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.

It's Black History Month so...

...leave me alone about it. Every year the same events occur to me during the month of African-American Historical reflection. All will be calm in the classroom, with the exception of muffled conversations bout the epic adventures of the weekend. Then the teacher/professor/ authoritative figure head addresses the class with a tone filled with false excitement with just a dash of sympathy.


"Today is February 1, the start of Black History Month."


And as if I had turned on my magnet pants and everyone in the room had a brain made of a metal alloy, every head instinctively turns in my direction.  Do I look like an Afro-pedia filled with various black facts? I understand that my pigmentation might give the impression that it is encoded with the events of the every African-American that ever lived, but I assure you, history is not my best subject, let alone American History. I am just as confused as everyone else why other people of my race enjoy the combination Fried Chicken and waffles. Maybe we like the idea of an unhealthy brunch. I don't know where you can  get Jay-Z tickets for his new tour. Try Ticketmaster. If they ever start a Brie History Month, ask as many questions as you want.




To be honest, why are we even trying to remember the history of African Americans? It isn't really glowing with America's finest hour. Oh, remember the time segregation was a reality? Here's an idea, let's dedicate and entire month to that! Remember when that woman made history sitting on a bus just like any human should have been able to do? Let's put that on a stamp.

I'm not the only one who is negatively affected by this month. Did anyone read about Don Cornelius today? I'm not going to be the one to break the news to you but let's just say Love Peace and SOOOUUULLL were not enough to get him through another February.


I hope this post didn't make anyone feel too uncomfortable but then again that's how I'll be spending the entire month.


Happy Holidays.

Awkwardness Decoded...with Codes

Oh my gosh looks who's back! Again again. I like to keep everyone clamoring for more posts so they don't get bored but I will admit a 4 month or so sabbatical is a bit much.

Anyways I have good news! My life is in shambles again so you have something worthwhile to read. Nothing too bad this time but it is in fact my personal response to reverse culture shock and a lack of social ability. Let me explain.

After being in a country where I wasn't allowed to voice my opinion or even show my ankles if men were around I have adopted a new lifestyle known to me and others who listen to my drunken ramblings as the corner dust syndrome.

The way I see it there are 125 types of people in this world but only 2 types worth mentioning for this demonstration. The first is similar to the social butterfly but in my chopped and screwed language it can be referred to as the light bulb.

The light bulb has the ability to brighten any room by turning their personality and charisma on and off at any given moment. Their sheer confidence alone can turn any "event" into a "shindig" in seconds.

These people go on to be successful members of society like the cool starbucks barista or the hobo who talks to himself. They may not be successful in the traditional financial sense but they are truly rich in friendship and maybe even a little debt. Either way they are a measurable strand in the fabric of community.

These are the type of people I idolize because they are able to express their thoughts and interact with others and maybe even have relationships. Sounds like a fulfilling  well rounded functional life.

This isn’t to say the life of a corner dust isn't fulfilling but - let me explain myself first.

In contrast to the light bulb the corner dust is just some pathetic speck of a thing that lingers in those ever luminous parties hosted by the light bulb. Sure they have friends but they were probably acquired on some default bylaw of a social organization that the corner dust accidentally signed up for. Now it must resort to poorly decorating the background whilst its peers "shoot the breeze" and commit "small talk" - the ever elusive realms of communication that the corner dust has yet to grasp.

Don’t get me wrong the corner dust still has a lot to offer - maybe even more than the light bulb at times because I never said they were the brightest intellectually. I mean, look in your respective room right this instant and see if you have any corner dust. Is this the first time you've noticed it? Why? Because there is no point in acknowledging its existence because it doesn't seem to want or need to be in your life. You probably won’t benefit from it.

But a closer look at that room debris will reveal treasures. Like a shiny dime, a somehow not stale cheeto, or a strand of hair from that guy/girl that you used to play Xbox with and had a crush on. You know, real gems.

Had I not instructed you to venture to that discrete space, how would you have never been able to afford 1/10 of a ticket at the dollar cinema or enhanced your awkward shrine of someone you knew a few years back?

You’re welcome.

But the point of this exercise is to show that corner dust does not have the ability to express itself because it has come to the realization that it is meant to be ignored. It would speak up if it had a voice of its own but it has somehow been suffocated with loose wool fabric from your favorite winter blanket. (I'm sure I lost the analogy here somewhere but bare with me.)

Corner dust isn't a jerk for keeping these nuggets of gold from you or the rest of the world it just figured you didn't want them.

So for a few tips of recognizing people with these characteristics always look for those who plant themselves along the wall of gatherings of more than 3 people sometimes even literally in the corner just staring into the abyss hoping that someone will ask their opinion on whatever topic they are probably eavesdropping on.

Or perhaps ask them where they bought their fashionable new blouse or even what's up because most likely they have been rehearsing this conversation in their head for weeks and are just dying to shout their opinion about something. Just engage these pathetic wallflowers and you might find they have something beautiful hidden inside.

I should know - I've been there.


And consider this an informal public apology to those I've snubbed while trying to get a handle on my personal shortcomings. I'm new here remember?

Finally! the Summer Edition (Brought to you in August)

I know I know, It's been a while. Just put the toaster down and get out of the bathtub, your reason for living is back.

As a side note I also have produced a new website thingy that is slightly more philosophical and possibly less entertaining but I'll do my best. And I cannot guarantee that there won't be any spelling errors so forgive me and my 3rd grade understanding of basic spelling once again. Now back to business.

This post was supPOST (pun) to be up about 3 months ago so pretend that its the first day of summer and not the first day of school for some of you. Enjoy.

I Can Fix That: Relationshiping for Guys

Once again recent events in my life have prompted me into thinking the rest of the world, or at least the 6 people who read this, have similar encounters in their lives. After years of ass-backward relationship type situations with the opposite gender, I have compiled my most troublesome moments along with remedies in case you should find yourself in the same situation. And this advice is going to be pretty legit because I recently read like 12 seventeen magazine articles and they TOTALLY know all about guys – and dramarama!!

Courting a Young Lass

Here you are on a simple Tuesday afternoon, looking over your Biology notes before class even starts, just to make sure you retain your perfect 4.0 average in the class, when you look up at the clock to make sure you have enough time to memorize Meiosis when you catch something from the corner of your eye. The most beautiful earth inhabitant has entered the room, and is in your class! From the moment she clumsily stumbled into the classroom with arms fully occupied with textbooks and novels about angsty teenage witches and wizards, you knew your heart would never be the same. And just as the gods would have it, her seat is directly across from yours! Tis a good day indeed.

But do you even deserve this specimen of perfection?   If you ever hope to one day procreate with something as magnificent as this new found love, you will need to get to know her on an intellectual, social, and personal level. This can be done through healthy reoccurring conversation over a period of time until a friendship develops and there is a comfortable aura when the two of you interact.

Ouch! My Dignity!

Before we get into the giggles, I would like for who are well practiced in the English language and have a keyboard to consider leaving a comment. Seeing as though 85% of my self-esteem is derived from the approval of others, the boost would be much needed. :)

With that being said, here is a story about how I lost a piece of my dignity hours ago!

As some of you may know, my current residence is in the great cornstate. And as of late, the weather has been very fickle. For the past few days, the weather has gone from about -10 degrees to 40 degrees but to put it in more relatable terms, "all humans should stay indoors until this mini-ice age is over" to "all hale the glorious sun! Praise the rays that demolish the evil ice dust!!" 

Being the crazy person that I am, I typically enjoy when the freeze mister comes to town. Except for today.

I had been cooped up in classes or the library all day and because I have some sense about myself, I didn’t waste time in the morning by waiting until 8:58am to see if it was cold outside or not. I face the day without a preface, just like any champion would.

(Picture here later. maybe)

So when I went outside for the first time, I was filled with child-like joy to find that it was snowing. I am still new to this phenomenon that beautiful crystals elegantly float from the above abyss and place themselves on the earth, thus coating it with a thin layer of joy. The amount  of beauty that the campus gains from this natural occurrence is indescribable. While trying to fight back tears of joy, I made my way over to my next place of business, but embarrassment would soon stop me in my tracks.

Because I did not take the time to check the forecast, my footwear was less on the practical side and more on the fashionable side. I'm sorry if I want to get good use out of my inside boots that were approximately 40% cheaper than my winter approved snow boots. I like to save those for a rainy day (pun intended.)

As I basked in the winter wonderland that was forming all around me, I forgot about the lack of traction my shoes failed to provide me. My happiness was taken from me as quickly as I received it as I fell on the newly fallen snow. There are several reasons why it was the worst moment in my life.

1) I was alone. Friendship is nice for several reasons. You are guaranteed gifts for birthdays and most holidays. Being distracted in class is a breeze with at least one friend around. And when embarrassment looms over your head like a cloud of eminent depression and woe, friends are there to laugh with you until your self-esteem reaches a healthy level. In this current event, there was no one to remove me from the cold grasp of public shaming, and yet I did not cry. Point for Brie!

2) No one acknowledged it. Not a laugh. Not a point. Not even an “are you okay young and feeble being? Because I am walking right next to you and I have at least an ounce of moral fiber, I will risk being late to my next appointment as to assure you are able to continue to your destination.” Nothing. I felt like I was invisible but also, I kind of pretended it didn't happen until...

3) The snow residue. Not only did I not realize that my butt had displayed on it my lack of coordination and gracefulness, but when I sat down, I melted the snow, thus providing a puddle in my seat and a wet spot on my pants. Good thing I wasn't planning on making new friends today.

P Squareds

Yeah yeah yeah, you're looking at the title of this thinking I had a seizure while writing because it doesn't make any sense. Well SHUT UP because it does. P-squared is what I call things that irritate me, much like "pet peeves" but ironically, that phrase is something that irritates me so I shortened it to PxP or P-squareds. Get it? Great.

I enjoy most things in life and generally thank whatever created the universe for letting me live each and every day. But there are some things that make me want to surgically remove my ears or bluntly bash my eyes blind or render my olfactory nerve useless. Here's a short list of examples.

Also, this post containts no pictures so, sorry.

Spanish Eyes

I've been told quite a few times in my life that I have pretty amazing eyes. I mean, I was once in a relationship(?) with someone only because they enjoyed looking into my eyes. Of course who wants to date someone that shallow, so I kicked him to the curb. This is all so you can realize just how special my ocular orifices are.

In being so special, you would think that I would take care of them. You would think that I would go out of my way to preserve their beauty, or at least take the basic steps of making sure the eye repo man doesn't come knocking on my door.

It is true that sometimes I have been known to go the extreme when it comes to my eyes, like wearing non-prescription fashion specs. I do this for several reasons. 1) I like how I look in them B) They make me feel slightly more professional on those extra professional days iii) I am terrified of eye paper cuts.

This last bullet point usually gets giggles. hahah PAPER IN YOUR EYE!! laugh now. I didn't think so. So I make sure this life tragedy never happens to me by applying the necessary protective gear when I wake up on the occasional morning and feel that it is going to be extra papery.

A Holiday Story: Part 1 of 1000

Firstly, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! And happy other holidays that are just as equally as important but too complicated for me to spell. I hope everyone's December has treated them with much love and expensive gifts, or at least one of those.


Mine is going pretty swell, with the exception of my heathenistic urge to strangle my only brother every time he ribs on me for expressing my true self, like when I laugh, breathe, or talk in a British accent - which is amazazing by the way - but I'm rambling.


Because everyday of my life this week has been filled with blog worthy tales, I'm spreading them out in a mini-series of Christmas stories. Many of them aren't even Christmas themed so don't worry if you are uncomfortable with Christian based epics. Even still, I might forget many of the stories or even get bored so this whole series might end three stories in. With that long introduction, I give you "The Missing Cell phone."

Gluttony Getting the Best of Me

Remember that time I used to write things here? Well, I sort of forgot I had classes to take. In an epic brain battle of deciding whether to become a super famous internet star or not dropping out of college, I choose the latter. Anyway, I wrote this a while back so the days might be weird.
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Hope you had a good day today. If not, this might cheer you up.

I got my first hangover last night at  11:47 pm on a Thursday. True story.

It gets worse. This wasn't caused by poor decisions with alcohol and lack of self control in an underage social scene. It was in my bed with a 32oz bag of candy accompanied by the latest episodes of The League and my oso pirata. Now let's back track this mofo titanic style! (I'm also very tired so please excuse this poor attempt at slang.)

Two years ago I found the holy grail of candies. It’s so fantastic, I made my own advertisement for it because it is pretty low key.

And this magic used to be available everywhere, in cornstate at least. To be honest, if I really sit down and think about it, this sweetened masterpiece might contribute to 23% of the reason why I choose to go to school here. You just can't find quality servings of copious amounts of sugar in bbqstate.

But alas, my interstate travels led me to cornstate, where the stuff pretty much grows on trees. My discovery of infinite candy made me feel like if the Trix bunny had finally killed those maniacal children and located the factory in which they made the Trix products. It would be just me and the sweet flavors of high fructose corn syrup and artificial fruit flavors.

But within months of moving to cornstate, the company decided to cut off the entire state and leave me on an island without the single most joyous edible delight in American history. That is until the woman who gave me life supplied me with the reason why I strive to live - candy.

On a simple Tuesday, I opened my mailbox to an overflow of my sweet-tooth's preference. Watermelon, green apple, blueberry. The gang was all there. As I wiped the tears away from my eyes, I gathered my treasures and made my way to my room.

If you look at my resume, you will find words like charismatic, stealthy, and jack of all trades. But nowhere on that 12-page description will you find "has self control." I don't know who let me bring that entire bag of candy into my room and left me to my lonesome, but they are the one I'm putting the blame on. What happened to those 19 5inch licorice sweets was gruesome. I devoured them mercilessly and didn't look back. For a moment there I thought I heard screams coming from the bag, for the previous victim's peers had seen their fate.

Well my gluttony finally caught up to me 3 episodes deep in my latest TV addiction.


As I attempted to break my lethargic streak and stand up to finally accomplish something for the day, all the sugar I had consumed Oregon trailed it straight to my recently numbed brain. I didn’t stand a chance.  The newly converted glucose began punching my optic chiasm. My eyes then refused anymore torture by rejecting horrific beams of light being emitted by my 30 watt in the far corner of the room.

And something that is not helping my head throbbing is Duffy performing her single “well well well” live on Jimbo Fal (Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. If you don’t watch it, start.)

Have I learned my lesson? Of course not! its candy. I will continue to ingest until there isn’t anything left and am scavenging my apartment for scraps that might have flown off my mouth in the recent massacres while carrying the extra 13 lb I have earned.

Life well spent.

Procrastination!!!!

I've been working on a new post and im doing the pictures. But while we wait, here is something random:

You're welcome.

Letters to Life: Money

Dear My Bank,

Have you read the constitution lately? You know, the one made in the United States? Because last time I checked, it basically told me I can do whatever I want. Like if I want to own bear arms, I can.

I Can Fix That: Chips and Salsa

Chips and salsa. Might as well be called crispy delicious and liquid delicious. Why wouldn't you want your taste buds to marinate in the angelic flavors of the traditional Mexican appetizer and sports food staple?

Because it is embarrassing. There are too many variables going into the task of successfully preparing, serving, and eating CAS (chips and salsa - try and keep up).

Luckily I have recently made every wrong move when it comes to this particular eating experience only to acquire the knowledge of proper etiquette so I can pass it on to you, stranger.


Preparation:

The best thing to do in these first steps is to keep calm. I understand that this is hard to do, especially when there is so much to look forward to in the near future. Before you get the ingredients out, you need to prepare the necessary vessels that will hold the precious food things.

It’s best to use a bowl for the salsa and a plate for the chips – that is if you are at a fancy dinner party and plan on eating this meal with a fork and knife. You eat those chips right out the bag like a caveman would have had he had the chance to taste greatness.



Get over yourself

In Mourning in the Morning

It's currently 2:35 at morning and I am thoroughly depressed. Not because my life is filled with the woes of never sustaining a successful relationship with a male human. Not because my dreams are slowly drifting away from my ambitious grasp as tragically as Mufasa slipped away from Simba. It's because I can no longer drink milk.




WHAT!?!




Sure, your first reaction is, "Why Brie, why don't you just pop a couple of help-me-eat-lactose pills and stop bothering me about your problems?" I have tried this method. Because like you, arrogant stranger, I thought that I was lactose intolerant. This was when I was young and naive.

Letters to Life: Food

Dear Cheese,

I have a confession to make. I’ve been living a lie. I once thought that I loved you. I told everyone about how great you were in and on any meal type I had planned thoughout the day.


My heart would skip a beat when I would read on a menu that you were going to make an appeance on my plate, be it in a pile of shredded wonderment or seemlessly hiding in the main course like a ninja.


But I’m not the only one to blame for this love lost. I have only seen one side of you for the past 19 years - until now.


Sure there have been times as a child when I would step away from my normal daily intake of a block of mild cheddar and journey to the realm of string cheesery. But It always let me down. You let me down. And yet I would try again.

Everything is Stupid...

...That is, until you are the one to try something. Becasue let's be honest, you are the coolest person you know. You shoot awesome right out of your nostrils and leave a path of envious followers where ever you go.

So naturally you have combed the world of all that it has to offer and aquired a liking for only the latest and greatest, sometimes even the oldest and.....boldest? Anyway, you get the picture, because you are IT!

With all this power of dubbing something cool, why waste it on things that you haven't tried yet? Those things are all stupid aren't they?

What if some random joe off the street came up to you and said, "have you tried shark slamming yet? It's this great new thing where...." but by then you are already not interested be cause it is something that a) the pinnical of awesome, you, had not even heard of and b) quite frankly it sounds stupid.