This one goes out to Kate Pieper

Ahh the joys of having a computer again! And access to the university's internet! I can now work on my dissertation.

Yep that is what I am doing...working on the diss. You can tell because I am in the library. What's that you say Kate? I am talking to you on skype, checking facebook, reading cracked.com (which everyone should by the way), and renting a movie on iTunes for later, oh and doing a blog entry? Fine you caught me.

All joking aside I am mostly in the library all day and night so there is little to blog about besides the uni's Bibliothek, which I will do now.

1. Outlets are few and far between. Since it is Friday afternoon I don't have a problem. Normally, however, there is someone sitting next to one without a computer filing their nails or something equally inane (not like reading cracked.com). There are tons of outlets in the S-Stacks, but unfortunately no internet connection.

2. The 6th floor which has all of the archaeology, anthro, and classics collections smells. No, it is not the friendly smell of dust and rotting books. As you walk up the stairwell to this floor, you are overpowered by the sent of vomit, which someone has tried to cover up by opening up a bunch of those scented markers.

3. Each night around 10 they announce that they are closing the circulation desk. And every night at this time I am momentarily freaked out. Why? German + loudspeakers = creepy/impending death

4. After I finish reading cracked.com (if you didn't think I could mention it three times, you don't know me) and want to go home I go to the self-checkout lane and am homesick for Stop and Shop or Meijers (it depends on the day). One day I didn't bring my library card. I asked the girl at the circ desk to hold some books back there for me until the next morning. She then proceeded to tell me that it was the most difficult thing she ever had to do and how she didn't know if that would work. I promised to come back bright and early the next morning with my card and get them. No one would ever have to know. Finally she wrote an novel length note and attached it to the books. Needless to say I slept in the next morning and never came for the books. That night I tried to sneak by her. Too bad I was wearing the same sweatshirt.
("Why didn't I go back?" you ask, Kate. You would have slept in too if you had watched a million hours of Australia, whose only redeeming feature is Hugh Jackman being sexy in every scene, until 4am)