1. Stuff is my favorite euphemism/code name/non-descriptive moniker for everything. You want stuff? I got stuff (keep in mind, I probably mean cookies and not illegal stuff, which I don't want or know how to get and would not ever go near for fear of losing financial aid, and yes I'm actually serious). Perhaps this comes from my '80s upbringing with the New Kids on the Block and how they possessed the "right" stuff. "Some" stuff is even more vague--saying "I have some stuff for you" is my way of telling a person that I have a either 1) a surprise present, 2) contraband in the form of a cookie so delicious that saying "cookie" out loud might invite others to steal your cookie, and so using code language is best for ensuring a successful handoff, or 3) a random melange of objects, so literally, "stuff." Using the definite article "the" preceding "stuff" denotes stuff so special it cannot be described here.
2. I am a badass, but only in my dreams. I also occasionally incorporate my reading materials in my dreams, and in this particular dream, probably a combo stastistics and the Becoming Gentlemen article I critiqued earlier. I had a dream the other day that one of my favorite friends, TM, and I were in a statistics class in which a bearded I Blame the Patriarchy prof kept whistling a tune while TM was trying to talk! This happened twice, too many times to be idle whistling! He was obviously trying to drown out her comments, and in a particularly demeaning way! Of course, I had to do something. Thwacking a pencil at his forehead is assault (even in my dreams, I know this), so the next time he tried to talk, I interrupted him, loudly, and asked him if he would like it if I whistled while he talked. Ya like that? Any requests? How about Danny Boy?! The theme from Andy Griffifth?! Who's whistling dixie now, eh? Put your lips together and blow on that!
And then I woke up.
Of course, in real life, my whistles are anemic whiffles as through an empty Pepsi can, but whatever. In my dreams, I am a valiant whistling savior.
3. I run 10-15 miles a week so that I can keep my slim, shapely figure and not die too soon from all the bacon, butter, and chocolate I eat. Homemade quiche lorraine and bittersweet chocolate pudding are the bomb. I may still die early, but I will be happier and a little faster. Tell my future children that I love them.