In which Jennifer selects a topic...

I gave Jennifer the task of selecting the topic of this blog, as she is sitting next to me at the moment and I can't readily think of anything to write on my own.

We're waiting, Jennifer.

Think faster.

"Any other time, I would think: "I want Laura to write about that, I want Laura to write about that.'" Jennifer says, sitting here on the couch in her apartment as we watch an episode of Ghost Hunters neither of us are paying any attention to. Andy is divulging too much information to Jennifer, and she is getting a bit freaked out, causing her to not think of a blog topic fast enough to suit me.

Therefore, I am writing everything that comes out of her mouth. And what is happening in the room right now. Like how Jen is humming. Humming, humming, okay, there--she stopped.

She did recommend my writing about how I should write about how we were Piggy Partners. So, Jen and I, once upon a time, were Piggy Partners. We cut up a fetal pig together, culminating in our using the small intestine as a jump rope and the boys in front of us, Keith and Brook, cutting Keith's hand so badly that he had to seek emergency medical attention. I was secretly satisfied that this happened, because both of them were unpleasant, especially Keith, who liked to preach his right-wing (ignorant, in this case) viewpoints to the class at the drop of a hat.

I tried to take out the brain and it just ended up being extremely disgusting, the only nasty part of the experience. I even grossed myself out, when I thought that I should keep going, when I knew I should stop the horror show.

Did I mention someone put the leg of a dissection subject on the door handle of our freshman English teacher's door? She was odd and kind of deserved it for some of the freaky things she did when we were in school. Like when the chem class made fake smells (strawberry, peach, etc.) and one of them smelled like peach vomit, leading to a class member to vomit on himself and the desk and the horrible stench of both the fake smell and his vomit spreading throughout the high school hallway. Miss M. lit all the candles in her classroom (which had no windows) and filled the room with perfume (I am allergic) and smoke (I am allergic) with no ventilation since it was neither cold nor hot at the time, so no heat or AC in the school building. She would scream at students entering to come in quickly and shut and lock the door after them. By the end of class I thought I was going to die, my head hurt so bad.

And once, Jennifer tried to make our pig walk, ending with her dropping the pig off the table and onto the floor, to her extreme embarrassment. I thought it was kind of funny.

And there you have it, our pig dissection, shortened to a few sentences. And that was how Jen and I first got to know each other, leading to us becoming friends in my freshman year of college, when she leaned out the window of the Winger Commuter Lounge, yelling for me to come inside and hang out with her and Becky.

The rest is history.

Kind of funny to think we bonded over the corpse of a dead porcine fetus. Apparently this is a good foundation for a friendship.

It's seemed to work for us.