made more passive-aggressive pictures for Felix.

And then I was trying to think of an ending for this post, so I took one of them and made it BETTER… with Felix’s help.

Me: This might be the weirdest question you ever get asked. If you were a tits physicist, which equations do you think you would use?

Felix: Oh god.

Me: This is a serious business question that the world needs the answer to.

Felix: mg = Tcos(theta), where theta is the angle of the tit in relation to a vertical straight line, m is the mass of the tit, g is the gravitational acceleration, and T is the tension as the—Marina this is really awkward!

Me: Oh my god.

Felix: And then it would be Fsubf = Tsin(theta), where Ff is the force of friction in the horizontal direction…okay I am done, this is weirding me out.

Me: Can I blog all this?

Felix: Fine.

Felix is probably the best sport ever.