My week of hell is over! And I bet yours is as well! In fact, I bet you are not even on campus anymore. Good thing the YDN content is always available online!

Now when I say “hell week” I mean midterms and papers, not getting wastey and being beaten and rubbed with oatmeal and not allowed to scratch. (The last 8 words are a quote from a real YDN article I once read about fraternity hazing!)

Unfortunately, my midterm week is indistinguishable from a fraternity hell week. For example, I do not shower, and wear the same condiment-stained clothes every day. And I don’t sleep and get really tired and am forced to listen to my suitemate’s “School Work” mix on repeat, which includes lots of musicals and Shakira’s more down tempo works and lots of songs that make me want to bone like Robin Thicke. But it is worth it. Because JOKE HERE.

Once I survived it was time for me to celebrate. I’ve been doing this in a multitude of ways: greasing my tits for SPRING BREAK 08, pressing the green gate button by shooting open my umbrella (a real crowd pleaser!), strolling through HGS, Meat Loaf overdose, and thinking about what a super sexy name “Gage” is. This morning I also stepped on a bagel.

The ultimate act of celebration of course has been watching “Planet Earth.” It. Has. Everything. The velvety-smooth voice of David Attenborough, plenty of freeze frame images for the spank bank, and lots of other things. Unfortunately, I have noticed the lessons of P.E. sneaking into my own life, guiding me as silently as a pygmy mouse lemur stalking its prey — a tender shoot.

For example, I definitely engage in symbiotic relationships with my suitemates. In case you don’t know, these are relationships where both parties benefit. Like, a fish eats the bacteria off a shark and the shark does not eat the fish. Or like two happy people having sex. Or like a happy person having sex with an unhappy person and the unhappy person getting paid. Regardless, there is this kind of give-and-take with my suitemates. I take their clothes, printers, food, beverages, love and scratches. And in return I grant them a steady stream of dialogue and personal commentary that frenetically oscillates between agonizingly insecure and only-child cocky.

I am also taking hints from P.E. when it comes to impressing the opposite gender. This one time yesterday I was in this little room with a boy and we were watching this movie of lights on a building and I was trying to make a move so I said, “How many babies do you think were conceived in this room?” and it totally did not succeed because he was like, are you trying to make a move (laugh) and I was like no.

Here I was trying to emulate the sexy hot mating style of the timber wolf in which the male wolf is clearly not interested and then the female wolf says something lame and then he is still not interested.

I am also drawing accidental inspiration from all my Victorian lit novels. I’m all hot to find a Byronic hero. In case you didn’t have Axel Liimitta as your 12th grade English teacher, a Byronic hero is a man so dark and tortured and strong, but he just needs the right feisty, pale woman to rescue him, and he will be nice to no one but her just like abused dogs from the shelter. Anyway some common Byronic heros are Satan in “Paradise Lost” and Heathcliff in “Wuthering Heights” and of course Aragorn and Wolverine. I’ve been using this Gothic inspiration in my seminars and sections in which I am clearly the Byronic hero and I know my professors know I have lots to say that springs direct from a tortured and intelligent soul, but they just have to draw it out of me.

But they do not draw it out of me. I suppose this is because several things stand in the way of me being a Bryonic Hero, such as I am not a man or an orphan nor do I possess a wolfish curling lip snarl. Haha JK that is the one thing I do have.

My last source of inspiration has been “Pet Sematary” and that has resulted in me burying Plantus last night in the Pierson courtyard. Now I am just waiting for his evil vine self to come back and haunt me. Haunt me Plantus! Just like you haunted me in life every day for three-four weeks! (That was something a Byronic Hero would say.)

But don’t fret, spring break is nigh! I just hit my face with a roll of paper towels in section but big freaking whoopdy it is spring break. I am going back to Kentucky. In Kentucky there is a man named Dallas Robinson who is a former tire salesman who quit to train for the Olympics. His story is so adorable it that it made it into the New York Times. He can sprint at 25 mph and jump like 15 feet onto boxes and flex his high-raised bootox. Dallas Robinson is not a Byronic hero but I’d still like to jump on that like a Kodkod to a Pine Martin Weasel.

Molly Green hopes that you will look up pictures of those creatures! They are all endangered!