Search This Blog

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Failures at Zelda

So this past Summer, my brother and I bought a GameCube and a bunch of games mostly because we missed Mario Kart double dash. And I remembered boyfriend telling me that Zelda was his fave game and so I was like, "I will buy Twilight Princess and play it!" And play it I did. These are some of my experiences with The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. Enjoy...

The beginning.
When I brought my GameCube to school, I set it up in boyfriends room because I have no TV. So I would go over sometimes and play Zelda, and he got super upset when he saw the names I had picked out when I'd started playing at home that summer...I mean, the game asked me what I wanted my name to be and what I wanted my horse's name to be, and so I chose names! I didn't think that was against the rules! But apparently, it's not OK to name Link after myself and to name my horse NayNay. Actually, my name in the game is KELLY and my horse's name is NAYNAY because I could not find the lowercase letters...but I thought that was such a clever name for a horse. Better than Epona. It was also entertaining because it always seemed like the characters were really excited about my names, cause they'd be like, "Hi there, KELLY. How is NAYNAY?" 

Jumping.
Boyfriend also ceaselessly made fun of my inability to jump...I would press the A button and then freak out that I wouldn't land right and so I would like jerk the control stick and end up landing in lava when I would have originally landed on a rock...I never did get the hang of that. It was very frustrating.

Fuckin plants, man.
I got very, very angry in the first temple. And this was because those stupid plants that look like Vile Plumes kept fucking eating me when I wanted to jump! I would go to jump over a gap in the wood and the plant would just, I don't know, suck me in from TEN FEET ABOVE IT with its little plant tendrils or whatever. And then it would hold me in its evil petals for a couple seconds and then spit me out after taking away half of one of my hearts. Rude. It took me probably three weeks to figure out how to throw the bombs in them. I kept not making it to the plants in time so the bombs would explode on me, which was the opposite of what I wanted. And finally little brother helped me destroy the Vile Plume-esque people eating plants.

Bosses.
I SUCK at facing the bosses. Like, I can't do it. Little brother or boyfriend would have to tell me what to do because it's not freaking intuitive and I would get confused and keep dying. 

So, here is what I have learned from this experience: boyfriend says that he loves video games because you work so hard to achieve something (beating a boss, getting the boomerang, etc.) that when you finally get it, you're like, "YES! I've done it!" But see, I never felt that. I would beat the boss and be like, "Well Jesus Christ, that took long enough. How many more of these are there?" Also, little brother says that half the fun of Zelda is that it doesn't really tell you what to do and you have to go find things on your own. Yay adventure! No. I don't enjoy wandering around for an hour trying to get whoever the hell's dumb cat back to them and he keeps running away from me, but OH, I just have to discover that if I buy a fishing rod and catch a fish for him, he'll follow me back to his owner. NO. That makes no sense. Just tell me what to do. This is why I like Mario Kart. Choose a character, win the race. That's all you have to do. It's not like you have to drive halfway around the track, bump bowser from the left side and push him into the lake, then steal his car, unlock the magic car wings that make it fly, and fly up to the finish line in the sky.

Simplicity, people, simplicity. 


Friday, April 27, 2012

Girls vs. Boys

So I was peeing a minute ago and I thought to myself, how nice would it be to aim? And that is when I decided that I should make a list of the pros and cons of being a boy or girl and see who wins. 

Girls: Pros

Boobies. They are fun to play with and also feed babies.
Vag. We don't have a bulky, extremely sensitive organ hanging between our legs. So that's nice.
Having babies. This is also a con, I suppose, because of the pain, but we also get the awesomeness of the mommy-baby bond. Can't be broken, yo.
Free drinks. Thanks for that, boobies. 
We can make ourselves look prettier with makeup. Woot!

Girls: Cons

Getting ready for stuff. The day, a dance, a date, whatever. We have hair and makeup to do. Boooo.
Lack of pee aim. As stated above, this is what started this whole thing. Why, pee, why do you decide to suddenly stream sideways? Just go down. Do it.
Period/PMS. Two weeks out of every month just suck. One week we're pissed off at everything and the next we're bleeding. Half our lives, people, half our lives. Until menopause. Oh yeah...
...Menopause. Yayyyy like PMS but for LONGER.
Having babies. I have heard it is painful.
Being overprotected. Daddy's little girl = harsh dating rules. Or no dating. Or just general restriction in the area of social life.

Boys: Pros

Pee aim. Well, I'll be honest, some of you suck at it. You have the ability. Use it! Don't get pee all over the toilet. Gross.
No PMS. Or bleeding. Lucky bastards.
Strength. You have the ability to open all the jars. 
No shirt. 'twould be nice to be able to walk around without a shirt. Probably keeps you cooler. 

Boys: Cons

Penises (actually, Penes). I'll just group it into one, but there are a lot of bummer things about them. Random boners, the fact that stuff comes out of it, it hurts if you hit it wrong. Penises are no fun.
Spending money. Even though it's always preached that dating rules have changed, etc., it's still common for the dude to pay. It adds up.
You can't use makeup to cover up pimples. HA.
Itchy beard syndrome. You know, when you don't shave for a day and then your face/neck is like, SCRATCH ME ALWAYS THANK YOU.
Dealing with ladies. I know I know, we get difficult around the PMS time and the menopause (I've heard). And if you love us, you gotta put up with it. Sucks.
Your voice during puberty. Cracky McCrackerson. 

Ok Those aren't even at all....I'm sure there are many more pros than I found. And probably cons too. Let me know what I missed in the comments. Slash who you think wins. I can't decide. I like being a girl, but being a boy seems nice too.

And for the love of god, my friends, send me your dangflab guest blog stories. Everyone keeps saying they will and then DOESN'T. DOOOO EEEEEET.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

I am a medication meddler

Roommate has a problem. Her problem is this: She doesn't take medication.

Now, I am a huge fan of medicines. I take them frequently—for allergies, headaches, so I don't get my eggo preggo, etc. And I know that there are a lot of people (mainly men...not to be sexist or anything...sorry) that have this complex that taking medication makes you weak or some shit.

IT DOESN'T. It's there because, I don't know, being in pain is shitty, and allergies are shitty, and getting pregnant when you don't want to is shitty. Not wanting to experience shitty things is not a sign of weakness. It just isn't. That's also why I don't understand why people don't go to the doctor...but I'll get to that in a minute.

So anyway, roommate the other day was like, "I don't feel good..." and she said her head hurt and her whole body was just kind of achy. And I was all, "Aw I'm sorry! You should take some ibu profen and lay down." And she said she would in a sec.

THREE HOURS LATER. We're watching Atlantis and roommate is like this pathetic ball of sad on the floor, curled up with her entire bed of blankets and pillows. And she keeps saying that she just needs to shower and go to sleep. And she finally showers and gets ready for bed, and then is sitting there on her computer and I asked, "So are you feeling better?" And she said not really, and I said, "Well did you take any pain killers?" And she said no. And I said, "OH MY GOD. WRENYTH. THEY ARE RIGHT THERE." And I pointed to them (they were literally right behind her) with my fingers that I have and I said, "I AM GOING TO POINT AT THEM UNTIL YOU PUT THEM IN YOUR MOUTH AND SWALLOW THEM," at which point I pointed. 

She laughed, but did not take any. So I added a foot. "DO YOU SEE THIS RIGHT NOW? I AM POINTING WITH MY HAND AND MY FOOT. DON'T YOU MAKE ME SORE FROM HOLDING MY APPENDAGES UP. DO IT. TAKE IT!!!" And she says, "I don't want to get up and get my water."

So I got up and got her goddamn water for her and handed her the pill bottle and she took some freakin ibu profen. Then guess what? She felt better.

ALL OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AVOIDED. Have you learned your lesson, medicine avoiders? No? Let me give you another, more extreme example.

My father doesn't go to the doctor. Maybe because he is a doctor and is confident that he can diagnose himself or whatever. So anyway, his foot started hurting one day. And he was like, "Hm. This feels like gout." And he said it would just get better with time, so he continued on with his life. Then like three months later he was like, "Damn, this still hurts. It actually hurts worse." And we were like, "DAD. For the love of god, go to the dang doctor." And he did. The diagnosis? Broken foot. My father had been walking around on a BROKEN FOOT for three months. 

People, if something hurts, take medicine for it. It's there to help you. Or go to the doctor. They are also there to help you. Problems: solved. You're welcome.

DON'T FORGET TO SUBMIT YOUR STORIES FOR A GUEST BLOG!!!

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

HEYYY YOUUUU GUYYYYS

You guys. YOU GUYS. I have had a wonderful idea of wonderfulness that is wonderful.

This (wonderful) idea (of wonderfulness) (that is wonderful) stems from a couple of things.

One: I have had more people than I had ever hoped tell me that they read my blog (THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU).

Two: I have hilarious friends. Seriously. I'm blessed in that I'm not the only one in my group who has hilarious/weird/shitty shit happen to them (hahaha shitty shit).

Three: My hilarious friends are grrrrreat story tellers. Like, they will have me in tears with tellings of their escapades.

SO. Here it is. Ready??

I want YOU (Yes, YOU!!!) to write a guest blog post for my blog!!! I know for a fact that boyfriend, roommates, and family and others of my friends have funny and excellent stories to share.

Email me with your stories here: ket0015@auburn.edu. I won't include names if you don't want me to! I never include anyone's names in my posts. But I will put you as the author if you wish!

This excites me greatly, so don't go and leave me hanging, cause that would be üüüüüüüüber disappointing. Submit, people, submit! It's funny, see? Cause that has a double meaning. Like, submit to my wishes, AND submit your stories.

Ok I'm done now. I'ma be checking my email like nonstop. There better be shit there from you guys.

LOVE YOU!

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Mosquitos and other things

I must update you all. It has been many days since my last blog (actually just 4) and much has happened. So! I tell you!

Firstly, suitemate made a new friend. His name is Gerald, and he is the dead mosquito hawk that has been squashed on the back of our bathroom door for pretty much the entire semester. They seem to have a lot in common. Or at least, the conversation is stimulating. Every time suitemate goes in there, she has something new to say to Gerald. For instance: "My, Gerald! You look lovely today. I love that shirt on you!" or, "You'll never leave me, will you Gerald?" or just a simple, "Hello Gerald!!" It's entertaining. 

Moving on!

I bought boyfriend Van Halen tickets for his birthday and the concert was Thursday. Because I am a poor college student and Van Halen is absurdly popular, I had to buy really shitty tickets because they were the only ones that cost less that 40 bucks per ticket. And floor tickets were 3,000 dollars. That is not a joke. So we were in the nosebleed section in the very top (section 408), three rows from the back wall of the stadium. Here is the view from our seats:


So we're sitting up there in section 408, and the usher lady in our section starts waving at us to come down. And we look at her like, "Us?" And she yelled something indecipherable to our far away ears and nodded, so we went down. And she was all, "You all need to go see this lady right over here," and she pointed to another usher in the next section. So we went over there and she goes, "Y'all are in trouble." My first thought was, "She's kidding. We have done nothing," and then my second thought was, "SHIT. What did we do???" But then she smiled and it turns out she was kidding. So she says, "How many are in your party?" and we said two and she says, "Ok we're gonna move you down there to the club section," and she points to seats that were three levels below us and almost right across from the stage. So we were like, "You're shitting us, right? Like this can't be real." Oh, but it was. So we got to be VIPs and go into the club section and it had a plush blue carpet and a private bar and bathrooms and our view improved immensely. Here is the view from section 107:


Great Scott. We don't know why this happened, but everyone that was sitting in the upper tiers that got there at 7 was moved down there. I'm cool with it. Such a good concert. Please enjoy these quotes from David Lee Roth:

"That was some Indian shit!" (after he made the little "ah-ah-ah-ah" sound you get when you hit your hand against your mouth)

"I forget the words every fucking night!! It's OK, it's OK. I was there when they wrote the song. I know the way! Follow me to the chorus!!"(after he indeed forgot the words to whatever song they were playing)

Also I cut my hair off. A foot of my hair, actually. Good. That is all.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The man

I have no idea what to write about today. So please enjoy this facebook wall post exchange between boyfriend and I:
Oh, this started because the other day I scared the crap out of him so he picked me up and flung me around which was terrifying cause I HATE being picked up. And I asked him why he did that and he said, "You need to know who's the man." And I said, "But I'm the man..." and this argument continued until he left. And then it continued on facebook. He posted on my wall, "I AM THE MAN." And this is what ensued...
  • ME: I, good sir, am the man.
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm the man.
  • ME: IIIIIIIIIIII AM THE MAAAAAAAN
  • BOYFRIEND: I am the man?
  • ME: i AM the man.
  • BOYFRIEND: I am the man....
  • ME: I. AM. THE. MAN.
  • BOYFRIEND: Iamtheman
  • ME: I am the man. The man, I am.
  • BOYFRIEND: The man am I.
    23 hours ago via mobile ·
  • ME: I-ay am-ay e-thay an-may
  • BOYFRIEND: A man is me.
  • ME: ‎..............We're talking about THE man here, Merv, not just A man. And I am THE man.
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm the A man.
  • ME: I am so much of the man that I don't even need a letter to qualify myself.
  • BOYFRIEND: Well at least I still have the pants.
  • ME: I have pants. I'm wearing pants right now. Know why? I think you do. It's cause I'M THE FREAKING MAN
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm in a suit.
  • ME: That doesn't make you the man. By that logic Rick Santorum is the man.
  • BOYFRIEND: THIS IS BETWEEN YOU AND ME.
  • ME: I have boobies.
  • BOYFRIEND: That is not applicable.
  • ME: Your suit isn't applicable. Boobies always win.
  • BOYFRIEND: Suit = Man + Pants. I all sorts of win.
  • ME: The suit doesn't make the man. You have to be man enough for the suit. I am man enough for a suit. Because I am the man. The one and only.
  • BOYFRIEND: Yet here I am, in a suit. The man.
  • ME: You are a wannabe the man in a suit. As I said, just cause you're WEARING a suit doesn't mean you are man enough for it. Me. I am.
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm more than "The Man" enough for this suit and you know it.
  • ME: I'm sorry what? I couldn't read your last post. I was distracted by the manliness fountaining from all of my pores.
  • BOYFRIEND: That's not manliness, that's gross lady-juice. You should really get that checked out, girly.
  • ME: You think you know what manliness looks like. You don't. You really should though, considering how often you see me.
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm beginning to rethink some of my life choices...
  • ME: Oh I see. I understand. It's hard to live in the shadow of the man.
  • BOYFRIEND: I'm...I'm just so confused....
  • ME: It's ok. Just one of the symptoms of too much exposure to the man. Just don't punch yourself in the face like a damn stupid confused pokemon.
  • BOYFRIEND: ow
  • ME: ‎*sigh* Enough. Return to your pokeball.
  • BOYFRIEND: *INSERT BOYFRIEND'S NAME HERE* ran away!
  • ME: And by default, *INSERT MY NAME HERE* wins the match!!! *crowd cheers*

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Really inconvenient muscles to pull

Do you ever have those days where you go to move some part of your body, and then some random part of that part of your body that you moved hurts? And it's not like one of those muscles that people pull pretty regularly. It's just some freak muscle that apparently overworked itself even though you didn't even know it was there.....

Am I alone in this?

Pulling your gill-ionemus. 
I pull this muscle pretty frequently. It is the muscle I use to make myself look like I have gills, like this: 


I enjoy making this face because it is really pretty impressive how far I can spread my neck out. And people laugh and I keep doing it and then I go to move my head the next morning and want to die.

Pulling your web-cep.
How, HOW, are there muscles between your fingers? I don't know how I pull that little webbing between my thumb and forefinger, but it happens like all the time. Maybe writing too hard? Guitar? Piano? Vigorous scratching? Bad shampooing technique? Ich weiss nicht.

Pulling your elbow-toid.
You know, it's that tiiiiiny tiny muscle like in the center of your elbow. You pull it from carrying to many grocery bags or in general holding something weighted while your arm is bent. In my case, it was a beach towel, a bag with a razor and a hair brush, and a sustain pedal.

Explanation for the above: AU Capella (OH MY GOD MY BOYFRIEND IS SO FREAKING TALENTED) had a concert tonight that was supposed to be outside, and so I brought my beach towel to sit on. It ended up being moved inside, but I digress. Suitemate left a ziplock bag with her razor and hair brush in my car after her dad gave them to her when he was visiting the other day because she left them at home. And I had the sustain pedal because the one for the keyboard at the concert wasn't working, and so I (Hero) ran back to my dorm and got mine. And I was carrying all this back from the parking deck in one hand because I was texting with the other one. 

I suppose I brought this on myself then.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Harry Potter and the Girl Who Gave Zero F@$#s.

That is me. I am the girl who gives zero fucks about Harry Potter.

Sorry.

I read the first two and a half books and got bored at some point and said, meh. I'm done. I did see most of the movies, though. Minus the last half of Deathly Hallows.

But anyway, despite my not caring about this series that has swept the world off of its feet and made so many people wait for their Hogwarts letter despite their 11th birthdays being long past, I decided to join Pottermore. I saw roommate on it and thought it looked fun.

So. My name is Holly Rook (actually hollyrook2662, friend me!!) and my wand is beech wood ten and three quarters length brittle with unicorn tail core and I am in Gryffindor which doesn't make any damn sense and I suck, SUCK, at casting spells. I am also relatively bad at finding those chocolate frog collecting card thingies. 

I was confused because I am not brave at all. Well, mildly. But not like, "I STARE BLACK BEARS IN THE FACE AND EAT THEM ALIVE WITH MY ALMIGHTY COURAGE" brave. But suitemates made me feel better by saying that I am brave because I send emails to everyone to tell them that they suck. Or, rather, that it's dumb to have blowers out at 6 a.m. or that parking is dumb or I call maintenance to fix things. But I don't really think that's bravery...that's more just getting shit done. So, if that's what Gryffindors do, then I suppose I belong there. I thought I would be Ravenclaw, but alas.

But I really would be the worst wizard ever because I try to cast these stupid spells and just utterly fail. If it were real I would be waving my wand about in the air like a moron and I would probably accidentally cast a spell that would make everyone turn into mosquitos and bite themselves like they were confused pokemon and Hogwarts would just be a terrible place to be after that. 

Also, the potions are dumb. I always do the first half fine and do something radically wrong in the second half. Actually, I mostly just put too many of the stupid ingredients that come in stupid shakers that you can't stupid shake right because, duh, you're using a MOUSE. Dumb idea, J.K., dumb. So I always accidentally shake out too many and my potion turns green and I cry because it took an hour to freaking brew. 

So yeah, I have difficulty finding things and I lose almost every duel I'm in and my potions have all failed so far, but I am having such fun with this. Seriously. No sarcasm. You should join. And then friend me. And then challenge me to a duel because you'll win and then you'll feel better about yourself. This is my gift to you.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Adele. But not.

I have begun writing a parody of Adele's "Someone Like You" that is based on my experience with the sickness over the past few days. It is called, "Something Like Flu." Enjoy eet.

I heard
Ringing in my ears
Cause I'm so congested
And I really can't hear
My word
Feel like I'm gonna puke
Guess I should lay down
And eat a saltine or two
Fever
Why are you so high?
Don't think I can stand up
With a temp of 103.9

I hate to lay here, feeling blue and unrequited
But I can't eat solid food, no, I have to fight it
Please don't look at my face
It's so pale, absent of color
And I feel like I've been run over

Listen doc, I've got
Something like flu
Might need medicine, a shot
Or just some chicken noodle soup
Oh my god, my aching head
Please give me some Sudafed
I just need to sleep and not get out of bed

*That is all I have so far. I would like to note that I was not actually this incapacitated. I just kind of went for what rhymed and generally had to do with the sickness.

Ok well I hope you enjoyed that...have a lovely night then.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

OOTD Log 3: The Sickness

I have decided that whenever I have One of Those Days, the events for which my blog is in fact named, that I will call them OOTD Logs. As in, I am logging something. Not as in a piece of a tree. 

Anyway, the past 24 hours of my life have royally sucked. ROYALLY. Only Prince Harry understands the suck that has occurred and is still occurring. Or something.

First things first: I have the sickness. I don't know what this sickness is or how I contracted it, but it is horrible. My throat feels and looks as if someone set it on fire. Everything in my nose is dripping down my throat, which is making me gag, and because of all of the mucus that now resides in my stomach I am consistently nauseated, but I know that if I throw up it's not gonna help cause my nose is just gonna keep on a'drippin'. I took a Sudafed and a Mucinex, but it's not freaking helping any. Simply wonderful. And if I eat anything other than soup my stomach gets upset with me. What, are you only happy with a diet of chicken broth and boogers, stomach? That makes sense.

Second things second: I bought four soups yesterday. Three for myself, and one to pay roommate back because she gave me soup last time I was sick. I made the creamy chicken (MY FAVE SOUP EVER) today. Now, in the soup from the little Campbell's cans, you have to add water to make the soup. And the creamy chicken soup was actually just cream in a can that I added water and milk to. But when I heated it, not all of the creamy went away, and so it was chunky and gross. I did not consume this disgustingness, and instead put it in the fridge in the hopes of finding a whisk at some point to get the chunkies out. So I made my last soup. And now if I don't find a whisk I will have to eat the soup that I bought roommate. This is a vicious circle. 

Third things third: My shower caddy, which is the kind that you attach to the wall via suction cups on the back, fell off for no reason while I was showering. And three razors (my old razor that I still have, my new one, and rooommate's razor that was sitting on the shelf below my caddy) fell on my feet and cut them. And I tried to put the caddy back up but the wall was wet and the suction cups were wet and it kept slipping and I got angry and yelled at it (literally) and decided I would wait and put it back up when I woke up this morning. So I laid it against the back wall of the tub and when I went to pick it up this morning, it was stuck to it. Sure, NOW you stick. And it was on there real good too. It was seriously a struggle to get it off that damn tub. 

My life is just a struggle right now. I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT, BODY. FINALS ARE COMING UP. SO HEAL YOURSELF. GO. LEUKOCYTES, UNITE AND FIGHT!! (What rhyming skillz I have!) 

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Your argument is invalid: Serious blog post is serious


I know this is a funny blog, but please read this post. It’s important to me to share this with you guys.

Allow me to give you a summary of what happened last night in my dorm. I heard roommate talking to this guy in the hallway about the board our RA had made regarding sexual assault. He asked what was up with it. She thought he was asking about RA boards in general, so roommate told him that every RA has to make boards. (These boards are basically like these big boards that the RAs decorate and choose some kind of theme and put information on it). Turns out he had his panties all in a twist because he didn’t think that there should be a board about sexual assault.

I was proud of myself for remaining calm and rational while he spat ridiculous arguments at me. But here is a rough account of what happened, with his arguments and my responses.

Argument #1: I’ve never heard about sexual assault so it doesn’t matter.
Response: The difference between the number of sexual assault cases that actually happen and the number that are reported is huge. People are sometimes not informed about what sexual assault is, and don’t know that it is something that you can report. He asked what sexual assault was, and I told him that it was any unwanted sexual contact.

Argument #2: Sexual assault is just when a man rapes a woman.
Response: It is considered ANY kind of unwanted sexual contact, whether a man assaults a woman or a woman assaults a man. It is not simply “intercourse.” Any kind of touching, grabbing, groping, etc. that the person receiving it does not consent to is sexual assault.

Argument #3: I never hear about it on the news so it doesn’t matter.
Response: The news is not and SHOULD not be the end all be all of what matters. Oftentimes there is no way to have evidence for a sexual assault case, so it won’t be advertised. There is so much in this world that matters that isn’t going to be on the news. Media is an often-corrupt information source that is going to talk about what makes them the most money.  He then responded with, “Well you always hear about murders. Or rape. Rape is a big deal.” And I told him that rape is the easiest type of sexual assault to prove or have evidence for. And murder is much more advertised because people know what it is, and they know that it’s wrong. But other kinds of sexual assault aside from rape may not be as well known.

Argument #4: It happened to them in their childhood so it doesn’t matter.
(He said this when he asked roommate if she knew anyone that had been sexually assaulted, and she said she knew several people that were assaulted in their childhood)
Response: Sexual assault, no matter when it happens, is something that will stick with you for the rest of your life. It can cause trust issues, problems in your sexual life, and mental trauma.

He ended up defacing the board by writing on it, “What is your ‘fucking’ problem,” and “You have issues.” I went over these in sharpie because they were rude and hurtful and completely unnecessary. Especially the “fucking” pun. That’s not funny at all. And this happened in a COLLEGE dorm.

The ignorance that this person displayed was truly astounding to me. And his opinion is invalid because he didn’t know what he was talking about. You can’t form an opinion on something without being educated about it. He didn’t even know what sexual assault IS. Also, I don’t know why he was SO riled up about it….

I really want to know, if this person became educated about sexual assault, if he could truly live with himself if he still thought that sexual assault shouldn’t be taken seriously. He probably doesn’t know, and I hope he never knows, what it feels like to be sexually assaulted. I hope I never know. But just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.

For more information on sexual assault check out these sources:



Here is a story about a man who received sexual abuse. It’s pretty intense, but more stories like this need to be shared:

Monday, April 9, 2012

Unnecessary crying and my famirry.

First, my tear ducts. They are suuuuper sensitive and it is embarrassing. 

Exhibit A: My eyes just water all the dang time. I actually can't wear eyeliner on my water line because my eyes are like, "What? Why you do this to me? It hurts me! MUST. SPILL. WATER." And they get all teary and the eyeliner flees my water line in favor of my lower eyelid. So annoying. This is not the makeup look I was going for.

Exhibit B: If I laugh for more than two seconds, there are tears streaming down my face. Not like welling up, but seriously taking a little trip down my cheeks like I invited them there. Rude. That's fine if I'm cracking up about something. But it's super awk if somebody says something that's only mildly funny and I'm freakin crying over here like they're Dane Cook or something. 

So I thought of this annoying feature that I possess because my famz was in town this weekend and my mom's tear ducts do that too. THANKS MOM. No it's cool. I mean it sucks but you're cool, so it's all good. And I just figured I'd tell you guys a little about teh famz. Cause they're crazy and hilarious and just excellent. 

So! Meet teh famz! 

Dad: OB/GYN, moonlights as a badass drummer in a hard rock/blues band. If he sneezes on you you'll move three feet back. He sneezes quite powerfully. Tis actually more of a scream than a sneeze. Frequently terrifies people when he sneezes in public. Sounds like Darth Vader. In fact, he did a Darth Vader impression to my first boyfriend on our first date by coming up behind him and saying, "Jacob, I am Kelly's father!" So that was cool. Enjoys discussing his career over dinner. Thus our dinner conversation frequently consists of vagina and surgery talk. To me this is normal.

Mom: Mary Kay consultant. This is good for me because all my makeup is free. Has overactive tear ducts just like I do, as previously mentioned. Is frighteningly good at contorting her face. We often have scary face contests. One day I will win. One day. Is a video taping master. Does an impeccable ostrich impression because she has hyperextended knees. Is now in possession of a titanium knee because of said condition. Sunburns easily. Is indulgent of father's dinner conversation. Lord God in our dog's eyes. 

Brother: High school junior. Three years younger, almost one foot taller than I. When I was doing my college visits, everyone thought he was the one there for the tour. People sometimes think we're dating if we're out to lunch together or whatever. Once allowed me to straighten his super curly hair. Laughs like a woman when you tickle him. Collects dragon statues. Is fond of me although I was a horrific older sister when we were kids. For example, I once convinced him that it would be a wonderful idea to go stand naked on the roof. He did. He was four. 

Thursday, April 5, 2012

DEUTSCH!!! And chickens.

I have a German test tomorrow, so I've been speaking and thinking a lot in German.
I'm sure some troll will be like, "WELL THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT IN GERMAN???"
Ich habe morgens eine deutsche Prüfung. Also spreche und denke ich viel auf Deutsch. 
Happy, troll??

Anyway, so the suitemates and I were discussing other languages and how hard it is to learn to write and speak (informally) in them. One suitemate brought up the example of telling jokes: "I have no idea how to make a joke in French. I would sound like an idiot. No one would think it was funny." 
I then tried to make a "Why did the chicken cross the road?" joke in German, and ended it with, because he was hungry (sticking with simple things here because it's a foreign language...). But instead of "Er hatte Hungar!" I said, "Er war Hungar!" Which makes sense in English, because we say "I was hungry." But in German, you say "I have hunger." So really what I said was that the chicken was hunger.

Which led to this whole ridiculous thing about The Hunger Chicken. And you better watch out, because when you see him coming, you will experience an insatiable hunger! He will follow you around and make your stomach growl until he sees fit to leave, yo. But the good thing is, there's only one Hunger Chicken, so you wouldn't be hungry very often. Cause he has a long way to travel. We live in a big world.

Ok, so clearly nothing interesting is happening in my life, because that was the most ridiculous post ever.

I lied. Something has happened. And what happened is that roommate and I did SIX SETS of 50 high knees, 10 burpees, 10 squats, and 10 abdominals. PLUS a three-minute bonus workout. So there's that. 60 burpees, people. 60. 

But that's not funny. And the chicken thing was. So I wrote more about that. There would be no humor in me expanding the whole workout thing...

But maybe there would be because suitemate watched us do it and laughed the whole time and told us we looked like armadillos when we did burpees. But really I looked more like a wet tomato. Because I was red and very, very sweaty.

And I sweat a lot.

Ich bin so ungeordnet...