I don't like that you're happy all the time

I have a really bad habit of associating myself with people who are crazy. And I used to say to myself, "Kelly, you let this happen again? How did you not SEE?" Well, self, I have taken some time to reflect, and I decided to make a list of key attributes that will denote a person who is straight up cray. I hope that this will help others to not make the same dumb mistake that I made over and over again, and that you will be successful in finding non-psycho friends/boyfriends/girlfriends.

When someone tells you they want to fight with you...

...they cray.

If someone ever says, "I've just been waiting to start a fight with you," run. Like, really really far away. I don't care how long you have been friends with this cray or how close you two are, people who pick fights do not make for good relationships. Fact.

When someone tells you they don't like something about you that you can't/don't want to change...

...they cray.

I once had someone tell me—multiple times—that she didn't like that I was happy all the time. And she asked me to stop...that's not even a joke. You would think that would be a joke, but it just was not. I mean, I like my life and so I am excited about it. I was not aware that being a happy person pissed people off. But alas, it makes the crays suuuuper angry. 

When someone judges you outright for something he/she has also done...

...they cray.

And also a hypocrite. If this ever happens to you, again, running away is your best option. I feel like I'm in Monty Python and the Holy Grail right now....RUN AWAYYYYY!!!

But seriously. Do it.

When someone tries to control your behavior...

...they cray.

If folks are telling you they don't want you to say or do certain things and it hasn't yet offended anyone else, tis not you that has the problem, friend. You shouldn't have to stop doing/saying non-offensive things for someone else. If they can't accept it, move along.

And just in general, if you have a bad feeling about someone, GO WITH YOUR GUT. I know, that's not like a concrete thing that you can make into a formula to detect crays, but this is where I have failed every single time. For every cray I've ever known, I've thought to myself, "I don't know about this person...but my other friends seem to like him/her and we do have things in common...so I guess it's fine." 

It is not fine. You will inevitably have things in common with everyone, and sometimes your other friends may have bad judgment. Perhaps they have not dealt with crays...I have. So, trust me, if that happens, say, "Ok, gut, I hear you. I'ma trust you." And maybe you will tragically miss out on an awesome relationship. But more likely you will luckily avoid potentially years of suck. Avoid the suck. Avoid it!

YOU GUYS

YOU GUYS. I have nothing to blog about.

It's been like a billion years since my last blog. But I don't feel as if I have anything to say.

Or anything coherent I guess.

So I will just write random things that I've been doing that are in no particular order, but which will still, I hope, make you laugh. Because that is what I am here for.

SEND ME YOUR GUEST BLOGS DAMMIT. (Roommate, I am talking to you.)

(Former roommate I guess...that's sad.)

I've been on a netflix documentary binge. I watched "World's Most Dangerous Drug" (yay meth!) and "World Most Dangerous Gang" (yay death!) and thorough enjoyed them both. Next up: "Auschwitz and Birkenau" and "Surviving the Cut." Super pumped.

Boyfriend came to visit this weekend. I miss him way too much when he is away. And it's funny, because I'm good for like five days, but I miss him in advance because I know how much it's going to suck at the end of the first week.

I'm pathetic.

It's not a big deal.

I better have the ass of a super model by like tomorrow with the workout I did today. Not acceptable.

Watched a movie I was in back in high school with BFF tonight because they screened three movies at the school...that was weird. Realized a couple of things. One: I really should have straightened my hair for the role instead of curling it cause it looked stupid. Two: I have horrible posture. Three: I look like an IDIOT when I run. My feet turn out because something is wrong with my ankles and I failed to correct it in my youth so now it's stuck like that. Good. I'm a regular duck.

Apparently my dad is coming to Austria to visit me with my mom and lil bro and NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL ME. See, dad got a new job in Chattanooga (will have to think of a nickname that's as cool as Knoxvegas...suggestions?) and couldn't get the time off work to come over while I'm studying abroad. But then apparently he could...so YAY!! So excited. Sound of Music tour in Salzburg. It's happening.

Tonight I am giving myself a spa treatment of sorts. I am deep cleaning my tongue ring by leaving it in a cup of denture cleaner for....it's been about 20 minutes now. I should probably go get that....hold on. Back. See it's great, because for you guys it's like I was never gone. But for me it took like five minutes. Ah, the beauty of Internet. Tongue ring is very clean. And it tastes minty. Hooray! I should do that more often. It gets the plaque buildup off way better than a washcloth and water. Sorry if that's gross. But it happens.

I burned myself on the very back of my left bottom mouth (left bottom mouth? Really? I'm not changing it.) where my wisdom teeth used to be and it bled profusely when I brushed my teeth yesterday. Who burns themselves on the back of their mouths? Honestly. What is my life. 

Made oreo butt cakes. Funfetti cupcakes with an oreo on the bottom and rainbow chip icing. It's as good as it sounds. Probably better. 

Ok well that's all. That's been my life since I blogged last. Oh, and I scrapbooked a shit ton. I am a scrapbooking machine. Good. Well, enjoy your day and stuff. BYE.

Acceptable times to be three years old

1. When you're with a three year old. Example: I met a little three-year-old boy named Cason today while my mom was shopping and his mom was shopping and we were bored and sat at the front. We talked about Power Rangers and argued about which one is the best and had a tickle fight. Best day ever.

2. When you're eating ice cream. It is completely OK to do that little bouncy excited thing on the first bite because it's so delicious. And the second. And the eighth. All of the bites.

3. When you just don't wanna. Sometimes you have to be an adult. Clean the dishes, pick up your mess, do your work. But sometimes, you just don't freaking want to do anything. So don't. Whine and complain until people tell you to GTFO. And go sit on Tumblr for a while and participate in a good hot sesh of doing nothing.

4. When you're sick. I am not an emotional person and I don't like to participate in the activity of crying, but when I'm sick, I'm the biggest baby you ever saw. I just complain and cry and lay on my bed like a pathetic sack of sad. And then I call my mommy and she feels sorry for me and makes me feel better. Because she's my mommy. And I'm still three years old to her. And it's OK. Sometimes you just can't handle the sickness on your own. 

5. When you can't think of a good reason to win an argument. But you want to win. Because being wrong is a sucky feeling. So pull out a "Yo mama" or a "Just cause." Do it.

6. When you reeeeeally want something. Puppy dog eyes, the "everyone else has one" argument, whatever got you what you wanted when you were little (with my dad, it was the logical argument). I know, we are adults and we have our own money blah blah blah, but it's much easier to spend other people's. There is always a reason why someone should buy you something. Because, great Scott, Vanessa, that dress looks simply amaaaaazing on you.

7. When you're with your best friend. That is one person that should not be judging you for your young child antics, whenever they may make an appearance. Whether you're venting, or making some face that defies all scientific explanations of body parts, or running around Best Buy for no reason at all...that best friend damn well better be right there being a three year old with you. 

Things that make no sense

The things that you are about to read about may not seem related. But they are. Because none of them make any dang sense.

"Gateway sexual activity."

This is in quotes because it's not a real thing. I am super embarrassed to be a citizen of Tennessee right now... they are literally banning all things deemed to lead to sex from schools. This includes hand holding and hugging. They can't even TALK about it. Couple things. One: Sex happens, and pretending like it's not going to and taking away all these little outlets is just going to make kids go apeshit in college. It's just like parents that don't ever allow their kids to see them drinking responsibly or to have a taste of alcohol. They get to college and it's like, I WANT ALL OF THE ALCOHOL. Now imagine that with sex...no good. And, two: Because sex inevitably does happen, people need to be EDUCATED about it. Abstinence-only sex education has been proven over and over again to be unsuccessful. And it only leads to unsafe sex and unwanted behbehs. Telling kids, "Hey, sex is a thing that happens, and when you make the very big decision of participating, use condoms and birth control so you don't get your eggo preggo." THAT, Tennessee senate, will lower teen birth rates. We can't teach kids not to have sex, because they're always going to. And we can't depend on the parents to educate them because a lot of the time they are uneducated as well. Sex ed classes. We need them. Gateway sexual activity? .....just let people hold hands if they're dating. Seriously.

Philip DeFranco's video that talks about Gateway Sexual Activity

Korean horror movies.

Specifically, A Tale of Two Sisters. Me and le BFF reinstated "Summer of Horror," in which we watch as many horror movies as possible in one summer, last night and watched this movie. It was really good, but we just didn't get it. We had to google it after and read the plot synopsis. And then we were finally like, "OHHHH ok. I got it now. She has Dissociative Identity Disorder and actually there was no one but her in the house the whole time. Way to not make that clear at all."

This is why Asians are so smart. Because they watch movies like that and understand them. As BFF said, they probably call it halfway through, too.

Racist comment is racist...

Soooo creepy

People who hate their jobs.

There are only a few options for what is going on here. One: They are in a starting position and just waiting to move on up to the job of their dreams. But if you know you have to start at the bottom, don't complain about it, yo. Do what you have to do. Two: They are just in the wrong job. The one that really gets me is teachers. Some teachers are just so rude and mean and impatient. Dude, if you have enough education to be a teacher, it is completely possible to get another (probably higher-paying) job that does not involve you putting students through hell. Don't get a job where you have to spend all day with kids if you hate them...people always remember the good teachers. I still go visit my faves, because they made such a difference in my life. But I also remember the ones that made me completely hate a subject because they sucked so much as people. Just, get a job where you don't have to be around people. Telephone solicitor? Toilet manufacturer? Desert explorer? Truck driver? Paint mixer? Master of frozen packaging? Diamond miner in an isolated location? Director of a movie in which the actors are all stuffed bears? The options are endless here.

People who don't take care of themselves.

I know that's a pretty broad category, so I will break it into subcategories.

One: Those with lack of hygiene. I know, showering takes time out of the day. I don't want to do it either. But it makes you smell pretty and look better. And I know, your water bill could already be through the roof. Take a shorter shower. Or find a lake. One that's cleaner than Lake Loudon...

Two: Those who dress crappily. For goodness' sake, if you are overweight, do not wear tight clothing. I'm not judging you or whatever. There is always a reason for people being heavy. But just...wear things that fit. You can't fit into the same clothes that Lady Gaga can, so don't try. Also, it has never made sense to me why people constantly insist on wearing gym clothes in public. Athletic shorts cost a lot of money, yes, but that's because the super-durable fabric needs to last through numerous workouts, not your daily life. Take pride in yourself and dress nicely. I always say, it takes just as much time to put on jeans and ballet flats as it does to put on sweat pants and tennis shoes. Maybe less, because there is no tying of shoes involved. 

See? This doesn't fit. At all. Think, "looser." Think, "If I can see through my shirt and these shorts are squeezing my fat out, I should put on a different outfit." People of Walmart

If I were my dog

My animals are odd. I mean, everyone's pets have their quirks, but mine are truly, truly weird. As I was sitting with my dog today, I began to contemplate what life would be like if I had the personality/traits of my dog or one of my cats....

If I were my dog...

Chief. His name is chief. If I were him, I would lick and nibble myself every time I got nervous. Which is a lot, so I would probably just be wet/chomped all the time. I would also sneeze any time I was even remotely excited. I would eat cat shit all day, erry day. And drink from the toilet. I would panic if there were more than two feet of space between all people ever. Everyone must be clustered (he's a herding dog). I would be able to jump twice my height. Perhaps thrice. I would consistently have hair falling off of me in chunks, yet I would never be any less hairy. I would smell like death less than two minutes after I bathed, no matter how much I scrubbed. Whenever it stormed I would shake uncontrollably and wander around looking for somewhere to hide.

Here is Chief in his thunder jacket, which makes him slightly less terrified during storms.

If I were my cat Pepe...

I would be abnormally large. Not obese, really, but just like a really big person. I would have a tiny, high-pitched, quiet voice and speak very rarely. I would get up and leave halfway through anything physically pleasurable, because even though I am enjoying it, I would rather be somewhere else. I would run away from people. I would be fascinated by lasers and attempt to catch them. I would eat only lettuce. I would love lettuce. 

Seriously, look how freaking big he is

If I were my cat Winston...

I would look like Jabba the Hut when I sat down. I would get really excited if you ever happened to touch a certain spot on my back. I would be balding. But I would love pretty much everyone. I would look after everyone younger than me and smack dogs in the face.

Straight up Jabba-ing, right there

If I were my cat CC...

I would be slightly cross-eyed, but quite loving. I would also be very petite. I would be afraid of everyone. And everyone would pick on me. 

Little cross-eyed kitteh

If I were my cat Tiny...

I would take girls' hair bands off their wrists with my teeth. My ass would get all shaky whenever I was in the presence of anything rubber, really. I would horde my collection of rubber things in a secret place. I would always be all up in your bidness. I would enjoy cuddling. I would beat up people, just for funsies. 

Here he shows his rubber fetish while playing with one of my elastic headbands

If I were my fish...

I would walk around all day aimlessly, waiting for food to drop from the sky.

Things that hurt, pt. 2, The stage

As promised, here is the second installment. I've been doing theater since middle school, and beginning in high school, there literally was not a play in which I did not injure myself. So....these are the highlights.

Freshman year, The Importance of Being Ernest. 

Ok, necessary background: this was being performed in a theater with wide steps for seats, but we switched it so that the steps were our stage and the audience sat on the actual stage at tables because it was a dinner theater. And we had three platforms built onto the steps. The girl that played Cecily and I had to go to the center platform for curtain call in the pitch black. During the dress rehearsal as we were practicing curtain call, I walked a bit too close to the edge of the platform and fell probably four feet. In heels. In a dress. Good times. The lights came up real quick. And there I was, spread eagle, bleeding through my tights. I developed a large, nearly black bruise on my knee that stayed there for a good long while. They put glow tape around the platforms after that incident. 

Freshman year, Into the Woods.

I was the witch double (she had to change from ugly to pretty in 30 seconds and so I went onstage in a dupe of her costume while she went and ripped prosthetics off her face) and I had to "faint," and the cast members surrounded me and I crawled off while she crawled on. I had to faint on this weirdly shaped wooden platform thing (damn you, platforms), and I frequently fell on the corner or on the edge, or even partway off the edge. My shins never quite recovered....and were made worse by...

Sophomore year, Beauty and the Beast.

We had a GIANT castle built, and during the scene where the villagers storm the castle I had to run up to the top and back down. Some ass hat left a piece of plywood over the top stair, I stepped on it and slid down the stairs and off the castle. Twelve feet, y'all. Twelve. My shins literally still hurt if I push on them too hard. I bruised them bones REAL bad.

Sophomore year, Dracula.

Ah, the cinder block. I was back in the fly cage helping move stuff that was in the way of rope access, and most of those things happened to be cinder blocks. Dunno why they were there. Because the universe was against me that day. But I picked one up to move it and dropped it. On my foot. From about two feet up. It was truly a lovely experience. I had such a colorful bruise on my foot....

Senior year, Oliver.

We had a rolling platform (Omg. It's like a theme.) that was huge and had on it two levels and a 70-pound old-fashioned stove. I had to jump on this while the people were rolling it on so I could be on it when the lights came up. I guess I didn't get on in time one night, cause they rolled it over my foot. And I couldn't do anything about it, cause it was a live performance. So I bit my hand really hard until the lights came up and then I did the scene and went offstage and found ice. The show must go on or whatever...

Ok....well I hope you enjoyed a glimpse into my clumsy life. I have many more stories where those came from. Let me know if you found them entertaining and I will do more!

Things that hurt, pt. 1, Life in general

Last weekend, the president of the music fraternity that boyfriend is in mentioned clumsiness. He said something to the effect of, "I can't imagine how it would feel to be a clumsy person. Like, you never know when you're gonna trip and all of a sudden face plant." 

Let me tell you, prez, it is not a good feeling. At least, I don't enjoy it.

I feel like I have a clumsiness disorder. It's not diagnosed or anything, but nonetheless I suffer from it. Is that a thing? Clumsiness disorder? I'ma go with yes, just judging from my own life.

So I will introduce you to the life of one who is clumsy, an account based on accidents. The first part will be injuries in my general life and the second part will be about my injuries received before/during performances. I hurt myself all the time, but it happens increasingly when I have to be on stage. 

May 2, 2012, 7:04 p.m. (Dates and times are approximate)

I have these hangers that hang on themselves so that you can create a sort of vertical column of shirts (or pants or whatever). They are pretty convenient, really. I quite liked them until yesterday when they ATTACKED ME. I was pulling the bottom one off and the one above it came along with it, even though that is not what I wanted, and made a friggin beeline for the cuticle/upper toenail of my next-to-smallest toe on my left side. It hurt SO. BAD. Like, surprisingly bad. I tell you what, I have had sooooo many foot injuries, but this one was definitely in the top five. But only after: 1. A horse stepping on my foot and breaking it, 2. Breaking the same foot within the month by getting it caught between a pedal and the body of a stationary bike, 3. Dropping a cinderblock on my foot (more on this in pt. 2), and 4. Breaking my toe via getting it caught under a door, not realizing it, and dragging it underneath said door whilst attempting to continue walking. 

May 2, 2012, 12:27 p.m. Damn, I guess this was an unlucky day.

Made chicken and dumplings. Carried it back to my chair without incident. Sat down in chair. Put computer on lap to watch YouTube or whatever while I ate. Turned on video. Somehow dumpling sauce spilled on my left hand. Hurt like a bitch. So I switched the food container to my right hand and went to lick it off my left hand. Mission partially completed when dumpling sauce spilled on my right hand. As both hands were in pain at this point, my autonomic nerves kicked in and I dropped the chicken and dumplings. The sauce spilled all over my pants and legs, further burning me, and also got into the trackpad on my macbook. So it doesn't click anymore. Let's review: burn left hand, burn right hand, burn legs, stain pants, break laptop. Damn, I'm good. Must be some kind of record.

Every day all the freaking time.

My desk chair. Boyfriend's desk chair. Suitemates' desk chairs. They all hate me and want me to die. They are slowly whittling away at my livelihood by tripping me up and giving me bruises everywhere. Seriously, I find bruises on myself all the time, and most of the time I don't know where they came from. I would guess that well more than half are the result of those stupid, evil, cad desk chairs. 

God's Nightgown. 

To be continued....

(PS: Send your guest blog to ket0015@auburn.edu. Looking forward to having a second one!)

(PPS: I suppose the parentheses aren't really necessary. Whatever. Tumblr: generalmelon.tumblr.com. Twitter: @ktsalt.)

                                          

Guest Blog #1: A note on weed eating

This comes to you via Laura Berkstresser AKA suitemate. I'm so excited that I finally received a guest blog!! Remember, if you have any funny stories or things to say/share, email them to me at ket0015@auburn.edu (or facebook message me, whatever). Here is Laura's story....

So, if you have never engaged in battle with a massive quantity of weeds, I have some tips for you.

1. First, make sure you know how to start the confounded weed eater. If you have not consulted the owner’s manual starting the infernal contraption will be a long and treacherous battle, most likely resulting in your usage of a few choice words before enlisting the services of your useless ever-helpful mother in a game of trial and error that lasts for an eternity.

2. If the accursed thing finally cranks up, remember that you should, in fact, start it at least somewhere remotely close to where you intend to use it. Otherwise you will be forced to run like a madman to the end of the drive where the weeds happen to be. If you have never jogged approximately the length of a football field with a running weed eater in your hands, I highly recommend that you avoid it.

3. Once you get to the weeds, you may want to consider just how deep the ditch is that they are growing in. If you are unaware, you may have to go over the same areas over and over again to reach the bottom of the ditch. Also, know that the wretched piece of machinery may decide to stall out on you and you will have to restart it.

4. In case you did not know beforehand, you should also be wearing appropriate clothing to use the preposterous device. You should probably wear long pants, sleeves, tennis shoes, earplugs and sunglasses or safety glasses. While you may think this is silly and unnecessary, you will immediately regret choosing to wear short-shorts, a camisole, and flip-flops. You will be covered from head to toe with tiny bits of weed that, when slung at incredibly high velocities, can sting quite a bit. You will also find bits of plant matter in your eyes, which is both painful and disruptive to your vision.

5. If you are weed-eating in a high-visibility area (say, near the side of the road) be sure that you are willing to allow passers-by to witness the spectacle your are going to make of yourself. Do not be upset when random women driving by in SUVs slow down and laugh at your pathetic attempts at lawn-care.

6. When it is time to put away the ungodly device you have been utilizing, do not be disappointed when there is a strand of thorny vine wrapped around it. You may wish that you had invested in gloves before you began the endeavor, since your hands will not appreciate their misuse. After that, you might have to wash down the bottom of the weed-eater since it may be covered in a layer of green grime from the weeds you just decimated. Don’t mind the greenish water that will splash all over your feet and ankles as you attempt to clean up a bit. You must assume that the next person who uses the wretched thing will appreciate that it is neat and tidy.

7. When you come back inside to write about the epic battle you just fought with the ungodly patch of vegetation, do not be surprised when you find that you cannot hear properly because you did not bother with earplugs. Also, don’t worry about the fact that your hands are shaking so badly that you can barely type up your account of the endeavor. It is totally normal to be shakey after wielding such a rough-running contraption. And don’t worry too much about the itching. It’s probably just your allergies and not tiny bugs that had been living in the weeds. It would be silly to even entertain such a thought.

8. Finally, if ever you find yourself getting the bright idea to weed eat again…DON’T.

Follow Laura on Tumblr at ilovemydobro.tumblr.com.
Follow me on Tumblr at generalmelon.tumblr.com.

English. Learn it.

I am going to help you.

Or, more probably, just rant to you, because I know that most of my glorious friends and readers would never make such silly mistakes. I should say before this starts that this post was inspired by Hank Green in this video here entitled Stop Embarrassing Yourself. I will address some of the things he did, and also some additional pet peeves of mine. Let's begin!

Affect and effect. Stop saying "The difference between them is that affect is a verb and effect is a noun." Because that will just confuse people and they still won't know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help them god. They can BOTH be verbs and they can BOTH be nouns. To "effect" (verb) something means to bring it about. Something's "affect" (noun) is how that thing expresses itself. For example: That dude has a strange affect because he consistently talks to himself.

Punctuation goes inside quotations. It just does (most of the time). We are not in the UK, so let's stop punctuating our quotes like we are. Here is the exception: If you are asking someone a question about a common saying. For example: Have you ever heard the saying "All's well that ends well"? All other question marks go inside the quotations. For example: Did Mary say, "I'll go with you?"

Semicolons are not commas. Or periods. They are semicolons, goddammit, and it probably hurts their feelings that you lump them in with other punctuation marks! Use them in these two instances: when you are using a conjunctive adverb AKA a bumped up version of a coordinating conjunction ish (like however, therefore, moreover, etc.) and when you are writing two sentences that are SO related that they simply cannot be separated by a period. Bottom line: the part that comes after the semicolon must always always ALWAYS be a full sentence. No fragments here, folks. Subject, verb, predicate. Do it.

There is a difference between i.e. and e.g. E.g. means "exempli gratia," and you use it when you are giving an example. So: She has many kinds of shirts, e.g. button downs. I.e. means "in essence," so use it when you are clarifying something. Think of it as being able to be replaced by "that is." So: That shirt is a poopy-looking color, i.e. it is brown. 

And just some general word misuse, and I misuse these too simply because it's so common, but just figure I'd share... The word "over" cannot replace "more than." Saying, "The stadium can hold over 40,000 people" doesn't make sense. Over is a preposition used to mean above. That's it. The word "hopefully" doesn't mean "I hope." It means "in a hopeful manner." So saying, "Hopefully I'll get into a good college" doesn't make sense either. What you mean to say is, "It is hoped that I will get into a good college." But that's awkward sounding, so we don't say it. "Further" is used for things that are immeasurable, and "farther" is used for measurable distances. "Fewer" is used when you can count whatever it is you're talking about, "less" is for things that cannot be counted.

I think that's it...I'm not even going to get into the whole "its it's" or "their they're there" dilemmas, because that's so middle school it's not even forgivable. Good....hope you enjoyed this. It just makes me so angry that I have to express it!!!