Guest Post: Wh*res and Chihuahua

Sorry for the absence, I've been busy to the max! SO much so that I didn't even write this post.

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the coolest one in my family. Well, neither is my younger sister, but she is funnier than me. And didn't you know it but her small baby hands can write too? With the same hilariousness and same terrible grammar. 

Here's one of her lovely stories about her life as a band geek that you should enjoy because I said so.

The 3 choices we had for our 2013 band trip location, New York, Washington dc, and Los Angeles. The high school and the incoming middle school band kids were given slips to vote where the wanted to go. I would have thought that the other two wouldn’t stand a chance against the big apple, but I was very mistaken. LA won under the impression that we would be hitting up them beaches, which was exactly what we didn’t do. Anyway, a couple months into 2013 it was time to set out on our week long vacation.

We arrived in LA and were driven to our hotel in our fancy busses, The Embassy Suites. Next to the Ritz, that is probably the best hotel I’ve ever stayed at. The inside had balconies surrounding all four walls, and was a beautiful indoor pond thingy. The girls were stationed on the fourth floor, and the boys were on the third. A little after we arrived, a high school choir checked in. 

They were the mostly boys in the choir, and were no doubt the most attractive boys in the universe.  They were posted just out of our reach, on the magical floor five. Anyway, we had a blast going around LA, living it up! We visited Hollywood museums, went to a Broadway play, took a dinner cruise, etc. It was probably the most fun anyone can legally have, until, one particular night in the hotel.

Apparently a fraternity had booked the ballroom in the hotel for an awesome party. ‘Awesome’ only pertained to their side, for the rest of us human beings, it was awful. The (insert college of choice) students were literally a riot. They girls, were dressed like they were supposed to be working the corner that night, and I’m a billion percent sure everyone was drunk. It was quite a display for both the college and high school boys. 

In an attempt to resolve the situation before them, our director tried to get us as far away for the drama as possible. As the night progressed, the party got more intense and the stress levels of every adult in the hotel, was through the roof. The hotel staff warned the party animals that if they kept at the rate they were at, they would be forced to shut the party down. However, sensing that they wouldn't comply with these regulations, our band directors took it into their own hands to call up the coppers and shut them down.

Taking refuse on the fourth floor balconies, the vastly growing viewing party and I watched in amazement as the college students were being escorted out by the cops. I would have thought surely no one was that ignorant to get their self thrown out of a respectable establishment, but hey. Nevertheless, we sat with bags of popcorn and candy as all the events transpired. It all was starting to clear up, the party had officially been terminated but then, all of a sudden my fellow onlookers and I heard a bark.

I really wish this story was made up but I assure, you it isn't  Now this respectable hotel I can assure you has a no pet’s rule, which is why it was such an odd thing to hear barking. We looked of the edge of the balcony, to see a Chihuahua peeking out of the bars from the third floor. Worried about the safety and well being of the dog, a handful of us rushed to the elevator. When we arrived, the dog seemed to be in a panicked state (not uncommon for a Chihuahua, but still). Our attempts of capturing the dog were very unsuccessful, as his speed was surprising. A lady emerged from her room and I tried to ask her if she knew the origins of the animal, and to be honest, I don’t think she actually spoke English judging by the way she looked at me. She retreated back into her room without a word, and I resumed trying to capture the pup. After about 3 minutes, the lady opened her door and the dog ran inside, leaving us all very confused. However, that was one problem solved, and there were still many more left to be deciphered.

Most of the college students were cleared out as the pup search and rescue team and I got back to our seats near the balcony. People still crowed around chatting and snacking, while we watched a college couple fighting with one of the hotel staff about being able to go up the elevator. Obviously, they didn't have a room here and were just trying to get away from the cops. Thinking the matter had been resolved; the staff member moved on to shoo others out of the hotel. While backs were turned, the couple got into the elevator (which was glass so we could all see them) and they went up to the top floor, and there they continued on to a secluded nook. I for one found this to be particularly peculiar, seeming as though they were up there for quite some time. That is until a cop went up there after about 20 minutes, and from where we stood, he had a pretty stern talking to them before they came back down and left.

 I don’t know if you have ever been kicked out of an establishment, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to actually leave the premises. Unfortunately the college party animals and I don’t share this universal understanding, as they started the after party in the parking lot. One of the boys on the third floor informed us that we could watch it out of the floor to ceiling window that was at the end of the hall on our floor. We gathered against the glass and saw very many unpleasant sites. 

One of these was a group of student in a circle smoking what I hope was a cigarette, but judging by all the crazy they had already cooked up, it was probably something illegal. Another thing we saw was a boy and girl chatting it up, when along came another girl who did not seem to like girl Number 1. She slapped Number 1 and stormed off, leaving the boy looking very confused. Number 2 went off to a group of girls and seemed to be boasting  to them about what had just transpired. Number 1 cried as the boy awkwardly comforted her. Out of nowhere the couple looked up at the hotel, or more precisely, the third floor window.

 All of our ninja modes were activated at that point, as we all scattered to the shadows. Maybe we had all just imagined that they saw us, I mean there no way they could have noticed 13 teenage girls smashed up against a window watching them. When we felt it was safe to resume our watch, we glanced over to see number 1 standing with arms folding looking directly at us. Convinced they would somehow threaten our lives, the viewing party and I decided to retire to our respective rooms for some much needed sleep. It had been a long day full of site-seeing, partying, cops, and escaped pets.

Great Moments in Undatable History Part 1

As I continue to repeat myself, I am not well versed in the ways of romance and what not. A few years ago, I did claim to have "fixed relationshipping for guys" with no female edition to counter it because, let's face it, I haven't even fixed it for myself yet.

I think I have only been on one legit dating experience, in which it was deemed a date because we used a coupon that said the SUPER DATE DEAL. Apparently I take my direction from crafty advertisement. Besides that, it was a good date, I mean, there was ICE CREAM for cryin' out loud!

For all my inexperience in relationship-ness, I do tend to fall ass-backwards into situations where at least one party thinks there is romantic potential. And to much surprise, that person is only sometimes me.

Here is a collection of instances when someone was under the impression that I was emotionally mature enough to sustain a short to medium term relationship, followed by an unbiased analysis.

* As I wrote this I realized that its length exceeded even my own period of interest, so I broke it into parts. YAY PARTS!!*

Situation 1: I don't want a relationship

On more than one occasion, I found myself enjoying the company of someone who was at least an 8 (OMG),  AND they could somewhat tolerate my ramblings (that's the dream afterall). We get along well enough: have the occasional deep conversation, give each other the odd compliment in which neither can accept, I'll even laugh when he farts. We also don't over indulge on hanging out together, random phone calls and text are limited, and this chick always pays for her own food (because I'm an independent woman, who racked up most of the bill.)

Everything is going well, everyone is happy and not pinned down to anything. Perfect.

Then, somehow, one party feels compelled to mention that they don't want a relationship

This of course is a blanket statement for things like "I don't want to make regular time for you" or, "You are a temporary band-aid on my currently broken heart and bruised ego from a previous dealio" and my personal favorite, "I don't like you but I'll kiss you and such when provoked by alcohol." All of these are perfectly justifiable reasons to not get emotionally involved with another individual and it shows some level of maturity to actually say that to someone.

So much so that when someone says that general phrase, I am relieved to know where we stand thus I can act accordingly - a reasonable human being that knows how to respect another person's wishes and boundaries. Mainly because I often feel the same way, as the following conversation will express:

Dude: I'm not ready for a relationship
Me: Great, me neither! I can barely commit to a month-by-month magazine subscription!

But when I calmly and maturely say the same phrase to guys, it goes like:

 Me: I'm not ready for a relationship
 Dude: GET OFF MY BACK WOMAN! I told you I'm not ready for this! I have a life, and I          gotsta get my bro-time on. I NEED MY BRO-TIME!!!!

This reaction is valid if only preceded by, "Hey Sweetie-poo-butt, so I just got off the phone with your mom and she says that you sunburn easily so we MUST  have a fall wedding if we want an outdoor venue. Oh, and do you like the name "Charleston" or "lil' Swiggi" for our prospective third son? I know how you feel about out of date dance crazes, but I've always wanted a child with an exotic name. Honeyfart, why did you just spontaneously combust? Is everything okay?"

I guess we were on the same page but the book was written in different languages. Or maybe I started to speak Parseltounge and didn't realize it. CURSE YOU, GIFTS OF SYTHERIN!

Why he was wrong: This situation is special because it is one of the few that has occurred more than once so I can't pinpoint specific wrongness. In general, I would say that guys just assume all girls want a [insert famous Romcom hollywood starlet here] type life and he is the love interest. Get over yourself, I just like looking at your face. Your silent, non-speaking face.

Why I was right: Listen, I'm not completely heartless. I just know that if I let someone into the Pandora's box that is my upper-middle class dramatic life, they would get caught in an undertow of what seems like 24/7 PMS. Even I can't handle it. And I keep this fact to myself to seem like a normal functioning person. I'm doing you a favor so shut your mouth and listen to me - I'M NOT READY.

Final Dating Status: Dwindling friendship at best, mortal enemies at worst.



HERE'S SOMETHING ELSE

Take a moment to boost my self-esteem with a quick FB like or StumbleUpon thumbs up or whatever they do. You could even leave a post telling me about my spelling errors! I just like reading things :) thanks.

The Coffee Countdown

*There's a spoiler alert that you might want to read first just in case you don't like the subject area of this post*

Here are some quick facts about me that I am sure I have already mentioned before:

-  I would equate my metabolism to the phenomenon of the nutrient grab that takes place when a plant dies in the rainforest. My body absorbs food 20x faster than it should which means I am a food vacuum that is never satisfied.
-  I don't drink coffee because mentally I am 4 years old and what's worse than giving children sugar infused coffee? For this reason I usually stick to unsweetend teas - semisweet if someone manages my sugar intake.

You would think that 4ish years of college would have taught me the finer points of coffee-ism, by which I would already be a connoisseur and could taste the difference between Guatemalan and English brews (or at least caffeinated and decaffeinated)

With that, I shall enlighten you on what happens when I ignorantly convince myself that I NEED coffee in order to stay up for a 4-hour shift after a sleepless night. This whole process took about 45 minutes and I am currently in the hangover portions of post-caffeinated life. I DON'T LIKE IT!

10: I arrive at my internship early because I know it will take me at least 15 minutes to figure out how to conjure an 8-ounce mug of coffee. I opened the top of the machine to release a whiff of the previous batch made earlier by someone much more accomplished than me. There was still some grounds left in the filter but I wasn't sure if old and new coffee grounds were like old and new money - they don't mix well. I asked the only other non-coffee drinker for help and we were both perplexed. EXPERIMENT TIME! I had a slight heart attack when the only bag I found contained whole beans (what the WHAT!?! Is that even legal to sell in 'Murica?) but was relieved to find a normal bag full of ground up goodness.

9: While waiting for my serving of alertness to filter, I become surprisingly alert for my current sleep deprived self. It was almost as if the promise of coffee was enough caffeine for me to function. I should have listened. Nonetheless, I made myself a cup-o-joe when the time came.

And I was left alone. In the kitchen. With sugar.

So naturally I poured about 4 tablespoons in with an unhealthy serving of french vanilla creamer. Tis unhealthy  because I am still allergic to milk.

8: I drink all of the coffee in less than 3 minutes. It isn't as though I had a trough to begin with, but as I stated before about my physical characteristics, I process food WAY too fast, including a regulated drug such as caffeine which was in the beginning stages of my demise.

7: 17 minutes post coffee down I continue my work as usual forgetting that I just downed my biggest food mistake since the Thai food debacle of 2012. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary, in fact, I wasn't suffering from my mid day I'm-going-to-die-because-I-haven't-eaten-yet ritual. I was even communicating with my co-workers in a non-awkward manner. Everything was going swimmingly until...

6: ...midway though a sentence that I was fully aware that I was making, reality began to fade away as I realized I could feel my internal organs. They weren't doing anything in particular or even worth paying attention to, but coffee thought otherwise. I'm not even sure how that conversation ended. I just sank down into my chair.

I've made a huge mistake. And it would only get worse.

5: I tried to get back to my work because that was what the focus juice was for anyway - focusing. However, as I tried to revise a particularly important document I had been working on for a later meeting, the screen began to get blurry and I found myself squinting - just to squint. My body was shutting down.

4: With productivity at a daily low, I chose to give myself a minute to get a handle on the situation. This just turned into realizing how aware I was of the hairs on my arm which stood at full attention. That wasn't helping. I thought if I informed my mom - the only person who knows I shouldn't drink anything stronger than apple juice - about my condition she would be able to help. The following conversation transpired via text:

Me: I JUST HAD COFFEEEE!!!!
Mom: Oh noooooooooo
Me: My heart is a dragon song!!!!!

Note, I have no idea what that means

3: By this time I'm sure my mom had alerted the local authorities that a monster had just been born in the downtown area of our highly populated city, so I would soon be getting the help I needed. But not before my meeting.

2: I enter the room shaking out of excitement. IT'S A MEETING YAY I thought. I almost shouted it but thankfully my actions were stifled by the actual content of the meeting. I did my best to not tap, dance, or blurt out random exclamations as the business of it all took place. I just had to last about an hour and then I could go outside and roundhouse kick the caffeine out of my body. Then something amazing happened. I was beginning to awaken into a normal human being, defying the spell that caffeine had cast upon my soul. The meeting was almost done and I could feel the sweet relief of normality return, colors began to stabilize and the urge to burst out as one does in a musical began to subside. I was released from the grips of hyperactivity  and it only took about 30 minutes. Everything was going right in the world! That is until...

1: That demon coffee decided it needed out of my body. NOW! It must have taken a detour on the path of digestion because I was sure this process should have taken at the very least 2 hours.

 I'm sure other coffee drinkers are accustomed to this final step, so I beg the question WHY DRINK IT!?! It produces sweaty, jumpy, and mind altered work zombies that actually barely get work done.

The only thing my tortured body can do now is nap so goodnight and don't EVER invite me to starbucks. I've learned my lesson.






*P.S. Sorry it's a story that ends with poop.* :/

That Time I Got Stabbed

As many of you know I am not known for my timeliness. In fact, it might be one of the attributing reasons why I was fired from my newspaper job in high school.  

In regards to this website thingy, I feel that out of all the seconds in my life that I have, most of them are not worthy of anyone really caring to know about. But when I begin to weave a tale from my past, the oohs and ahhs that they receive tell me that I might just have really high standards on what I think is entertainment.

Oh well.


The good news is, as I look into the deepest corners of my  mind, I can find a few good stories from my recent college years that could be potentially humorous.


This particular instance was when I began, and ended, the body piercing phase of my youth. Enjoy.

I knew I had always wanted to get my nose pierced, what with having a high tolerance for pain and wanting to limit the number of jobs I can apply for after college.

In my dorm there were several other girls who felt the same, so naturally they all flocked to the nearest body alteration workshop.

I, being too cool for school, waited until the hype was low and asked for a location of reference.

I should have known I was in for some fun when I learned the name... the asylum.

No wait that's not scary enough.



That's better. With a name like that you know everything is going to be alright.

I took my friend with me for good measure, although this particular person would probably lose in a match between someone who stabs people for a living. I guess anyone would unless they were made out of diamonds - but I digress.

When we reached the place, there were two workers, and the young spry fellow was quick to attend to my questions regarding minor self mutilation. It is a good thing too. The other man who was obviously on break was too busy devouring a sandwich with both hands. He caught my attention for a number of reasons. First, he had a handsome beard. A beard so prestigious, I wanted to shake its hand. the man must have known how great his beard was, because he was in a mutualistic relationship with it, where it caught the numerous crumbs that fell from the sandwich. Oh that sandwich, I'm not sure if it was cibatta bread or this guy had a bad cocaine problem, but there was an above average amount of what I assumed to be bread flour flying off of the hand held meal with every bite he administered. What didn't land in the beard  found its way onto his hands.

This whole scene made me glad this other guy was here because snow hands MaGee back there was not in any sanitary condition to hygienically do the biding of piercing my nose. After my transaction, I sat for a while, at which time the clean gentlemen when on break.

From the corner of my eye I saw the post sandwiched heathen slap his hands clean of excess flour and beckon me.

Warning sign #1.

As my support group and I followed powder hands into the broom closet under repair which was soon to be the scene of a voluntary stabbing, I felt slightly less confident about by choices but still not shaken enough to turn back now - I didn't want powder hands to judge me.

It came to the moment when I needed to assume the position of sitting in the  dusty chair in the middle of the room which leaned back just enough so that I could see a massive spider in the corner of the ceiling wink at me before I closed my eyes.

To be honest the actual assault was not as bad as I imagined mainly because my imagination is so colorful it expands past the realm of possibility so I should have known. I expected there would be some sort of full body paralysis for several hours but really it was just some localized bleeding.

After the millisecond of trauma to the left nostril my bearded host asked me if I knew how to keep the area hygienically sound over the course of its existence. Actually his diction mirrored that of Hagrid so it was more like "Y'er know how t'er clean 'er?" 

After decoding this half giant spreak, I answered no at which point he threw me a plastic cup of white crystals and said "thur ya go."

Was it logical for me to think he had just tossed me a sizable amount of cocaine? Probably not. But I threw it away for good measure. 

I left and realized that after looking up nose piercing care that it was just sea salt. what a gentleman. 

REAL Post-College Blog Talk

I'm back after yet another hiatus and let me tell you I am quite upset. Please excuse me if this is not oozing with comical relief as much as previous posts, but if you enjoy reading the mental breakdown of a young lady then stay tuned.

In the past 6 months after college, I have had some really awesome (and really embarrassing) experiences. I even fulfilled more than 20% of my dreamboard. As a sidenote, dreamboards are actually quite magical things and I encourage everyone to make one.

I have been about to travel to see my friends twice, as well as host people in my great hometown. I have lived with amazing people and have kept a job since 2 weeks after graduating. I was even offered 3 jobs at once! In a pretty crappy economy, I am actually doing pretty well.I am truly grateful for all that I have.

But the spoiled millennial in me has to find some way to complain or else my body will cease functionality. It's not like I want to feel as though no matter how well I am doing, I not doing THE BEST or whatever, I just constantly strive for something that might need patience. But I'm too young to be that rational.

At least once a week I occupy my time with twenty-something blog posts about people feeling the same way. But they are not the same as me. Because their complaints involve feeling lonely in their OWN APARTMENT or being treated like a child at their FULL-TIME JOB. And I just want to scream AT LEAST YOU HAVE THOSE THINGS - which is ironic in itself because there are recent grads reading this right now thinking they at least had some of the things I have.

Yeah I live at home but it's not on the street. Yeah I have to wear a uniform at work but it's still a job. I have my own car. Things are okay, but they aren't great. They are not I-just-graduated-and-I-am-living-the-dream great.

And right now it's fine, I just feel like a very successful 16 year old. There are people in my circle who are getting married and popping out babies MULTIPLE BABIES. And I'm just sitting here looking at a cardboard representation of my dreams.

I guess I just wanted to say that while we all want to just stop and throw a pity party for ourselves at times, all we can do is relish in what we do have and try to be grown-ups about it. It's what we are striving for anyway - right?

That being said, grown-ups can still jump on the bed, eat copious amounts of candy, and participate in  general shenanigan-like situations.