Antiquis Squid temporibus, nati tibi similes et rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem

Greetings, all. I felt my presence on this website was somewhat lacking as of late...so here I am, ready to inject intelligence and perhaps an ounce of amusement into your dreary lives once more. There is not much to write about in regards to my own life, unfortunately. I still enjoy lurking in the dark recesses of the library and squidding merrily around campus, jumping on the crunchy leaves that liberally coat the ground.

The human would like to officially announce that, contrary to previous claims, she will indeed be attempting to grow her hair out again. If I still had advertisements on this page, this post would no doubt lead to another round of hair-related solicitations. That, however, is another story. In any case, she is now looking at two to three years of waiting and horrid-looking hair... really, I simply do not understand humans sometimes. The smartest ones become bald as quickly as possible and remain that way.

The human also wishes to publicly declare that she will soon come to regret her latest decision in regard to her 3D design class. Although it has not yet been officially assigned, the next project will apparently consist of the design and fabrication of a toy that uses mechanical, moving parts. Naturally, the human will be going with an overly-complicated and time-consuming marionette--a wooden, carved, painted, clothed, moving marionette. To demonstrate her understanding and acceptance of her own foolishness, I shall quote her briefly: "Kill me now."

Really, this is not a public broadcasting system of all the goings-on in my human's life. She just requested that I also put out a few words of admiration towards her favorite band, which is, of course, the Wheaton Warrenville South High School Tiger Marching Band. This band not only has an obnoxiously long name that evidentally needed to be multicolored, but they are (and here I paraphrase) the SINGLE GREATEST MARCHING BAND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND THE FLUTELINE IS RIVALED BY NONE OTHER. The human would like to add that the DUMB is dumb and she is still stuck in the glory days of the TMB. She would also like to point out that she travelled 16 hours by bus and 4 hours by Fred just to see them on the field for less than ten minutes. And she would like to emphasize that it was the best day of the year thus far.
Clearly she is one of those fans who stalks the band, hunts them down before and after performances, and jumps on top of the musicians, ensuring hugs and general chaos. They may have cause to be concerned.

After that shameless and biased promotion, I am feeling the pangs of hunger. Until next time, then.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ubi est vestri Deus nunc? Vetus mulier quod Squid triumphus!

The human had a rather amusing anecdote after her walk today, so I shall immortalize it here to provide a laugh to the general population. She was somewhere around 44th street, she told me, when she saw one of those dreadfully annoying religious zealots who solicit door to door and attempt to convert innocent victims coming down the other side of the street. He was unsuccessful for two houses, but as my human came close to passing him she saw a little old lady open the door to the next house. Apparently she listened to him for all of ten seconds before she began yelling at him to "Get the [heck] off of my porch, you can take your [gol' darned] book and go to [hades]--" (since I take the utmost care to live a G-rated life, I censored the geriatric's crude language to protect your innocence). And then, to my human's glee, the old bag rolled up the newspaper she had been holding and attempted to beat the zealot around the head! My human had paused to watch the drama unfold, but when she burst into laughter at the sight of this ancient hero's antics she felt it was best to continue moving, lest the crusader launch into a safer conversion attempt (my human, unlike the geriatric, was not armed). It is always good to watch a wrinkled old prune beat the living daylights out of a religious soliciter. If there is a more irritating creature alive, I have yet to learn of it.

Cheers and rolled-up newspapers,
Squidmore

Totus est puteus per Squid quod humanus.

After that unpleasant entry from yesterday, in which both squid and human were in fie-the-world-and-all-the-humans-in-it mode, I felt it necessary to reassure all my concerned readers (of which there are probably five or six in total. Still, this matters not.) that all is again well in room 413. The human found the hot chocolate in Hubbell up to her standards, and has nearly forgiven Walgreens for not stocking any of the sweet nectar. She also went on another walk today, and while she neither got lost or re-connected with her feline friend (much to my relief--imagine if, having escaped the Triple Terror of 2019, I suddenly found myself roommates with yet a new cat. I shudder to think of it...), she quite enjoyed the wander and the weather nonetheless. She has also finished up her midterms, and is looking forward to a week of smooth sailing until her visit home. I will be remaining here during that time, and catching up on some much-needed work on my dissertation. True, I have several years of schooling left, but one can never work too far in advance.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Latine Squid loqui coactus sum.

Hello, humans. It has been a week since last I graced your life with some intelligent reading, and hopefully you have not sunk into a typical human stupor since then. There has been absolutely nothing of interest to write about as of late--college is not nearly as thrilling an adventure as I'd hoped. The weather has turned very chilly, and my tentacles tend to become alarmingly stiff when I venture outside under aforementioned conditions, so I have been confining myself as much as possible to endeavors of the indoor sort. I am in top bed-bouncing form, although it becomes a trifle irritating to knock one's head against the ceiling on every third bounce or so. Still, with no feline annoyances and access to books of higher learning, I do feel that this is an appropriate environment for an intellectual squid such as myself. If anything interesting happens in the near future, you shall hear about it... until then, keep those brains stimulated! The level of human intelligence I witness here seems to drop lower and lower every week. It makes me very grateful that I am a squid.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Addendum: As I am a squid in a rather bad mood, I shall now take a moment, as I sometimes do, to register a complaint about humans. Today, the complaint is about the word "ridiculous." A perfectly innocent word, you may say. You probably have even used it yourself recently. Let us think about that. How recently? And how many times? Based on my observations, this word is used at least four to six times a day by the average teenage human online alone... Vocally, I dare not even investigate. This is a disgustingly overused word, utilized by humans who, having fallen into the trap of word popularity, do not have the capabilities to think of a different adjective/adverb. It is "the" word to use, and saying it seems to make humans think they fit in and sound cool. I am very proud to say that my own human, having discovered this phenomenon several years ago, has ENTIRELY ceased using this word and is able to feel independent-minded and superior because of it. Humans, can you break free of mediocre, unthinking conformity? Or will you continue beating this word into the ground with the rest of the teenage masses? Frankly, I do not have very high hopes for the former.

Second Addendum: My long-suffering human would like to express an unhappiness of her own. Generous squid that I am, I shall turn the blog over to her for a moment.
GRGLPLQXXZHNURGHHHHHH. YOU DON'T NEED TO "LIKE" EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN STATUS THAT YOU-KNOW-WHO-IM-TALKING-ABOUT POSTS. I know what you're doing. And since you don't read this, I'm allowed to mention that I really, really, really DON'T LIKE YOU. I really never have. Also, you're one of the people who uses the word "ridiculous" WAY TOO FRICKIN MUCH. Yet another distinctly un-endearing quality. Please go away.
The poor human is not having the most pleasant day today. And Walgreens does not sell hot cocoa mix, which she did not fail to bemoan, so she remains unable to brew herself up a remedy. She just told me that it was rather therapeutic to vent anonymously into a blog that few people are interested in, so perhaps I shall allow her the privilege more often. I really am far too kind. More addendums may follow, depending on the prevailing mood of room 413.

Homines, non Squid, libenter quod volunt credunt.

This will be a very short entry, but a necessary one. Humans, take note. The word "alright" does not, has never, and should not pretend to exist. It is "all right." Count the words: one, two.
Similarly, the word "alot" is not real. It ALSO has two words: "a lot." You would never write "I had alittle homework tonight," so why on earth would you write "alot?"

Foolish humans who make spelling and grammar mistakes give me migraines.

Cheers (and grumbles),
Squidmore

Pergamentum exit per Squid

The human and I were in agreement about the topic we felt needed to be addressed in today's post. She and I strongly feel that it is most urgent to discuss the pressing issue of bad odors, in the hopes that others will realize the harm that they cause to the general well-being of a dorm. She even wished to write her own post on the matter, but as we both know that I have far greater writing abilities she decided to allow me to do the honors. She did request, however, that I start off with a fitting anecdote from her past:

There was a male specimen in her high school marching band for several years while she was a member, and he was discovered to have a most horrible stench lingering about him. As she describes it, you could smell him approaching before he even came into view. This individual's odor, and the general panic that ensued whenever he approached my human and her companions, caused them to start referring to him as "Gamey." This word, quite simply, means a foul, unwholesome, squalid, putrid, reekingly offensive odor.

The purpose of this charming story is just how unwelcome bad smells are to most people with average olfactory senses. If you are one of those unfortunate individuals who fit under the wide banner of "Gameyness," people will begin to avoid you like the plague. Occasional odors are understandable and easily overlooked, but constant, gag-inducing gameyness is a phenomenon that is advisable to avoid at all costs. The same goes for not only personal hygiene, but keeping one's living quarters smelling relatively fresh, or at least neutral. This brings us to the purpose of today's discussion. There is a room on the floor where we live, occupied by human males, which has a very unpleasant odor constantly eminating from it. Its pungency is such that when these males have their door open, the entire hallway takes on the smothering stench and those passing the room find themselves having to hold their breath for quite a distance before dashing into the safety and clean smells of their own dwelling quarters. You may not realize it, but we squids do not have noses... and yet, even without olfactory glands, I still find myself needing to hang out our window and inhale some fresh air after passing by this particular room. It is quite disgusting.

Need I describe it? Imagine, if you can, the smell of unwashed laundry. Not just some clothing that's been worn for an extra day, but a whole pile of re-used socks and underwear, shirts that have been slept in and worn for several days in a row, and pants that can probably walk on their own by now. Add to this the smell of the insides of several pairs of old gym shoes. Now mix in foot odor--strong, acrid foot odor. My human tells me that shoes smell vaguely of Fritos, so throw a bag of slightly rotton corn chips into the mix. Factor in a window that has probably never been opened and several human males themselves, and you should end up with a stimulated gag reflex and a need to run for the nearest bathroom.

Now, obviously, many human males are quite capable of keeping a clean, decent-smelling abode. My human informs me that many of them are also able to smell very good themselves. There are plenty of male rooms on this floor that smell perfectly acceptable and do not cast a piquant odor down the rest of the hall. However, as I have just finished illustrating, one room is more than enough to perfume an entire floor.

Can this situation be rectified? Could simply opening their window solve half the problem? Will the rest of the penthouse residents be able to survive the winter without being overcome by the fumes? These are pressing questions that must be addressed. As a penthouse resident myself, the last point is particularly important -- self-preservation is a top priority for squids. With any luck, the offending males will soon realize that they are unable to thrive under these conditions and will taken action to eliminate the foul odor. If they do not, a well-placed cleaning lady (and there are few of those here indeed...but that is a story for another post) may become a necessary acquisition.

Cheers (and lightly-scented hankies to place under one's nose),
Squidmore

Tua Squid toga suspina est.

I am terribly sorry about the infrequent posting as of late. Between the human's homework, endless facebooking, and time-wasting, as well as my own need for sleep, it can be difficult for a squid to procure blogging time. Tonight, however, the human was occupied by the movie "Dirty Dancing," and is now applying some needlework to her marching bibbers and agreed that I could use the laptop for a while.

True to my word, I squidded over to the Cowles Library the day after my arrival, after first being schooled by the human as to the proper pronunciation of it's name. Apparently the silly girl went around calling it "cow-less," as in, "devoid of the bovine species," for several weeks before learning the correct verbalization of "coles." I did indeed locate several fine and squid-worthy nooks, and was pleased to see that the only humans nearby were sound asleep and, in all likelihood, drooling into their reference books. I never drool. Upon further exploration of the library, I discovered a rather distressing room that seemed very similar to a human jail, with sufficiently creepy, narrow staircases leading to other levels of it... I felt it was in my best interest to remain alive, and did not proceed with my investigation. The human, on the other hand, intends to delve into the dusky passages and see what she may find. I am hopeful that she shall not be maimed or scarred by this experience, as she provides my food and logs onto the laptop for me and I do not honestly know how I would manage these tasks alone.

For those of you who may be reading this and who are, regrettably, not squids, allow me to describe some of the pains I have taken to avoid being seen by the general human population. I can imagine that, for a human, it is quite easy to walk around unnoticed by other similar creatures... for a vibrantly red squid, however, the task becomes much more of a challenge. For a few days I attempted to wear some of my human's clothing and simply squidded around pretending to be a very small human being. This proved to be too much trouble however, as I could only use two tentacles at once and still managed to attract some curious stares from passing humans. Another time, I decided to go incognito by donning a pair of dark sunglasses and squidding around the empty parts of campus (I borrowed this method based on a picture my penpal sent me... it seemed to work very well for him). Sadly, the sunglasses rendered me utterly blind and after crashing into several buildings, trees, and unsuspecting squirrels, I abandoned the attempt. My latest tries have involved covering myself in an unused bedsheet and squidding rapidly down the walkways, leaping into the air at frequent intervals and making unearthly noises suggestive of the ghost that may occupy our dorm room. This seems to have worked well thus far, as most of the humans simply scream and run in the opposite direction, abandoning whatever they were holding at the time. This, happily, has resulted in some unexpected free lunches, as I do hate to see unwanted food go to waste. With any luck, this method of concealment shall work in my favor for some time yet.

Alas, bedtime has arrived and passed. I depart!
Cheers,
Squidmore