First, I would like to say HAAAAPPY UNOFFENSIVE HOLIDAYS!!!! to my six followers.
Second, I would like to say MERRRYYY EVEN MORE UNNOFFENSIVE CHRISTMAKKANUQUANZA to everybody else who happens upon this.
Thirdly. I wrote a poem. And I hate it. But because I'm kind of in a mood (define that how you may), I decided to publish it anyway. It probably will depress you. But part of it is funny. You could just skip the end. The end is the sad part (it always is). I'm sorry if my attempts at depth and thought-provokingness are boring. I don't plan on doing it again. I just...ahhh who knows. It was supposed to be perky and uplifting but my brain wouldn't WRITE a perky and uplifting ending. So this happened.
Also if you see any lines that strike you as something fancy and poetic and mystical...that was an accident.
I'll probably offend people.
What's new.
--
'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the stores,
The stresses were building under pressures galore.
There were dinners to buy and cookies to bake,
Not to mention the Christmas pictures left to take.
As the countdown continued, ten days became four,
And the shoppers were shopping and shopping some more!
The kids wrote their lists in unreadable fonts
To convey to their mothers what presents they'd want.
That commercial had yellow robots that had guns,
But if she got a blue one, they wouldn't have fun.
The jackets they wanted had to be Tony Hawk,
And terror would reign if she got them all SOCKS... (old joke)
The TV's were streaming from morning to night,
Their HD screens gleaming with goodness and light.
Just kidding.
Commercials poured out of the out-of-date speakers,
Saying to them, "Get new ones! And maybe some sneakers!
Buy video games full of violence and blood!
That's a good way to spend a day based on love!"
And the kids all said, "Ooohhhh," and their brains (which were rotted)
Told them, "That's what you need!" So their moms went and got it.
Meanwhile, back at the house, I was home with my mama,
Exhausted from finals and college's drama.
"What should I buy you for Christmas?" she said.
But I had no visions that danced in my head.
I thought of ideas, but they wouldn't form.
(My brain wasn't rotted. It was back in my dorm.)
So she made me explore, despite my contentment,
For she thought I'd be bummed out with only two presents.
On an outing last Wednesday, with Deb and my car,
I attempted to shop, but I didn't get far.
We ventured back home without losing much time,
For the outing, I fear, was less than sublime.
...let me explain.
The plazas I frequent have many good stores.
That's why I frequent them. That's what they're for.
But though I drive well, and there was enough room,
The parking, I found, was a gauntlet of doom.
And the faces I saw glaring down with great gall,
Left me wondering who really likes Christmas at all.
However. Today I went walking outside
On a simple excursion to see Christmas lights.
I saw families with babies and couples with wrinkles,
And friends taking pictures by blankets of twinkles.
There were trumpeters playing all sorts of sweet tunes,
And I saw fake snow fall in a night with no moon.
"This is Christmas," I thought, and I walked to a stand
Where I sought some hot cocoa to warm up my hands.
My friend spotted me with some cash, cuz I'm broke,
And our drinks were bestowed upon our chilly throats.
As we left, they called out, "Thank you for your donation!
It goes to support the Make a Wish foundation!"
...dang.
There are children in hospitals, sick as can be,
With just as much hope as we have Christmas glee.
In the midst of the decking the halls and the holly,
Is it too much to ask to PRETEND to be jolly?
What happened to "No matter what, you say 'Thank you,'"
And "Don't throw a fit; you're a brat, and I'll spank you"?
The Christmas-y joy I was hoping to know,
Is melting to puddles, as if it was snow.
Grandmas I imagined so rosy and sweet,
Almost crushed my front headlight on their way to the street.
Maybe you're stressed. You're grumpy. You're fill-in-your-answer.
There's a lot you must handle.
But you still don't have cancer.
(the end.)
Again, I don't like getting deep on here; it's kind of where I go to make fun of things that bother me, but...this bothered me...and I kind of made fun of it...and then I also felt like pointing out that I hate hate hate cancer. So yes.
And for those in our lives that are afflicted with cancer, then my prayer is that they especially have a Merry Christmas.
I think it's safe to assume it's yours too.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
In honor of everyone who knows what SATB stands for.
So I know all of you have been rabidly hungering for another of my riveting displays of wittiness, but alas, these lovely strings of works have been far out of reach over the past...very long time. So to all my beautiful readers (all five of you) you must know this: it is quite difficult to just whip one of these up out of nowhere, and that in order for this whipping up of these to occur, an event consisting of acceptable magnitude, humor, and not-being-difficult-to-criticize-ness also has to occur within a time period of, at most, 48 hours beforehand. And the whipping up must take an extensive time of intense care in my work, even more intense editing, about an hour of fearing my composition's inadequacy, and then a few seconds of concern for the feelings of people I probably offended (actually that only refers to my last blog post, which I'm not even really sorry for) before I can muster up the courage to finally log in and post it.
And sometimes I forget my password, which slows the production chain down a bit.
Also, I've been sick, and I have a lot of homework and tests and Christmas concerts and rehearsals for Christmas concerts and practicing music for Christmas concerts and OF COURSE running through the venue during a cue to cue of the Christmas concerts without falling and breaking my nose. And for the sake of those readers who are my mother, let me just say that I also locked myself out of my room, which has all of my books I need to study inside of it, which is why I am writing this. Not that I really need to study because she did such a wonderful job homeschooling me.
I love you.
So speaking of Christmas concerts, I have one this weekend, and the people in charge have almost sold out two shows. That's 9000 people who are PAYING to see a lot of college kids execute the musical phenomenon that is choreography, also known as the flailing of the arms to a rhythm. It is also possible that they will hear us sing, if we can force down our coughs for long enough. Some of us also get to hold plastic candles. That should be a real treat.
But being completely honest, I really enjoy Christmas concerts. You can learn a lot from them. For instance, there are about a hundred and twelve different ways to express the birth of the Messiah. "The first noel the angel did say!" "Lo how a rose e'er blooming!" "De virgin Mary had a baby boy!" "You'll go down in history, like Columbus!" They are also good ways to reconnect with your family without having to spend gas money. (And by that I mean your gas money. They should be happy to blow theirs on something other than your tuition.) The best part about Christmas concerts, though, is when they're over, and you can put another notch in your belt of how many Christmas concerts you've sung in. It gives you a lot more prestige in the wonderful world of choir and such.
Which brings me to this. Today I realized, while trying to write a facebook status,
[DISCLAIMER. Facebook statuses take up way too much of my life. They are not merely an expression of "what's on my mind," but a measurement of my social life. And my standards are way too high. For example, if a status does not have at least ten "likes," reread and consider deletion. I have a problem.
DISCLAIMER FOR THE DISCLAIMER: I've already blogged about this.]
that even though there are a lot of things that bother me about choir, and it goes against many aspects of my personality and is honestly something really random for a biology major to be involved in, it has become so integrated and fused to my being that not being stressed over a Christmas conert is more unnatural than becoming sick because of one. I've been in choir for about six years, if you don't count singing in little baby choir when I was...a little baby. Which is why I have compiled this list (we're just getting to the list NOW?! That's one heck of an introduction!!) of things that I have discovered during my first year of college choir. Oddly enough, you might recognize some of them, and should probably be embarrassed if you do. Well. Maybe. It might just be me.
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN IN CHOIR TOO LONG IF...
1. You're learning your fourth arrangement of a song.
This summer, I got a batch of music and voice parts, and I realized that not only did I already know one of the pieces, but I knew other versions of it as well. I'm actually not sure why I found that strange. Maybe because I had never really considered the idea that being in a musical group for all of middle school and part of high school could actually be pertinent to my undergraduate choral adventures. Or maybe I was bothered by the song the first time and was wondering why directors liked it so much. It's called "How Can I Keep from Singing," and with a few years of experience under the right conditions, the answer to that question will become very clear to you.
2. You know the song already, but not the voice part.
This happens most often during Handel's (in)famous "Hallelujah Chorus." I hear worried people all the time saying, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT PART TO SING BECAUSE LAST YEAR I LEARNED THE SOPRANO BUT NOW I'M AN ALTO AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO BECAUSE THIS SONG SAYS THE SAME THING 80 TIMES SO I DIDN'T LEARN IT THE FIRST TIME ANYWAY." And I concur! The best approach is just to pick a part and sing it, no matter where your director puts you, because it will be different every year. Which brings me to my next point...
3. You don't know what voice part you are.*
This is actually the opposite of what you might think. You would guess that someone with 6+ years of experience would be able to say something like, "Oh yeah, I'm a baritone." But you, in fact, are wrong. The ranges of different voice parts actually overlap enough that you can be put one above or below pretty easily. So using math, I can say that since the more recent voice parts I've sung were Soprano 2 and Alto 2, I'm probably an Alto 1. But a lot of people think I'm a soprano. And I could probably carry a tenor part if the planet was counting on me to release it from some sort of music-depraved tyranny. So there's really no way of telling.
Sometimes, during my junior year in high school, I snuck over to the other side of the class where the altos sat and sang their part instead.
4. You know jokes about other voice parts. Or just sopranos.
What's the difference between a soprano and an alto?
An alto can read music.
What's the difference between a soprano and a howler monkey?
Lipstick.
What's a soprano's best excuse for escaping an awkward conversation?
Vocal rest. (That one I made up, but it's actually true.)
5. You've used vocal rest as an excuse to escape an awkward conversation.
And now you can never use it again.
6. You've walked into a concert venue panicking because you're late, and suddenly realized that this isn't the first panic attack you've had in this hallway.
This is a semi-creepy way of saying you've used the same location for a concert before and didn't realize it until being smacked in the face by deja vu. Which is actually what happened to me today, and inspired this post. Basically, after running back and forth through the same hall trying to figure out how the HECK to get onto the balcony, I realized, not only did I know how to get onto the balcony, but I probably knew the building better than 85% of the people there. And every other building around. I'd eaten in some of them, slept in some of them, changed in some of them, and sung in most of them. It's a weird feeling, walking past a bathroom that looks oddly familiar and thinking, "Hey... I peed in there!"
7. Guys in tuxes don't phase you.
There comes a point after being around guys in collared shirts and ties for days and then guys in coat tails and cummerbunds for days and even guys in snazzy gray suits with purple ties (which definitely takes the cake in the awesome choir outfit category) that even if a guy has his bow tie straight, is working his tux like nobody's business, and is holding himself with a poise that matches and even surpasses the intensity and class of the outfit he's wearing...
...no one cares.
8. You refuse to sing the melody.
If you hear a song on the radio you know, harmonize. If you hear a song on the radio you don't know, harmonize. If you sing a song in church and you absolutely must, sing the octave. No...actually that's no good either; try a third above. Singing the melody is not just the easy way out. It's sign of weakness.
9. Your current choir director's wife was your director's accompanist in eighth grade, you sit with their daughter, who was also in your choir in eighth grade, in chemistry, and almost all your male friends are in your brother choir, which is under the direction of your high school choir director's choir director, because you randomly ended up going to the same college as he did.
And you're not even a music major.
*voice parts for the musically uneducated:
Soprano 1- squeaky high women's part
Soprano 2- moderately high women's part
Alto 1- every Disney princess, ever.
Alto 2- manly women's part.
Tenor 1- really manly women's part, or sometimes men.
Tenor 2- normal famous person's range.
Baritone- indecisive man's part.
Bass- people who talk so low you can't even understand them.
And sometimes I forget my password, which slows the production chain down a bit.
Also, I've been sick, and I have a lot of homework and tests and Christmas concerts and rehearsals for Christmas concerts and practicing music for Christmas concerts and OF COURSE running through the venue during a cue to cue of the Christmas concerts without falling and breaking my nose. And for the sake of those readers who are my mother, let me just say that I also locked myself out of my room, which has all of my books I need to study inside of it, which is why I am writing this. Not that I really need to study because she did such a wonderful job homeschooling me.
I love you.
So speaking of Christmas concerts, I have one this weekend, and the people in charge have almost sold out two shows. That's 9000 people who are PAYING to see a lot of college kids execute the musical phenomenon that is choreography, also known as the flailing of the arms to a rhythm. It is also possible that they will hear us sing, if we can force down our coughs for long enough. Some of us also get to hold plastic candles. That should be a real treat.
But being completely honest, I really enjoy Christmas concerts. You can learn a lot from them. For instance, there are about a hundred and twelve different ways to express the birth of the Messiah. "The first noel the angel did say!" "Lo how a rose e'er blooming!" "De virgin Mary had a baby boy!" "You'll go down in history, like Columbus!" They are also good ways to reconnect with your family without having to spend gas money. (And by that I mean your gas money. They should be happy to blow theirs on something other than your tuition.) The best part about Christmas concerts, though, is when they're over, and you can put another notch in your belt of how many Christmas concerts you've sung in. It gives you a lot more prestige in the wonderful world of choir and such.
Which brings me to this. Today I realized, while trying to write a facebook status,
[DISCLAIMER. Facebook statuses take up way too much of my life. They are not merely an expression of "what's on my mind," but a measurement of my social life. And my standards are way too high. For example, if a status does not have at least ten "likes," reread and consider deletion. I have a problem.
DISCLAIMER FOR THE DISCLAIMER: I've already blogged about this.]
that even though there are a lot of things that bother me about choir, and it goes against many aspects of my personality and is honestly something really random for a biology major to be involved in, it has become so integrated and fused to my being that not being stressed over a Christmas conert is more unnatural than becoming sick because of one. I've been in choir for about six years, if you don't count singing in little baby choir when I was...a little baby. Which is why I have compiled this list (we're just getting to the list NOW?! That's one heck of an introduction!!) of things that I have discovered during my first year of college choir. Oddly enough, you might recognize some of them, and should probably be embarrassed if you do. Well. Maybe. It might just be me.
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN IN CHOIR TOO LONG IF...
1. You're learning your fourth arrangement of a song.
This summer, I got a batch of music and voice parts, and I realized that not only did I already know one of the pieces, but I knew other versions of it as well. I'm actually not sure why I found that strange. Maybe because I had never really considered the idea that being in a musical group for all of middle school and part of high school could actually be pertinent to my undergraduate choral adventures. Or maybe I was bothered by the song the first time and was wondering why directors liked it so much. It's called "How Can I Keep from Singing," and with a few years of experience under the right conditions, the answer to that question will become very clear to you.
2. You know the song already, but not the voice part.
This happens most often during Handel's (in)famous "Hallelujah Chorus." I hear worried people all the time saying, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT PART TO SING BECAUSE LAST YEAR I LEARNED THE SOPRANO BUT NOW I'M AN ALTO AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO BECAUSE THIS SONG SAYS THE SAME THING 80 TIMES SO I DIDN'T LEARN IT THE FIRST TIME ANYWAY." And I concur! The best approach is just to pick a part and sing it, no matter where your director puts you, because it will be different every year. Which brings me to my next point...
3. You don't know what voice part you are.*
This is actually the opposite of what you might think. You would guess that someone with 6+ years of experience would be able to say something like, "Oh yeah, I'm a baritone." But you, in fact, are wrong. The ranges of different voice parts actually overlap enough that you can be put one above or below pretty easily. So using math, I can say that since the more recent voice parts I've sung were Soprano 2 and Alto 2, I'm probably an Alto 1. But a lot of people think I'm a soprano. And I could probably carry a tenor part if the planet was counting on me to release it from some sort of music-depraved tyranny. So there's really no way of telling.
Sometimes, during my junior year in high school, I snuck over to the other side of the class where the altos sat and sang their part instead.
4. You know jokes about other voice parts. Or just sopranos.
What's the difference between a soprano and an alto?
An alto can read music.
What's the difference between a soprano and a howler monkey?
Lipstick.
What's a soprano's best excuse for escaping an awkward conversation?
Vocal rest. (That one I made up, but it's actually true.)
5. You've used vocal rest as an excuse to escape an awkward conversation.
And now you can never use it again.
6. You've walked into a concert venue panicking because you're late, and suddenly realized that this isn't the first panic attack you've had in this hallway.
This is a semi-creepy way of saying you've used the same location for a concert before and didn't realize it until being smacked in the face by deja vu. Which is actually what happened to me today, and inspired this post. Basically, after running back and forth through the same hall trying to figure out how the HECK to get onto the balcony, I realized, not only did I know how to get onto the balcony, but I probably knew the building better than 85% of the people there. And every other building around. I'd eaten in some of them, slept in some of them, changed in some of them, and sung in most of them. It's a weird feeling, walking past a bathroom that looks oddly familiar and thinking, "Hey... I peed in there!"
7. Guys in tuxes don't phase you.
There comes a point after being around guys in collared shirts and ties for days and then guys in coat tails and cummerbunds for days and even guys in snazzy gray suits with purple ties (which definitely takes the cake in the awesome choir outfit category) that even if a guy has his bow tie straight, is working his tux like nobody's business, and is holding himself with a poise that matches and even surpasses the intensity and class of the outfit he's wearing...
...no one cares.
8. You refuse to sing the melody.
If you hear a song on the radio you know, harmonize. If you hear a song on the radio you don't know, harmonize. If you sing a song in church and you absolutely must, sing the octave. No...actually that's no good either; try a third above. Singing the melody is not just the easy way out. It's sign of weakness.
9. Your current choir director's wife was your director's accompanist in eighth grade, you sit with their daughter, who was also in your choir in eighth grade, in chemistry, and almost all your male friends are in your brother choir, which is under the direction of your high school choir director's choir director, because you randomly ended up going to the same college as he did.
And you're not even a music major.
*voice parts for the musically uneducated:
Soprano 1- squeaky high women's part
Soprano 2- moderately high women's part
Alto 1- every Disney princess, ever.
Alto 2- manly women's part.
Tenor 1- really manly women's part, or sometimes men.
Tenor 2- normal famous person's range.
Baritone- indecisive man's part.
Bass- people who talk so low you can't even understand them.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Let's get together, yeah yeah STOP.
One of my friends told me a while back that my blog was my form of release, and that I shouldn't be ashamed of it. Another friend told me today that they missed my posts and wanted to hear more. And in a couple weeks, my theology professor will probably tell me that I could have done way better on my midterm. But there are a couple of things I need to address.
First of all, I think it's absolutely ridiculous that I've been in college almost two months and people are already in relationships and planning marriage. We're eighteen years old--still drastically hormonal--how are we supposed to be making these decisions already?! We are like heroic baby lizards, slowly emerging from underneath a big rock of refuge, surveying the desert landscape for the first time, warming up under the hot sun, hearing the far off cries of predatory eagles and embarking on our first searches for oblivious crunchy insects! We have no time to go lay eggs! What are you thinking!?
Secondly, aside from that one time I explained God using clams, that was probably the best analogy I've ever come up with.
Dating stresses me out. Not that I've ever done it. That might actually be why it stresses me out. I think people just make this huge deal about it and then complain about not having boyfriends and then go and get boyfriends when they could be doing way better things than dating boyfriends. Like writing a blog. Without a boyfriend. And not caring about boyfriends. And not even thinking about boyfriends. Or wondering why they've never had a boyfriend. Ever. Ever ever ever ever. But I prefer the approach of learning valuable life skills, like........
1. Typing with a box of Wheat Thins on your head. Actually the box is empty. But I'm really good at it. Not that this is about me.
2. Whistling. It's not as widespread a talent as you think. Someone's bound to be super jell.
3. Develop a hypothetical writing style, such as talking about yourself being single without letting on that it's actually about you.
4. Catching the Wheat Thins box when it falls off of your head.
The possibilities are really quite endless.
But being completely honest, the whole "GET A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" mentality is not just taking up emotional energy and depriving us of valuable life-skill-developing time. It's affecting the social environment.
(WARNING: Author develops bad mood right about...now.)
The girls I knew in high school were giddy and nervous and at the most maybe a wee bit conniving when Sadie Hawkins rolled around. Now that I'm in college and have encountered older and more experienced young women, I don't even know why we have a Sadie's anymore, because I feel like setting wolverines loose on the campus would end up being less destructive, and might even save money.
The state of females that I will be encountering in the next few weeks makes me worried. I have rubbed my temples nervously, sighed heavily and facepalmed abundantly already. Sure, there are some chill girls who are kind of half and half on the whole thing. And there are girls who are already dating people and are by default not involved in this nonsense. And though to some the "ring by spring" mentality may be a bother, it really only freaks me out about how old I am. What disturbs me (and quite honestly, makes me want to throw chairs out of windows) are the girls who say "OH MY GOSH. 'Ring by spring' is sooooooo needy. I'm so above that. I don't need or want a husband right now because I have so much stuff in my life I need to get in order and I want to start a career and become a feminist and travel and blah blah blah!!" *triumphant stance* And if you think that, then I respect you. And I support you. And I will believe you, once you stop making eyes and hitting on and desperately clinging to every guy you've spoken to since you got here. Seriously, at least the "needy" ones are being honest.
aslgha;elifjcalenalkgalkdfngrk.
I don't know how to finish this with dignity. So I won't try, and I'll just finish with this. To my homegirls who are feeling lonesome and who are wondering why things are the way they are: being single is secretly really cool. You have better things to do while you wait. When I see you, I see a person who has dignity and self-respect. Which is quite a feat, because, a lot of girls are ranked in my brain right now under "angry pterodactyl." Don't hate on your life because all your friends have/have had boyfriends and you don't/never have had/think you will become a cat lady. Cats are super awesome.
And so are you.
First of all, I think it's absolutely ridiculous that I've been in college almost two months and people are already in relationships and planning marriage. We're eighteen years old--still drastically hormonal--how are we supposed to be making these decisions already?! We are like heroic baby lizards, slowly emerging from underneath a big rock of refuge, surveying the desert landscape for the first time, warming up under the hot sun, hearing the far off cries of predatory eagles and embarking on our first searches for oblivious crunchy insects! We have no time to go lay eggs! What are you thinking!?
Secondly, aside from that one time I explained God using clams, that was probably the best analogy I've ever come up with.
Dating stresses me out. Not that I've ever done it. That might actually be why it stresses me out. I think people just make this huge deal about it and then complain about not having boyfriends and then go and get boyfriends when they could be doing way better things than dating boyfriends. Like writing a blog. Without a boyfriend. And not caring about boyfriends. And not even thinking about boyfriends. Or wondering why they've never had a boyfriend. Ever. Ever ever ever ever. But I prefer the approach of learning valuable life skills, like........
1. Typing with a box of Wheat Thins on your head. Actually the box is empty. But I'm really good at it. Not that this is about me.
2. Whistling. It's not as widespread a talent as you think. Someone's bound to be super jell.
3. Develop a hypothetical writing style, such as talking about yourself being single without letting on that it's actually about you.
4. Catching the Wheat Thins box when it falls off of your head.
The possibilities are really quite endless.
But being completely honest, the whole "GET A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" mentality is not just taking up emotional energy and depriving us of valuable life-skill-developing time. It's affecting the social environment.
(WARNING: Author develops bad mood right about...now.)
The girls I knew in high school were giddy and nervous and at the most maybe a wee bit conniving when Sadie Hawkins rolled around. Now that I'm in college and have encountered older and more experienced young women, I don't even know why we have a Sadie's anymore, because I feel like setting wolverines loose on the campus would end up being less destructive, and might even save money.
The state of females that I will be encountering in the next few weeks makes me worried. I have rubbed my temples nervously, sighed heavily and facepalmed abundantly already. Sure, there are some chill girls who are kind of half and half on the whole thing. And there are girls who are already dating people and are by default not involved in this nonsense. And though to some the "ring by spring" mentality may be a bother, it really only freaks me out about how old I am. What disturbs me (and quite honestly, makes me want to throw chairs out of windows) are the girls who say "OH MY GOSH. 'Ring by spring' is sooooooo needy. I'm so above that. I don't need or want a husband right now because I have so much stuff in my life I need to get in order and I want to start a career and become a feminist and travel and blah blah blah!!" *triumphant stance* And if you think that, then I respect you. And I support you. And I will believe you, once you stop making eyes and hitting on and desperately clinging to every guy you've spoken to since you got here. Seriously, at least the "needy" ones are being honest.
aslgha;elifjcalenalkgalkdfngrk.
I don't know how to finish this with dignity. So I won't try, and I'll just finish with this. To my homegirls who are feeling lonesome and who are wondering why things are the way they are: being single is secretly really cool. You have better things to do while you wait. When I see you, I see a person who has dignity and self-respect. Which is quite a feat, because, a lot of girls are ranked in my brain right now under "angry pterodactyl." Don't hate on your life because all your friends have/have had boyfriends and you don't/never have had/think you will become a cat lady. Cats are super awesome.
And so are you.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Welcome to COLLEGE. That will be fourteen million dollars.
Well you guys...the big day came. And now it's over, and I'm sitting in my dorm room typing away on my blog because I have yet to construct a successful social life. (Yes, I think I just might be "that kid.")
Other than that though, stuff is fine. Lots of people keep asking me what I'm doing at orientation, and whether or not college is everything I hoped and dreamed, and if I'm worried about my classes, and what I plan on eating for lunch in the caf tomorrow, and quite honestly, I would begin to refrain from that kind of intense questioning, because I'm on the verge of becoming violent. Just kidding!
But seriously.
As annoying as those questions are, however, I've found that those are in some cases not bad conversation topics at all, because it means that everything is going normally. Those are normal questions. And you get asked them by everyone around you, because they expect you to be a normal individual. Unfortunately, there are a few questions that, as I've noticed, have a little more consequence than the aforementioned. And since I've been here for a week and have had such vast intellectual experiences, I thought I would list some interrogatory comments that you MAYBE want to avoid being asked (or asking, for that matter) within your first few days of undergraduate schooling. Seven, one for each day of the week.
Disclaimer: Not all of these questions have been directed at me. One was directed at someone I was standing next to.
1. "Does something smell like it's burning?"
You really do not want to be in this situation. If something smells like it's burning, you could very well be either completely devoid of any nasal capability whatsoever, or near to burning down your building, both of which aren't exactly good things. When asked this, I would check your extension cords (which are illegal in my dorm, so I don't have any, even though I do have a waffle maker and duct tape) or your power strips, or maybe the back of your minifridge that your roommate's father suggested that you put up on a stand so it doesn't overheat. (Note: put minifridges on stands so they do not overheat.) That way you can avoid having to awkwardly reposition your roommate's dresser to the center of the room and place the defective appliance on top of it. This disaster of residential design is now lovingly referred to as our "food shrine."
2. "So are you the triplet?"
First of all... I will point out that the twins in this situation are fraternal in the first place, so it's not actually a COMPLETELY stupid question, except that I look nothing like either of them and am about two feet shorter. I also will point out that I wasn't exactly asked this question in the above wording; it was actually just assumed, which makes it even worse. It also made me very sad that I am not a triplet because being a triplet makes you way cooler than you actually are, and that way I might be doing something more interesting than this. So you can blame my parents.
3. "...are you from Washington?"
That in and of itself is a very awkward question. I have nothing against those who reside in the Pacific Northwest; however, putting that one out there means that you either are in possession of a completely absurd stereotype or are psychic, but you're probably just a stalker. The situation actually worked out to the two having a mutual friend that had tried to introduce them but it hadn't worked but the one asking the question had recognized him from a picture and he fell to his knees in shock and everyone thought they were getting married. Which brings me to the next question...
4. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Funny story: I have NOTHING against dating. If you are in orientation and are reading this hatefully because you have just found true love forever and ever till death do you part and I hope it comes quickly, fantastic. I am SO beyond happy for you. But what is NOT a good idea is asking this question in a hypothetical situation where someone is standing right there and only hears THAT part of the conversation. ("Movin' pretty fast, aren't you, buddy?")
5. "Is your name ______?"
First of all, that means you aren't sure, and that makes you inconsiderate. Secondly, it means you weren't really paying attention when they told you, and that makes you inconsiderate. Third, if you are wrong, it means you have met other people who are more important to you, and that makes you inconsiderate. Fourthly, if you get it right, and then they get it wrong, it makes them feel inconsiderate. Last, if you just get it right in the first place, you might just be creepin', and that makes you VERY inconsiderate. Either way, now you have no friends.
6. "How do you transpose bass clef up an octave?"
This is actually only a bad question if you are a woman who is trying to sing a song in bass clef without studying it or having a wide knowledge of transposition, and you might have to sing very very low and abandon some of your femininity at the same time.
I'm sorry if you nonmusical individuals were confused by this question. Now you know what it's like to be an outsider, too.
Fun fact! Man choir's Tenor 1's sing in the same range as woman choir's Alto 2's! Probably higher! Yay!
7. "What's wrong?"
"I won't see my parents until Christmas."
"My books cost me all my allowance since fifth grade."
"My laptop was stolen."
"Someone just stepped on my foot."
"My roommate is a delusional psychopath that is stealing my life."
Just...don't ask that question.
Other than that though, stuff is fine. Lots of people keep asking me what I'm doing at orientation, and whether or not college is everything I hoped and dreamed, and if I'm worried about my classes, and what I plan on eating for lunch in the caf tomorrow, and quite honestly, I would begin to refrain from that kind of intense questioning, because I'm on the verge of becoming violent. Just kidding!
But seriously.
As annoying as those questions are, however, I've found that those are in some cases not bad conversation topics at all, because it means that everything is going normally. Those are normal questions. And you get asked them by everyone around you, because they expect you to be a normal individual. Unfortunately, there are a few questions that, as I've noticed, have a little more consequence than the aforementioned. And since I've been here for a week and have had such vast intellectual experiences, I thought I would list some interrogatory comments that you MAYBE want to avoid being asked (or asking, for that matter) within your first few days of undergraduate schooling. Seven, one for each day of the week.
Disclaimer: Not all of these questions have been directed at me. One was directed at someone I was standing next to.
1. "Does something smell like it's burning?"
You really do not want to be in this situation. If something smells like it's burning, you could very well be either completely devoid of any nasal capability whatsoever, or near to burning down your building, both of which aren't exactly good things. When asked this, I would check your extension cords (which are illegal in my dorm, so I don't have any, even though I do have a waffle maker and duct tape) or your power strips, or maybe the back of your minifridge that your roommate's father suggested that you put up on a stand so it doesn't overheat. (Note: put minifridges on stands so they do not overheat.) That way you can avoid having to awkwardly reposition your roommate's dresser to the center of the room and place the defective appliance on top of it. This disaster of residential design is now lovingly referred to as our "food shrine."
2. "So are you the triplet?"
First of all... I will point out that the twins in this situation are fraternal in the first place, so it's not actually a COMPLETELY stupid question, except that I look nothing like either of them and am about two feet shorter. I also will point out that I wasn't exactly asked this question in the above wording; it was actually just assumed, which makes it even worse. It also made me very sad that I am not a triplet because being a triplet makes you way cooler than you actually are, and that way I might be doing something more interesting than this. So you can blame my parents.
3. "...are you from Washington?"
That in and of itself is a very awkward question. I have nothing against those who reside in the Pacific Northwest; however, putting that one out there means that you either are in possession of a completely absurd stereotype or are psychic, but you're probably just a stalker. The situation actually worked out to the two having a mutual friend that had tried to introduce them but it hadn't worked but the one asking the question had recognized him from a picture and he fell to his knees in shock and everyone thought they were getting married. Which brings me to the next question...
4. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Funny story: I have NOTHING against dating. If you are in orientation and are reading this hatefully because you have just found true love forever and ever till death do you part and I hope it comes quickly, fantastic. I am SO beyond happy for you. But what is NOT a good idea is asking this question in a hypothetical situation where someone is standing right there and only hears THAT part of the conversation. ("Movin' pretty fast, aren't you, buddy?")
5. "Is your name ______?"
First of all, that means you aren't sure, and that makes you inconsiderate. Secondly, it means you weren't really paying attention when they told you, and that makes you inconsiderate. Third, if you are wrong, it means you have met other people who are more important to you, and that makes you inconsiderate. Fourthly, if you get it right, and then they get it wrong, it makes them feel inconsiderate. Last, if you just get it right in the first place, you might just be creepin', and that makes you VERY inconsiderate. Either way, now you have no friends.
6. "How do you transpose bass clef up an octave?"
This is actually only a bad question if you are a woman who is trying to sing a song in bass clef without studying it or having a wide knowledge of transposition, and you might have to sing very very low and abandon some of your femininity at the same time.
I'm sorry if you nonmusical individuals were confused by this question. Now you know what it's like to be an outsider, too.
Fun fact! Man choir's Tenor 1's sing in the same range as woman choir's Alto 2's! Probably higher! Yay!
7. "What's wrong?"
"I won't see my parents until Christmas."
"My books cost me all my allowance since fifth grade."
"My laptop was stolen."
"Someone just stepped on my foot."
"My roommate is a delusional psychopath that is stealing my life."
Just...don't ask that question.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Haikollege.
This is the epic tale of how I coped with the fact that I would be doing my own laundry in college, in the form of ancient Chinese poetry. I hope you don't vomit.
I'm disappointed.
Laundry is no longer free
Darn stupid college.
I am in charge now.
I must wash ALL my clothing.
Darn STUPID college.
My mother and I
Embarked on a long journey
To procure supplies.
I am italics.
My mother has quotations.
I hope you get it.
--
No! Please no laundry!
I cannot pay for laundry!
I am far too poor!
"Fabric softener,
Detergent, stain remover..."
I do not like this.
Can't I use Febreze?
At least I will not smell bad!
"That is disgusting."
Now I had to pay,
Although I had no money.
I began to search.
Hmm...a stray quarter...
Can I have this for college?
I could wash...a sock.
Another quarter...
I could always just take it...
Daddy won't miss it.
"Here is some change, dear.
We saved it all in a jar,
Over twenty years..."
Sometimes my mother
Forgets important things, like
MASSIVE JARS OF CASH.
This jar was so big
That we could not carry it.
AND WE STILL HAD MORE.
Many hours later,
We had found many coin jars,
And snatched their silver.
Then Mom thought of one
That Dad had in his sock drawer.
We captured that too.
Unfortunately,
The jar had grown quite heavy.
Yet we plodded on.
It was very hard
To bring the coin jar upstairs,
And I almost died.
I apologize
For how very sucky these
Verses are getting.
Mommy thought deeply.
"I want to know the value.
Dump out the coin jar."
Why do we need to?
"For curiosity's sake."
Well that's annoying.
So we counted them,
All of those stupid quarters.
I was quite angered.
"Please! Let's just count them...................
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DOLLARS.
Man, we are LOADED."
Now I am happy.
I can do all my laundry!
Well. If I have time.
I'm disappointed.
Laundry is no longer free
Darn stupid college.
I am in charge now.
I must wash ALL my clothing.
Darn STUPID college.
My mother and I
Embarked on a long journey
To procure supplies.
I am italics.
My mother has quotations.
I hope you get it.
--
No! Please no laundry!
I cannot pay for laundry!
I am far too poor!
"Fabric softener,
Detergent, stain remover..."
I do not like this.
Can't I use Febreze?
At least I will not smell bad!
"That is disgusting."
Now I had to pay,
Although I had no money.
I began to search.
Hmm...a stray quarter...
Can I have this for college?
I could wash...a sock.
Another quarter...
I could always just take it...
Daddy won't miss it.
"Here is some change, dear.
We saved it all in a jar,
Over twenty years..."
Sometimes my mother
Forgets important things, like
MASSIVE JARS OF CASH.
This jar was so big
That we could not carry it.
AND WE STILL HAD MORE.
Many hours later,
We had found many coin jars,
And snatched their silver.
Then Mom thought of one
That Dad had in his sock drawer.
We captured that too.
Unfortunately,
The jar had grown quite heavy.
Yet we plodded on.
It was very hard
To bring the coin jar upstairs,
And I almost died.
I apologize
For how very sucky these
Verses are getting.
Mommy thought deeply.
"I want to know the value.
Dump out the coin jar."
Why do we need to?
"For curiosity's sake."
Well that's annoying.
So we counted them,
All of those stupid quarters.
I was quite angered.
"Please! Let's just count them...................
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DOLLARS.
Man, we are LOADED."
Now I am happy.
I can do all my laundry!
Well. If I have time.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Little quicky baby post.
This really actually isn't anything very long and exciting, but I found it humorous, so I thought I would share it with you, because I love you guys that much.
Or because I'm rabidly desperate for attention. You decide.
If any of you have ever used Google Translate, you are probably aware that although it is a highly useful tool, especially if you feel like cheating on your Spanish project, it is not exactly foolproof, because (A) not all phrases/words fit together the same way as in other languages and (B) you have no way to tell what you're actually saying... otherwise you wouldn't be using the program.
One of the things I enjoy doing at my friend's house when she is out of food is translating things into another language and then back into English. Surprise surprise... it doesn't come out the same.
I will give her credit for this discovery.
For example. I chose to use, in this case, the pledge of allegiance, but if you want to make things even more complex, you should use a longer piece of historic American documentation or something by Lady Gaga.
Now translate it. Do not ask me why... but Japanese works best.
Now translate it back.
The end. Have a nice day.
Or because I'm rabidly desperate for attention. You decide.
If any of you have ever used Google Translate, you are probably aware that although it is a highly useful tool, especially if you feel like cheating on your Spanish project, it is not exactly foolproof, because (A) not all phrases/words fit together the same way as in other languages and (B) you have no way to tell what you're actually saying... otherwise you wouldn't be using the program.
One of the things I enjoy doing at my friend's house when she is out of food is translating things into another language and then back into English. Surprise surprise... it doesn't come out the same.
I will give her credit for this discovery.
For example. I chose to use, in this case, the pledge of allegiance, but if you want to make things even more complex, you should use a longer piece of historic American documentation or something by Lady Gaga.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
Now translate it. Do not ask me why... but Japanese works best.
"私はアメリカ合衆国の国旗に、そしてそれはすべてのために自由と正義と、不可分の、神の下、一国の略のための共和国に忠誠を誓う."
Now translate it back.
"I have the national flag of the United States, and it is with liberty and justice for all, indivisible, under God, loyalty to the republic for almost a country."Try throwing that one at your teacher in fourth grade history.
The end. Have a nice day.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
How to create a successful Facebook status.
Now. I know what some of you are thinking. Let me assure you, you did not leave the oven on, or your local fire department would have called by now.
Also, yes, this post is for real.
Facebook is a very unique and efficient social tool that doubles as a stalker-enabler. Many people have it on their phones, some have it constantly open on a tab while they use their laptops, and almost everyone has, at one point, regretted that they explained how to use it to their parents. But regardless of the available method of employment or who employs the available method of employment, everyone uses it for the same things: looking at pictures, inviting people to fiestas, wishing a happy birthday to their acquaintances, perusing through the pages of the guys they like to make sure no hookers were posting on them, and updating statuses. The first four activities require little to no effort or explanation. However, thanks to the invention of the "like" button, statuses and even comments are now under constant scrutinization of the public, and the amount of feedback on each one can make or break a social life.
I'm dead serious.
So for those of you whose personal opinions and ideas have been lacking a little "umph" lately, I have created a ridiculously brief but completely free tutorial that will add a little pizazz to your pages.
I also refuse to be held liable.
1. You won't get a lot of feedback if you don't have a lot of friends.
This is kind of a ditzy high schooler rule (I can say that without scruple as I am now a collegiate), but let's face it: if no one likes you, no one's going to say anything about whether or not you just won the Nobel Peace Prize. If everyone likes you and you have Mexican food for lunch, you can easily create an entourage. Those in the first category must make friends. The second must make tacos. Of course, you may be kind of in the middle, and possibly have a few friends who really like you but also a couple who are super flaky and play favorites and don't actually care about your personal life and talk about your secrets and stab you in the back to get where they want in life not like that ever happened to me or anything. In that case, you have potential. Proceed to step two.
2. You can always count on the pity vote. No wait; you can't.
Pity statuses, or the kinds of statements that people post because they don't want to go to therapy, are often a ticket to sympathy land and comment heaven. Unfortunately, lots of us like to keep it vague, to keep their friends asking (that's another trick I'll discuss momentarily). This may work, but real sympathy will come from an unexpected, awful event. You should make some happen, but remember, ONLY IN MODERATION. Add some sad faces to make it more believable.
BAD EXAMPLE
Joe: Boy, my life sucks for the third time this week.
GOOD EXAMPLE
Shaniqua: My baby goldfish just caught on fire! :(
3. Vague might keep them guessing.
It is possible that this approach will only infuriate everyone you know, but in some cases, especially if you hint that it's a really big deal or sound intriguingly mysterious, it might be just the ticket. Keep in mind, we live in a culture that wants to be pleased immediately and insatiably, so you have to sound like you're really in the know about something big.
BAD EXAMPLE
Bob: That was weird.
GOOD EXAMPLE
Bob: Oh... so THAT'S where the next horcrux is.
4. Start a debate.
People like to debate and shove their great ideas up everyone's noses. What better place to do it than where you happen to be already, and have been every second of every day since you were in eighth grade!
On a side note. You can be as risky as you wish (it's your social life at stake, not mine), but if you choose to be an adventure seeker, be prepared for people to mortally hate you.
AVERAGE EXAMPLE
Joe: I think our President is incompetent.
RISKY EXAMPLE
Shaniqua: Brenda is a slut.
We interrupt this message to bring you a more urgent one: if you are my neighbor, please turn your car alarm off, or I will come over there and smash in your headlights. Thank you.
5. What do you think...
Surveys, without a doubt, are highly effective, but they are the cheap thrills of internet popularity. If you truly are desperate, often a quick inquiry about a favorite brand or flavor or species can get your self-esteem back up and running. Now, as with any of the above tips, this comes with risks: obviously there are some questions that should be off-limits based on the fact that there are CHILDREN WHO CAN READ THIS, but there are also questions that just make the situation more awkward than it was before. And no one likes internet awkwardness.
HALFWAY DECENT EXAMPLE
Joe: If you could be any kind of flightless bird, what would you be? (obviously a penguin)
AWKWARD TURTLE EXAMPLE
Bob: Does anyone else find the smell of Bleu Cheese as delicately appealing as I do?
6. Fun with controversy.
Oftentimes you can get a lot of people interested in what's going on when you say something unusually offensive. The shock value of a status, however, depends on the key word "unusually." "@#$% MY LIFE" would probably get a little more feedback if it wasn't preceded by "%^&* MY CAR" or "&^#! THE GOVERNMENT" or "*$%@ MY PUFFERFISH THAT JUST DIED." If your typical route is making rude comments or using PG-13 language or calling Brenda a slut, lay off it and post something happy. The relief of your friends might inspire them to comment a whole lot more in an effort to convince you that you should turn over a new, more uplifting leaf.
7. Laughter is a good thing.
Being funny is basically the best way to get any kind of appreciation nowadays. If something funny happens, tell people. If something boring happens, tell it in a way that makes it sound like it was funny. Sooner or later, your life will become an endless hunt for hidden ironies that will eventually drive you to madness, but people will find you quite entertaining. At least for a little while.
8. People often "like" an inspirational quote about life or overcoming some difficulty or that maybe insults the incompetencies of a man's sandwich making abilities.
Hopefully this is self-explanatory.
9. Good things happen to those who post about them.
People tend to click "like" when they like something... and if something good happens, they tend to like that too! It does get cheesy when people make long lists and finish it off with a "Today was a good day." Those don't work unless you were proposed to in the middle of your inauguration on a cruise ship going to the tropical island that you won in a commercial drawing, because that is a pretty good day. But unfortunately, that isn't a regular occurrence. And besides, you really only need one thing to write about at a time. My suggestion? Go do something exciting or fun! Have an adventure! Make a difference! Save a cat!
Unfortunately, for most of you, this tip is useless, seeing as in order to do something worth talking about, you probably would have to get off of the computer.
Also, yes, this post is for real.
Facebook is a very unique and efficient social tool that doubles as a stalker-enabler. Many people have it on their phones, some have it constantly open on a tab while they use their laptops, and almost everyone has, at one point, regretted that they explained how to use it to their parents. But regardless of the available method of employment or who employs the available method of employment, everyone uses it for the same things: looking at pictures, inviting people to fiestas, wishing a happy birthday to their acquaintances, perusing through the pages of the guys they like to make sure no hookers were posting on them, and updating statuses. The first four activities require little to no effort or explanation. However, thanks to the invention of the "like" button, statuses and even comments are now under constant scrutinization of the public, and the amount of feedback on each one can make or break a social life.
I'm dead serious.
So for those of you whose personal opinions and ideas have been lacking a little "umph" lately, I have created a ridiculously brief but completely free tutorial that will add a little pizazz to your pages.
I also refuse to be held liable.
1. You won't get a lot of feedback if you don't have a lot of friends.
This is kind of a ditzy high schooler rule (I can say that without scruple as I am now a collegiate), but let's face it: if no one likes you, no one's going to say anything about whether or not you just won the Nobel Peace Prize. If everyone likes you and you have Mexican food for lunch, you can easily create an entourage. Those in the first category must make friends. The second must make tacos. Of course, you may be kind of in the middle, and possibly have a few friends who really like you but also a couple who are super flaky and play favorites and don't actually care about your personal life and talk about your secrets and stab you in the back to get where they want in life not like that ever happened to me or anything. In that case, you have potential. Proceed to step two.
2. You can always count on the pity vote. No wait; you can't.
Pity statuses, or the kinds of statements that people post because they don't want to go to therapy, are often a ticket to sympathy land and comment heaven. Unfortunately, lots of us like to keep it vague, to keep their friends asking (that's another trick I'll discuss momentarily). This may work, but real sympathy will come from an unexpected, awful event. You should make some happen, but remember, ONLY IN MODERATION. Add some sad faces to make it more believable.
BAD EXAMPLE
Joe: Boy, my life sucks for the third time this week.
GOOD EXAMPLE
Shaniqua: My baby goldfish just caught on fire! :(
3. Vague might keep them guessing.
It is possible that this approach will only infuriate everyone you know, but in some cases, especially if you hint that it's a really big deal or sound intriguingly mysterious, it might be just the ticket. Keep in mind, we live in a culture that wants to be pleased immediately and insatiably, so you have to sound like you're really in the know about something big.
BAD EXAMPLE
Bob: That was weird.
GOOD EXAMPLE
Bob: Oh... so THAT'S where the next horcrux is.
4. Start a debate.
People like to debate and shove their great ideas up everyone's noses. What better place to do it than where you happen to be already, and have been every second of every day since you were in eighth grade!
On a side note. You can be as risky as you wish (it's your social life at stake, not mine), but if you choose to be an adventure seeker, be prepared for people to mortally hate you.
AVERAGE EXAMPLE
Joe: I think our President is incompetent.
RISKY EXAMPLE
Shaniqua: Brenda is a slut.
We interrupt this message to bring you a more urgent one: if you are my neighbor, please turn your car alarm off, or I will come over there and smash in your headlights. Thank you.
5. What do you think...
Surveys, without a doubt, are highly effective, but they are the cheap thrills of internet popularity. If you truly are desperate, often a quick inquiry about a favorite brand or flavor or species can get your self-esteem back up and running. Now, as with any of the above tips, this comes with risks: obviously there are some questions that should be off-limits based on the fact that there are CHILDREN WHO CAN READ THIS, but there are also questions that just make the situation more awkward than it was before. And no one likes internet awkwardness.
HALFWAY DECENT EXAMPLE
Joe: If you could be any kind of flightless bird, what would you be? (obviously a penguin)
AWKWARD TURTLE EXAMPLE
Bob: Does anyone else find the smell of Bleu Cheese as delicately appealing as I do?
6. Fun with controversy.
Oftentimes you can get a lot of people interested in what's going on when you say something unusually offensive. The shock value of a status, however, depends on the key word "unusually." "@#$% MY LIFE" would probably get a little more feedback if it wasn't preceded by "%^&* MY CAR" or "&^#! THE GOVERNMENT" or "*$%@ MY PUFFERFISH THAT JUST DIED." If your typical route is making rude comments or using PG-13 language or calling Brenda a slut, lay off it and post something happy. The relief of your friends might inspire them to comment a whole lot more in an effort to convince you that you should turn over a new, more uplifting leaf.
7. Laughter is a good thing.
Being funny is basically the best way to get any kind of appreciation nowadays. If something funny happens, tell people. If something boring happens, tell it in a way that makes it sound like it was funny. Sooner or later, your life will become an endless hunt for hidden ironies that will eventually drive you to madness, but people will find you quite entertaining. At least for a little while.
8. People often "like" an inspirational quote about life or overcoming some difficulty or that maybe insults the incompetencies of a man's sandwich making abilities.
Hopefully this is self-explanatory.
9. Good things happen to those who post about them.
People tend to click "like" when they like something... and if something good happens, they tend to like that too! It does get cheesy when people make long lists and finish it off with a "Today was a good day." Those don't work unless you were proposed to in the middle of your inauguration on a cruise ship going to the tropical island that you won in a commercial drawing, because that is a pretty good day. But unfortunately, that isn't a regular occurrence. And besides, you really only need one thing to write about at a time. My suggestion? Go do something exciting or fun! Have an adventure! Make a difference! Save a cat!
Unfortunately, for most of you, this tip is useless, seeing as in order to do something worth talking about, you probably would have to get off of the computer.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The irony of it is, I wrote this during a church service
Since I was very young, I've been a part of a church. I've gotten a lot of different perspectives on the ways things work, and I've been at a lot of services. Overall, it's been a great journey, meeting different people and living different places and understanding different things. However, regardless of the churches I've visited, or the topics I've studied, I noticed something that is the same, regardless of the church or its standards.
The distractions.
EVERY TIME. Not to say that I'm easily distracted, but...
Actually that's exactly what I'm saying. Hmm.
I have compiled a list of the top ten most distracting things in church. For the record, these are mostly in my experience, and if you have ever had some major malfunction that completely threw everything off then...that's cool.
Some close runners up were suddenly feeling itchy, sirens going past on the street, earthquakes, hay fever, going into labor, and wondering if you left the oven on. I chose not to include them because I had better explanations for the other ones.
Semi-related side story #1: Once in my yearbook class, I confessed that the time when I came up for the designs for the majority of my pages was during sermons. The supervisor being a Bible teacher, I expected him to be surprised and/or disappointed.
He told me that's when he had written most of his football plays.
I thought that was funny.
THE TOP TEN MOST DISTRACTING THINGS IN A CHURCH SERVICE:
10. Breath mints.
Okay. I know this is random. My family has this odd practice of bringing mints for us to partake during the sermon when we need to ease our growling stomachs or halitosis (look it up). We prefer the Altoids brand because they're so strong (the advertisements are NOT lying) that you really can't have that many without your tongue falling off, so they last a while. Unfortunately, if you've already had one, and maybe you bit into it and the dust spilled all over your tongue and you started sweating a lot as you could feel the hole in the roof of your mouth getting bigger, it gets difficult to focus on what anyone is saying or praying or whether or not you still have feeling in your face.
9. Pastors.
One of the strangest facts of life is that sometimes the best distractions are the things you're trying to focus on. I have a really good pastor, but every now and again, he lets slip a mispronunciation or a couple of odd phrases. My favorite story is during one of his sermons, when instead of telling the story of Jesus going to Perea (which is in Israel), he read that Jesus went to Peoria (which is in Illinois).
But that doesn't happen often.
8. Weather.
If it's super hot, you know it. If it's super cold, you know it. If it starts raining outside, you know it. And you hate it. That's just how it is, and sometimes you can just move on with your life and sometimes you will just go completely bonkers. I suggest bringing a big bag with an emergency sweater, electric fan, and raincoat, just in case. Because that won't distract anyone else.
7. Trains.
Have you ever just been sitting in church when a random train chugs past and blows its whistle? Yeah. Crazy.
6. Sleepiness.
I'm sure you understand this, especially if your church has comfy chairs. So I won't go into detail.
Semi-related side story #2:
So you know the Puritans, right? ("Puritan" is synonymous with the phrase "super intense people, probably named John, who might show up on your AP US History Document Based Question essay.") When they went to church, the ushers had these sticks with a feather on the end that they would use to tickle the people who went to sleep and wake them up again. Not that bad, until you realize that the other side was a club and the dudes who fell asleep twice would get a nice fat whack on the cabeza.
5. Siblings.
I have two brothers who never completely agree on anything. Sometimes they poke each other incessantly, sometimes they nap right next to you and make your shoulder go to sleep, sometimes they draw pictures of you, and sometimes they eat too many Altoids and you have to resuscitate them. You have to constantly be alert, and that can distract you from...um...being alert.
4. Phones vibrating.
Don't act like it's never happened to you. This is usually what happens to me:
*zzzzzzt*
That's my phone! I wonder who it is! No I shouldn't check my phone. I'll look after the service.
*pause*
What if it's...no he wouldn't text me.
Would he? Maybe he would.
No. He didn't text you. Stop thinking he would text you.
Deborah's looking at me weird... Great. She can see me blushing.
Great.
It's not him I'll just check it later.
It's not him I'll just check it later.
It's not like it hasn't happened before...
It's not him I'll just check it later.
*pause*Okay, well it's not like I'll be able to focus on the sermon unless I check. It's justified.
*click click clickety click*
Deborah: Hey girl did you realize that you were supposed to be in the nursery today?
3. Birds.
I went to a high school full of birds, so dive-bombing sparrows in the sanctuary probably wouldn't be all that distracting. What's weird is when they just walk in, strutting like they own the place, and bring all their friends to congregate under the pew next to you. It's quite amusing. They look like a little mafia of bobbleheads.
2. Beats me. I needed a list of ten.
AND THE WINNER FOR MOST DISTRACTING ELEMENT IN CHURCH EVER EVER EVER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS...
1. Babies.
Let's be honest, they're kind of the cutest things ever, and when a chubby little bald person is staring at you from two rows in front of you like you're the Jolly Green Giant, you stare back and make faces. And when they sit across from you and stare at you, you stare back and make faces. And when they make faces back at you, your brother notices and starts making faces at them, and then the baby is staring at both of you and making faces and laughing at yours, and then you all look stupid except the baby who still looks adorable, and then church is over.
The end.
The distractions.
EVERY TIME. Not to say that I'm easily distracted, but...
Actually that's exactly what I'm saying. Hmm.
I have compiled a list of the top ten most distracting things in church. For the record, these are mostly in my experience, and if you have ever had some major malfunction that completely threw everything off then...that's cool.
Some close runners up were suddenly feeling itchy, sirens going past on the street, earthquakes, hay fever, going into labor, and wondering if you left the oven on. I chose not to include them because I had better explanations for the other ones.
Semi-related side story #1: Once in my yearbook class, I confessed that the time when I came up for the designs for the majority of my pages was during sermons. The supervisor being a Bible teacher, I expected him to be surprised and/or disappointed.
He told me that's when he had written most of his football plays.
I thought that was funny.
THE TOP TEN MOST DISTRACTING THINGS IN A CHURCH SERVICE:
10. Breath mints.
Okay. I know this is random. My family has this odd practice of bringing mints for us to partake during the sermon when we need to ease our growling stomachs or halitosis (look it up). We prefer the Altoids brand because they're so strong (the advertisements are NOT lying) that you really can't have that many without your tongue falling off, so they last a while. Unfortunately, if you've already had one, and maybe you bit into it and the dust spilled all over your tongue and you started sweating a lot as you could feel the hole in the roof of your mouth getting bigger, it gets difficult to focus on what anyone is saying or praying or whether or not you still have feeling in your face.
9. Pastors.
One of the strangest facts of life is that sometimes the best distractions are the things you're trying to focus on. I have a really good pastor, but every now and again, he lets slip a mispronunciation or a couple of odd phrases. My favorite story is during one of his sermons, when instead of telling the story of Jesus going to Perea (which is in Israel), he read that Jesus went to Peoria (which is in Illinois).
But that doesn't happen often.
8. Weather.
If it's super hot, you know it. If it's super cold, you know it. If it starts raining outside, you know it. And you hate it. That's just how it is, and sometimes you can just move on with your life and sometimes you will just go completely bonkers. I suggest bringing a big bag with an emergency sweater, electric fan, and raincoat, just in case. Because that won't distract anyone else.
7. Trains.
Have you ever just been sitting in church when a random train chugs past and blows its whistle? Yeah. Crazy.
6. Sleepiness.
I'm sure you understand this, especially if your church has comfy chairs. So I won't go into detail.
Semi-related side story #2:
So you know the Puritans, right? ("Puritan" is synonymous with the phrase "super intense people, probably named John, who might show up on your AP US History Document Based Question essay.") When they went to church, the ushers had these sticks with a feather on the end that they would use to tickle the people who went to sleep and wake them up again. Not that bad, until you realize that the other side was a club and the dudes who fell asleep twice would get a nice fat whack on the cabeza.
5. Siblings.
I have two brothers who never completely agree on anything. Sometimes they poke each other incessantly, sometimes they nap right next to you and make your shoulder go to sleep, sometimes they draw pictures of you, and sometimes they eat too many Altoids and you have to resuscitate them. You have to constantly be alert, and that can distract you from...um...being alert.
4. Phones vibrating.
Don't act like it's never happened to you. This is usually what happens to me:
*zzzzzzt*
That's my phone! I wonder who it is! No I shouldn't check my phone. I'll look after the service.
*pause*
What if it's...no he wouldn't text me.
Would he? Maybe he would.
No. He didn't text you. Stop thinking he would text you.
Deborah's looking at me weird... Great. She can see me blushing.
Great.
It's not him I'll just check it later.
It's not him I'll just check it later.
It's not like it hasn't happened before...
It's not him I'll just check it later.
*pause*Okay, well it's not like I'll be able to focus on the sermon unless I check. It's justified.
*click click clickety click*
Deborah: Hey girl did you realize that you were supposed to be in the nursery today?
3. Birds.
I went to a high school full of birds, so dive-bombing sparrows in the sanctuary probably wouldn't be all that distracting. What's weird is when they just walk in, strutting like they own the place, and bring all their friends to congregate under the pew next to you. It's quite amusing. They look like a little mafia of bobbleheads.
2. Beats me. I needed a list of ten.
AND THE WINNER FOR MOST DISTRACTING ELEMENT IN CHURCH EVER EVER EVER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS...
1. Babies.
Let's be honest, they're kind of the cutest things ever, and when a chubby little bald person is staring at you from two rows in front of you like you're the Jolly Green Giant, you stare back and make faces. And when they sit across from you and stare at you, you stare back and make faces. And when they make faces back at you, your brother notices and starts making faces at them, and then the baby is staring at both of you and making faces and laughing at yours, and then you all look stupid except the baby who still looks adorable, and then church is over.
The end.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Snorkel is a funny word.
It's not every day I have deep, meaningful thoughts about fish.
That in and of itself is probably a good thing.
I used to really really like fish. I still do, but then... I was actually kind of obsessed with fish. I wanted to be a scuba diving marine biologist and have a pet shark in my house when I grew up. I did two book reports (probably more, but for some reason I haven't been able to force these two out of my memory) on undersea life. During visits to beaches, I could occasionally spout out useful information about why it's dangerous to step on sea urchins (because they're pointy). When I was even younger, I got a fish tank starter kit with a little brochure of the different kinds of freshwater fish that I could purchase, and I read it, multiple times a day, so I could plan out exactly which of the little creatures would get along.
...yeah.
Anywho. One day during a manatee special on National Geographic, I figured that marine biology might be a decent career for me, seeing as I waste all this time learning about these things anyway, I mean, might as well get paid for it. And that became my plan, and I was going to work at Sea World, and my future looked peachy. Sadly, one day I went snorkeling, kind of maybe had a minor panic attack-type occurence, and decided if I couldn't look at the fishies in their natural habitat, then I should maybe do something different.
I have recently gotten over my fear of snorkelling (today), and as a strictly unscientific observer, I have noticed a few things about fish that rather intrigue me.
Actually they're not that cool, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
First and foremost, fish are flippin' boring. And don't just say that's my "personal opinion." I followed the same fish around today for a few minutes, to see if it would wig out like people do, and it literally just swam around in a circle, nibbling off the same blotch of algae, and swimming away again, in the same circle, unaware of the mounting criticism behind him.
La de dahh, I'm a fish... Oh look there's that rock again! Hey! It tastes the same as it did two minutes ago! I think I'll swim around for sheer joy of the prospect! La la la la la laahhh...
Secondly, no one really gets excited about the brown fish. I feel sort of bad for them until the yellow ones swim by and distract me, because it's not like they do anything different (other than maybe swimming in a straight line). But all of the conservation laws revolve around the pretty fish, because the pretty fish are the ones that everyone wants to keep around! If you caught a pretty fish, you probably would throw it back and talk to your kids about how important it is to leave a good impact on the wilderness, but you catch a brown fish? Om nom nom.
Look at all those stupid orange fish. They think they're so hot. It's just like high school all over again.
Get it? School?
Thirdly, I might as well say it... Parrot fish look nothing like parrots.
We got back your name results. They've decided on "parrot fish."
What the heck is a parrot?
A large, tropical bird.
Uhh...
*awkward pause*
Better than "sea cucumber."
Touché.
Lastly. Have you noticed that the appreciation levels of fish are directly correlated not only to their colors, but to their appearance in the media? For example. Dolphins. Dolphins are friendly and cute. Dolphins are also posted all over T-Shirts and souvenirs and their own little TV shows (not that I would ever hate on Flipper). The result? People flip out over dolphins. Other forms of porpoise? Not so much.
What it should be: "DAD!! DAD!!! LOOK!!! It's a Zanclus comutus, more commonly known as a Moorish Idol, which is indigenous to tropical reefs such as this one!!"
What it really is: "DAD!!! DAAAD!!! LOOK!!!!! IT'S GILL FROM FINDING NEMO!!!!!"
So I wrote this whole thing out and then realized what I was having for dinner.
FISH STICKS.
That in and of itself is probably a good thing.
I used to really really like fish. I still do, but then... I was actually kind of obsessed with fish. I wanted to be a scuba diving marine biologist and have a pet shark in my house when I grew up. I did two book reports (probably more, but for some reason I haven't been able to force these two out of my memory) on undersea life. During visits to beaches, I could occasionally spout out useful information about why it's dangerous to step on sea urchins (because they're pointy). When I was even younger, I got a fish tank starter kit with a little brochure of the different kinds of freshwater fish that I could purchase, and I read it, multiple times a day, so I could plan out exactly which of the little creatures would get along.
...yeah.
Anywho. One day during a manatee special on National Geographic, I figured that marine biology might be a decent career for me, seeing as I waste all this time learning about these things anyway, I mean, might as well get paid for it. And that became my plan, and I was going to work at Sea World, and my future looked peachy. Sadly, one day I went snorkeling, kind of maybe had a minor panic attack-type occurence, and decided if I couldn't look at the fishies in their natural habitat, then I should maybe do something different.
I have recently gotten over my fear of snorkelling (today), and as a strictly unscientific observer, I have noticed a few things about fish that rather intrigue me.
Actually they're not that cool, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
First and foremost, fish are flippin' boring. And don't just say that's my "personal opinion." I followed the same fish around today for a few minutes, to see if it would wig out like people do, and it literally just swam around in a circle, nibbling off the same blotch of algae, and swimming away again, in the same circle, unaware of the mounting criticism behind him.
La de dahh, I'm a fish... Oh look there's that rock again! Hey! It tastes the same as it did two minutes ago! I think I'll swim around for sheer joy of the prospect! La la la la la laahhh...
Secondly, no one really gets excited about the brown fish. I feel sort of bad for them until the yellow ones swim by and distract me, because it's not like they do anything different (other than maybe swimming in a straight line). But all of the conservation laws revolve around the pretty fish, because the pretty fish are the ones that everyone wants to keep around! If you caught a pretty fish, you probably would throw it back and talk to your kids about how important it is to leave a good impact on the wilderness, but you catch a brown fish? Om nom nom.
Look at all those stupid orange fish. They think they're so hot. It's just like high school all over again.
Get it? School?
Thirdly, I might as well say it... Parrot fish look nothing like parrots.
We got back your name results. They've decided on "parrot fish."
What the heck is a parrot?
A large, tropical bird.
Uhh...
*awkward pause*
Better than "sea cucumber."
Touché.
Lastly. Have you noticed that the appreciation levels of fish are directly correlated not only to their colors, but to their appearance in the media? For example. Dolphins. Dolphins are friendly and cute. Dolphins are also posted all over T-Shirts and souvenirs and their own little TV shows (not that I would ever hate on Flipper). The result? People flip out over dolphins. Other forms of porpoise? Not so much.
What it should be: "DAD!! DAD!!! LOOK!!! It's a Zanclus comutus, more commonly known as a Moorish Idol, which is indigenous to tropical reefs such as this one!!"
What it really is: "DAD!!! DAAAD!!! LOOK!!!!! IT'S GILL FROM FINDING NEMO!!!!!"
So I wrote this whole thing out and then realized what I was having for dinner.
FISH STICKS.
Family bonding is overrated.
Everyone has this really romanticized view of Hawaii. Apparently it's all flowers and beaches and peaceful natives with ukeleles, a perfect place for a honeymoon or vacation or just a break from everyday nonsense.
HA!
Okay. Hawaii's great, don't get me wrong, and I have seen lots of flowers and beaches and natives smoking illegal substances in front of the entire public with absolutely no shame, but just because you're going somewhere perfect doesn't mean your journey itself will be. I know this because my family is terrible at taking these kinds of expeditions.
Actually, we always have lots of fun on trips, but never for the reasons we should.
...let me explain.
First, I should probably make the statement that any vacation that starts off with spending $35 at McDonald's is probably destined for trouble. Sure enough, after a 5 hour plane ride in an exit row with my brother (only available to those 15 years of age or older because anyone younger would react immaturely to a seat that doesn't recline) (not that we didn't), we arrived in the Honolulu airport and promptly got lost in the parking lot. We were planning on borrowing a friend's car, which had been left in the structure with the keys ready to go (because theft is actually frowned upon in some states that aren't California!), but the elusive vehicle was nowhere to be found. So naturally, we did what any organized and well-prepared family would do: ride the same elevator up and down twenty times. Soon after, we conveniently noticed there was a bridge to another parking structure, where we eventually found the car, but not without disrupting a moving sidewalk like good little tourists (as if you haven't ever wanted to go the wrong way on those things).
The next step on our journey was to locate the residence in which we were staying, or in layman's terms, hit the "Go Home" button on the GPS. Out we went, chuckling at our silly mishaps and the pronunciation of the Hawaiian streets by the voice-over lady in the system.
Now might be a good time for me to explain that until recently, I was under the impression that the language of Hawaiian was actually invented as a joke by the natives who saw the American settlers coming, and that no one in their right mind would name a street Ahumaaaaunuuuenehaha or anything to that effect. But that is a very closed-minded statement that I probably shouldn't publish.
Anywho, apparently my comments must have angered the traffic gods of Hawaii, who have been hanging out under freeways since their volcanos went dormant, and about the time we crossed onto the Awanakanakna (?) highway, a demon entered our GPS. The route spastically recalculated itself, but we weren't too worried about our location, because if those ladies know when to turn right in Hawaii, they're never wrong.
Then we pulled into the naval base.
Technically, that wouldn't have been a problem unless it was trespassing on government property against armed men who sacrifice their time learning how to shoot people. Which is exactly what it was. But they seemed very understanding when they gave back our licenses.
Post the most awkward U-turn of my life, we hit "Go Home" again, but this time we went home, and after a few promising sightings of Taco Bell, we got some dinner which unfortunately was not Taco Bell, sat down for a relaxing evening, and disconnected their DVD player.
Moral of the story: never travel without your mother.
HA!
Okay. Hawaii's great, don't get me wrong, and I have seen lots of flowers and beaches and natives smoking illegal substances in front of the entire public with absolutely no shame, but just because you're going somewhere perfect doesn't mean your journey itself will be. I know this because my family is terrible at taking these kinds of expeditions.
Actually, we always have lots of fun on trips, but never for the reasons we should.
...let me explain.
First, I should probably make the statement that any vacation that starts off with spending $35 at McDonald's is probably destined for trouble. Sure enough, after a 5 hour plane ride in an exit row with my brother (only available to those 15 years of age or older because anyone younger would react immaturely to a seat that doesn't recline) (not that we didn't), we arrived in the Honolulu airport and promptly got lost in the parking lot. We were planning on borrowing a friend's car, which had been left in the structure with the keys ready to go (because theft is actually frowned upon in some states that aren't California!), but the elusive vehicle was nowhere to be found. So naturally, we did what any organized and well-prepared family would do: ride the same elevator up and down twenty times. Soon after, we conveniently noticed there was a bridge to another parking structure, where we eventually found the car, but not without disrupting a moving sidewalk like good little tourists (as if you haven't ever wanted to go the wrong way on those things).
The next step on our journey was to locate the residence in which we were staying, or in layman's terms, hit the "Go Home" button on the GPS. Out we went, chuckling at our silly mishaps and the pronunciation of the Hawaiian streets by the voice-over lady in the system.
Now might be a good time for me to explain that until recently, I was under the impression that the language of Hawaiian was actually invented as a joke by the natives who saw the American settlers coming, and that no one in their right mind would name a street Ahumaaaaunuuuenehaha or anything to that effect. But that is a very closed-minded statement that I probably shouldn't publish.
Anywho, apparently my comments must have angered the traffic gods of Hawaii, who have been hanging out under freeways since their volcanos went dormant, and about the time we crossed onto the Awanakanakna (?) highway, a demon entered our GPS. The route spastically recalculated itself, but we weren't too worried about our location, because if those ladies know when to turn right in Hawaii, they're never wrong.
Then we pulled into the naval base.
Technically, that wouldn't have been a problem unless it was trespassing on government property against armed men who sacrifice their time learning how to shoot people. Which is exactly what it was. But they seemed very understanding when they gave back our licenses.
Post the most awkward U-turn of my life, we hit "Go Home" again, but this time we went home, and after a few promising sightings of Taco Bell, we got some dinner which unfortunately was not Taco Bell, sat down for a relaxing evening, and disconnected their DVD player.
Moral of the story: never travel without your mother.
This is why I am a dog person.
So I'm sitting here at the computer, trying to find an idea for a new post. As I put my head in my hands and breathe deeply to calm the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy (actually I don't really care, but that sounded pretty cool), I smell a familiar sour tinge on my hands. It brings tears to my eyes to even consider what caused that familiar scent. Therefore, I recount to you the epic tail* of my day's journey. I must remind you that this story is not for the faint of heart, mind, or estomágo.
I was innocently minding my business all day. I had nothing to study for in economics or yearbook, and continued to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (by the way, if you tell me how it ends, you will come to know in a very real way the wrath of Vol... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named [see that? Nerd joke (don't be too upset if you don't understand [which basically means you're missing out on the greatest thing EVER (did you know these can just keep going and going as long as you alternate between brackets and parentheses? [I really want a gerbil!!!!])])]) during English. Then I went off campus with Zach and Christian to get a frosty for lunch and chatted with my friends about getting jobs at coffee places.
The End.
Just kidding.
Sad to say, my lovely bubble of solitary peace and joy and all that is good in the world found itself unceremoniously popped as I entered my final class of the day. On a table laid my assignment, as hopeless and gruesome as could be imagined. The orders were given:
"Skin the cat."
The poor dead creature lied paralyzed in its plastic bag, filled with the organs, dyes, and ethanol (the essence of nastiness in a preservative) that were trapped inside its body, mine for the taking if I could only make the cut*. Knowledge, triumph, and success, as it seems, pulsed through its veins, along with my potential anatomy grade. I looked deep into its shriveled eyes for any form of help. It continued to lie there, useless. Stupid cat. I took up the scalpel, donned my goggles and gloves, and proceeded with grim determination.
There comes a time in every person's life when they are faced with greatness if they only take up the courage to achieve it. I personally cannot wait until that day, because I feel like I have better things to do than sit around disembowelling dead animals. And besides, if I can skin a cat, I probably have no soul. That kind of concerns me.
SOME TIPS FOR THOSE FACING A SIMILAR EXPERIENCE IN THE NOT-TOO-DISTANT FUTURE:
*indicates a pun. Kudos if you caught it.
I was innocently minding my business all day. I had nothing to study for in economics or yearbook, and continued to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (by the way, if you tell me how it ends, you will come to know in a very real way the wrath of Vol... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named [see that? Nerd joke (don't be too upset if you don't understand [which basically means you're missing out on the greatest thing EVER (did you know these can just keep going and going as long as you alternate between brackets and parentheses? [I really want a gerbil!!!!])])]) during English. Then I went off campus with Zach and Christian to get a frosty for lunch and chatted with my friends about getting jobs at coffee places.
The End.
Just kidding.
Sad to say, my lovely bubble of solitary peace and joy and all that is good in the world found itself unceremoniously popped as I entered my final class of the day. On a table laid my assignment, as hopeless and gruesome as could be imagined. The orders were given:
"Skin the cat."
The poor dead creature lied paralyzed in its plastic bag, filled with the organs, dyes, and ethanol (the essence of nastiness in a preservative) that were trapped inside its body, mine for the taking if I could only make the cut*. Knowledge, triumph, and success, as it seems, pulsed through its veins, along with my potential anatomy grade. I looked deep into its shriveled eyes for any form of help. It continued to lie there, useless. Stupid cat. I took up the scalpel, donned my goggles and gloves, and proceeded with grim determination.
There comes a time in every person's life when they are faced with greatness if they only take up the courage to achieve it. I personally cannot wait until that day, because I feel like I have better things to do than sit around disembowelling dead animals. And besides, if I can skin a cat, I probably have no soul. That kind of concerns me.
-----------------
SOME TIPS FOR THOSE FACING A SIMILAR EXPERIENCE IN THE NOT-TOO-DISTANT FUTURE:
- Chew gum
- Wear gloves
- Wear goggles
- Don't like cats
- Don't take anatomy
*indicates a pun. Kudos if you caught it.
You're welcome, Rica.
The other day, I was making some brownies for a friend that I promised her a month ago, and as I was reading the instructions, I noticed that I was a complete idiot for not having them memorized already. I imagined all the scratch bakers in the world laughing as I looked at the little picture of eggs and the measurements of the water and oil, which, if you have not noticed, are probably the only ingredients besides the mystery powder that went into all of your birthday cakes. Mmmm. Either way, for some reason my mind was running rampant at the time, and I decided to interpret the back of the box into what I actually was thinking while I was cooking.
BROWNIES: (or so you think)
For fudgy brownies, which turn out the same way as the other kind but are undercooked, because let's face it, if you're making box brownies then you fail at life, you will need:
2 eggs. (see the pretty picture?)
1/4 cup water.
Be sure to not use the measuring cups that Dad used to garden.
1/2 cup oil.
The powder in the DON'T THROW IT AWAY box.
For cakelike brownies, you need a box of chocolate cake mix and the ingredients required therein.
Now you may move on to step two.
...step one.
STEP 1: Preheat oven to 350 degrees for glass or metal pans and 325 degrees for dark or nonstick pans. Yes, those pans are metal too. Just heat it to 325 to be safe.
Grease bottom of pan with shortening or cooking spray.
Go buy shortening because you don't have any.
Now grease it.
Good job.
STEP 2: Empty brownie mix, eggs (go back to the top and check how many), oil and water in a large bowl. No this isn't large enough. Start over.
Stir until you darn well feel like quitting.
Spread in greased pan, carefully hiding the powdery parts that you didn't mix well enough and bake immediately. Or when the oven finishes preheating. Oh wait. I haven't done that yet.
STEP 3: Lick spoon. Find smaller spoon and scrape chocolate off inside of bowl. Sneak bits of batter out of the pan. Waste half an hour eating batter.
STEP 4: Bake at the following times (I'm not typing this out because I sincerely doubt you care). Add 3-5 minutes for dark or non-stick pans. Oh crud, I forgot to grease it. Brownies are done when toothpick inserted blah blah blah blah comes out clean? What? Just like cake?
STEP 5: Wait for oven to finish preheating.
STEP 6: Finish anatomy homework.
STEP 7: YAY!! 325!!! Put it in and wait some more!!!
STEP 8: Remove brownies after you get sick of smelling their deliciousness, resist temptation to devour them on the spot, turn off oven so that you don't burn down your place of residence, and leave them out all night uncovered because, well, as I said, you're making box brownies. You're not the brightest cookie in the jar.
Uhh.
BROWNIES: (or so you think)
For fudgy brownies, which turn out the same way as the other kind but are undercooked, because let's face it, if you're making box brownies then you fail at life, you will need:
2 eggs. (see the pretty picture?)
1/4 cup water.
Be sure to not use the measuring cups that Dad used to garden.
1/2 cup oil.
The powder in the DON'T THROW IT AWAY box.
For cakelike brownies, you need a box of chocolate cake mix and the ingredients required therein.
Now you may move on to step two.
...step one.
STEP 1: Preheat oven to 350 degrees for glass or metal pans and 325 degrees for dark or nonstick pans. Yes, those pans are metal too. Just heat it to 325 to be safe.
Grease bottom of pan with shortening or cooking spray.
Go buy shortening because you don't have any.
Now grease it.
Good job.
STEP 2: Empty brownie mix, eggs (go back to the top and check how many), oil and water in a large bowl. No this isn't large enough. Start over.
Stir until you darn well feel like quitting.
Spread in greased pan, carefully hiding the powdery parts that you didn't mix well enough and bake immediately. Or when the oven finishes preheating. Oh wait. I haven't done that yet.
STEP 3: Lick spoon. Find smaller spoon and scrape chocolate off inside of bowl. Sneak bits of batter out of the pan. Waste half an hour eating batter.
STEP 4: Bake at the following times (I'm not typing this out because I sincerely doubt you care). Add 3-5 minutes for dark or non-stick pans. Oh crud, I forgot to grease it. Brownies are done when toothpick inserted blah blah blah blah comes out clean? What? Just like cake?
STEP 5: Wait for oven to finish preheating.
STEP 6: Finish anatomy homework.
STEP 7: YAY!! 325!!! Put it in and wait some more!!!
STEP 8: Remove brownies after you get sick of smelling their deliciousness, resist temptation to devour them on the spot, turn off oven so that you don't burn down your place of residence, and leave them out all night uncovered because, well, as I said, you're making box brownies. You're not the brightest cookie in the jar.
Uhh.
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