Tag Archives: humor

Bread Explodes Ducks

26 Jun

Hey guys!

When I was a tiny human, the park nearest to my home was known for one thing– the Thug Duck.

He was this clean, normal looking duck until you got really close. If you weren’t close enough to the pond to threaten him, you could lure him to the shore with bread crumbs. Slowly, he’d come a little bit closer.

At the top of his little duck head, all of his feathers were up turned– almost as if he were trying to mimic the Elvis pompadour or a feathery afro.

He walked with such a heavy limp, but that wasn’t quite normal either. It was like watching Long John Silver from the Muppet’s Treasure Island. The character literally did not have a leg, and would have swing his peg back and forth to maneuver himself across a cramped ship kitchen. This duck walked just like that.

He’d swing his leg forward with every step and we were never sure whether to pity him… or whether he was a duck with swagger. Honestly, we felt like it would have been rude to ask.

He had this look in his eye, too. Like if you got too close, he’d rip your leg off. You would think, Oh ducks can’t do that. Tiny beak. large human leg. Math. But you’d be wrong– and if you looked this duck in the eye, you’d know that.

More recently though, at this local park, a friend and I were walking around a pond and kept seeing these strange signs everywhere:

 

duck1

If you came to this blog expecting high art, you have another thing coming, bro.

So, apparently, we can’t feed ducks bread anymore. Neither of us really knew why. There were dispensers all around the pond full of “duck food”– which really just looked like dog food.

Occasionally one would look at us with a glimmer of hope, only to see us grab stuff from the dispenser. The ducks just waddled off sadly when we tried to offer them food.

Meanwhile, the geese had a ravenous look in their eye. They looked like they wanted to goose us to death– then again, that’s how the geese always look.

After some highly intellectual deductions, my friend and I decided that the sign meant:

duck2

I imagine that it would explode in a ball of flame and gas, but maybe it’d explode into a mess of candy and confetti. I don’t know. I’ve never exploded a duck before.

Really, that was the only logical conclusion.

Unfortunately, I haven’t seen the Thug Duck since I was in high school…but I’m certain he went out in a blaze of glory.

In other news, I’ve finished listening to “The Ocean At the End of the Lane”, written and narrated by Neil Gaiman. He is a fantastic narrator, but you can read my full review on goodreads if you are so inclined.

I’m now listening to “Guilty Pleasures” by Laurell K. Hamilton. It was free through my public library, and I’ve heard great things about it as an urban fantasy novel with vampires in it. It sounded like a good read.

… but y’all. I cannot get five minutes into it without giggling.

I think something in me is broken. Well, sort of. Maybe.

It is narrated by a lady who has this tendency to make the guy voices sound– oh my goodness, they sound hilarious. Plus, my natural immaturity comes out when I have a story like this one read out loud… I don’t know if I’ll end up finishing it.

I work in disability insurance, guys. If I start giggling in my cubicle, people will think I’ve gone mad.

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Audiobooks with Joe ‘Damnation-For-All” Smith

11 Jun

My first experience with audiobooks was as a teenager. As a busy person who spent most of my time between AP study groups and band practice, reading was only something I did in short bursts—like, in those moments when the trumpet section had to spend half an hour working through their part, while the rest of us had to sit there and wait.

Thankfully, we never had any trumpeters with much skill.

Since I was so caught up between school, extracurricular, and copious amount of internet use, I decided to try audiobooks. After all, they’re something you can listen to while studying or while driving. Sure, you can’t listen to them while playing the flute, but you can only expect so much from the world.

In between band and school, though, I actively participated in a church youth group, and I got it in my head to attempt to read the entire bible. Yeah, I was that kid. Also, if you haven’t noticed, the bible is huge. Like the size of the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, including all the appendices and The Hobbit. I didn’t have the time, much let the energy to power through it all… so I decided to try an audiobook.

As a student, though, I was cheap and clever. Many classics, including religious texts, can often be found for free as an audiobook, if you search the internet hard enough. For “The Holy Bible”, I found the audiobook under ‘Podcasts’ from iTunes. It had every book narrated by the same guy—seemed legit… until I turned it on.

Immediately, the audio starts with the sounds of thunder and lightning. It goes on for a bit—for dramatic effect, I assume—until a loud booming voice burst into my headphones saying “IN THE BEGINNING”.

I can only imagine that in some studio, there was some older gentleman reading the bible. Then, he is stopped. A producer peeks out from behind his monitor to say, “Try it again. But this time, make your voice deeper—almost scary. Think: hell fire, the plagues, floods to destroy mankind, top it off with a pinch of damnation. Remember, you’re competing against the thunder that we’re putting in the background.”

I couldn’t make it past thirty seconds… and the worst part is that I listened to the first 30 seconds to minute of at least 10 books—and all of them were like that. All of them.

After that, it was a while before I dared pick up another audiobook.

More recently, however, I’ve gotten a job where I’m alone in my cubbie, talking to no one for most of the day. I could listen to the back noise of the office—people walking, the drip coffee makers, the mumbling of a couple of radios, the fax machine… that damn fax machine. OR I could put my headphones on and listen something.

After I went through my entire iTunes library, I decided to delve into audiobooks again—only, this time, it wouldn’t be a free version of The Holy Bible narrated by Joe “Damnation For All” Smith.

Instead, I picked up “Howl’s Moving Castle” by Diana Wynne John narrated by Jenny Sterlin.

Guys, oh my gosh, y’all. It was awesome.

Jenny Sterlin had the perfect voice for this book. She was able to sound formal and smart for younger Sophie, and switch to the old and wily Sophie when she needed to. Even outside of the dialogue, her voice gave me that nostalgic feeling of being a third-grader again. I could remember sitting on the floor of my classroom, listening to my teacher read us a story. There was that feeling of nostalgic captivation throughout the entire story.

Now, I’m somewhat obsessed with finding audiobooks with great narration. I’ve finished Howl’s Moving Castle, and decided to pick up “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” written/narrated by Jenny Lawson—aka The Bloggess. (Really, if you don’t know who she is, you should crawl out from under that rock you’ve been living under and google it).

I figure, a book narrated by the same person who wrote it had to be pretty good, right? Right. Totally

Update: I’m now between three and four hours into “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”– it’s hilarious. I listened to the chapter on her experience in human resources and was laughing in my cubicle. My co-workers gave me looks of judgement. They’re totes jelly.

Peace out my home slices!

Just Being Honest

23 Apr

Hey y’all!

Sometimes, I wonder what high school people go to where they did not learn that bathrooms echo.

Fun fact, walk into any woman’s bathroom, and your voice will carry and echo—you’re conversation isn’t like Bilbo trying to sneak past Golum, all quiet and sneaky and successful. No. At best, you’d be more like Bill the Pony just wanting to follow Sam into the Mines of Moria like a faithful little pony… but you can’t because you’re just a pony…

Or, you’re like Pippin when everyone’s trying to quiet and stealthy up in those Mines of Moria– because everyone know those mines are filled with orcs. But then, because you’re not the brightest crayon in the hobbit crayon box, you stumble into a skeleton and push it down a well. Now everyone knows y’all are in Moria, Pippin. Pippin! You fool of a Took!

Right. Point being, there’s no chance you’re going to be successful.

When I walked into the bathrooms at work the other day, I heard something that I haven’t heard in a long time:

Now, I’m just being honest…

That phrase caught my ear—probably because I haven’t heard it since high school. I thought people grew out of the phrase. I thought people understood. I guess, hoping that I’d never hear that phrase again was like hoping Sam would ever get his precious pony back.

When people say, “Now I’m just being honest”, it seems like what they literally mean is “this is my subjective-somewhat-exaggerated-opinion”. Any logical person would think that “I’m just being honest” was something you could take literally—but no.

The idea that you had to preface this sentence with the phrase “Now, I’m just being honest” is a huge red-flag for me. What were you doing at every other point in this conversation? Lying to me? Lying to yourself? Telling Bill the Pony that Sam will be back in a minute?

Sam will not be back in jiffy, Bill, and you are not “just being honest”.

When I was a little bitty human being in second grade, I looked a bit like a hobbit, as most kids do. Every Monday our teacher would do a “characteristic of the week”, and, more than one week, we had honesty. It was around this time when I first heard this phrase.

The teacher would say, “Honesty is very important. Can you think of any good examples of someone being honest?”

Then that one kid—there’s always ‘that-one-kid’, even in the 2nd grade—would say, “Sometimes, cheaters tell the teacher on themselves and that’s honest.” That kid would get a gold star and sucker from the teacher.

This unleashed a spree in my second grade class. Suddenly, every kid who had ever done anything wrong would be like, “TEACHER! I CHEATED!” And, because they were being honest, they’d get no punishment AND a sucker.

Chaos. Mayhem. Destruction– 2nd grade.

When people say, “I’m just being honest”, my brain comes back to that. I imagine that this 20 to 40 year old woman gossiping in the bathroom was once a second grade girl who learned the definition of honesty, put it into practice, and got a sucker for it.

The thing is, we aren’t in 2nd grade anymore. “Just being honest” isn’t a pass to say or do whatever you want, bro— and you can’t throw a skeleton down the well and expect Gandalf to be alright with that.

I thought this was a basic fact that you learned in 3rd grade, around the same time you learned that gossiping in the bathroom was a terrible idea because bathrooms always echo…

Peace out, my home slices!

P.S. I made some more typographic things. I’ve posted them below, but, for the future, I’ll probably just throw them onto:

Pinterest or Tumblrthe fault

booktheif

The Glorious Grilled Cheese

3 Mar

Hey y’all! I’m Not Paula Deen, and I’m going to teach how to cook a great American classic– grilled cheese.

For those of y’all how have not had the pleasure of experiencing the glory that is the grilled cheese sandwich… go ahead and crawl out of that rock you’ve been living under. Grilled cheese is a heavenly combination of bread, cheese, and butter that could make even Paula Deen weep.

Earlier today a week or so ago, one of my favorite beauty vlogers, Essie Button, deviated from her normal videos and put up a video on how to make grilled cheese and— holy moly, it’s awesome.

Now, as a tride and true citizen of the state of Georgia, I have my own ways of making grilled cheese, so I decided to follow Essie’s directions and mix in my own flair for grilled cheese and see the result.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures until I was half way through eating it– so I’ve illustrated the steps with the memories from my brain.

Step One:

Ascertain boyfriend.

Well, I don’t have a boyfriend so I have mythical dragon at my side. He wears an apron too.

dragon

This is my dragon: Benny Dark-Lord-Of-Death. His apron would have had words and color…. but ain’t nobody got time for that.

Step Two: Bread time.

Essie used some uber fancy bread… but we’re a bit more simple than that up in my house. So I have a regular kroger brand bread– really, though, the important part is the crust. The crust is one of the best parts of the grilled cheese. Instead of using fancy bread, I use the two end pieces of the loaf. True story bro. It’s legit.

Step Three: Add fire.

QUEENT OF FIRE

As the Queen of Fire, my grilled cheeses tend to be extra crispy.

Normally, I’d use my stove– but, today, I have a dragon. So, instead of using the stove, you have to carefully balance the skillet on the nose of your dragon, much like a seal with a beach ball.

However, make sure you don’t tell your dragon that he’s like a seal with a beach ball because it will piss him off. Dragons like to think of themselves as fearsome beasts that haunt the nightmares of everyone– from small children to seasoned warriors. Therefore, while you are cooking your sandwich, be sure to encourage your dragon by saying things like:

Oh my gosh, you look so fearsome when you use your fiery-breath.

The sound you make when lighting a fire is like the sound of a thousand screaming children, or the whimper of dying kittens.

Or even,

This sandwich is going to be crispier than that village you burned up last week.

Step Four: IT’S BUTTER TIME Y’ALL!

Essie added butter exactly where the sandwich is– but here in Georgia, Paula Deen is our state mascot, and we know better than that. Take your butter and spread it all over the pan. If you find yourself asking: is this enough butter, add a bit more and maybe that’s enough.

Step Five: It’s Cheese Time

Essie used pre-sliced cheese, and I’m all up on that. Just make sure that you don’t have too much coming up over the side of the bread, because the excess will melt and burn to the bottom of the pan.

Personally, I like to add a bit of cilantro, parsley, salt, and pepper at this point because it makes me feel like I actually know what I’m doing in the kitchen.

Step Six: Eggs, Bacon, Awesomeness

In her video, Essie just made a regular grilled cheese, but I woke up at noon today and wanted some breakfast.
I made scrambled eggs and hoisted it on top of the sandwich after I added the cheese, and you could do the same with bacon, salami, or whatever you like to have in your grilled cheese sammich.

Step Seven: The Other Bread

Stick the other piece of bread and put it on top of your cheese and egg mountain. Think of it like Bilbo Baggins has just gotten to the Misty Mountains and has seen the treasure of cheese and egg guarded by a great and terrible dragon– our metaphorical bread dragon.

Apparently, there are many dragons involved in the making of a grilled cheese. Who knew?

Step Eight: Acrobatics!

After a few moments, when the bottom piece has gotten all nice and crispy, you’ll need to flip it. This part get’s a bit tricky because your dragon assistant is already balancing your pan precariously on his nose, and now you have to use a spatula and try to flip it.

Step Nine: Reassembly

Now that you’ve dropped your sandwich, and it’s contents are spread chaotically across your skillet, it’s time to reassemble. Don’t worry, it’s not too hard: bread, egg, cheese, crispy bread.

Step Ten: Mo’ Butter

To add butter to the other side of the sammich, Aslan and Essie picked up the sandwich and added the butter.

I, however, am lazy. I scoot the flipped sandwich to the other side of the pan and, on the empty side, I toss in some butter. Once it’s mostly melted, I scoot the sandwich back over.

Yeah, I’m a boss.

Step Eleven: Plate time!

Once your bread is nice and crispy, your sandwich is pretty much done, bro. Tell your mythical dragon that his reign of chaos and destruction will have to be saved for another day.

Congratulations! You now have a delicious grilled cheese sammich!

This would have been a picture of a grilled cheese, but I ate it before I even thought about taking a pic.

This would have been a picture of a grilled cheese, but I ate it before I even thought about taking a pic. Needless to say, light came down from the heavens and shined on me whilst I ate it.

Being Adult: They See Me Rollin’. They Hatin’.

15 Jan

Let me assure you, they are not “tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty”. The Po-po, that is. The police. I don’t drive around with illegal drugs is what I’m trying to say.

Now that we’ve gotten past that unnecessary clarification, I have a few stories to tell you.

The day after I got my drivers permit, my mom took me out to the local library to begin learning how to drive. This was possibly the worst idea my mom has ever had.

When we got there, the library was crowded—apparently my library has a rush hour. who knew?—and I was a ball of anxiety. Sure, I was only going ten miles in a parking lot, but those videos of deceased teens that drove off an icy road, drove home drunk, etc were the only thing could think of. It felt like my ultimate doom, my final game over, those ill-mannered fates that were determined to destroy me would all collide in this library parking lot.

Luckily, I didn’t die.

Unluckily, I did back into a light post… it just came out of nowhere.

lamppost

Don’t let that concrete brick at the bottom of the lamp post fool you. Lamp posts are like ninjas. Concrete can’t stop them.

After that, I didn’t drive for the next two years, leading me to only get my drivers license when I was 20.

Even now, when I drive there is this overwhelming sense of nervousness that escalates when I see other drivers being worse at driving than I am. It takes a really special person to do that—or maybe just an intoxicated person.

You never really know what road rage feels like until someone pulls out in front of you when you’re going 45 mph… and then keeps their blinker on for the next five miles… and is also blaring their music as if the whole world wanted to hear it—fun fact: your music sucks.

My natural response has always been a high level of sarcasm.

Really? You couldn’t just wait could you? After all, your life is so important that the rest of us are just obstacles to be overcome.

Nice blinker, bro. It’s so much fun to use your blinker. Really, when you’ve already determined to be a crap driver, go ahead and leave your blinker on. No one knows what the hell you’re doing anyway.

Sarcasm, however, only makes me more frustrated and impatient. It doesn’t help me get over the fact that people are rude and partially blind sometimes—and my driving becomes that much worse.

Lately, however, I had an idea, which has been working pretty well over the past couple of weeks.

Disclaimer: if you try this in front of other people, they will be instantly weirded out. If you’re like me, it’s nothing new. My friends have come to expect this, but when you’re driving with someone who doesn’t know you very well—or your parents—you may want to repress it. Just don’t do it.

Okay, then.

Let’s say, some lady is talking on her phone and talking to her friend sitting shotgun—multitasking as it is. BUT, she is also driving right in front of you. You know exactly what she is doing because she just pulled her Prius out of the Alcove Coffee parking lot two feet in front of you, and you had to bring your massive minivan to a grinding halt. Thus, your headlights are now illuminating her entire car.

You can see her coffee cup. You want coffee.

You can also see how fluffy her hair is. She kinda’ looks like a poodle, but, really, a poodle knows better than to jump out in front of a minivan.

Right now, you want to scream profanities to the high heavens so loud that she, her friend on the phone, her friend sitting shotgun, and their next five generations to come can all hear it.

But don’t.

Take a moment and calm down. Then remember, there’s something deeper going on here.

She’s not merely a crazy lady who has gotten so careless in her driving that she felt confident in endangering the lives of those around her. No.

She is a dinosaur. Literally. She is the spirit of an old dinosaur god of pre-history stuck in the body of a human. She’s talking to other members of the Alpha-Wolf-Dino-Squad on her phone and arranging to meet them in the park. She, her dinosaur brethren, and some part-time recently recruited werewolves are meeting up tonight to take down a dangerous clan of vampires determined to convert the entire population of your city to their vampire clan thing.

That person next to her is a young woman who recently discovered that she had the spirit of one of these dinosaur gods living inside her. Her presence has turned the tables in the favor of the Alpha-Wolf-Dino-Squad. Their victory is almost assured.

Sure, she is driving like she is five different types of intoxicated—but she is currently repressing her anger for fear that her body will transform into its natural dinosaur form.

Who wants to be driving behind a brontosaurs that has just torn through a Prius?

No one. Brontosauruses are slow and take up two lanes. Traffic would be terrible.

words

The view of a brontosaurus in front of you from behind your windshield. Fortunately, brontosauruses are vegetarians, so she won’t try to eat you.  Unfortunately, dinosaurs don’t have blinkers or break lights, so she’ll probably hit you.

Instead, you keep your distance. That way, if she does transform, her tail won’t side-swipe you.

 

Sure, that guy right next two you saw your blinker and, instead of slowing down or speeding up, is going the same speed as you. He may seem to be speeding up and slowing down exactly as you do and refusing to let you over. But there is something deeper going on

He has mistaken your car for the minivan that his daughter drove—the same daughter who whose minivan was hijacked by a group of rogue shape shifters in the middle of nowhere. It took his daughter five days to find civilization after that, and he is pissed about it.

words

A bear and a snake steal your car: it’s both a start to a bad pun and something that you’d never want to tell the police.

Just keep trying to switch lanes. Eventually, he’ll see the back of your car and realize that you do NOT have the “Rogue Shape Shifters FTW” bumper sticker, so you couldn’t possibly be them. Once reassured, he’ll let you over.

Maybe.

 

What? Did that group of teenagers almost hit you while trying to pull out of their parking spot?

Calm down and keep your distance.

They just discovered they have superpowers, that they might be “the chosen one”, and are trying to figure out their lives.

High school sucks to begin with. Try adding laser beam eyes or the ability to inflate your entire body.

Then, consider that they also realized that the government wants to hunt them down to run experiments on them until they are no longer minors, at which point they’ll be made into super-soldiers.

Meanwhile, the one that can fly into outer space has just discovered a fleet of alien ships hovering just outside of our atmosphere with their guns pointing directly at your city.

words

Question: would having laser beam eyes get you a handicap sticker?

They got a lot of crap to deal with. Unfortunately, learning to drive is one of them.

 

There is something about thinking about terrible drivers being ridiculously not-quite-human that is instantly calming—and driving becomes ten times more awesome.

Would you rather yell at your windshield, wishing to give those drivers a three-hour lecture on how to properly make a left-turn, only to realize that they don’t care and don’t hear you…

OR

Would you rather talk about how driving behind the former President of the Republic of Atlantis sucks because he is still trying to get used to the idea of having feet instead of a tail? Instead, you can have a lively discussion with anyone in your car about the situation that forced him into driving when he’s only had legs for the last 12 hours.

They wouldn’t have heard your swearing, so they certainly won’t hear you talk about their fictional romantic entanglements with a genie.

At first, making up these stories on the fly is a bit tricky. For the first week, the only thing I could think of was a plot involving a Turkish Prince who was determined to search for his bride-to-be that was kidnapped by the CIA. I don’t even think Turkey has princes…

If you need plot ideas, I would highly recommend reading through the Paranormal Romance summaries on Good Reads– The more ridiculous, the better. The more you come up with these plot entanglements, the easier it becomes.

For me, the frustration and anger that comes from road rage is much more distraction from driving than the effort it may take to create these stories.

Try it, my home slices. See if it works for you.

Peace out!

How I Made Fire Smell Like Cookies

11 Jan

Hey guys! Guess what?? It’s story time!

When I was in elementary school, lightening hit our house and the resulting fire burned it down.

When I was in sixth, seventh, and eighth grade I had a series of vivid nightmares involving people… well, burning. I couldn’t use a stove without flinching during middle school.

I wanted to punch all those pyromaniacs in middle school in the face, but there were too many of them.

When I was in eighth grade one of my brothers and his friend decided to play the lite-all-the-things-on-fire game one lovely Saturday afternoon… It caught fire to his sheets. At the end of a long and very stressful day, our house was left in a heap of extra-crispy wood clumps.

If you’ve ever seen Stranger Then Fiction with Will Ferrell– best movie ever– think about that moment when Harold raises his arms in the air and yells hopelessly at the narrator… I had one of those moments that day.

In high school, our dog house, the backyard, a calender, and a small pile of sticks caught fire as well– still my brother and his friend. You would think after, you know, burning down the house, they’d burn up all their fire-related curiosity (Haha, you see what I did there? Yeah, Shakespeare ain’t got nothing on this witty lady).

But no. Apparently, that’s not how little brothers work.

What this led to was a strong sense of caution around fire, verging on pyro-phobia, that followed me well into college.

Today, however, I did something cool.

I lit a candle.

candle

He didn’t talk to me as I thought he would. Regardless, I’ve decided to name him Calcifer. I expect he’ll ask me to go save his master Howl any moment now.

If you look on the label, it has cookies on it. I figured it was worth the risk, if it could make my life smell like baked goods.

I’m not sure where we got this candle. I found it laying in a drawer in my parents house. It could be a magic candle, I guess, set there by the same lady that gave life to Pinocchio.

On the other hand, though, it could be an evil candle, set there by a dark wizard from the future determined to destroy me before I get to a point in my life where I do something vaguely important. Either way, my life has just before much more interesting.

The smell of the candle is somewhat disappointing, though. It smells like a creamy-sugary-delicious smell, not the burning-crispy-brick smell that I usually get from homemade cookies.

My next life goal is to set fire to the rain. Go big or go home, as they say.

Thoughts and Hippos

8 Jan

First, this is my hippo. His name is Fat-Fat. I don’t know why I named him that it just felt right.

fatfat

He really loves filters. It’s probably because he models for Instagram when he isn’t protecting my desk.

Second, I have thoughts sometimes that I have to get out of my head… and these are them. 😀

Revolving doors are fun. They let you go faster and faster, and, if you’re skilled, you can pull your feet up and balance between two sides of the glass and let it carry you in circles. It’s the best feeling. But don’t do it while going into a job interview. They will remember your face, and they will ask you about it. They might not hire you.

I remember in high school when people used to say, “Don’t stress out about what other people think of you because no one will even remember you in, like, 10 years.” But that’s not exactly true.
If you got into a fight in front of me in middle/high school, I remember your face, I remember your name, and I remember how you thought you were the next karate kid. If you don’t look like Mr. Miyagi at our high school reunion, I will be disappointed.

When walking around a book store, it’s often hard to tell the difference between the paranormal romance and the regular romance section, but it is very easy to tell when you’ve gone from the romance section into the erotica section. If there are handcuffs on the cover and you’re not standing in the mystery/thriller section, it’s probably erotica.

On a related note, if you’ve walked into a section where every cover is of a teenage girl in a fluffy dress staring you down like she is about to stab you or kiss you, you’re probably in teen paranormal romance.

I like to tell myself that every single thing that appears on my television is made up. It’s all fiction, they’re all paid actors, and the advice they give you only applies if you live in Narnia. I prefer not to believe that the people on Hoarders or Oprah or Property Virgins actually exist. Try it. You’ll feel tons better about the state of humanity… and of the world.

Most songs out there are shallow, narcissistic, and would make you want to punch the person if they said it in real life. Once I accepted this and embraced it, listening to the radio became a bajillion times easier to handle:

Oh, hello Taylor Swift– marry me Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone, I love you and that’s all I really knowDid you become Romeo, TSwift? That’s new. Both Romeo and Juliet? Hm. That costume change must be tricky–I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress— And this is the part where you kill yourself on top of her seemingly dead body, isn’t it? Gah, but you are BOTH Romeo AND Juliet. How does that work?! DEATH-CEPTION.

Whenever entering a party, always know your exits: the doors, the windows, the windows with the fire escapes, the fragile looking walls that look like they could be kicked down. You never know when a fire or a riot or an apocalypse will happen. Also, if an awkward moment happens, nothing eases the tension like an escape that makes everyone think that there is a riot, fire, or apocalypse happening.

Sometimes, you see someone on the bus that looks like a Muppet and you will want to tell them. Don’t do it.

People will say, “That’s so deep” for the most ridiculous things.
Omg, He wrote Peace Love Happiness on his wall. That’s so deep.
Omg, you only live once?? That’s so deep.
Omg, my sugar cookies burned in the oven. That’s so deep.
Omg, the DON’T WALK symbol is red like the blood that will be spilled when ‘the man’ smacks you down, j-walker. That’s so deep.

I wish my life were like a video game. I would be like Scott Pilgrim, but with a college degree. I really love garlic bread.

I hope you enjoyed these bits of wisdom and thoughts from my brain.
Have a lovely day my home slices 🙂
Peace out.

Geeking Out a Bit Over Christmas

26 Dec

Hey guys!

I hope you guys had a very lovely Christmas! My Christmas was full of geeky awesomeness, including an entire collection of Shakespeare plays with an embossed cover, the best coffee mug that I’ve ever seen, Christmas dinner that turned into a science experiment, and the new episode of Doctor Who.

[Holy flipping animal crackers y’all. As I am typing this– like right now– my youngest sister has put some batteries in an old Tickle Me Elmo– and it seems to be releasing a death scream and having a seizure at the same time. I might need to obtain some holy water… where does one buy holy water?]

The embossed collection of Shakespeare plays is pretty self-explanatory, but I feel like the coffee mug deserves special attention.

Nothing says ‘Good Morning’ like a coffee mug that’s painted the brightest yellow imaginable.

You may be asking yourself, ‘Well, that’s a pretty mug, but what makes it the ‘world’s best coffee mug”?

Well, there are three reasons:

1) It holds coffee.

Yeah, true story, bro.

Most things made to go with my coffee have earned a spot on my “Favorite Things Ever” list.

2) The line they used makes scansion look cool.

The line is from TS Elliot’s “Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock”. Normally, I don’t like Elliot’s poetry. I find it a bit pretentious and, as a student, annoying. However, this line is awesome– but not because of it’s meaning.
This line is cool because of how you can interpret the scansion. [It’s a fancy word referring to how the syllables in a word are accented. It just gives you a feel for the rhythem of a line. Words can either be accented, which is marked by a –, or unaccented, which is marked with a “U” shape.]

As a student, scansion is usually very painful because, half the time, it’s never very clear why a word is labeled as ‘accented’. BUT here it’s pretty cool.

Why??

Well, the accent pattern of the phrase “coffee spoons” makes a coffee spoon shape!

*Mind Blown*

Woah.

3) This line is super ironic considering they put it on a coffee cup.

This line from TS Eliot’s ‘The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock’ illustrates exactly why context is important, guys.

In short, Mr. Prufrock is a sad sad man.

Being able is ‘measure out [his] life in coffee spoons’ is, more or less, another way of measure how droll and melancholy his life has become. It’s not something to be happy about.

It become especially ironic when you consider that the creators of this cup used this literary reference, bright colors, and old-school typography to attract coffee drinkers, yet the context does not. Irony at its best.

There’s something about waking up to the morning– well, early afternoon most days– to a cup of coffee that causes you to question your life choices while feeding you delicious awesomeness.

[I wanted to get some holy water, but I feel like Elmo is watching me… his big old buggy eyes are just staring me down. Current theories include: possessed by the spirit of a velociraptor… well, that’s the end of the list. Amendments and additional theories are welcome.]

Anyway, Christmas dinner was a science experiment. Unfortunately, it was like one of those chemistry experiments from high school where you put too much of one chemical that you can’t pronounce into another chemical and, somehow, it doesn’t turn the special shade of pink that your chem teacher said it would if you had done it right…

Well, maybe, it’s not at all like that. It also wasn’t like a Myth Buster’s science experiment with explosions, mischief, and chaos… which was slightly disappointing.

I’m not sure where I was going with that.

Point being, cooking is hard and I am not good at it… If you need proof, I’ve actually written about my masterful culinary abilities before.

Then Christmas ended with the lovely new Doctor Who Christmas Special featuring the newest companion, Oswin Oswald, who is really good at dying.

There seem to be a lot of Doctor Who characters that are very good at dying and then not dying and coming back to life…

[Speaking of dying and coming back to life, we stuck the elmo in the closet where its creepy eyes can’t follow me. I’m hoping that, like a Furby, it’ll shut up if no one touches it, goes near it, or says its name out loud. I’m also hoping that, unlike the Furby, it won’t try to murder me in my sleep.]

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of your winter break and that it is not haunted by images of demon-elmo.

Peace out my home slices!

I’m Not Feelin’ Very 22

10 Dec

I turned 22 the other day, and it was not as I expected.

Like any self-respecting college female, I get most of my life advice from Taylor Swift songs.

Previously, this advice has done me well.  For example:

1. If a guy cheats on you or is a hipster, break up with him. Then cry about it, burn his pictures, remind him over and over that you will never ever ever ever be getting back together, and write a song about it.

2. If a guy you like is getting married to someone else, wait until the wedding starts, sneak in, hide behind the curtains, and then object to the wedding and force him to follow you out of the building. After all, he’s not an independent person with his own mind and doesn’t get a say in who he marries.

3. If people are mean to you, just remember: one day you’ll be famous.

4. Try to compare your love to fairy tales. All the time. All. the. Time.

5. Don’t skip the end of Shakespeare plays. Fun fact, ending up like Romeo and Juliet is never desirable.

It was disappointing, though, when I turned 22 and didn’t feel like dressing up like a hipster, falling love with strangers (stranger danger, y’all), or talking about my ex, like T-Swift said I would.

Being 22 is apparently supposed to be both ‘miserable and magical’… so, something like Harry Potter and the Angst-y Teenage Years would happen.

Needless to say, it didn’t. :/

Not cool T-Swift, not cool.

On a related note, I was originally going to talk about turning 22 in 22 pictures. When I tried that, though, they ended up as some derivative of this:

22.2

22.322.4

I don’t know. I guess there’s something about being the hero of time, a kick-ass physicist, or an Italian plumber that’s just very relateable 😉

As If I Need Another Reason Not To Drive

2 Dec

Hey guys!

The other day I was talking to a friend at work–uuuggghhh, work– and, whilst we were staring at customers like creepers, my friend showed me a neat trick– how to open ketchup like a classy person.

As someone without any etiquette training to speak of, I try to pick up tips on how to be “classy” when I can, so I got her to show me. Now, my friend, let me show you.

This is how I used to open ketchup:

ketchup

Ketchup: Now with .9% ACTUAL TOMATO and 100% FUN!!!

When I opened ketchup, my natural instinct was to tear off a corner and squeeze it out. There’s even an arrow in the top corners telling you to do that.

The corner-tear method is pretty awesome. After all, who doesn’t want to make their french fried and hamburgers look like they were created with the blood of the innocents?!

However, when I saw this new method, I was instantly converted:

ketchup1

Classy Ketchup: Now with .9% ACTUAL TOMATO and 100% LESS MURDER!

Whoa.

She uses her finger nails– though, for those of us that bite our nails, teeth work too if you’re careful to not spill it all over your face– and just tears it across the top.

NOW you got a pocket. You don’t have to create a battle scene with ketchup all over the fallen warriors that were your fries. You can just dip them in without the messy, stickiness. It’s like magic!

If you’re still into creating a battle scene with your fries, you just gotta be a bit more creative. For example, I usually take the ‘ritual-sacrifice-into-a-volcano-of-whirling-death’ method in which my french fry, for the continuance of the human race must sacrifice himself and appease the evil volcano wizards. Then, I eat him and humanity is saved.

However, there was one problem. Only one.

When I asked how she came up with this crazy awesome ketchup method, she said she needs it to drive.

“Wait, what? Driving?” I asked

“Yeah! I can hold the packet with one hand and dip the fry in with the other! No mess while I’m driving!”

She seemed really pleased with herself, but it did leave me with what looking question:

Is there a third hand that I don't know about? Can she drive with her knees?? These are the questions that plague my soul...

Is there a third hand that I don’t know about? Can she drive with her knees?? These are the questions that plague my soul…

How does she hold onto the wheel??

 

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