So I’m on the bus to go to class today, and I’m wearing one of my favorite bras. It’s pink and has flowers all over it. That, and it makes my boobs look AWESOME. It has one of those front clasps where the tighter you pull it, the closer together your boobs become. Really great for cleavage shirts.

ANYWAY…

So I’m sitting on the bus, and I feel the fabric around my chest become very loose, and at first I’m puzzled but then it hits me: My clasp just came unclasped. The girls are on the loose! As I’m coming to this embarassing realization, I look over at the guy across the aisle from me, who is sporting the same awkward expression as I am and looking at my chest. I look down and see that the twins have become quadruplets. The bra’s cups are spread out, making it look like I have four breasts. Ack.

I panic at first…the bus is already on the way to campus. I can’t run back to my apartment or I’ll be late for class. My future is looking very bleak but then…a ha! I suddenly remember the sweatshirt I shoved into my bag on the way out the door. Only problem is, it’s pretty damn warm outside. What freak would put on a sweatshirt whilst the sun is beating down on her? This freak. I give a pretend shiver, for the benefit of anyone watching, and pull on my sweatshirt.

Smiling at my cleverness,  I get off the bus, roll my sleeves up, and make my way down Jeff Hill to Playwriting. I’ll have just enough time to run to the bathroom and reclasp my bra before class.

But oh no. The Lingerie Gods are not letting me get off that easy.  I hear a little *ting*, and realize that the metal clasp has just completely fallen off my bra. It’s at this point that I’d like to say: Really? And unfortunately, the answer is yes.

So I end up discarding my bra in the Putnam 2nd floor bathroom and free-boobing it around Athens for a few hours. The end.

So I’m sitting in the library procrastinating, as I often do, and I can’t help but notice the…unpleasant odor emanating from the gentleman next to me. Seriously…he has to be able to smell himself right? Maybe he has some terrible olfactory disease. Even so, I’m pretty sure we learned back in like sixth grade that applying deodorant every day is a great way to make and keep friends.

…

He’s gone. Whew. And my suspicions were correct, the air is significantly more breathable now that he is gone.

This reminds me of another charming fellow I had the pleasure of sharing library time with a few weeks ago. He was your classic, middle-aged, male, Athens “townie”: Nascar hat, white cutoff shirt that is so worn it’s almost see-through, and jorts. Oh, don’t forget the raging mullet.

So I’m sitting in one of the armchairs reading or doing a crossword or something else not-school related, when I hear the strangest, most disgusting noise ever. I look up, and it is the man, snorting and clearing his throat and apparently trying to remove every last trace of mucus from his throat. I give him a meaningful look, even though he can’t see me, and get back to my reading. Not five minutes later, znaarrrrrk. Another mucus-roar.

Oh please, let that be the end, I thought.

But it was only just the beginning. After several more snorts, and several more glares, I look up to see this dashing man….picking his nose.

Ok….seriously?!?!

I blink once, twice, shake my head, thinking I imagined it, but when I open my eyes, there he is, digging for gold like he’s a fucking forty-niner.

Half expecting this man to just vomit all over his keyboard (I mean, that’s the logical next step right?), I gathered my things and moved to a different chair. One where I could not see him.

So I ask you, why why why is it so hard for one to go to the library, do a little homework or leisure reading, and not have to worry about overwhelming body odors and snot enthusiasts? Now if you’ll excuse me, another one of Alden’s gems, talk-loudly-on-cellphone-girl, has just taken a seat. My cue to leave.