There’s No Place Like Home (How Corny)

I attend a college with a very unique culture. For those of you who have never heard of St. Bonaventure University (which is probably most of you), it is a small, private Franciscan university in the middle of absolutely no where.

There’s nothing to do, the weather is terrible, and you see the same people on campus every day.

So why is everyone obsessed with it?

I’m not sure. But, I’m no exception. I adore my school. It’s kind of like a cult to everyone who is a part of it. It even has a name: “The Bona Bubble.”

As a result of this cult-like obsession, most Bonnies dread leaving campus. And I don’t mean graduating. I mean, like for week-long breaks. Students actually hate traveling back home for the winter and suffer from Bonaventure withdrawal.

I suppose I am an exception to this norm, though. As much as I love my school, nothing will ever compare to being home. I wouldn’t say I’m a homebody, but I will definitely never pass up an opportunity to lay in my own bed with my cat, eat entire bags of Cheetos on my couch, and have my baskets of dirty clothes magically cleaned by the laundry fairy (thanks Mom).

Everyone at school says this feeling starts to fade as you become more and more attached to Bona’s. I still haven’t experienced that.

On Monday I traveled home for Thanksgiving, and I was just as excited as I’ve always been to be homeward bound. Upon entering my house, I promptly ate a bag of Doritos, a bowl of Reese’s Puffs and a Krispy Kreme doughnut. If I were at school I would’ve been scrounging for leftover Easy Mac scraps. Honestly, what isn’t to love about being home?

I think my love for home has a lot to do with my forever friends, too. I’ve had the same group of girl friends since the beginning of high school, and no matter how many wonderful people I meet in high school, nothing will ever replace my original friendships. A lot of people go home on breaks and sit in bed watching Netflix for 12 hours at a time, but I get to run around my hometown eating 40 cent wings at our local bar on Monday, have a wine night with the girls on Tuesday, go out on the town Wednesday, etc. (although, seriously, there is nothing wrong with a good Netflix binge).

Regardless of all that, though, it’s a wonderful time to be home with family. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays and no, not just because of the food. I love the energy that comes along with Thanksgiving. The though of sleeping in Thursday morning, watching that stupid parade with my Mom, making more appetizers than I’ll ever be able to eat, and laughing for the rest of the day with the most important people… how can you not smile at that?

So, as much as I love being young and wild and free at college, I’ll always love the comfort of home even more. And I encourage everyone to appreciate that comfort this week, too.

I guess it goes without saying that my stress levels are at an all-time minimum right now. But, never fear, as soon as I get back to school there’s only one week until finals. Nothing puts a damper on the holiday season like that realization. Buzzkill.

Anyway, Happy (early) Thanksgiving ๐Ÿ™‚

Image from

Image from


It’s My Birthday And I’ll Blog If I Want To

In typical Laura Meyers fashion, I was brought home in a cop car last night.

No, not like that. I simply asked for a ride home from the bar and he gave me one. Super casual.

Anyway, I’m finally legal!! And I know I don’t usually blog on Thursdays, but refer to the title.

That being said, I’m sorry if there are any typos or grammatical errors in this post. I’m not really in a proof reading type of mood, but then again, I’m not really in any type of mood other than an I’m-going-to-skip-all-my-classes-and-lay-in-bed-until-I-get-bed-sores type of mood (Sorry to my professor who is probably reading this post about skipping class. I’m uh- sick?).



Now, I’m going to make a list of things that define my birthday as being not calm, cool or collected:

  1. I got brought home in a cop car from the bar last night as a sincere favor, but we’ve already discussed this. I’ll have to blog another time about my weird ability to convince people to do what I want…
  2. I accused people of talking about me last night when I left the room. I’m almost positive I made the entire scenario up and I’m almost positive I did it because I wasn’t getting enough attention.
  3. I wore a DARE shirt out last night. Enough said.
  4. My dad bought me a tub of Utz cheeseballs for my 21st birthday. That’s for real.
  5. My friend also brought me a sub. I mean like an actual submarine sandwich. Turkey, lettuce, tomato to get specific. What kind of sicko gets excited about a turkey sandwich present? I do.
  6. I didn’t have class until 1 p.m. and I still couldn’t make it. I’m not sure if I’m even hungover. I think I just look for any excuse to take personal days.
  7. The only time I left my bed so far today was for a breakfast sandwich. It was ah-mazing, though, so I don’t regret the energy I put into obtaining it.
  8. I haven’t showered today and I don’t plan on it. Refer to my last comment on the energy involved in ordering a b-fast sammy. Can you even imagine the energy involved in bathing?
  9. My friends have decided to upload hideous pictures of me on Twitter for the past hour. I’m scared scrolling through my timeline. When I say hideous, I mean hideous (although, I do have a small habit of exaggerating…).
  10. I have to do it all over again tonight.

So, that’s my birthday, and my life, in a nutshell. Feel free to make fun of me, because everyone else is.

And now, I am going to get ready to go to happy hour at Applebee’s because that’s what 21 and fun girls do. Ta-ta!

Manic Mondays: (Un)Happy National Coffee Day

Alas, it’s Monday again. Bring on the mania.

The weekend has taken it’s usual train-wreck toll on me, and I’m struggling to get back into the weekday routine. But! There’s something great about today: It’s National Coffee Day!

Something I might actually consider keeping calm about... Photo from

Something I might actually consider keeping calm about…
Photo from

Now, I’m not sure what it takes to actually become a “National” day. Every time I go on Twitter it’s National Second Cousin Day or National Buy a Goldfish Day or something equally moronic. But, as an avid (and by avid I mean addicted) coffee drinker, I will not pass up an excuse to celebrate the juice of life.

To make this holiday even more exciting, Dunkin’ Donuts decided to give out free medium coffees to every customer. I first saw this promotion advertised on Twitter yesterday (I need to get off social media) and obviously, I was overjoyed. I’m a Dunkin’ girl through and through, so naturally I couldn’t wait for my FREE medium, hot or iced coffee the following morning. Little did I know it’s in Dunkin’s hiring requirements to be miserable.

Let me start off by saying, again, that I live, laugh, love Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Starbucks is overpriced and Tim Hortons’ brew taste like dirt (sorry, not sorry, Tim). However, I have come to learn over the years not to expect stellar service or stellar products from Dunkin’. My coffee usually has too much sugar or too little cream, they’re always out of plain bagels, their frozen beverage machine is often broken, not one employee knows how to make a bacon, egg and cheese correctly- the list goes on and on. Yet, I still come back for more and I’m usually very forgiving about my less than impressive experience.

Until today. This morning I woke up and bounced to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts eager for my free coffee, only to find out it would be served with RUDENESS. When I asked about the promotion to verify what I had seen on Twitter, I was told in a monotone voice that I could only get a dark roast, hot coffee, NOT any hot or iced coffee as I had seen advertised.

Whatever. I was willing to look past that. You can’t believe everything you seen on the internet, anyway. What I was not willing to look past was the blatant annoyance that the Dunkin’ employee had as he was forced into giving this peppy, little blonde her free coffee. He rang me out without even imitating happiness and continued to talk about his cigarette break while making my drink. Is life really THAT bad in coffee-land that you can’t fake a smile for me, dude?

Long story short, I received my free hot coffee and enjoyed every second of it, despite my angst-ridden barista’s attempt to ruin my National Coffee Day.

Not today, buddy, not today.

Eating Dis Order of Fries

It’s about time we dive into one of my less flattering attributes: the inability to stop eating when I’m full.

I recently tweeted:

Actually not sure if I want you in my life if you say no to free pizza logs.

Actually not sure if I want you in my life if you say no to free pizza logs.

Which is embarrassingly true. No matter how full I am, if there is food available to me that looks mildly appetizing, I’m proba- definitely going to be nose-deep in it in a matter of seconds. There’s something in me that says, “Don’t do it,” but the part of me that says, “Screw it. Eat the Big Mac,” is a bigger bully (and probably just bigger in general, judging by her eating habits).

It even gets to the point where I’m uncomfortable. Last week I nearly ate myself into a comatose after shoving my face with three pieces of spaghetti pie (curse my boyfriend for being a good cook).

Now, this may not seem to connect to my stress levels. However, my over-eating directly influences my unnecessary meltdowns seeing as it leads to at least three, “I’M SO FAAAAAATTTTTT,” mental breakdowns each week. My friends and family can vouch for me on that (God bless them).

By no means am I overweight, and I’m well aware of that. At the same time, I do have the eating habits of a toddler who refuses to eat anything that resembles a vegetable. It’s honestly like my body rejects nutritious food but gladly welcomes any sort of artificial cheese product. I’m not kidding, when I decided to write a blog, someone suggested that I write about my passion for Cheetos, cheese balls, etc. That’s a sick joke.

When I was younger I had my cholesterol tested, although I can’t remember exactly why. All I remember was the results coming back and the doctors pretty much telling me that I had ice cream running through my veins instead of blood. You would think that would be a wake-up call.

Photo from

Photo from

So, my question is: Why haven’t I learned when to say no? After I’ve cried my weekly fat tears, why don’t I decline the Krispy Kreme? When I know my arteries are clogging as I type, why can’t I walk away from the free samples in Wegmans? What separates me from the people who only allow themselves three lettuce leaves and one cup of quinoa a day?

It’s probably something chemical in my brain, or at least I’ll convince myself that’s what it is instead of admit I have a total lack of self-control.

I always wonder at the same time, though, why I would ever deprive myself of something I really want. If I want to go to Taco Bell for dinner four times this week, what is stopping me? Honestly, that’s probably the rational of any functioning addict. That’s scary.

Maybe I’ll try to eat healthier. Maybe I’ll even blog about my trials and tribulations as a faux health nut.

Probably not, though.