A crabby day

This, dear friends, is Phyrso the crab. Now, I know what you're thinking--how could I go from a fashionista blog to a stuffed animal blog? Maybe it's because I have the maturity level of someone who still says "fashionista." If it helps any, this particular stuffed animal is named after a bar downtown (or what I thought was a bar called Phyrso, which is actually called Phyrst. Not that I'm an English major or anything).
Friends who I introduce to my dorm can instantly tell my bed apart from my roommate's due to the swarm of stuffed animals that surround my pillow--or who are, in some cases, my pillow itself. I can almost cue the heavy sigh, the raised eyebrow look that clearly says, "are you really in college?"
No, I'm secretly an alien who had some desperate desire to use my free time to read tiny print books about camera angles and to live in a sweatbox. Of course I'm in college! Here, I even have the "I haven't slept in weeks" stumble and the wide eyed "help, I'm lost" stare to prove it.
So what is it about inanimate pets that are childish? Personally, I think any five year old would freak out if she saw a hot pink crab staring her in the face. I mean, look at those claws. Don't undermine the glitter--sparkly things can still do some serious damage. Maybe it's not the most sophisticated thing in universe, but neither is getting wasted enough to vomit all over the place. One just happens to be more socially acceptable than the other. I'd take a cute and fuzzy souvenir of freshman year before any hangover.
I've had a few crabby days these past few weeks, but instead of throwing a "woe is me" pity party (that is soo high school, which, let's be real, was so long ago), I'm just going to take a look at Phyrso and realize that even the crabby moments are shiny and cute--until they're ruined by creepy philosophical movies that involve psychotic men drilling into their skulls. Hey, that's college for ya'.

Namaste.