I Wish I Had Something Wittier To Say

The Universe Hates Me: Installment 2

2009-03-10T22:17:00.004-05:00

There was supposed to be a large, wet, ugly weather system moving in on Tuesday, so I decided to skip my morning classes. Considering that my first class began at 8:15AM, ended just fifteen minutes before my next class, involving a mad dash across campus, one of my professors couldn't care less whether we showed up or not and the material of my second class had been the main focus of one of my classes last semester, skipping wasn't a difficult decision to make.

Fittingly, I stayed up late, eating and talking with friends. I remembered after midnight that my professor was going to hand back our papers on Tuesday. This was the class where I actually cared what I got on the paper, because it was a quarter of my grade. This was the class that started at 8:15 and for which I would normally have gone to bed two hours earlier. Crap.

Tuesday morning was a struggle. I drifted in and out of consciousness, inventing reasons to get up and go to class and more convincing reasons to stay in bed and sleep. At last I made the agonizing decision to get up, go to class and find out my grade on the paper. I decided I would catch a bus that would take me almost the entire distance to my class, figuring this would make my morning a bit easier.

I rushed out of my room and sprinted to the bus stop. I waited. The bus was late. I waited. The bus was still late. And it was raining. I kept waiting. The bus was still late and it was still raining. Finally, the bus rounded the corner, coming toward me, the cavalry charge from the William Tell Overture accompanying it (figuratively speaking, of course... the fanfare was just in my head). Beaming at the thought of being dry and warm and maybe even getting off my feet, I stepped up to the curb. The bus sped past me. The driver didn't even glance at me.

Awesome. Looks like I'm walking to class. Actually, I only have five minutes to get there. Looks like I'm power-walking to class.

When I get to class, I sit down and tear off my soggy coat, hat and gloves, completely winded from the walk and my dash up three flights of stairs. To open class, my professor says, "Well, guys, I haven't even had a chance to look at your papers yet, you'll get those back on Thursday..."

Thanks, Universe!

The Universe Hates Me: Installment 1

2009-03-10T21:36:00.003-05:00

So, this series is kind of inspired by fmylife.com, but this kind of stuff keeps happening to me.

Last week, I had a paper due. Unfortunately, the battery of my computer had lost the ability to recharge, so my computer was about to die. Because of this, I was working in the computer lab of my building. I finished my paper and it came time to print. I rush upstairs to my room ("rush" because the paper was due in an hour), planning to quickly turn on my computer and use its last surge of power to print my paper off. To my dismay, I discover that our printer is out of paper. I run to a friend's room (Friend A, from now on) and she gives me a couple sheets of paper. I dash back to my room, fire up the computer and begin printing. If I haven't mentioned it already, my printer is evil. As such, it promptly mangles both pieces of borrowed paper.

Sighing resignedly, I go back to Friend A and ask if I can borrow both her computer (as mine has officially died) and her printer. She obliges and I begin to print. The printer produces one normal page before the words on the page begin to get steadily lighter and lighter. It has run out of ink. Unfortunately, Friend A does not have a replacement ink cartridge.

I say, "Hey, no problem, I'll just go use the printer in the computer lab." The printer in the lab costs money, but I'm willing to pay for the convenience of having a paper to turn in in thirty minutes. When I get down there, I learn that you can only pay for printing using money stored in your ID card. I don't have any money on my ID card. Luckily for me, there is a kiosk in the lobby I can use to put money on my card. I run upstairs and grab my wallet. I run back downstairs and discover that the machine only takes ones. I don't have any ones. I run upstairs to ask my roommates, but none of them have singles either. I fight the urge to curl into the fetal position.

I enter Friend B's room and am able to use both her computer and her printer. I successfully print out my paper and feel forever indebted to Friend B. I spoke to Friend A later that day and she informed me that her printer was not, in fact, out of ink at all. It was printing smoothly again, even though she hadn't replaced the ink. Overall, this was a stunning example of the universe plotting against me. At least I got a good cardio workout in the process.

Why Do The Cute Ones Always Drop Acid?

2009-02-05T19:36:00.002-06:00

So, I was on the bus last night at around 8 o'clock. As the bus was driving along, the guy next to me asked if I was getting off at the next stop. At first, I was confused but quickly realized that my leaning-forward-to-avoid-the-mysterious-item-of-clothing-left-on-my-seat-by-a-previous-passenger could have been interpreted as leaning-forward-as-preparation-to-get-off-at-the-next-stop. At any rate, we started talking.

He was very friendly, funny, relatable, cute, etc. and I was like, "Awesome! This kind of thing never happens to me." Somehow how we started talking about music, specifically the Beatles and he asked me what my favorite album was. I gave a longwinded response and finally concluded that I like the White Album. His response was:

Yeah, the White Album is a good one. But I remember this one time, I was dropping acid and I listened to Abbey Road, and it's been my favorite album ever since.

Great. Just great. That's exactly how I thought that story was going to wind up.

That's 2.5% For You!

2009-01-07T18:11:00.002-06:00

Do you ever wish you could tip cashiers? I was at Target today and was checked out by a woman in her 60s. I mean, "checked out" like she was the cashier and I was the customer and she scanned my items through the cash register. She didn't look me up and down or wink at me or anything like that. In fact, she did just the opposite. I don't think she made eye contact with me at all. She spent the entire transaction talking to the old man who had just completed his transaction and who I assumed would walk away, as a normal customer does. He didn't.
I really wish I could have tipped her. When she looked down at the two pennies, a paper clip and some pocket lint I would have given her, that would send a message. Like "Hey, lady, maybe you should focus on my transaction instead of continuing to talk to a guy who is probably hitting on you about the failing car industry. You are too old for that kind of behavior!" Hussy.

Thanks, US Postal Service!

2008-12-16T11:31:00.004-06:00

Neither snow, nor rain, nor...Idaho?

I recently received a letter from a friend in St. Paul.

I live in Minneapolis.

The letter was mailed from St. Paul and arrived 11 days later, which is odd because St. Paul and Minneapolis are really not all that far apart.

The mystery was solved by the "Melba, ID" postal seal on the back of the envelope. The letter had gone through Idaho. Naturally. I've heard St. Paul to Minneapolis via Idaho is both a logical and common postal route.

I thank my lucky stars that said letter, though very much appreciated, was not something more important, like an eviction notice or something telling me I'd won a million dollars or a living will. If I had been waiting to know whether or not to pull the plug on an incapacitated relative, I don't think I would have taken too kindly to Mr. Postman's Western Excursion.

Yet another reason for training my own fleet of carrier pigeons.

Captain Planet, He's Our Hero!

2008-11-18T22:18:00.006-06:00

Have you ever thought to yourself, "Why should I recycle? It's not like just one person can make a difference. What can I do to stop the planet turning into a molten fireball? I'm gonna die some day; I might as well take the Earth with me."

If the answer is yes, first of all, you are a moron who, I can only hope, will in one way or another eliminate your chance of contributing to the gene pool and second of all you should go to this website and calculate your ecological footprint. It's easy to do and you can reward yourself later by rocking out to the Captain Planet theme song.

So remember, Planeteers, THE POWER IS YOURS!

Election '08: Part III

2008-11-07T17:28:00.001-06:00

You're welcome.

Election '08: Part II

2008-11-07T17:27:00.001-06:00

Election '08: Part I

2008-11-07T17:25:00.001-06:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Election 2008: Summing Up

2008-11-07T17:05:00.002-06:00

I realize that a substantial portion of the United States and the rest of the world stayed informed on the presidential race of '08 (and part of '07) but in case you were living under a rock and only caught CNN's touch screen and holograms on Tuesday night, here's all you need to get caught up on the entire campaign. Enjoy.

Also, sorry they are all on different posts; the copyright police got mad at me.

Also, isn't it funny how I apologize as though I have readers? And as though the slight inconvenience of needing to click several times will somehow dishearten the poor saps who do stumble upon this blog? Life has its funny little quirks.

Facebook Is Not A Soapbox!

2008-10-11T19:17:00.006-05:00

Facebook is not a soapbox. It's not an appropriate outlet for all of your political ramblings, ok? It's just not! As such, statements including, but not limited to, those listed below should be kept in your own little über-conservative world.

"Stacy" is tired of seeing liberal crap on her news feed.

"Stacy" posted a news story: Russian Live Missile Exercise Near Alaska

Turns out Russia's proximity to Alaska is actually relevant at the moment. ANd lets not forget either that it was the only place in America to be physically invaded by ground troops in WWII. Now will people please shut up?

"Stacy" is trying to see things from a liberal point of view, but can't get her head that far up her ass.

"Stacy" is disgusted with the bail-out plan... since when does my party promote socialism?

"Stacy" wrote a new note:

If You Can't Say Something Nice, Shut the [Fudge]Up.

I want to [fudge]ing SCREAM. I can't express an opinion about ANYTHING lately without having two dozen whiney-ass libtards, including people who are supposed to be my friends, basically calling me an idiot. I'm just so [fudge]ing SICK of it.

So, yeah. How about you find an outlet other than Facebook for your political bitchfest? That would be highly appreciated by the rest of us.

Things Not To Do In Polite Conversation

2008-10-08T18:20:00.003-05:00

So, I thought that most of these would have been fairly obvious, but clearly, that is not the case, so here we go:

1) Maintain constant, direct, unwavering eye contact

I really shouldn't have to tell people this, but it's just not a good idea. It's creepy. Just don't do it.

2) Ask someone if they sweat a lot*

Seriously? Um... why would...? Uh... yeah. Just don't do it. Avoid bringing up sweat at all, actually, in any context. It won't end well. Just don't do it.

3) Say something overtly negative, even if it is your actual opinion

If I say, "How are you liking college?" an appropriate response is not, "I hate it here," however true that might be.

4) Repeat inquiry about a person's sweat habits*

It was a mistake to do it once, now you're just a moron.

5) Mention your sex life

Frankly, I have no desire to hear about it and neither do the other six people in the classroom currently listening in on our conversation. Just don't do it.

*That sweat thing really did happen to me.

ME: [making polite conversation] Oh weird, my iPod headphones are turning blue from my jeans, because I always carry them in my pocket.

PERSON: Do you sweat a lot?

ME: Do I...? Uh...

PERSON: It's okay if you do, I mean, I'm not... it's just that...uh...well, do you?

ME: ...

PERSON: Let's not talk about this anymore.

ME: Yeah, way to ruin that conversation.

Touché

2008-09-27T16:14:00.002-05:00

So, there's one kid who lives in my building who went to my high school. Actually, there are many more high school people who live here (too many) but they do not factor into this story. Anyway, this particular guy never fails to make some sort of sarcastic, douchebag-y comment at me, so I've learned to never be without a prompt retort. Clever ones, like "Shut up!" or "Don't talk to me!"

A couple of days ago, I was walking down the stairs with a group of people and he was walking up the stairs with a group of people. He says, "What's up?" and I respond with a swift and scathing "WHAT?!"

Then he didn't say anything else, so I quickly added, "Up. What up? That's what I meant to say..." Of course, then I was the one who looked like a jerk when he was trying to be nice. Great.

Or...maybe he wasn't trying to be nice at all! Maybe he'd planned that all out just so I WOULD look like a jerk! Oh, well played, sir, well played.

Things Not To Do At A Nightclub

2008-09-24T11:43:00.002-05:00

1) Wear flipflops

It's just not a good idea. Your feet will get trampled. Just don't do it.

2) Vomit

It's just gross and uncomfortable for everyone involved. Especially if you do so on the dance-floor. Just don't do it.

3) Wear shorts and/or halter top (men or women)

You'll get way more attention than you'd like, as my roommate found out.

4) Ask "What's up?" when trying to initiate a conversation with a stranger

What do you really expect them to say?

4b) Say, "Obviously" when they reply, "Dancing"

Again, what did you expect?

This is the first in a new "Things Not To Do" series, a subject for which I'm sure I will find tons of material

This Is What America Is All About

2008-09-17T19:38:00.001-05:00

I've watched it a dozen times and it doesn't get any less funny. God bless Amy Poehler! God bless Tina Fey! God bless America!

Get Your Priorities In Order, People!

2008-09-13T14:54:00.002-05:00

So, once again, Facebook is ruining my life.

Actually, it's not. I'm being facetious. It can't ruin my life. It's a WEBSITE! Try telling that to the people creating "Protest the New Facebook" groups. Go ahead, try. They will rip your face off.

Yeah, maybe the New Facebook is kind of annoying, but really? Really? Why are these people getting so upset? Again, it's a WEBSITE. Maybe they should spend their time signing a petition against genocide or world hunger or corruption, not against the reformatting of a social-networking site.

Get it together, people.

Wouldn't That Be Interesting

2008-08-21T18:15:00.003-05:00

As I was driving home this afternoon, I noticed a sign next to the sidewalk. In large colorful, cut-out letters, it read:

KID SALE

Intrigued, I turned in the direction indicated, followed the subsequent signs and discovered that the household in question was not, in fact, selling children, but children's accessories, such as bikes, toys and the like.

Talk about false advertising.

Moral of Cinderella= B.S.!!!!

2008-08-18T12:49:00.005-05:00

I don't know who wrote Cinderella. Maybe it was the Grimm Brothers, I don't know. Whoever wrote it was a moron.

Having small feet sucks!!!

Especially when shoe shopping. They never have your size and some styles, no matter how cute they look on other people, make you look like someone who grew up in imperial China (i.e. foot binding, like my feet are small and those shoes made it look like I was walking on stumps, that's what I'm saying).

Yup. And that's why I don't go shoe shopping that much.

The Martians Are Here! Oh Wait, No, It's Just The Olsen Twins.

2008-08-10T16:53:00.003-05:00

So right off the bat I'll admit that I am not the originator of this rant. It was passed on to me as one transfers a flame from one candle to another, but now burns within me with the power of a raging inferno. You're in suspense now, aren't you? You're wondering what on earth this heated passion could be about. Well, here it is:

The Olsen twins look like aliens.

Actually, the theory is:

The Olsen twins are aliens.

The only proof I have to back up this radical statement is that which I've seen with my own eyes. I mean, have you seen them?! Buggy eyes, heart-shaped faces, pursed lips, what part of that description does not scream ALIEN?

What is their purpose here? To observe? To destroy?! I can't be certain. Perhaps it's just to infiltrate our cultural consciousness in the form of "adorable" children in order to assimilate our society to their kind before the invasion. Again, I can't be certain.

Maybe you don't believe me. That's okay; that's your prerogative. But now every time you see a picture of Mary-Kate and/or Ashley with their vacant, staring eyes, you'll wonder.

At Least Maple Syrup Would Be Cheaper, Eh?

2008-08-06T15:50:00.004-05:00

So I just read this article about a 1935 U.S. government plan to invade Canada. It was called "Joint Army and Navy Basic War Plan -- Red" or "Army Plan Red" for short.

It's objective?
"ULTIMATELY TO GAIN COMPLETE CONTROL."

The fact that this plan exists and its clearly-stated goal serve as more incentive for something I've been saying for awhile now; Canada should invade the United States.

Now, I'm not saying this as some sort of anti-American, expatriate, hippie or anything. I love the U.S. I really like living here. USA! USA! I'm just saying, as a student of history, that that would make the best History lesson EVER. So really, I'm thinking ahead for the future generation of U.P.C. scholars (that is, the United Provinces of Canamerica).

I just think it'd be really funny. I mean, no one would expect it. Heck, most Canadians probably wouldn't expect it, you know, people are scattered in forests and tundra all over that country and news doesn't travel very quickly, especially if the telegraph lines blow down in a snowstorm or the dogsled team sprains an ankle.

That's another reason Canada should invade; snide comments like that. They should put us in their place, defend their honor, uphold basic human decency, spread the miracle of the metric system, stuff like that.

And if they do invade, could anyone really fault them for it? I mean, it's pretty tempting as we wouldn't really be able to defend ourselves quickly; we're spread all over the world and no one's even paying attention to Canada. Plus, Canada doesn't exactly have a record of aggression, so I might even be proud of them for working up the courage. You know, "Hey, good for you guys for getting it together enough to invade a world leader! Rock on!"

P.S. If you think I'm making this up you can go here and read it yourself.

You're Definitely Not Judging Me. Unless...Are You?

2008-07-25T13:32:00.002-05:00

Ever wonder if store clerks are judging you by what you buy? They probably don't; it would be hard to really pay attention to that many people when you see so many customers every day. Still, sometimes I'm not so sure.

It could be all in my head, but when I get up to the register there are times I swear the cashier is eyeing me. Yesterday, for example, I placed my items on the conveyor belt at Target and all of sudden started sweating bullets; I bought two very loose-fitting, pajama-type shirts and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream. Great. All I could think of was what the cashier could be thinking:

"Is she going through a break-up?"

"Did a family member/pet just die?"

"Has she realized she'll never find love?"

"Will it push her over the edge if I suggest the Two-For-One deal on Kleenex in Aisle 4?"

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm the only person who thinks these things. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe the register-lady never gave me a second thought. Maybe.

Facebook: Social Networking Tool or Cruel Test of Civility?

2008-07-22T13:31:00.004-05:00

Today I once again found myself navigating the social minefield that is Facebook. After logging in I was greeted by a Friend request and eight "Other" requests, half of which turned out to be people sending me things through applications I don't have but could easily add if I just allow them to access my personal information. No. I don't want your stupid application. There is no void in my life that can be filled by Graffiti-Bumper Sticker-Flair- Version 3.

Another informed me that I had been "super-hugged" by a friend. What does that mean? Is it figurative? Literal? Did they actually hug me and I missed it? Or are they using a cutesy function of an electronic medium to convince themselves that they have no need to connect with others on a basic human level? Is a Super-Hug different than a regular hug? Does it involve red capes? Phone booths? Leaping tall buildings in a single bound?

The Friend request was also mystifying. I don't really know that person. We're barely even acquaintances. I think we spoke once or twice in junior high. So what's their angle? Do they want to make up? Reconnect? Or do they simply want to increase their number of Facebook "friends"?

sigh Maybe we should all go back to writing letters. Or sending carrier pigeons. I'll bet no one ever Super-Hugged a carrier pigeon.

Oh dear...

2008-07-16T16:51:00.004-05:00

So I kind of look like that girl, Mel, from Flight of the Conchords.
(This is Mel. Or me. I'm not sure. =>=>)
I guess I shouldn't be too alarmed, I mean, there are 6 billion people on the planet, so it shouldn't be surprising if I look a teensy bit like another one of them. It would actually be weird, you know, I mean, all those people, if I didn't resemble one of them, because there's really only a limited amount of variation in the global gene pool, so I wouldn't be alarmed if someone on the street mistook me for her. Mistakes happen. I mean, there are times when I think I know someone and then, ha SURPRISE, I don't, cuz it's really just by a person's characteristics that you can actually tell who they are, like their mannerisms and stuff, so it's a good thing that I don't smile a lot or say hi to people or talk too fast about random things when I'm nervous, or, or...

Thank god I grew my hair out.

Seriously?!

2008-07-15T12:40:00.000-05:00

OK, seriously, people need to stop calling me "ma'am". It's getting ridiculous. Yesterday I had three different people call me "ma'am", plus one more today- why??!!!!!!

I'm not even old enough to drink yet, I don't smoke, I don't spend inordinate amounts of time in the sun, if anything, I probably look young for my age, so WHY do people keep calling me "ma'am"?

It's probably because there is a limited number of ways to address young women, but "miss" is fine. I don't think anyone would take offense to "miss". Then again, why say anything? Nobody goes around calling 20 year-old guys "sir".

Another glass ceiling...or something of that sort.

Ceremonial Inaugural Post

2008-07-14T11:42:00.000-05:00

So, um yeah. I didn't really want to make a blog but they made me to set up an account. It's not like I really need another way to waste my time- I already have facebook and an iPod. I think I still have a blog from Creative Writing but I don't remember how to get to it. I wouldn't want anyone to read some of the stuff I put on there anyway. Then again, it's not like anyone's actually going to read this one, so...yeah.