Gchat is a misleading name...

...because i do not use it to chat with my G's. I miss AIM, but just like Livejournals written in pink on black backgrounds, it seems they are becoming just another thing dismissed as SOOO HIGHSCHOOL (and I'm the only one sayin ain't nothin wrong with that).

The list of people on my Gchat is arbitrarily decided for me by Google. Somehow, my best friends don't show up as my contacts, but a select few people who I hate having to do schoolwork with and the lady I babysit for do. And google has to be so damn user-friendly to the point that they're cryptic: Do I want to automatically appear on user's lists as previously specified by...I DON'T KNOW, GOOGLE! JUST LET ME TALK TO MY FRIENDS!

But only my friends. Because now that I see the lady I babysit for, and she sees me, i wonder if everyone I email can't use some setting also to see me. Is my professor looking on? My future employers? Whoever may be looking makes me to afraid to write expletives or emo lyrics as my bullshit Gchat mockery of an away message.

And don't you go telling me that's a good thing.

Ur outfit's soooo hegemonic

Every now and again, I’ll see a MDST Queen.

Be it male or female or she-male, they are sure to out-sparkle the rest of the class in a Google search of the room.

Media studies fashion, if executed satisfactorily, exists in subtle pieces of flair. But once in a while, it is executed astonishingly well, and therefore begs the question, “Did your five-year-old sister sleep over and dress you?”

MDST 110 seems to be an eye in the hurricane of North Face. Sometimes the ladies will wear a hoodie but NEVER a plain one and even less often a standard pattern (except an ugly shade of plaid, that’s sometimes allowed.) Your hoodie needs to have something along the lines of duckies or boom boxes on it; more power to you if it incorporates both.

Shoes—men, I’ve already discussed your poor shoe choices. (See the posts “Not sure if I’ll fail or pass…” and “For every 1,000 people who read this blog…” below.) Women—never heels, usually flats. The flats must have very fat and very ugly rhinestones, very enormous gold pendants, or both.

Scarves and pashminas are encouraged across the board. Any form of headdress (save for a U.Va hat unless of course it is worn ironically) will gain a MDST student honor and mad propz.

In 110 today, in the MiDST of contemplating what Siva’s home life could possibly entail, I saw her walk nonchalantly to the restroom. I first noticed her enormous pewter peace sign earrings somehow shoved through her ear. Next, I saw her slouchy black rubber boots fit for a lady fisherman…who ever said you had to conform and wear those pink galoshes with whales on them in the rain? Her coat was a mangy looking oversized plaid number—homeless-chic.

But what really hit it out of the park was her iridescent headband—it looked as if it was a left-over party favor from her best friend’s birthday party. When she turned eight. Sometimes I miss the occasional ENGL lecture. Angry, under-appreciated minds clad in drab sweaters and functional pea coats now seem like they’d be refreshingly bleak.