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.