TGI Friday

No, it’s not the restaurant. Today is, at long last, Friday.

Every college student (and possibly every student and/or member of the workforce) looks forward to Fridays. They mark the end of the week, the exciting (or relaxing) beginning to the weekend, and above all, the chance to do something fun.

Today will be a good day, in spite of the multitude of things I have to do. This has been a long, hard week, and I am looking forward to tonight, that gilded Friday night where the only thought on anyone’s mind is: I’m going to have fun because I don’t have to go to school/work tomorrow.

Today will be a good day because I woke up from a dream about Ian Somerhalder. Mmmm. For you teacup human aficionados (although that has nothing to do with Ian), go look up the CW’s The Vampire Diaries and watch it. Right now. Ian is probably the finest man alive, and as Damon the bad-boy brother with a sweet heart, he’s irresistible. At least for me. Dreaming about him put me in such a good mood I didn’t care that I only had thirty minutes to get dressed, eat, and prepare for my first class.

Today will be a good day because I am wearing The Sunshine Dress. Those of you who know me or who have seen me bopping around campus will probably recognize this dress; purchased two years at one of my (then) favorite stores, it is a sweet little sundress with a yellow and white flowered skirt, cinched waist, and an adorable little cream shrug to cover my shoulders. In it I look like an ad for Easter candy and colored eggs. So The Sunshine Dress is my way of spreading my delight to others and bringing a little bit of sunshine to the rest of the world.

But above all today will be a good day because it is Friday. Fridays have some kind of magical power over us; they release us from the drudgery of our lives and give us a few delusional hours of freedom. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was stressed on a Friday night. In high school sitting through the last-hour class was torture for the teacher and students alike. For those final twenty minutes most of the teachers would give up and let us chatter amongst ourselves. They're glad it's Friday too. In college the rules are a little different, but that same feeling of lightness and exuberant freedom remains.

I, having spent my week running around, intend to spend my Friday evening being all that is peaceful and serene. I will dream of Ian Somerhalder. I will chat with my Italian TA (chi è la persona più bella nel mondo!) And I will wear The Sunshine Dress and be so darn happy I freak out my fellow students (not really. I am more responsible than this).

Ciao cari amici!

WolfGrrl 

Identifying the Teacup Human

Hello hello! My name is WolfGrrl and it is my pleasure to welcome you to the world of a teacup human. What is a teacup human you ask? I'm sure you've seen us: struggling to get things off of shelves in the grocery store, climbing on stools to find books in the library, and glaring at the unwieldy arrangements of merchandise at Target. We are everywhere, though we're often overlooked due to our resemblance to arm-rests, coat-racks, and other inanimate props.

The first time I ever heard the term "teacup human" as applied to me was when I was in high school. My Technical Theatre director had several of us smallish sized people in his class, and he referred to us once, in a fit of affectionate exasperation, as teacup humans. I, naturally, was offended. After all, it's not my fault I'm vertically challenged.

However, as time passed I've come to terms with my status as a miniature human, and with this blog I hope to share my experiences with my comrades across the world and so make life a little bit easier (I hope) for all of us who are smaller-than-average.

First off though is a quickie guide in identifying what makes a teacup human:

1. These are people who disappear in a crowd. And I don't mean in the James Bond super-spy manner of disappearing; I mean when the horde descends on the dining hall at noon the average teacup human is sucked out of sight faster than a keg at a frat party.
2. They are often identifiable by a pair of sunglasses, a hat, or a high ponytail. This being all that can be seen over the clothing racks, crowd, etc.
3. They're the ones taller, lazier people are leaning on. I've had too much experience as my friends' arm-rest, coat-rack, and flying buttress.
4. When working as a Sunday school teacher/camp counselor/anything involving a group of small children, the teacup human will be camouflaged completely. I taught four-year-olds for four years, and when we were all sitting together at Circle Time...well, I've had any number of parents get confused when they try to differentiate the teacher from the students.
5. They are usually being picked up, carried around, or otherwise manhandled by their friends. And also (occasionally) by total strangers. I don't see what's do darn entertaining about a tiny person, but apparently it's a HUGE attraction. Huh.

So there you go: five easy ways of identifying your average teacup human. There are many more signs, but these are a good starting place.

Until next time!
WolfGrrl