Weirdest obsession ever

I have a collection of sorts. I don't know when it began. Or why, really. But here's the thing: I love cows. I love them so much. I love their little pink noses and their spots and their largeness. I want to hug them and feed them and....I don't know....ride them or whatever else people do with cows. Milk them I suppose.

The first item in the collection was my cow ice cream scooper. It has udders on the bottom. HOW FREAKING CUTE IS THAT?? It's also ironic because ice cream comes from cows.

I think the next thing was my cow mug. This does not have udders. Cows usually have four udders, by the way, in case you were wondering. This mug does, however, have little hooves. Adorable.

Then came the cookie jar. Perhaps it is a spice jar, because it is quite small. Or maybe it is a jar for runt cookies. You know, the ones you get when you get down to the last of the cookie dough and it's not quite enough for a cookie but you put it on there anyways because, dammit, you want warm cookies fresh from the oven and it doesn't matter how small they are!!! Anyway, the jar has udders.

Then for Christmas, my loving mother bought me a cow piggy bank. (Cow bank?) It sings a farm song when you push its hoof. I can't even handle it. 

Seriously, though, the song plays for about two minutes.

The latest addition to my collection I bought a few days ago when roommate and I went shopping in Auburn's pathetic excuse for a mall. I was helping her look for an ear cuff when I happened upon them: some godsend gem of a human being created COW EARRINGS. I said to myself, "Kelly, you don't need any more-" but I did not finish that thought because the rest of my brain was screaming, "COWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWS!!!!!!!! Buy them and put them in your ear holes! DO IT!"

So I did.  

Here is a picture of my cow collection for your enjoyment pleasure (click to enlarge):

I am a murderer

I have committed murder thrice in two days. That's way too much murder in such a short amount of time.

Case #1: The Razor

I bought a new razor yesterday. Schick finally came out with a lady version of the man razor that I have been using, and I thought to myself, "I am a lady. I should use this." WRONG. I sliced my armpits to pieces. I am so angry that I spent 11 dollars on this evil torture device. I had to put aloe on my lady pits and walk around with my arms in the air all night. 

Case #2: The Fly

Last night as I was reading before bed, a pesky fly kept bugging (ha!) me. He landed and vomited on my ear, and my comforter, and my wall. Rude. I woke up this morning and discovered that I had smothered him with my stomach whilst I was asleep....poor guy was all squished on my sheet in the approximate location of my torso. He had it coming to him I guess. Pesky lil' puker.

Case #3: The Big-Ass Mosquito

That bitch got slapped with a shoe and I do NOT regret it.

Noises

I have compiled for you a list of noises that frighten me, make me giggle, or piss me the hell off.

1. My roommate's Keurig. Whenever it heats up anything, it makes a noise that never fails to freak my freak. Even if I see her put something in it, I will still have a moment where I think, "Shit, here they come. The terrorists have sent an air raid to Auburn University," and then I brace myself for a bomb to drop. It never does though. One of these days I'm going to be right, roommate, and my defenses will save your life. You're welcome.

2. My suitemate in the bathroom. That sounds weird. But seriously, our bathroom has some kind of vendetta against her or something. We always here things thumping around or dropping and her saying, "Ow!" or "Shoot!" I'm convinced that one day she will go into the bathroom and never come out. I fear for her life, I really do.

3. The infamous Auburn University Lawn Care Team and their stupid leaf blowers. I cannot even tell you how many times I have woken up at 6:30 a.m. to the sound of a freaking leaf blower outside my window. Even if it is the dead of winter and there are NO LEAVES, these men and women try their hardest to blow away the cement. Or if it has rained, their attempts to move soaking wet leaves never falter. We appreciate your consideration, but for real, STFU. Start your blowing on the concourse, and not by the dorms. I have made a lovely chart to help in your endeavors (click to enlarge):

Anyone else? What noises piss you the hell off, or make you giggle, or scare the pants off you?

Dr. Suess and noodles

I am in World History II right now, and we are getting to the point in history where people start flipping their shit about Jews.

One of the readings we had to prepare for class tomorrow was from Theodor Herzl, and he talks about how persecuted Jews are and that they should really just have their own dang state and be separated from society.

And here is what this made me think.

Good lord. The gas of humans is hatred. All people do is find other people to hate. First women, because, I don't know, they have vaginas and therefore less brains I guess. Then it was black people, because obviously the blackness of their skin reflects the blackness of their souls. Then Jews. Now gay people. It never ends.

Anyway, all this reading about Jews inspired me to create this Dr. Suess-like couplet on the fly. I was having a rant to my roommate, saying, "This is so dumb. Why did everyone hate Jews??
Jesus was a Jew!!
He was. It's true!"
I suddenly realized the Dr. Suess-ness of my words and immediately imagined a book with a colorful Jesus-figure on the front, who would probably also have to be fuzzy, because let's face it, most Dr. Suess books are filled with fuzzy things.

I would buy that book. A colorful, fuzzy, rhyming Jewy Jesus book.

On a completely unrelated note, I just worked out, and now my arms feel all noodle-y. Bodyrock.tv, man. It'll eat your soul (just like folks used to think black people would). And make you a noodle. I in fact had so much difficulty controlling my hands to make the word "colorful" colorful that I wanted to give up on life.
But I am also getting really buff. So there's that.

Thinking the worst

I have a cognition disfunction.

My brain has wildly outrageous thoughts about how or why something is happening, even if that something is completely normal, or at the very least something to not think wild and outrageous thoughts about.

Now, some people would call this "being melodramatic" or "overreacting." But I can't help the way I think! I recognize how utterly ridiculous the things I think are, but can't seem to do anything about it.

Let me give you some examples.

What happened: I was in the shower and I heard a thump in my room.
What I thought: My suitemate is going to the hospital.
How I arrived at this conclusion: My first thought was, "Well something probably just dropped." But then I thought, "What if something fell?" Then I thought, "What if a PERSON fell??" Which then turned into, "What if my suitemate just got back from a party and she's super drunk and came into the room and passed out and fell over having a heart attack?? And now they're calling an ambulance and they're going to have to go to the hospital and I CAN'T GO WITH THEM BECAUSE I AM NAKED!!!"
What actually happened: My roommate's water bottle fell off of her dresser.

What happened: There was hair on our shower wall.
What I thought: A creepy stranger snuck into our room and put it there.
How I arrived at this conclusion: Earlier that day, my roommate and I came back and found bags of candy sitting on our beds. We did not know how they got there. When I was showering and saw the hair, my first thought was, "This is probably my suitemate's hair." And then, "But what if it's NOT?" And finally, "What if the same person who put those candy bags on our beds played a weird trick on us by GOING INTO OUR BATHROOM AND PLACING HAIR ON THE SHOWER WALL?!"
What actually happened: Our RA put the bags outside our door, and my suitemate saw them and brought them in and put them on our beds. That was very nice of her. Also, it was her hair in the shower.

After writing this down, I notice two common themes here. One: my first thought is usually logical. This is good. Now I just have to stop my psycho freak brain from spiraling that thought out of control. Two: This psycho freak thinking pattern seems to happen frequently in the shower....

Alas. It seems I value my hygiene more than my sanity.

Me being dumb

Exhibit A:

Recently my roommate graciously informed me that Mardis Gras is not, in fact, Spanish. I think I somehow knew, deep inside, that it was French. I probably blocked that information out, though, because I have a deep-rooted hatred for French. So many unnecessary letters.

Exhibit B:

In the Fall Out Boy song entitled, "Bang the Doldrums," I thought the lyrics were, "The yellow chicken calls," instead of "The yellow checkered cars." I mean, FOB is a little weird....so I thought that it was entirely plausible for those to be the lyrics. It's OK to write songs about farm animals. Duh, Old MacDonald had a farm full of them and everyone knows that dang song. 

Exhibit C:

Sorry to bring up the evil that is Lucky Charms again, but it must be done for the sake of evidence. I was supremely excited to see that my Lucky Charms contained hearts as I was eating them for Valentine's Day breakfast. I thought that they had a V-Day special, kinda like they have Boo Berry for Halloween. Alas, though, when I informed my roommate of my excitement, she simply stared at me before singing the Lucky Charms theme song: "HEARTS stars and horseshoes...."

I have a very tolerant roommate. And for this I am grateful.

OOTD Log 1: Lucky Charms are a LIE

I began the day today by spilling my lucky charms all over the place. The only lucky thing about that event is that the bowl did not yet have milk in it. Somehow, as I was closing the box, it grew malicious leprechaun claws and knocked the bowl over, spilling cereal all over my dresser (the makeshift kitchen counter in my dorm room) and the floor. This was a problem because a: I wanted to eat them, and b: I only had five minutes before I had to leave for class. So I got everything off the floor, filled the bowl with milk while keeping a careful eye on the carton to be sure that it did not grow malicious lactose hands, and ate what was left in the bowl.

Apparently my room becomes a sauna during my morning classes because when I returned and tried to clean up the mess on the dresser, the marshmallows had become a sticky, melty mess of badness that kept sticking to my hands instead of going into the trash can like it was supposed to. 

At this point, my roommate said, "It's just going to be one of those days, isn't it?" And I said, "NOPE. I'ma be fine." 

My vision clouded by these optimistic thoughts, I was completely unprepared for the printer dilemma that soon ensued. I had gotten a new ink cartridge, and my printer said, "Hey you should align this so your stuff doesn't print out crappy," and I said, "Ugh, fine." And so I did what the printer told me to, and it repaid me with pain and suffering. Ungrateful little fart. When I went to print off what I actually needed, I put in the three pages that it had neglected to print when I ran out of ink yesterday, and it started printing from the last page. But, alas, I needed the first three pages, so I clicked "Pause." And then I went to print the first three pages....and it didn't print. I tried like four more times before thinking, "Oh hey, one time when my printer was being all jank, my boyfriend fixed it by noticing that it was sending to the wrong printer." So I switched to send to D1600, even though it clearly says J3000 on my printer. And I tried a few more times and that didn't work so I switched it back to J3000 and restarted my computer. Then I restarted my printer. Then I decided to try printing from Safari instead of Chrome to see what that would do. And ONLY THEN did a box pop up that said, "You paused the printer. Would you like it to resume printing?" And I thought, "This is a joke. There is no effing way it was that easy." But it was, because then out popped the little printer icon with seven printing jobs. Seriously Google Chrome? How am I supposed to unpause the dang printer if you don't give me the option?

Also, I accidentally went to the third floor instead of the second on the elevator after doing my laundry, and therefore walked into the wrong room. Again. That girl is going to start recognizing me soon. She's gonna see me around campus and be all, "That's the freak that keeps walking into my room." Cool.

*Sigh.* It's just been one of those days...