Weekly Roundup: The Snow is gone, but the Cold remains

Hey guys! Weekly roundup time! You know, that thing I promised almost a year ago but have never actually done? Yeah, that thing.

This week has been a week that started out awesome, and slowly degraded from there. Last week at this time there was snow EVERYWHERE, and it was awesome. No, like seriously. You know that song about a winter wonderland (that we were not allowed to sing, by the way), and how it talks about the snow being so beautiful? Yeah, it was rendered useless by just how gorgeous this snow actually was.

Oh, I'm in this picture. I'm actually right beneath them, under the snow (why do you think they're laughing so hard?)

Last weekend was just awesome. We got snowed in with a few relatives, who were definitely up for a party. I played some Call of Duty (or as I call it, Quickscoped some n00bs), and we all played a lot of poker. It was a blast.

So picture this. It's two in the morning, and you are doing what most normal human beings are doing at two in the morning: sleeping. You're dream-self is about to bite into the largest cheeseburger in the world, when suddenly you are rudely yanked out of la-la land by a knock at the door.

Grumbling something about McDonalds, you slowly stumble out of bead, you're hair is a mess, and you throw on some real clothes (PJ's don't count) and slog to the door.

Upon opening it, you see this:

Dramatization.

There's a lady at your door completely stuck in the snow. Apparently her 4-wheel drive Honda had never seen snow before (this is Oregon, after all) and just decided to stop in out cul-de-sac and look around for a bit. Can't say that I blame it.

So there my parents are, trying to push this lady out of the snow, as she madly spins her wheels trying desperately to get some traction. Eventually something must have worked, because last time I checked our street was pretty Honda-less.

Saddest story ever: By Tuesday, the snow was all:

Some people are worth melting for

so my Philosophy teacher could tell us all (with that smug grin only Philosophy teachers have) that he was going to hold class. Pfft. Class.

After a few hours of sitting in a stiff chair doing my best impersonation of The Thinker, I was told the midterm will be a take-home test, to be done over a week.

Note: Don't do this in class. You get funny looks.

And that's when it was time for dance.

A note for anyone reading this, I like dance. No, wait, scratch that. I love dance. Like, seriously, I love it. So when I'm with a partner who loves it just as much as I do, that's something special. Those are the best dances.

We find out our partners next week. I'm crossing my fingers! There are a lot of girls I would have a blast dancing with, and a few... not so much.

But on to the FAIL OF THE WEEK: So we were approaching the end of dance. I was dog-tired and sweaty as all heck. Like: I was tired. We had worked really, really hard throughout the entire dance.

So when I was dancing with my last partner (who is awesome by the way), we decided to do the easiest lift. The problem with the easiest lift in the dance is that it is lightning-fast, and you almost don't have time to recover.

We get to that part. I look at her and nod. She goes for it. I try to move. And then... and then...

I let her slip right through my fingers!

Boom. On the ground.

Now, she wasn't hurt or anything. Fortunately, I cushioned her fall (by using the hand-hold to break it) and we recovered, trying our hardest not to laugh. But, here's the truth, it's a matter of pride that a guy should never, ever drop a girl.

See, when a lift goes wrong, the girl is the one who gets hurt (most of the time). And despite the fact that most lifts are equally difficult for the guy and the girl, the danger is very lopsided. When the girl drops, no matter how "fine" she is, the guy's heart feels like it is going to give out on him.

Another thing about it is that, due to guys hyper-analyzing girls (we do it sometimes), we become afraid that the girl being dropped will be interpreted to mean that either:

A: The girl is fat (Never the reason)

or B: The guy is weak (rarely the reason).

Of course, simple logic will show that neither of those means anything. It doesn't matter if the girl weighs 110 or 500, if she can hold herself up and use the right mechanics any guy with an ounce of strength can lift her, and those mechanics only come with practice. And the same goes for the guys. I don't go to the gym or even exercise outside of dance and an occasional game of b-ball, and even I have yet to find a (reasonable) lift I can't do.

So the guys are so scared that the will get hurt (physically or mentally). I have seen people get hurt on more dangerous lifts (but the one I did was pretty safe), and I have never seen a girl come out of it blaming herself or the guy. Messing up a lift is something that happens, and every time it does is one more time to know what not to do.

I'm sick again.

Like, seriously. WHY? I just got over a cold, and now, again, I am calling mother "Bawb" and wheezing. Had to miss Wednesday Bible Study, Thursday dance, and life in general. Yeah, it sucks being sick. Just say NO! to viruses, kids! Only you can prevent wildfires!

In other news, Valentine's day (or, as it is colloquially known as on Facebook, Single Awareness Day) has come and gone again.

As a result of my forever alone-ness (no applications please, ladies), I ended us babysitting while my Dad pulled out all the stops for a romantic Valentine's dinner. They had Ribeye steak and Ahi tuna, and Flan and cupcakes... but you know what?

Signing off, ladies and gentlemen! See you later!