Update...

Well. Sorry I haven't written. I just haven't felt like doing much of anything. But tonight I finally edited the videos that boyfriend and I made the day before and the day after surgery!! Enjoy!

I would like to say here that oxycodone is in fact the main ingredient in Roxicet and that Percocet is the same thing is oxycodone. But for some reason I listed them all separately in this video...

So there is an update on how I am doing! Hope you guys are having a less painful and more fun December than I am!

Surgery...CATS

T-minus 3 days until the Tonsillectomy.

I feel a sense of impending doom.

I DON'T LIKE PAIN.

Must...not...cancel...surgery...

Anyway, I've been thinking about cats.

I love the shit out of my cats (all four of them), but honestly, where do they get their sense of what to do with their lives? 

I have made a sample lesson plan from Cat School. It is called "How to be a successful kitteh."

Lesson 1: The world is your scratching post.

Leather? Perfect. Faces? Even better. Planet earth is an itchy place, kittehs, and it is your personal mission to relieve that itch, no matter where it may be. Dig those claws in!! Dig dig dig!!

**Hands-on activity: Destroy the beautiful red leather sofa**

Lesson 2: It is a good idea to fling cat litter as far as possible when using the restroom.

I know they put it in that little box, but that is just where you poop. Place your poop in the box, then displace the volume that was filled up by removing litter. Kick, kittehs, kick like you mean it! 

**Physical activity: Squats and leg lifts to tone and strengthen hind leg muscle**

Lesson 3: Four a.m. is the perfect time to step on your owner's face.

There has never been a better time, kittehs. The reason they lie still like that for hours is because they forgot how to move. Thank god we're there to help them; they remember how to move when we gingerly place our paws upon their eyelids. 

Lesson 4: Anything can be a toy.

Real cat toys are lame. Truly wonderful cat toys are found in simple human things, such as ornaments, or rubber bands, or jewelry, or pipe cleaners. They won't mind if you borrow them for a while and bat them under the desk where your secret lair of hidden treasures lies. 

**Critical thinking: Choose the best cat toy from the following: Stuffed mouse, scratching post, sock**

Lesson 5: Sleeping is most important.

Sleep anywhere, anytime you can. During the day is best, because you must be awake in the middle of the night to remind the humans how to move. The best sleeping places include the humans' computer chairs, stairs, and the middle of the floor. This is doubly helpful because in addition to getting good rest, you are also increasing the humans' physical agility by making them dodge and step over you. This is their favorite type of exercise.

You must receive a B or better in each lesson to pass cat school and be a successful kitteh!

The Journey of the Tonsils

It is time for another adventure with Kelly. This adventure is called: "Come Along With Me as I Fear Getting My Tonsils Removed and Then When I'm Loopy and in Pain After."

It's a working title.

Six days from now, I am getting a tonsillectomy.

Dun

Dun

Dun

As per usge with anything that's not, like, brushing my teeth, I'm fuh-REAKIN out, man. So, in an attempt to calm myself, I have come up with some possible scenarios regarding my operation:

1. The knife slips from my doctor's hand while I'm asleep and he accidentally cuts a vital artery and I bleed to death.

Now, this isn't likely, but it is possible. And how shitty would that be?? "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Tsaltas, but it seems we've had a statistical anomaly occur. A rabid baby mouse got into the operating room and bit me in the ass, causing the knife to slip and cut your daughter's throat and now she's dead."

Oops.

2. My scabs fall off (yes, that's a thing, you have scabs on your throat after this madness) and I choke on them and die because no one is home, or someone is home but they don't know the Heimlich maneuver.

Now, this is even less likely because a) My dad totally knows the Heimlich and b) The scabs are supposed to be so small that you don't even notice when they come off. But sometimes they do bleed....

3. I bleed so much when my scabs fall off that I die.

Bleeding is actually the number one complication from this surgery, and there is a 3% chance (don't discount that, I am frequently the 3%) that I will bleed so much that I have to go back to the hospital. But what if I can't get to the hospital and bleed to death in my living room?? OR THEY DON'T HAVE ENOUGH BLOOD FOR A TRANSFUSION AND I DIE BECAUSE OTHER PEOPLE ARE AFRAID TO GIVE BLOOD LIKE I AM? 

4. I take too many pain meds and overdose. And die.

Hopefully I will be able to monitor how often I've been taking them, but you never do know how loopy these things will make you...

5. I get in a car accident on the way to the hospital and am afflicted with slight death. 

Although I am afraid of this surgery, I do think a tonsillectomy would be preferable to a car crash.

6. I get delirium from the fever that accompanies this surgery and forget where I am and wander into the street and get hit by a car and receive injuries including dying.

Hey, I don't know how high this fever is gonna get. It could get THAT high. I DON'T KNOW. DON'T JUDGE ME.

7. Everything is fine.

This might seem like the most likely scenario, but you never know. It COULD be the case that I go home and my throat hurts really bad for a couple of days but I don't bleed and don't have a high fever and heal fine.... 

OR A RABID BABY MOUSE COULD BITE MY DOCTOR IN THE ASS. 

From Robin to spiders

Since I cannot possibly blog all of the things, I am going to overview my semester for you. In case you were wondering about my life. Let's be honest, you were. I'm pretty freaking fascinating. Or something.

A. How I Met Your Mother.

Boyfriend and I watch this frequently. Probably more frequently than we should. But I can't HELP it!! I wanna be like Robin! All the boys like her and she's so pretty and funny and she's a FREAKING POP STAR. I WANT TO GO TO THE MALL WITH YOU TODAY, ROBIN.

B. Mental disorders.

Oh yes. Abnormal Psychology. We talked about schizophrenia and depression and Dissociative Identity Disorder and pedophiles and all SORTS of fun things!! It was ballin'. Minus Poop. This is the class that Poop was in. And no one likes Poop. Speaking of, she wasn't in our final today, which means a) she had more than two finals today and had to take it at an alternate time, or b) she was late and didn't get to take it and therefore failed. I'm a terrible person, but I'm hoping for b. 

C. Inflicting pain on people.

I did this in lab once a week for six hours. I pushed a scary looking device in between peoples' knuckles until they told me to stop. But sometimes they DIDN'T. And so my triceps are sexual now because it's really hard to push down with 633 KiloPascals of pressure. I am strong like bull!

D. No sickness!!! Woohoo!!!!

Seriously, every semester since I've been in college, sickness has knocked me on my ass for at least a week. But somehow I evaded sickness's cold and terrible embrace. I HAVE DONE IT! All of my roommates got sick, boyfriend got sick, most of my friends got sick, and I was as well as a thing that is well. BOOSH.

E. Game Show Network.

You guys. It's bad. I feel like I am personal friends with Steve Harvey now because of how often I watch GSN. But it's sooooo gooooood.

F. Asylum. 

Roommates' and I's new addiction. It is so wonderful (and as you know, I love me some Kit hothothothothot). And now I have to watch it alone for a month :((( I'm scared for next week, because I will be loopy on drugs from getting my tonsils out and it will probably really terrify me. It's OK. I'll cuddle with my cats.

G. I ran for two weeks.

I was really proud! And boyfriend and I have decided (again) that we will work out together, so perhaps I can run for real this time!

H. Gunshots in Creekside. 

Last night there were gunshots outside my condo. As far as I know, no one died, but everyone and their moms ran outside and gathered in the street to discuss the happenings. And then we called the cops. I don't think anything actually happened. Damn hooligans shooting off their firearms at 10 o'clock at night.

And finally...

I. There was a spider in my shower last night.

THERE WAS A SPIDER IN MY SHOWER. WHILE I WAS IN THERE. NAKED. WE WERE BOTH NAKED. Don't worry, nothing happened. BUT SERIOUSLY. DA FAQ. I CLEAN THAT SHIT EVERY WEEK. IT IS NOT A SPIDER HOME. IT'S NOT EVEN COLD OUTSIDE!

That is all. Sorry I yelled.

Celebrity Hit List

Hit as in, I'd hit that. Like in a sexual way. Ahem. Good. Here it is:

1. Bradley Cooper.

Oh Bradley. You are SO SEXUALLY ATTRACTIVE. Have you seen you?? Like, it's real good. I just want to touch your scruffy mcscruff beard and love your hot bod.

2. Matt Damon.

I have loved you for so long it's insane. You definitely hold the record for longest Hollywood crush. Plus, you're a family man (it's OK, I won't tell your wife and kids, shhhh).

3. Katy Perry.

I mean, really. You are good at singing and playing guitar and writing songs and also our boobs are the same size. Match made in heaven!

4. Ke$ha.

Ooo girl. Girl. You mah girl, girl. Thank you for being that slutty white girl rapper that we never knew we wanted. But now we do. I do. I want you.

5. Will Ferrel.

Dude, for real. Funny always wins. When people ask what traits you're looking for in a partner, people are always like, "Trust!" or "Honesty!" or "Kindness!" Wrong. Hilarity. If you're not funny, I don't want to date you. And you, sir William, you make me giggle so hard. I don't care that you're as old as my dad and have terrifying chest hair. I'm DTF.

6. Neil Patrick Harris.

I know, I know, you're gay. But you're also super hot. And REALLY good at singing. So....you may have me.

7. Dane Cook.

I don't care what anyone says. I think you're hilarious and awesome. And I love you. What? Who said that?

8. Chester Bennington.

Literally, dude, you could just scream for a while and I would be happy. Hothothothothot. And actually, let's throw Adam Levine in there and have an excellent musical experience....if you know what I mean.

9. Dude who plays Kit in American Horror Story Asylum.

What is this man's name? I forget. And I don't feel like googling it. Ok fine, I will. Evan Peters. Happy?  He. Is. So. Attractive. I'm just done. Roommates and I sit rapt with attention whenever he is on screen in Asylum. To much sexy.

Agree? Have someone to add? Tell meh!

Finals and Jesus

Remember when I used to post every day?

I know. I suck. I just stopped thinking of funny shit to post.

I try, I do! Sometimes I write an entire blog and then it's not even that funny and so I delete it. Sometimes I do post it, and then I feel bad about myself because it's not up to par. And both of those are losing situations, so I got into the habit of just not writing unless I have a good idea.

A lot of bloggers do that. They say they'll only post if they have something good to say so that they can always have good material.

I have decided I disagree. Most of the time for me when I'm writing, whether it be funny or not, I have to get through a time of shit writing to get back to the good stuff. And I just have to keep writing regardless.

So today I am just going to share some funny tidbits.

Tidbit #1: I have a final tomorrow at 8 a.m. And I've been studying for it for a couple of days. I went to a friend's house all day yesterday, and even though the majority of our time was actually not spent studying, due to the SEC championship and videos of puppies and Elf, I did make some good progress. I just brought over my binder for abnormal psychology and made color-coded charts and things.

So tonight, I got an email from my cognitive psychology professor. And he said, "Grades will be posted tonight for the semester. Good luck on your final tomorrow!"

And my heart went, "Beat. Beat. Beat, beat, beatbeatbeatbebebebebebefuck," and my stomach went, "I'm going to fall to where your colon should be," and my voice said, "Oh no. Oh no no no no no."

I studied for the wrong final. I STUDIED FOR THE WRONG FINAL. So then I had a mild mental breakdown and simultaneously shed a tear of sadness and laughed at my own stupidity.

I am not prepared.

Tidbit #2: Do you have a twitter? If so, you need to follow these people:

Jesus on twitter

This girl

Seriously. I about peed my pants laughing when my friends found these two Internet gems. We may have spent upwards of 20 minutes looking at their pages.

Ok. Well that's all for now.

Hope you're better prepared for your finals than I am. And if you're not, I hope you're studying for them and not writing a blog like I am.

Good day.

Giving thanks and stuff

Thank you, family, for being as crazy and weird as I am, so I know I'm never alone. Thank you for keeping me fed (STUFFED) every day, and especially today. 

Thank you, daddy, for making me a worry wart—because at least I'm conscientious and always on time—and for giving me the gift of MUSIC! And thank you for at least attempting to teach me to drive a stick shift.

Thank you, momma, for helping me be able to relax when that worrying gets too pesky, and for also giving me the gift of music, and for always singing show tunes with me!

Thank you, lil bro, for making me look younger than I actually am (not that I'm old) and for playing Polly Pockets with me when all my friends were busy.

Thank you, boyfriend, for ten-second tickle fests. Thank you for MKMKM (where did that go?? We need to bring it back!) Thank you for five-hour skype calls and thinking I'm beautiful.

Thank you, Peeja Peej, for always inspiring me and always being there for me. And also for watching scary movies with me. 

So now that we got all the mushy stuff out of the way......

Thank you, Pizza Hut, for stuffing your pizza crusts with delicious, warm, gooey cheese.

Thank you, Jimmy John's, for putting guacamole on my favorite sandwich. 

Thank you, memory foam, for the comfort you grace my head with each and every night.

Thank you, Kroger, for supplying me with avocados every week.

Thank you, Cheez its, for your great variety in types of snack mix (original wins every time though!)

Thank you, obesity, for making me look small.

Thank you, candles, for your wonderful smells that caress my nose holes when I light you.

Thank you, birth control, for preventing pregnancy like you do. That's really nice of you.

Thank you, Charmin Ultra, for being soft. After experiencing that crap they use in Europe, I am doubly grateful for your 2-ply excellence. 

Thank you, heart, for beating.

Thank you, brain, for thinking and being relatively intelligent, even though a lot of the time you really piss me off with your constant worrying. Srsly, cut it out.

Thank you, puppies, for making me happeh.

Thank you, tongue ring, for making that weird crack in my tongue just a little bit less obvious.

Thank you, Tiger Transit, for at least getting me TO campus quickly.

Thank you, hips, for being GIGANTIC, because maybe birth will be easy.

Thank you, Oreos, for being a thing. Especially when you're in a milkshake. 

Thank you, Obama, for being so adorable with your wife. (If you have not seen the photo series called, "Barack and Michelle being adorable in the White House," look that shit up. Now.)

THANK YOU, COWS, FOR BEING THE GREATEST ANIMAL EVER. YOUR AWESOMENESS CAN NEVER BE SURPASSED. YOU ARE ADORABLE AND ALSO HAVE UDDERS. ALSO, CHEESE.

And to my boobies: Thanks, ladies, for just being you. You're the best.

The time I sniffed ammonia salts: OOTD flashback

I don't know if this is going to be a thing....but I was thinking today about "One of Those Days" that I had a long time ago....so I decided to share it in an OOTD flashback!

So I came home today for Thanksgiving break, and within an hour of being in my house my throat was sore and I was coughing and my eyes were itchy. And the reason is: I am allergic to all things, including cats (of which we have four) and dogs (of which we have one, but he sheds a TON). So this is the story of the discovery of my allergies. I promise it's better than it sounds.

I got an allergy test when I was about 10. It was one of those ordeals where you go lay on a doctor bed thing and they punch a bunch (RHYME) of little needles in your back to see what you're allergic to. It didn't really hurt that bad, and I was only slightly allergic to cats and grass.

Then in high school, I was sick, like, alllllll the damn time. The issue was that when I got sick, I would always lose my voice, and I was big into choir and theater, and so I kind of needed that. After exhausting all other kinds of tests, my dad was like, "Hey, you haven't had an allergy test in seven years. Let's try that." And it wasn't that bad the first time, so I thought it would fine.

(Life hint: NEVER BASE EXPECTATIONS ON HOW SOMETHING WAS THE FIRST TIME.)

So I get an appointment at the allergy clinic at UT and go in on some random school day. And when I get called into the office, a gruesome sight greets me: there are two trays of 60 something needles sitting next to the patient chair. And they are all for me. Yay.

This allergy test did not use the little punchy things. Rather, I received 65 individual actual shots. I am horribly afraid of needles and shots, so to say the least, things did not go well.

The nurse started on my left arm at the top, and when she reached the bottom of my upper arm (she somehow fit half the shots in that area), the entire thing was like one gigantic mosquito bite and it was red and itched like nothing I have ever experienced before in my liiiiife.

And she measured them all with this weird circle millimeter template, and got this look on her face like, "Damn." But she proceeded to my right arm. And as she started those shots, I started to feel really funny. And I finally said something about it, and she was like, OK sit back and try to breathe slowly. And then I passed the fuck out and the next thing I know they're shoving ammonia salts under my nose (had no idea those still existed).

And I had had such a severe allergic reaction that I had to leave and come back later in the week to finish the test cause it messed all my shit up. Obviously. I fainted. And if you just saw my arms you would think I was a swol football player.

And when I finally was able to endure the pain and itching to finish the test, my doctor comes in the room and says, "Well....I do have some good news. We figured out why you're sick all the time."

"We tested you for 65 things and...you are not allergic to 5."

So I was actually allergic to more than 90 percent of the things they tested me for. And I am severely allergic to cats, dogs, and most trees and grasses.

Hoo-RAY.

So then I got six shots a week for half a year, and now I'm FINALLY down to two shots every three weeks. And I don't lose my voice as much anymore. So that's good.

The downside is that because I'm so allergic to the shit they're putting into me, my shots usually hurt and itch like crazy, sometimes for two or three days. And a lot of times they end up looking like this:

And this one was the worst it ever was. It's not the part at my very upper arm that's red, but the giant white swollen thing that's outlined in red:

So...yeah. That was one of those days that turned into a series of one of those shots. Except those shots happened twice a week. And three in each arm. 

I take a lot of benadryl.

Minute to do the weirdest shit you've ever heard

I have an addiction. Luckily it's not something that's, like, hurting my internal organs. At least as far as I know...But this addiction is Game Show Network. It's really bad. 

But it's soooooooo good!!

Anyway, there's this show....Minute to Win it. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? And they make them do the oddest things...some examples:

Don't Blow the Joker is a game where you have to blow a deck of cards that are balanced on top of a bottle off of said bottle, but you can't blow the joker, which is the last card in the deck.

Candy Elevator is a game where you have to get three M&Ms from the floor to your mouth. The candy is placed on two pencils that are stuck together, and these pencils have string tied on the ends, and then you put the string around your ears and pull it and with this makeshift pulley you have to get the candy into your mouth.

Seriously. Who thinks of this shit??

Roommate and I were watching this the other day and were wondering how you think of such ridiculousness. So I decided to brainstorm some ideas for games that could be on Minute to Win it.

PAT DAT: In this game, you have to balance on a 6-square-inch platform on one foot for 20 seconds while simultaneously patting your head and rubbing your belly

OH YEAH: In this game, you have to bend over backwards as far as you can and fill your belly button with Kool Aid and do a lap around the stage without it falling out.

DON'T FORGET WYOMING: In this game, you have to smoke a joint and then attempt to eat a candy necklace off of a naked woman while naming all of the capitals of the American states. 

OCEANS ELEVEN: In this game, you have to carve a bar of soap made of seaweed and lye into the shape of George Clooney's face without using a knife. Available on the stage will be shark teeth, sharpened pencils, bobby pins, and shoe laces.

WOO-WOOHOO: In this game, you have to complete a race in Mario Kart and finish in fourth place without touching any mystery boxes. You must do this using only one hand for the controller, and use the other hand to tickle a monkey.

SUSHI BRAID: In this game, you have to give a child corn rows using only chopsticks.

If you're out there, GSN, I give you my full permission to use any of these on your show. I think it would really give your contestants a good challenge. 

Fuuuuuuuuu-

Coming at you today with a video.

Would love some constructive feedback! This is my first time doing a skit-like video, as opposed to a more vlog-type thing. Any opinions? Is it excellent? Does it suck? Should I stick to my day job? Comment here or on the facebook and let me know :)

President Tsaltas

Oh hello.

If you have a Facebook—which come on, you do—you've likely been BOMARDED over the past month or more with obnoxious political posts. Now, I am all for voting, and I strongly believe everyone should do it, because it's your freaking right and stuff. But people have gotten a little too serious about this election for my taste. So I am here to lighten things up.

This is what my platform would look like if I were running for president. You can see that I am focusing on the important stuff here.

ETIQUETTE: 

Bad table manners are hereby made illegal. I will create new jobs by stationing Cotillion-trained uniformed officers in every eating establishment to make sure you:

• Chew with your mouth closed.
• Keep your elbows off the table.
• Don't scrape your silverware against your teeth. (This is bad for your enamel and it makes a horrible screeching sound. Use your lips, please.)

DRESS:

Nike Clause: Exercise clothes are henceforth unacceptable attire in public unless you are actually exercising. In which case, good for you! I salute your cardiac health! Forbidden clothing includes:

• Nike shorts (these are completely forbidden from October to March, even if you are exercising).
• Oversized t-shirts and/or t-shirts with cutouts. 
• Exercise shoes (converse, VANS, and other such sneakers are exempt).

Pants Clause: Leggings are no longer tolerated as an acceptable alternative to pants. If you are wearing leggings, you must be wearing one of the following:

• A dress.
• A tunic top.

Furthermore, this dress or tunic top must completely cover you bottom. Furtherfurthermore, there will be a weight limit placed on leggings. This weight limit will extend to ALL OTHER TIGHT CLOTHING. Current officers will be trained to spot and arrest offenders of these clauses.

OBNOXIOUS NOISE:

I will implement nation-wide "quiet hours" which all citizens must adhere to out of courtesy for their fellow man. 

Night clause: It is considered rude to be making noise after 11 p.m. or 10 p.m. if you live in an area heavily populated by families. Violations of the noise policy include, but are not limited to:

• Screaming.
• Loud talking.
• Loud giggling/snickering/laughing/chortling.
• TV volume loud enough to hear outside the room of the actual television set.
• Music loud enough to hear outside the room/car in which it is playing.
• Honking car horns.
• Beating tribal drums in the street.

Day clause: It is considered rude to be making noise before 9 a.m. REGARDLESS OF YOUR RESIDENTIAL AREA. Violations of the noise policy include the above, with the following additions:

• Leaf blowing
• Construction work
• Yard work

Again, officers will be stationed in all residential areas to enforce these policies. In addition, Auburn University maintenance workers will receive a stern talking to before these policies are enforced, just to make sure they REALLY get it this time.

DUMB-DUMB RULE:

If you ask a stupid question (yes they do exist, and they are defined as: A question which has an answer that should be common sense) or make a stupid comment, you will be slapped. All American citizens may enforce this rule at their discretion.

Thank you for your support of my candidacy. If you feel anything has been left out, please contact my people. You can do this by leaving a comment here or on my Facebook page. 

VOTE FOR KELLY!

Babies.

So...I went home this weekend.

And it was excellent. I miss my fams and my pets while I'm at school.

But while I was there, I found out something that seriously pissed me the hell off.

Background: In the latter part high school, I hung out in a group of three: me and my two best friends. I was super close with them. They were hardcore Christians, but they still accepted me and didn't judge me, which was awesome. And I didn't judge them, obviously, because I was friends with them.

But one day the summer before college, I brought over some tarot cards I'd received as a gift. I thought they were kinda cool, so I pulled them out to show them. And they freaked the hell out and didn't talk to me the rest of the night. So I got up super early and left.

It was awful, because they were my BFFs and it sucked that they judged me like that. It would have been cool if it was just like, "That's really cool that you found something that you might like, but we're not into that. Let's do something else." But no. Suckage.

So that was the end of a friendship.

This weekend, I found out that yet ANOTHER person I knew in high school had a baby. She is also one of their very best friends and goes to their church.

And do you know what?? They were so damn happy for her. There was no judgment at all. So I guess it's OK if you sin by having sex before marriage AND a baby, but to look at tarot cards? That's seriously fucked up.

It's not like tarot cards are even like satanic or anything terrible. They're just for fun, or at least they were for me, and I made that clear.

That just pissed me off. Why are people so happy for all the young people that are having babies based on an accidental pregnancy? It should be embarrassing. It IS embarrassing. Gone With the Wind got it right. You should probably try your hardest to hide that shit instead of celebrating a mistake that is so easily prevented.

Rant over.

What is this feeling??

This is based loosely on personal experience.

Scenario 1: You first feel this probably after you wake up one morning. You're washing your face, and then you notice that something isn't right. It kind of feels like there's a little tightness—maybe a dull pain. And you think, "Dammit! No! It can't be!" But after feeling around, you confirm that it, in fact, is.

What is this feeling??: You have a pimple. Potentially on your chin. Potentially in the same freaking spot you've gotten a pimple your entire life since puberty. Maybe there's even a scar there. But that's OK, because at least you don't have to worry about picking at it! It's already scarred! Awesome!

Scenario 2: Again, this is probably after you wake up in the morning. Or maybe even if you wake up in the middle of the night, as I so often do. Your brain says, "Hello, you are awake now, open your eyes." And you do, but it seems like more of a struggle that usual. It feels like after you fell asleep, somebody came and dabbed your eyes with jello and then it melted and hardened.

What is this feeling??: You have eye boogers. You should probably rub them. Or maybe someone really did come and dab jello on your face. In which case I would suggest an alarm system.

Scenario 3: You have to pee. Or poop. Or...sit on a toilet for whatever reason. Maybe you just enjoy toilet seats. That's cool. But when you go to sit down, you get to a certain point and then find that you can't control your muscles past that. You have two choices: fall the rest of the way to the toilet seat, or hold it.

What is this feeling??: You have pulled your ass muscles. You probably ran too much. Or did too many squats. Hooray fitness! But hopefully the results you are seeing makes it worth the difficulty in the bathroom. 

Scenario 4: You feel as if someone lit a match in your cleavage. It's like sunburn, but worse. You go to touch it and quickly find that this was a terrible idea, for you have only stoked the fire.

What is this feeling??: You had an incredibly persistent itch and forgot that you have long fingernails now because you have vowed to stop biting them so you don't look so damn nubby. So you kept scratching at that stupid little itch and now you've removed a few layers of skin. It's going to hurt for a couple of days. I would suggest lotion and less-hot showers. And also an avoidance of push-up bras.

Scenario 5: You are ENRAGED. The fire is not in your cleavage, but in your soul. You want to punch people in the face. No, you want to punch BABIES in the face. All babies ever in all places. This is the extent of your anger.

What is this feeling??: Well, it could really be a plethora of things. Perhaps you're watching "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" and the contestant spells the word vowel "voul." Perhaps your football team just lost to fucking VANDERBILT. Maybe you have a class with Poop (in which case, I am so terribly sorry). Or maybe your calculus teacher decided to give you an extension on the homework that you stayed up until 6 a.m. to finish. But you're definitely pissed. 

Please do not actually punch babies.

Simply because I want to be Jenna Marbles....

....I have decided to take a cue from her and spend some time really reflecting on the things that I am truly terrible at.

Leave me a comment on here or facebook with things you suck at! It's OK, we all suck at something. Or lots of things.

1. Running.

I have begun an endeavor with one of my roommates called "Couch to 5K" in which we are supposed to be able to run a 5K in eight weeks. That is in fact two months. I am doubtful of my capabilities. I really REALLY suck at running. Like, my intense jogging speed is the same as my walking speed. I just happen to be doing a sort of hoppy walk. Also, my ankles turn out because otherwise my knees don't go straight. And so I look like a stupid duck idiot when I run/jog/hop-walk.

But I HAVE made progress! I ran for three minutes straight! Two times! In the same day!

2. Remaining calm.

I worry about all things all the time. It's a little not funny because it's actually a disorder. But it is mostly funny. I just get stuck on the dumbest shit. Usually it's that I'm afraid I've done something to make boyfriend upset. But most of the time I have done nothing and he's not even acting any different. There is just no reason. None.

3. Being quiet.

I am a loud and boisterous person. I just am. And you either love me for it or hate me for it. There's not a lot of in between with me...like there isn't really a middle ground with people who are like, "Eh, I guess Kelly is OK." No. It is love or hate. At least in my experience.

4. Doing hair.

I'm with you on this one, Jenna. Most days it just goes up because I don't give enough of a fuck to actually do something to it. I blame my hair for not quite being curly or straight, but somewhere in between, like at an awkward crinkly/frizzy/stick out wherever it wants to stage.

5. Putting pants on.

I literally have no sense of balance. Even with underwear, where I just have to stick my foot through a hole and put it right back on the ground, which takes all of about two seconds, I will fall over. It has happened before. And I end up hitting the ground hard with my legs all tangled up in my bunchy pants and then my mom runs upstairs like, "I heard a crash! Are you ok??" and I'm just sitting on the floor in my twisty pants and feeling like a turd. So I try to lean against something now.

6. Drawing.

Ugh, it's so embarrassing. I'm AWFUL. And my parents always say, "You're not bad at drawing! You won a drawing contest!" But that contest was in Kindergarten. And my prairie dogs looked like mutant aliens. Their heads were severely misshapen. Their moms must have been taken acutane when they were pregs.

7. Sleeping like a grown up.

I sleep with stuffed animals. I stopped for about a year or so in high school because dammit, I wanted to be an adult. But then I started again when boyfriend got me my beloved giraffe Geoffrey for V-day last year. And I will always sleep with stuffed animals. Probably when I am married even. I mean, I guess it doesn't have to be an animal. It could just be a pillow.

How could you not want to cuddle with that???

I JUST WANT SOMETHING TO HUG, OK?

Giving the finger to parking services

Just, this:

Also, this, because I forgot:

I hope they get attacked by gigantic spikey snakes. I will BREED snakes that can sniff out Auburn University Parking Services and then I will adhere spikes to their backs with special snake super glue and send them on their sniffing way. Slither on, spikey-ass snakes. EAT PARKING SERVICES.

EAT THEM.

The sneeze heard 'round the world

There is a girl. She is in my abnormal psychology class. I'm relatively sure she lives in boyfriend's apartment complex. She is loud and obnoxious and talks way too much in class. I do not know her name. But if I had to make up a name to fit her personality, I would pick Poop. 

I can tell you, friends, exactly when I noticed Poop's obnoxiousness. One day in class, we were talking about how accurate IQ tests were. And our professor asks, "Do IQ tests really measure intelligence?" Poop says, "No." Professor asks why. And Poop says, "Well, you can be in college and be dumb as rocks. Like athletes. They're dumb." 

Athletes. 

They're dumb.

Good point there, Poop. Truly, well thought out and well executed.

Another day in class, we were discussing panic attacks. Our professor had also brought up test anxiety earlier in the class to show the difference between fear and anxiety. And Poop raises her hand and tells this delectable story:

"Can test anxiety cause a panic attack? (professor tried to stop her here by telling her yes, but Poop would not have it.) Because my cousin had a panic attack during finals last year. Like, we were outside waiting to go in for the test and she started like hyperventilating. I thought it was funny."

And our professor, god bless her soul, gets this look on her face and says, "Yeah...it's not really that funny."

Seriously. Why is this girl a psychology major?? Please, PLEASE do not become a counselor, Poop. 

Based on these two events, my friends/classmates and I have begun taking a tally of how many times she talks during class. She's averaging about 25 times per class period, which is FIFTY MINUTES. Now, I know I'm a liberal arts major, but it's pretty clear that that is actually twice a minute that Poop feels she must make a comment. 

Our professor has clearly begun to detest her as well. Whenever Poop raises her hand, she tries pretty hard to ignore her. But it's difficult, because Poop tends to just speak up anyway. My favorite thing was when she said something and the class audibly groaned. Hilarious.

But here was the tipping point. This earned her five tallies on our "Number of times Poop speaks in class tally." She sneezed.

Now, when I say she sneezed, I don't mean a normal "Aa-choo" sneeze. This sneeze was fucking nuclear. It was terrifying. I don't know that I can accurately describe it through typing, but it was something like, "Huh-GAHHHH."

And we LOST. IT. My row of friends and I legitimately laughed for 10 minutes straight. Whenever we would finally get it together, one of us would re-imagine it in our heads and we'd start all over again.

At least Poop gave us some entertainment to break the monotony of pure frustration she leaves in her path.

I'm in love with a stripper

Well....sort of. I'm actually in love with Jenna Marbles. And I don't even know if she is still a go-go dancer, but I still love her if she is not.

I went on an absolutely RIDICULOUS rampage last night of watching Jenna Marbles videos. I'm pretty sure I have now watched the majority of her stuff. From both of her channels. It was truly pathetic. I was just in my room by myself, laughing out loud and watching youtube for over an hour.

I know. Serious girl crush here. But let's take a look at the reasons why Jenna Marbles is the love of my life:

1) She doesn't give a shit. She just does not. I love that she says motherfucker every other second. She just shows that you can have hilarious comedy with cursing in it. I mean, not to say I'm not going to think somebody's not funny if they're completely clean, but I mean come on, she uses the word fuck really well. It's like she invented it. It spices everything up. It's the difference between McNuggets and Buffalo Wild Wings.

2) She shows off her awesome tittayyyys. As per one of my previous blog posts, I'm all for some cleave. And her video with tips and tricks about how to make your boobs look like they're from space is the best thing ever. Yes, it's OK to be sexy!!

3) She has the best relationship ever. At least it seems like it. Her and her boyfriend are so funny together and I love that they are just completely blunt with each other. Another lesson from Jenna. Honesty is the best policy.

4) She'll say it to your face. I mean, she posted videos about her neighbor and her roommate on the Internet, which is, you know, public domain. And she talked about how she just called her roommate out for being an asshole. Words to live by, dude. It makes me feel not alone. Because I am that bitch that will say something if you're being a dick. Which doesn't really make me a bitch, I guess. Really I'm just being helpful.
And also about boys. I don't understand what is so difficult about boys. She said that she'd rather just come up to a guy and say, hey I like you. Because it's stupid and a waste of damn time to play games. Like, the reason I have such a lengthy and numerous man past is because I'm a super forward flirt. And when people come to me for advice, they are always frustrated when I tell them to just go talk to the guy. Because apparently that's extremely difficult. But I mean, I've had pretty good results. So if you're not a complete hag, 9 times out of 10 you win. If you're scared of a 90% chance then I quit. I can't work with you.

5) She's independent. I love that she's paying for all her own stuff. And she's doing what it takes to do it. She's got a rockin' bod, so she gets money "dancing in her underwear." Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it. Slash get money for it. In a completely legal way.

6) She doesn't lie about looking good. She straight up says that nobody looks good when they wake up in the morning. She wears makeup, she does her hair, and she works for her health and her body. Because, yes, it does take more than 10 minutes to look good in the morning (unless you have genes like Giselle...in which case you are extremely lucky), and looking as fit as she does doesn't just happen.

I literally have to stop myself right now from rambling on and on. There is just too much to love. She is living my life. I feel like we would be best friends. Or we would hate each other because we're too similar.

Either way, she is legit one of my inspirations, because she reminds me that it's OK to cuss and look hot (and take a long time to do it) and speak up and do your own thing. Classy is overrated. Not everyone can be Kate Middleton. Be true to yourself, friends!!

*Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off voice* Jenna Marbles, you're my hero.

Excuse me, I'm allergic to peanuts.

My best friend is allergic to peanuts. He really just is. I mean, if you ate peanuts and then made out with him, he would probably have an issue. 

But I like peanuts. And all nuts. And I eat them in front of him. 

AND HE IS ALIVE.

However, apparently the effects of peanut butter can be more detrimental than I initially thought.

There is a girl. She is in a class with two of my roommates. We will call her Unusually Sensitive Peanut Butter Girl. One day last week, Roommate A was eating a snack of graham crackers and peanut butter, five seats down from USPBG. After class, USPBG came up to her and asked, "Um, were you eating peanut butter during class?" And Roommate A said yes. And USPBG said, "You can't do that. I'm allergic, and I could smell it."

I would like to point out at this point that USPBG still has a nose. It is not, in fact, apparent that she had any kind of bad reaction to the peanut butter that she could so clearly smell. 

A few days later, Roommate A was hungry during class again, and all she had was a snack bar. Peanuts were the fifth ingredient, but she wanted to be courteous and make sure that she would not actually cause the death of this USPBG. So here is how the conversation went. 

Roommate A: Excuse me. I have snack bar, and I was wondering: if peanuts are the fifth ingredient—

USPBG: No.

Roommate A: .....Ok....I really like your shirt.

Here's the kicker. Not long after that, the boy that sits DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF USPBG ate a peanut butter Clif bar during class. Then, a pack of Nutter Butters. USPBG said nothing. Nothing at all.

So here are the choices. 

1. On Halloween, Roommates A and B go as Peanut Butter and Jelly, all out. Like, coat themselves. And then say, "Sorry, but we've had these costumes planned for MONTHS."

2. Next time Boy in Front of USPBG eats something with peanut butter, say (obnoxiously loudly), "Excuse me, but the girl behind you is REALLY allergic to peanut butter, and you can't eat those."

3. Have Roommate B get onto Roommate A about eating grapes (her new snack of choice), because she is EXTREMELY allergic.

I say number one. Anyone else? Bueller? 

The detour: OOTD Log #6

So...this actually happened yesterday. But I was so fried by the end of all of this that I couldn't even begin to blog about it. 

Yesterday, I took a little trip to visit my lovely lady (lumps) doctor in B-ham. (I notice a disturbing trend here...the last time I went to see the lady doctor in B-ham I had OOTD too...read about it here.) So that is the first problem here. Such doctor visits are never fun, and are always uncomfortable. 

But really, this is about what happened afterward.

Here is something you need to know about 280: When you're going TO B-ham, it runs right into the expressway that takes you downtown. But when you're coming BACK, you have to merge off of said expressway back onto 280, or else the expressway dead-ends into The Road To Nowhere. 

How do I know this?

Because instead of getting on 280, I took TRTN and ended up 50 miles off course from where I should have been and ended up in a gas station parking lot by the Shelby County airport near I-65, crying to boyfriend on the phone because I was so lost.

Let me give you a visual. 

So I ended up having to drive in this giant L shape through Montgomery to get back to Auburn, taking me an extra hour and a half. See my route here:

CURSE YOU, LACK OF DIRECTIONAL SKILLS (and, in my defense, poor designing and small and insignificant road signage)!! You've foiled me once again.

AND THEN I couldn't get on the damn highway because the entrance was so freaking complicated, and I had to turn around three times before I finally got it. So I was riding around the I-65 ramp—like when you drop something valuable in the sink and it keeps teasing you by almost but NOT QUITE going down the drain—blasting Marilyn Manson, crying tears of frustration and singing/screaming along in anger.

What. Is. My. Life. 

If you're under 21, and you want to get drunk: OOTD Log #5

Today started off as a normal day. One of my roommates and I decided we wanted to go shopping. Sometimes girls do this. So we thought we'd go to the mall. Before we left, I remembered, "Oh hey, dude came to fix our alarm, so it should be working now! Let's try it out." And it was really complicated to set it, because it didn't set the way the instructions said. But I finally pressed some combination of our code, the asterisk, and the pound sign that turned it on.

So Roommate A and I went to the mall. I bought things that I shouldn't have bought because I am poor. And then we were in Maurice's about to spend more money when I received a frantic call from Roommate B. There was a horrid shrieking in the background and she was seemingly in a state of panic, telling me that the alarm was going off and it wouldn't turn off and she'd tried everything and nothing worked. 

And over the course of the next 30 minutes, my recent calls list filled up completely with calls among Roommate B, the Auburn Police, and the alarm company. And the police said, "Oh yeah, we got a call from your alarm company and we're sending someone over." And then they said I had to call the company to get them to figure out how to turn it off. So I called them and a robot lady said, "Our business hours are Monday through Friday from 8-5," and hung up on me. WELL HOW DID THEY CALL THE POLICE THEN?? 

I do not know.

So we left Maurice's and went home, where we indeed found Roommate B speaking with a cop. Whom I was afraid of. Because I am in fact afraid of all cops. And the alarm was still screaming. And the cop tried to rip it off the wall with a butter knife and then a screwdriver. And the cop opened all of our electrical boxes and unplugged everything. And finally, our neighbor (who lived there last year) came over and said, "Hey the alarm company just called me." HOW?? But anyway, then she was like, "Well since they called me, maybe my code works." And so we put it in, and then, after an HOUR of struggling with this madness, it turned off. It activated with my code, but wouldn't turn off without hers. And I stood there, staring at the alarm box after I'd input her code, and said, with a cop standing directly behind me, "Are you FUCKING kidding me."

So apparently my condo place still, after three weeks, has not changed over the codes. Really? Really. OK.

And then we looked at the cop and we were like, well sorry dude. And he was like, "It's all good! It's my job!" And I said, "Please take a brownie." And I cut him a gigantic caramel double chocolate brownie and put it on a paper plate, and he proceeded to spend some time telling us some of his favorite arrest stories. All of which started with the line, "If you're under 21, and you want to get drunk..."

Some examples:

"If you're under 21, and you want to get drunk, don't stand over there peeing behind a bush and laughing loudly. Because I will catch you."

"If you're under 21, and you want to get drunk, don't walk in front of my cop car with a bottle in your hand."

"If you're under 21, and you want to get drunk, it's probably not in your best interests to have a giant, loud party where you get the cops called on you. Then you all get arrested."

But my favorite...

"Did you guys hear about the guy that got arrested because he was riding a bike naked?" (answer, yes, this man is famous in Creekside) "Well, I'm the guy that arrested him. It's true, you're meeting a celebrity."

So officer Steve Martin (not a joke) made that shitty situation just a little bit better with his hilariousness. Sorry we brought you out on a Sunday afternoon on a holiday weekend....

It's been one of those days.

I had a dream

I am going to start a new thing. A segment, if you will. It is going to be about my ridiculous dreams. (side note: I sliced my finger on a food processor the other day and I'm typing with a band-aid on right now and it's REALLY DIFFICULT) I have hilarious, abnormal dreams. Here is one.

I will call it: 

Powdered Sugar No Eyes Marijuana

In my dream, I had to play this game where I had to blow powdered sugar on all the trees to make it look like it was snowing. So I'm literally holding a flour sifter and turning the handle and my mouth is pressed on the meshy part and I'm blowing powdered sugar through it. And when I finished I looked around like, wow, that really sucked. It just does not look like winter at all. I guess I lost the game. 

And then I went up the hill to some house and my brother was there. He had also lost the game and therefore the game runners took his eyes out. (I think this is because I finished The Quillan Games from the Pendragon series last night, and in the last part of the book, people that lose the games get penalized. Hence: the eye cutting out penalty)

And I was like, whoahhh this is way too much. I need some weed. (side note number two: I do not actually smoke pot. Crack is whack, kids. Or, pot is...not...good.) And so I pulled out my dollar bill that was actually just weed made to look like a dollar bill and lit it on fire and smoked it.

End of dream.

Interpret that, Freud.

WHAT DOES IT MEEEEEAN??

Plights with the universe: OOTD Log #5

Oh friends. It has been one of those days.

Tuesdays in general are a crazy day for me, because I'm pretty much going from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. I have a couple of breaks in there, but they offer me just enough time to do not much of anything, except grab a bite to eat and read a little. 

And today it was HOT. Like a freshly fried egg. And there were no tables inside, so former suitemate (that is sad. I miss being her suitemate) and I ate outside...this was a mistake. I was as fried as the egg that I so recently used in a simile. My poor shoulders :(

I also have a condition that occurs when it is hot outside. It is called "Sweaty Back." I was just a mess. I was back-sweat Bertha. And my backpack (which claims to have an "airway" so that you never get too hot) is a LIE. It is a dirty lying whore. My back has never been hotter. And I had on a lovely dress that shows sweat like it's its job, so I had a nice backpack-shaped sweat X on my back. Delicious.

Then. THEN. Boyfriend and I hung out for a while after chorus. This outage of hanging lasted until about 10 after four, at which point I left so that I would have enough time to get home, get all my shit, and get to work by five. As I entered the transit bus and found my seat, I attempted to sit down like any normal person would. But I am not normal, and therefore I slammed my funny bone on the window so hard that my whole forearm went completely numb. I dropped a really loud f-bomb in the middle of a bus, folks. I did it, and I apologize. But I will show you the bruise on my elbow and I hope you will understand.

Now, the transit ride back to my place is usually about 20 minutes, but the Opelika bus decided that it would sit for a reeeeeally long time at Haley Center. During which time we acquired probably two other passengers. And so I got home at 4:45, and ruuuuushed to get everything, and left around 4:50. So I still should have gotten to work on time.

Not this day. This day, the stop lights got together and the head-stop light said, "Hey guys, I have the best idea ever of all time. Kelly is on her way to work. When you see her car approach, TURN RED. This is especially encouraged at lights where rush-hour traffic is built up, so that she will sit through two light cycles. Ready? Break!!" 

And the lights did as they were told. 

And as I was hurrying my ass up to get out of my car at 5:02, my purse got caught on my emergency break handle and jerked me back to the car like it was a giant magnet and I was the laptop that Jesse and Walt needed to destroy. I hit it hard. Then I cursed at it loudly, avoided the weirded-out stare of a passerby, and slammed the door nice and hard so my car—and the universe—would recognize how angry I was. Then I clocked in just in time to make the seven-minute cutoff that would have put me 15 minutes late. Whew.

It. Has. Been. One of those freakin' days, y'all. 

Rant about racism

I love my job. For the most part. I make good money tutoring writing, something I love to do, and my boss isn't an asshole. But there's one thing that keeps coming up in staff meetings and at training that just irks me. And I can't say anything more about it there than I have already, and so I sit there in frustrated silence. So now I'm going to blog about it.

My boss has this thing about racism. And just in general about things that might make people uncomfortable. And here is the scenario we always talk about, not directly quoted:

Someone comes into the writing center for help with a paper that, after reading it, seems to contain some racist things. What do you do?

You freakin help them.

But he always says that if something in a paper makes you uncomfortable you don't have to work with that person. But do you know how many things make people truly uncomfortable?? For example, boyfriend HATES cotton balls. And by the above rule, if someone brought in a paper about cotton balls, he could be all, "Uh, no, sorry, I can't do this." And then if the other tutor in that time slot has another appointment, poor cotton ball writer is just SOL. Which is so not fair.

Now I understand that racism is much more inherently offensive than little white things you use to take off nail polish or whatever. But here's the thing:

1. People are always offended by something
2. There will always be racists in the world
3. There is nothing in our mission statement that reflects the fact that we are anti-anything; in fact it states just the opposite: that we help with all kinds of writing.

I highly doubt that helping a racist with his grammar is going to increase the number of racists in the world. And lots of things are going to make you uncomfortable, so you should probably get used to it. I mean, if someone came to me with a paper clearly stating views against same-sex marriage, I would probably be uncomfortable. And I would also want to punch them in the face. But I would do my damn job and tutor them. With a smile : D

If we can turn racists away, who's to say we can't turn anyone away? It's just ridiculous, and we put so much focus on it. If we're going on that rule, we need to put it somewhere where people can see it. Because as of now, there is nothing about it, so if someone like boyfriend gets a cotton ball paper and no other tutors are available, and that paper is due in in a few hours or even the next day, that person might get a shitty grade on their paper. And that sucks, because they came to a place that offers a great service to all writers. 

I don't wish racists ill. I think that being racist is pretty dumb, but I don't want them all to fail their papers or whatever. We are not furthering racism in the world by tutoring a person who wrote a racist paper. Seriously. It's OK. 

SAVE THE COTTON BALLS

 

I don't understand my own sex

Cleavage. That's what got boyfriend and I on the topic of how underhanded and just all-around bitchy girls can be. And I have discovered that there are two things that I REALLY can't stand about girls. I mean, there are more, but not any that really bug me like these. So here you go, short and sweet:

1. If you show boob, don't get mad at boys for noticing. It's not like you don't know you're showing cleavage. Like, when you put on a shirt, either it's above the cleave line or below it. And I don't know about anyone else, but I personally sometimes just gotta be like, "I'm young. Here are my boobs looking good in a push-up bra. Appreciate them." And when guys stare, I feel good, like, yes, BAM, excellent boobage appreciated. I don't get offended. Why are girls always like, "Ugh, guys are such pigs! Stop staring!"? You put them out there so...quit complaining. Or cover up.

2. If you don't like someone, don't act like you do. I don't like a lot of people. And I have decided to a) not give a shit about them, b) not speak to them, or c) not go past civil conversation if we must interact. There really is just no excuse for talking bad about friends behind their backs. Because if they're your friends, you like them. And if you have an issue with a friend, just freakin' say something. I hate confrontation, but I would rather be like, "Hey, just so you know, it kind of bothers me when you _____." It is that easy. And then the problem is resolved and you don't have to do any complaining about it. Hurrah!

Mini-rant over. Anyone else got anything they don't understand? About boys or girls, it don't matta. Leave a comment!

Gordon and other fiascos involving my condo: OOTD Log #4

I keep having these long breaks between posts. But this time I had a legitimate reason. Everything is wrong with my condo. 

First: We had no wifi. I was reading through my welcome packet and it said they had installed routers in every single unit so the internet would be faster. And we had a card with our username and password. So I signed on...and the Internet wasn't working. And I tried all the things I knew to do with my limited knowledge of ways to fix wifi and finally called Pavlov, the company that does our wifi and cable.

And I made this call as a friend was leaving to come over, because I figured it would take 10 minutes and she would be there in about 15. But I was on the phone with these people for 40 MINUTES. And I talked with one lady for about 30 minutes and tried about 957 different things, and then she finally said, "You have a second-level issue. Let me connect you with my superviser." And then she put me on hold, during which time they played a lovely orchestral rendition of "It's my life" by Bon Jovi. Then a man named Gordon came on and told me that "the fibers going into our router weren't working correctly" and he'd have to send someone out there. And I said, "Tell me something Gordon. Are we the only unit in this area whose fibers aren't working and who don't have wifi?" And he said, "Looks like it."

The universe hates me. As further evidenced by:

Second: We had no hot water. Because the people who lived here before just turned the gas off when they moved out instead of putting it back in my dad's name (he's the owner). Because that makes sense. And I moved in Friday night and the offices were closed over the weekend. And when my dad called yesterday they said they couldn't come until today. So I've been driving to boyfriend's apartment every night to take a shower. Bless him.

Third: My sink doesn't drain correctly. Which is phenomenal. I love washing my face, soaping it up, then leaning over the sink to rinse it off only to have my face met with a giant puddle of water because the entire sink has filled up.

Fourth: The girls that lived in our condo last year were apparently the worst offenders of party rules in the history of Creekside. And they would have been evicted had anyone reported them. But they didn't. And now they live next door. Terrific. I will be that bitch that calls the cops on them. I don't even care. I just like to sleep.

Fifth: Our alarm batteries need replacing. And apparently when this happens, the alarm beeps obnoxiously for a billion years until someone punches a button on it. The alarm decided its batteries needed replacing at 4 o'clock in the morning. 

In addition to the above calamities, I'm PMSing, so all things that suck have their suckage amplified 100 percent. Hormones and anger. It's been one of those...weeks.

Crazies and fools

Hello.

Here is a video of me telling you stories. I literally have no idea what I'm doing, as evidenced in the fact that it took me nearly an hour and a half to get this figured out. And I don't even know if it works. Because the little blue video box on my screen won't let me push play. Let us hope that it actually does work...

Giant squid of anger

It's been a week. It's actually been more than a week. Because here is what happened. 

1. I finally got the sickness that everyone else had in Austria. Did I tell you that already? Well if I did I'm telling you again. And it sucked. But I ate my weight in cough drops and drank my weight in tea and I'm FINALLY better.

2. Boyfriend came to visit this weekend and spent all my time with him. Twas lovely to spend more than a couple of hours with him :) also, Breaking Bad. SKYLARRRR.

3. Packing. All of the packing. So much packing. I don't actually know when I acquired so much CRAP, but I have it. So much stuff. I have been packing all day and I now I feel like I'm going to die. I don't even want to move all this nasty into my condo. I just want to arrive there and have it all be set up.  Could that happen? Why didn't I respond to that email from those moving guys?? Curses!! I could be sitting in a lounge chair drinking a lemonade and telling large strong college men, "Put this here! Oh, thanks for taking my REALLY HEAVY TRUNK upstairs! Appreeeeeesh!" But no, I figured I could do it with my parents. Dumb.

Also, on top of that, it is the week. You know the one. The week before my uterus wrecks itself. And so my hormones are like, BLAHHHHHH I HATE YOU!! And I have the anger. Everything is just pissing me off. This is the worst week for this to be happening. Next week would be infinitely better. My life. 

That's all. Seriously. Sorry. I'm planning on recording a video of hilarious stories that I cannot write down because they would not be as funny. Did I already tell you that too? Gah. I don't remember.

Well, I hope your week is less full of anger and frustration than mine. Love and hugs that are a little too hard because I'm taking my anger out on anything and everything. 

I studied abroad!

Oh hey.

So I'm back home in good ole Knoxvegas, TN. And although I started writing this post while I was in the Vienna airport (because strangely, even though like nowhere in Europe has free wifi, the airport did), I wasn't quite finished. So here are some of the lovely insights about myself and people/things and general that I have discovered while abroad.

About me:

1. I can study abroad. I did it! I worked through my anxiety, which as you all know was horrifically terrible the first week, and it ended up being amazing. I am so freaking proud of myself I can't even tell you.

2. Although I suck with directions in terms of orienting myself and actual NESW directions, I can figure out public transportation like nobody's business. Even in a country where I didn't speak the language (Hungary). Also very proud of myself for that, because seriously, I am directionally challenged. It's sad.

3. I'm going to be able to deal with my anxiety for the rest of my life, because if I can get through studying abroad, sans my safety blanket of family and boyfriend, I can do anything. New city? Whatever. Trying to enter the work world? It's whatever. I have confidence in me! (Julie Andrews, goddess...inspired by our Sound of Music tour in Salzburg)

About other things:

1. Air conditioning is the most beautiful thing in the world. Say it with me: Thank you, America, for your choice to keep your population cool even when it is 98 degrees outside. And yes, it is a choice, because AC is readily available and not so difficult to install.

2. You can find friends anywhere you go. The only person I was friends with before coming on this trip was Jennie. And now I have a bunch of new friends that I suppose I can pencil in to my busy schedule. Kidding. But for reals, I met some pretty bitchin' people on this trip. And I love them all and I was very sad to leave them and now we must hang out when we get back to Auburn.

3. Drinking in excess: I don't get it. I never have and I don't think I ever will. I'm gonna say that probably half the group was interested in spending a good portion of their time going out and getting shwasted. I find this ridiculous for a few reasons:

• If your parents spend upwards of $4,000 (plus airfare and any side trips) to send you to Europe for a study abroad program, I would think that you would want to spend more time on said program.
• Why would you choose to study abroad if you're just going to drink your time away? You could just as easily take a European vacation, and it would probably be less expensive and not affect your GPA.
• It costs a lot of money. I heard so many people complaining, like, "Oh god, I can't believe how much money I spent last night." It could just be spent better.
• CALORIES. Also heard a bunch of folks being all upset about how much weight they'd gained. I mean, yeah, the food is great, but we were walking around a ton. For a comparison, I definitely ate just as much as everyone else, and I tried my share of beers (but not, you know, six liters at a time. More like...half a liter), and I have in fact lost weight.
• The pride. People go around and talk about their drinking escapades like they're so proud of what they've done. Examples of some of the escapades people in our group experienced: "I spent more than a hundred Euros last night" "I puked on a table and tried to wipe it off but the waiter saw so I got kicked out" "I peed inside a building somewhere" "I peed on the street" "I passed out at the bar" Just, why? Why is that so funny and fun to recount? It's dangerous, and it's hurting your body, and it's disgusting. I love me some beer, and wine, and GOD I love mojitos, but I have one. And I'm not in debt and I'm not 10 pounds heavier.

4. Smoking. I've been to Europe twice before, and I remembered there is just cigarette smoke everywhere, but being there for five weeks it was really bad. Cigarette smoke really irritates my throat and nose, and the more I thought about smoking, the angrier I got. Because here's the thing: if you want to kill yourself, whatever. But when you smoke a cigarette, you're hurting everyone around you. There are so many studies that state how dangerous second-hand smoke is, and I don't understand how something that harms others around you can be legal. My lungs are probably worse for the wear after these past weeks, and I had no choice in the matter. That doesn't seem fair. Smoking should be illegal in public, period, even outside, because most times you just can't avoid it. If you want to smoke, you can do it in your own home. Or in those enclosed smoking lounges they have in Europe...maybe they should make that a thing in the U.S. I also don't understand why people smoke in general. You know how bad it is for you, it smells awful, it makes you smell and taste awful, and it doesn't make you look cool. If you need to calm down, drink some tea or if it's really bad (I understand, trust me) get a prescription, yo. 

So yeah! That's my reflection-ish thing about my trip : )

Oh, also, I didn't tell you about my last weekend. We went to Salzburg and did all of the things. But the best thing was the zoo. Apparently they just like don't believe in cages because most of the fences were knee-high and animals were just kind of jumping around all over the place. Which was seriously awesome. 

But the best part was that we got to see a brown bear like WAY up close. Not through glass, like in my zoo, but over another tiny fence (although there was a small lake in between the bears and the fence), and he went for a swim and it was ADORABLE. 

LOOK AT HIM. 

He was so freaking cute. He was my friend. My mom said he kept looking at me because he wanted to eat me for dinner, but I know better. My bear buddy!!

Hungary, the seat of evil

It's kind of been a while....sorry about that. I had no internet this weekend, and since I got back I've been unbelievably busy preparing for my finals.

So my mom and brother came last week. It was SUPER awesome to see them : ) I'm so glad they got to come visit me! They've been working off their jet lag by walking all over Vienna, and now their feet and legs are sore...that was me my first week and a half. And now my calves are MONSTERS. Seriously. I mean, they were pretty strong before, but now their ginormous, and this effect is intensified by the fact that my ankles are so small I can wrap my hands around them and touch my fingers. And my hands are really small. So, yeah, I have like a mountain range on my legs, which makes it extremely difficult to shave...

Maybe I'll just have to go European on everyone and ditch the razor.

So we went to Budapest on Friday morning, and for some reason (unbeknownst to me), our travel agent told my mom it was cheaper for three people to get first class train tickets. Which isn't true...but hey, we had a bitchin train ride. SO much foot room. 

And Budapest was....interesting. First off, the city is suuuuper dirty. And after staying in one of the cleanest cities in Europe for a month, that was a huge shock. Half our money was spent on water bottles.

Also, the people were assholes. They were so rude to us. Every single restaurant we went to we were ignored. On our last day, we watched three other tables eat and pay before we even got our appetizers. It made me wonder how we treat tourists in America. Now, with the whole immigration thing, I've always been kind of irked. Because if you're going to come LIVE in a country, you should at least know enough of the language to get around. But I don't know that I've ever really interacted any tourists in America. I guess I see them when I'm in New York city, but I've never seen anyone be outwardly rude to them or ignore them completely. 

It was just so frustrating. Tourists bring money to your country, so the last thing you should be doing is making them feel unwelcome. Which they did. And thanks to that, Budapest, you will not get any more of my money. 

On a positive note, though, we did see some awesome stuff. My favorite was a museum that had a photography exhibit and an exhibit about the Indians in the Amazon rainforest (and a Hungarian culture exhibit that we didn't go through). Such a random mix, but it was fascinating. The photography exhibit had pictures that this guy took of people in their houses in Southeastern Europe. Every single photo told a story. You could see the people's lives in their faces, in every wrinkle or every laugh line, in their clothes or their possessions. It made me remember why I love photography so much, but especially why I love to shoot people. A photo really is worth a thousand words.

The Amazon exhibit had the biggest beetles I've ever seen. I thought the one we found in our room was big, but I about shat myself when I saw the elephant beetle, which is the size of my entire hand. Ugh. 

And the food. OH the food. Even though we had to wait a million years for it, it was so so SO good. My mom and I had a traditional Hungarian pork dish with "flour pellets," which were kind of these little noodle-potato things. Idk but it was great. And I drank a wine called "Bull's blood," so named because the Hungarians used to believe it would give you super strength. (Interesting side note: that's actually what wine was originally used for. People thought it made you work harder, so rich people gave it to their servants/slaves/workers or whatever, like, all the time. Irony.)

So...yeah. That was my weekend.

I'ma bring you guys some reflections on the trip soon...it may be after I get back depending on when I can get free wifi again. But it is coming. And I am coming home in 5 days!!!! I cannot WAIT to see my daddy and my boyfriend : ) 

Bis später! Wünsch mich viel Spass in Salzburg!

And then we got on the wrong train

Hallo meine Lieben! 

I have a story for you. It's a good one. I have added it to my inventory of excellent stories involving getting lost in foreign countries. 

A brief overview of the others: I sailed around Venice twice, on one boat without a ticket, before finally finding my way back to the trains. Incidentally, I was with my roommate on this trip, Jennie, or Jennaynay, who I was also with on this trip's story. I also ran like the wind for a tram in Florence which ended up being the wrong tram and blah.

SO.

This past weekend we went to Munich. And Jennaynay and I wanted to go see Neuschwanstein (the castle they modeled the disney castle after) on our free day, Saturday. So we were planning on making the 8:04 train, but got to the station at like 8:15. So we got tickets for the 8:50 train. Also, you need to know that this weekend they were doing construction on all the S-Bahns (like streetcars, but underground, but not the U-Bahn, which is the subway...I know, it's confusing) and so all the S-Bahns were running on the regular train tracks. So we got to our track, and our train comes in and on the side it says S6 Tützing, which is an S-Bahn. And we hesitated, but on the sign above the platform it said it was our train to Füssen. So we got on.

Then we went to the end of the S6 line and realized, OK, they really did put us on the wrong train. (Which is idiotic, because of all people the folks at the information desk should know how to work around the construction). And there were two other groups of people around us going to the same place, and so when the conductor walked by we booked it after him. But he made it into his little room before we could get to him. I considered knocking, and then two guys sitting by the door asked us if we were going to Neuschwanstein. Turns out we all had the same problem. And we had to go back 30 minutes to the stop three stops from where we'd first started to transfer. Awesome. 

So we made friends with the two guys sitting by the door, Tom and Anthony, who were both Canadian but didn't know each other before they met at a hostel. And also these three guys meeting in Munich because that's where their company's headquarters were. Nit was from Tokyo, Gerald was from Atlanta, and Roger was from Chicago. 

And we got to the stop, Passing, and went to the info window to get new tickets. And we had just missed the 9:50 train so we had to wait for the 10:50 train. So we got burger king and hung out for an hour.

When we FINALLY got to Neuschwanstein, two hours later than planned and after riding on one train that smelled like butts and had no bathroom and another train whose AC was on arctic blast (not that I'm complaining too much after that heat wave...), we looked out the window to find that it was completely covered in scaffolding. 

WUNDERBAR.

But it actually ended up being super cool, because the guys were awesome and we just walked around with them the whole afternoon. We hiked up to the other castle nearby and walked around on some trails, and I got some awesome pictures. 

So yeah. That's the story. Here are some pictures:

Looking out the train window when we finally got on the right damn train.

Jennaynay and Nit

Me and Roger

Gerald is extremely excited about petting this horse

Looks like a freakin' postcard, right??

The end!!

I hope you enjoyed, friends. My mom and brother will be here tomorrow, and I am so so so SOOO excited!! We are off to Budapest this weekend and Salzburg next weekend. I will keep you updated on whatever other adventures may occur.

Bis bald!

Good news! (She's DEAAAD! The witch of the West is dead!)

I have good news for you, friends! I had a WONDERFUL weekend in Prague, or Praha as it's called in Czech. I had a few anxious moments, but it was overwhelmingly excellent. By the way, completely off the subject, but in the middle of writing that first sentence a bee flew into my neck quite violently and scared the shit out of me. So now I have abandoned the cool and breezy terrace for my hot room. Hooray.

But besides the aforementioned bee incident, I've had a really good past four days. The train ride over was actually super fun. It was five hours, but I was in a set of four seats that were facing each other, and I sat with buddy, another friend named Davon, and a guy on the trip named David.

And we talked pretty much the whole time about just whatever, and I feel like I made some really great friends over the weekend. I already liked Davon and Brenda, who I had been friends with before this weekend, but I hadn't talked much to David or another one of the guys on the trip, Dylan (the "You seriously got a sorority tattoo??" guy). And I for realz love them. They are just excellent people. When I was with that whole group, I was just constantly laughing. A favorite activity of mine.

David, Brenda, and Dylan

So what did I do in Praha, you ask?

Well, I stayed in a shitty hostel, where this was written on the bunk above me:

and my mattress was a box spring. Not a joke. I had one spring directly under my shoulder and another under my knee. Early arthritis, it's coming.

I also walked more than any human being ever should. We had three-hour tours every day, and then we would walk around until like nine or ten, minus sitting for lunch and dinner.

But aside from that!

I went shopping on Saturday after our morning tour and got everyone presents :) I wish I could tell you what they are!! But it is in fact a secret. But just know, family and boyfriend and BFF, I got some good'ns.

And we toured the palace that morning. Which was stupid beautiful. I kept daydreaming about what it would have been like to live there, way back when when you arrived there wearing a hoop skirt in your horse-drawn carriage. I want it!!

And then, AND THEN, we went to the Sex Machine Museum!! Of which, here are some highlights. Please, don't google these things. Meh, you won't have to. I'll show you pictures : D

-I watched a 1920s porno, in which nobody seemed to really know what they were doing.
-I learned what "sploshing" is.
-I also learned what a doll fetish is...you would think it would be sex with dolls. But no, children. It's where you dress up like a doll in a creepy mask and fake limbs and then do stuff. It doesn't even have to involve sex. The pictures I saw had the doll-people playing chess. Messed up.
-I discovered all sorts of fun genital piercings.
-I saw a pickle dick (dildo). That was probs my favorite.
-I got wonderful ideas for different machines to invest in in the future, such as: a giant wheel that you get strapped into, a rocking hammock, and a generous amount of metal restraint mechanisms. Delicious.
-I became an educated member (ha!!) of the "I know what butt-expander dildos look like" society. They're big. No really. Picture what you think a big dildo would look like. Then look at the pictures. Shocking, right?

The wheeeeeel

Do you see the pickle dick? Do you?? 

Unreal. I should have put something there for perspective. But it's about the length of my legs and the width of my torso.

It was awesome. It was so funny, and yet kind of frightening to think about how many people enjoy these things...
It was also only like seven bucks to get in. What a deal!

Dylan and I also made a trip to Erotic City. Hey, when you're in Europe, do as the Europeans do. Which means, stop giving two shits about sex, because everybody does it and trying to keep it a secret just fails. Nudity is much less shocking if it's just everywhere. But anyway, Erotic City was just a big ole sex store. I've never been in one before, so I don't know how it compares to U.S. stores, but it was super intense. I thought about getting boyfriend a pair of assless chaps (as a joke!) but decided against it.

So the trip back. We were in these little boxes that had six seats facing each other, and apparently it would just use up too much freaking fuel to turn the air conditioning on while we were sitting there for like, 10 minutes, and so it was horrifically hot. Here are some pictures of our misery faces:

David eating a hot burrito in a hot train car.

My red, sweaty face being unsuccessfully fanned by my flea market fan.

And then the train started moving, but the air conditioning situation did not particularly improve. But it's all good, cause then we found out they messed up our tickets and so we got moved to first class. BOOSH. Best train ride ever. LOOK AT THIS FOOTROOM. LOOK AT IT.

SOO MUUUUCH ROOOOOM

And then I had class today. The end.

Schönen Tag! Bis später!