God says "whoops"?

"Muncha Munch"

For sale: Fresh Undies

We see London, we see France, we see your grandmother's underpants.

We have happened upon a very interesting discovery today in a vintage dresser. Any guesses on what it was?

Cat Stevens

The universe has sensed my desire for more happy endings today. I take these signs as a sign of impending happiness.

Bring it.

This Warms My Cold Dark Place

Internet Shorthand as Translated by a Proper Englishman
hah! = I found your last comment humorous, good sir!
hahaha = My jubilant utterance could be heard in the next room!
lol (laugh out loud) = I did laugh merrily in an out loud fashion.
rofl (rolling on floor laughing) = I dare say I fell onto the ground, and proceeded to roll about as if I were swine of some sort.
lmao (laughing my a off) = I laughed so intensely that my buttocks nearly disconnected from my flesh.
omg (oh my god) Gordon Bennett!
zomg (oh my god with a z at the beginning) = zGordon Bennett!
w/e (whatever) = Right. Would you like some tea?
stfu = If you were drinking tea right now, you would not be speaking.
ily (I love you) = I dare say, if I weren’t a proper Englishman and my heart was not a cold dark place, I suspect I would feel quite passionate about you.
roflcopter (rolling on the floor laughing…copter) = As I was rolling about on the floor, emitting sounds of jubilance, I did see a strange flying machine.
j/k (just kidding) = An Englishman never kids.
afk (away from keyboard) = I will be absent from this typing device for the time being.
idk (i don’t know) = I know, but I’d rather not say.
pos (parent over shoulder) = The nanny is about.
ftw (for the win) = Victory!
ftl (for the lose) = Defeat? I do not believe that is so. We have clearly planted the flag of our nation. Do you not see the flag? Victory!
roflwaffles = roflcrumpets
bff (best friends forever) = eternal acquaintance
l8r g8r (later gator) = I bid you adieu, American reptile.
omgwtfbbq (oh my god, what the f, barbecue) = Great deity in heaven, what in the queen’s name is that? That makes less sense than an outdoor cooking apparatus.

Trains, Trams, Trolleys

http://twitter.com/#!/TrolleyCat

Twitter

Twitter. As in: down with twitter. It's too hard. It's supposed to make things easier, which means I don't have to fuss with it. So I am going to preemptively give up on it. Yeah. Take that, flippin twitter. I'll get an account when they make a blockbuster about the founder.

Two Things

1. I am starting to grow very fond of my legs. Not that I wasn't already fond of my body, having one, being alive, all that stuff, but in the girl sense- you know, aesthetical fondness. They're pretty.

2. No idea what the second thing was now. Possibly something about how this turning to micro-blog territory and how I am considering trying out the newfangled twittah to practise theees microblog theeng weeeth a bit more conveeeeection. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees. *Steeple fingers* Also: https://twitter.com/#!/catieLYON <- That was my past attempt to figure out the web log world. TAKE TWO IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN PEOPLE!

P.S.
Thing three: Originally title of post was "2 Things" but I hated it and had to spell it out.

THAT IS ALL!

Reading

Remember when we were young, and we just loved reading? We soaked it up. We looked for the opportunity to read everything, anything. Cereal boxes, billboards, shampoo bottles, math books, anything with words to drink in.
No you won't read anything.
Where have we gone wrong?

"Lowe's" - Never Stop Improving

These awesomely touching commercials have these lovely songs embedded in them.
Don't Stop Doing Whatchu Do- Gin Wigmore
Home- Girls Love Shoes

How To: Shoelace Loll

Loll means LOL (laugh out loud) because that's how I pronounce it. I think it looks better as loll. But not really.

I found this very funny:

"I don't know if it's the polyphasic sleep finally kicking in, or just the Ol' Nippon Swish kick-starting my amphetamine intake, but I really feel like I could (and should) fight some kind of snake right now. The closest thing I have to that on my agenda, however, is tying my shoes. Let's do the SHIT OUT OF THAT!

This is the Ian-knot, so named for the intertwined duality inherent in the many roles of Sir Ian McKellan and holy shit I can type so fast look at this! You can just tell that sentence was fast, right? By reading the words? They read fast as shit, right!?

Read more: The Most Efficient Way to Do ... Everything | Cracked.com http://www.cracked.com/blog/the-most-efficient-way-to-do-...-everything/#ixzz1apNGm35P"

Me versus sleep

Dreams make sleep worth the lost time. When I wake up before I feel a dream is over, I'm frustrated, but when I wake up with no memory of a dream, in what seems to be five seconds after I've gotten to sleep, then I feel like a life changing opportunity has been ripped away and replaced with exhaustion.

Paper Writing

Okay, teachers of mine. You have two options here:
A. You can test to see if I learned anything. Ask for my very jumbled notes of all of my thoughts on everything. It won't seem genius by any extent, but in there lies the good stuff that doesn't make it into the paper because it doesn't fit and or I forgot about it with the stress of having to organize my thoughts.
B. Ask for a paper. A well organized one. Get a slapped together piece of shit.

It seems like I prefer option A. Seems like it. But really. I don't give a flying monkey anymore. Just don't expect me to be conscious during class.

Past. Dread. Mush.

Shakespeare in the Cinema: The Lion King

Let's say The Lion King is a direct interpretation of Hamlet's struggles, except he doesn't die at the end, because hey, we have to think of the children. Disney's not a tool. Anyway.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Timon and Pumba.
Am I blowing your mind right now?
Shut up, I totally am. You're welcome.

Mommy, Can I Get One?

Not a pony, a bear. A baby bear. His name shall be Squishy and he shall be mine!

Cupid Has No Dealings in "Love"

Cupid is he that forces false affections.
Oh, how I love thee, how I dote on thee, they say- I say they have no concept of true love, for this century or their own.

This is Shakespeare related Let's say that Titania and Oberon already loved each other. They did not gush. They had their jealous spats, but those are difficult to start without the authentic caring and liking that is associated with love. Then when Cupid's flower juice gets on their eyes, they are blinded by what they are supposed to do when they are in love, but the people who they are "in love with" don't react similarly even when they are already supposedly in love with the blinded people.

I forgot what else I was going to say.

High Heeled Oxfords

So... It's 2:30 2:29. I can't sleep because- actually I have to change that, because I put 2:30, when it was only 2:29 and it was driving me mad with the inaccuracy, despite the fact that it will be well after that when I even get to the point of the sentence- because I slept in until one P.M. this afternoon and I guess my alarm didn't go off, and that's only because I HAVE to set an alarm because otherwise I would have all of these atrophied muscles, because even though I would get out of bed at 4 for a while, it just doesn't say much about your activity level--oh, wait! It does! It says you're a lazy bum face which you are... (If there happens to be someone who has this same screwy sleep schedule who is reading this- don't be offended, by "you" I mean me. I just wanted to clarify that.)

Anyway. Yesterday (or two days ago, Monday, because today is technically Wednesday but it doesn't count because I haven't woken up yet today, and that's when a new day comes is when you wake up, that's how that works, so that should be the technically correct term and I should have said that calendar-ically which should totally be a non hyphenated word, a real word if you will, anyway- calenderically it's Wednesday, but technically yesterday (Monday)--
I watched "You Again". A hyped-up all movie theaters movie. Wide release if you will. It had very few redeeming qualities, as a romantic comedy. I'll give it that in romantic comedies, redeeming qualities are hard to come by, but whatever. ANYWAY (anyway count up to this point: 4, a.k.a. excessive) one thing that I really liked about it was that ALL of the conflicts were resolved by sincere apologies, instead of grand gestures or trickery or- I dunno whatever the alternative is- someone dying? but that sort of speaks to me about forgiveness and hurt feelings and the power of apologizing and communicating efficiently (oh god, how I love efficient communication) so I've decided to self-coin the phrase that "it's so shallow, it's deep." Oh yeah. I'm practically... uh, C.S. Lewis ("you don't have a soul, you are a soul, you have a body") with these lovely quotes of mine.
Had to google that one. I was gonna say James Joyce, but I have NO JJ experience WHATsoever. Though apparently I do feel comfortable enough with the guy to go with initial-based-nicknames. Gag me.

So. Went to bond with Sarah at the movies today. I think we need to stop thinking that we need to go places, because we "bond" the most, like, getting ready to go, planning, in the car, driving there, but when we get there it's nothing special.

Anyway. Saw my favorite movie of.... uh, at least this month. And other months when there are no definite contenders (I know what you're thinking, like, oh, wow, I can tell you're committed, it being a week into the month and all, but shut up. I don't do favorites.) Crazy Stupid Love with Steve Carrell. Oh, it was a beautiful movie. I feel like it was very artfully done. Maybe I was just excited about the quality of the concept and the follow through, and I'm just on this romance-T.V. and movie kick, I just need it, I don't know what exactly, but I sort of want to buy the movie just for the five minutes after this clip, because it is just so sweet. SO sweet.

The five minutes after this clip, where they (spoiler alert!) don't bang, are on Harry & Sally territory.

Crazy Stupid Love - So is this how it normally... by teasertrailer

They just... aren't even the cutest, they're pretty, don't get me wrong, but they aren't perfect and that makes it just perfect. They just have the Kurt's fairytale only more hardcore, cause she's nervous and upset and won't shut up, and he just goes with it without being all "I'm a good person because I'm not being a douche when you're being all nervous and talkative" he just rolls with it and that's just adorable and awesome.

Then the Steve and Julianne bits are so serious but not depressing, just emotionally charging, like I'm yelling at the screen when she calls him, "You better pick up that phone or I will punch you in the face." And then he does pick up the phone! And they're both struggling, you can tell, but they can't stop smiling, and there's information asymmetrical, they're both lying but you know they can forgive each other and/or would tell the truth if they had the strength and knew how alright that would be, so in a way even though they're lying-it's better because that just shows you how much they love each other. Then, they have this great relationship with their son, and they're just so honest with him and straight shooting and they go out of THEIR way to lighten his mood with a joke of teenager appropriate humour rather than him joking or them joking with a very non-sympathetic or empathetic grown up pun or whatever. That kid is the cherry on top.

Fairytale? So much more than the brothers Grimm could have done with a relationship hitting a iceberg and crumbling but the people on it so determined and full of life and freakin realistic. Then you've got an adorable side story with the young people.

Read above statement with the tone of MDK's "I'm pretty much fundamentally against the concept of brunch because whenever I wake up, I'm immediately hungry, and I also love lunch. (Translation into what I'm actually talking about: I've never really known what to think about Cinderella and the like because when I watch it, I feel so dissatisfied with the relationships and the characters but I just love love love the concept of true love and best friends with benefits and smiling at each other because you just can't help it.) But if brunch could somehow mean that I can have breakfast, brunch, and lunch then... yeah. I'm on board." (But if Crazy, Stupid Love means that I can have deeply realistic seeming, beautiful, complicated, romantic characters and conflict but also communication and the moral of OMNIA VINCINT AMOR, then I'm pretty much gonna call it my Cinderella story.)

There you have it. Rambling about a movie, fawning all over it for four paragraph things, interspersed with a comedy vlog clip. Hopefully this helps me to remember my opinions about this. I don't know if it will. AGAIN, I hope so. It's like I have 50 first dates amnesia or something. Who can't remember their own opinions? Seriously, what is wrong with me? I'm an alien fresh out of the looney bin. Who thinks she's good with words, but can't type a full thought without making up words and dashes and run on sentences and ...s, and doesn't really make sense.... it's bedtime.

Oh. And I wore high heels in public today. I felt like a poser, and like my legs looked weird. Baby steps.

knowing people is hard

I've been having difficulty lately with relationships. I love people. Love em. But I can't stand them. The people who I like frustrate me, mostly by not talking to me. I don't know if I smell bad, or what, but I have this need for these people I like to talk to me.
So, I take advice from TV, I don't remember what, probably the beginning of Bones, where they're all "You see what you just did? You just asked a personal question without offering anything of yourself back, so now you get nothing." So I offer up all of this information about the way I think, and what I'm thinking, and what I am thinking right then, probably really annoyingly and repetitively. The entire town probably knows tons more about my feelings about hair, and it being weird and just tons of dead stringy proteins hanging from your head, and an alien would look really weird with hair because hair is weird, however, I get nothing back from these people.
I tell them what I think, then.... nothing. Then I feel like I'm being selfish, so then I feel like I have to pry to get to know these people, then I just end up asking stupid freakin' questions like what's your freakin favorite color? Pepsi or Coke? Then I get excited when I remember to reference Pulp and ask Elvis or Beatles, but then they never get it. I don't know why they never get it, it's not that many people that I like, so they've probably heard it before, so then I get the feeling that they don't give a shiz, and they just want me to go away. I am Brendan Frasier pre-wishes in that Bedazzled movie.
So now I have a new theory on why I over-share. I feel like people are judging me. And I want them to have all the information, all of the variables, each very-possibly-irrelevant tidbit that might sway their judgement in favor of me, even if just a little bit.
So, I hope people want me to like them. Maybe one day someone will want me to like them for who they are, and they will tell me who they are, and I will remember, because it won't be a follow up to one of my second-grade-interview questions.

All anyone wants is just to be liked.

I'm made, let's go home.

One day, it's just going to be all fingers pointing, shouting... pitchforks may may be going a bit to far, but--
One day someone is going to figure it out, and if they are who I think, really who I hope they''ll be, then they would announce to the whole world, anyone who cares...

Imposter.

That's why I don't ___. People can ___. That's fine. No problem. But I'm not people. I'm disguised as people.

That's my explanation for "no thank you, I'd rather not."

Thirty-FIVE people couldn't count on Two Hands the awful things...

I'm going to post this. Then I am going to freakin build a bridge and get over it. Agreed?
Just for clarification I am "me" and "you." Got it? Good...    Cannoli!  Hmmk. We crack us up. MOVING ON-!

Edit: whatever time this is: I think I'm gonna reenact the first scene of Bridget Jones' Diary and post it on here. I would do that right now, but my camera battery is dead and the lost charger is one of those 35 hands because it is causing me to have 3 AM anxiety at 1 AM, which pretty much is really annoying and causal of Charlie's horses.

True story.

Actual post coming soon. Hopefully.

This Is My Life

I am the dickhead. I just frag up situations. Contrary to my what I suppose most people would I assume, I don't look at this as having anything to do with a penis. Just being stupid and messing things up. Sans penis but WTIH plenty of profanity.




I'll try and stop.
Details about my depressingly annoyingly whiny existence coming soon.

short films make the inevitable fatigue I will feel tomorrow TOTALLY worth it

The Birds

So. I was walking along today... as anyone with legs and the ability to mobilize them is wont to do. And let me tell you, it is just beautiful outside. BEAUTIFUL. The birds were chirping, the wind is breezing, and I have that skip in my step that just screams out to the world about my delightful breakfast beverage (whipped cream with some hot chocolate on the bottom)...

Anywhoser. It's just the epitome of lovely out.
And I'm walking along.
The birds be chirpin'.

Yeah... you ever look at a bird up close?

 

For your own sake- I hope not.

 Because they are SUPER creepy. Those chirping, cheeping, annoying little things with wings are scary. I was admiring one such bird's plumage on my walk today. It's so shiny, and black looking, but not really black, it's got a whole rainbow of jewel-tones hidden away in it. It's like a Poe mixed with a tiny little tropical paradise in the middle of a Nebraskan sidewalk.
Then, you see it actually chirp.

 

You can't hear it, because it's not beautiful. It's frightening. It makes you want to break out in a dead sprint. Because they stop pecking at there little early-wormed ground, completely glued to the spot, their beak opens and their little bird neck puffs out and they squawk.


It doesn't sound like much but-- it is in that moment that you know this is possible:

They CAN. And they, most likely, especially if you watch a lot of crime dramas where the body is left in a field, WILL eat your freakin' face off.

With that lovely sentiment, I bid y'all a good night.

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

I fell down the stairs again, and I am using that as my reasoning for my headache, which is my reasoning for not medicating. I hate medicine. But... liqui-gels are awesome.

Anyway.

Crap.

I forgot what I was going to say.
But... nothing says "homesick" like missing a town like Lawson, and nothing says home like being able to pour yourself a tall glass of ice cold milk whenever you want, even after eight P.M., then take it back to your room instead of having to stay there, in a completely different building, to drink it at a sticky table.

Not that that's the one big problem I have with dining halls... pssh. That would be childish.

Songs for the Postman

I feel these are appropriate for today... oh, the good ol' USPS.

I heard this playing in the dining hall kitchen this morning. I wanted to watch Star Trek last night. Perfect video compromise? No. But close enough :)

Alice Strikes Again With Another Lovely Dream

 11:37P - 10:32A

This was last night's dream, the night of the 20th going on the 21st of April in 2011. I was actually in this dream. I think that the person walking around, the protagonist- if you will, was actually me, and not someone just close enough to me to be identifiable as me- but me, Katie Lyon, with all of my quirks and normalcies. The actual dream I think was really long, but I remember one part that I really want to go back to...

I was walking around the downstairs of Neihardt, my residence hall, and there's all these rooms for student congregations down there, one with really comfy velvety couches, and the one across from it- all parlor-y with a piano. Anyway, I was strolling, and I decided to take a scenic detour through the piano room. There were like five people already in there, four sitting on a couch, or on the floor in front of the couch (a couch, which thinking about that room in comparison to the actual room, does not actually exist) and the other guy sitting on a chair across from them (an armless parlor chair that does exist, but in greater quantities than it did in the dream parlor (the dream parlor didn't even have the piano, I don't think.)) 

The guy sitting in the chair had his eyes closed, and was pointing to people, as a part of a game where he was "it," like some version of Mafia and Pictionary all rolled up into a game that I don't really understand as a conscious person. He was making up this senario for the person he was pointing to, then would include others by pointing to them, so after finishing his sentence pointing to this one girl (with really great hair), his arm traveled right, where none of his friends were sitting, but I was still standing, watching. His friends were so entertained by the fact that he had decided to include an invisible person in their game, that they didn't say anything. I was entertained by being included at all, so I played along as well as I could as someone who isn't supposed to do anything, and I walked closer to the group. I couldn't tell you the details, but the guy kept going, and it eventually got to the point where I was supposed to say something to keep playing along, and it seemed logical that I say it with a fake accent that sounded vaguely South American. 

He figured out that this whole time he'd been pointing at someone not in his group, and he smirked. There was a pause in my speech, and he jumped in to ask something, adding that I should stop with the accent. I already had stopped with the accent, and having said a few things in my normal voice, I told him that I wasn't speaking with an accent anymore, then answered his question. His friends remained entertained by the chance of it all, and told me to sit down. I sat. I guess that round of the game was over, the guy opened his eyes and lounged back. 

Our faces at some point got really close, like in a really intense staring contest, but I blink too much for the standard staring contest, so I don't think that was it. It was pretty much over after that. 

I don't remember any details or any of my other dreams from this morning, but I do remember that it was really nice to meet those people, even though it is possible that I didn't learn their names. It was disappointing when I realized I hadn't met them at all. Maybe one day.

Okay- Alice

 1:25A - 8:55A

I remember that I dyed my hair. It came out purple. I was surprised looking at my not-purple hair this morning, but relieved because I didn't think it was going to wash out in time for work. This was the only element of my dream that made any sense.

Then I was watching Knocked Up. Weird already, I know. Except instead of being lazy, weed loving, and raunchy, they simply had multiple personalities. They had the calm personality that was put together and could raise that poor little baby without screwing it up. Then they would blink, and they'd go dead inside. Wandering off, leaving the baby alone. Then, when Katherine Heigl went blank and crazy, whats-his-face came to his fatherly senses and went back. 

It was screwy. It was longer, significantly, much longer than the three minute shark dream that took me three pages to describe, but this is the gist of Knocked Up gone Me, Myself and Irene.  That's all I remember. I'm just going to blame the fact that I channel flipped on to this yesterday, and I am rife with teenage hormones at the moment, and not try to interpret it because THAT interpretation will most certainly give me a nightmare.

"I was just blinking..." by Alice

9:45A-10:00A

Someone tapped me on the back.

Except not really. Thank you, mystery dream person. If you hadn't given me that hardy clap on my left (or right, I don't actually remember that far back) shoulder blade, then that thirty second nap during Intro to Anthro would've been longer and probably louder. 

On a slightly related note by cat- have you seen this? Is this guy not me?
http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/Ak2VEe/www.funnyordie.com/videos/bb4dcb8767/the-morning-routine

"Hello, My Name is Bruce" by Alice

12:30A-9:06A

I stopped using the computer, just finishing stumbling and homework, in the computer lab at midnight, like a responsible Aaaah-dult. Then I went like a sleepy zombie would, eating the brains of any passerbys, to bed. I neglected to put on pajamas, but that's not SUPER relevant. While I was waiting for sleep to overtake my exhausted eyelids, I was really hungry from the recipes I had stumbled upon and crave, so I, like, chewed the air. It probably would have looked like I was talking in my sleep or pretending to be a piranha. I don't know, for sure. That was very much so an IN-body experience.

First of all, I must have dreamed that I had my chair back here, because when I got up, I was surprised to find it missing.

Secondly, I was swimming through the ocean. I had flippers. I was worried I wasn't utilizing them properly, to the best of my advantage or whatever, and I had goggles. I feel like I had something to hold with my hands too, but I didn't have an oxygen tank or any sort of breathing device. I didn't go up for air. Air is irrelevant to this person. I was circling around, making sure my flipper was attached to my foot well enough, and then I began to flap towards shore. The water was very green and bubbly, and comfortably free of wild life, sort of like what you see in magazine ads when the models are under water and their hair is all, whosh. That's my favorite part of swimming, is how my hair feels under water. 

Anyway, I was heading towards shore, almost there even though the water was no shallower and the sand below me presumably no more rocky, and I was thinking about sharks, and how sharks are typically non-violent and they mistake humans for dolphins or seals or whatever and that's the only reason they would attack. 

I felt contented by these facts but I felt like I needed to turn around. And there was a shark there. I didn't make the connection. If I had, it certainly would be strange that it was so close to shore, and very certainly scream-worthy. Once my brain was in the condition to freak out, having realized that it was scared of sharks, especially the shark mere feet away from me in it's natural habitat, I started to swim frantically faster, but my flippers became flimsy and uncooperative as they were before. 

Then I thought that I should behave less like a dolphin, despite the fact that I had none of the grace that would cause that confusion. So I stopped swimming to float there until I thought that maybe dolphins acted like that all of the time, playing dead. I have no idea where the shark was through all of this, but at that point it hit me. 

Down my left side was stuck this shard of something, like bone, or a naked twig, something that looked like that, so I assumed I had been bitten, but I wasn't scared of that, but glad that the shark was gone.

Then there was a man and a lady, the man standing there with a tracking device, like a phone signal tracker. There were dots for the man and lady, a dot for the attacked swimmer and her name, a dot labeled shark, and a dot with the swimmer that had a four letter name that I think ended with 'by' like Maby, but this dot is a boy, and Maby isn't really a name to begin with, let alone a boy name.

Then I'm on the shore, with "Maby" and I realized that I wasn't actually cut. But I was sure that the shark had hit me.

 I have now concluded that the shark did hit me with it's crocodile strength tail and caused my ribs to break internally. This dream was definitely alluding to my ever present habit to procrastination. I don't think it told me anything I don't know though, but I'm sort of honored that it decided to be that clearly metaphorical at all.

We're Not In Kansas Anymore

I have kooky dreams. Every day. They're awesome. But, just like you can't remember half of them as soon as you wake up- you can't remember any of the super duper dream lands as you go throughout the day, let alone the rest of your internet-using-career. Posts from now on that are "by" Alice, mean that they are kooky dreams I had and desire to record for easier recollection.

Note: I experience dreams in a convoluted way that makes "self" and people hard to describe. I am not me. People are not who they are. They are combinations of all actors and characters and real people and people that could be real that I could know and faceless stock people that I might like to know someday. In order to describe my dreams to myself, I push my identity on to the nearest dream person. More on that later... Anyway.

Wrinkles

Crow's feet are definitely the cutest wrinkles ever. This post has been prompted by an anti-aging commercial against crow's feet. Crazy cream-users...

Awwww...

Broken computer, broken heart

I am SORRY, computer, for any wrongs I have done you! I should've bought a protective foamy cover for you, but I didn't. I should get the special screen cloth to wipe my fingerprints off your screen, but I use Windex-the off brand. I should not eat and use you at the same time- but I do... I didn't treat you right, computer, and for that, I apologize. On that note, or perhaps another hand, or something like that, WHY YOU GOTTA DO DAT TO ME? You broke. You no longer recognize your cord as your ally, you don't recognize it at all. That's just rude. Never fear. I will buy you a new (eighty-dollar) cord, with my limited funds. I promise not to drop you again, I will always get down, out of my bed, then set you on a safe, stable surface before I go to bed. I will use a napkin, instead of my tongue, to remove BBQ chip crumbs from my fingers before I touch you. Whatever you want. Just, please, for the love of god, keep working until I graduate. That is the allotted time that I need you for. THEN (and only then) you may retire, and I will use you for Free Cell and Free Cell only, and I will use my MacBook Pro for work. Deal?



On a COMPLETELY unrelated note, look at this cupcake.

Eww. Now. I like cupcakes. The icing is supposed to be the best part.
You know, I shouldn't even have to post this. I am not going to forget! This is one of my principles! This is a deep GUT REACTION THAT WILL NEVER GO AWAY! But, on the off chance that someone wants to bring me a cupcake at any given time (I will totally give you my exact coordinates so you can do just that, but brownies are good too) don't bring me a cupcake like this. I will NOT EAT IT.
The icing is SUPPOSED TO BE

I am a little obsessed with ALL CAPS TODAY. Sorry. This is one third of the amount of capital letters I was originally going to use.

Anyway. The icing is supposed to be the best part. Not that icing up there. That is what cool whip is supposed to look like, when it's from a can. Canned cool whip is definitely the most entertaining way to go. We all know that. That icing up there looks... evil. Like decorative poop. It reminds me of poop. Why do they have to get all "fancy?" Hmmm? IT'S A CUPCAKE PEOPLE!!!! Cupcakes, by definition, are supposed to be childish and silly, and the opposite of fancy. Cupcakes are like mac and cheese from a box. Mac and cheese from a box will never be macaroni pasta with a heavy creamy cheese sauce that warms you up and makes you feel like there are cobblestone streets directly outside of your window. Cupcakes will never be cheesecake. Cupcakes should remind you of getting all excited because of how swelteringly hot it is outside, so you change into your cheesy little swimsuit with the huge Hawaiian flowers all over it, and you run like a madman outside to play with the garden hose. Then you stand at the door, dripping and full of energy, no matter what your mood is, and beg to go inside. But you can't. Because you're an annoying little kid, with dirty grassy feet, and you are soaked. So you wiggle your cute little kid butt until your mom brings you a cupcake. It's ugly. But you look at that sloppily smeared on pink icing, which has hardened from sitting on the counter all day, and you see perfection. Because now you can lick on that cupcake like it's a tootsie roll pop, and the icing is all sugary and full of delicious red 40 and imitation vanilla flavor. Then you infuse the sugary remnants with the muffin top, gnaw into it like a wild animal, and throw the rest of that nasty thing into the yard. NOT FANCY!

Fancy and yummy are not in the same ball park. They can be, if they want to be, they often are, but from a child's point of view- the two couldn't be more different.

What have we learned?
1. Slop that icing on like you don't even care what it looks like, because it's already made of sugar and pink, and you are thinking about putting sprinkles on, but only the good kind that isn't the gross rock sugar that couldn't conflict more with the soft textures of the cupcake, and basically, a bunch of kids are going to eat the cupcakes. The less fancy, the better it tastes, and the less "butter cream" they get on their forehead.
2. Don't think I don't have a rule about any given topic. I have rules about EVERYTHING, and very few things to back those rules up. But those things, those backers, could stretch on for PAGES.

Oh, eyebrows.

My eyebrows look ridiculous. And that's saying something. Because they are the only hairs on my head that are currently all the same color. I have a cornucopia of color growing out of my scalp. (I almost said skull, but that would be biologically and common-sensically inaccurate.)

like the Dickens

Internet, you shall be the receiver for my many complaints, because it would be unbecoming of me to unload on an actual human.

Today, I fell down the (I don't care what you say, they are NOT spiral) stairs, through no fault of my own, for no good reason (to retrieve JUNK mail), and it is rather inconvenient for me.
As a consolation for myself, I have decided to do absolutely FRAGGING nothing for the rest of the day. It shall be lovely.

Rule: College is the last time in your life where you can do as much or, more importantly, as little as humanly possible, depending on your own mood. Intend to take advantage of this fact, or regret it for the rest of your life. Due to the fact that there are TWO opportunities, you will realistically regret whichever one you choose. (To cater to my own personality and desires, not at all my own worth or needs, I have chosen the latter personality, and have filled my semester with absolutely nothing but worrying about money and procrastinating assignments and watching SHOOTloads of television online.

Also, on another, but sort of related note-
Pain is UN-American! Pain traps you in that one spot that you feel that you may not die, and if you move at all, you are punished severely. Cruel AND all-too usual. Evil. Evil evil evil. Pain sucks.

With that, I only have one other thing to say:
Owwww.

(whiney noises)

Nothing.

That's what I've got right now. My eyebrows are too tired for the rest of my face to move.

Lazy, hazy, crazy days of SPRING

While trying to figure out what exactly Lorelai said to do to get the song out of her head (which I did NOT successfully find, but it had something to do with getting another song stuck in your head like the unhearit.com philosophy), I found this quote from the same episode.

"I got here early and there was nothing to do except feed gummy bears to the bomb-sniffing dogs which, apparently, the United States government frowns upon."


Silly government. I thought both references were relevant. Number one, because the government can be very silly. Number two, because spring break is coming up really soon, and I am too lazy to think of something original right now. So I am going to repost this picture in the spirit of Gilmore Girls.

I like it. Mainly just because my mom, from what she tells me, thinks I am one GENIUS donkey. For sure. Fer sherrrr. RRRR. Apparently, I'm also a pirate!

bad llama!

Then, after the old man threw off the emperor Cusco's groove, he was thrown out of the palace. Then Cusco was a llama until he learned to work together with people and not be bossy. Despite my great love for this hilarious movie, I did not learn my lesson. Why?

Rule: Oranges are too fragrant for normal meal times, and shouldn't be peeled in the presence of such meal times. The one time that they are appropriate is in a square package with a stylized 'S' on it that represents a certain juicy contradiction. Even then, not that great.

So I had to tell my darling roommate to remove her orange eating face from my presence. 

But then I got compared to Regina George, so then I had to say that John Stamos has commented on MY beauty, just like Regina, and everything was all better. Not quite being strapped to a log with a guy in a poncho, to be rushed off a waterfall with a sharp drop and rocks at the bottom, but close enough.

Let's see, what else?

I watched "Fargo" last night, instead of sleeping. 

It's won Oscar's, I don't NEED to point out the good, but just to establish a pattern, I will.

Silver lining: I really enjoyed the lack of epilogue. It clearly established that they knew exactly what they were doing. They just let it end. Very nice. It was paced really interestingly. I was an hour in, and it seemed like nothing consequential had happened yet, but since I hadn't noticed that an hour had passed, it was just a weird time warpy thing that was very enjoyable. I'd probably watch it again to listen to the soundtrack-which was peppy and yet somber (but that's what I remember from 2 AM, so who knows) and would make for an interesting analysis of this "TRUE STORY." 

I don't know what else, and I think I am too tired to care. Jolly good.

songs on the side

I put "Lady In Spain" over there, because it is currently my favorite song. I like it. I like it a lot. Anyhow, I think up of a list of music for when I commit to getting an MP3 player that I won't lose. I'm thinking one of these cheap versions called a Zen. It seems alright. So, here I go...

• Ingrid Michaelson, obviously
• Regina Specktor, also obviously, but I already have a lot of hers that I like
• Some Beatles, but none of that unpopular artistic stuff-that is NOT the point of listening to older music. It's all about recognizing it.
• So on that note- The Temptations and and Queen and The Four Seasons and "Love Train" by the O'Jays and "Build Me Up Buttercup" and "Come On (Ilene)" and "The Longest Time," stuff that mom would blast BLAST on Saturdays while we (she) cleaned like idunno... Rush? or Joni Mitchell? 
• By the way, idunno is an official word
• Reminder- talk about the universal amazingness of "Love Train" on commercials
• Iron and Wine, but maybe just the Boy With The Coin video because you know the flamenco is the best part
• Tegan and Sara
• MGMT- Electric Feel and Time to Pretend
• That one Modest Mouse song is (Dashboard/Float On)- I have so many songs that remind me of summer driving including some Joanna Newsom (not too much, it's too calm most of the time)
• A touch of Noah and the Whale
• Scala's Creep, because it's just SO creepy
• I need to reference Grey's Anatomy, because I feel like I'm forgetting someone
• GLEE for the classics
• Mary Poppins? Glee should have Wicked and Singin' In the Rain all tied up, but remember those too
• Ghosts: Band of Horses- Is There A Ghost; Stars- Dead Hearts
• She and Him! But don't go crazy, because again too much of it drives you nuts because it's so calm
• Some Kate Nash, some Juno soundtrack
• RA RA RIOT! You have your faves, but still.  Too Dramatic was just perfect for the credits
• Florence and the Machine which mainly serves to remind me of Adele, she's pretty great
• (to be continued... I'll do some Pandora research and add stuff on...)

Also, as of today, I am 18 and 5/6!

Just Made This Noise: "HAHHH!" This is so snort-worthy.

I hope, and I am pretty sure based on past experience, that Henry will love this, because I can't afford to buy him a real birthday present.

Only 495 days until "The Dark Knight Rises" (yay!) 

Woohoo for Christopher Nolan's directing prowess!!!

Can't believe I don't have my camera at a time like this

Can't take quality pics of my hair, can't document this genius idea that I have...
I know exactly where my camera is. It's at home, resting peacefully in the coat that I also forgot at home five weeks ago. Bummer. Irrelevant, because you know what else is at home?

This man. This man is at home.

This man is my fasha.
You'd think I'd be super attractive with genes like this.

Now. Look at this man.

This is Harrison Ford and some random little girl from a movie called
"Regarding Henry" which is my brother's name, so that's funny.

Now look back at my father:

Using a different picture is purely for my own blinkin' benefit.
Daddio's face is slimmer now.

Now look back at Harrison Ford. Please connect this syntax with that of the Old Spice commercial.

If you have not seen the commercial, rename your house's roof to "a rock" because you most certainly live under one.

Here.

And here's the Seasame Street version, if you REALLY want to expose yourself to culture.

So. Now that you've been exposed, imagine that anyone made one of these. With that guy up there, it would be really different because he is really dry, and though he is a very primary source of comedic things for me, he has a very serious tone to himself, so the commercial would be REALLY different. It would be really funny. That's the idea.

It'd be all, look at my dad, look at Harrison Ford, look back at my dad, now, my dad doesn't REALLY look like Harrison Ford, but if you squint, which YOU could do with the help of Old Spice SOAP IN YOUR EYES! Look down, look up, look-

Uhhh...

Okay. I've got nothing after that. But still. Hilarious, right?

Also, look at this picture, which if I had been able to use legally, then I totally would have because if my dad is Harrison (because he looks like him and has a similar demeanor) then that makes me the rain-boot-wearing, TV production director-wannabe (while I am both of those things!!!) of Rachel McAdams (my ultimate girl crush! She's so boootiful!!!) So these are all nice things.

I'm so vain, you probably think-

It's almost like this blog is about me. Which it is. Whoa.
Mind blown.

What makes this one vain is that my opinions here are directly about me. And more specifically, my hair, and my ridiculous decision to cut it all off. Goodbye hair! Goodbye goddess like tresses! Of course, I didn't actually ever do anything with my hair when I had it, so now when it gets long again, the idea is I will have trained myself to mess with it. Because now, in order to do ANYTHING with my hair, it is an ordeal. A very frustrating ordeal. But on the plus side, it always looks cute (well, I don't know that yet, it has been like this for 26 hours.)

Anyway, today I tried to braid it.

The result: an incredibly blurry picture taken with my webcam. Who's the man? I'm female, but I'M THE MAN!

I've only recently been semi-successful with french braiding, which was necessary because there is barely any ends to put in pigtails, let alone plait. So. That's interesting. It looks cute in sepia, I think.

I was watching too many videos of Zooey D. and Regina Specktor which reminded me of Julia Roberts and Cate Blanchett and Walk the Line Reese Witherspoon and and Kate Winslet and Audrey Hepburn, all of these beautiful ladies with their long red/brunette hair. Which was a bad idea- I felt like a dunce. It's not like I intend to be a copycat, that's just how I am. And it's really hard when you hair is a foot shorter than it's supposed to be.

So with that, I have decided that it is in my copycat-thriving-self's best interest if I dyed my hair blonde for a while, so that I can copy my short-haired folk like Marilyn and Rachel McAdams and Meg Ryan (from before she went nuts with the botox and lip plumpers) and Pleasantville/Overnight Delivery's Reese Witherspoon and Renee Zwell-whatever's Roxie Hart and I feel like there are more people for both things, but I don't remember who they are right now, and honestly probably never will. 

(I will go back brown for Marion Cotilliard and Audrey Tatou, but it has to get a little longer for them. Plus they're French, so I think that they are used to the delay anyway. I wonder how annoying that must be to get all of this media so much later?)

So that's really exciting, the blonde thing. I'm excited. Plus if I over bleach, I can just cut more hair off, get it as short as it is going to get for---forever.

Note how I got my good side in the above picture. I have known about my bad side ever since I discovered this HUGE freckle thing during my childhood.

I know what you're thinking. It doesn't look that big. But you have to imagine what it was like when my head was considerably smaller, because it didn't stretch or anything. What? It DIDN'T! IT WAS HUGE! 

My single-digit self might've said it was about half the height of her ear. That may be accurate. 

So. Fun stuff.

I intend to post stuff with SOME essence of value or interest, I just didn't want to forget about my frustrations, the internal struggle. Hair is DEEP stuff, man.

Stuff stuff stuff. I said that a lot. Now I've said it more. Stuff. Does that word NOT make you want some Oreos? Double-stuf?

like, like like?

Something that I noticed, beginning around the late years of middle school, was that people were getting really loose with their use of "love." Friends used it as a farewell, while I was in the process of fitting in the "Love you, Dad," after the "okay, bye," and the hang-up. But I got used to it. And I think I like it. I think it's still a nice thing to be floating around in the air, for people to hear about themselves and the people they have enjoyed talking with.

However, this increased usage has done something to my inner dictionary. I don't trust this word anymore, I mean, it's a nice word and all... but, you know how when you've been lazy or something your mom will say stuff like "I love you, but I don't like you right now." It puts a different spin on things.

Love has always meant, but is now reduced to only meaning, "I honestly want you to be happy. I don't wish your death."
NOW, let's apply some Newton up in here, for every action-there must be an equal and opposite reaction, and I am now I big fan of the word "like" (not when it comes to Facebook statuses, or things, mind you, these definitions are only for living beings.)

Where love means, "I don't want you to die yet," like means "I don't want you to leave me."
Where love means, "I hope you can find happiness," like means, "Let ME be the one to make you happy."
You can quote me on that if you want.

But, eh. Try not to take me too seriously. I have no worldly experience.

diamonds aren't my best friend, not even a little, but...

Anyway, I knew Monroe was smart, I'd heard it somewhere, and I chose to believe it because it was a nice thing to say. And, I just didn't see much about it- the only thing I'd heard her believing in, through a quote, was high heels and being fabulous and things like that. Cool, I can get behind that, I'm a girl deep down, but I didn't want to buy her posters.

This quote made me want to buy a poster:

"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Then I saw this one which is even smarter:

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." 

I'll probably get a Warhol one, or hipster-one with a Helvetica quote over it. Maybe I will find a rip off of this that isn't four thousand dollars: http://www.andrewward.com/Elliott_Erwitt_Photo_MARILYN_MONROE_NEW_YORK_CITY_1956.htm

Or I could just settle for the classic, despite the fact that I didn't think the movie was all that spectacular, 

The Seven Year Itch, 

Oh, gosh, she said this too: 

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."
  

And she talked about something that I believe people can see easier-you- without makeup; if you like makeup, whatever, I think you're beautiful without it, but I can see how you enjoy it, just like I like clothes and decoration and glitter, it's whatever, 

ANYWAY: "Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world." 

And there are all of these others, wonderful things that she said, that aren't too proud of themselves or too humble, and they're just so true to her self or at least what I know of her (this so strips away any misconception of falsehood I might've had,) and all of these quotes would make this two miles long.

Thumper Knows This Rule

I sure am developing a respect for Marilyn Monroe. Don't get me wrong, I didn't dislike her before, I just didn't understand why people loved her so much. I know people love her because she's hot. Except for some people apparently, when I was looking for the exact quote I wanted to put here, I saw all of these famous haters that said she wasn't all that and that she hadn't any talent on quoteland that Elizabeth Hurley said "I'd kill myself if I was as fat as Marilyn Monroe." First of all, Marilyn was a size 12 in the fifties. I'm a size 12 now, which would be considerably bigger, and I don't have nearly as a good of a figure which leads me conclude that Hurley is just a big ol' jealous bag of barf.

Anyway, some director named Otto said she was a vacuum with nipples. First of all, that's not possible. Vacuums are ugly. Otto is ugly.

Rule: I don't care if you dislike someone, but don't dislike them out loud. It breeds hate, because then your enemy is free to respond, and I have to hate on the haters, and it's just awful. So just shut up. Just respect the beauty in every person, and just be nice, and then we would live in a beautiful planet which would have the potential to eliminate the need for wars and money and all of the things that make us sad. We could just all get along. I'm not going to push too hard for that, that's something they can work on after I die, because I kind of enjoy the passion of being a pacifist and my kindness wouldn't make anyone's day if it wasn't as rare as it is. That could be annoying. To be continued.


Anywhoser, I was getting sort of cold on the mid-20th century which I was so fond of, especially Audrey Hepburn. I'm just such a hipster (except not, because I hear that real hipsters would never admit such a thing) that I am magnetically repulsed by popularity, and Audrey is getting mainstream. Which reminds me:
I was thinking that if she were here today, with all of the screen print t-shirts, and general lack of class, she would be appalled to see her face on a shirt, in the costume of a role that she didn't feel was very "her" and then people point at it and say, "oh, Katherine Hepburn" (and I was all, you're an old person, why don't you know who this is?) and for the people who get it right, they say Audrey, but they don't say Holly GoLightly, which is who is really on the shirt, but it all comes down to the idea: I don't think Audrey would want us to wear her face on a shirt, if we're going to call it Audrey and not Holly, I think she would want the focus to be on people we know, people we love, ourselves. She wouldn't wear a shirt with anyone's face on it, and I think she would be most honored by us being ourselves, and respecting her.
And if that doesn't prove how much I like Audrey still, then I'll say it, I still LIKE Audrey, but the passion is gone. Our fire isn't dead, as Jack would say, but it's sure not going to cook this hot dog tonight unless we do something, as I would say.

Then I stumbled upon Marilyn Monroe. Of course I knew of her before, and I was thinking about buying this swim suit that I think people would correlate with her. I do love the era. But this picture sums that up:
http://www.allposters.com/-sp/Marilyn-Monroe-Posters_i847695_.htm

It's a Marilyn disguised as Audrey! Ohmygod! It's Audlyn!

the URL: if a.k.a is "acka," then f.y.i. shall be "fuh-why"

So, fuh-why, or for your information, the URL is cowboogers.blogspot.com because the blog itself was originally called "And That's How They Named Hamburgers..." but that name was too long. I didn't realize it was too long until the URL was already decided, and botta-bing-batta-boom, there you have it. It's catchy though. I like it's seeming randomness.