This Freckled Lemonade

Grownup Approved

2011-01-17T16:25:00.000-07:00

Growing up is a strange experience. Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m not at all trying to say that I consider myself a grownup. (I’m only saying that, since my 24^th birthday has recently come and gone, actual adults are no doubt looking at me differently.

Though I may be almost a quarter of a century old, I don’t think that I should have to act maturely all the time. I should be able to have fun and giggle while I’m in public without having to endure the death glare of disapproval from any nearby adults.

But how?

I have come up with the perfect solution to how I can go out in public, have fun, AND be seen as a responsible adult by onlookers.

I need to rent a child.

Ok, ok. I can see how this may sound crazy, and I assure you that there is no need to cart me off the loony bin just yet. Hear me out.

I don’t really have the time to have my own child right now (you know this because I don’t even have enough time to regularly update my blog!), and I definitely don’t have the money for my own child – especially since I am now working a full time unpaid internship. Still, I could totally benefit from having a kid around once in a while, and here’s an example of why:

I love eating out at restaurants; the food is delicious and I don’t have to make it OR do the dishes. The only unpleasant part? Waiting for the food. It’s so BORING just sitting there with nothing to do. Breezy and I can’t even take part in an interesting conversation, because the kinds of conversations we have are the kind that you have to pay extra for because they are too awesome for cable television and have to be aired on HBO or FX or something. So, instead, we just sit and wait for the food, occasionally whispering crass comments about the people around us for our own amusement.

Sure, people-watching is alright, but I want to be able to color and doodle and play a goddamned game of tic tac toe if I want to, without being judged by the other “grownups” who are waiting patiently for their food while conversing about politics that they don’t even fully understand but pretend they do anyway, and the other grownups just go ahead and believe them because they are just repeating what they heard on talk radio that morning, so it sounds pretty legit. I mean, what the steaming shit am I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs? Play footsie with Breezy under the table? Who does those things, anyway?

I would totally ask for a pack of crayons, but I’m afraid of what I’ll look like to the other grownups.

BUT! Insert child:

I'd look like Mother of the Year, coloring with little Breezy Jr.

Winner, winner; I want dinner.

2010-12-17T22:44:00.000-07:00

Beep… beep… beep… and now, please enjoy an update from moi.

I have so many important things to tell you all! So now, in order of how I randomly decide to type them, here are some announcements:

Special Important Announcement #1:

Apparently there was some sort of contest on this here blog, and one of my lovely followers won a $45 gift card to CSN stores! That lovely follower is Sharon! Congrats, and enjoy!

Thank you to all who participated this time around, and special-brownie-points-powered thanks to Jay for submitting a doodle! I will get this up on the fb page soon :)

That kind of sounded like the points are coming from special brownies. I cannot confirm nor deny this.

Special Important Announcement #3:

This has been one crazy and stressful semester, but I am DONE!!! Only one semester left, and I’ll have that purty degree I’ve been working for :)

Special Important Announcement #17:

I got another blog award!!! This one is the Chupacabra Award for Excellence, and it’s from my bloggy friend, Gnetch. Her blog is bomb, and you should totally check it out. Right now.

There are no rules for this award, so I’m making up my own because I think I’ve earned it.

1. If you are viewing this award on my blog right now,

and you think you’re pretty legit, raise your hand.

2. If you raised your hand, you are awesome for

obeying me and this blog award is for you.

3. Only 3 of you are allowed to receive this award,

so commence the fighting.

4. Ok, I lied; I have no way of tracking how many people

do take the award, so there is no limit.

5. If you take the award and put it up on your blog,

you have to make up your own rules

(because it’s kind of fun).

Special Important Announcement #K:

I think that I may have come across as too much of a winter-lover in my last post, so here’s a doodle that should make up for it.

Eff you, Winter. I'm in the desert, and you can't get me here.

Special Important Announcement #I Stopped Counting:

I’m hungry, so I’m going to get some food. Yes, I know it’s 10:30pm, but I am officially on winter break, so don’t judge me.

Another Giveaway!!!

2010-12-10T16:18:00.002-07:00

In celebration of This Freckled Lemonade passing the 100 follower mark, I think it’s time for another giveaway, and my friends over at CSN Stores have offered up another $45 gift card to one of my lucky followers! As you know from my last giveaway with CSN Stores, this is only for those of you in the US and Canada. Sorry, international friends, but someday I will do a giveaway so that you all can participate.

In case you don’t remember, or weren’t following This Freckled Lemonade when I had the last giveaway, CSN Stores has over 200 websites where you can find everything – from cookware, to shoes, to TV stands for flat screens for that new addition to the den!

I’m going to change up the rules this time around, because I like change. So, here are the rules.

To enter, you must do two things:

1. be a follower of This Freckled Lemonade either on Blogger with Google Friend Connect (located on the right side of the page) or by liking the Facebook page (link located on the right side of the page)

2. send an email to thisfreckledlemonade@gmail.com (using the email address where you would like to be contacted if you win) saying that you would like to enter the giveaway and telling me your favorite (or least favorite) part about winter/the holiday season.

That’s it!

However, since I loved your pictures from last time, you can get an additional entry by drawing me a doodle of your choice (using computer software or free-hand, whatever you prefer) and sending it to me in a separate email. You may draw multiple doodles if you want, but you will only receive one additional entry… and brownie points.

So everyone has the chance to get two entries!!!

IMPORTANT: I’m only going to give you guys until

Thursday, December 16^th

to get your entries in, so get to it! I will be announcing the winner one week from today!

In an attempt to persuade you into making me a doodle, I made one for you.

Good Luck!!!

Some Boundaries

2010-12-04T12:08:00.000-07:00

My posts have been very few and far between these days, but I don’t really like that saying, so I’m going to change that.

My posts are as rare as an attractive mullet lately. I bow at your feet and beg for your forgiveness. I have been super-duper busy and stressed out in regards to school and other things lately, but let me tell you something: I have NOT been too busy to notice that I now have over 100 FOLLOWERS!!! This is me:

Do you guys have any idea how many people that actually is? I am not sure if I do. While trying to wrap my mind around this huge number, I got to thinking: if you were all literally following me around all the time, that would get kind of weird. So, I’m thinking that, since our relationship has just risen to a whole new level, we need to set some boundaries and maybe even come up with a safe word for if things get too serious.

First: the boundaries

Now, I don’t mind if you guys are following my blog – in fact, I ABSOLUTELY LOVE that you are following my blog! Follow it some more, if you’d like! And bring your friends! But, when you step out of the blogosphere and into my world and start following me around, here are some places where you probably shouldn’t follow me. Maybe you should bring a book or a magazine or something and just wait for me outside.

The bathroom.

I know that you are all interested in what goes on while I’m in there, so let me just say that I am currently using Aussie’s 3 minute miracle on my hair, and that’s about all you need to know. Besides the fact that you probably shouldn’t be following my naked self around, having 100 people in my tiny bathroom would just be insane. Elbows would be everywhere! Someone would be standing on my toilet, and I’m sure they’ll break the seat off and then I’ll have to buy a new one. It’s best if you just wait outside, and I guess maybe hand me a towel if I need one.

The elevator.

First of all, you have to understand that I loathe elevators on their own, so you should not take this personal. I would much rather take the stairs, as riding in elevators makes me uncomfortable. The only fun part is when the elevator first takes off and starts going down, jump as high as you can! You’ll feel weightless and it is totally awesome.

Next, there is the fact that I am pretty claustrophobic. This probably stems from playing hide and seek at a sleepover when I was a kid and accidentally locking myself in my friends upstairs closet. Nevertheless, stick me in an elevator and add a shit-ton of people, and I’m checking out. Plus, one of you will probably fart and make it all smelly and hard to breathe.

These boundaries should be good for now.

THANK YOU ALL FOR FOLLOWING!!! : )

p.s. the safeword is always onomatopoeia...

and you have to spell it.

The Drive - Thru

2010-11-15T18:05:00.001-07:00

I apologize for being so busy lately that my poor, poor, blog has been put on the back burner. It kills me more than it kills you, though I am sure you have all been distraught and waiting impatiently for a new post. It kills me more, though, because I haven’t had any time to doodle lately – even the margins of my notebooks are nearly bare – and life without doodling is a sad life, indeed.

What have I been doing instead? I’m glad you asked. I have had my head in such cripplingly interesting books as “School Law for Teachers” and “Pronunciation Contrasts in English”, among other things that are necessary steps in this whole degree process. Now, I can see in your eyes that you are all severely jealous right now, but let me tell you something: you shouldn’t be.

All of this concentration and thinking requires fuel, amiright? So I have spent a good amount of time in drive-thru lines (mostly ordering coffee to keep my exhausted eyes open), and I have realized something: I hate the drive-thru! And, of course, I am going to tell you why.

Before I get into my formal complaint, let me first inform you that I am a very credible source on this specific topic, because I used to work in a drive-thru! I worked at the McDonald’s in my hometown from my freshman to my senior year of high school, so you could think of me as an insider. Now I know you're jealous.

First of all, this job is NOT that hard. It’s simple. Take the customer’s order quickly and accurately, take the customer’s form of payment and give change (if needed), and then give the customer the food. Simple. There are other people who are designated to actually make and package the food, so you do not have to worry about that.

Now, I guess I should mention that I am AWESOME, if you haven’t noticed this already, so what seems simple to my advanced brain might not be that easy for some. However, I used to get compliments all the time while working in the drive-thru. Some would tell me that my voice was like angels singing from the balcony of Heaven – well, at least that I had a “good and clear voice” while taking their orders. I never understood why this small detail (that took no effort on my part) was such a big deal to them… until recently when I have had the displeasure of dealing with drive-thru attendants who lack this quality.

Side Note: there are NEVER any healthy options! I am sometimes even tricked into thinking something is healthy, but then it turns out to be basically a lardburger disguised by a measly piece of lettuce.

Other compliments that I would receive were about my toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile and my kick-ass personality. I always thought it was weird (again, because this job is seriously not that difficult), but I would always say thank you anyway… unless they were really creepy about it – like College Bro creepy, or even Dirty Old Man creepy.

But, now that I am on the other side of the situation, I have realized that a shining personality in the drive-thru is like the Holy Grail and is basically impossible to find; the people at the window are almost always RUDE!

I mean, I am taking time out of my day to come to your place of business and physically hand you my hard-earned money for doing your job, but I am totally wrong to do so. I should have just stayed at home and made the coffee myself; I would have saved like five bucks in the process and not been forced to deal with your minimum wage attitude. I don’t care how much money you are making, or how much you hate your job, I was always taught that a job is a job! You are being paid, and you should make the customer feel glad that they are spending their money with you and not make them regret coming to your place of business. Plus, have you looked around? At least you have a job in this economy, no matter how small your paycheck may be.

Once again, I have been there! I did my time in the fast food business, and (even though I started when I was 15) I was grateful to have a job! I would have never treated my customers so poorly.

Ok, done with that little rant. The final thing I hate about the drive-thru is this: they never get my order right!

Here is an actual conversation about my order:

Drive-thru Guy: “Hey, what can I get you?”

Shananigans (ordering my coffee for me, since she was driving):

“A pumpkin pie latte”

Drive-thru Guy: “Pumpkin chai latte?”

Shananigans: “Pumpkin pie latte.”

Drive-thru Guy: “Pumpkin chai latte?”

Shananigans: “Um, pumpkin pie latte.”

Drive-thru Guy: “Pumpkin chai latte?”

Shananigans: “Is that the same thing as a pumpkin pie latte?”

Drive-thru Guy: “No, they are completely different.”

Shananigans: “Oh, um, ok. Pumpkin pie latte.”

Drive-thru Guy: “Pumpkin chai latte?”

Frustration...

Procrastination at Its Finest

2010-10-26T12:59:00.000-07:00

So... the giveaway has come to an end! I put all contestant names into a random line picker (email me if you would like more information on that) and the winner has been notified via the email provided to me (CONGRATS, April!!!).

ALSO: if any other bloggers out there would like to host a giveaway with csn stores, email me and I can get you set up with some info :)

Thank you to all who participated! Your pictures have been posted for all to see on the facebook page! (Mostly so that I can show them off because I love them all so much!!!) And special thanks and apologies to Pooks for submitting a picture, even though my gmail account wrongfully considered her email a piece of spam and hid it from me so that I didn’t see it until this morning :( I love you mucho and will make this up to you by going to Cupz and having a coffee date with you in the near future.

To those who didn't participate: shame on you. JUST KIDDING! I understand that you all lead busy non-doodling lives (and some of you were outside of the shipping area) and I thank you for reading anyway! I also hope that you will consider participating next time - as I'm sure I will do something like this again because I really liked getting those pictures!

Now, for my new post! I am so stoked that this is my last semester of actual college classes for a while, but it is sure taking its toll on me. Essay after essay after stupid pointless essay that doesn't prove that I learned anything from my classes, only that I'm good at googling some things and bullshitting the rest... they have all added up to this post:

Drum roll please…

How to Write a College Paper:

I have had my share of undergraduate classes, and if there is anything that I have learned in my time working toward my degree, it's how to write a college paper. I'm going to share my wisdom with you now for a minimal fee. That fee is a nonrefundable moment of your time.

I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you all know that - no matter how much time you are given to write the paper - you must always begin writing it no earlier than the day/night before it is due. (I am not sure what happens if you attempt to write the paper earlier, but it must be horrible because no one ever does it.)

1. Facebook.
As soon as you get to your computer, you must first log in to your Facebook account and check to see of you have any new notifications. You may also stalk people via the News Feed, but it is not always necessary because we all know that the News Feed page is usually littered with useless information about people we barely know in the first place and their constant bragging about their mediocre lives in an effort to make them seem less mediocre (but, hey, it's more convenient than reading a newspaper, and I never have to watch sports because the highlights and scores are always posted by at least 30 people).

2. Open Microsoft Word.
Once you are comfortable with your Facebook check, minimize the page and open a new Word document. Put your name, class, and date in the header and, if you're feeling frisky, add a title. Save it, just in case your computer crashes or a bear climbs though your window, steals your laptop from you, exits out of Word, and gives your laptop back while laughing/growling with excitement over his little prank.

3. Check Email.
Minimize the document and open your email account in a new window so that you're not tempted to check Facebook, but you can still access your browser. Delete all spam, but not before laughing at all of the "hey baby", "free viagra samples", and "male enhancement" subject lines you see. Read all of those inspirational forwarded emails from Mom that you never really have time to read but decide to save for later. Become inspired. Email Mom, thanking her for the email and letting her know what you have been up to lately.

4. Open Word Document.
Realize that you have just wasted half an hour (or more, if you're a champ!) of paper writing time and promptly sign out of email. Write two-three paragraphs.

5. Be Filled with a False Sense of Accomplishment.

6. Facebook.
Notice the Facebook tab telling you about a new notification and check it out. See that it was just someone you don't know commenting on your friend's status, which you "liked" earlier, even though you knew you'd get these notifications later. Sigh and exit Facebook.

7. Snack Time.
You've been working hard, and your stomach knows it. Vicious roars are erupting from your belly and it won't stop until a sandwich has been made and eaten.
OPTIONAL: watch some TV while you eat because you can't type and eat at the same time, anyway.

8. Notice the Time and Begin Panicking!

9. Power Through.
Quickly BS your way through the rest of the required number of pages, being sure to restate the same point in varying ways, add unnecessary words or phrases to take up space, and change the font size of your periods to 14pt - if you're using 12pt for the rest of your paper - because it will go unnoticed and add nearly an entire page to your paper, depending on the current length.

10. Facebook.
Post a status about how you just made that paper your bitch.

Drippy, Drippy, Drippy

2010-10-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

REMEMBER: the deadline to enter the giveaway is Monday night, and I have VERY few entries so far. You would have a pretty good chance of winning if you were to draw me a picture for entrance into this giveaway. I am not judging these pictures; they are merely your ticket into a randomized drawing. Good luck!

Now, for this week’s post.

I have been ridiculously busy lately and have had minimal time to doodle (sad, I know). However, this onslaught of “To-Do Lists” has somehow turned me into a deranged lunatic, because I spend so much time in my head that all of my thinking-space is being filled with ludicrous and senseless thoughts, leaving no room for the analytical processes I need in order to complete the things on my lists. For example, I have a 6-page paper due tomorrow, but when I opened my laptop this morning to work on it, I began to doodle instead. Foolishness.

Anyway, here is one of the thoughts that popped into my head the other day in the shower as I was singing children’s camp songs.

Children’s songs are pretty effed up. Like, I heard somewhere that “Ring Around the Rosie” was really about the Plague. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s still weird to think that children would sing such a dark song so innocently.

The song I was singing in the shower the other day seemed innocent at first, but as I got further and further into the song I realized it was pretty effed up that we would encourage children to sing this song. It goes like this:

Oh, I wish I was a little bar of soap (bar of soap).

I’d go slippy, slippy, slidey over everybody’s hiney.

Oh, I wish I was a little bar of soap (bar of soap).

Ok, I know that everyone uses soap (or, at least, I hope they do), but isn’t this a little risqué? Slipping and sliding over EVERYONE’s naked hiney?

No?

Well, it gets better. Here’s the next verse:

Oh, I wish I was a little mosquito (mosquito).

I’d go bitey, bitey, bitey, under everybody’s nighty.

Oh, I wish I was a little mosquito (mosquito).

So, not only is this person wanting to make sure that everyone is clean, now his main wish is to BITE everyone underneath their clothes?! That’s just rude. And slightly molest-y.

Still not with me on this? Here’s the last verse.

Oh, I wish I was a little tea cup (tea cup).

I’d go drippy, drippy, drippy, over everybody’s lippy.

Oh, I wish I was a little tea cup (tea cup).

This one takes the cake. I don’t even want to know what this person would like to drip all over our lips, but it sounds like “tea” is just a cover-up for his true intentions.

You wouldn’t let little Billy watch the DVD of this song; don’t let him sing it!

*paid for by the Campaign for Non-Molest-y Children’s Songs.

Giveaway!!!

2010-10-11T18:52:00.002-07:00

GUESS WHAT!?!

I have good news for all of my lovely followers (in US and Canada)!!!

I would ask you to guess what it is, but I think it’s pretty obvious from the title.

CSN Stores has offered to provide a giveaway to my readers, and (since I love you guys so much) I have agreed host this giveaway! You’re welcome. If you don’t know already, CSN Stores has over 200 websites to choose from, and they sell everything from barstools to beds to bathtubs to just about anything you could wish to buy while sitting lazily on your couch eating Cheetos and watching reruns of the Simpsons… oh, wait. That’s what I’m doing.

SO…

What does this mean for me?

Answer: I get to make-a-da-rules.

What does this mean for you?

Better answer: You get to win-a-da-prize!

The prize:

A $45 one-time-use gift certificate, good to use on whatever tickles your fancy at any of the CSN Stores websites (there's over 200, so don't tell me you can't find something).

Since they can only ship to US/Canada, only the followers in those areas can win. Sorry, international friends! BUT, if you still want to participate in Rule #3 (explained below), I would receive it with open arms and a gigantic smile, and I would definitely draw a picture for you in return, if you’d like.

The rules:

Rule #1: don’t talk about the giveaway.

*This isn’t really a rule, but every time I think of lists of rules I think of Fight Club*

Rule #2 (actual rule): you have to be a follower.

You have 2 options:

1. “follow” my blog w/Google friend connect

(on the right side of the page click the "follow" button)

2. “like” This Freckled Lemonade on Facebook

*Doing both will not get you multiple entries – lame, I know, but I’m more concerned with the next rule*

Rule #3 (actual rule): Make me a doodle and send it to thisfreckledlemonade@gmail.com! Make sure you send it from the email address where you wish to be contacted if you win, because the winner will be notified via email from CSN Stores.

About the doodle:

I love doodling, and I love sharing my doodles with all of you, so, in return for a chance to win the prize, I want you to doodle for me.

You can use any program you want to use to doodle it on your computer (I use Adobe Illustrator, but you could use Paint or whatever you are comfortable using), OR you can hand draw it and scan it or take a picture of it. Just make sure you send it to thisfreckledlemonade@gmail.com.

Your doodle can be about anything you want! After all, it is your doodle. You could make a self portrait…

… or, maybe, a mass doodle of all of your favorite things…

… or even a random picture like one of a dog peeing on a baby in a park.

I don’t know why you’d choose to draw something like that, but I am not one to judge (obviously).

*multiple doodles will not get you multiple entries, but they will get you brownie points – which, we all know, sound delicious but have no real value*

*I will probably be putting your pictures on here at some point, so if you don’t want other people to see it, let me know and I won’t publish it on here*

To re-cap:

There is a giveaway.

You could be the winner.

All you have to do is:

Follow this blog or like the facebook page

And draw me a picture and send it to me

Now, I’m not looking for quality work here (unless you feel so inclined). (Everyone who enters will receive one entry and the winner be chosen at random.) However, I do realize that it might take you a while to finish your doodles, so the deadline will be two weeks from today, which is Monday, October 25 at midnight.

I will remind you when it gets close, but make haste, my friends! I don’t want you to miss out on this awesome opportunity, and if it were me I’d put off my homework and doodle away… oh wait, that’s what I’m doing right now.

If you have any questions, feel free to comment or email me!

It's The Shit

2010-10-07T21:29:00.000-07:00

I am not sure why it's there, or even how it first originated, but it's been there for as long as I can remember. I can even remember it being at my parent's house when I was young, and somehow it has followed me to my own grown-up home, where it will probably stay for the rest of my life, no matter how many times I move to a new place.

Though it is consistent, it is always changing. It comes in many forms, has differing content, but it haunts me all the same.

In my family, we usually refer to it as “The Shit”. A common form of The Shit is its distant cousin, The Shit Drawer, and then of course there is its embarrassing uncle, The Pile.

I mean, at least The Shit Drawer has enough courtesy to keep The Shit inside, hidden from guests; The Pile has no decency at all as it shows off its existence to anyone within viewing range, no doubt making them think awful things about me and my organizational skills.

The Pile is easy to get rid of at first - hang up clean clothes, wash the dirty ones - but make no mistake! The Pile will return, and it might even bring reinforcements. You may have won the battle, but you have not won the war. You will never win the war.

In fact, here is a chart which I have created to represent your chances of winning the war against The Pile:

A rich person has a slight chance of winning because they can hire maids to fight their battles for them. The rest of us, however, probably have a negative chance of winning; no matter how hard we fight it, we just get deeper and deeper into a war which cannot be won.

In my opinion, The Shit Drawer holds the most random contents of all the forms of The Shit. Piles take on the contents of their surroundings. For example, The Pile on the foot of my bed is full of clothes because it's near the closet, and The Pile on my desk is filled with papers because I suck at organizing bills and such. The Shit Drawer may be in the kitchen, but you wouldn't know it by merely observing the items inside.

Here are some highlights from mine:

Colorful pipe cleaners

Mace (in case I'm being attacked in the kitchen? I think at that point I'd probably just go for the butcher knife or a heavy pan...)

A fortune cookie

A butterfly knife (I’m not sure what this is for either; the only time I have ever seen it used is when Breezy is seemingly attempting to chop off his fingers in a karate-like fashion)

Now, for your homework assignment:

What's in your Shit Drawer?

Don't Honk if You're Horny

2010-09-30T19:51:00.002-07:00

So, I know that I’ve talked about this issue at least once before, but it continues to be such a problem, in (my) daily life, that I felt the need to discuss the issue once again – only this time I’m going further in depth.

As a female pedestrian, I am at the risk of experiencing unwanted honks from random drivers, or – worse! – the disgusting lean-out-the-window-and-holler/blow-a-kiss. Now, I know that you might be thinking that there are more important issues (like the Ground Zero community center, the state of the U.S. economy, our immigration policy, the drug cartels, net neutrality, or any number of potential political candidates, whose signs are plastered all over my beautiful city like a plague, and why they are the messiah and/or the anti-christ) about which we could be talking, but, I assure you, this is a pressing matter.

As I am forced to experience this frenzied, testosterone influenced, honking phenomenon nearly every day that I walk to the train, I have repeatedly asked the question: “Why are these random people honking at me, and what is their motive?” I guess I’m also asking this one: “What is their major malfunction?!”

Oh, and before I get further into this, I have to say “No worries (Mom)!” because I never feel endangered in any way by these honking not-so-secret admirers; it’s merely an issue of annoyance and, frankly, confusion.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, I have created an outline (with pictures) which shows the most likely reason for and process of the “honk”. Enjoy.

There he is: the perpetrator. He is minding his own business, trying to get from point A to point B, whilst drowning his daily sorrows in the best of the 80’s, 90’s, and today, though it appears he would more likely enjoy classic rock… but he knows this song… You know he knows this song, and he knows he knows this song!

There she is: the victim. Skipping joyously to her destination… or slowly dragging her feet because, even though it’s nearly October, it’s hot and, like my Daddy would say, she’s sweatin’ like a whore in church.

The perp spots his victim. Drool forms at the corners of his mouth as he goes into a rabid state, his need to address the victim’s beauty outwardly rising from his toes to the back of his throat like wildfire.

I am not exactly sure if the wildfire thing works in this situation, but stay with me here; I needed a comparison and that was the first thing to pop into my head, since my head has been swimming with thoughts of Panem and Katniss Everdeen for the past three days (and NO commenting about the end of the third book! Give me time to finish!)…

Back to my rant.

I think this one is self explanatory.

Honk!

At this point, the driver is satisfied, knowing that his compliment has been well received.

At the same time, the girl feels outright degraded – singled out by the disgusting display of chauvinistic misogyny.

This is the kind of small-scale terrorism that leads to bra burnings and inter-office law suits; Breezy says I just need to learn how to take a compliment.

Freshman vs. Senior

2010-09-20T23:25:00.003-07:00

Well, it has taken long enough, but I am finally a senior in college! I have actually been a senior for a few weeks now, but it’s kind of hard to believe because it still feels the same as it did when I was a freshman, except for now I am getting so anxious to graduate that I think every assignment I have to do is “dumb” and “a complete and utter waste of time” and I have already learned enough to be handed my degree and sent off to the real world (and I know that I won't learn anything new between now and May).

So, while dragging my feet to class the other day, I got to thinking: how much has changed since my freshman year of college? And then I decided to compose this list. Don’t you feel like it was important to know my thought process? I guess I did because I told you. I could have just plastered a title on this bad boy and given you a bulleted list, but where’s the fun in that? Also, I added pictures, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you.

Since my freshman year of college, I have become older and wiser. I guess the “older” part could have been omitted because it is implied that it has been at least 4 years (closer to 6), but whatevs.

I am now old enough to get into bars and drink legally, but I drank WAY more when I wasn’t. In fact, if my freshman self met my senior self at a house party (which would never happen because freshmen bother me - they look like they're 15!), it would probably challenge me to a chug-off, or at least a few rounds of beer pong (as I have NEVER been good at chugging), and severely kick my light-weight ass.

I now have the power (and experience from so many times of puking in public and on random objects – one being the sink in a friend’s bathroom, where pinkish remnants (I was drinking cranberry juice and Burnett’s vodka out of a pitcher because there were no glasses - which explains the color and the reason why I was throwing up in the first place) were still there when I returned weeks later) to choose between getting smash-hammered-blackout-drunk and having a few cocktails/beers but still having a good time.**

**I sincerely apologize if that double parenthetical sentence (I think I made that term up just now) was too much for you, but there was no other way to explain. Now that I'm looking at it, I'm thinking it's verging on Inception with all of its levels. Sorry, back to what I was saying:

PS: I don’t usually puke confetti; I was just trying to make this a more pleasant experience for you.

So that is how I have changed outside of the classroom, now I’ll tell you how things have changed within the classroom (and I’m avoiding my homework right now, so I’ll include a chart for your viewing pleasure – you’re welcome).

*FYI: in case you didn’t know, you can click on the pics to enlarge them :)

Here are the main differences:

When I was a freshman, I was free to skip class whenever I wanted to do so for the following reasons:

1. My classes were all lectures with hundreds of students, so the professors wouldn’t know anyway.

2. All the professors ever did was show PowerPoints with the words from the book posted verbatim, so I could have (but never did) learned the material on my own.

3. The only thing that mattered for my grade was my performance on exams and midterms, so basically I just had to skim (not “peruse”, that means something entirely different) through the book the morning of the test and get an A or at least a high B.

As a senior, I am not allowed to skip class whenever I want to do so (even though I am paying a ton of money and I am an adult, so I should be able to choose when I show up and when I don’t – AND, the professors still do the PowerPoint-based-on-the-book thing) because:

1. There are less than 30 people in my classes, so the professor will totally know (unless she’s really old and doesn’t know anyone’s name anyway – even if they have had a class with her before).

2. My professors say that each class is important for my future and the job that I will have (even though I have now been taking practically the same class, covering the same material, for three semesters and – I’m not trying to brag or anything, but – I probably know more about the topic than the part-time professor who is teaching it – AND the professor will literally yell at the class if we aren’t taking notes on said topic, as if we are in middle school).

3. Attendance points are close to, if not the same as, the amount of points I can receive on exams and midterms (which is stupid, because if I can pass the exam that the professor has created without being in class that is not my fault, but the professor’s for creating such a simple test).

There are probably more things, but I now have 30 minutes to finish an essay, so I should probably do that...

Technology? Psssh.

2010-09-16T17:16:00.001-07:00

A lot of people believe that kids today are super lucky and spoiled with all of the technology that surrounds them, and they would be sort of correct because 5 year olds now have cell phones and iPods and laptops and whatever other techy devices they can get their Cheeto-infested hands on (in fact, Shannanigans was just telling me about a two year old she knows who can fully work her iPod to play Dora episodes on her own), but let me tell you all something: the technology today? Psssh. I’ve seen better. Growing up when I did was AWESOME because of all of the technology to which my generation was exposed.

Think Oregon Trail. The entire class fighting over the one Macintosh or Packard Bell in the entire school, which was rolled in on a cart for computer time, and we all lined up single file waiting for one thing: a wagon headed west.

Ok, so this picture may need some explanation. Here it is:

From left to right are the kids I remember from this class:

Michael, who thought he was my boyfriend because he would follow me around the playground at recess and sit by me at lunch (which I thought was cool because he would share his fruit roll ups with me).

Jerome, who was most likely my boyfriend because he had light-up sneakers and a bad ass haircut with the Nike “Swoosh” symbol shaved into the back.

Kayla, who peed her pants in front of the entire class one day.

Aaaaand then there’s me, who could be found wearing one red shoe and one blue shoe because I wanted to be just like Punky Brewster, and also because I had absolutely no fashion sense. In fact, if you asked me what the word “fashion” meant, I probably would have told you that it was what you did when you didn’t have the right tool for a job… you’d “fashion” a new one. I guess that’s what you get when you like to play in the garage with your Daddy.

Plus, I had bigger things to worry about than keeping up with the early 90’s trends anyway, like chasing the cute boys around the playground and teaching the girls that “C-r-a-y-o-l-a” is not how you spell the word “crayon” (which, my dearest friends, was supposed to be my “initiation question” into the most kick ass girl gang around in the third grade, but I, even at this young and innocent age, have always been a stickler for grammar and promptly informed the leader of said “gang” that she was dumb and should have been held back because she didn’t know the difference between a noun and a proper noun. Guess who became the new leader? Moi. That’s right. And my new recruits had to complete an obstacle course involving multiple cartwheels. Yay for physical fitness, am I right? Or maybe I just liked how doing a bunch of cartwheels in a row made me feel so dizzy…)

Back to the original topic…

Technically speaking, Oregon Trail was my shit. There was something magical about virtually packing an Amish wagon full of supplies and strapping it to some oxen, and then watching it slowly move from the right side of the computer screen to the left, which made each of our hearts pound with green and black pixilated excitement.

Good luck surviving that.

“Ohhhh… but if I bring the banker I get more money to spend” (said aloud in my whiny child voice, which I do so well).

Then there was Nintendo. My mom bought me a used SuperNintendo with a shitload of games that is still one of my favorite toys of my childhood. Why I ever sold that baby for a PS2, I'll never understand. I mean, really. Super Mario Bros and Duck Hunt, simple car racing without having to be a part of some underground and completely illegal business involving murder and grand theft auto, baseball where all the players look the same, and the best part: four easy to remember buttons. Plus, that thing never broke! If ever there was a problem, all I had to do was blow on it and everything was fixed! With these newfangled gaming systems they tell me I have to spend as much money to fix it as I do to buy a new one.

Then there were the crazy fads that we all loved so dearly for about two minutes:

TalkGirl Recorders, which I looooooved to leave turned on in my desk and see if I could catch boys talking about me when I wasn’t listening. I don’t think I ever really heard anything when I played it back.

GigaPets, which were fun for all of Christmas break, until we had to go back to school and weren’t allowed to play with them during class so my GigaPets repeatedly died. A small child can only take so much virtual pet-death before they become frustrated with starting over and promptly leave the stupid thing somewhere and forget about it (until 10-15 years later when they decide to write a blog about it… I miss you, Poopsie).

And, of course, there was Zack Morris and his sexy cell phone. That has “amazing technology” written all over it.

Hmm… what else was there?

Not Furbys. Those things are creepy!

Oh, and I almost forgot one more thing about my childhood: playing outside was cool.

Too Much Nature

2010-09-09T16:49:00.002-07:00

For those of you who have never been to the Great Lakes State (especially for you desert-dwellers who only know what grass is because you used to play outside on a small patch of it, which you called "The Green"), here is what Michigan looks like:

Except, of course, during the 14 months of winter; then it looks more like this:

Anyway, what I’m getting at is the fact that the Michigan countryside is definitely lacking in the blacktop and concrete department. I’m seriously right now, you guys. And I know that’s not the right conjugation of the word “serious”… I was making a South Park reference. Sheesh. Here’s another: I’m super serial. There is so much nature out there… it’s, it’s not natural (said aloud in my creepy Blair Witch Project voice).

So, Breezy and I were out at his parents’ house, which is a cute log-cabin-style house in the middle of BFE, and we were preparing for a party (which was AMAZING! There was a pig roast, tons of yummy food, karaoke, and a million other things that are so cool that you wish you could have been there), and Breezy’s dad suggests that we “help out” by trimming the weeds along the driveway. This sounded all right at first (it was the least we could do, right?), but what you don’t know is that this place has a driveway that’s a quarter of a mile long and is surrounded by a dense forest, (which is probably filled with animals, demons, and savages – according to authors like Nathaniel Hawthorne), so you can’t even see the house from the road. To unsuspecting travelers, it is as if the place doesn’t even exist. You could scream at the top of your lungs out there and I doubt anyone would be able to hear you…

(Cue scary movie sound effects that make you want to piss your pants, but you can’t leave the theater to find the bathroom because you want to see if the hot guy comes in to save the day.)

So there we were, each of us armed with a pair of clippers, trimming away the weeds one giant thorn-covered branch at a time. It wasn’t so bad at first, but as the sun went down (as it tends to do every now and then), the bugs came out. And not just the “oh, dear, there’s a bug on you” kind of bugs. Swarms of “someone get me an effing flame thrower so I can torch these effing bugs!” kind of bugs. It wasn’t pretty. The more we clipped the sweatier we got and the bugs started to stick to us.

The muggy heat mixed with the West Nile that was seeping into our veins, causing delirium, and before we knew it we had made it halfway down the driveway. That sounds like an accomplishment, I know, but don’t be fooled! That means there was still the OTHER HALF!

Fortunately, we were unable to finish and here’s why:

Close up of my sweat-covered face and torso, showing that I am the character with the largest boobs, so I will be the first to die in this horror movie.

Zoom-in on the thorn-covered, bug-infested, 6-feet tall weeds.

A twig snaps in our general area.

Breezy and I look at one another, fear in our eyes.

There is a loud animalistic grunt, which causes both of us to look back at the weeds.

This is what I think is in there:

There is a lot of high-pitched-little-girl-like screams and the sound of our feet hitting the gravel as we both high-tail it back to the safety of the porch.

We look at one another again, shame in our eyes, for we know not which of us was doing the screaming.

Things We Shouldn't Have to Deal with in 2010

2010-09-02T19:08:00.000-07:00

So, I know that I said I’d share some stories from my trip back home –I have some good ones! – but I’m feeling rather ranty lately, so I am going to complain about some things right now and share some funny stories a little later. Plus, I wrote this while I was home, so it kind of counts.

If you haven’t noticed yet, it’s the year 2010. Humans have made it through the first decade of the 21^st century, which is supposedly the century in which the TV show The Jetsons took place. Now, I’m not complaining that we don’t have flying cars and robots named Rosie to clean up after us, but a little evolution would be nice. I have comprised a short list of things that I believe we should be past by now. Enjoy.

Condensation: Everyone has been there before, casually attempting to take an innocent drink, when from the bottom of the cup falls several water droplets, which demonically find their way to your crotch and stay there. It’s humiliating because it gives the impression that you have pissed yourself at worse and makes it look like you have what Breezy would call “The Dot” at best.

One would think that with a society so advanced that vice presidents are getting robotic organs that the common people would at least get a condensation-free cup of some sort.

A most necessary divergence from the main topic of this doodle:

For all of the females out there who don’t know what I’m talking about by “The Dot”, it seems that men’s bathroom rules and occurrences often times involve a small amount of urine on your person. You see, since there is no toilet paper next to any given urinal (a luxury which, apparently, us women take for granted), they are often stuck having to think of creative ways to dry their peckers. My Daddy used to sing a song that goes something like, “to prove you’re a man, you must wipe with your hand,” but I don’t think that option goes over too well with the ladies, and I think he may have been singing about wiping something else... Anyway, another choice would be to “shake it”, but I have been told by multiple sources that shaking it three times or more is basically giving yourself a handy, and most people don’t condone public masturbation. So, when two shakes just don’t cut it, men are sometimes left with straggling drops bleeding their way through unsuspecting trousers. This is most noticeable when wearing khakis, as pictured below.

Satellite TV: I don’t even have cable, let alone satellite TV, because I watch all of my TV online, but while I was home I had the displeasure of experiencing this lame form of entertainment. Not only are you given a shit-ton of channels with nothing of interest on to watch, when there actually is something besides infomercials, progressive commercials, or Married with Children reruns, the signal goes out. Though satellites know no boundaries when it comes to traumatizing their users and will go out during any kind of weather, the issues are most problematic on rainy, cloudy, disgusting days – the perfect days for watching TV.

Squeezy Bottle Fart Noises: In addition to being a leading cause of embarrassment and trauma for people on first dates and twelve year old girls, squeezy bottle fart noises are a major annoyance to literally everyone. This is especially true when I’m trying to tell Breezy about this awesome idea that I have for a doodle that’s about things we shouldn’t have to deal with in 2010 and he is more concerned with smothering his pork in Sweet Baby Ray’s, even though the bottle is empty, and the nearly deafening fart noises coming from the bottle are covering up all of the good parts of my idea.

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaack!

2010-08-25T20:06:00.004-07:00

My trip home was amazing (thanks for asking), and I have so many stories to share, which I will doodle eventually, but for now I would like to share a short doodle about what is on my mind today, which will hopefully let you know that I am still alive and doodling and ensure that you haven't forgotten about me.

School has started here in Arizona, and, though I am excited to kick off my last year of undergrad, it is really effing hot. So hot, in fact, that there has been an “Excessive Heat Warning” every day that I have been back. Yes, that’s right; it is so hot outside that the weathermen feel the need to warn everyone about it. That is really cool of them to show that they care about us as we all sweat our ways from one side of campus to the other, but the warning doesn’t really do anything but remind us all of how effing hot it is. It's like Al Gore preaching from the Doomsday pulpit.

It has been proposed by some native Arizonans, with whom I have been forced to roam the desert, that an “Excessive Heat Warning Day” for Arizonans should be the equivalent of a “Snow Day” for everyone else. Granted, where I’m from it snows most of the year so there has to be at least a few feet of snow/ice/death on the ground, making it impossible (not just difficult) for a school bus to make its rounds, before they will even consider cancelling school, and even then sometimes they don’t cancel it and just laugh at us all as we slip and slide around the freeways avoiding casualties at every curve. In fact, my first driver's ed experience was on a freeway in the middle of an ice storm and I couldn't see three feet ahead of my front bumper, but my instructor insisted that I keep driving at a speed that felt close to mach from where I was sitting, my white knuckles hidden by a pair of fuzzy gloves.

Still, I can see where these Arizonans are coming from. In many states, a few inches of snow results in panic and school closings, and around here no one even knows what snow looks like or how it feels to open their mouths wide and sing “If all the rain drops were lemon drops and gum drops, oh what a rain that would be” while catching snowflakes on the tip of their tongues. I think that they have a good point about cancelling school as if it were a snow day, and here’s why:

When the winter is so god-awfully cold that the sun can barely even be found in the sky of gray and every single object outside (inanimate or not) is covered in a frozen white blanket, no one wants to even think about moving away from the fireplace, let alone navigating through the harsh weather. If someone is so willing to go out into the cold, after first layering their clothing to include thermal underwear at the base and a frumpy, far from form fitting, goose down coat on the top, they will most likely experience an atmosphere so cruel that any exposed skin will immediately feel as though it is bathing in acid, and birds are frozen to death in mid-air.

Similarly,

when the sun is all that can be seen in the bright blue Arizona sky, the heat that results is so hot that every single object outside (inanimate or not) is dripping with sweat and anyone who is forced to be outside is left dreaming of the next time they’ll get to feel a breeze from an air conditioner. They will wear as little clothing as possible, in the hopes that doing so will result in a lower body temperature, but are instead faced with intense sunburn on any skin left exposed by lack of clothing. The environment is so unforgiving that people without enough water can die of heat exhaustion while doing even simple activities such as waiting at a bus stop, and birds are cooked from the inside out.

So, I guess, if you haven't gotten my point yet, it's this: it is really effing hot outside and I wanna stay in my air conditioned apartment.

I Need A Bigger Bathroom

2010-07-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

GUESS WHAT?!! I got another award! I’m so excited, so let’s address this thing right away!

It’s the Sugar Doll award and it’s from Veritable Ally!

Thanks, Ally!

Ok, so for this award I have to tell you guys 10 things about myself, so here they are:

1. I have a giant bruise on my bum from an awesome river trip, which you should read about over at BSquared’s blog Bow to Brevity (which, I just noticed, is also BSquared) because it was fun and hilarious and she added some awesome doodles.

2. I did most of my growing up on a dirt road.

3. I am a coffee fiend.

4. I just right clicked “fiend” to see what the synonyms are and got “evil person”, “brute”, and “beast”, and now I’m thinking that’s not the right word. I meant I’m like a crackhead for coffee.

5. I wish women’s jeans all came in measurements like men’s jeans so that I would always know what size I am.

6. I’m usually too lazy to wear makeup.

7. I don’t like milk, but I looooove ice cream.

8. My niece Chels is here visiting me for about another 10 days and we are going to have a bLAST hanging out together since I haven’t seen her since Christmas.

9. I also have a couple more weeks of homework before summer classes are over, so between hanging with Chels and writing about American Ethnic literature, I might not be able to post.

10. THEN, after summer classes are over, I will be going home to Michigan for my BFF Nic’s wedding!!! I’ll be gone for two weeks and I’ll be out in the middle of beautiful BFE for a majority of that time, and I won’t really have access to acceptable internet, so you may not hear from me for a while.

Now, to pass this award on to others... who to choose, who to choose?

I choose some blogs that I like to read by my internet friends:

Mei at Diary of a Fair Weather Diver

Jitsy at Mind Starts Speaking

and some blogs I like to read by people I know in real life and I'm so excited that they started blogging:

Shannon at Sometimes I Just Feel Like...

Alyse at Narcissism & Other Adventures

Brittany at Bow to Brevity

Congrats to all the winners!!!

On a completely different note, I need a bigger bathroom. Usually it’s not too much of an issue, since Breezy wakes up hours before my semi-comatose body would even notice an alarm clock going off, but some days we both need to wake up at the same time… and get ready at the same time… and our bathroom just isn’t big enough for the both of us.

We sleepily knock elbows and fight for the sink like two zombies going for the same brain. We’re lucky that neither of us have been hurt, yet.

And then there are the days where my morning coffee kicks in and I start using my hairbrush as a microphone and dance in front of the mirror. This is fine when I’m getting ready alone, but when Breezy’s in the room:

Breezy (mouth full of toothpaste): “What are you doing?”

Moi (hyper and happy from the coffee): “Singing Eminem.”

Breezy (confused): “Girls shouldn’t ‘sing Eminem’.” (He totally did the air quotes around “sing Eminem”)

Moi (feelings hurt): “Why not?”

Breezy (thinks he’s better than me): “Girls don’t have enough anger.”

Moi (continue to sing Eminem without anger): “You selfish bitch, I hope you fucking burn in hell for that shit.”

At the time I was too jacked up on my dark roast to think of this, but Breezy sings some songs around the apartment that he shouldn’t have the right to sing if I can’t sing Eminem.

Like when he was obsessed with Ke$ha:

PS: Eminem, if you’re reading this, I love you.

He Jests at Scars That Never Felt a Wound

2010-07-18T12:34:00.003-07:00

I have a lot of scars.

I have one on my left arm from spying on boys with Apee on a dirt road. I flipped my bike and went skin scraping across the gravel, leg firmly secured in my bike chain.

I have one on my right hand from lighting fireworks and accidently throwing the lighter instead of the burning ball of physical pain, which I held safely in my small hand until it exploded.

I have one on my right arm from getting an alien spawn removed from just under my skin.

I have one on my forehead from tripping on a blanket, falling down a flight of stairs and bouncing like a ball the size of a small child directly into a table.

I have one on the back of my head from being born (yeah, I’m so awesome that I got a scar before I had fully made my entrance into the world).

The list goes on, but I think you get my point: I have a lot of scars.

Since making my initial scar-covered debut into this world, I have noticed that we all have scars. We may only have a few and they may not be as noticeable as a lightning bolt across our foreheads, but they are there.

Why am I writing about this? Because I’m thinking that if I asked you about your scars (which is actually one of my favorite “get to know you” conversations, and I’ll tell you why in a minute), chances are you’d be able to tell me how you got most of them.

I say “most” here because sometimes a scar happens before we have developed a conscious memory and therefore we would not know how we got that scar unless our parents told us about it (like the one on the back of my head). There is also the occasional drunk and disorderly scar that occurs while our conscious memory is smash-hammered drunk and blacked out while our bodies are still roaming around making asses of ourselves. We cannot be held responsible for the explanation of either of these scars.

However, the cool part about scars (and why I like to have conversations about them) is that they are physical proof of incidents in our lives. I hate to quote Papa Roach here (I really do), but our scars remind us that the past is real; just by looking at them we can relive that experience and even describe many of the details.

Ok, I am sorry. I definitely didn’t mean to get all deep on this blog, and I promise it’s leading to a funny story, but it is kind of interesting, right? Right?

[insert the sound of crickets here]

Ok, ok, moving on.

I also have a scar on my right ear, and here’s how I got it.

I was at cheerleading practice with Mrs. Kelley discussing the hotness of our athletic trainer. We were contemplating ways to ditch practice and go visit him in his office and just stare at him for a while (or, um, whatever).

One of the other cheerleaders had gone in to see him before with a pulled groin or something equally close to her “downstairs” and was bragging about how he applied the topical pain reliever, like Icy Hot, on her to fix it. We were all super jealous, until all of a sudden she started screaming like a cheerleader would if caught on fire, because what she forgot to mention was that the athletic trainer uses super mega ultra Icy Hot because he works with giant football players with brutal footballish injuries, not little old ladies with back pain.

So we were contemplating other methods which would not require intense pain, but would still result in a visit to the hot trainer.

Practice commenced and we were forced to practice a semi-dangerous dismount from a stunt, which we referred to as the Twist Cradle, against the will of our entire stunt group.

So, to lay it out for you, in case you don’t know, there are three of us girls holding up another girl above our heads with our arms fully extended. From there, we toss her further into the air, after which she would normally arch her body and then land all prettily in our open arms (cradle). Instead, we were supposed to toss her into the air, after which she would twist herself around in the air and then land chaotically in our open arms (twist cradle).

Here’s what happens when you force people to do this stunt when they are not comfortable doing it: all hell breaks loose and someone is getting kicked in the face, or dropped, or both. Cheerleading is a dangerous world, my friends. It is! It's actually statistically the most dangerous sport, at least for women. Anyway, so I bet you already guessed what happened next. I got kicked in the face. Now, many girls would bitch and moan and whatever whatever, but my stunt group was tough and we just went on for more forced practicing.

Until I reached up to pull my flyaway hairs away from my face and my hand came back covered in blood. I reached back up and felt that my ear was attempting to go all Van Gogh on me and detach itself from my head.

Mrs. Kelley took an up close look at the damage and diagnosed it as follows:

“Eew, it looks like a bloody vagina!”

Do you have any funny scar stories?

I Am Weak and He Is Strong

2010-07-15T00:38:00.006-07:00

Recently I have noticed that I am on an extremely slippery slope to complete and utter weakness. I know that I am a girl and I am only 5’3” tall (and I get this intense loathing feeling every time I even think about milk because we just don’t get along unless it is in very small portions and complimenting my cereal or cake), so I can only be so strong, but come on, man! I used to lift people! I used to lift weights! I used to be able to do at least two pushups!

But now it seems as if all of that strength is just withering away and I am on my way to hiring a big, strong, personal assistant to follow me around and do all my heavy lifting and difficult opening. Hey now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea! I will have to see if my student loans will cover this…

Back on track: I am weak (and not like my shit’s weak or anything, because it’s totally not), and I don’t know how it happened. I have succumbed to begging Breezy to do things for me because my feeble hands just won’t manage and it only takes him two seconds and he shows no sign of struggle. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. I don’t want my husband thinking I’m some weak and defenseless cunt who can’t even complete simple daily tasks.

I have decided to illustrate the crumbling of my strength with a doodle.

Enjoy, while I go find some dumbbells. Or maybe I’ll waste my money on a pair of those fancy shake weights…

Awards :)

2010-07-05T10:36:00.008-07:00

Look, Mom and Dad! My internet friends gave me TWO awards!

I can’t seem to find a cash prize listed anywhere, so continue to smile and pretend that it’s the thought that counts, like at Christmas when someone gets you clothes that you’ll never wear (that one was for you, Daddy! “It’s a damn coat.” Haha, I love you.)

JUST KIDDING, internet friends!!! A few days ago I had no idea what a blog award was or how I could get my doodling hands on one, and now I have TWO! I am ecstatic. Just look at me:

You can tell I’m happy because my dimples are showing.
There were even fireworks celebrating my awards!
That may have been a lie, but there were fireworks.
Ok, and I couldn’t physically hold onto my awards, so I’m doing it virtually. Deal with it.

Without further ado, I present you my awards:

My first ever blog award is from lalalalauren over at lauren vs. reality.

This award is titled “the versatile blogger” and, though I’m not sure I deserve it, I haven’t done any poems (yet), lauren definitely does because she’s also the genius behind The Musical Advice Column. Check her out if you haven’t yet!

Ok, so the rules for this blog award (or herpes of the blogosphere, as lauren refers to it):

1. Thank the person who gave you the award

2. Share seven things about you

3. Nominate 15 newly discovered blogs

4. Let your nominees know about the award!

__________________________________

Here goes… something.

1. Thank you, thank you!!!

2. Seven things about me:

1) I am going to try out a poem or two soon, so that I feel better about receiving this award.

2) I went grocery shopping today and therefore feel like I’ve accomplished something.

3) I love Disney movies and when I have a baby I will hold it up like Simba for the world to see, but not like MJ over a balcony because that’s just not safe.

4) I used to take piano lessons and recently found a picture of my child self online posing for my piano teacher’s album cover in the most embarrassing dress ever stitched.

5) I learned a lot from my summer classes this session, but my grades are certainly not going to reflect it :(

6) I eat tomatoes whole, like an apple, and my husband thinks I’m weird because of it (if you eat your tomatoes like this too, please let me know in the comments, or email me if you would like to remain anonymous: thisfreckledlemonade@gmail.com)

7) I have a terribly controlling sweet tooth

3. 15 seems a little crazy to me, and I don’t like the term “nominees”, so I’m going to choose a few winners instead– that way the winners know that I truly like their blog and am not just trying to fill the slots.

1) You’re Lucky I Don’t Have a Gun @ http://thingsiliketoeatandothernonsense.blogspot.com/

2) Amber @ http://nostomanic.blogspot.com/

3) Gnetch @ http://thankgoodnessforthegoodones.blogspot.com/

4. I will let you know soon, I promise.

NEXT UP: my second ever blog award!!! Second only by like half an hour or something crazy like that.

This blog award is from You’re Lucky I Don’t Have a Gun over at Things I Like to Eat. A blog about eating? Now, that’s my kind of blog. And it’s not just about eating, it is about other things too. And it’s hilarious. Hey, she probably deserves a “the versatile blogger” award! Oh, wait, I already gave her one ;) Check out her blog – unless of course you are a dull and boring person and want no awesome in your life.

It’s the “You’re going places Award” and it has pictures of places that I have never, ever been! Hopefully that means that I will be going to those places!

There seem to be no “rules” to this one; I just have to explain where I see myself in 10 years, so this is it:

I have absolutely no idea. I mean, ask my 13 year old self where I thought I’d be in 10 years and I would have never been able to guess that I’d be where I am now. In 10 years I have gone from small town girl with braces and a million boy crushes (the hottest celebrity crushes taped to every available wall space in my bedroom) to moving 2,000 miles away from my friends and family and becoming the wife of one of those boy crushes!!! So, with that in mind, I will attempt to predict the future.

In 10 years I will have a teaching job that I love. I will have a house, or at least a nice condo. I will have a dog and possibly a child (if not, I will be seriously considering having or adopting one). I will [still] have a husband who loves me. I will have a published novel (whether it is one of the projects I have going right now, I am not sure, but it will happen). I will have a jetpack. Rosie from The Jetson’s will be cleaning my house/condo. And, perhaps most importantly: I will be me, only older.

Now, I’ll choose a few winners for this award, too:

1) lalalalauren @ http://trashrocktour.blogspot.com/

2) Stacy @ http://stacysaysblog.blogspot.com/

3) Johana @ http://the-mercurial-wife.blogspot.com/

That’s it on the awards for now. Be sure to check out all of the winners because they are all amazing (that’s why I chose them) and they will definitely make you laugh and leave you wanting more.

Thanks again for choosing me, ladies!!!

Oh, one more thing:

I just wanted to let you know that I made a page all about my wedding called “Happily Ever After”. Click that bad boy to check it out. There is also a link to it at the top of the page :)

Public Transportation

2010-07-02T00:06:00.004-07:00

Has anyone else noticed how trying to be “green” sure feels like legitimately being poor?

I guess I can’t honestly complain, since the main reason I take part in public transportation isn’t to save the earth from global warming, ManBearPig, or whatever other looming apocalypses human day-to-day functions are causing, but because I am poor. No matter how much I like to pretend otherwise, my refrigerator is empty and my pantry consists of ramen noodles and cat food (because even if I can’t afford food for myself, those little fuckers have to eat).

Part of being green (or poor, whatever.) is this glorious thing known as public transportation. While there are a few different options available, they all pretty much suck.

First, there’s the ever popular bus or metro system. It sounds nice at first: air conditioning, seating, and will get you where you need to be rather quickly. But then the ugly side shows through.

Once you survive waiting for the damned thing in 100 degree heat (or the intense sprint you will be forced to complete if you are running late and therefore have to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone aboard by running like an idiot to catch a ride), consider yourself lucky if you can find an available seat that is not covered in piss or any other liquid. As the train/bus makes its way to your destination, you will no doubt begin to notice the usual victims of public transit:

From left to right:

Crying baby who may or may not have an adult present

Smelly homeless rock star

Head phone guy who apparently doesn’t understand what head phones are for because everyone on board can hear what he’s listening to, and it’s not pleasant

And a bimbo who won’t stop popping bubbles loudly with her gum

Another option is to ride a bike to and from your destination. This is a great choice because you can consider it a form of exercise for the day. Oh, and the wind on your face will feel pretty cool and you’ll finally realize why dogs stick their heads out of car windows.

PS: don’t try sticking your head out of a car window, no matter how good the wind feels. Cars go fast and it will hurt. Badly. You are not as badass as your dog.

However, in abiding by bicyclist rules of the road, you will be given a very small lane all to yourself. This sounds nice, but there are some drivers who just don’t think the standard sized car lane is wide enough, and will insist upon taking over part of your puny little bike lane as well.

Trucker Guy: “Nah, man. I think I need a bigger truck. This thing isn’t using up enough gas.”

If you don’t have a bike, and aren’t interested in obtaining one (even though they have some pretty cute/cheap ones at WalMart, which is where I got my cruiser for like $80), you always have the option of walking.

Walking may sound boring when it does not involve a mall, but trust me on this one: it’s pretty legit. Of course, you have to consider the distance to your destination, so walking may not be a good option for everyone. You will also want to find yourself an iPod or something similar because not only will you want to entertain yourself along the way, you’ll want to drown out this:

The sound of every Mexican (or any other ethnicity for that matter) man in a work truck honking and hollering at you, even if you look like crap and are not dressed in any way that would give them the idea that you would like to be hollered at. Now, I’m not from around here, so I don’t really know: are these guys just genuinely nice? Or are they actually trying to pick up chicks like this?

It's been a while...

2010-06-25T23:52:00.006-07:00

I apologize for my lack of posts lately. I have either been:

A. Captured by a ferocious pack of wolves and have been learning to live as one with the pack

B. In a far away field trying to avoid the AZ heat while singing "Little Bunny Foo Foo"

C. Drowning in an unrefreshing pool of homework

D. Giving up on it all, packing my bags, and heading (further) west

If you guessed C: YOU'RE RIGHT!!!

If you guessed any of the other answers, I am ashamed.

Anyway, here's a random update. This has been me for the past few weeks:

Drowning in British literature and "short stories" that are deceivingly long. Good thing I have respect for literature, or I'd be ripping the books apart, starting a bon fire, and making some effing s'mores with Reese's cups. (much yummier than Hershey's chocolate bars!)

Also, I've been thinking about drawing arms a little better... maybe I'll try it out for my next doodle.

While taking a break from homework the other night, I filled out this random Q & A for you guys. Hopefully you will feel like you know me a little better after checking this out, but I'm kind of doubting it.

Random
Do you have any pets?	2 cats: Cozmo and Dane
What color shirt are you wearing?	white. it has black and red on it, too, if you're wondering.
Name three things that are physically close to you:	a stack of 4 textbooks, my caboodle full of nail polish, and an empty water bottle. It has been an exciting evening, let me tell you.
What is the last book you read?	unfortunately I have only been able to read textbooks. Before these classes started, however, I was attempting to read Water For Elephants.
Are you or were you a good student?	I am and I was... except for when I feel like my time is being wasted and I'm not learning anything. Then I tend to slack off and find better things to do, like paint my nails.
What's your favorite sport?	Call of Duty
Do you enjoy sleeping late?	No. I'd rather wake up early, I just have this problem with opening my eyes.
What's the weather like right now?	Hot. Way. Too. Hot.
Who tells the best jokes?	My Daddy and Breezy are battling for first place.
What was the last thing you dreamed about?	I don't know, something about a boat.
Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?	I have been crashed into a few times. I guess that counts.
Do you believe in karma?	When I feel like it's on my side. "Yeah, that ass hole got what was coming for him." But never when it's against me. "Oh, that's just a coincidence."
Do you believe in luck?	Luck is for the weak. I got skills.
Do you like your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?	Sunny side up with hot sauce. mmmm. and toast. I wish my fridge didn't break and I didn't have to throw away those eggs.
Do you collect anything? If so, what?	endangered animals
Are you proud of yourself?	Is it bad to say yes? Yes, I am. And I'm proud of myself for admitting it.
Are you reliable?	Mostly.
Have you ever given money to a bum?	I believe I have. Not around here, though. These bums are inconsiderate. Plus, the bums where I come from have to live under the freeway and make fires in garbage cans during ice storms. These bums don't know what an ice storm is.
What's your favorite food?	Ice Cream.
Have you ever had a secret admirer?	hahahaha. Oh, have I got stories to tell you.
Do you like the smell of gasoline?	I do. It reminds me of working on cars with my Daddy.
Do like to draw?	I DO!!!!! But you knew that already. I'm not that good, but I like to pretend.
What's your favorite invention?	internets
Is your room messy?	yes. I'm only semi-embarrassed.
What do you like better: oranges or apples?	apples. but I like orange juice better than apple juice. I know it makes no sense.
Do you give in easily?	I don't understand the nature behind this question... do I give in to what? Peer pressure: yes. Temptation: yes. Nigerian Princess scams: no.
Are you a good guesser?	yeah. I guessed that it would be hot out today and it was. It really, really was.
Can you read other people's expressions?	no, only my own.
Are you a bully?	if you don't feed me I can become a bully.
Do you have a job?	hahahah.... wouldn't you like to know.
What time did you wake up this morning?	uh...11am.
What did you eat for breakfast this morning?	well, by the time I got up it was lunch.
When was the last time you showered?	last night
What do you plan on doing tomorrow?	relaxing with my husband. doodling, if you're lucky, and possibly some more karaoke.
What's your favorite day of the week and why?	any day that Breezy doesn't have to work because I get to spend time with him.
Do you have any nicknames?	tons! Lace, Lacey Ree, LC, Lace-Face McGee, HawkEye, Miss Marie (my parents call me that one), the list goes on.
Have you ever been scuba diving?	nope.
What's your least favorite color?	Hey, come on now. I'm not racist.
Is there someone you have been constantly thinking about? If yes, who?	Logan on Veronica Mars. When will he get his shit together? And I melt every time he smiles.
Would you ever go skydiving?	probably not. I'm just a big puss.
What toothpaste do you use?	Whatever is cheap and doesn't look like it will taste like dirty ass hole.
Do you enjoy challenges?	depends on what kind of challenge. real world/road rules challenge: yes. Fear factor eating cow balls challenge: no.
What's the worst injury you have had?	uhh.... a sprained ankle? haha I told you I'm a big puss.
What's the last movie you saw?	I think it was How to Train Your Dragon and it was amazing.
What do you want to know about the future?	nothing right now. ask me later.
What does your last text message say?	it says I'm not going to get up and check my last text message just for this stupid q&a.
Who was the last person you spoke over the phone to?	Breezy.
What's your favorite school subject?	English rules!!! XD
What's your least favorite school subject?	gym. god, I'm lazy. (and smart, so I never really had a problem with the other classes)
Would you rather have money or love?	let's try money for a while. Just kidding, Breezy!
What is your dream vacation?	tanning on a quiet beach, marg in hand
What is your favorite animal?	the penguins from Madagascar
Do you miss anyone right now?	I miss a lot of people right now.
What's the last sporting event you watched?	there was some soccer thing on tv at the bar the other night. haha :)
Do you need to do laundry?	I need to finish it. I always start it and forget about it.
Do you listen to the radio?	no, I listen to pandora.com
Where were you when 9/11 happened?	in my French class in high school. (yes, people really take French in some states, AZ friends lol)
What do you do when vending machines steal your money?	punt a baby
Have you ever caught a butterfly?	yeah but then I felt bad because the wing ripped off :( I'll never do that again.
What color are your bed sheets?	brown?
What's your ringtone?	I don't really have one.
Who was the last person to make you laugh?	Breezy
Do you have any obsessions right now?	Veronica Mars, Party Down, Quelf (not "Queef"), cheap wine with funny labels, finding fun new blogs to read, increasing my book collection (suck it, Kindle. you got nothin' on Goodwill)
Do you like things that glow in the dark?	only at night time. otherwise they're usually kind of ugly
What's your favorite fruity scent?	"fruity"? um... strawberries?
Do you watch cartoons?	sometimes. If South Park and Family Guy count
Have you ever sat on a roof?	heck yeah.
Have you ever been to a different country?	yeah!
Name three things in the world you dislike:	"the man", hatred, and Phoenix rush hour(s)
Name three people in the world you dislike:	the kind of ass holes that aren't still lovable because of their wit, trophy wives, and my loud neighbor
Has a rumor even been spread about you?	why, of course! where would we all be without rumors?
Do you like sushi?	YES!!! MOAR SUSHI, PLEASE :D
Do you believe in magic?	only the kind in Harry Potter, not the kind where you're sitting at a restaurant and some bozo clown walks up and asks you to pick a card. It's like, come on ass hole, I'm trying to have a nice dinner here.
Do you hold grudges?	only when I have nothing else to hold. usually I can find something better, though, like a furry kitty cat or a pillow.

Husband.

2010-06-18T23:21:00.006-07:00

I have the best boyfriend ever.

Ooops. I meant to say husband!!! (cue hysterical-pre-teen-girls-at-a-Jonas-Bros-concert-excitement and jumping up and down and a lot of "I know, right?"s, which I only let fly around other females because I can't show Breezy to his face or he'll think my shit's weak.)

I still can't get over the fact that I don't have a boyfriend anymore, but he's been replaced with someone eerily similar whom I am to call my husband. I mean, he looks the same, he sounds the same, he smells the same, and he still won't put his dirty clothes in the hamper, but insists on leaving them in a heap on the floor one foot away from the hamper. We have not yet found that horrifying moment that everyone warns new couples with that sparkle in their eyes about. You know, the one that signifies that our lives are over because we got married (OH NO!). Instead, we have continued living our lives together as we had before and only "growing up" a microscopic amount - and that's only because of how many papers we've had to sign in the past two months or so.

There's something special about squiggling my name across dotted line after dotted line like I learned to do in the first grade that fills me with a sense of accomplishment. Plus, it's pretty cool that after so many jr. high notebooks ruined with me doodling myself and my crush holding hands on every blank page complete with a cursive scrawling of "Mr. and Mrs. [Insert New Crush's Last Name]", I finally get to use my crush's last name legally (and with him knowing about it, which is a definite plus).

I have the best husband ever.

While some husbands might be concerned about their wifey going out to a dive bar filled with horned up wannabe cowboys and newly single white trash women for karaoke night with some friends (which was a bLAST!), my husband had his blanket wrapped around his body toga-style, one of my athletic head bands around his newly shaved head, and was whipping a long string at one of our cats (we're usually too poor to buy real cat toys, and when we do my cats just hide them from us so we'll stop making the cat/dog play fetch... or if it is a toy bird that sings when squeezed, they'll wait till we leave the house and murderously drown the damned thing in their water dish so that its beautiful song can never be heard again).

Pictured above: Breezethocles The Awesome (self-proclaimed) taming a vicious lion

Survey Says...

2010-06-15T10:06:00.006-07:00

In a recent poll, I asked which super power you would choose if given the rare but not entirely impossible chance to have one. Here were the results at the original poll end date:

Invisibility: 6 (win)

Time Travel: 3

Flight: 3

Super Strength: 0 (super fail)

Immortality: 1

Precognition: 0 (fail)

Telepathy: 2

Own a Power Ring: 1

Technopathy: 0 (fail)

Accelerated Healing: 1

Water Breathing: 1

Teleportation: 0 (fail)

$$$: 0 (fail)

Superman/Jackass: 1

Some of these results were shocking! (said aloud in my most scientific voice)

And I’m not sure if I need to be trained and certified or anything to label something a “fail” on the internet, but I did it anyway so any trolls out there can suck it. (said aloud in my nanner-nanner-boo-boo voice, and immediately followed by a sticking-out of my tongue)

Anyway… (and no, there is not an “s” on the end of that word – or a “z”. It’s “anyway”, not “anyways/anywayz” … so stop saying it that way) Anyway… some of these results were shocking and I’m not certain that all of the voters were fully informed on the details. (It’s happened in more important polls) So I decided to compile some information on the topic at hand.

There is a good and bad to everything, and super hero powers are included in that statement.

Here are some pros and cons for you to consider, along with answers to the question I know you’re asking: “What Would Breezy Do?”

Invisibility:

Pros:

Get through airport security, no matter what your race, without being fondled and embarrassed

Scare the fuck out of Criss Angel

Sexy Spying

Cons:

Have to walk around naked (extra creepy when sexy spying)

People might run into you (with body or objects such as vehicles)

Allergies

WWBD? Kill Criss Angel

Time Travel:

Pros:

Learn about history first hand/See the future

Ride a dinosaur

Prevent yourself from making stupid mistakes

Cons:

In the future humans are all cannibalistic wild beasts and the world is run by droids

If you showed up in ancient times wearing that they’d burn you at the stake!

Malaria

WWBD? “Go back in time to get the last word in every argument I have ever been in… ever.”

Immortality:

Pro:

Never have to worry about dying

Con:

In the future humans are all cannibalistic wild beasts and the world is run by droids

WWBD? “Gain the droids’ trust then work for them as a human hunter.”

Accelerated Healing:

Pros:

You would be a great organ/blood donor

You could be your own stunt man/woman

Cons:

People would find out about you and want to do crazy life threatening experiments!

WWBD? “Bar tricks”

Water Breathing:

Pros:

Be awesome at “Who Can Hold Their Breath the Longest” in the pool

Go searching for lost treasures at the bottoms of lakes and oceans

Cons:

Only works in water. (I know, right?!)

WWBD? “Go fishing the real way.”

Teleportation:

Pros:

Never have to be fondled and embarrassed by airport security again

Easier to lead two separate lives

Cheaper vacations

Cons:

One false teleport and you could leave a limb behind!

WWBD? “Get really fat, because I would never move again.”

Have Enough Money to Make Awesome Things (you know, like Bruce Wayne):

Pro:

You could make some awesome things

Con:

You would have to keep your identity hidden or you might lose your source of power

WWBD? “Spend most of the money on blow and hookers.”

Superman's Powers (but everyone will hate you because that's not really fair):

A: did someone seriously still pick this one, even with the disclaimer?

B: wtf is kryptonite, anyway?

WWBD? “Kill myself. No one deserves that amount of power.”

Flight:

Pros:

You could wear a sweet cape

Get places faster

Use the “Aladdin” technique on chicks and show them a whole new world

Never have to drive in rush hour traffic again

Cons:

Low flying aircrafts

No headlights for night time OR air conditioning for summer

You have to flap your arms to go, so it’d get pretty exhausting

WWBD? Nothing. He told me this choice was “dumb.” (because it’s the one I picked)

Precognition:

No one voted for this one, and I agree because you would see some pretty effed up shit! (Hi Mom. I’m trying not to say the “F” word so much like you told me I should!)

WWBD? “I would also get the first word in every argument.”

Telepathy:

Pros:

Make a lot of money as a “psychic”

Make a lot of money as the CIA’s secret weapon

Cons:

Hear when people are making fun of you in their minds

Hear when people are thinking about getting in your pants

WWBD? “Scream wildly every time I caught somebody in a lie.”

Own a Power Ring:

Pros:

Own "the most powerful weapon in the universe” which, as described in the most thorough Wikipedia page I have ever seen, will basically do anything you want it to do (even create duplicates of itself in case, you know, one isn’t enough).

Cons:

Live in fear of the color yellow

WWBD? “Create unbelievably impractical objects to use in my battle against evil.”

Technopathy:

WHY did NO ONE pick this one? You could communicate with and manipulate any piece of technology with your computer brain!!

WWBD? “Go to the internet and get all the porn… for free.”

Classy.

Super Strength:

This is perhaps the easiest to explain because the pros and the cons fit in the same doodle.

Pro:

You could lift heavy shit

Con:

You would turn into a hideous beast/man

WWBD? Throw an Elephant at Criss Angel

Gamer Geeks and Their Lack of Social Skills Should Not Work at Toys R Us

2010-06-06T20:04:00.005-07:00

Since my precious Xbox 360 has fallen victim to what could only be diagnosed as glaucoma for gaming systems (as in, even though I put in a video game, the Xbox fails to see that there is a disc at all and tells me that I’m not competent enough to insert the damned thing), I have not been able to play video games in months. I guess to non-gamers this might not sound very serious, and they might be wondering why a grown woman is even still playing video games in the first place, but that does not change the fact that living without an Xbox is a woeful existence
- especially since I was so close to beating the game that I was playing.

Naturally, I went through the five stages of grief:

I kept trying the disc repeatedly, hoping that the Xbox would believe me that there was a disc in there and finally run the game, all the while moving further into panic mode.

At this point I realized that my attempts at tricking the Xbox were futile, because I was never going to be able to play again. Of course it couldn't have been my fault, and it wouldn’t just happen randomly, so I had to put the blame onto someone else.

I would have done anything to be able to play my game again, even if that meant selling my soul to the devil. However, Satan reminded me that he already had my soul, due to an agreement we made in the sixth grade in exchange for bigger boobs.

I was at my lowest moment. I could not even see life beyond losing my Xbox. I became subhuman, living off of ice cream and bathing only in my own tears.

I saw a light at the end of the tunnel: PS3 prices were down and Breezy had been wanting to get one for a while. Plus, they have the same game that I was in the middle of playing on my Xbox. I figured I could get it and beat the game after all!

I tried to convince myself that I didn’t need a PS3, and that video games were for losers anyway, but then I found out that at that time PS3s were nearly impossible to get. So, since it was unattainable, I had to have it. (Perhaps GM should take a hint from Sony and Nintendo? Think about it. They could produce less cars at a higher value and charge more money and since there would be less of a chance of getting one their popularity would go up and maybe the auto industry could have a Mighty Ducks-esque win in this economy. Or maybe I’m just an optimist and it would only work in my dreamland of rainbows and fairies and Popes who don’t condone child molestation.)

Breezy and I spent some time researching and discovered that there was a PS3 at a Toys R Us only a few miles from our apartment, so we left right away.

Once the PS3 was secured, we made our way over to the games and each picked one to buy. The sales associate started to babble on about video games, obviously having nothing better to do, as there were no other customers in the store.

As he scanned my beloved game he said, “Actually, I hear this game isn’t that good.”

My jaw dropped.

I had devoted many hours to playing this game, had mourned my loss of the game for months, and was finally within hours of playing it again, and this 35-year-old fat ass nobody with Eminem bleached hair and a scraggly beard who probably still lives with his mom because he’s working in the gaming department of a Toys R Us wants to tell me that “this game isn’t that good?”

He went on to talk about what games are out there that are good: “There is this one turn-based… blah blah… teabagging N00bs… pwnage… uber fail… ftw… I’m a loser who gives cool gamers a bad name.”

Real-Life Scary Movie

2010-06-03T01:13:00.007-07:00

Do you ever have those days when you start out trying to do something fun and spontaneous, yet so innocent that it never crosses your mind that you would be in any danger… and then end up nearly being the victim in a real-life scary movie? Well, this was one of those days.

My lovely sister was in town visiting me and we were going though this book of coupons (which I got from one of those extra-hyper-because-he/she-drank-too-much-Starbucks people passing out coupons by the fountain on campus) for some ideas of what to do for the evening, when I discovered a grand opportunity. You see, my sister is older than me and therefore has more experience and is way cooler than me in almost every way, so I usually expect to seek her advice on cool things to do. What I found out was that my sister had never been to a hookah lounge before and – though I can’t say I frequent hookah lounges or am a VIP or anything – I had. I was so excited that there was something out there that is kind of cool to which I could introduce her, I decided that Sis, Breezy, and I would use the coupon and go to a hookah lounge.

So this is where the scary movie begins.

You know how when you watch a scary movie and there are parts like when the girl is in the shower and she hears a noise but she doesn’t get out of the shower and see where the noise came from and you’re yelling (mouth full of popcorn) at the movie screen telling her to get out, grab a towel, and RUN? Well, I have discovered that being the victim means that you can’t see the signs that the audience gets to see (like the girl’s kitchen window being open a crack and the bad guy slipping in and accidentally knocking over her empty bottle of cheap wine), so you don’t know that you’re a victim until you’re running away from the guy who’s trying to kill you and you die naked because you didn’t have time to grab a towel.

I digress.

So, in retrospect, there were some signs that this was a bad idea, we just didn’t see them. Like the fact that the coupon was SUPER cheap, which we took to mean “awesome”, but really meant “dangerous”. Or that when we pulled up to the place there was a huge empty parking lot and a guy who had to have been the manager (because he was wearing ¾ of a tuxedo) had his face glued to the window and was waving us in… yes, waving us in and we hadn’t even parked yet.

Or the fact that it wasn’t even a hookah lounge, but some trying-to-be-fancy restaurant. It even looked sketchy from the car. We thought about not going in, but the poor guy was literally begging for our patronage.

We walked up to the building and the manager greeted us. Then he called for some coked-out looking blonde girl with dark circles under her eyes to take us to our table. We had to walk through the restaurant area to get to the patio and I have to say that I felt like I was in the dining room on the fucking Titanic right before it sank – you know, when it’s empty but all of the tables are set and then the ship tilts and all the plates go shattering across the room. This place had creepy carpeting, old fashioned chairs, and each table was already set, complete with cloth napkins folded like tents. A cold shiver went down my spine.

The restaurant was empty, just like the one on the fucking Titanic.

We sat at our creaky metal table in our creaky metal chairs in the make-shift patio, which was a dramatic contrast to the fancy 100 year old dining room from which we came. We looked around, took in the dark and empty parking lot around us, the creepy-as-hell atmosphere, and gave each other nervous glances. We started to discuss leaving when -

– from out of nowhere, and I mean nowhere because it was a vast and empty parking lot, some guy who looked like he could have been the Tales From the Crypt guy’s brother popped up and asked us if we wanted hookah. We did, but we weren’t sure if we wanted hookah there. The flavors weren’t even on the menu. When Sis asked him what the flavors were, he pointed to his forehead and said "Zey are all up here.” She had to ask him to share, because apparently he thought we could read his mind.

We ordered the only flavor that we could understand from his thick accent just to get him to go away, and I was beginning to think that the hookah part wasn’t real and what was really in his mind was this:

I expressed my concerns for not wanting to be eaten by a handful of lost-in-time vampires or cannibals or whatever the hell those “people” were, and we realized that we all had the same concern. We immediately ran from our table – opting to just hop the gate and take the five steps to our car, rather than risk going back through the creepy restaurant – screaming and telling Breezy to start up the car and get the hell out of there.

We escaped, but barely. As we were backing away we saw the shadowy figures of the beasts in the windows and screamed again as Breezy put the car in drive and stepped on the gas.

It was an uneasy ride across the vast parking lot, since Breezy decided to express his concern that the sneaky guy who had come from out of nowhere moments before might also have the power to show up in our car.

No worries! We were not eaten. We eventually found a place (which was legitimately a hookah lounge) with big comfy couches and a plethora of eclectic decorations for us to gaze upon. We lounged around and watched music videos and my sister finally got to try some hookah. It turned out to be an amazing night… even though some skanky girl came in wearing a dress (probably meant to be a shirt) so short that when she bent over her asshole winked at us from across the room – but that’s an entirely different adventure!