The Emergency Room is not to be used for hair cutting

Today is probably the worst day I've had in recent memory. With my new job I have Friday's and Saturday's off. This morning I woke up to my father whistling and yelling that he needed help. Anyone who has roomed with me knows it takes a few seconds for my brain to have any intelligent thoughts. I took too long to answer and my dad burst in my room shouting that he needed help, that he couldn't see and that he needed to go to the hospital. Not exactly a great combination.

I grabbed the first semi clothes like objects I could find, picked up my purse and ran upstairs. My father was in the garage manually pulling the door down. He'd been in the middle of installing the garage door opener when his eyes went wonky, one looking up the other down. He said it lasted for about five minutes. Since he looked okay I asked if he felt good enough for me to put on real clothes before we left for the ER. It only took me about minute to put on real clothes but it felt like an eternity.

When I got back upstairs (it was a good thing I'd gone down to my room to get dressed because my car keys were not in my purse) my father was back up on a ladder finishing the instillation... He took too long to answer questions and insisted on locking the back door before we left. It was rather annoying. If your in pain we need to just go, screw the back door.

Never before have I hated bad drivers so much. Never. I've also never hated school zones like I did today. I will admit that I went over the speed limit. But not a lot. Something was seriously wrong with my father and I couldn't risk the time it would take by being pulled over. Each minute I was stopped at a red light was excruciating; my thoughts spun out of control as I imagined the worst scenarios. I kept thinking he was going to have a seizure and die in the car and it would have been all my fault because I took the time to get dressed. The emotional roller coaster continued until I pulled into the ER drop off; it then went from up and down to pure panic as I watched daddy stagger in the door. Almost blind panic ensued as I went around to the parking garage to park the car. Later I couldn't even remember what floor I'd parked on.

Parking garages confuse me on good days, hospitals are also notoriously confusing. I'd never been in this hospital before, with the exception of when I was born, and almost burst into tears when trying to ask for directions. Thankfully they had rather large signs with easy to follow arrows. It was easy to get around once I'd calmed down enough so I could actually read the signs.

We waited less than a minute after I found the ER waiting room before being pulled back by a way to chipper nurse. Chick needed to detox the caffeine. The feeling of dread that had started when I woke up got strung tighter and tighter as she continued to ask asinine questions. I wanted to shake her and scream "Can't you tell something is wrong with my daddy?"

The only thing that stopped me was knowing nurses are required to ask those questions, that shaking a nurse is a great way to get kicked out and that one of my best friends is a nurse who talks about the crazy people she deals with at work. I don't want to be one of those crazy people. But it was so hard. It couldn't have been more than five or six minutes before she lead us back to the actual ER. At least that's what I assume it was since the entire area was done in overly soothing, sterile, horrifying hospital style. I don't care what experts in psychology say, there is nothing that can sooth people when someone they love is having medical problems Calm is not even registered as a valid emotion.

Another nurse came into the new patient room, number 13 cuz apparently the hospital staff is not superstitious at all (not that I noticed that until afterwords, like right now), and asked all the same questions again. When the doctor finally got there, and honestly in retrospect it took time but not nearly as long as it could have been, he ask all the questions a third time. I was trying to keep my freaking out to a minimum and not succeeding very well. It didn't help that every few seconds the heart monitor would let out a high pitched beeping noise. Every time I sort of got under control it would let out a loud shriek. Not exactly soothing.

The nurse came back and hooked my father up to an IV and the heart monitor. I sat their and watched it all happening, a useless bystander. It hurts to sit and watch someone you love be in pain, to have to sit there and do nothing. After a while I realized my mother did not know what was happening, I thought about calling her but ended up texting her because I didn't want to explain what was happening on voice mail. She showed up a half hour before noon so I could go get some food. One of the first things she commented on was my dad's hair, apparently it was too long and she wanted to give him a hair cut... Some days I cannot believe the things that she does. It's just unreal.

I remember being absurdly grateful when I saw that people didn't have to pay for the parking garage. I've never taken anyone to the hospital before, much less the emergency room and have never thought about the parking space and stuff that hospitals need. While I was out the doctors had him get a CT scan. Apparently he did not have a stroke, he had a pinched vein (or artery, or something like that) which causes all of the same symptoms as a stroke but isn't as bad...? I am still unclear on all of that.

What I do know is that instead of coming home and relaxing like the nurses told him too he is in the garage fixing the door opener... It's enough to make me develop eye twitches. The good news is that he's fine, there was no permanent damage. Unfortunately the doctors don't know why it happens sometimes and not others. Real helpful.

I wish I had a walk in freezer

To hide all the dead bodies. Of course.

Not really. I want it so the next time I get sunburned I can just crawl into it for a few hours. Or so when I find my own method for cryogenic freezing I will already have an place to stash my body. Not that I particularly want to go into cryo, seems like a waste of time. Knowing my luck I would end up like Mr. Freeze from Batman, never able to leave the cold suit thingy.

This would not look good on me. (photo).

Saturday was my Mommy's birthday (she's real old) and we did a picnic lunch birthday party thing. I totally spaced grabbing sunscreen. So did everyone else in my family, we all got burned a little but I got burned a whole lot. It hurts, it hurts like crazy bad. Getting sunburned seems to short circuit my ability to critically analyze ideas. Not like that particular ability is stable normally (hah, never). Because of that I now have a list of things you should never put on your sunburned skin.

Things that don't work on sunburns:
1.Body scrub
(bad, bad idea. I thought that if I used something that exfoliates skin it would help scrap off the burnt skin and I would get better faster. I have no idea if that actually worked, all I know is that if felt like rubbing my skin with sand paper. Not fun).

2. Vitamin E cream
(It just doesn't do anything, it hurts to rub on and does nothing useful).

3. Pain-a-trate
(It's basically the equivalent of icy/hot, I did not know that when I put it on. I would not have tried to use if if I had known that. I just thought it was a topical cream that numbed the skin, which sounded fabulous).

4. Clothes
(Sunburns make me want to join an indoor nudist colony).

Things that work on sunburns:
1. Aloe
(It's the most wonderful stuff ever. Unless it's straight from the plant, in which case it smells awful).

2. Ice
(I am not sure if this actually helps but it makes me feel better).

I want a remote for my cassette player

There is just something so wrong with that picture. A couple of days ago I rearranged my room and I now have my uber old boom box out were I can use it again. Well... the cd player doesn't work, the radio does and so does the cassette player. I spent most of the day listening to Broadway's Beauty and the Beast on tape. I feel old school.

I like sitting on my bed on my computer jamming out to the radio, or Beauty and the Beast but it gets really annoying when I can't turn the stupid thing off. Or when the radio has annoying commercials (I think this is a must for radios) and all I want to do is turn it down. I can't. Because it's so freaking old it doesn't have a remote control. I am not sure I could even rig it up to work with a remote control since all of the stuff is manual. I have to actually turn a  nob to change radio stations.

In all reality I should just chunk the thing and save up money for a new one. That leads into the problem of me having no working mp3 player... It gave me the blue screen of death and I am still hunting (not very hard) for the crap that came with it so I can (I am lost on the technical terms here) eliminate the bad program and replace it with one that will work... at least for now.

When I am all curled up in my bed I have no desire to untangle myself from blankets, books and my computer to turn the damn thing off. Instead I shoot lazer beams at it and hope it melts in fear. So far that method has proved beyond helpful. It just sits there... staring at me. I think my boom box is an undercover agent sent by the Japanese publishing companies to make sure I am not illegally reading scanned books online.

Wow... that makes me sound entirely way to nerdy.

Best character from Beauty and the Best.

When I was listening to the tape I realized that there were quite a few song I didn't remember from the movie. They could have just been part of the Broardway ... but it's also been over a decade since I have last watched Beauty and the Beast. Hmm... I feel like I need to change that.

Childhood paranoia and adult freak outs

Last night a childhood fear struck with a vengeance, it's one I had totally forgotten about and the reason why I sleep surrounded by pillows. I don't know why I have this fear, I am not even sure there was a cause (other than freaky books). As a child I was afraid that snakes were curled up at the bottom of my bed and if I stretched my legs out they would eat me, unless there was a pillow between me and the snakes. I am not kidding. I am fairly sure I used to think that goblins would get me if I didn't have a pillow between me and the wall. Yeah... I can't remember what was going to get me if I didn't have a pillow on the other side of my bed, but I am almost positive it was nasty.

I also used to hate using the bathroom because I thought trolls lived in the sewer and they would pull me down when I wasn't looking. Specifically through the toilet, which is ridiculous, there is just no way I could have ever fit down a toilet pipe. Ironically this fear did not follow me to outhouses... which really doesn't make any sense. For years I would never take my eyes of the drain when taking a shower. I have had no relapses with this paranoia, apparently bathroom trolls only want kids.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how much used to freak me out as a kid. It's amazing I ever left my room.

A paranoia that I still have, and that is almost crippling at times, is the fear that someone is hiding under my bed. Or those creepy stairs that don't have a back, so someone could reach through and grab me. *shudder*

Not cool. I hate those stairs. I basically hate anyplace someone could hid and catch me unawares. I constantly have to suppress the urge to check my trunk for potential kidnappers. I hate walking on a sidewalk that is right next to the road, I actually hate being within ten feet of a car, specifically vans. And parking garages... those just scream "I am a potential Murderer/Raper/Kidnapper's wet dream!"

Hmmm... wow. I have issues.

The reason I had a relapse into childhood fears of snakes at the bottom of my bed is because I stayed up late reading. Not that the book had anything to do with it, but whenever I go without sleep for a while it sneaks up on me. I will try to stretch out so I can sleep only to be almost paralyzed with fear and unable to relax enough for sleeping. It sucks. The only way to fall asleep is to curl up into a tiny ball and hope I am can just pass out.

Also zombies. I am terrified of zombies. I know they don't actually exist, but I can't watch movies with zombies. The few times I did I couldn't sleep for days without having nightmares. Just talking about zombies gives me the heebie-jeebies, things freak me out. I would much rather be attacked by a serial killer than a zombie... Well... maybe not. They all freak me out.

Post card, mug and a Texan

The trip down to here was horrific. We left Casper on Thursday night and stayed in Denver because our flight left around 8ish in the morning. Thanks to all the new airport security measures we had to be at the airport before 6 a.m. May you never have to do that.

My mother was epic fail when purchasing the tickets. She bought my sister a ticket under her maiden name. When she called Southwest to change it, they said she had to cancel the ticket and buy one at the current ticket price. That didn't happen because the ticket prices had sky rocketed. So my sister had to go hunt down her birth certificate and her old and new social security cards. She never threw her old one away when she got married.

Security wasn't nearly as bad I as I thought it was going to be. It was pretty much the same as before, no pat downs. But they did have one of those new fangled things that use x-rays. My mother had to go through that one and it said that the top of her head and her left wrist had to much metal in them. Even the security guards thought that was odd. We didn't even need our id's to get onto the plane. They had posts with numbers on them and we had to line up by ticket numbers and then they let us on the plane.

It felt like I was back in kindergarten.

The hotel has been an experience. The very first day we couldn't get the key cards to work. A desk worker came up and stuck this weird looking thing in and got the door open. Turns out that those key card doors are run by batteries and ours had run out of juice. The desk worker ended up having to replace the batteries but the door still didn't work so he had to get the maintenance people to replace the lock. It still doesn't work that well. Either that or no one in my family can get it to work. Some of the keys they gave us haven't worked either. It was definitely a new experience. If an unwanted one.

So far Texas has been fun. Yesterday hit the 90's, which wasn't fun. It feels like summer for Wyoming. Kind of sad since it's now fall there.

One of my mom's students collects postcards and my sister collects mugs. They were talking in the car about what they wanted to pick up as a keep sake. I told them I just wanted a Texan with really big boots. It took my mother a few minutes to catch what I said.

We have rented a Dodge Charger. The car is freaking awesome, it has a touchscreen radio control thingy. The only thing that sucks is the middle seat in the back is sooooo not comfortable. It's tiny and hurts my back to sit there. Thankfully we don't drive for more than a few minutes everyday.

No you cannot eat my glasses

I am sure everyone is tired of hearing about the kitties. I know I am tired of having stories to write about them. Mostly because it means something mildly traumatic has happened to me. I know, I should be worried about the cats, but my narcissism just wont let me focus on anyone but me. I am just so damn sexy...

Yeah. That really was awkward.

So the finally decision has been reached on what was ailing Auschwitz kitty. He has worms. No, I am not joking. And yes, it's really nasty. He has been locked into the scary room, separated to keep the rest of us safe. The other kitty is doing just fine, other than having a minor cold. He's sitting on my lap right now, purring like crazy. When he's not attempting to sabotage my computer.

Kyo has schitzo moments. He will be purring and all sweet and cuddly and then, bam, he bites me. And this is the second reason for why I will never have pets. That and he was trying to eat my glass... Seriously disturbed kitty.

Sadly enough, the kitty stories are really the only interesting thing happening in my life. I am almost failing half of my classes and I have no job. Why does this sound so familiar?

Don't answer that.

I did attempted to make my parents insurance payments higher. My daddy just bought a Corvette (yes it's awesome, no I have no idea what it looks like) and he had to fly somewhere to go pick the car up. Well he took my car to the airport and had my brother drive it back. So I had to take the Tahoe to school last night. I almost rolled the freaking car. Apparently a Tahoe does not corner the same way a small car would. It was rather terrifying.

I identify myself as a small car driver, the Tahoe is not a small car. While I was having a mild heart attack because the freaking vehicle is a hulk, it was also raining. Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed. My car has very few fancy gadgets, I consider myself lucky when it starts with no problems. When class got out it had stopped raining. I didn't know how to turn off the back windshield whipper, and while I was trying to turn on the over head light, so I could see, I ended up opening up the stupid sky light thingy. A sun window... something like that. I got a little stressed out. I will leave the rest of that exciting adventure for you to imagine.

Here is my favorite Lolz cats of the day. Cheers.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures, and check out our Socially Awkward Penguin lolz!

This adventure sucks.

I would say that I want to go home... but I already am.

The last week has just been really rough.

I lost my job, got chewed out by one of my teachers (will explain that momentarily) and totally thought I was getting hit on by a freaking 17 yr old (more on this as well). Basically life has just been kind of sucky and I don't really have anything happy going on.

When I was in Lincoln I got some fun pictures, but that is about the only exciting thing that's happened.

Yesterday I got called out, after class thankfully, about doing a Sudoku during class instead of taking notes. His actual words were "What kind of message do you think that sends to your teacher? And what about your classmates?"

I really wanted to snap back "I have a freaking communication degree, I know what message I am sending!"

Unfortunately because I have a communication degree I know better than to follow my impulse and snap something sassy back. But it was super close. I had practically no sleep the night before, was trying to figure out how I was going to get a job and on top of all that I had to sit through an hour long lecture that had been taken out of the book almost verbatim. I was not in a good mood and my teacher was trying to explain to me, like a was a first year, what message my actions broadcasted.... it was irritating to stand there quietly, explain how I can't focus and take notes at the same time and then promise to not do Sudoku in class again.

By which I plan to rip it out of the book and set it on top of my notebook so it does not appear that I am doing a Sudoku.

On to the funniest story I think has ever happened to me. At least super close to the funniest story ever. Um... so, well, here goes.

Yesterday, it was rather exciting day, I got a text from this little seventeen-year-old who does not realize that  after three months I have still never returned a text... I really just want to ask him if he was stupid. Anyway. I was in hurry getting ready for class and I get a text from him asking me to go to prom with him... I obviously did not think that through because prom isn't until the end of the year, but I replied with the fact that I was in class all evening (I felt bad and leaving someone hanging for prom is just not nice). Well then I get this text asking me "Wut bout prom nite? wanna git it on?" (this is a direct quote of the text I received). Well that freaked me out. I mean the kid is way younger than me, right? So nasty.

Well, turns out... When I got to school I checked my phone again trying to figure out how to politely turn him down. I looked at the text again and realized it was from one of my bffs... She can be such a punk. The funniest part of this little shenanigan is that before I realized it was from my friend I had called one of my other friends and left a freaked out voice mail...

Let's just say I was alternately amused and mortified.

And on that happy note. Here is a picture of the blanket of death I have been working on.

Um... yeah

So my first adventure in Wyoming next week will be finding a new job, because I just got let go. Because there is a lack of things for me to do. Although my boss-man did tell me that if other stuff comes up they will hire me as a freelance writer. Which is cool. But sucky right now because I no longer have a guaranteed pay check. And I bought a bunch of new clothes so I could actually be simi-dressy at work.

But it's cool. Some how I will over come this latest hurdle and get the awesomest dream job ever. Maybe I will actually go for this whole freelance writing thing. It can't be that hard can it?

Who am I kidding. It's going to be ridiculously difficult.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

A dear friend of mine has recently complained that Rice Crispies just are not as good as she remembered them as a child. I am inclined to agree. Not only is the cereal predominantly air, it's freak'n expensive. Or maybe that is just the college student in my talking.

Life after college is not what I expected it to be ... granted I didn't have any real expectations just a vague sense of "it has to be better." But noooooo.

Then again I am currently employed part time (Great news about that, but later), living at home (eek) in a freakishly tiny room (can anyone say smaller than a dorm room?), and my car is once again smooshed.

My freaking car is a magnate for disaster. Not only does nothing actual work in a manner designed for it, but it has been less than six months (okay almost exactly six months) since it last had a booboo. I do not know how these things happen to me, but they do and it is really irritating.

I was having the worst day ever, at least in recent memory. The night before I had stolen some of my sister's Chinese food only to find out it had been sitting out since lunch ... it did not agree with my digestive tract and I ended up with mild food poisoning (Yucky). By the afternoon I was bored enough to adventure outside all by myself and headed straight for the library. Mistake one.

I was patiently waiting for a car/truck/van thing to pull out of a space in front of me when the jeepy wannabe thing starts backing up, right into my car. I layed on the horn (which might not actually work) but they didn't hear that and in fact the stupid kid (yes he was definitely a kid) didn't even realize he had backed up into something until his car wouldn't go backwards anymore.

My passenger side door got taken out by tire. His freaking jeep wannabe thing didn't even have a scratch and mine has no right side mirror and a dent in the door. *fume*

Still not feeling very good I get out and find myself face to well not face because he was so short and pimply faced, and seventeen. He so did not look seventeen. He looked like a sickly sixth grader.

Anyway then we had to wait for the police (neither of own the cars we're driving) and it took forever. Also, on a completely unrelated note one of the other guys in the car swapped numbers with me (I have no idea what compelled me to agree ... I just. I don't even know.) And then, this is the punch line, he texts me the next day from his mom's phone. Seriously. His mom's phone. I cannot emphasis that enough.

His reasoning? His phone was out of minutes. Then he proceeds to text me obnoxious, totally obvious pick up lines. Desperate much. (We're not even going to touch on the fact that I actually agreed to giving him my number, it was a minor psychotic break down and will most likely never be repeated. Hopefully). I gave half hearted replies... I know it's shocking that I actually replied, but well, it's really boring here. 'Nough said.

Windshield wipers are about as helpful as printers

I am going to find the person who designed the timer on my wipers and do something really nasty. Like lock him in a room with my brother after he's had a turkey sandwich, or some other inhuman treatment. I know. I will shove him into an elevator with Richard Simons and make sure the music playing is "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" by Cher, and it will only play that track, over and over, again and again, until the man dies from shock.



Why am I this angry over a the timing of my windshield wipers? Because it has three settings: are the wipers even on?, rain on highway, and so fast the wipers obscure vision without help from rain.

Only one of which is helpful and then I have only needed that setting like twice in the year I have owned my car. The slowest setting takes over ten seconds to cycle. Ten seconds. In what world would it ever be raining slow enough to take ten seconds to make vision difficult? It never take that long.

But if I am driving through town and it's sprinkling I have the options of raining windshield vs. squeaking blades because there is not enough moisture to effectively work. Neither is a good choice. I can either risk death by not having clear vision of the road or attempting to ram the back of another car because of the high pitched keening let out by the wipers.

Or I can just manually hit the wipers every time I need to see out my windshield. This gets very annoying, very quickly.

Since there is no good option I try to drive in the rain as little as is possible. And surprisingly this strategy has worked wonderfully. It would have continued to work wonderfully if I had not gotten an e-mail letting me know the book I had on hold at the library was finally in. Since it's been an epically long wait of maybe six days.

Anyway. I hopped into my car all psyched to get this book I have been absolutely dying to read. Fly through traffic while manually working my stupid wipers. I pull up in front of the library and there are no cars in the parking lot. Not a single car. This in a parking lot that rarely has more than five open spaces, ever.

I had forgotten that today is parade day and every office that can finagle its way into closing early does. This includes all public services. Stupid library.

Well I was rather pissy, seeing as how I will now have to wait longer to get that book I've been wanting to read. When I got back home I actually read the e-mail, instead of just the subject line. It wasn't even from the local library. It was a book I had put on hold three months ago in the Lincoln library. So annoying.

One more day.

One more day of hell and I will be done!

I can't even think straight right now. I wanted to post all about the crazyness of graduation weekend, moving out of the dorm and surviving Micobiology. Unfortunately, I cannot remember what on earth I was going to post about. Several funny things have happened, but I don't really remember. Of course that can be blamed on my lack of sleep and intense amounts of caffeine.

I was sick yesterday though. It was unpleasant I had a really soar throat and couldn't really talk when I woke up. Because of that I have an entire lab to make up for class. FML.

Tomorrow is the last day of class, the day we present then take the final from hell. Yay!

I really need to find a job so that I can finish up my degree. Doesn't look like it's going to be easy though. Yay economy!

Then I will probably be moving home. Yay for home!

FML.

Holy freaking crap I think I've had to much coffee ... pull out the Mountain Dew

Unpaginated.

This is a real word.

It's in my Hacker.

I can't stop laughing about it.

Pre final jitters

It's like I am getting married, being given a death sentence or have just been told I will be forced to listen to "Whip My Hair" on repeat for eternity, all at the same time. I am feeling nauseated, repulsed and down right bitchy.

Basically it all adds up to "this is the last week before finals" jitters.

I can't concentrate for the life of me. Extreme caffeine induced bliss is quickly followed by death, damnation and destruction. I can't decide it I want to break out singing "Thriller" or grab a Nerf Sword and beat people with it, repeatedly.



Or break out the Nerf double headed ax.



All of which is happening because I have gotten to little sleep and consumed to much coffee. This is a reoccurring phenomenon. I am almost positive the only reason I don't remember how horrendous I act at the end of every semester is because of the insane amount of endorphins my body releases when I finally wake up from death sleep (the great collapse that follows the last final).

It's a little like being pregnant. The only reason women do it again is because their body releases a bunch of happy after almost dying, so they don't remember the trauma of pushing a ten pound ball of death out of their bodies.

That is mildly disturbing.



There that made everything better.

I feel like I had some ingenious thing I was going to wax eloquently on. And for the life of me I cannot remember what it was. Damn.

Awkward. Awkward. NOOOOOO!

The most mortifying experience of my life happened about five minutes ago.

A friend got a chocolate milkshake from an acquaintance of mine. Being the little brat that I am I decided I needed to text him and find out why he had not given me one as well. He had no idea who I was. This did not please me because we have been fairly good friends in previous years and I was mifted that he had my friends number but not mine.

After a few jokingly not nice text messages he seemed very upset that I was not telling who I was. Well I decided I could not have gotten anymore hints than I did, so I told him my name.

He still didn't know who I was.

I had (shocking) not been texting the person I thought I had been texting. I had said some not nice things the other person did not realize were jokes.

Epically embarrassing.

On a completely unrelated note. Don't ever by fluffy peach mallows of doom. Nastiest shit ever. It foams up in your mouth and does a good example of "human with rabies."

Not a pleasant sensation.

The curse of Pandora

I have issues with Pandora. The stupid internet radio thingy. Don't get me wrong, I think the idea is ingenious. It's just that the execution is sadly lacking.

Every new station I start is cursed by the man who sings "Over the Rainbow." I think his name is Israel "IZ" Kaʻanoʻi Kamakawiwoʻole. I think the song is pretty cool. Anything accompanied by a Ukulele is freakishly awesome.



But when I have a station based off of P!nk's music I just don't see the correlation between the songs.

Anyway. That was not what I was going to talk about. While I am curesed by a Hawaiian man playing the ukulele on every Pandora station there is an even worse curse.

I have a really bad habit of tuning out any background noise when working on homework, this includes music. Well even though I am tuning it out occasionally (okay it's way more than occasionally, it's all the fraking time) I will start to sing along with the song playing, wither I like it our not.

I sitting minding my own business catching up on my blog reading when all of a sudden I notice I am singing along with a song. Then it hits me what song it was. I was singing "Whip My Hair" by Willow Smith.

What is wrong with Pandora that it would have even played that song? Why?




I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.
I whip my hair back and forth.

I really hope that song is going to be stuck in your head now too.

Things found in the dorm

Other than waking up to a bathroom covered in condoms (it was April 1st, and a rather amusing prank) things have been a little kooky in the dorm recently. I went to use the bathroom and found out that about half of the toilet seat was missing. It was just gone *poof*! Leaving about 3/4 of the seat basically useless.

Then there was the fabulous poster advertising "squeezing your lemons." I later found out it was to advertise a talk about breast cancer, but it is still weird to see a naked women who has had her breasts replaced with lemons placed next to a poster about a worship.

Also this week I kicked ass at Mario Kart Wii. Along with several times getting my ass kicked. Basically just realized that I have a knack for video games and am pretty good at them. Occasionally. Not as often as I would like, but eh.

A very good friend of mine had a rather embarrassing moment this last week. Her pants were falling down and instead of just pulling them back up she thought it would be funny to moon the hallway. Since no one was behind her it should have been fine. Well just when she dropped her drawers, her boss walked around the corner and saw everything. Poor girl spent the next ten minutes collapsed on the floor laughing.

Um... what?

The last few days have past in a blur of apathetic senior on the verge of failing. Everything was going fine until I realized there are very few days left in this school year. Part of me feels like this



And the rest of me feels like this



I have how many days to finish all this freaking homework I have put off all year? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. FML!

It's not all that bad. I think totally I only need to write about 45 pages of bull shit to finish this semester.

Damn. That seems so much worse when written out.

Being vindictive is not in my repertoire

But really it is. A friend had come in my room singing Disney songs, which I would normally go along with, but I was reading for my history of Rome class and that book is evil. It just drops all the information unceremoniously on the page, intense man.

When she settled down and started reading on of her text books I grabbed the can of air freshener, planning on spraying her with the harmless apple spiced fragrance. Before pushing the button I stood near her having a silent hysterical laughing fit (meaning my mouth was wide open but no noise - so much easier to scare them with). Unbeknownst to me the can was aimed directly into my mouth. Air freshener does not taste the way it smells, in any way shape or form.

And that is pretty much a great example of my life. Someone does something to annoy me and I retaliate in a way that backfires and makes me look stupid, crazed and majorly screwed in the head.

I'm so glad people don't expect normal when hiring ... What? They do? Well I guess I am just screwed then. Might as well enjoy it.

I am gonna kill you!

Who do I hate? Myself. Why? Because life is evil. Right now I feel like I will never be able to write professionally and I should just give up while I am ahead of the game. Not like anyone actually gets ahead, they just think they do. There is a very good reason for my pessimistic attitude. I have been working on an article for work, the same one I drug my ass out of bed early to write, all day and most of yesterday. I have spent probably close to three days writing the bloody thing. I was having a hard time writing the leed (normally spelled lead, but because journalists can't ever share we get our own spelling). So I did what I normally do in this situation, I asked for help. Then I went to lunch, cuz I was starving.

When I got back from lunch my article had a better leed, better structure and all around was just fucking better. If this was not a normal occurrence it wouldn't have bothered me, but since this happens every time I write something it makes me angry. I spent hours slaving over an article only to have it completely revamped in less than an hour. I don't even understand why they hired me. They obviously can write it by themselves, write it better and in less time, so even bother hiring someone to write for them?

It just makes me realize what utter crap my writing is.

Maybe I really do need to just stop. At least stop writing happy articles, I am pretty sure I could kick someones ass writing satire. FML.