In Defense of Those Who Drive as a Madman

People will say that I am a scary person to ride with.

That is totally not true.

What people don't understand is that I drive with purpose.

I drive to get from Point A to Point B with minimal distance in between.

Even when I'm not in a hurry, I strive to drive with purpose, because I don't want to be that person I'd yell at if I were trying to get somewhere.

Not that I yell at people. . .

Because I totally don't. . .

But I kinda view going slow(er than the rest of the traffic -- you may well be doing the speed limit, but hey, you're still going slow) as rude and selfish behavior. It's one thing if you're in the right lane.

That's where slower traffic belongs.

But if you're in the left lane, and you're riding even with traffic in the right lane, you're trapping everyone behind you.

Think about it.

Somebody could be going to a job interview.

Somebody could be trying to catch a flight.

Somebody could be going to a doctor's appointment.

Somebody might have to pee.

And for crying out loud, if your cell phone distracts you,

GET OFF OF IT.

This has been a PSA.

If you won't learn from your own mistakes. . .

. . . at least learn from someone else's.

Namely, MINE.

Okay, freshmen, listen up: no, you don't want to cram your first two years full of gen-ed classes because you don't want to be slammed with whatever classes are required for your major. 

You'll go crazy.

But don't slack on your gen-eds . . . Like I did.

Namely, I was really good in taking my foreign languages while they were still fresh from high school.

I waited about four years to take my math.

I waited about five years to take my sciences.

Ten out of ten would not recommend!

So if you're one of those stubborn people who doesn't learn from your own mistakes, at least learn from mine.

(Oh yes, and I also have to take speech; ironically after I've given the bulk of my class presentations.)

Creatures of Habit

Long story short:

my place of work has a mailbox right next to the mailbox for the dentist's office next door.

I walk into work this morning and end up stopping to stare at where the mailboxes used to be.

Key word USED.

Past tense.

Somebody moved them.

Normally that wouldn't be such a big deal. 

Except for one little detail that I'm not sure was missed or deliberately ignored.

They switched the mailboxes around.

Let that sink in for a moment.

. . . sigh. . .

We're all in for some confusing mail calls. . .

Ramblings of a Fangirl: Dumb People in Comics

Y'know, you've just gotta have a certain respect for people in comic books.

No, no, no, I don't mean the main characters; the heroes.

No, I mean the citizens. 

Yeah, them.

The people that can't distinguish between Clark Kent and Superman because of a pair of glasses.

. . . Really, people?

They're the same size.

Have the same hairstyle.

Seem to be nearby a whole lot.

And are never seen in the same room. . .

Granted, not everyone knows Clark that well.

But what about Lois???

She's Clark's reporter buddy and has only been rescued by Superman Lord knows how many times.

You'd think she - the brilliant Daily Planet reporter - would have pieced two and two together.

(On that note, why do we put two and two together? Why not one and one? Anyhoo. . .)

And then there's the people of Gotham.

They have a bit more of an excuse for not recognizing Bruce Wayne as Batman, especially in The Dark Knight, because Bruce you can easily understand. Batman just sounds like, "WGGG RRRR AYYYY?!"

Not exactly conducive to a  fruitful interrogation.

However!

Bruce randomly gets beat up - badly - the same night Batman disappears . . . 

And nobody makes that connection.

And he's a hermit for eight years. Batman is also MIA for eight years.

And nobody makes the connection.

Then Bruce comes out of hiding. Batman also comes out of hiding.

And nobody makes the connection.

. . .

The citizens of Metropolis have zero excuses, but the people of Gotham just might have one. . .

Just how much fear gas did Scarecrow pump into that city sewer?

Technology Woes and Whoas

I've had my Blackberry for Lord only knows how long.

I had a flip phone before that, and I really wanted a full keyboard for texting, since I don't really talk much on it.

When our contracts ran up, my dad upgraded me to a Blackberry.

He'd had one of the old-school ones, with the wheel on the side and all. Very hard to play BrickBreaker with. (The newer ones are better for that in case you're wondering.)

It's not a touchscreen, but I didn't want one. Still kind of don't.

But I was afraid I'd have to get a new phone because mine started glitching and freezing and generally acting buggy and such.

A few days ago, I decided to change my alarm tone to the Ghostbusters Theme.

. . . Don't ask. ANYTHING is better than preloaded stuff. You know that.

I plugged it into my laptop, but it wasn't even showing on the hardware. It was charging, and that was it.

I figured it couldn't hurt to try downloading the Blackberry Manager, since it was kinda, y'know, made for that.

Well.

Well.

Well.

Well.

Turns out there was an update for the OS.

Like, a big time update.

Like, 5.0.3 to 6.0.7 or something.

Yeah.

Oh. My. Gosh.

It's like having a new phone, I swear.

Burnt Hair: It's Actually Funnier than It Looks

So, if you've seen this, you know what I'm talking about.

If you haven't, enjoy:

Now, this is the part where I say something snarky about this, but I'm actually not going to.

I will say that having a heated tool in your hair for ten seconds is a rather long time and it's not a good idea, but that's about it.

But I've actually been in her boat before.

A friend - who shall remain nameless for the sweet sake of dignity - was drying my hair once with a  hair dryer and a round brush.

She was doing everything right as far as I can tell.

Suddenly, there was this AWFUL stench, and my first thought was "Oh no, my hair's broken her hair dryer".

Nope.

She pulled the brush away, and a chunk of hair came with it.

Omigosh it STANK.

She was horrified.

Now, I've gotta say that it was from one of the bottom layers in the back.

I mean, it was really no big deal.

I think she was expecting this:

She got this:

I thought it was hysterical.

Seriously, it was so funny.

I kept telling her it was fine and that no one would be able to tell, but I couldn't get over the fact it had happened. 

I mean, that's the stuff of movies, right?

It couldn't possibly happen in real life, right?

See video above.

Though, I do have to admit . . . that's the second time a round brush has had a part in destroying my hair. . .

Ugh . . . Morning Classes . . .

I'm sure I've ranted about morning classes before.

And there may be a day when I don't rant about morning classes.

But, in all seriousness, scheduling classes is a bloomin' nightmare.

You've gotta make sure nothing overlaps in time slots.

You've gotta make sure you actually need it.

You've gotta make sure you've got time to do the whole "lunch" thing, which -though seriously underrated - is vital to not passing out in class. From hunger.

And - for USCB students anyhow - you've gotta make sure you're not giving yourself 10 minutes to make a 30 minute trip, as we have two campuses. 

But then there's the 8 AM classes.

Also known as "the room you sit in whilst you wake up mentally".

Unless it's Crossfit aerobics, which will kick your studious tush.

I've taken 8 AM classes before, but only two days a week, so you have the next day to sleep in and recover.

This semester, I've got my first two Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes.

And all five days . . . I have 8 AM classes.

Why?

Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

And you know what the worst of it is?

Waking up three minutes before my alarm goes off.

The Capitalization of I

A good friend of mine actually thought of this and vocalized it before I did, but it's a good point.

But really, why do we capitalize I?

It's just a pronoun.

We don't capitalize he.

Or she.

Or they.

So why I?

And it's just a letter.

We don't capitalize "a".

This has actually been bothering me for some time, so y'all have got any ideas, I'd love to hear them.

Silence is Boring

Okay, I dunno about y'all . . . but I can't sleep with just silence. 

I can't. I've tried. And tried very hard.

People are like "Just don't think about anything".

I . . . I can't. 

Therein lies le problemo.

I went through a phase where I needed a CD of a thunderstorm.

Our CD player broke, so that ended up being a quiet . . . year or so.

Then when I bought my iPad, it was back on.

Plus, I had bought a beach sound, a river sound, and owls and crickets. 

Works great.

I love it.

It usually takes me about two hours to fall asleep on my own.

And that's on a good day.

When I have that stuff playing . . . it's about thirty minutes.

Am I the only one who has this issue?

A Crazy, Well-Dressed Hitchhiker and Morning Classes

For my technical writing class we have to split into groups and study traffic circles. I'm not really sure why traffic circles, but that's what he said.

He wanted drive through videos, pictures of the signs and pictures of the markings on the road.

After class Wednesday, my group and I went to get the signs, but we didn't have time to get out and get pictures.

I said I'd get them Thursday. I ran out of time, so I decided to get up early on Friday and get them before class.

Yeah. Right.

Anyone who knows me knows that I can stay up literally all night if I want or need to.

But I am not a morning person.

Regrettably, once I'm up, I'm up, so you wake me at 3 AM . . . you had better have something really cool for me to do, or I'll hate dislike you intensely for the rest of the day.

Anyhoo, I set my alarm for 6:15 AM.

It went off, and I reset it for 6:45.

It went off again, and I reset it for 7.

Then I got up.

Slowly.

I didn't have time to get the pictures before class, so I went to get them after.

Being the ditz I am, I sort of got lost looking for it.

But then I found it.

Yay!

So I got out and ended up standing in the middle of the (EMPTY) road snapping pictures with my iPad.

Needless to say, I got some pretty weird looks from the drivers, who must've wondered why some random girl was running around a traffic circle.

"She looks too clueless to be a contractor. . ."

And it was so cold.

So cold.

I couldn't feel my face!

Also, I've decided that I am never again taking 8 AM classes across the board. 

Not unless I have to.

Because then I will have grey hair by the time I graduate.

(No students or drivers were harmed during the events of this post. Everyone was just very cold.)

Words We Should Spell Differently: English Place Names

As most of us here speak English, this could be a very long list, but it'll be short today.

And since I actually took a "Development of the English Language" course last year, I'm sort of an authority on this.

Sort of.

And it goes without saying that this is by no means scholarly.

So don't be citing this in your English papers at 3 AM, mmk?

English is really weird.

I'm an English major; I know this for a fact.

I'm not going to go into why things are spelled so strangely, but part of it has to do with the Great Vowel Shift.

Please. Don't. Ask.

Anyhoo, I got to thinking today about Worcester, Massachusetts  Sir Leicester Dedlock, and Richard of Gloucester.

Now you know how you pronounce those?

Wooster, Layster, and Gloster, respectively.

Ummm . . .

People (usually) hate it when others are redundant.

Isn't extra letters kind of redundant if they make the same sound?

Only you can stop redundancy.

Let the letters raise their voices, and speak for themselves.

My (Mis)Adventure in the Realm of Cuisine - Part II

So. 

Y'all thought I would only have one (Mis)Adventure?

Nope.

Ha.

NOPE.

And here's the whammy - this one's a twofer.

So, me and my mom tried to make Peasant Bread.

It's supposed to rise, be punched down and separated, then rise again.

Well, the second time, it didn't rise. Like, at all.

We were stumped. 

It tasted perfectly fine, but it looked funny.

Remember that - it's important later.

So, the day after that, we tried making Amish Country Bread.

Pretty similar, all things considered.

So I was measuring and combining things when I realized we didn't have enough salt in one container. I asked my mom to get another one down since my hands were full. She asked how much I needed, and I said three tablespoons. She kinda made a face and was like "That's a lot" and she looked at the recipe.

Well.

All the measurements but one had a "t" or a "T" with them, so I thought they were all tablespoons. 

I learned to cook thinking "T" was tablespoon, and "tsp" was teaspoon.

My mom started laughing.

"Sissy," quoth she, "you know, you're a smart cookie . . . But sometimes you're really clueless."

(And she's right.)

Apparently, "T" can stand for tablespoon, and "t" can stand for teaspoon.

I assumed it was poor internet grammar.

And the thing is, I was measuring them all out with a tablespoon and since I needed three teaspoons of it, that would've been one tablespoon.

Well, we remembered that right after we poured it back.

Yep.

And while we were measuring, we decided to make sure one packet of yeast was two tablespoons, as we assumed it had been the day before.

Alas, it was not.

Therefore, the bread the day before had not risen a second time because there was only enough oomf for once. 

Yes.

This is me in the kitchen.

But everything still tastes good, so really.

(I FINALLY FOUND A USE FOR THIS!!!!!)

The Day After the End of the World . . . and Walmart

So the world didn't explode, or melt, or swarm with Flood or zombies, or viruses, or have the animals go cray cray.

Hm. Fancy that.

Well, for those of us over the age of 13, we've survived the "End of the World" twice:

Y2K and 12/21/12

Yay us!

Our kids will never believe us . . .

On a similar note, what the heck is up with Walmart registers never being open when you need them?

I'm not dissing Wally World or anything, I'm just asking.

I mean, wouldn't that drive down your customer loyalty?

But come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen any retail store with all their registers open.

That should change.

I mean, really.

Who wants their customers to stand in line for 20 minutes holding a heavy box of firewood?

I wouldn't.

Let me drive this bus a while . . .

Always So Much Else

Oi . . .

There's always so much else to do when you have two papers due tomorrow . . .

Things like house work, work, reading for other classes . . .

And here I am blogging, because, hey - that needs to be done, too. 

So here are some appropriate gifs:

And finally . . . 

Fool me once . . .

Okay Beaufort girlies, listen up: I don't know where you do your shoe shopping, and on some level I don't really care, but I've got to tell you about this one store (which is kind of ironic, because I don't plan on actually naming this store). 

There's this store in Beaufort that has really cute shoes. And at good prices, too.

No, it's not Wal-Mart.

However, something weird happened the last two times I was there, probably within the same two weeks.

Allow me to start at the beginning: I wanted some brown flats, so when I saw a cute pair, I got the box that said 9 down because I (usually) wear a 9.

I tried both the shoes on, and they both fit.

That would be a given, except for one small factoid: one was a 9, the other was an 8 1/2. 

And my feet are normal, by the way. 

I put the bottoms together, and they looked exactly the same to me.

I figured the 8 1/2 was a misprint and took the box to the register to check out. 

They wouldn't sell it to me because (logically) if I had two sizes, somebody else had two sizes, and if they returned one, they'd need the other.

I ended up leaving with 8 1/2's (which fit perfectly fine), and thought it was a freak occurrence. 

Wrong. 

I went today for some black flats and wanted a 9. 

Once again, there was a 9 and an 8 1/2!

And once again, I ended up leaving with an 8 1/2!

So, for those of y'all in Beaufort . . . check your shoes before you buy them!

(Also because they might be two different - but similar - styles. That's happened to me before too. And yes, that was at Wal-Mart.)

NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I am sooooooooooooooooooooo excited!!!

Last year, I fell epicly short of 50,000 words by about 47,500 words.

Yeah . . .

But this year I have new hope!

No, not Star Wars I/IV. 

Hope that I'll get ahead in my school work and crank out a 50,000+ word novel!

Bipolar Beaufort Weather

I don't know about the rest of the country, but isn't it a pretty good rule of thumb that when it's cold in the morning, it'll still be cold in the afternoon?

Doesn't that help you dress appropriately for the day?

Beaufort isn't like that.

I think Beaufort's a woman, and she's bipolar. 

It was like, 60 degrees this morning, so I wore a knitted wool top, a scarf (more for the astetics than weather), and sneakers. 

Um . . . 

Lo and behold, at noon, it's about 85 degrees.

. . . What?!

It's Official: I'm Allergic to Cats

sniff

Yup. It's official.

I'm allergic to cats.

That's rather unfortunate, because I'm currently house-sitting a dog (who doesn't bother my nose and sinuses) and a cat (who is wreaking HAVOC).

And cats are cute.

And the long haired ones are beautiful.

I can be in the same house with them, even the same room.

But God forbid I try to pet one.

Oh my . . .

See . . . I don't mind sneezing so much . . . but I can't breathe very well, not around the cat. And she was practically on my lap for about 15 minutes.

And when  I do sneeze, I have this rather obnoxious sneeze.

Expectation:

Reality:

sniff

Yeah . . .

My (Mis)Adventure in the Realm of Cuisine

This summer, my mom, sister, and brother went on a mission trip to Ukraine.
That left me and my dad home alone.

Um, no, really, it wasn't exactly like that.

The two main issues were laundry - which I can do - and cooking, which I can also do.

Here's the problem with cooking, though:

I really like food.

Japanese food . . .

Mexican food . . .

American food . . .

Italian food . . .

You name it, chances are I might like it.

We had tacos some nights. Went fine.

We had stir-fry. Perfect.

We had spaghetti with alfredo dipping sauce like Olive Garden's . . . Um . . . PROBLEM.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize my error in its entirety until about . . . oh, I don't know, four days ago.

So, soon after they left, I started looking for recipes online.

That's dangerous, just sayin'.

I looked in my mom's bookmarks first, and I saw she had bookmarked Olive Garden's recipe for their alfredo sauce.

I was shocked.

Why had she never made this before; we love their alfredo sauce!

I decided to rectify this "wrong" and set out to make it.

My dad and I thought it turned out pretty good. It was, well, white, and Olive Garden's isn't, but I figured they probably used butter in the restaurant version, even though there was none called for in the recipe I saw.

It tasted almost exactly the same, though, so we just forgot about it.

A few days ago, we went to Olive Garden and me and my mom inspected the dipping sauce.

Then she asked me a question.

"Did you use egg whites or egg yolks?"

"Egg whites."

"Em . . . are you sure that's what you were supposed to use?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I printed it out and was looking at it the whole time."

"That's just weird, because usually you use egg yolks in sauces."

We sorta forgot about that . . .

. . . Until a few days later.

My mom was looking for a recipe and chanced upon the alfredo sauce.

"Hey Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Um . . . that alfredo sauce?"

"Uh-huh?"

"It calls for egg yolks . . ."

. . . Oops . . .

However!

This calls for a second shot!

The Dark Knight Rises and Man of Steel ~ My Thoughts

Last Friday, the lastest Batman movie hit theaters.

Last Saturday, me, my brother, and my dad went to go see it.

Not in IMAX - they were sold out - but that was okay: we had a pretty big screen. Besides, maybe the Hobbit will be in IMAX . . . ?

So, first, the movie itself: EPIC.

I LOVED IT.

Definitely gonna have to have a Batman marathon someday after the DKR hits shelves.

I'd give it a 9.5/10.

(The missing .5 is for a personal preference, nothing huge.)

Now . . . onto the more important topic . . .

The Man of Steel . . .

Meh.

I'm not a Superman kind of gal.

Sorry Caroline.

Haha, nope!

I love Batman.

I love Young Justice.

I love Thor (and Loki.)

I love Captain America.

I love Iron Man.

I love the Avengers (read: Coulson).

But I just really can't get into Supes, even though I did watch the entire Animated Series last year.

What really got me, though, was the music they used for the trailer.

Oh. My. Gosh.

This is where I have to interject something about myself.

I am a complete soundtrack nerd. 

I have over a hundred of them, and I can generally identify the movie they came from within the first thirty seconds.

So, picture this.

I'm sitting the theater, yeah?

Watching previews, right?

All of a sudden, I hear really, really familiar music . . .

And some mournful woman singing (or maybe a choir boy).

I say to myself, "I've heard this before".

Not FIVE seconds later, it hits me: it's from Lord of the Rings.

Lord of the Rings.

DID YOU HEAR ME?!

I SAID LORD OF THE RINGS!

WHO ON EARTH USES MUSIC FROM LORD OF THE RINGS FOR A SUPERMAN TRAILER?!

You know what I think?

I think the person responsible for finding music for that trailer totally dropped the ball and picked the first thing he could find!

I mean . . . really?

*sigh.*