A Pinteresting Tumbl of a Day

And this girl went to the midnight showing. Oh yes. Be jealous.

Pin it here (x).

A Pinteresting Tumbl of a Day

If Bud had black fur and we had grass this tall . . . well, that'd be him.
 
 
Reblog it here (x).

Why Newbs Shouldn't Shop with Vets

(Just a note before we begin: I'm talking about newbs here as opposed to n00bs.)

You've just put away the turkey.
The kitchen's cleaned up.
You shuffle to your bedroom and pull your pj's out of the drawer and---
"LET'S GO!"
Someone in your living room is grabbing their purse and running out the door before coming back and getting a binder full of coupons.
You shrug.
Well, okay, you think. How bad can it be?

Oh my giddy aunt.

Let's just say that next year I'm going to sleep Thursday night and I'm not going to wake up until noon on Friday.

My sister is a veteran Black Friday shopper. She's crazy good at getting good deals on like, everything, and that's awesome.

The problem is that I am not. I hit a few stores and then I'm done.

Not so with the Vet.

She spent TWO FULL HOURS in a single store alone! Granted, most of that was probably the line, but still! I wouldn't know what to do with myself in a store for an hour!

I seriously don't know how she does that.

I think she's magic.

We left our house around 7:30 Thursday night and came back Friday morning at about 9.

Never. Again.

Next year, I am going to bed like a normal person on Thursday night and I'm not getting up till noon on Friday.

But, for those of you who do the whole Cyber Monday thing, Pikcal is having an awesome sale: you can get 20% off your order with the promo code "blogcard20". That's off greeting cards, calendars, photo books, you name it!

May your shopping be happier than mine was!

On Medical Conditions. . .

No, I haven't changed my mind and become a nursing major.

I'm still an English major.

Yet this is a unique merging of the two realms.

I don't know if any nurses or doctors have actually seen this, but I have, and it's terrifying enough to me.

And yes, this is sort of a grammar rant.

Alzheimer's Disease

I cannot count how many times I've heard this butchered. I know I have very little to stand on, because I butcher words all the time, but I can say that I've never said this particular word this badly. 

Y'all, it is not "All-timers" Disease.

There is not a T in "Alzheimer's".

There just isn't.

Stop putting it there.

Please.

Diabetes

Okay, I saw this on Tumblr, so there's no telling whether the poster was serious or just being funny, but "diabetes" is one word.

Just one.

It's not "die of beaties".

I realize it kind of sounds like that, but it's all together.

Lactose Intolerance

This one really takes the cake.

I'm not even really sure where that phrase comes from, but it's true.

I have seen this on Google searches.

On Facebook.

On Tumblr.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Granted, on Tumblr they all flipped out, but still.

People, this particular disorder where your body does not properly manufacture lactase and milk makes you gassy and nauseous is not "lack toast and tolerant".

I kid you not.

A "lack toast and tolerant" disorder means that you lack charred bread slices and are a very understanding person and for some reason you are not happy about this state of affairs.

But yeah.

This has been a PSA.

High Five for Friday!

1 ~ Halloween with my friend!

My friend and I had a colossal amount of fun last night.
We only had 3 Trick-or-Treaters, of whom was just the delivery guy (we gave him a few handfuls in a baggie), and one of the kids was just a neighbor kid.
Oh well, we looked cool and had fun.

(In case you can't tell, we watched Doctor Who. She's the Eleventh Doctor, and I'm Amy in an episode I totally have not seen yet.)

2 ~ Friends who get your little quirks.

I have a few friends who really get me.
And they are awesome.
Also, a shout out to the friends who still think I'm crazy: thanks for putting up with me!

3 ~ I had grape juice yesterday.

I know, I know, that's not really a big deal, but when it comes to food, I get excited very easily.
Just ask my mom.
I am a pretty mature person, but if you hand me a juice box. . .
Well, you'll end up with 4 year old me.

4 ~ Candy!

As I said, we only had 3 TOTer's.
And we were prepared for a small army.
Alas, a small army we did not receive.
Oh well, more for us.

5 ~ Cooler weather?

I'll be honest, I'm not really too keen on being cold.
However, I am ready for it to start actually feeling like not August.
It is November, after all.
Get with it, weather.

Confessions: I have a terrible sense of fashion.

I know, I know.

A blogger with no fashion sense.

Sad, but true.

I mean, I can do makeup and stuff, but . . . well, no, because I can't really do hair . . .

I can do makeup.

But I'm more than a little lost when it comes to mixing and matching clothes.

Now my sister's really good at that.

And she has this beautiful, long hair that does whatever she wants it to.

Except that she tries to curl it and it's fine so it doesn't hold a curl, and I used to straighten mine, but it's thick, so it doesn't really hold a straight.

Basically, she's a brunette Rapunzel:

and I'm a blonde Merida.

Anhyoo, my sister's really good at clothes.

She looks cute in just about anything, and can pull off things I never could.

And she can pull off black eye liner.

That makes me just a wee bit jealous.

But I'll gladly admit that I've stolen more than a few ideas from my sister's outfits.

. . . Not at the same time she's wearing them, because that would be a little embarrassing for her, I think, but I have.

She brought the scarf fever to our house.

And the boot fever.

And a few other fevers that haven't quite caught on yet, but give it time.

They will.

But yeah, I'm just not very good at the whole fashion thing.

I could sell you on just about any cosmetic product ever made, but let's just say I'm sorta glad my sister's better at that than me.

Because it's better to get killer deals on cute clothes than mediocre deals on mine.

When "Short" isn't Short Enough

This is not a sponsored post.

Old Navy is not one of my favorite stores.

Or at least, it wasn't until I realized they have the best jeans for me.

They've got different jeans for different body shapes, and that's great.

I love those jeans because they fit perfectly.

Except in one way . . .

I'm 5'2".

I guess their "short" jeans are based on somebody who must be the same size, but must be like, 5'6".

There are literally about 3-4 extra inches.

On a SHORT.

*sigh*

I went there the other day with my mom and sister, and I tried on some jeans that were nearly half-price with the Labor Day sale.

She brought in the size I was about 4 months ago and they were too big! which is awesome . . .

but they were also too long.

She went back for a smaller pair, and I told her that if they had "Hobbit" lengths, that would probably work.

They didn't.

But still.

Also, as a sidenote, I'm too tall to be a Hobbit.

I'm too tall to be a Dwarf.

I'm to short to be a Human.

I'm too short to be an Elf.

Yep, you're lookin' at the cutest Orc there is.

I wonder if they carry Orc-sized jeans. . . ?

Oopsie Daisies

I'm sure we've all had that one moment where we went: 

"Oh. Poop. I did not think that one through."

I know I have, and I'm brave enough to tell you about it.

It's utterly hilarious, but at the same time really . . . not.

So this summer, I was working full time and working out afterwards.

That meant I essentially had 10 hour "work" days.

Needless to say, after that, I'd be tired, and rarely up for silly shenanigans, though I'm generally total game for a good shenanigan.

I was house sitting for a lady I know and watching her dog. He was a really sweet old thing, but nearly blind and almost if not totally deaf.

She had an alarm system - it didn't work on this one specific door - so she didn't use it; it's a pretty safe neighborhood.

Remember that. It's important later.

So every morning I'd let the dog out to do his business in the side yard, and every night I'd do the same thing when I came home.

Thing is, at night, this giant puppy would set off the motion-detecting light. It would turn on then off then on then off ad nauseam. 

It drove me nuts.

Well, on my third or fourth night there, I let the dog out and noticed that the light didn't turn on.

Whatever.

Well, the poor baby's deaf, so I had to go outside to get him; he wouldn't be able to hear me calling for him.

I go out there, all the way out to the end of the yard, and coax him in, and that light still doesn't cut on.

I still don't really care.

As soon as we get inside, the light snaps on.

And stays on.

Yeah, NOW I care.

See,

No, not of rational things that could actually inflict bodily harm.

Of Aliens (yes, capital A), the Flood, krakens, spiders, plesiosaurs, and other such monstrous calamities.

I legitimately prayed to not be the first ten minutes of Supernatural.

Yeah, I was freaking out.

I tried a few switches and decided there was really nothing I could do about it, so I went to bed, thinking I could ignore that infernal flashing outside my windows.

Ha.

Nope.

So I get up - and by this point it's about 12:30, 1 am - and I try the switches again.

None are connected to it.

I go outside to see if there's anything I can put in front of the sensor to make it shut the heck off.

There's not.

By this point, I'm really scared that someone's figured out I was staying there alone with an old, deaf doggie and they were out in the bushes waiting for me to give up and forget to lock the door.

I called my dad - who was 2 blocks away - and start blubbering (not crying, just tired, scared blubbering) about not being able to shut the light off and hence not being able to sleep.

For having been woken up at like, 1 am, he was incredibly gracious about the whole thing.

He offered to come over and check it out, and I figured it couldn't do any harm, so asked him to yes please, please come over, thank you, Daddy.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls in and we begin our investigation.

We tried every. Switch. In. The. House.

Downstairs and upstairs.

Nothing.

By this point, the light seemed permanently on, so I got the brilliant idea of looking at the alarm panel.

See, there's a button there that said "motion".

I figured that maybe if I cycled through it real quick it'd turn it off.

Right. . . 

So, I push the button.

IT ARMS THE SYSTEM.

Yeah, so at this point, I'm feeling utterly defeated and I tell my dad he can go ahead and go home - I don't know the code because she doesn't use the system.

He says okay, goes through the living room to turn off the lights and-----

Now, I'd like to say I was cool and confident and merely went:

Um, no.

Try this on for size:

Yeah, that was the worst ten minutes of my life.

I tried calling her, texting her, punching in common pass codes.

Nothing.

Did I mention that by this point it was about 2 in the morning?

About five minutes into the alarm going off, I wondered "Where are the cops?" but either way they weren't there, so it didn't matter.

It ended up shutting off on its own, so my dad left through the door that doesn't work anyway.

About two minutes after he left, the house phone rings.

IT'S THE LADY.

I answer, and apologize profusely for waking her up so early.

She too was very gracious about the whole ordeal, but then confessed that she wasn't sure if she knew the code either.

Thankfully, she did.

She asked what had happened, and I told her.

Apparently, that light is just possessed, and there's really nothing that can be done about it.

It was about five minutes into the call that I noticed lights at the back of the house.

No sound, just lights.

And being that I was now basically alone, whomever it was could have just slept there, because as we all know:

Anyway, it turned out to be a cop.

Good thing I was still on the phone with the homeowner -- she got me out of a mountain of trouble.

I never did figure out how he was summoned, exactly.

I don't think it was dispatch.

Must've been a neighbor.

Ha, bet they loved me.

Anyway, after he left, the homeowner and I just kind of stood there in shock.

"How long ago did the alarm go off?"

". . . About 20 minutes ago. . ."

Yeah.

Needless to say, I was basically useless on 4-5 hours of not-so-awesome sleep.

And that is the story of how I awakened a neighborhood and learnt the lesson that if you don't know what it does, don't touch it.

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. . .

It's Official: I'm a Bug Murderer

So, I've got a story for y'all.

But first, the back story.

So, I'm a really heavy sleeper.

I've slept through alarms going off, trees falling down in our yard, stuff like that.

However, it takes me a really long time to actually fall asleep.

If I listen to soundtracks of thunderstorms and rivers and stuff, that usually knocks me out, but I either need to be sick and exhausted or listening to something like that to fall asleep.

Well.

Last night, there was this bug - my first guess was a cricket - making a constant, high-pitched droning noise outside my window last night, and it was driving me crazy.

It sounded like it was right there, so I opened my door and slammed it shut really hard.

The noise stopped for a while but then started again.

So I slammed my window shut again, and it stopped and started again, so I figured it was right there.

I really didn't want to get up, but I did, and went out in the living room to see if my dad was still up. He wasn't, but my brother was. He asked what I was doing and I told him about the cricket. He just stared at me and said, "So your plan is . . . what?"

And I says, "To kill it."

So I got a broom and a flashlight, went outside, and sure enough, there it was, about two feet from my window.

I went ahead and killed it mercilessly and went back inside.

My dad was still awake and asked if I had been the one outside with the flashlight. I said yeah, and he asked what I was doing.

I told him, and he laughed at me.

Ha.

Well, at least I was able to sleep.

21 Before 21

So today at 4 AM, I turned 21.

You didn't get up for my birthday?

Oh, it's totes cool; I didn't get up for that, either.

Anyhoo, I've heard of these "[things done] Before [Age of the same numerical value]" things before, and I figured I'd do one for my birthday.

These are in no particular order, save for the first one.

1. met Jesus as my Savior

2. graduated high school

3. published a book

4. been to Mile Zero, where I . . .

5. . . . inadvertently swam with tarpons

6. visited the Statue of Liberty

7. voted in a Presidential election

8. drank pigeon milk (my dad's cologne)

9. performed an amateur amputation 

10. made sushi

11. got a job (and still have the job)

12. got a full ride through college

13. went to the midnight showing of a movie

14. zip-lined

15. whitewater rafted

16. member of two honors societies

17. ran a 5K

18. changed a tire (yes, on the side of the road)

19. melted a plastic container on a stove by accident

20. had a pen-pal in another country

21. been to the Kennedy Space Center

So yeah, Happy Birthday to me! :)

21 certainly makes me no less clumsy . . .

. . . but oh well, nobody saw that.

And this is what I'd like to leave you with:

I know 21 isn't that old in the grand scheme of things, but thinking about it makes me feel kind of old.

I mean, I saw Y2K.

I saw 9/11.

I've seen Mad Cow disease, Avian Bird flu, and Swine flu.

I saw the capture and death of Saddam Hussein and the death of Osama bin Laden.

I've seen the funerals of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher.

I've seen the advent of the iPod, iPhone, and iPad.

I've seen the earthquake in Japan and the tsunami in Indonesia.

I've seen a lot, I think.

But this is really all that matters:

Senioritis

This is a Public Service Announcement.

Many college students suffer from senioritis.

This debilitating illness has many symptoms, but the most common are fidgeting in class, daydreaming while having purposed to finish homework, boredom, and itchy, watery eyes that mimic the symptoms of spring fever. 

Senioritis doesn't only affect those in their fourth year of college: it can affect those as fresh and new as those in their first year.

But this doesn't have to be your reality.

To counteract the symptoms, pop in a classic Disney movie. 

Take them bowling.

Feed them.

Offer any and all distractions.

They'll know instinctively when it is time to return to the grind.

Senioritis is real.

Don't let it be you. 

Youtube Crushes

Okay, these are not legitimate crushes, but oh lawd they is funny.

Ever heard of DJ Flula?

Well, you should watch some of his stuff, because it's hilarious.

He's this German DJ who - when he comes into contact with weird English idioms that he doesn't understand - he gives it his best shot. 

For instance, there's the Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Happy as a Clam.

Skeletons in the Closet.

Proof is in the Pudding.

Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet.

And my personal favorite: the Party Pooper.

(A friend made me watch that in the middle of the university library -- my other friend working at the checkout desk thought I was having a stroke. It's really hard not to laugh, y'all.)

His broken English is adorable and hysterical, and the 'outside opinion' is priceless.

And Olan Rogers.

If you have not heard of him, I pity you.

A friend of mine posts a picture of him every Monday, and when you watch this, you'll see why.

His facial expressions and snarkiness are to die for.

He also talks about the time he took his lady out -- that's pretty awesome, too.

But yeah.

Those are my Youtube crushes.

An Unexpected Passenger

So I was driving the other day and---

What?

NO! 

I wasn't carjacked!

No, but I did have an unexpected passenger.

I was driving along - and thank God I was at a stop sign because that could very well have caused an accident - I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I thought it was somebody on the sidewalk, so I just turned to look and-----

I'll take the opportunity to say this: ever see a spider on your windshield and you have to turn on your windshield wipers to see if it's on the outside or the inside?

Well, this beauty wasn't on the windshield, it was on my window, and it wasn't a tiny spider, either.

It was this huge roach.

I screamed and probably made one of those movie-scream faces.

Probably looked a lot like this:

But I dunno; I couldn't see me.

The person pulling onto the road I was on could.

Needless to say, I got that roach out of there.

And the person let me out, because they probably thought I was cray cray.

Which I'm totally not.

Just sayin'.

A Throwback

So last night my dad and I went to see Jurassic Park in 3D.

They did a pretty good job of it, I think.

But it was funny, because I'd forgotten just how 90's it was. 

The clothes, the hair, the giant huge loud clunky computers. 

Afterwards, we sat in the credits and tried to remember how old it was.

I thought it was a year or two older than me.

Nope.

1993.

A year younger.

Ouch.

I've just really been having throwbacks lately.

You know what I found on Youtube the other day?

Entire episodes of Legends of the Hidden Temple.

I loved that show.

Loved it.

And you know what app I got not too long ago?

A Tamagotchi app.

Oh yes.

I had one of those.

I actually still have it, but as I recall, those things were pretty needy, so I don't really have time for one right now, given all the stuff I've got going on.

After the movie last night, my dad and I went to Cheeburger Cheeburger, and they were playing 50's music.

And it was then and there I decided that I want to listen to some songs of Chubby Checker.

That'll be Summer Project #3.

Confessions: I've Actually Never Had Coffee.

I'm starting a new series, Confessions.

I figured I might as well start with the most shocking.

So yeah, I've never actually had coffee before.

And these are some of the looks I get when I say that:

Actually, that's probably all the reactions I've gotten.

Yeah. . .

I just . . . never really wanted to have coffee.

I love the smell of coffee beans, but not when it's actually brewed.

And I don't need it in the mornings, because once I'm up, I'm up.

So you wake me up at 3 AM and you had better have something really cool for me to do or I will hate intensely dislike you for a very long time, probably proportional to how many hours of sleep you robbed me of.

Anyhoo, yeah, I've never had coffee.

And I don't plan to, either.

And the reason why is because when I was a kid, I had to read this book, Across Five Aprils. 

It's about the Civil War, but there's only one part I really remember: the kid's mom loved coffee, but for one reason or another, they couldn't buy it, and she went through this awful withdraw and could not function, and I remember thinking I never wanted to be that dependent on something that I wouldn't be able to function if I couldn't have it.

Which rules out a lot of things for me.

Oh well.

And I remember a lot of my friends saying they never drank coffee till they got to college, but I'm almost a senior, and I still haven't had a drop.

I mean, I suppose it's kind of like tea: I just haven't found a flavor I might like.

Whatevs.

What coffee confessions do you have?