On any usual Thursday, I’d be hiding away on the backside of the library, doing my homework diligently (but really knee-deep in ruining the lives of five Sim children in a game of the Sims 3) as I wait for my next class to start – a time span that usually consists of a two or three hour wait.

But, just to shake things up a bit, while getting a dose of potential human interaction, I found myself seated on the suck-you-in-with-comfort green couch on the first floor of Leavenworth. This time, though, actually appearing like I was doing some homework and not scowling at my computer because, once again, So-and-so Sim caught the kitchen on fire.

Of course, this was all an attempt to blend into my surroundings and be free to listen in on any passing conversation.

Who knew?

So with my iPod headphones set in my ears (but not actually playing anything) and a random textbook from my backpack open on my lap, I wait.

Somewhere in between one unsuspecting victim forgetting how to spell coffee (but really knowing how to all along) and another walking by yelling into their phone that the person on the other side needs to “learn how to stick up for themselves,” I found myself impatiently ready for someone bursting with gossip to walk by.

Well, I set myself up for that one.

An hour into my not-really studying, I was straining to hear what topics of conversations were being discussed in any open office nearby – of course, while still attempting to look as unsuspecting as possible at the same time. How impossible.

Everything was normal for a moment – nothing worthy of straining my neck for.

And then it struck.

A high voice somewhere down the hall suddenly asked loudly, “Is the pimple on my lip still huge?”

This was quickly followed by a female scampering into the women’s bathroom.

And there I was, one headphone popped out and a notebook suddenly in my lap, quickly scribbling down this poor girl’s lip-pimple-problem down on the paper, while trying really hard not to chuckle at her expense.

Ah, yes, the perils of living without perfect skin.

And while I don’t think I’d be the one to blurt that out in the middle of the hallway of Leavenworth, I couldn’t help but think, “Well, I hope there’s no pimple on my face?”