Last Time on The Cheshire Cat's Out of the Bag...

…we left our heroine battling a giant sea-panther with only a conk-spear and her natural charisma. 

Okay, not really, but here are some updates that I meant to give earlier.  I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about them sooner, but I either got busy, wrote a different post, or just plain forgot.

First, with regards to Jet, I have joyous news.  In case you don’t remember Jet, he is the psychotic dog who declared war on me and my clothes.

After a long a tedious battle —with many casualties—Jet finally made a fatal mistake that cost him the war. 

When I first arrived at this apartment, the living room area was devoid of all signs of life.  No posters.  No paintings.  No wall art.  No photographs.  No throw pillows.  No curtains.  Absolutely nothing.

Well, I convinced Jet’s owner, Jasmine, that it would be best if our apartment had some personality; so, we went 50/50 on decorations for the apartment.  One of those decorations happened to be floor length hanging curtains.

As the window, and thus the curtains, are near my room door, Jet mistaked the curtains for one of my possessions and peed on them.  This happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Jasmine, tired of Jet’s pee escapades, sent him back home.

Viva la Tiffany.  Suck it Jet.

The second and final update that I have pertains to Skittles Vodka.

After making the Skittles Vodka, I decided that I was going to taste the rainbow.  I got five different shot glasses and filled each with a different color.  I then began.

I downed them in order red, orange, yellow, green, and then purple. 

After shooting red, I had to continue with the rest quickly, or I wouldn’t have had the strength to continue.  They were AWFUL.

Red = Robitussin

Orange = Ipecac with an Orangy-Zest

Yellow = Lemon Dish Soap (Yes, I’ve had my mouth washed out before)

Green = Pine-Sol

Purple = Grape Cough Syrup

So even though they predominately tasted like medicine and/or cleaning products, the only effects they had were upsetting my stomach and then making me feel disgusted and dirty.

And Behind the Secret Door in the Hidden Room Is...

I was gonna do today’s blog on the Girl Scouts; however, that was before I found a magical bathroom.

That’s right.  Magical.  Bathroom. 

Almost like the Chamber of Secrets, except I don’t have to go down a toilet.

Today, while at work, I really, really, really, really had to pee.  And, as I am still getting accustomed to the school, I left my desk and wandered randomly down the hall until I found a door with the picture of little woman on it.

After opening the door, it looked like a regular old bathroom; however, I quickly discovered it was so much more.  Behind the sinks and mirrors was a completely separate room full of nothing but full-length mirrors.  I debated on whether to reenact the ballet studio scene from Twilight, but decided on doing some funky 80s dance moves.

While getting my boogie on, I noticed that in the corner was another opening.  So before I could break out the funky chicken, I began to walk towards the opening and realized that there was a staircase.

The need to pee completely forgotten in the discovery of a hidden staircase, I began the ascent.  I was Sleeping Beauty climbing, spellbound, towards my finger prick.  I was conquering Mount Everest.  Blazing a trail up into the unknown.

After reaching the final step, stood a lone door.  As I reached for the door, I stopped with my hand clutched tightly around the handle….

Thoughts raced through my head.  I might have actually found a portal into Narnia!  Or even some way out of the Matrix.  Then again, What if I ended up in Wonderland?  Would Johnny Depp be waiting on the other side?   Maybe Mr. Rochester’s crazy wife, Bertha, was waiting to claw at my face.

Then my more pessimistic/realistic side took over.  What if it was just some boring janitor’s closet?

Stupid Left Brain.  You had to ruin the excitement.

As I stood debating, the need to pee once again took hold and broke the spell that had taken hold of me.  I went back down the stairs and completed my original course of action.

After all, you don't want to enter Narnia with a full bladder.  There aren't really bathrooms in Narnia -- at least not ones with decent plumbing.  And besides, I'd just end up wiping myself with sticks and leaves.  Which is just gross in the first place, but doubly weird because the trees there are alive.  And how awkward would that be -- apologizing to a tree for wiping your... but I digress.

After finishing my business, I decided that I like the idea of the unknown far better than boring certainty.  So I left the bathroom and went back to work before I was tempted to re-climb the stairs and uncover the truth about the secret door.

Besides, I’ve decided to return to the bathroom at a later date, just to see if the secret room still exists.  It was so real, but I might have imagined the whole thing.  I do have an active imagination… and a slightly psychotic personality—at least that’s what people tell me. 

The need to pee may have made me delusional.

However, if some day in the future, my blog mysteriously vanishes and I’m never heard from again, know that I’ve finally opened that door and found something so amazing that I may never come back.

Them's Fightin' Words

As you know by now, I’m a graduate student at USC.  I’m currently living in an apartment with three other roommates, my dog, and my roommate’s dog.

And now we come to the problem—my roommate’s dog.  The beast has currently dragged me into a psychological warzone.

It all started a couple weeks ago when my roommate decided that because my pet is so well behaved her dog, Jet, could come live with us as well.  With no complains (as I’ve grown up with all sorts of dogs) Jet came to live with us.

It is only now that I’ve determined that Jet is smarter than he looks.  Sure he drools incessantly and barks at dust bunnies, but behind those vacant eyes lies the mind of a master strategist.

Recently, I’ve discovered that Jet responds to the statement, “Do you wanna go for a ride?”  Every time I said this, he would run over to me and begin jumping up and down, while howling in pleasure. 

I thought it was cute, but now I think Jet really expected to go on a ride.  So when I didn’t actually take him anywhere, he began his personal vendetta against me and my clothes.

All of my life, I’ve been told that I shouldn’t leave my clothes on the floor, and now I know why—Jet.  He has begun to sneak into my room when no one is looking, just so that he can pee on my clothes.

He isn’t doing this in anyone else’s room—just mine.  Which is how I know he is trying to make me suffer.

The first casualty in the war was my jeans.  At the time, I didn’t realize that I was being targeted so I continued in blissful ignorance while the evil genius plotted my demise.

The second and third casualties were my backpack and a t-shirt.  They died a joint death, but served the purpose of alerting me to my foe. 

The fourth victim of this war died today and confirmed my fears that Jet is out to get me.

Oh, I am so on to you mister.

After asking Jet “do you wanna go for a ride?” he immediately went into my room and made his move. 

But unbeknownst to Jet, we were actually going to go somewhere.  So when the time came to leave, I went into my room to change clothes.  Seeing an only-worn-once bra on the floor, I decided to put that on. 

Big mistake. 

As soon as I had it half on, the damp urinated truth hit me.  Jet had peed on my bra.

Sure, when I confronted him he looked at me with his stupid drooling face, but I know the truth. 

I know what you are even if your master believes that you’re a big sweetie pie.  You’re evil.  And now that I know the truth—I’m going to get you.

You may have won some battles, but I’m going to win this war.  Even if it means having to pee on your favorite stuffed animal. 

I.  Will.  Win.