Neopian Inflation is currently at 2.31%? What is this madness?!

Shit We Love: Neopets (Update!!)

Neopian Inflation is currently at 2.31%? What is this madness?!

It’s been 127 hours. I know you’ve all been hanging on the edge of your seats to hear about our neopets adventures! I’mma let you finish your studying (sorry I’m not sorry for bringing back an annoying trend), but first lemme tell you about some of our discoveries in the past couple of days. Treat. Yo. Self. to a quick study break!

1. Slasla 12 is fully clothed–We did some thrifting at the Money Tree and got her this new getup. But, sh*t it was 99 cents (1,000 Neopoints)!

2. Apparently it’s unacceptable to play Neopets in public–The amount of weird looks we have received for taking care of Slasla12 in the Rock, the Scili, the Blue Room, Starbucks, Blue State, ABP, Metcalf, the Ratty, lecture, section, and in review sessions is starting to get ridiculous. Ok, so maybe some of our writers may have been caught on Neopets at the gym, but it was ONE time! What up with that?

3. Neopets can best quality finals friends–If your study schedule looks anything like this, some time with a Neopet might not be too bad.  Your self esteem is on the fritz and you’re going cray. Fear not! Neopets will always be there for you. They were for this guy’s mom.

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My Strange Addiction: A crafter’s confession

It stared with pom poms—small, fuzzy, seemingly innocuous pom poms. It ended with a rejection email from the casting director of TLC Broadcasting and a newfound hatred of Tori Spelling. But let’s start with the pom poms. They were my gateway craft and this is my story.

Second grade.  This is when my trouble began. “Mrs. E” was a tired teacher, exhausted by the endless screams and giggles of small children. She would shovel glitter and glue sticks and pom poms into our small eager palms and sigh “craft time” before she shuffled outside to smoke a cig.  We had pipe cleaners and finger paint and more googly eyes than any child knew what to do with. For the rest of the class, craft time was just an opportunity to get a bead stuck up your nose. For me, it was sweet solace.

This was well before I knew I would end up at RISD, well before I figured out my energy could be channeled into more fruitful artistic endeavors. Haunted by the image of Barney and his far superior craft box, I was hungry for more projects. As the years went on—and many Christmases passed where it was pretty much guaranteed that in that handmade box with the handmade bow was a small handmade present made by me—my crafting compulsion spiraled out of control.

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