A User-Friendly Revolution

Some Letters Part 2

2011-08-07T22:08:00.002-05:00

Dear people who actually read this blog,
I'm sorry. I truly am. I have not meant to ignore you for so long. I've just had a lot going on. There was a health scare, I'm babysitting all the time for this huge nightmare of a 2 year old...
...and I'm bullshitting you. To be honest, I got a tumblr, and it has pretty much sucked my life away from any other productive thing in my life. You know how it goes.
I have some interesting posts lined up that are too long for my tumblr, I swear.
I love you. And I'm sorry again.
Love, Zoe

Dear Darth Vader alarm clock,
I know you were only $10...but I expected so much more from you.
Your clock radio has no visible screen so I can see what station I'm on...so that's just stupid.
And something is wrong with your internal timer because you are always falling behind my normal clock so I have to turn you forward ever day or so. Being a clock is your main function. Please start getting your head in the game.
Love, Zoe

Dear fat-ass cat on top of my feet,
I know you are comfortable, but I need to pee. Please move.
Love, Zoe
P.s. Get a kitty treadmill before you get kitty diabetes. I'm just looking out for ya.

Dear loud random thump in the middle of the night,
Please stop doing that. My anxiety cannot take this anymore.
Love, Zoe

Dear chocolate pie in my fridge,
You rock, don't ever change.
Love, Zoe

Ambien Blogging: Worst Idea EVER:: IT'S COMING CLOSEEEEEEEER

2011-06-28T23:17:00.007-05:00

I turned on my computer this morning to see that my blog was up. Curious, seeing as how I didn't remember posting anything. Then I began reading.

My doctor put me on Ambien a few weeks ago to try to combat the night crazies that I have. Turns out Ambien makes me even more crazy, but in a more hilarious-and-I-don't-remember-a-thing kind of way.

I've had conversations with my sister that I don't remember at all, but were apparently interesting. Like my idea for the best game show ever, which is a contest between a lion and bear to see who can eat people the fastest. But don't worry, the people would me made of gummies.

Or the time I called my sister into my room because the beaver dams in my bed were being too loud.

Or the text I sent my friend about how my bed had turned into a condo and I didn't know where I was.

Anywho, here is the entry I wrote while tripping hardcore. I'm going to help translate my Ambien ramblings if you can't understand me.

SO today i had the brilliant idaw ti wtire a short entry about all that happens wbhil i'm......tripppin
i have to old one eye closed cause other wise theres overlapping shit....and the keys on the keyboard hace a lot to keys tooo.
(So today I had the brilliant idea to write a short entry about all that happens while I'm.....tripping. I have to hold one eye closed cause otherwise there's overlapping shit...and the keys on the keyboard have a lot of keys.)
-Solid start. But then it gets weird. I go from basic info...to strange.-

oh so hgere we go:
this is my story of why I can't sleep tonight.
Fitst off there are tiny cratures everytwher. they are totally dpenedednt on me for everything. lift this building., go do thism, blah blah. i mean i do it cause i'm good, byut whatever
(Oh so here we go: This is my story of why I can't sleep tonight [no typos!] First off, there are tiny creatures everywhere. They are totally dependent on me for everything. Lift this building. Go do this, blah blah. I mean I do it because I'm good, but whatever)

then shit got candyland with chocolate lavaa abd u couodn't breathge or nothin, so i'm swimmin and swimmin then I break free at a lobster festval, and they're like, perfect, lobsters and chocolate. then they all come aftyer me abd I'm like wtf.
(Then shit got candyland with chocolate lava and I couldn't breathe or nothing, so I'm swimming and swimming then I break free at a lobster festival, and they're like, 'perfect, lobsters and chocolate'. Then they all come after me and I'm like wtf?)
-Shit got candyland?-

----- (by the way, these ---'s where here already.)
Oh I fell out of bed.. there was a mog and they were mad about hammers and oil so I fell of the edgr but my mommmy came and picked me up and now w'ere all gine.
(Oh I fell out of bed. There was a mog and they were mad about hammers and oil so I fell off the edge but my mom came and picked me up and now we're all fine)
-"I'm a mog. Half man, half dog. I'm my own best friend."-
----

why weight keeps leaing to the left. whyyyy can't i walk without going lefft?
Also everythign is twice. that keys so irritating.
(My weight keeps leaning to the left. Why can't I walk without going left? Also everything is twice. The keys are so irritating.)
-What, so I can type irritating but not simple words like "the"?. And yes, double vision and no balance happened.-

Oh oh oh when if we made a wold ful,l iof helpful giants. hey's help us build shit and be fun at parties. just like in The Iron GiANNT
That movuie always makes me want to cry tears until all my fluids is gone so I have to cry piss.
(Oh oh oh what if we made a world full of helpful giants. They'd help us build shit and be fun at parties. Just like in The Iron Giant. That movie always makes me want to cry tears until all my fluids are gone so I have to cry piss.)
-What about crying piss? Also helpful giants would be fun at parties.-

OOOOOOOOoooooooooOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH
I acidentally posted too soon/. hehehehehehee
(Ooooh, I accidentally posted too soon. Hehe.)
-Oh no. That would be terrible if this ended too soon.-

My legs are jelly. Hey look ove here at jelly leggs mcgee! it's a new dance form.
(My legs are jelly. Hey look over here at Jelly Legs McGee. It's a new dance form.)
-EVERYBODY'S DOING IT!-

I think I lost my child in the war agtainst the gummie worm king. terrible war trhat was/ I shoudl go back and tey to sace me. He is alice. also the sun is so hnot so the troops may be melted..
(I think I lost my child in the war against the Gummie Worm King. Terrible war that was. I should go back and [say to face me?] [try to face me?]. He is Alice. Also the sun is so hot so the troops may be melted...)
-Valid point.-

------

I am aliver..all is good. i had to build a condo for a friend because he wanted one, so i did
(I am [Oliver?] [alright?]. All is good. I had to build a condo for a friend because he wanted one so I did.)
-I sure am obsessed with gummies and condos on Ambien.-

they're wathicn gme everywhere. i made it to the other side of town, hiding with the statue of Chandler Bing.
The fairies know where were are. good or bad
i want to go to sleep. but i gert lost in the jumgle.]]
(They're watching me everywhere. I made it to the other side of town, hiding with the statue of Chandler Bing. The fairies know where we are. Good or bad. I want to go to sleep but I get lost in the jungle.)
-I have not seen an episode of Friends in a very very long time. Seriously.-

I'm gonna try.
-(Straightforward)-

YIPPIE KAI YEA MUTHAFYUCKERSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
-And I went Die Hard there.-

Well. That's the end of my Ambien tripping blog post. I hope you enjoyed it.
I'm pretty sure I had fun writing it....but I honestly don't remember.

When there's something strange...

2011-04-29T12:55:00.005-05:00

Okay. Something new today: VIDEO!

This has been happening sporadically the entire I've been in this room.

The person chuckling out of frame is my friend Rachel...not the ghost laughing at my misfortune.

My RA heard me talking and after I stopped the video she said it happened to her phone too. Maybe the ghost isn't just my phone, but all of 9th floor?
I mean, the ghost spilled juice on my bed last semester. THERE WASN'T EVEN ANY JUICE IN MY ROOM!
Not to mention when the ceiling fell on Rachel last year.
The hand dryer turns on randomly sometimes too.

So I ask this of you, my friends:
Who you gonna call?

Random Moments with my Family (pt. 3)

2011-04-22T16:26:00.007-05:00

My sister did later explain that she'd read a study that said that people with anxiety disorder find relief by masturbating.

Still one of the more uncomfortable conversations I've had with my sister...

Reason I Know I've Lost My Mind #7

2011-03-28T20:03:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting in my dorm, innocently studying for my early 20th century art history quiz tomorrow, which consists of memorizing the name, dated, artist and medium of 10 pieces of art, 5 of which will be chosen at random and I will be quizzed on.

Now, I hate memorization. I mean I HATE it.
My short-term memory loss makes it really hard for me to remember normal everyday things.

You know those times when you walk up the stairs and when you get to the top and you don't remember why? Yeah, that's EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF MY LIFE. My train of thought jumps the tracks and takes me to bum-fuck nowhere in 3 seconds flat, and all I can do is look around and say "HOLY SHIT, AM I ON A TRAIN!?"

Yeah.

So having to force myself to remember stuff, especially stuff that I care NOTHING about really sucks.

My method usually involves me sitting at my desk wearing my noise-canceling headphones (but with no music, as they are merely meant to muffle outside distractions) and me muttering names over and over again.

(ps, don't google this artist and picture if you're pudeish. I'm an art student...nudity comes with the major, so it doesn't bother me, but some people are offended by nude art.)

My studying goes something like this.
Modigliani
Modigliani
Modigliani
Modigliani
Modigliani
Modigliani
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Modigliani, Reclining Nude
Modigliani, Reclining Nude
Modigliani, Reclining Nude
Modigliani, Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
Reclining Nude
1917
1917
1917
1917
1917
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917
Reclining Nude, 1917
Reclining Nude, 1917
Reclining Nude, 1917
Reclining Nude, 1917
Oil on canvas
Oil on canvas
Oil on canvas
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917
Modigliani, Reclining Nude, 1917, Oil on canvas

Repeat 4 times.

Because saying it out loud works better for me, I naturally can't do this in the library or other public places because, well, I'm a really weird looking chick staring at some paper and muttering the same repeating words over and over again.

It freaks people out a little bit.

BUT
This wasn't the 7th reason that I know I've lost my mind.
This was a very very long intro.
Thanks for sticking with me.

No, Reason I Know I've Lost My Mind #7 is because in the middle of studying Utrillo, Church at St.-Hillaire, 1911, oil on cardboard, I started belting out Hello Mother, Hello Father.

"oh," you may think, "that's not so crazy."
Not so. Because it wasn't the normal Hello Mother, Hello Father. It was the version done in a dog commercial a few years back.

Yep. All of a sudden, without warning, my mind abandoned ship for an anti-flea jingle.

Here. See for yourself.

It's adorable, and catchy, and the Reason I Know I've Lost My Mind #7.

WOOOOOOOOAH!

2011-03-17T10:22:00.003-05:00

One of the many gems from my digital art class.

I've been sending my sister doodles and works-in-progress throughout the semester. This one I actually kinda like, but I couldn't help editing it before I sent it off.

WOOOO STILL LIFE!

Happy 20th Birthday to Me

2011-03-02T15:48:00.003-06:00

So I've spent the last week being super sick. Y'know, the usual "No drugs on this Earth will help you feel any better, but go ahead at try anyway" cold.
You know the one.

It finally was too much on Tuesday so I stayed home from class.
Tuesday happened to be my 20th birthday.

I'd been excited for my 20th birthday. The day I would no longer be a teenager! I was more of an adult....more of an adult than when I turned 18, which only made me legally adult. And 19 was merely the year before I would finally be 20. There's just something socially different about being 20.

In my feverish state, lying on my futon, watching old American's Next Top Model episodes and Sponngebob reruns, I knew that this was not exactly how I wanted to remember my birthday.

This was not the "FUCK YEAH I BEAT TEEN PREGNANCY" celebration I had expected.

But as I was lulled into a deliriously happy behind-the-counter-decongestant-coma by the soothing sounds of Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles, I too was comforted by the fact that her birthday wasn't good at first either.

But it got better and I know that mine will too. She had a miserable time with her family, that crazy Chinese guy, and the nerd who guilted her underpants.

But then the hot guy was like "Holy shit, she's a cute chick who secretly loves me. I don't know her but hey, she wants me. And since the girl who I'm dating who already wants me and who I've been fucking for some time now has some personality flaws...I guess...I mean, she does act like she's...a regular irresponsible teenager who likes to drink and fuck but generally hasn't been mean to anyone in particular in this movie. BUT THIS IS THE 80's AND SHE'S POPULAR! THAT MAKES HER A BITCH!"

So then her birthday was awesome. Her family apologized, the nerd got laid and Molly Ringwald got a boyfriend that she didn't really know.

Goddammit, I need a hot guy to kiss me over a birthday cake.

In fact, I will just take the hot guy.

Well, I guess if only the cake is available, I will accept that too.

I'm hungry.

LOOK I DREW A PICTURE IN DIGITAL ART CLASS

I may or may not have still been high on decongestants at the time.

That's all I got.

Bye.

Some Letters

2011-02-19T14:19:00.008-06:00

Dear America's Next Top Model,

Please stop being so addicting. I have so much work to do, but you are like a fashionable train wreck that I cannot look away from.

I woke up today, knowing I was going to load up on coffee and bunker down in the digital art lab.

But then there you were; Tyra's eyes were smizing ("smiling with your eyes" for those not in the know) and goddammit they could see into the darkest regions of my soul.

I then spent the next 7 hours of my life working around you. Lunch? Shit, go eat in the first 20 minutes of the show so as not to miss the photoshoot and elimination. I could stand to miss the challenge just this once.

Shower? Ehh, wet and blow drying my hair during the commercials...that's just enough of an attempt to appear human and to look like I care.

Being clean is for squares and people that have self control.

I also don't like you because you make me feel that, perhaps, I have what it takes to be a model.

So here are my contributions to the world of fashion.

You're welcome.

But still ANTM, I love that you have all day marathons, but I really do have to get some work done...so maybe we should take a break...I think we need some time apar......

OH SHIT THEY'RE GOING TO NEW ZEALAND!!!!!! NEVERMIND!

Love,
Zoe

Dear Paper Writing Sombrero,

Please know that I love you. I appreciate the work you do for me. When it's crunch time, you are always there to help me push through til the deadline.

But I'm afraid that I may need to expand your magic to other kinds of deadlines.

I needed you last semester during my final painting project, but I didn't feel you were up to it.

Is there a magic hat boot camp you could attend?

You see, I have this Digital Art project due, and this ground plan due in Computer Aided Design and Drafting. I need you, paper writing sombrero. Can you help me?

Just look at us.

We're a match made in heaven. We can do this, but we have to do it together.

Love,
Zoe

Dear Secret Life of the American Teenager,

WHY???? DEAR GOD WHY??

WHY ARE YOU COMING BACK FOR YET ANOTHER POORLY AND UNDERACTED AND SHITTY SEASON? YOU LACK CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, AND IN FACT LACK A SINGLE LIKABLE CHARACTER.

GO AWAY.

Love,
Zoe

Awkward Teenage Fashion or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Slutty Underwear

2011-02-09T22:03:00.006-06:00

Today's post has only a few comics, purely because this is really fuckin' long and I am tired.
................

My mother and I have had our fashion disagreements over the years. When I turned 14 and miraculously managed a relatively (though however small) steady income, I immediately started shopping for myself.

To hell with all the hand-me-downs I had survived on. I was a freshman in high school. I'd had my first period, which to me made me practically an adult. I was woman, hear me roar!

Unfortunately, this led to some serious fashion missteps along the way as I tried to figure out my own style for the first time.

I had survived on the fringes of public school society. My awkward years were the stuff of legend. So legendary, I'm not quite sure I've really left them (I am currently wearing my paper writing hat aka a sombrero my roommate tried to foolishly throw away, if that is any indication).

Perhaps I should begin this tale where it began: ELEMENTARY SCHOOL! Actually, I won’t because those stories are for another time, but I will say that I was highly uncool.

But I drifted to the fringes of elementary school society. I began to wear baggier clothes and the 80's hand me downs from my sister began to look more and more odd. I began hanging out with the boys, but soon they discovered that my gangly frame, while it made me fast, did not give me the best of motor skills. This wasn't for a lack of trying.

I participated in all sorts of sports, but any amount of pure dedication I had did not give me any sort of, say, actual ability.

In 5th grade I developed asthma, which then put an real end to my unspectacular athletic career, and began my complete aversion to sports or exercise.

In 6th grade, PUBERTY began, which for me did not include any sort of useful growth, like breasts, a growth spurt, or even my period that would finally make me evolutionary useful to the human species. Nope. My feet however grew 3 sizes. I was 4'8, 100 lbs and wore a size 8. I was uncoordinated to say the least.

My general awkwardness and inability to properly interact with my peers due to an extreme lack of socialization with kids my own age growing up meant I was weird. Really fuckin' weird.

I still wore boys clothes, and my hair was always pulled back into a low ponytail that was as unkempt as it was unflattering. My cousin Kevin supplied all the big t-shirts and awkwardly long shorts as my heart could desire.

Fit? Style? What were these words, I wondered. I had no need for these. I lived in books and video games. Who needed to talk to people? I had my N64 and a fantasy novel about DRAGONS and ELVES.

This social ineptitude unfortunately led to some...troubles. I had raging ADHD. I liked to fly by the seat of pants when around others. Screaming, yelling, getting in fights, and a complete lack of censor led to me getting picked on. A lot. What a lot of people didn't anticipate when picking on the awkward shrimpy kid was the aforementioned ADHD, which allowed me to fly into fits and actually fight back.

And I fought dirty. I went for the balls. I had a hard bottomed lunchbox that made a highly effective and painful weapon that I gleefully turned against my enemies. Down they fell. I emerged the victor many a time.

My middle school was diverse to say the least. When I tell people about the not one, but two cops paid to patrol my school, they don't believe me. But it's true. You didn't mess with Big Red, and Bill would tackle you if you gave the slightest indication of running from him.

Of course, because of my natural talent of getting into fights, the school and my mother didn't believe it was the best place for me.

What was, do you ask?

Catholic school.

I have so many stories about my 2 years in Catholic school that I will save for posts at later times. They are plentiful, terrifying, unbelievable, and they’re all true.

Either way, the one good thing that Catholic school provided was a school uniform. At last, I thought, I don’t have to worry about what I wear!

Wrong. What I didn’t figure out for my entire first year, try as I might, was that no matter the uniform, you could always tell who was cool, and who wasn’t.

My first few months at Catholic school, I made the terrible mistake of wearing the boy’s uniform. I was so used to wearing boys clothes that the thought of the plaid skirt made me cringe. However, it forfeited any possible good first impression I could have made.

These were rich kids. Silver spoon shit. They had the best clothes when out of uniform. They had backpacks that weren’t falling apart, they had their own cellphones and did their hair and makeup before school that was honestly worthy of a Disney channel show.

So in I walked with my poorly fitted boys pants, too big white polo shirt and awkward mess of hair. Also, did I mention my ugly glasses and buck teeth? Yeah, I kid you not.

Evantually, I succame to the skirt, and through careful observation of my peers, I learned to dress better. I was still the weird kid though. The uniform differentiated by coolness. The cool kids didn’t tuck in their shirts like they were supposed to. They had cool shoes, wore nice watches or bracelets. Their hair was perfect.

If you were a girl, your skirt came up to mid thigh. You wore nice, shiney patent leather shoes or nice flats. Your socks were ankle socks, and in the winter, you broke the rules and wore patterned tights instead of solid color. If you were really cool, you didn’t even bother to buy a new skirt since you made the change from jumper to skirt in 5th grade.

My skirt was unhemmed and came down to below my knees until I managed to convince my mom to go an inch above my knee (the highest regulation would allow). I wore calf high socks and boys sneakers. My shirt was used, donated to the school by old graduates and always tucked in. But I finally cut off my long, mangy hair and started caring about my appearance. I got braces to fix my teeth and “lost” my old glasses. By the end of 8th grade, I was definitely distinguishable from the other kids, but had finally learned the valuable lessons about dressing in socially acceptable ways.

However, here is the point I was trying to get to when I started writing this before it took a turn for the nostalgic.

High school.

It was my freshman year, I was an individual goddammit. I made some friends and a majority of my first semester was spend hanging at the mall, where I copied my best friend Meredith’s style and became a mall punk.

I’m pretty sure I wore the same KISS shirt every damn time I went out with my friends. I cut up my catholic school skirt and wore fishnets. I was a hardcore motherfucker and I was cool as hell.

Now of course I look back and laugh. Who was I kidding? I had no idea how to dress myself. I didn’t have a style and just blew all my money on food and stupid too-tight clothes from the TJ Maxx near my house (to make up for my bagginess of middle school of course).

I shudder to think of all the money I spent that year. I bought so many stupid clothes. Once I FINALLY hit real puberty the summer before sophomore year none of those clothes fit anymore. I grew 6 inches, went from barely an A cup to a B, and also got hips. I was faced with a fashion crisis.

My mother didn’t keep quiet throughout all of this. I ignored her comments about my “low cut pants” and my too tight shirts. I was a fucking individual, and full of angst. Who was she to tell me what to wear?

She would yell at me that my pants were too tight, or too low: “YOU CAN PRACTICALLY SEE YOUR PUBES!” despite the solid inch and half between the edge of my waistband and my pubes. [actual conversation, as recorded in my extremely angst filled Xanga journal]

Now I realize that she was mostly right. I finally recovered from my numerous fashion missteps by about the middle of my sophomore year, and though I have generally remained steady by my t-shirts and jeans,

Though we still fight about the waist of my pants and we disagree fully on underwear, though I think a lot of that comes from a disbelief that I am actually an adult and granny panties do not bring the boys to my yard.

Take for example, this conversation I had with my mother while folding laundry, and I mentioned that I needed some more underwear. I wanted some “sexier” underwear. (I put sexier in quotes because by my generation’s stgandards, they are relatively conservative. They are bikini cut Hanes, which are arguably the most comfortable and nicely fitting of all bulk underwear.) She then tried to tell me that she had some for me already as they didn’t fit her. Here’s what went down.

My mother pulls out some of the highest granny panties I have ever seen. I am shocked

Me: “Mom I don’t want your underwear. It’ll come up to here on me. (I gensture to my waist) And that’s just not sexy.”

Mom: “No it won’t. you’re exaggerating.”

Me: (I lay down a pair of my underwear over them. There is a good 4 inches difference)

Me: “See??”

Mom: (Still disbelieving) “No it won’t!”

Me: (frustrated. I know the only way to end this) “Fine, fine, are we gonna play this game? Fine, I’ll play. Gimme the underwear.”

Mom: (clutching the underwear) “Ugh, c’mon”

Me: “No, give it here. (I try it on.)

Me: “Look it comes up to my belly button!”

Mom: “Well yeah if you hike them so high”

Me: “Mom, this is where my crotch ends. I’m not pulling them up. There is just that much fabric. See, if it’s finally sexy time for me and my new boyfriend, I take off my pants, and gets one look at these granny panties, and he’s running for the hills. These are higher than my jeans!”

Mom: (beginning to question herself)….No they’re not.”

Me: “Mom, my jeans come nowhere close to my belly button.”

Mom: “(thinking about how badly I need a boyfriend, and the likelihood that these underpants will not help me in the slightest)….. Fine.”

So I guess what I'm trying to say is:

Then end.

Oooooooooooooooooo drools

2011-01-19T13:37:00.004-06:00

A quick self portrait.
It's uncanny isn't it? And this is actually how I draw when I don't have to draw in shit-ass paint and put in a bit of effort.

So yeah, I'm in a digital art class right now. Like literally right now. I'm early, so I thought I'd post. This is only my second class period...so I haven't figured out how to do things like, change brushstrokes, or the Adobe Illustrator version of the paint bucket.

But look.......Illustrator is so preeeeeeeeeetty!
I think I'm in love.

After years and years of drawing in paint, or drawing by hand, having a shit scanner, then attempting to clean it up in photoshop, Illustrator is like a capability orgasm of awesome.

It will physically hurt to go back to my shitty drawings in paint, but it's all I've got access to.

Also, the Ai logo looks so shitty because I saved it as a CMYK JPEG not a RGB...
Oops, my ignorance is showing...

Just over here, shitting bricks.

2011-01-15T17:07:00.001-06:00

Trying out different art styles because I get bored. *Spoiler alert* They all still suck anyways.

Moving on.

News:

I'll give you a second. Go ahead. Digest that.

Here we go.

Have a nice day.

The Dungeon

2010-11-14T21:23:00.011-06:00

There are times when my own anxieties and paranoid thoughts really, really are inconvenient. Normal anxieties are fine. They tell you that walking alone at night in a bad neighborhood will get you mugged or raped. That’s a legit safety feature of the human mind. But my neuroses help a passing thought of a small danger turn into a full-blown and completely rational fear.

Walking alone at night eating a Snickers bar? Didn't you know that rapists love Snickers bars? RUN BITCH, RUN! THE RAPISTS WANTS YOUR SNICKERS....AND TO RAPE YOU!!

Yeah, my anxieties like to pop out at really irritating moments. Like when I can't enjoy my damn Snicker bar on account of me running as fast as I can back to the safety of my dorm.

So at school, the props and costumes are kept in a series of rooms called “the dungeon” (see map). The dungeon is under the chapel stage that is used for speakers and orchestral concerts. There is no elevator from this underground chamber to the ground floor, which means the unlucky bastards charged with lifting antique desks, beds and other large furniture items have to carry them up stairs that, at the time, never seem to end.

(click to view bigger size)

It also have very inconveniently places light switches (gold dots and numbers). To get to the second room with the kitchen props, I have to run through mostly darkness past a very creepy door that leads to God knows where (I have always been to scared to open it) to hit light switch #3.

That’s where the problem lies. I am TERRIFIED of the dark. That paired with the fact that I believe behind every door, around every corner, in every place that I cannot see is a potential rapist/attacker. (See Matrix Man)

The first time I was in the dungeon alone, I was so scared of running through the dark I called my roommate, who was in the theatre, to come and turn on the light for me. When it came time to turn it off, I flicked it while I was in a ready position and ran like a bat outta hell, slamming the door behind me to keep the rapist/attacker from following me.

The next time, I managed to get halfway down the stairs leading into the second room before chickening out and running back. I searched the props cage and found a cane that could potentially be used to maim an attacker and giving me time to run away. I got almost to the light…but you know how sometimes you can feel that someone’s watching you; that tingle you can feel? Yeah, I suddenly felt that so I turned at ran for it.

I knew there was something evil lurking in the darkness. I mean, how could there not have been, right?

So finally. I managed to face my fears. With the help of a ninja sword. Someone had returned a whole arsenal of weapons to the props cage. Better than a measly cane, a ninja sword has heft. And even though it was dull, I knew it could do some damage to a rapist-attacker.

So there I was, facing the unknown darkness. Raising the sword high, and letting out a battle cry worthy of a Braveheart sequel, I ran into the abyss.

I made it. I had defeated the darkness. I had thwarted the rapist attacker for another day.

But then I heard it.

There was someone else in the dungeon….I knew it. The attacker rapist was able to exist even in the light.

Quickly I picked up the sword. I managed to open the padlock to the kitchen cage as speedily as I could. I could not let my guard down for a second. I knew I needed to get in and get out. The sooner I was out of there, the sooner I’d be safe.

I knew that I needed a set of dinnerware, but I couldn’t carry all those plates and bowls while holding the sword. Those would have to wait until I could get someone down there with me. I needed a pot from the shelves on the right side…which happened to be near a very creepy door that led under the stage. Nothing seemed more frightening than that door at that moment. I was convinced that the darkness attacker was behind that door.
My heart pounding, I formulated a plan.

If he came at me when I let my guard down to get the pot, I would die. So holding the sword in a ready position, I turned to shelf to get the pot.

And I was faced with a figure.

I screamed bloody murder, my voice echoing in the farthest reaches of that cement hellhole. I dropped the sword which landed on my foot. Too terrified to realize the pain in my foot was my fault, I became convince the attacker was stabbing my foot with his rusty shankin' knife. I turned and hauled ass out of the dungeon.

It was only after I got out and was able to calm down that I realized that on the shelf with the pots were toasters. Highly reflective toasters.

Yep. I scared myself shitless with my own damned reflection.

Mortified, I slunk back to the cage, grabbed the pot I needed, picked up the sword, turned tail and ran out, flicking the lightswitch after me.

I did not go back to the dungeon for at least a week. The next time, I managed to get in and out without too much trouble.

However, a week ago, I again was faced with my fear of the dungeon.

When I go down to the dungeon, I am sometimes greeted by the sound of the orchestra rehearsing on the stage above me. Sometimes this is nice. I like having cheerful classical music play while I arrange flower vases or sort out dish sets.

This was not a similar time. When I went down, I was aware that someone was on the stage. I figured it was someone setting up for a show or concert. I could hear them moving chairs and music stands around. This was no problem.

I had just finished my work and had picked up my protection weapon of choice for that day – a huge wooden staff, for I had learned my lesson with the heavy stage ninja sword – and was about to go into my ready stance for when I turned off the light.

I got into a lunge, and just as I flicked off the light, some motherfucker played a blasting, terrifying chord on the huge pipe organ that’s in that building (a leftover from when it served as a chapel).

This Phantom of the Opera-esque dickmove caused me to scream, drop my weapon and run from the room, slamming the door behind me to stop the attacker/ghost from getting me.

Again, once I was able to get my heart rate down from terrifying levels, I was able to feel ashamed of my inability to deal with the dungeon, as well as a deep hatred at whomever had decided that the second I turned off the light was a great time to practice playing the organ.

Okay ladies and gentlemen. That is the end of my shameful experiences in the dungeon so far. I’m sure that more will come soon enough, because my chances at ever becoming less crazy are slim to none.

Have a great evening.

And remember, keep you eyes peeled and your weapons up. Only you can prevent rapist-attacker-phantoms from doing bad things.

Goodnight.

Just Lettin' You Know

2010-10-16T19:38:00.001-05:00

I have this song stuck in my head.
It's been there for 3 days.

Share in my torture.

Please.

Please?

P.s. Real update to come soon. It's a long'un.

Random Moments with my Family (Pt. 2)

2010-09-26T00:30:00.004-05:00

I was gonna change the poster to something else, but I can't use paint with only a touchpad. I'll fix it when I get my mouse back.

Random Moments with my Family (Pt. 1)

2010-08-18T23:58:00.006-05:00

I offer no explanations.

Five minutes of a Spanish Soap Opera

2010-07-29T23:16:00.005-05:00

Some really sexy guy with hair that is so feathered it may just fly away. He sits in a chair and thinks in his head. *super dramatic music in background*
He dramatically looks at the elevator, which some guy has just entered with a girl who looks like Monica from Friends.
Cut to some sort of club.
Sorta manish woman acts super suspicious.
Fat guy walks into club. Manish woman starts speaking to herself.
HOLY SHIT THE WOMAN ACTUALLY IS A DUDE!
Drag queen runs suspiciously out of the club. Followed by other, more obvious guy in drag.
Cut to Chick That Looks Like Monica and Elevator Dude. Short discussion.
Cut back to first guy in drag. He's in a hotel room and speaking more like a dude.
He walks up to a cradle and STARTS TO STEAL A BABY?!?!
Second drag dude walks in, sees first drag queen with the baby.
Both start screaming (second drag guy very dramatically and comically. Totally over-acting). *dramatic music*
Cut to girl with way too much make-up, sitting on a bed, thinking in her head, and fake crying terribly.
Cut to guy with overly feathered hair talking at a bar with Elevator Dude.
*swirly music and flashback to excessively made-up girl saying something sexily in Spanish*
Cut back to guys at the bar, overly feathered hair guys says something very forcefully. Elevator guy looks shocked.
*DRAMATIC MUSIC*
Commercial

I cannot make this stuff up.

But man, I wish I knew Spanish!!

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO THE BABY AND THE DRAG QUEENS!!!

No comics with this one because I cannot even begin to capture the raw awesomeness of this show.

So I’m pretty sure that my body is out to get me.

2010-07-15T14:38:00.013-05:00

I rarely get hurt in normal ways. They’re usually disastrous or at really inconvenient times, or both.

Swine flu on prom night and the last week of my senior year.

Strep throat the day before I was to leave for a big theater conference.

Sprained ankles before big basketball games.

Stomach flu during tech week.

Pulled muscles during tech week.

Popped knee during tech week.

Tendonitis in my ankle the day before opening night.

The flu during opening week.

Finding out I’m allergic to paint after painting half of a set.

(Can you tell I’m in the theater yet?)

Finding out I’m allergic to dogs after working at a vet for 2 years.

Everything pretty much goes like this:

The list goes on. If they aren’t bad, and therefore I can buck up and deal with it, they are enough to make me feel miserable during whatever it is I have to do during the illness.

I finally found some part time work babysitting some families.

So as is my way, I woke up a few Saturdays ago with my foot hurting.

I didn’t think much of it because I thrash in my sleep and sometimes I wake up with some body part totally asleep or sore because I slept on something funny.

After about a half hour of trying to convince my body to get up out of bed even though my mind is still trying to finish the dream I was having about thwarting a Technicolor transformer supervillain made out of kids toys in the Himalayas by using a secret weapon made out of plastic building blocks, I finally got up.

When I finally managed to become conscious enough to rise and greet the day, I realized the pain in my foot hadn’t gone away.

I did the normal tests of bending twisting, poking and quizzing it on world leaders when I realized that something was actually really wrong.

I hoppled around thinking maybe the last little bit of arch I had left in my foot after years of converse had finally given up on me.

Logically, I put some arch supports in my shoes and walked around trying to work out the arch. After a day of that not working and my foot hurting more, I did some internet research.

A doctors appointment and some x-rays confirmed what I found on the internet.

PLANTAR FACIITIS!

"Plantar fasciitis is a painful inflammatory process of the plantar fascia. The plantar fascia is a thick fibrous band of connective tissue originating on the bottom surface of the calcaneus (heel bone) and extending along the sole of the foot towards the five toes." (THANKS WIKIPEDIA!)

But in layman's terms, it's this:

But I still had to go babysitting.

One family lives on one of those death streets in which the whole block is made of three floor apartment buildings and finding parking is a real bitch. There’s never any places to park in a three block radius (5 block radius if it’s a street cleaning day). And on street cleaning day, ugh forget it.

So, I happened to have hurt my foot on a street cleaning day! I finally found a place to park…. 6 blocks away. And because I’m retarded, I didn’t bring my crutches because my foot had been feeling better and I had been walking around my house.

Hobbling around the house is very different from a 6 block walk. It was pretty terrible. But I finally made it and after kids who didn't want to eat or do anythign but whine and complain, I hobbled the 6 blocks back and went home.

Then, after hobbling around on crutches for 3 days, I woke up one morning to terrible back pain. I ended up trapped on the couch, unable to move, breathe deeply, or blink without pain searing through my chest and back. Then, as is the way that things go, I really needed to pee.

I called my mom, not knowing what to do and she came home from work and gave me some of her vicodin and muscle relaxers from when she had surgery on her intestines.

My back felt better after about an hour and I could finally go urinate to my heart's content.

For the next few days, I couldn’t use the crutches because my back, arms and chest hurt from using them. Then my foot started to really hurt from being on it. So basically I was in a clusterfuck of fail and pain for about a week before I was able to move without my back or foot hurting.

And through all of this, I had to continue to chase after various 2 year olds (one of which only speaks Dutch, and two are twins).

Then, for the first time ever, it wasn’t me who got tremendously sick, but a little 5 year old girl I was sitting.

Last week I arrive to her lying on the floor of the living room, the perfect vision of childlike feverish misery. The dad had to go to work, and after he left, I convinced her to drink a little water.

I asked if she’s like me to read to her, and with the most heartbreaking pathetic nod, I picked her up to take her to her bed.

She started making odd gurgles, but I though maybe she was just hiccupping.

ATTENTION: IF THE CHILD IS SICK, IT IS NOT A HICCUP.

As I laid her down she looked up at me…

And then threw up all over her bed, herself and the pillow.

I quickly sat her up because the girl had no strength whatsoever.

And then she projectile vomited all over me.

I buried my disgust and half walked, half carried her to the bathroom (along the way she continued to drool/throw up more).

I finally got her over the toilet and she immediatly acted like she had never had to throw up into a toilet before. She just stood next to it, completely confused and still vomiting.

I forced her head over the toilet, and quickly realized she didn’t know what to do. There was a step stool right next to her for the sink and I had he sit on it, and I rubbed her back, telling her everything was okay, and to just get it all up and out and other soothing type words.

I ran and got her water and instructed her to rinse out her mouth and use the toilet paper to wipe her face off.

She needed a new nightgown, and after a frustrating few minutes, I finally found one, cleaned her off with a wash cloth, switched out her nightgown and she staggered into her parents’ bed.

Then I was left with the terrible aftermath; cleaning the toilet, bathroom floor, hallway floor, bedroom floor, bed, sheets and pillow. And myself of course, but I was last in line.

After getting her a spit up bowl, I cleaned with grim determination, checking in on her as I worked. After that was done, I called her parents, but neither of them could make it home. I had to finish my shift. Luckily the girl fell asleep immediately.

Then her 2 year old brother woke up from his nap.

So I had to feed him, change him, and then prevent him from waking her up. When she woke up on her own, she wanted me to sit with her and read to her, all the time keeping her younger brother from hurting her and himself, as well as being still gross because I did not have another shirt.

This was the first time I’d even been inconveniently catastrophically sicked ON, as opposed to sick myself.

I don’t like either option.

X-TREME Get Healthy Challenge! (DAY 22)

2010-07-05T20:28:00.004-05:00

I haven't lost any weight.

I've actually gotten fatter in my waist and hips.

This one time I heard my neighbors having sex.

2010-06-19T13:26:00.003-05:00

It was awkward.

The end.

Just kidding.

College story time: I was woken up at 5am to a dark and quiet room.

The ambient noise of the fan was gone, the glow of roommate’s alarm clock was gone: the power was out.

I quickly was able to discover that the outside was still lit, so it was just my room. A fuse had been blown, but by no fault of my own. I had only two things plugged in and on.

Then I became aware of the horrible act that had woken me up: the sound of a bed squeaking.

At that hour, I was too half asleep to really come to grips with what I was hearing. Once I was awake enough, I began to deduce what was happening.

But oh, the squeaking…over and over again, too regular and paced to be merely someone rolling over.

Then it hit me. Someone in the room next door was having sex. Loud, squeaky, annoying, 5 in the morning sex.

Unsure at first of what was going on in the room that I shared a wall with (I had never heard dorm sex before) I felt it was rude to pass judgment too quickly. The squeaking continued.

The poor soul on top had no vigor. 15-25 seconds of squeaking then 5-10 seconds of silence. They were taking a lot of breathers.

After about 20 minutes I thought I was gonna go crazy.

I was actually too embarrassed to bang on the wall. I am too socially retarded to even interrupt something that was keeping me awake during the pre-dawn hours.

This was especially uncomfortable because I had a class with the girl. I knew that if I banged on the wall, she would know that I heard her having sex at 5 in the morning and then in class we wouldn’t be able to look at each other and then everything would be a huge pot of awkward and then the world would implode. Obviously.

I mean, they were obviously trying to be considerate by having sex at 5am so as to not disturb anyone during awake hours.

But I had woken up, which is odd considering I’m usually a deep sleeper. And I had to lay there, unable to go to sleep for a good half an hour listening to their awkward sex.

Then the moaning began.

It only lasted a couple minutes, and the muffled voice was too long to be merely words, but the wall drowned out any decipherable ability to hear them. The long sound and the squeaking finally stopped.

I found myself, for a grueling 45 minutes, at 5 in the morning, forced to listen to sex.

I had no power, I couldn't drown out their noises with the radio or my laptop. My ipod that had been charging wasn't charged because the power had obviously gone out shortly after I'd plugged it in. I was helpless.

Next time, I must have a plan.

Or simply the confidence and courage to bang on the wall.

P.s.
Yes, my sheets are dinosaur sheets. I’m sure you all knew that by the obviously dinosaur shaped blobs in the picture. But I thought I’d clarify for those of you who maybe don’t have perfect vision.

X-TREME Get Healthy Challenge!

2010-06-16T17:43:00.005-05:00

I finally decided that my lazy fat ass has gotten too fat.

I've been avoiding really cracking down on my terrible eating habits and complete aversion to all activities that are remotely related to exercise.

If it requires strenuous muscle use, I'm gone faster than the cake I baked yesterday.

So I joined sparkpeople.com and they're totally rad. They're free (big hell yes to that) and they allow me to track my food intake, and make suggestions as to how much exercise I should be getting.

I decided that I should chronicle my probably pathetic attempt at getting healthy. Here are some of my thoughts as I go through my healthy adventure all lumped together for your convenience. I am too tired to illustrate. Deal with it.

Enjoy.

Day One:
-I'M HUNGRY!!!
-I have no upperbody or core strength.
-I miss bread already.
-OWWWW MY NON-EXISTENT MUSCLES!

Day Two:
-Celery is hereby known as devil sticks.
-WAIT, THERE'S HOW MANY CALORIES ARE IN PEANUT BUTTER? 180?? NOOOOOOOOOOOO! HOW WILL I MAKE THE DEVIL STICKS DELICIOUS NOW?
-Maybe if I salt and really toast a tortilla until it's crunchy, maybe I can pretend it's chips.
-Nope. It's nothing like potato chips.
-Drinking milk makes me want cookies.
-My ass hurts from that frickin' stationary bike.

Day Three:
-I think I'm going through bread withdrawal. All I want to do is curl up in a bread brothel and eat some warm loaves of delicious empty carbohydrates.
-Biking home from work and having a car of boys yell "Keep biking, fatty" isn't as motivating as they meant it to be. I would normally fix this with ice cream, but I can't. Maybe a handful of cheerios...?
-Cheerios do not bring cheer. The name is a lie. I terrible, cardboard tasting lie.

Matrix man, Matrix man, does whatever a rapist can.

2010-06-10T17:49:00.009-05:00

OOoooooohhhhhh mannnnnnnnn!!!!

Never, and I mean never, ever listen to The Matrix soundtrack when you're alone in the house.

I can deal with Marilyn Manson and The Propellerheads. I'm talking about the instrumental stuff composed for the movie.

SPOOKY ASS SHIT!!!
DO NOT DO IT!!

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Especially not people like me who like to imagine that there are serial killers lurking behind everything waiting to kill me, rape me, then use my skin to make a canoe.

Why a canoe, I don’t know!? I’m not a freakin’ serial killer! I do not know their ways! But I would not make a good canoe!

I guess I should explain something real quick. I have a really bad anxiety disorder. The slightest passing thought that I may have a minor chance at being murdered is enough to cause a panic attack and make me certain that it’s about to happen so I’ll lock all the doors and hide in my room because the little voice inside my head is screaming “you’re gonna die…”.

My anxiety also causes an obscene amount of adrenalin to enter my bloodstream when I’m scared or nervous. This will sometimes lead to embarrassing situations where I’ll pass out from my heart beating too quickly or lose control of my limbs at inconvenient times.

Trust me, it’s hilarious. These situations are another story for another day.

Back to the Matrix rapist: This was all especially terrifying because I was listening to my iPod.

It might not have been as bad if I had been listening to it on a stereo, but an iPod covers up any and all other noises.

This makes it impossible to try to listen for a potential attacker. Especially if that attacker was being a sneaky bastard.

So here I am, being completely freaked out by everything around me.

At one point the suspenseful music suddenly went like “DUN BLAM!!” and I flipped the shit out screamed and then, while trying to run away from whatever was about to kill me and use my skin to make a water craft, I smacked my head into a wall.

I then of course thought a rapist had hit me instead of a wall so I crawled into the corner and tried to protect myself.

It was then that my adrenaline level was so high that I lost all ability to think logically.

Now, a normal person would have thought TO TAKE THE IPOD HEADPHONES OUT but you see, when a rapist killer is following you through an empty house to the soundtrack from the Matrix, all bets are off.

Then everything went kind of hazy…I don’t remember how I got to my room after that but I guess I managed to crawl up the stairs and hide under my covers shaking like one of those irritating small yappy dogs that would not survive in the wild because they could easily be picked up by hawks or other predators.

My adrenalin level was still pretty high at this point and I was so convinced that my fear was founded so I turned on every light despite it only being like 6pm and continued to hide in my room until my family came home.

YAY FOR STORIES

Alright homedogs, I’m outie
….like a belly button.

That was totally necessary.

So remember kids:
The Matrix = Terrible sequels and terrible rapist friendly soundtracks!

Fo' Serious

2010-06-04T12:54:00.002-05:00

I got nothing else for y'all.

I'm also too lazy to fix the typo.

...

...

...

...is there any more coffee?

Sleep deprivation

2010-05-19T14:52:00.001-05:00

This is what comes of my insomnia.

Drawn at 4am:

Question

2010-05-18T17:40:00.003-05:00

I've been wanting to find out what those lines are called in sound recordings. The internet has utterly failed me for the first time.

So I decided to ask one of my friends who's head of sound at my school. I figured he would probably know as it is his job.

But I was asking on facebook, and figured he might not understand what I was talking about if I just tried to ask him about "all those lines that are all in a line and the little red line goes over them and makes noises".

So I drew him a diagram...which kind of got out of hand.

Hopefully he will respond with the answer swiftly.

Gorilla man, AWAY!

2010-05-16T13:05:00.005-05:00

So this one time I was just studying, minding my own business. My door was slightly ajar because I had recently come back to the room and hadn’t closed it all the way and was too lazy to go close it after I realized the little tabby thing hadn’t gone into its hole.

I start doing random internetting (yes, it's a word) and I hear some voices outside my door that sound like some random guys, but since I live on the main floor, I didn't think much of it.

Then someone pounded on the door really hard which caused it to swing open. Now, people hit or knock on the door while they're walking down the hallway all the time, which is really annoying, but I'm used to it.

So then I go to close the door and I hear some odd noises out of my sight. I right away suspect that hi-jinks are afoot, so I immediately tense up, and start to back up slightly and turn my body to protect myself.

Suddenly some guy in a fucking GORILLA SUIT jumps in front of me.

He yells loudly, making a sort of grunting scream and generally tries to sound like a gorilla and pounds his chest like a small version on King Kong. A Prince Kong if you will.

My heart leaps and I go into survival mode. All the rational that I have as an evolved, thoughtful being goes out the window. Fight or flight baby!

So of course, my reaction is to roundhouse kick him in the gut. Hard.

He falls back, stepping about 4 feet away. He grunts and clutches his stomach and he and his friends start to run away.

I then yelled "Get out of here, you asshole!" very maturely, and he and his friends sprint down the hallway, giggling with glee.

The man in the costume is running funny, clutching his stomach, and looks like some baby animal that’s trying to learn how to use its legs for the first time.

I feel victorious. Roommate is slightly stunned about the recent events, sitting at her desk looking like, well, looking like she'd just witnessed me Chuck Norris a guy in a gorilla suit.

Apparently these guys had gone around campus and knocking on random rooms in all of the dorms. Facebook was atwitter with gorilla sightings.

I don't feel bad about it. I mean, after all, this strange person did just break in and try to scare me.

But I had protected my domain. I felt like I could take on the whole friggin' world. Well maybe not Canada. They can come hang out in my room anytime. They're pretty chill and awesome in my book.

But it has made me think...

College is odd place.

"Things That are Cold for 400, Alex!"

2010-05-10T10:13:00.007-05:00

Because it is now summer, I will post a post I wrote a while back but never got around to illustrating because I am lazy.

Enjoy:

I need to stop watching Jeopardy at night.

But there is nothing else on at 3 in the morning and I don’t like to watch infomercials because I firmly believe that that is how they convince you that you need this atomic knife set made with real kryptonite and baby tears or else my life will be over.

And then they show how if I don’t buy it, I will be so flustered I will cut myself, squish the tomato and be generally a failure in everything.

The idea that commercials are playing while I sleep fills me with fear.

So I have taken to watching the game show network at night.

We do have the sleep function on the tv, but I do not.

My insomnia makes me feel like I am being injected with crack that prevents me from being able to stop moving in bed or even shutting ng my eyes for more than 10 seconds and my anxiety makes me afraid of everything so I just lie awake in the dark listening to roommate snore.

When I do finally fall asleep at like 3 or 4am, I forget to turn on the sleep function so roommate will wake up at about 5 from the noise and turn it off.

But one of the downsides to my insomnia is that when I’m sleep deprived, I talk in my sleep. I normally sleep soundly, but when I’m awake until 4, all bets are off. My body may be asleep, but my mind isn’t, and neither is my mouth.

And when I fall asleep watching game shows, it’s what I dream about. I never remember my dreams when I sleep talk, but roommate sometimes clues me in.

Apparently I sometimes sleep-talk answers to the game shows.

Most of the time it’s nonsense or slurred gibberish, but sometimes I do make full sentences.

WAIT, WHAT IF MY CONVERSATIONS WITH ROOMMATE WERE A DREAM!?

PERHAPS THE MATRIX IS REAL!?

That aside, now that I am home for the summer, I am going to sleep at a reasonable hour and my insomnia is under control.

But if I am still sleep-talking I have no idea what I say, and that kind of worries me.

It's a Thursday.

2010-05-06T20:14:00.003-05:00

There are times when boredom takes over...

Times where you just need to break out the velociraptor impression.

It's not pretty.

I'm that bored.

Yep.

I bet Sweden is laughing at me right now.

2010-04-30T00:00:00.006-05:00

So as everyone who has ever met me knows, I am socially retarded. Not like, haha, she’s so awkward and cute, but legit -- “ohmygod why are people looking at me please don’t look at me oh jesus they’re talking to me what should I say oh was that a question i don’t know what to do now quick change the subject!!”
“I like whales.” Shit. -- retarded.

I am completely incapable of talking to people that I don’t know. I’m not the kind of person that can be all giggly and interesting and immediately charm someone without any basis for conversation.

Ask me about the homework and I’ll talk to you, or if I need to deal with you for a project, sure fine, we can talk. But I just cannot go up to people and start conversation without having any reason to do so, especially if I have reason to be intimidated by them (like if they’re pretty, older than me, or taller than me).

Now the reason for me telling you about my social ineptness is quite a funny story. At my college we had two Swedish exchange students come for a semester. Now, this would normally be no different from the French or German guys, but the fact that they were from Sweden is important.

See, my great-grandparents came from Sweden, and recently my family has been getting into our heritage. We went and visited Sweden last summer as a family and saw the farm my great-grandfather was from. And in usual American fashion, I’m obsessed with my ancestry.

I’m trying to learn Swedish, and am interested in cooking Swedish dishes. You could say that I’m kind of grasping at cultural straws, because yes, I’m like only an 1/8th Swedish, but it’s the biggest percentage I’ve got in me, and all my friends are more connected to their heritages than my family is.

Anywho, when I found out that Swedish people were going to be walking the campus, I was understandably excited. “Finally, a chance to connect with more Swedish people!” I thought.

But then they came.

One was TALL. Like scary tall. And his hair was kind of like a windswept anti-mullet, you know, like business on the side, party on top. He didn’t talk much but he was still scary.

The other one looked like one of those guys that’s attractive, and knows it. So he looks like he never bathes, dresses like a hobo and still managed to fuck every chick on campus that would let him. I hate guys like that.

I was kinda intimidated and because they knew that because they were foreign and hot they knew that girls would be coming onto them and I didn’t want them to get that idea.

Now, a normal person would then just go into the conversation and act normally and express the fact that they were Swedish and interested in being friends and to learn more about the culture.

But I am socially retarded, and was too scared to talk to them and knew that if I did I would suddenly freeze and come off as a creepy fangirl and be like this:

So I hid all my Swedish t-shirts, my blanket and everything else I got in Sweden all semester.

I was days away from going all semester without an embarrassing international incident. But then I made the mistake of telling my friend Rachel about my social ineptness.

Never tell your really outgoing friend who’s also socially retarded but retarded in a way that makes her seem fun and outgoing that you’re too scared to talk to the Swedish guys who are sitting at the next fucking table.

Because then she will go over to them and say:

“Hi, my friend is really shy…” (Which makes it seem like Rachel was trying to set me up with one of them but I was too shy to do it myself. BAD IDEA IF YOU WERE TRYING TO AVOID THIS.)

She continues: “but she was wondering where you were from.” (It is at this point I turned BRIGHT red and was like, “bitch!”)

Hot/slutty Swedish guy: “We’re from Sweden.”

Rachel (because I am too embarrassed to even speak for myself at this point): “Yeah, we know that but where in Sweden?”

Hot/slutty Swedish guy (Misunderstanding Rachel and is now looking at me directly and I am too paralyzed with fear to do anything): “Well, Sweden is a country in northern Europe….” (I’m sure at this point he thinks that I am not only socially handicapped, but mentally handicapped as well)

I then, still completely frozen with fear managed to pull myself together enough to stammer out that I knew where Sweden was….but then stopped talking because I knew that I was seriously about to die.

Rachel then tried to come to my defense and told them that I was from Sweden. They then looked at me really weird, as if to say, is this retarded chick really from our home country?

To try to cover my really embarrassed ass, and to make myself look less desperate and more Swedish and cool, I told them that my grandparents were from there and told them the town where my great-grandparents were from.

They bought my half-lie and said cool.

It was a conversation dismissal and I know them when I hear them.

My face was hot and I thought I was going to throw up. When my friend finally got back to sit next to me I exploded, quietly because the Swedes were still at the next table, and was so mad at her I couldn’t see straight.

I was so mad that she’d made me look so stupid and creepy through no obvious fault of my own and how she’d single handedly made me the laughingstock of all of Sweden because those guys would definitely go back to Sweden and tell all their buddies about the crazy desperate chick who has her friends tell them that she is super Swedish and also wants to jump their bones.

She felt really bad, as she should, but I was so mad and embarrassed that I didn’t care. It was only after she didn’t talk for about 5 minutes that I realized that she really was upset that she’d done that to me.

She offered to go talk to them again and explain that I wasn’t socially retarded but was embarrassed to talk to them because I didn’t want to come off as an idiot fangirl, which of course would only makes things worse and make me seem more socially retarded because I even need a friend to apologize for me.

It’s like trying to get your mom to write you a note so your drill sergeant will go easier on you in the army. It will do no good and only make things worse. Duh.

After leaving the cafeteria, we walked back to her room, and who else is in the elevator but the slutty Swede’s girlfriend.

And what does Rachel do? Tell the girlfriend about my utter shameful conversation of course! The girlfriend tries to console me and even offers to talk to the Swedes for me and apologize for my retardedness.

Why do people think that would help? Am I just stupid or would that really not make everything worse?

Either way, I have now spent the last day hiding from the Swedish guys for fear that they will laugh at me, or worse try to talk to me. Eeek. I hope they go home soon.

P.s.
I don't know how many times I said "socially retarded" but I bet it's a lot. I can't think of any other way to phrase it, and I'm sorry if some people have a problem with the word "retarded". I would never refer to a mentally handicapped person in that way, so yeah, I'm not a bad person I swear!

Hrmmmm

2010-04-25T13:28:00.006-05:00

Note to self:

Two bottles of lemonade and half a bag of Hershey's Kisses does not equal breakfast.

Seriously.

P.s.
That is the closest I think I will get to portraying my hair.

I made the mistake of deciding that for Halloween, I would go hardcore (since it is my favorite holiday and all). I went as Abby from NCIS and decided that buying a wig was for pussies so I dyed my dark blond hair black.
A lot of people said it looked really good, but because I didn't leave my house that summer because I decided being agoraphobic was fun, I was super pale and I looked like someone out of Twilight. Never a compliment, not matter who says it.

Also, NEVER believe it when a bottle says semi-permanent. Because what that means is it's only permanent until it grows out. It will not fade at all no matter what special shampoo you buy or how many times you wash it. And then it will look more retarded than ever.

So I waited and it grew out, and I had my hairdresser strip my hair and now it's this odd red brown color. Then that grew out so now I have this tri-tiered hair color.

Moral of the story: Don't dye your hair black if you don't want to have to deal with the repercussions for at least 10 months.
Seriously.

P.p.s.
Eating 4 handfuls of Cheese Nips will not settle an upset stomach as much as you'd think it would.

In fact, it will probably make it worse.

Math wants to kill us all!!

2010-04-24T15:42:00.002-05:00

Most math teachers hand-write the worksheets they give out since math is terrible when you try to type it. But those damn silly teachers don’t think about changing the variable when they copy them out of the book.

So why is that math book writers always feel the need to write equations that involve 5s and have S as the variable? Or 2s and Zs? Would it kill you to make it an 8? or a 7? Can’t you use X as the variable? It's a classic variable.

What about E? E is never used. Why do you hate the letter E? What did E every do to you besides maybe that one time in college when you were out drinking at a bar and your buddy gave you this pill that would apparently help you score with that hot chick who kept looking at you? E should be used as a variable. It can’t be easily confused with any number, besides 3, but I think if you’ve made it to a math class that uses variables, you should know what a 3 looks like by now.

Do teachers like making us pull our hair out when we get the wrong limit because we thought the S was a 5 and the 5 was an S? Or when that 7 was a 1?

It’s like they want us to fuck up. I once failed three questions on one trig quiz because I could not read his handwriting! And when we asked, he’d get all offended like we were making fun of his whole personality, which of course we’d never do, because we’d only do that outside of class, far far away from his room.

Are they Ss? 5s? Zs? 2s? YOU WILL NEVER KNOOOOW

And why do you use you're most illegible handwriting for that one equation with similar numbers and letters? Would it kill you to at least make an effort to distinguish the two?

If you think I’m exaggerating, take a look at your high school math book. It’s a plot to fail students! A plot, I tell you!

ARGH!

Thou doth tempt me, devil.

2010-04-22T11:07:00.004-05:00

So, I found out that reading a blog about delicious, bad for you foods is possible the worst possible thing, aside from AIDS and world hungar and war...and I guess a lot of things.... but it is the worst thing for me to do while trying to eat healthier.

My roommate returned with my $4 chocolate and I sat in my bed, minding my own business, silently shoving chocolates into my mouth, feeling worse and worse about myself until I fell asleep. I awoke this morning surrounded by wrappers like they were dead bodies on a delicious battlefield.

My mom and I went to costco and bought a huge box of weight loss shakes that are supposed to be eaten instead of a meal, and since the caf usually likes to tempt me with waffles and bacon....oh delicious bacon....I've taken to drinking one instead of going to breakfast.

Now, let me just say that they are "chocolate" flavored. I mean, if I have to eat healthier, I might as well do in in a way that satisfies my need to live in chocolate.

But these shakes are chocolate LIES. They taste nothing like chocolate, and for the first 20 or so shakes, they made me gag so hard. The texture and aftertaste was like trying to down cold medicine mixed with mustard that was made to taste like dollar store chocolate, but they failed so hard they should be in a fail museum. Now I'm used to the taste, and it's like my taste buds are numb to this poor excuse for chocolate.

Now, since my classes don't start until 12:30 today, I was trolling the internet, as I usually do, and I found this amazing blog called http://www.omnomicon.com/. Oh my jeezus everything she does looks so delicious, I just want to wrap myself in her creations, as odd as that sounds....whatever, go away and leave me to swim in her cooking.

SO here I am, dressed in my finest sweats, drinking a nasty chocolate thingy that's supposed to be healthy, and oggling pictures of pancakes and cookies.

It is possibly one of the worst ideas I've had, other than that one time I decided that cutting my own bangs at the age of 5 was a fantastic idea.

Guh....so hungryyyyyyyyy.

Problem.

2010-04-21T19:48:00.004-05:00

You know how some people go through withdraw from drugs and they are twitching on the floor crying out for the drugs? That's like me, but with chocolate. And with the Easter season officially over, I have nothing to cheaply feed my habit.
I spent two glorious weeks sitting in a corner like Smeagol shoving chocolate into my mouth, grinning at my delicious horde.

You know it's bad when you give your roommate your last 4 dollars that you were going to use to buy food to get you your fix.

Me: WAIT!

Roommate: What?

Me: here's 4 dollars...use it to get the most chocolate you can get for that amount. Even if you have to shank the clerk to get a good deal. *crouches in chair grinning like a maniac*

Roommate: Okay.

Yes. I am sitting, eagerly awaiting my great bounty.
Or as big as a bounty as a person can get for $4.
I cannot wait.

2009-11-27T12:38:00.001-06:00

I promise I will update but I have no scanner and I'm not allowed in the graphics lab at school unless I take a class.
I'm signed up for one in the near future, so I'll try to start doing this again.

My dedication is just so great, isn't it?

Nobody loves pulp...

2009-03-31T18:51:00.001-05:00

If only Hermione would be in my class.

2009-02-06T23:01:00.004-06:00

This is a daily problem for me.

But the upside is that you can easily tell who the cool people are because they just nod and agree and completely understand what I'm talking about and don't even realize that we've just silently agreed that Harry Potter is totally awesome.

Exam Week

2009-01-24T14:49:00.000-06:00

A "How To" Guide to Batman

2009-01-18T13:31:00.007-06:00

click for much larger view.
sorry, I always make them too big. Wallpaper size! XD

How did my vase get broken?!

2009-01-11T16:23:00.001-06:00

I got this very nice font that I will occasionally be using when I'm having one of those "Wow, my handwriting really sucks" kinds of days.

2 Inches of snow, OH NOES!!

2008-12-24T13:22:00.004-06:00

Shut up stupid people.
*bundles up more than previously thought possible*

PSA: Would /you/ trust this person?

2008-12-20T13:43:00.002-06:00

Ouch...

2008-12-18T11:40:00.002-06:00

We have finally reached this point in my astronomy class.

It hurtsssss my braiiiiinnnnnn......

Not worth 10 bucks. Not even worth a dollar.

2008-12-14T14:35:00.003-06:00

Hope it NEVER comes out on DVD.

If only textbooks worked this way

2008-12-11T22:22:00.002-06:00

If I had a nickel.

2008-12-10T18:52:00.003-06:00

Watching people do it?
You're a mega creeper.

Your. You're. There. Their. They're.

2008-12-08T18:00:00.005-06:00

It's really not that difficult.

Gravitational Forces Between Stars

2008-12-06T14:12:00.002-06:00

We learned in Astronomy how if red giant star is close to a white dwarf in space, the gravitational forces are so great, the red giant will "eat" the white dwarf.

One of my fears.

2008-12-03T20:00:00.001-06:00

Pirating music is fun!

2008-12-01T19:41:00.002-06:00

17 Kids and Counting makes me cry.

2008-11-30T17:47:00.004-06:00

clicking to view the picture may help you to view properly.

I'm waiting for the day that I see this commercial

2008-11-29T11:51:00.001-06:00

I sometimes wonder if it's worth it.

2008-11-28T12:58:00.005-06:00

Three hours cleaning up food.
What is wrong with our gluttonous traditions. We need to adopt some fasting traditions. Fo' serious, America.

Chip

2008-11-28T12:19:00.001-06:00

Attention Idiots

2008-11-27T16:04:00.005-06:00