[I told myself I have time to blog this today because I FINALLY figured out a way to listen to class recordings at increased speed. Holla. A huge victory. Income tax at 186% speed, here I come!]
I was chatting with a dear friend today when for some reason I remembered a humorous incident from our freshman year. But I only remembered the first half. She was there to inspire me with a reminder of the rest of the story. It went a little something like this...
One cold winter night, Rachel and I had nothing to do. Our roommates must have had dates or mono or something and we were trying to find friends to hang out with. But for some reason or another, it seemed like no one was around the dorms that evening. Even our old reliables, the Taylor club, did not come to their window when beckoned. There were several inches of fresh snow, so we stomped out our loneliness in the snow on the bball court outside their window... in the shape of a broken heart, naturally.
~~Before I continue, here's something you should know: we are ridiculous. And overdramatic. Especially when feeding off one another. Sometimes people take us serious when they shouldn't.~~
Enter returned missionary, living in the dorms.
RMLITD: Is that a Pacman?
R: It's a broken heart. No one wants to hang out with us.
J: The boys in our ward think we're ugly!!! (translation: we're bored)
RMLITD (waxing wise*): Someday they'll grow up and realize you're really what they want.
R and J (trying very hard to suppress our "WT?" faces): Um, thanks.
Well, that's more or less how it went.
His kind words of encouragement, however, did not help us find anyone to play with.
And the next morning, our friends also thought it was a Pacman outside their window.
Epic failure.
Yet classic memory.
*His wisdom is in question, because he did, in fact, return to live in the dorms post-mission. Maybe he was an RA. That would be more acceptable.
