The Finals are Coming

Here it is.
The week all students dread:
FINALS WEEK.

It's that week in the semester when BOOM everyone shows up again and you're just sitting in class like "I thought everyone had dropped this class".
It's that time when everyone - students and professors alike - are just so tired that everything is funny. Not seems funny. Is funny.
For example, one of my classmates was tossing an object into the air and catching it during one of our classes. Wasn't bothering anyone. Suddenly our professor turns around and does a double take.
"Is that a hard boiled egg?"
My friend and I started laughing hysterically as our classmate just stared at him.
"No. . . "
"What is that?"
"It's lip balm. . ."
"Oh okay."
"Do you have something against hard hard boiled eggs?"
"I really do not like hard boiled eggs."
"Okay. . ."
Our class was not the same that day.

And here is a haiku about finals:
I can't remember
I learned this four months ago
No no no no no

This is not an overreaction.
Trust me, it is not.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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. . .

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.

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. 

I’m Short

I’m short.

I used to want to be tall, but I’ve heard from tall people that it's not that great being tall. 

For instance, jeans just aren't long enough.

. . . Ummm, well then, you can have my problem: even the petite short jeans are about 3-4 inches too long. 

I remember a few years ago I bought a pair of jeans and I went to get them taken up by this Japanese lady who does alterations down the street. I went into her store and stood on the box and she starts laughing at me when she rolled up the ends. 

She's all "Oh you so cute and so short not tall at all" and I'm all "But I'm taller than you!"

It was pretty funny.

But yeah, being tall may be no walk in the park, but being short isn't too awesome either.