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I’ve been seeing another multi-legged invertebrate and here’s the worst part – he’s real.

I drove three hours to see him.

We held hands over lunch.

I’ll admit that my heart raced, but we weren’t meant to be together, the Octopus and I. I don’t do well in saltwater and it seemed like he preferred children.

Please forgive me Sesapus and take me back. I realize now that 6-legs are all I really need in a pet.

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Well it’s 2011, I’m about to leave the Northwest (land that I love) and I have a million tiny cuts on my arms from the sequined tiger shirt I wore and danced in all night on New Years.

I don’t want to leave, but since my flight, tuition and books are already paid for, returning to Savannah seems like the logical choice.

To recap my last week here: the cabin that we stayed in after Christmas (with no cell phone service or internet) was full of dead animals.  And, I don’t know, maybe you’re into that sort of thing but I don’t really want to see this when I look up from reading a book on the couch:

"So, watch'ya reading?"

Even without modern technology I managed met up with some friends and joined them for some night skiing/ hot tubbing while at aforementioned cabin.

All seven of us packed in the van, helmets and goggles on incase of a crash. Safety first.

When we got back I celebrated the New Year by dancing the night away and being loca con mi tigre shirt.

Then I spent the first day of the new year trying to dissuade my father from taking my computer to the “genius” bar. He went anyway, and was even surprised when the “super” CD/DVD drive they replaced still didn’t read a CD when he got home and they couldn’t find anything else wrong with my computer.

So I went back with him to the store to provide some thug muscle presence (I almost made a shirt that said “super genius,” just to fit in.) After about an hour wait in the store suppressing my urge to yell something about how it represents everything I hate about humanity, they decided that it was a software issue (A STROKE OF GENIUS?) and gave me vague instructions about wiping everything and reloading the system completely.

I mean, come on. I wish they would just call it “Mediocre Bar” and say it like it is.

But my good friend’s New Year’s resolution is to be more optimistic so instead of being disgruntled by the Apple store I’m going to thank Steve Jobs because he’s given me one reason to be happy about leaving the west coast: I will be far away from him.

And even better  is that tomorrow I’m going to see Sesapus.

As much as I love talking to my giant poster of Sean Connery, I’m hella (yeah, I said it) excited for all of my Portland friends to be back in town/on winter break.

So, for those who haven’t seen me in a while, here’s an update so we don’t have to dilly-dally on useless small talk:

1. I haven’t converted to some weird pirate-jesus worshipping religious cult involving dressing as Prince and dancing the frug. (To be honest they would not let me in.)

This is not a shrine located in my dorm room.

2. Speaking of dancing, I still do it, just as poorly and with perhaps more confidence and gusto than ever.

3. Despite all the Baby Talk magazines, I have not gotten preggo and am proud to say my uterus is parasite free.

4. Mark my words I will be keeping them covered but my legs are really hairy right now.  I’m sorry if you accidentally catch a glimpse.  My boyfriend is 3226.03 miles away and I am lazy.

5. Finally, don’t get your hopes up, I left Sesapus back in Savannah. (I did this mostly so I wouldn’t lose him on the way home.  Freshman year I almost forgot him three times.  On the way to the shuttle, getting on the shuttle AND when my flight arrived in Portland, “um excuse me miss, is this your purple…thing.” Don’t worry, He’s probably partying like it’s 1999.)

So Sean, although I’ve truly enjoyed our witty back and forth as you point the barrel of your gun at me, I’m off to bigger, better, and less 2-D things.

In your own words, “suck it TREBEK.” (Said with much love.)

Here's us laughing gayly together last winter break. <3

Maybe y’all have heard Cee Lo Green‘s song “Fuck You.”

Oh hey, Cee Lo.

In Savannah (and probably elsewhere) on the radio they change the lyrics to “forget you,” which I think changes the meaning of the song just a little bit.  When I got back to Portland, I heard the song on the radio with “f-you,” replacing fuck you.  I thought it more accurately portrayed the song but it doesn’t really conceal the F-word all that much.

But forget and fuck are two entirely different words, they cannot be interchanged freely. Please observe:

  • Forget you
  • Go forget yourself
  • Forget off
  • I want to forget you
  • I don’t give a forget
  • don’t forget (with me)
  • You forgetting with me?
  • OH FORGET IT ALL
  • For forget’s sake
  • You are a forgetting piece of shit

I mean some of those just don’t even make sense, others have VERY different meanings.  “I want to forget you,” implies nothing of the sexual nature that “I want to fuck  you” brings.

Sesapus' game with the ladies would be greatly reduced if he censored himself.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is if you want to listen to Cee Lo Green’s song, listen on the web or go buy it. The FCC doesn’t like to be forgot with.

This past week, on two separate occasions, two different people refereed to me as “G-Funk.” At the time I thought it was a very strange occurrence and must be a sign from the cosmos that I should drop everything and become the lyrical wordsmith rapper that we all know I could be.

"Is that jacket made of genuine Sesapus leather?"

But today in class Susan (previous Kentucky convention roommate) pointed out that she had created a facebook group called “Anna Geannopoulos should change her name to Anna G-Funk” which kind of cleared everything up for me.

This is the second time that someone has used my name in a Facebook group.  My friend Bogdan created the first one, entitled “Anna Geannopoulos is in my pants,” as a joke.

It was recently removed after I reported it offensive to Facebook because it was the first thing that came up when you googled my name but not really the first thing I wanted potential employers to see.

Now when you google my name a site devoted to the Brigade of Gurkhas comes up for some reason.  And although the first result is still Facebook, there is nothing suggesting I’m some sort of harlot yet.*

My tiny internet footprint barely includes this blog. How sad.

G-Funk out. Peace.

*Please do not use this as an open invitation to make me appear like a harlot on the web.