Thursday, June 19, 2014

lord of The fruit Flies

I'd really like to share this wee little anecdote about the chaos that is my life right now.
Fruit flies.
Fruit flies everywhere.
I saw on youtube that a great, proven way to get rid of a swarm of fruit flies is to take a small dish, fill it with apple cider vinegar, cover it with saran wrap, and poke some fork-holes in the top. I'm not really sure how exactly, but somehow it worked, and after about a week of this little dish full of atrocious smelling vinegar sitting atop my microwave, there are about 15, maybe 20 fruit flies floating around in there.
Now, I guess you could say that I'm a greedy bitch, because 15, maybe 20 fruit flies just wasn't enough for me. No, I had to leave out my little fruit fly graveyard day after day, in hopes of claiming even more fruit fly lives. Karma didn't like this much, and when I opened my microwave door yesterday to retrieve my glorious steaming quinoa veggie burger, that graveyard came tumbling down, dousing not only said glorious steaming quinoa veggie burger, but myself with the atrocious vinegar, which at this point, had been marinating the corpses of 15, maybe 20 fruit flies for over two weeks.
And, as if that weren't enough, the last of the fruit flies have gotten together and had copious amounts of baby fruit flies. So naturally, I'm right back to where I started. I don't think I'm mentally healed enough to get out the apple cider vinegar just yet.
I can still smell it. *shivers*

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

where do You see yourself in 10 Years?

Heyyo mama, how 'bout this one? Purrdy.
Living in Maine. Driving a car that is reliable and gets reasonable gas milage and isn't leaking power steering fluid so badly that I have to refill the reservoir everyday because I can't afford the small fortune that it would cost to fix said leak. Owning in a small house with old New England-style charm and a kick ass garden brimming with sunflowers and tulips in the summer months. It's not exactly a shot in the dark to say that I will be living in there alone because- let's face it- #foreveralone. I will however, have somewhere around three cats, two dogs, maybe a bunny, possibly a horse or two. Just ball parking here. Oh, and some hens so I don't have to feel bad about eating eggs anymore. Maybe a cow too, if she gets along with my horses.
...sorry? Oh, you meant career-wise!
HAH. Yeah, I've got nothing. Can we make "professional napper" happen?
Is that a thing?

Sunday, April 14, 2013

"ingenuity? i Do not Understand".

After a not-so-brief hiatus of about a year and some persuasion from my sister, I've decided to pick up pace again with this little shindig. In the year of my little hiatus, I've moved from the stereotypical fishbowl world of high school and flopped into a bigger tank- college. So far, love it, as anyone would, but found myself wishing more and more that I had this blog to vent. Back home I wrote infrequently because frankly, while there are some blog-worthy fish in my hometown, crossing paths with the kind wasn't a daily occurrence. Now, living on such a big campus, it still isn't a daily occurrence, but an hourly one. 
But first, let me set some groundwork: I am not under the impression that I am some sort of "Coco Chanel-esque" wonder child myself, not by any stretch of even the most fickle of imaginations. However, though I may not dress like Coco, flatter myself by believing that I think like her. (I do share her love for a sophisticated pant-suit and tweed overcoat). 
Honestly, is it so hard to take a small step (or even a bounding leap) towards originality? By all means, feel free to dress like a bum- whatever toots your horn. But even bums don't all look identical like some sort of twisted iRobot movie. Leggings, knee-high boots and a long sleeve cotton tee was, like most fashion trends, cute when it was sparse. Everyone knows that too much of a good thing will kill you. 
That may not have been the best analogy. I'm not threatening lives here. Not yet anyways! Hah...okay. 
Another thing that I cannot wrap my head around is this "high-low" trend that has plagued the globe. I call them mullet skirts: business in the front, party in the back, and ugly all over. For most trends, there is a cycle. It goes in style, out of style, downright embarrassing, "what were we thinking", then swings right back around to in style again. Though for mullet skirts, I foresee it getting to "what were we thinking", and then just taking on the broken record effect. If I have any say in the matter, the ghastly design will live on solely in pictures, like scrunchies and beehives and those strange looking sneaker wedge things:
Trend (noun):
1. tendency: a general tendency, movementor direction
2. prevailing style: a current fashion or mode

If this is what is considered a "prevailing style"I cannot wait until the next trend comes running up like Napoleon on his ass (yeah, ole' Nappy didn't have a horse, as he was vertically challenged, so they hoisted his royal shortness atop a donkey) and spears this monotonous bitch straight through the heart. 

Thursday, November 10, 2011

hey, Men faint Too You know!

In my Biology class, as previously mentioned in my "sperm, Sperm" post, we're covering sexual reproduction, and the other day, we got to watch a video in the lab with a surprise ending! A live birth scene! "Giving birth is one of the most amazing experiences a woman can have." HAH. I actually snorted when I heard that. I've never had a baby, but I think it's safe to say that none of a woman's thoughts while in labor would be even remotely along the lines of "wow! this is amazing!". It's a pretty intense sight, and I'm sure anyone would have a hard time keeping their eyes on the screen without cringing and looking away. I suppose women come with a natural knowledge of what giving birth would look like, while men on the other hand, do not. At least, that's what I gathered from from my male classmates' reactions. At the end of class, my professor actually confessed that one of her students (male, of course) a few semesters prior had actually fainted!
Now, on that note, let's think about this for a second. Can we all just take a second and picture what giving birth looks like, in order to prevent being blind-sighted in the future and loosing consciousness at the sight?

((While looking for a picture to insert here, I came across this. While it doesn't really go with what I'm talking about at all, it made me laugh extremely hard.))
((They can't even help him up, because they're in uniform and they cant move! They just left him there until the parade was over! HAHAHAHAHA!))

Okay, moving on.
Warning: I am about to branch off into a totally irrelevant but somewhat entertaining tangent.
I was getting a cup of coffee at 7Eleven the other morning, and I'm broke, so I pay in change. I had exactly $1.70 and a medium coffee costs $1.69. However, when I gave her my money and waited expectantly for my penny, the cashier just stared at me, smacking her Bubblicious.
"Do you want your penny?"
Um. YES? It's my penny! Why would I not want it?
But of course, my non-confrontationalist, nonchalant alter ego just said cooly, "Oh, no. It's fine." and I WALKED AWAY. And now, I can't stop thinking about that damn penny. My college fund was set back one 100th of a dollar because I couldn't assert myself at a 7Eleven at 8 o'clock in the morning.
And, as if that wasn't bad enough, my coffee tasted like cough medicine.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Ventures of voluminocity-Ish-Ness.

I wanted to find a new hairstyle today. And it just happened to be the day when I tried for more volume in my hair. I read this article online that says you can get more "voluminous" hair if you flip your head upside down and blow-dry the roots of your hair while it's still wet. 
Like most of my spontaneous ventures, the idea made sense at the time, so I got out my blow dryer and went for it. When my hair felt relatively dry, i flipped my head right side up again, only to find that instead of my hair looking like the girls in the picture, I had a bona fide afro. 
Literally! And- thank the good Lord- my hair doesn't normally look like that, so I did what any normal teenage girl would do. I freaked.
So, with the hopes to make the afro go away, I decided to douse my hair in the shower with water. I had just taken a shower, and I didn't feel like taking another one, so I just got a towel out and put it around my shoulders. I have one of those detachable shower heads, so I was leaning back into the shower, not wanting to get my clothes wet. But I put the thing too close to my head, and it got tangled in my 'fro. I was yanking on the spout, trying to get it untangled, when I dropped it and it went crazy; spewing water ALL OVER THE BATHROOM. By the time I got it turned off, it seemed like the only thing that wasn't drenched was MY HAIR. 
Needless to say, I won't be doing that again.

^^^ This is something I wrote back in 2008 for a former blog. Regardless, I find myself still making this mistake over and over again. I just can't resist. The logic seems flawless! Something about blowdrying your hair upside down is just magical, apparently, else I would have stopped the day I wrote this three years ago.
I am forever cursed with flat hair.
((Today was a bad hair day for me, if you couldn't gather.))

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

"sperm, Sperm"

Looking back at the past few entries I posted, I realize that they're pretty...depressing? The last thing I want to do is sound like a solemn, pessimistic teenager, so I made a promise to myself that my next post would be less about the things that aggravate me, and more about...(yes, this was a legitimate pause in my thought process. What else is there to write about?) ...some of the things that have happened to me in the past few days.
Forgive me if my assumption is incorrect, but I'm fairly certain that we all have had our fair share of embarrassing moments. If you haven't ever done anything that made you want to run and hide in a ditch and never show your face again, than you my friend, are a cyborg, and I am sorry. I however, and very much not a cyborg, and have moments like those daily. For instance, yesterday in Bio 1, I found myself reading my new book, Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan during the 15 minute break we have when my professor says shes going to make copies, but is really going to kick her son out of her office, who frequently snoozes on the sofa. ((Side note: John Green is one of my three all-time favorite authors, and if you haven't read any of his books, I command you to. Right now.)) 
While I am only on page 70-something, the book is proving to be exponentially funny. One line in particular on page 57 from David Levithan, reads “...even Roger, our square-headed manager, is telling us that he and his wife are going to be 'having a night in' – wink wink, nudge nudge, hump hump, spew spew. I'd rather picture a festering wound with maggots crawling into it.” As soon as I read “spew spew”, I was straining to hold back my laughter. It was like that terrible moment when you realize you have a monstrous sneeze coming on in the middle of a dead-quiet exam, except I was about to burst out into a laughing fit. And as fate would have it, this moment was the exact moment that my professor walked back into the room, ready to pick up the lesson. Not just any lesson though, my lovely readers. No, the chapter scheduled for today was the one on sexual reproduction, a topic that never really stops being uncomfortable, no matter what age you are.
So the embarrassing part of this whole story is the fact that I was still giggling about “spew spew” when she started to throw around “sperm sperm”. Thus, the entire collegiate class now thinks I have the maturity level of a 12 year old boy, seeing as a large portion of them were glancing my way as I covered my mouth, trying to suppress my toothy smile.
Next on my daily list of embarrassing moments is one that I was lucky enough to be the only witness to. Long story short, it involved a door and a moment of confusion concerning wether it was push or pull. I found myself fiercely yanking on a classroom door that was a “push” door, which, in my defense, was not clearly labeled. This is really something us embarrassment-prone people should work on, especially us blondes. It's not like we don't have a bad enough reputation for this kind of thing already.
Fun fact: I'm in the car driving to Orlando at the moment to visit my sister. No, I'm not literally driving, obviously; I managed to mooch a ride off of someone else this time, which is nice.
Until next time. Or whenever I have another embarrassing moment. Which will be tomorrow.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

join My revolution...Please?

To be completely honest, there aren't many things I hate. I hate small dogs. I hate unsharpened pencils. I hate tripping in public. But something I hate more than almost anything else is a certain commonly used, everyday salutation. And don't act like you haven't ever used it before, either- because I know you have.
How are you?
ARGH.  Nothing bothers me more than when people ask this question. Now don't get me wrong- it's a feasible question. You see a family member that just got out of the hospital, and you ask them "how are you?" because you really want to know if open heart surgery really hurts as bad as they say it does. Or, you meet up with a good friend who just went through a bad breakup, and again, you ask "how are you?" because you want to make sure that they're staying away from a rebound relationship. All good reasons to want to know how someone's day has been, thus giving someone an excuse to use that vile salutation.
But do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, use that damn phrase for any other occasion. I can't even tell you how many times I have been out on a jog and and hear "Oh hello! How are you?". Honestly, it drives me absolutely insane.
And don't take this the wrong way. I understand perfectly that it's just considered the "polite" or "neighborly" thing to do. But the way I see it, it's exponentially rude.
Why? Let's face it: they don't really care! Anyone who asks you this on the street- stranger or acquaintance- isn't the slightest bit eager to know just how your day has been going. Yet they ask, with no intention of actually caring about whatever your answer will be. Then you answer, "good" most all of the time, though sometimes "great" and the occasional "okay". And BANG- three seconds of your life are gone. Just like that. Three valuable seconds dropped from your quota with Father Time, and for what?
Nothing, that's what. You've just wasted a portion of your life partaking in something more pointless than the indestructible plastic packaging headphones come in nowadays.
I know it may seem like it, but i'm actually not a pessimist. But this is my kryptonite.
So please, join my revolution! Don't ask the forbidden question unless you are honestly going to care about what the answer is.
Merci. Grazie. Danke. Gracias. Thank You.