tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61268868702543847092024-03-12T17:14:38.219-07:00I'm Funny, But Looks Aren't Everything...Musings on life, love and music addiction from an un-televised personality.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-8100387666610759782011-06-30T11:26:00.000-07:002011-06-30T11:26:39.852-07:00Planning Shenanigans Planning a wedding is exhausting. Even though we pretty much thought it was all planned out, there was still the logistic side of everything to figure out. Namely- how did we make so many friends? We made a preliminary guest list and we had 150 guests. NOT INCLUDING FAMILY. We need to become less friendly, because 150 people plus all of our families are not going to fit at the cottage. I think we have struck on a fairly good compromise though. We are going to keep the actual wedding super-small and then when we get back from the honeymoon, we will have a big party in the Ann Arbor area. So if you don't get invited to the actual wedding, don't get offended, you are still loved by us, but we have to invite Aunt Mildred. (She can't come to the big afterparty, don'tcha know?) And if you DO get invited to the wedding, you better show up. Or decline in a timely manner so we can give your seats to someone else. If you decide not to acquiesce to this very reasonable demand, than I will sic killer crack-smoking clowns on you or something equally horrible will happen. I'm just sayin'.... don't mess with my seating chart.<br />
<br />
In other news, I think the clothing aspect of the wedding is finished. Also, I've realized that I'd rather work on the wedding than any of my homework. Look at the giant pile of Chemistry homework, or look at honeymoon spots? Yeah.... at the moment, the honeymoon plan is to fly to Ireland and stay in a castle there for a few nights and then hop on a cruise and visit Rome, London and then fly back home from Paris. (You can see why this interests me more than the molecular properties of nitrogen, yeah?)<br />
<br />
<br />
In non-wedding related news, we bought a kayak for me. A purchase which was quite fun and only dampened a little, due to the fact that they had no pink ones. I will attempt to be an outdoorsy-type kayak-er.( Because apparently kayaking inside is something only drunk people do.) As much as I dislike outdoorsy-type shenanigans, I am giving it an honest go. It seems that I always end up sunburnt, questioned by the mafia or a combination of the two. However, we will be taking them out on Lake Michigan this weekend, so wish me luck!<br />
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Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-39424025076787452742011-03-27T10:34:00.000-07:002011-03-27T14:07:48.126-07:00EngagementSo, Boy and I have been rather serious for awhile now, and we'd discussed marriage. A few weeks ago, we actually picked out a ring, but it had to be made specially and so I wasn't sure when he was going to propose. I knew that the ring would be delivered sometime in the next few weeks, and I was wondering when it would arrive. When I got home from school on Friday, I noticed a FedEx "Sorry We Missed You" sticker on the door. I immediately assumed it was the ring, so I texted Boy the address where he could pick up the package and then had to wait for him to get home.<br />
<br />
When he arrived home a few hours later, he had the package with him, and I was all excited to see if I was right, but inside I was telling myself<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-EvBFps5rs/TY-nEaZ7F6I/AAAAAAAAAEk/D3cju8vatSU/s1600/jamesfrancobecoolgif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-EvBFps5rs/TY-nEaZ7F6I/AAAAAAAAAEk/D3cju8vatSU/s1600/jamesfrancobecoolgif.gif" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>But, apparently, I wasn't very successful I mean, Boy knows me pretty well so he was all<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHOgXgzGVHU/TY9siLOd7OI/AAAAAAAAADw/p_Duf2Drk6U/s1600/unicorneyeroll.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHOgXgzGVHU/TY9siLOd7OI/AAAAAAAAADw/p_Duf2Drk6U/s1600/unicorneyeroll.gif" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
At my attempt at nonchalance. And thankfully, he didn't keep me in suspense for too long. He told me that he had been racking his brain over the past couple of months trying to think of the best way to ask me to marry him. He wanted to make a grand gesture, write a song and put the question in the lyrics, sprinkle rose petals all over the house, write it in the sky, ect. And he said as he was driving home, he was thinking of all these things and he realized that all of those things, that isn't who we are. We show our love and affection for each other every day in the small things. When I make him a lunch for work, or surprise him with a videogame he wanted. When he fills up my gas tank or brings me breakfast in bed. And he said that I am the best person he has ever known, I inspire him to be the best man that he can be, and he can't imagine spending the rest of his life without me. Then he got down on one knee, opened the ring box and asked me to marry him.<br />
<br />
And I said yes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZstdvxpERZI/TY-fcYtdmDI/AAAAAAAAAEg/n1VCA6BhJ00/s1600/minionsglee.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZstdvxpERZI/TY-fcYtdmDI/AAAAAAAAAEg/n1VCA6BhJ00/s1600/minionsglee.gif" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
And this is the ring:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oUeJRR3_Nwc/TY903mUcnqI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N-lUoP_yZ-o/s1600/ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oUeJRR3_Nwc/TY903mUcnqI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N-lUoP_yZ-o/s320/ring.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>The end!Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-86469676396080503512011-02-21T19:48:00.000-08:002011-02-21T19:52:00.573-08:00IntrospectionI sit quietly with my face in my textbook, highlighter uncapped and poised above a page that my eyes are not reading. Instead, I stare unblinkingly at nothing, letting my eyes unfocus so that there is nothing to be seen but a blur of colors and ambiguous shapes in front of me.<br />I wonder if this will get easier.<br />If the waiting, the hoping, the planning, this tireless, endless pursuit..<br />if at some point I will feel like I've succeeded enough to allow myself a break.<br />I sip my chai tea, black and sugarless, and try not to care.<br />But willing yourself to not care about something that has become so entangled, so enmeshed in your psyche is<br />a futile attempt.<br />There are some feelings that fill you up,<br />dig their roots into your skin<br />and never let go.<br />They swell<br />and blow you over,<br />like wind and waves.<br />This is how I feel about my experience of life.<br />One day I was carefree, the next I was not.<br />I cannot define what changed or precipitated the metamorphosis,<br />I know only this:<br />That now I am driven to pursue this goal that beckons in the distance<br />And that the feeling, the desire, the <em>need</em> is so strongly ingrained upon my person that to resist is anathema.<br />And love, that glorious, elusive thing, seems so incongruous<br />With the unrelenting manner that I push myself,<br />That I sometimes am baffled at how others can love me.<br />Even though I love them all very dearly.<br />These are the thoughts in my head,<br />As I stare at the snow falling outside<br />And do not study for my midterm exams.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9-gAOiSXxbY/TWMyjwRhR-I/AAAAAAAAADI/fKSAkTobRvE/s1600/snowoutside.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9-gAOiSXxbY/TWMyjwRhR-I/AAAAAAAAADI/fKSAkTobRvE/s320/snowoutside.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576356353450002402" border="0" /></a>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-16086391241572573492010-11-07T14:34:00.001-08:002010-11-07T14:34:45.990-08:00Sad Panda.I'm close with my family. Not as close as some, but the more I am exposed to other families, the more I understand how unique the bond is that I share with my immediate family. I am especially close with my sisters, and I feel very protective over my younger siblings in general. I have eight siblings, and my younger sister Zoe recently has had some problems at school. Now, I realize that junior high is hard for everyone- it was no picnic for me either, but hearing how these kids behave makes me want to go kick some thirteen-year-old-butts. However, because I'm in Michigan and they are in Wyoming, the best I can do is offer advice and the encouragement that life absolutely gets better after junior high.<br />
<br />
It definitely does.<br />
And in the meantime.....<br />
All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of life.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TNcpbSDb3DI/AAAAAAAAAC8/31fQfbkiwuk/s1600/haterspanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TNcpbSDb3DI/AAAAAAAAAC8/31fQfbkiwuk/s1600/haterspanda.jpg" /></a></div>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-90891597311484977712010-10-19T14:24:00.000-07:002010-10-19T14:24:44.078-07:00Ok, Cool. Awesome.I have the worst lab group in the history of lab groups. No one does anything! I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to academics, so I'll give them that, but if I didn't do anything (everything) then absolutely nothing would get done. They don't understand the material, I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one actually passing the class, and, joy of joys, we have a group paper due. I was apprehensive about this when the assignment was first handed out, but I figured that it's only fair to give everyone a chance. But here I am, the day before it's due, with only my portion of the paper written. I conducted the experiment, made notes for everyone, pestered them for weeks to have them give me their materials so I could compile the paper and here it is at the eleventh hour and I am pissed. I don't even know their last names, to put it on the paper! I emailed everyone a few hours ago as a last ditch effort that maybe they would email me their parts of the paper. <br />
But whatever. I'm just going to write the whole thing.<br />
Awesome.<br />
<br />
And I have midterms this week.<br />
Cool.<br />
<br />
And I accidentally set my kitchen on fire.<br />
Awesome.<br />
<br />
And I feel like I'm losing my mind.<br />
Cool.<br />
It's inappropriate to lay on the floor and scream when you're at college, isn't it?<br />
Awesome.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-54704449542329237272010-10-01T10:21:00.000-07:002010-10-01T10:33:34.166-07:00Academia will steal all your time and eat it!nom nom nom nom nom....<br />I've been busy.<br />18 credit hours is a lot of work.<br />I knew that, going into the semester, but I somehow believed that I had hidden superpowers that would make it easier than it is for everyone else.<br />What can I say?<br />I have my ego-centric, narcisisstic moments. :)<br />But, while it's been busy, it's been great to use my brain, and really start learning in a classroom enrivonment again. (I was previously keeping the majority of my brain sedated, so as to not become irate at the level of work I was being asked to do professionally. You only need about 1/48 of your brain to work in collections, sales, service or copy writing.)<br />I've begun running again, and find that it helps me keep my stress levels in moderation, so that I don't come home at the end of a 13 hour school day and just cry about all the work I have yet to do. I'm too tired for that! Bonus: I've cut my running time down to about a solid 8 minute mile and can run for about an hour before I die/spontaneously combust.<br />But in all seriousness, I am impressed with my ability to consistently get up before the sun and function at a human level. I am 1/3 through with this semester and so far, have straight As. I'm working hard to keep it that way, so that when I transfer, they will be like, "You're really old! But, you are good at stuff.... we'll let you in!"<br />Hopefully, anyway.<br /><br />So I'm off to my exciting Friday night of studying, reading, outlining and working out.<br />Man, college is crazy.<br />Hats off to all of you who are doing it too.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TKYYY-JUQ_I/AAAAAAAAAC0/nEy1wYaFsGc/s1600/insidemybrain.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TKYYY-JUQ_I/AAAAAAAAAC0/nEy1wYaFsGc/s320/insidemybrain.jpg" width="320" height="213" px="true" /></a></div><div align="center">This is what the inside of my brain looks like. </div>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-74502890271180280292010-08-23T23:54:00.000-07:002010-08-23T23:54:32.078-07:00Things that make me smile.So I thought I'd share.<br />
Because it's been a rough couple of weeks.<br />
And smiles are awesome.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNsVdsI07I/AAAAAAAAACo/RhnbqDuZaNI/s1600/bvlg0_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNsVdsI07I/AAAAAAAAACo/RhnbqDuZaNI/s320/bvlg0_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrKwcsFVI/AAAAAAAAACY/F9fmbWU2-jM/s1600/tumblr_l7j3yzIKOE1qcwi6wo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrKwcsFVI/AAAAAAAAACY/F9fmbWU2-jM/s320/tumblr_l7j3yzIKOE1qcwi6wo1_500_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrP-x8CRI/AAAAAAAAACc/9Mf4TpAApt0/s1600/random-funny-photos-29_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrP-x8CRI/AAAAAAAAACc/9Mf4TpAApt0/s320/random-funny-photos-29_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrTFj2C8I/AAAAAAAAACg/IplJlB-Y5C4/s1600/tumblr_l4p6gzHlSk1qaf7fio1_400_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrTFj2C8I/AAAAAAAAACg/IplJlB-Y5C4/s320/tumblr_l4p6gzHlSk1qaf7fio1_400_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrY2cBwoI/AAAAAAAAACk/-i-DFwbnstQ/s1600/tumblr_l787tloF6r1qakhh2o1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/THNrY2cBwoI/AAAAAAAAACk/-i-DFwbnstQ/s320/tumblr_l787tloF6r1qakhh2o1_500_large.png" width="320" /></a></div>The end. :DStyrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-63538172341653311742010-08-12T12:14:00.000-07:002010-08-12T12:14:01.898-07:00Oprah isn't the only one who has favorite things.<div style="text-align: center;">The following is one of my favorite life philosophies.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It doesn't bother me at all that I borrowed it from the character Barney on "<i>How I Met Your Mother</i>".</div><div style="text-align: center;">If anything, it only makes it <b>more</b> awesome.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TGRHvxedRxI/AAAAAAAAACU/rE_96SJSx8Q/s1600/tumblr_l3hwmqZhFa1qzxludo1_400_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TGRHvxedRxI/AAAAAAAAACU/rE_96SJSx8Q/s320/tumblr_l3hwmqZhFa1qzxludo1_400_large.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-67284371226747387382010-08-06T16:02:00.000-07:002010-08-06T16:04:51.588-07:00I'm made of money! Oh, wait, that's not me, that's someone else.....I buy books all the time. I've owned somewhere between 200 and 300 books. Many of them fiction, and even more of them on permanent loan with friends or siblings, but still. I own a lot of books. Now, even with all of my extensive book-buying experience, I was not prepared for yesterday. For my five classes next semester, I had to buy ten textbooks. <i>Ten</i>. And I spent just over $800.00. I think this textbook buying business is a racket. I'm paying you $130 for a book that I can then sell back to you for $15, which you will turn around to sell for $75. It's a racket, I say! I would have bought them for cheaper online, but in order to use my financial aid to pay for them, I have to go through the colleges' book store. I smell a conspiracy for the college to get even more of my money! Haha. Well, in any case, I'm excited for my classes to begin, so I can put these expensive tomes to work for me!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFyUEORj1XI/AAAAAAAAACM/8M19QFzGTZY/s1600/tumblr_l6q80ea5Xm1qc1sj2o1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img style="width: 456px; height: 426px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFyUEORj1XI/AAAAAAAAACM/8M19QFzGTZY/s640/tumblr_l6q80ea5Xm1qc1sj2o1_500_large.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>I leave you with a snapshot of my bedroom to illustrate my book-lovin' ways.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-40445434391967293212010-08-05T11:50:00.000-07:002010-08-05T11:53:54.232-07:00My "artistic" temperament<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFrordJQGoI/AAAAAAAAAB4/xokiPvuMhFI/s1600/tumblr_l57qdwGmzn1qa86ezo1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFrordJQGoI/AAAAAAAAAB4/xokiPvuMhFI/s320/tumblr_l57qdwGmzn1qa86ezo1_500_large.png" border="0" width="320" height="196" /></a></div>Sometimes I get melancholy. Usually after several glasses of wine, or an string of dark, stormy days. (or even just humid days. Humidity makes my hair explode like some horrible science project gone awry, which does wonders for my mood.) But occasionally I just am sad. I fall into an interminable funk where nothing is fun (especially not me) and I am a giant pile of emo shit. They used to give me pills to correct that, but I stopped taking them. There was a logical reason, for it at the time, I'm sure. But I don't really remember exactly why.... I think I wanted to give my brain a chance to try to fix itself. (*<i>shrugs</i>*) And to be honest, for the majority of the time, I do alright. But for those of you being brought down by my current ennui and depression, <b>I apologize.</b> I can't say I'll stop, but I'll try. Since the dissolution of <span style="color:red;">Astral Feedback</span>, my band, I find that I miss having a creative outlet in that way. So now I keep all my post-teenage angst in my head. I go for runs in this horrible heat, hiding behind giant bug-eye shades so people don't know that the runner with crazy giant hair is me. The running helps, I don't know about the shades.<br /><br />On the bright side, I start classes in a couple of weeks. And with my eighteen credits this semester, I don't think I'll have any time to mope about Michigans' Lake Effect on my hair or the oil spill crisis. (Yes, in that order. I'm narcissistic.)<br />I am taking:<br /><b>Composition</b>: Not worried about this class, as I write for my dayjob currently and have always been pretty good with words.<br /><b>Public Speaking</b>: This isn't my favorite thing to do, but I fronted a band for four years, and this should be easier than that. I <i>do</i> like being the center of attention, so it will work out. I have faith.<br /><b>Biology</b>: I <3 science.<br /><b>Nutrition</b>: I repeat, I <3 science. I also like to cook so I'm actually pretty amped for this class.<br /><b>Psychology</b>: I find the human brain completely fascinating. I'm mostly amped about this class and the nutrition.<br />My only real worry with my fall schedule is that I have a 7:30AM class Monday through Thursday. I am not a morning person <i>at all.</i> But I guess I will learn to be. Caffeine and I are good friends. I will just have to start being more organized. And really, the OCD part of my brain loves it when I am super organized. So, really, I only have good things coming up on my horizon.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFsHOxEDMqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ls-n5PN5myU/s1600/20081211074957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFsHOxEDMqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ls-n5PN5myU/s320/20081211074957.jpg" border="0" width="320" height="181" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm trying. I feel good about the future. Really, I do. Everything works out in the end, after all. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFsHYFumR0I/AAAAAAAAACE/U_iKANauCz4/s1600/tumblr_l5kyev0c8w1qcbtm4o1_400_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TFsHYFumR0I/AAAAAAAAACE/U_iKANauCz4/s320/tumblr_l5kyev0c8w1qcbtm4o1_400_large.jpg" border="0" width="320" height="215" /></a></div>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-79831606655561592982010-07-22T15:06:00.000-07:002010-07-22T15:06:38.480-07:00I've got half a smile and zero shame,<i>I've got a reflection with a different name...</i><br />
That lyric makes me wish I had a visible alter ego in the mirror who would go by the moniker Violette. She would do all the things I don't, and say all the things I shouldn't- ala Michael Cera's alter ego 'Francois' in "<i>Youth in Revolt</i>".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi1gRV8ZtI/AAAAAAAAABo/vuV69hjgOJU/s1600/Youthinrevolt-MichaelCera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi1gRV8ZtI/AAAAAAAAABo/vuV69hjgOJU/s320/Youthinrevolt-MichaelCera.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Mostly I wish she would smoke constantly, have better jokes and help me apply liquid eyeliner. (It always takes me forever to get it just right.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi63Bo18wI/AAAAAAAAABw/NTm7GELY-sE/s1600/tumblr_l5kde7AXzy1qcxkb2o1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi63Bo18wI/AAAAAAAAABw/NTm7GELY-sE/s320/tumblr_l5kde7AXzy1qcxkb2o1_500_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I recently decided to quit smoking. I was never a pack-a-day-er, but I realized that sooner or later I was going to have to quit for good. Being an oncologist who smokes is like the textbook definition of hypocrite. Or self-defeating. One of those. Maybe both.<br />
So today is day four of not smoking, and it's slightly better than days one, two and three.<br />
<b>The first day</b> I felt nervous, and a little cranky, but overall not too bad.<br />
<b>Day two</b> took a definite turn for the worse, with my patience wearing thin as well as the filter between the <strike>rude</strike> things I think and the <strike>awesome</strike> things that come out of my mouth.<br />
<b>Day three</b> was tough. Not only was I feeling cranky because of the lack of nicotine, but it was a million degrees out and I was walking around downtown Ann Arbor in the art fair sweating. I only like to sweat when I'm working out. That's legit the <i>only</i> time I am okay with sweating. I hate feeling sweaty and gross. I realize it's my bodys' natural reaction to ungodly temperatures, but I'm still not down. The heat and grossness added to my discomfort and I was pretty much a giant grumpapotamous. I feel bad for my boyfriend.<br />
<b>Day four</b> is going much better. I decided to distract myself with work and registering for all my classes next semester. :) I am a giant nerd and get really excited about things like that. I had originally planned to take eighteen credit hours next semester, but due to scheduling crisises (not having the ability to be in two places at one and my absolute refusal to attend a 7 AM Bio class Sunday morning) I am only taking fourteen and a half credit hours. But that is still a full courseload.<br />
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After my five year hiatus from the structured world of school, I am excited to use my brain in new ways and be challenged academically. (See? I told you I was a nerd.) Playing music is great, and I still plan on doing that, but I'm happy to see what else is in store for me. I'll never completely trade in my bass and microphone for a stethoscope and scalpel. But it's okay to have more than one dream.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi_AcVImUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/svhYWczT-fw/s1600/tumblr_kzrjepoPNd1qadlqoo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TEi_AcVImUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/svhYWczT-fw/s320/tumblr_kzrjepoPNd1qadlqoo1_500_large.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-24564342108403708552010-07-07T09:56:00.000-07:002010-07-07T09:56:49.353-07:00South DakotaSouth Dakota confused me. I saw a plethora of billboards, including one slightly suggestive one that read, "Come Ride The McNasty" featuring a covered wagon that had clearly seen better days. But there was what seemed to be an astonishing lack of actual human life. Where exactly <i>are</i> all of these things being advertised? I started to imagine that there were massive underground cities brimming with life and excitement, where everyone lives and the surface is where only tiny troll-like South Dakotans hide out and raise sheep. Because even when we happened upon a gas station to refuel, there never seemed to be an actual city attached to it, the only exception being the Corn Palace.<br />
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The Corn Palace was a building set in a small plaza not unlike a low budget theme park, in which there were no rides, but you could purchase a hat shaped like an ear of corn, or alternatively view an informational film about the corn. Now, I love weird things, especially hats, but these corn hats were neither bizarre enough for me to love or nice enough for my family to consider wearing, so the majority of our group left the CP without a hat. My boyfriend, on the other hand, purchased a cowboy hat at this fine establishment. Now, we're in South Dakota and there's only like, twelve visible people in this whole state anyway, so I suppose it doesn't really matter what you look like, but as my sister Zoe pointed out, he did slightly resemble Hugh Jackman in the hat. (Or as she so eloquently explained, "like the Wolfman from <i>The Matrix!</i>" She's not a film buff.) In any case, by the time we'd left the CP, the hat had grown on me.<br />
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I left South Dakota without finding the underground city, sheep-farming trolls or riding the McNasty.<br />
It was a thoroughly disappointing state.<br />
I'm not going back. For my return trip, I'm going<i> around</i> it. Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-12944561122082683712010-06-25T12:05:00.000-07:002010-06-25T12:05:11.872-07:00Procrastination is the sincerest form of delaying the inevitable.I should be writing work stuff right now. You know, for the making money portion of my life. But the internets are a strange and wonderful place. (And I also have a mosquito bite on the bottom of my foot that's driving me insane. That's not relevant, I just felt like sharing.) So, when I sat down today to dutifully toil away at my keyboard, a photo in my email caught my eye and I was unavoidably.... <b>distracted</b>.<br />
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Then I thought to myself, "<i>Self, you should share this with other people on the internets who maybe haven't seen it yet. And perhaps, they too have an annoying mosquito bite in an uncomfortable spot and this would make them feel better</i>."<br />
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Now, I can't guarantee this will make you feel better, I mean, my mosquito bite still itches, but it may momentarily take your mind off it. This website is...well, it's just straight-up awkward. I think the exact words to leave my mouth upon seeing this picture were, "<b>Holy Aunt Jemima on the pancake box</b>!!"<br />
Enjoy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TCT56Crr9lI/AAAAAAAAABk/gKU3srrL03Q/s1600/570_0_resize-21-150x150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oKsbTe2eotE/TCT56Crr9lI/AAAAAAAAABk/gKU3srrL03Q/s320/570_0_resize-21-150x150.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
What kind of photo is this? Do they display this above the mantle? On Christmas cards? "<i>Happy Holidays from the Buck Nekkids.</i>" And what was the thought process behind this? "Let's go nude for the family photo! Oh.. maybe I should cover up the naughty bits... You know what? Let's use the cats! Then we'll match!" I don't think the cats are really down with this plan either. From the looks on their faces, they are humiliated and know that their reps are completely ruined. <br />
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So, that's my procrastination update for the day. If you would like to ruin your retinas some more, head over to <a href="http://awkwardfamilypetphotos.com/">awkward family pet photos</a> for even more fun. I shall endeavor to update this more frequently. I keep forgetting I started this blog.<br />
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Is anyone reading this? If not, I just spent fifteen minutes typing out a thought process that took less than ten seconds. Bahahahaha...well, if not then I will have something to look back on when the Old Timer's strikes and I can't remember anything. I'll look back and be shocked at myself and my blatant misuse of time.<br />
I look forward to it.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-56642327667548613692010-05-20T10:25:00.000-07:002010-05-20T10:45:58.262-07:00Best Day EverToday is probably one of the most exciting days of my adult life, so far.<br />Did I get engaged, you ask?<br />No.<br />Did I win the lottery?<br />No.<br />Was I accepted to some prestigious university program?<br />Nope.<br />Clearly, if you are asking these questions, you are a normal person.<br />Those are all exciting, adult-ish happenstances.<br />However, this news trumps <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">all </span>of those things.<br /><br />Ready?<br /><br />I am getting a trampoline!!<br /><br />Best. Day. Ever.<br /><br />That is all.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6126886870254384709.post-7277254917088436222010-05-04T17:52:00.000-07:002010-05-04T18:22:17.373-07:00The Perils of Penguin OwnershipI'd like to have a pet penguin, but I hear they are pretty smelly. Actually, this is untrue. The last time I was at the zoo, I <span style="font-style: italic;">smelled</span> that they were smelly. Which was incredibly disappointing for me. I realize all animals have to poop, but penguins are particularly smelly about it. No courtesy air freshener spritz after the deed (what my roommate lovingly calls the "poop-n-spray"), or at least the decency to bury their feces. Nope. Penguins are all like, "HEY! SMELL THAT? THAT WAS ME!" Yes, my little stinky, tuxedo-ed friends, we get it. You are fantastically gifted at dropping a deuce. I felt especially let down because in all the animated films about penguins, specifically, Happy Feet, the penguins look amazingly soft, happy and cuddly. They aren't though. They are smelly, stand-offish and dirty.<br />I wanted a television version.<br />"So, really," my then-boyfriend Tom informed me, "you want an animated penguin for a pet."<br />I agreed and wondered aloud how hard that would be to arrange. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath about acting like an adult, which I chose to very maturely ignore. It turns out, however, that installing holographic penguin material in our townhouse was slightly cost-prohibitive.<br />So I abandoned the penguin quest and started researching pygmy kittens. Kittens that stay tiny forever! They are extremely cute and cuddly (in real life!) and required no holographic installation. But I was foiled again when I ran into two problems: the kittens' price tag and life expectancy. I was waiting tables at the time and making enough money to afford a regular cat (which I didn't own, due to their not staying tiny forever), but the price tags on these kittens were more than my car was worth (which wasn't saying a lot, but still) and they were only expected to live for about five years. As much as I wanted a tiny pocket kitten that I could carry around with me, and shock people by allowing her head to pop out of my clothing unexpectedly, I was also terrible with money. And following through with things.<br />So, after a few weeks of research, I realized that I'd have to sell my car to buy the kitten, and then would have no way to get the kitten home from the airport, and further that the kitten would probably die before the car ever would, I discarded this idea as well. It's probably for the best, as both real and holographic pets need food, love and attention. (What? Even virtual pets need love. I know, because my nano-pet died when I forgot about it when I was ten.) I was almost never home an they probably would have died soon after joining my household and then I would've felt terrible.<br />The moral of this story is that I have always wanted weird, exotic pets, but have never actually owned one. My current boyfriend, Roo, and I are thinking of getting a dog soon, but I'm somewhat concerned about my complete lack of skills as a pet-owner. I'm not even a plant owner. I own electronics. This could be bad. Or it could be awesome, as I plan on teaching our dog impeccable hygiene-manners. Our dog will not be a smelly penguin. We'll teach him the poop-n-spray method.Styrofoamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06834933533392653525noreply@blogger.com3