WHO GAVE THIS CHILD A GUN?

Finally it's almost November.  That's really the only reason I've been looking forward to Halloween, for it means the start of November is the next day and that's my favorite month.  I love everything about Thanksgiving and since we live in America we start celebrating the Christmas season basically tomorrow as well... SO COMMERCIALIZED but I like Christmas lights and making cookies and the smell of snow and presents (I'm honest, not greedy).  It is ironic I like Thanksgiving because I don't eat turkey, but there is a product on the market called Tofurky and it's not nearly as bad as it sounds.  In fact, I think it's delicious and even better tasting.  I can picture most people reading this saying out loud, "It's not the same thing".  Whatever.  It tastes good in my mouth.

One of my teachers asked us all what we were going to be for Halloween and no one said anything because I'm pretty sure no one is going out in this weather.  I think most cities even around here have officially postponed Halloween which kinda sucks in my opinion because I just want to focus on Thanksgiving.  Three weeks from tomorrow.  Craziness.  It's weird because I can barely remember any costumes I dressed up in during my childhood.  Again, I have an extremely poor memory.  Halloween was considered a big deal when we were younger though.  We would go to my Uncle Tim and Aunt Cathy's house (her birthday is today too!) and they would go all out the party every year.  I remember being very scared that night because my sibs and I were among the youngest ones there, as it was mainly adults.  And these adults were very much dressed up.  My mom would make me sit next to witches and shit and that may be why to this day I'm not a huge fan of the whole ordeal.  Plus one year I seem to have been dressed very psycho-like.

As if you can't tell, I'm a clown and yes, that is a gun in my hand.  This is not ok.  How did the person taking this photo not tell me to put that down?  Was I carrying this the whole night?  Did I pretend to shoot people?  And why is my face like that?  It looks like I just took major pleasure in attacking anti-clown protestors.  I will ignore the fact that I didn't seem to need a mask and I could simply smile as hard as my cheeks would let me and it would be just as unsettling.  I hope I didn't trick or treat like this.  No wonder I never had any friends to go with, after this year the parents of my friends probably decided to let me be on Halloween night.  The good thing about seeing me in this costume is realizing my parents knew how to economize their money in regards to costumes.  I think we must have had some type of rotation system going on because I believe this is the year before.

Tom went the more conventional route of swapping the gun for the big red nose, but for that there are clearly personal side effects.  Compare my face to his and tell me I didn't have more fun.

xxxx

A

"Oh! Cinderella?" No, I'm a Pirate..

For someone who isn't crazy about fall and is less than thrilled about October in general, I celebrated with festivities pretty much the entire weekend.  Like I wrote previously, I did the whole haunted house thing Friday night, chilled with Mack most of the day Saturday (completely avoiding my epidemiology project), attended Jay and John's Halloween bash that evening, and spent yesterday carving arguably the third worst pumpkin out of like the 10 people in the room.  Jenna and I went all out for our costumes for the party and were hoping it wasn't going to be like some parties that say "wear a costume if you'd like" and there's one person who sticks out like a sore thumb.  We did not want to be those phalanges, but we said YOLO.

Luckily a good portion of the group did follow suit and dressed up amusingly.  

Pirate (or Cinderella in Rags) and John Donkey Democrat

The fun that I had Saturday night outweighed the regret I had the following morning of choosing to end my night drinking the Jungle Juice they provided.  Last night I saw "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", and if you haven't read the book you should.  The movie did a great job of following the book but I do sort of wish they chose an American actress to play the role of Sam, the American high school student.  Emma Watson is beautiful and a great actress but I kept hearing her accent come up.  It could have been because I was sort of looking for it and therefore just created it.  Seeing the movie was a nice break from remembering being admonished by my father for having to drive back to Cleveland in Hurricane Sandy this morning.  It's funny because I was getting yelled at before the actual occurrence of me driving to school even happened.  So I was just a mess most of last night because of that and I was so tired and on edge and all round not good company.  I will be so grateful when this day is over and I can sleep for hours on end.  I'm currently very sleep deprived as you can probably tell, I'm switching ideas every other sentence.  

One more idea switch, I hate self check-out lines at stores.  Those do not save time, I don't care how long the line is.  We used one last night at Wal-Mart, and I offered to bag Connor's purchases for him after he scanned them because I am a superb and thoughtful girlfriend.  Worst.  Idea.  Ever.  After three items I caused the "Please Wait for Assistance" screen and loud verbal message to pop up and we just waited till it went away.  Then the screen popped up like two more times throughout the transaction.  It shouldn't be as hard as they make it.  I'm just putting the stuff in a bag, why do I have to set it down first so it gets weighed.  It's all just a sloppy system that I never want to deal with again.  I'm pretty sure Connor doesn't want me to deal with it again either, mainly when he's with me.  

Happy Monday and endless rain should cancel classes.

xxxx

A

I Wish I Had My Sword Last Night

I completed my main goal for October: Attending a Haunted House.  A truck full of myself and 8 other people headed to Ghost Lake about 45 minutes away and enjoyed shitting our pants in a number of haunted houses.  They were actually pretty sweet, there were like seven different attractions/houses/mazes, and I do not understand how I can yelp as high pitched as I do.  I want to be able to do that on command because it's just this shrill of a shriek and it's seriously so high I don't understand how it gets up there.  If I wasn't me I'd be very annoyed by myself. The houses got progressively scarier depending on what we all talked about while waiting in the lines to actually go through them.  For example, after the first two we were discussing how "easy" it'd be for a murder rampage to occur.  He/she just dresses up as a scary person (mask, makeup, dark outfit) and hides in the house, stabs one at a time, and if they yell it's all part of the environment.  No suspicions.  Until people stop coming out of the houses.  But no one really stands at the exit, they only check tickets at the entrance.  The only dudes hanging out the end are the ones who chase you out with chainsaws.  And I forget who yelled it after the first clown maze, it might have been Bryant exclaiming, "DON'T RUN FROM THE CHAINSAWS THAT'S WHEN THEY'LL CHASE YOU".  Meanwhile I see Rakim sprinting in circles trying to avoid the chainsaw man.  Nice.

The scariest part of the night came during the last attraction which was an old ass roller coaster that they ran in the pitch dark.  This was scary for all the wrong reasons.  I think it's the oldest wooden coaster in existence and for that I did not think I would be alive at the end of it, based on the noises it was making alone.  Parris lost his iPhone on the coaster.  We think he left it in the seat and then someone else picked it up.  AKA: stole it.  Amazingly iPhones have that sick feature of locating one another, so Brenna plugged his info into her phone and we were actually able to track where the iPhone was going.    As if it had a life of its own.  So of course we followed it down the darkest of dark roads and cornfields, the perfect setup for a 21st Century ;Children of the Corn' horror film.  So here we all are stuffed like sardines in this SUV tracking the locations of his lost iPhone down freaky roads and Rakim and Connor are making a list out loud of whose going to be murdered first in the setup.  I still resent them for murdering me off pretty close to first because I was the "scene vegetarian character".  Rude.
We pulled over where the iPhone supposedly stopped moving and a couple of the boys searched around the houses nearby, not looking suspicious at all for 1:30 am.  Somehow Rak saw the phone on the other side of the road blinking in the grass.  The supposed thieves must have thrown it out the window when they realized they were dealing with the wrong 9 jacked-up-on-fear people.  Happy ending to a long, long night.

Tonight Jay and John are having a halloween party and I will be utilizing one of Mackenzie's old dance costumes because I am cheap and they're cute.  Plus they are ridiculously expensive and my parents were like PLEASE GET MORE USE OUT OF THEM.  I think I'm going as a pirate.  My mom was helping with my costume and I asked if she had a sword I could take.  In my head I'm picturing a light weight, smaller sized one that  I can easily attach to a belt and just have as an accessory.   She got really excited because she did indeed have a sword in her closet (why?) so she thought she could help. Um, my mom doesn't mess around.

There is no way I'm taking this with me because I felt too dangerous flailing it around even sober.  Add people in a drunken stupor to the environment and I do not want to be responsible for anything involving my weapon.  It is heavy and intense and looks like it came right out of Middle Earth.  And my dad said he wouldn't let me take it with me even if I wanted to.

xxxx

A

Did Your Dad Buy Your Lexus Too?

I had full intention of writing a blog last night but when it came down to it I decided I couldn't be bothered to type since I had been on my laptop for what felt like the whole freaking day.  So I VIDEO blogged.  Woo!  Then I spent 25 minutes attempting to upload it onto my actual blog post because nothing was working.  Ultimately, I went through the trouble of getting my YouTube account back up and put it on there...then linked my YouTube link to my blog.  So many failures involved.  It wasn't loud enough and I don't know how to work YouTube channels and it all just looked stupid.  Why can't I just upload my damn video straight on my blog I DO NOT KNOW.  I thought I was saving time by making a video last night and I ended up wasting 150% more time by trying to figure out a video on blogger.

The video was a straight up 3 minute rant about this girl I was checking out at the library.  Checking her books out, not her bod.  A little box on the library computer screen popped up saying "DO NOT LET HER CHECK BOOKS OUT SHE OWES $92 IN FINES".  That's not verbatim but more or less it was the situation.  I kindly relayed this message to her and said if you owe more than fifty bucks you can't check books out.  She's all sassed up and sayin, "I'm pretty sure I've never checked books out at the library so I don't know how those fines have even aquired."  WELL HUNNY THEY DID.  I went back to get my supervisor and he told her that he can override the issue and she can still check books out she'll just have to pay the fine before she graduates.  Because her account was on the screen I could tell she was a senior so I highly doubted she had never checked books out before anyways.  Plus, I can see what the fines were for on the screen.  She asked my supervisor so politely what the fines were for and he told her it was for some books and movies that she never returned freshman year.  Of course, when my somewhat-attractive-for-an-older-man and chiseled and tan supervisor tells her she has fines she laughs and suddenly remembers.  But when I, the very responsible yet young looking library assistant, tell her she has fines that she needs to pay to get her new books she thinks I'm full of shit and don't know what I'm talking about.  Newsflash Gretchen Weiners wanna be, I DO.

As if I wasn't already annoyed enough, and clearly showing it with my 'If you talk anymore I'll need a pen to gouge my eyes out' look, she proceeded to tell us that she will simply have her dad write a check for the fine and bring it back next week.  Your dad?! You're a senior in college!   Ok, I understand that we are college students in a time of economic hardship.  Most of us rely on our parents for some financial assistance.  Some more than others.  For example, I only rely on my parents for the small payments, like my apartment rent...and car insurance...and car repairs... ok and food (RARELY) if I end up putting too much in my cart that I can't afford.  If I came to my parents to pay for a fine that I aquired on my own over not returning books or movies, they would tell me to figure it out on my own and sell my body if I must.  Then my mom would laugh because she knows I wouldn't last a day in that field.  
xxxx
A

Is Anything Sacred Anymore?

I knew this day would come.  I knew it I knew it I knew it.  And it's here.  I was having such a great day too.  Extremely uneventful, yet highly productive.  I couldn't fall asleep last night after laying in bed for like 2 hours, probably because I was having an intense text conversation with C so my phone was vibrating my mattress every few minutes.  I was having like mad mood swings from it too.  First I was just annoyed, then I was pissed off and upset, then I was thinking how I'm blowing this out of proportion and exaggerating my feelings (which is almost always the case).  Sometimes I try so hard to just stop saying things because I know I should just end the conversation where it is but I think my pride gets in the way.  NO I AM GOING TO BE THE LAST PERSON TO SAY SOMETHING AND I WILL BE RIGHT ABOUT.  He'll literally say, "Ok I know, you're right".  And I'll still have to be like, "I know you know.  I just said it because it's true".  Like, wtf am I even saying now?  Was that necessary?  Is he even taking me seriously on the other end of this text message?  The next morning I look back and I wonder what I was even getting angry about in the first place.  Note: This is not me agreeing with all the guys who say girls are crazy and are never pleased.  This is me saying few boys rarely know how to deal with girls who are crazy and never pleased because of boys.  Honestly, boys, I don't know what to tell you.  Your safest bet is wait it out and she'll (um, maybe) get over it herself, which is usually what I do.  Until I find something else that I don't like (and he probably can't even control) and can get real sassy about.  It's a mad cycle.

So by the time the first hour and a half of laying in bed passed I was cursing because I figured if I spent that time working on my paper due Wednesday I'd be at least halfway done already.  I think that's what gave me the motivation to sit down at 1pm today and knock it out in 2 hours.  Bam.  It's a bit shorter than the original guidelines given by the professor but if that ever becomes a real grading issue I explain that the content is far more important than trying to stretch out the information with poor writing technique.  That usually gives me my points back.  I realize it's kind of sad that I have to sell my work and it can't just speak for itself but that's clearly an issue of work ethic.

Back to "I knew this day would come."   MY MOM FOUND MY BLOG AND READ IT. *cringe*  She proceeded to text me throughout this process.  I thought I convinced her not to read it when she initially told me she found it.  I tried telling her this was my personal diary and private to myself and she needs to respect that.  She said it's a public blog and she has access.  Ali-0 Mom-1  I said I don't read her thoughts about her life in her personal diary that she keeps next to her bed on her shelf.  She said yes you do read that.  (Ok, yes, I do.  WHO IS PERFECT IN THIS WORLD?  I used to read her diary a lot.  She caught on and started writing in ridiculous abbreviations and complete code). Ali-0 Mom-2
I know she started reading my blog when I got the following text messages within the span of 15 minutes.  My mom doesn't usually follow the rule where it's considered impolite to send someone repetitive text messages without getting a response from the person you're sending to, as you can tell from the following.

"Wow I just found it"
"My mom loves that cat more than me"
"Really spermicidal lube u r sooo busted"
"Even ur dad, gyno appt, is nothing sacred"
"U r vulgur, no more swearing or asking if ur ass itches"
"Really?   hymen..  that's wrong"
"Ur not a sweet girl"
"I will always love u"

Yikes.
xxxx
A

I Know It's 75 and I'm Wearing a Scarf

WHY CAN'T WE HAVE TRAINS?  I wish public transportation was more accessible and convenient where I find myself.  I honestly love the half hour trip my class takes downtown every Monday.  I don't sit next to anyone and sometimes if I'm feeling super introverted I'll even put my headphones in.  It's one of the best times of my day and I'm saying that sarcasm-free.  I'm also not saying my life is that boring when I find my favorite part is just sitting there being moved from one place to the next.  It's a great time to be forced to space out.  I can't read in a vehicle or my head feels funny so I just stare out the window and look at people and cars and think about life.  Something productive is indeed being done (I'm going to a new place) and I don't have to do absolutely anything.  Where as if I was driving myself I have to pay attention to what I'm doing.  Ugh.  If I want to eat something I have to be careful that I'll be able to maintain a proper grasp on the steering wheel, which is somewhat hindering to my food choices.  If I have a drink in my drink holder I have to be conscious not to turn too fast or cut someone off too quickly for fear of my drink becoming empty.  And it's different when I'm a passenger in a normal car because I feel somewhat obliged to pay attention to other people in the car, or be a super annoying backseat driver.  "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY USING CRUISE CONTROL IN THE RAIN?  WHY DIDNT YOU LET THAT CAR GO?  SINCE WHEN DOES A YELLOW LIGHT MEAN SLOW DOWN?"

 It's a shame that the RTA's in Cleveland are so dirty and the ambience is just not very nice in general.  I could be the only person on one of those rapids and I still feel unsafe and quite vulnerable.  I've asked my dad countless times if he would buy me pepper spray or mace to carry with me but he's convinced I'd pull it out and use it far too easily.  Well, father, sometimes you say things to me that really deserve a nice little spray to the face.  No in all honesty I think it's one of those things I would carry just to make myself feel better.  I'm sure I'd forget I was even carrying it if there was an incident that called for a good macing.

Over summer we kept a baseball bat behind the counter at the coffee shop and I don't think that would have done me any good.  By the time it takes for me to lift a real bat and get in the proper stance to swing the perpetrator would have had time to get all the money and probably grab the bat itself out of my hands.  Yes, I'm pretty sure I would just run away fast or try to scratch his eyeballs out like my Psych 101 professor told the girls to do if we were ever being attacked.  Apparently gauging eye balls out is much easier than we think, it's all a matter of knowing where to push on the face.  You could probably Google it or message me for the proper technique.  Or attack me and find out the hard way.

The weather today was beautiful and warm.  I feel bad for the girls who had a really intense hickey and tried to cover it up with a big wool scarf and ended up having hot flashes from the scarf around 2pm.
xxxx
A  

I Love You, So Here's MRSA

A lot has happened in regards to health since the last time I blogged.  Don't panic, we'll all be ok.  Connor apparently got sore on his upper thigh, very similar to what I had over summer: an immense spider bite that got infected.  When he told me this I was actually kind of pumped (not in a mean way, it's not like he was in a lot of pain) because I was like, "OMG MAYBE WE'LL HAVE MATCHING SCARS SOUL MATES FOR LIFEEEE".  He went to the doctor, got antibiotics and got it tested to make sure it isn't anything serious.  Ummm.  A week and a half later, kind of serious.  Connor had MRSA.  Cool.  And of course it happened on the same weekend he was coming to visit me.  I have to disinfect my apartment in totality now.  Nah, it wasn't that bad and he was cautious with keeping everything covered, plus he's on really strong antibiotics.  I'm not worried.  I shouldn't worry.

My mom called me this morning and was telling me a story about our neighbors, and the daughter of the family had what they believed to be a spider bite that got infected like mine over summer...They were calling my mom to compare the daughter's issues with mine.  These neighbors don't even live on our street.  They live a few blocks over.  We're not that close them at all.  I'm still very confused on why they know about the personal health issues of my life.  Thanks, mom.  So they took the girl to the doctor, it was MRSA.  She had the same symptoms with the infection that I had; swelling, it was hard to the touch, red, pussy.  Ew.  This doctor said it was definitely not an infected spider bite because if it was the girl would have been lethargic, perhaps vomiting, and diarrhea. When I had my "spider bite" I simply went to Urgacare and got some pills to make it go away.  No tests were taken.  No further follow up questions.  They didn't even ask me if I was shittin' my pants.  Sidenote: my bowels were fine during that period.  Thus, my mom thinks it's a good chance that I had MRSA now too and we just didn't really know.  Typically one needs pretty strong antibiotics to fight off this infection but who knows.  I must have a super human like immune system to defeat it.

I did not believe Connor when he initially proposed the idea of him having MRSA last week, I accused him of going overboard with his hypochondria.  I already carried this guilt on my shoulder this weekend, but now I am clearly forced to carry the guilt of POSSIBLY BEING THE ONE THAT INFECTED HIM WITH THIS SHIT.  This is all hypothetical, but also quite logical in my head.  It's not like I let just anyone grind up against my upper thigh, which is where my possible infection was located.

This situation is all very ironic since my life seems to currently be a big case of finding the cause and determinants of an infection.  I have a huge test in epidemiology tomorrow which I have been studying for but do not feel prepared at all.  Epidemiology is the study of the distribution and determinants of a health related state or behavior in a specified population...  Why does the population that I'm dealing with have to be present in places like my bedroom.  And seriously, how often is that said when not referring to like, an STD.  *so thankful*

Best Text I Received Today:  From Genna at 1:07 pm : "I'm at a farm." 

xxxx
A

But My Flannel is a Button Up!

One thing I do not enjoy doing is shopping for things I do not want to spend money on but I need to purchase.  Examples include gasoline, medicine, food, BUSINESS CASUAL CLOTHES.  I decided to wait until 25 minutes before I was scheduled to be somewhere to get dressed and prepared to conduct interviews, which we were told to arrive in business casual attire in.  Bizz cazshhh attire?  What does that even mean?  I might own one pair of black pants that aren't jeans left over from working at the Bel-Aire Hotel, and I don't even have them at school with me.  I'm a sociology major, come on.  I consider dressing up oxfords and tights with a leather jacket pulling it all together for the win.  I don't think that's what my advisors consider dressing up.  So I'm rummaging through my closet and dressor drawers semi-freaking out when I realize the only collared shirts I own are flannel and the only acceptable shoes are, indeed, my oxfords.  I somehow managed to look "nice casual" with a sweater, tights, and a skirt.  I don't think it qualified as business-y and it was probably a disgraceful look to any corporate individual but like I said, I study sociology.  When/if the time comes when I have to work at the hands of a corporate individual I will start shopping at Express. 

Since I was in a rush to meet for the interviews on time I did not think about properly managing my time.  I didn't bring any homework with me, and by the time we got back to campus it was a little after 7pm.  I work 8-10pm tonight at the library and didn't feel like going ALL the way back to my apartment, on the FOURTH floor, and retreiving work to do before and during my shift.  So I just spent the last half hour slowly walking around the library looking for enough change for a vending machine purchase.  I'm kidding, I'm not that poor.  I'm just weird enough to walk around not looking for anything.  I limited myself to the basement though, the other floors were a little too crowded.  Alas, here I am counting down the minutes until my shift, finishing my purchase of bagged trail mix for 90 cents.  Rip off.  Could have made my own batch of this crap for much cheaper.  And how am I supposed to get the little sunflower seeds out of this bag anyways?  It's one of those real thin, long packages.  I already tried dumping it into my hand and more ended up on the floor.  I actually left one of the raisins that fell on the floor downstairs because I thought it looked just like mouse poo and we used to have a mouse infestation problem at the library so I thought it'd be funny. 

Ugh.  It's not that funny at all.  I'm going to pick it up during my shift because I feel guilty. 

Best Text I Received Today: From Mom at 7:40pm:  "Fyi do ur underwear load last in the washer...one pair contains about 100,000 fecal bacteria.  this could transfer to other loads. ewwww."

You can go ahead and add that to your list of things there are no need to know about in life.
xxxx
A  

Cat>Children and Hair Dye>Mud

One of my favorite books that I was introduced to my freshman year of college is Looking for Alaska.  The book is definitely a tear jerker, but one of the lines that made me emotional most likely is one that most readers just probably giggle at a little and then carry on.  I can't remember exactly who the quote is referring to, but I would guess it's the "superficial" girls who spend too much time worrying about their hair.  Meh.

"They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting."

I read this and distinctly remember having to pause and contemplate the statement.  Yes, I realize it's a fictional book, but it hit me hard.  I love  my hair.  Obviously, I have days when I question why I don't shave my head because A) it would save me so much more time and B) it would save me money.  And then there's those evenings when you're getting ready and aiming for one hair style and you honestly believe your hair is working against you just to increase frustration and make you burn yourself with the straightener so everyone thinks you got a massive hickey.  This is when I start to curse my split ends for frizzing up or those kinks that suddenly seem permanent.
Cue Mom's infamous quote, "You should be happy you have hair.  Some people don't."  Irrelevant, Mother.  I never said I wasn't happy having hair.  I'm just unhappy with the hair I have in this moment.  Besides, she literally uses that quote for anything I complain about.

Me:  "Why is Vincent (our cat that mom loves over all of her children combined) biting my toes?  I think they're bleeding now."
Mom:  "You should be happy he even comes home to us when we let him outside during the day." 

Seriously?

He comes home to us because you feed him and let him sleep in your king size bed.  And if we don't let him in he does this at our kitchen window.  Take your pick.

Master Vincent letting his slaves know he's ready to come inside.

Back to the hair thang, I have been dying my hair and chopping it up in different ways since middle school.  Highlights, black hair, platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, light brown, dark brown, blue streaks, and bleach streaks.  I get bored.  And when my life feels like I have no control over it for longer than a few days this is when I do something extreme.  It's been a while since I've done anything to my hair besides trims and I'm finally seeing a good chunk of my natural color.  Poop brown.  No it's not that bad, probably more like a bright, late spring, muddy after a big rainfall color.   I mentioned to my mom a couple weeks ago that I'm going to go darker for winter.  She was all like NO GROW OUT YOUR NATURAL COLOR UNTIL YOU GRADUATE I'LL GIVE YOU 50 BUCKS IF YOU DO IT.  Because these kind of offers I come across everyday?!  Deal.  I will do most things for some money.  If anyone wants to offer $50+ to do something different to my hair, I'm open for discussion.  I'm currently in the stage where the first third of my hair is muddy bright brown and the rest of my hair is a mix of the past years.  So I'm currently spending my days presenting my mood and style via the hair I'm portraying.  That definitely made it sound like I want people to look at my hair and judge it every time I see it.  But let's get real, I think I actually style my hair 2-3 times a week.  So you can judge me daily if you'd like, but you will assume I'm homeless and poor and don't own shampoo. *gross*.  Anyways, If I'm accenting the left over bleach streak shades you know shit is getting real insane in my personal life.  If my bangs are down properly the whole day it means I got really lucky when I woke up that morning.  No, I didn't get laid, the bangs just laid(layed?) well.

xxxx

A

My Horn Makes Me Giggle

UGH CAR TROUBLES.   So frustrating.  You know what would be even more frustrating?  If I actually had to pay for anything besides filling the gas tank.  Whatever, I'm young by today's standards.  And, Dad, if I had the money for car repairs, I'd lie and say I didn't.  Just kidding.  I would step up to the plate and pay it myself.  I hope I'm not jinxing myself because the '99 Corolla they have me drive around in doesn't currently need a repair, it's just having a very awkward and POTENTIALLY dangerous issue.  Of course, leave it to my vehicle to possess an issue that makes people think I'm weird.  It unlocks itself incessantly.  At first, I literally thought it was a conspiracy issue and some mean people playing a joke.  I locked my car and started walking away when it did the double-beep as if I unlocked it.  I walked back to my car and it was, indeed, unlocked.  What the fuhhhh.  I proceeded to lock it manually using the key and started strolling away and it double beeped 15 seconds later.  Mind you, my cars beep is a polite chirp and unmistakably mine.  (I had a couple instances this fall with Genna driving with me and cars in front of me have started reversing almost straight back into me.  Cue mad honking.  My honk sounds like a greeting at a tea party.  Like I'm saying "Hi, it's nice to see you Jeep Liberty!  Don't worry, it'll be ok if you reverse into the front of my vehicle."  I think me screaming out my car window is 100% more efficient than beeping my horn.)  I then heard people laughing in the distance and somehow rationalized the fact they had a little machine bought off the black market that can automatically unlock old cars.  So of course I pretended I didn't care that my car was unlocked and casually walked into my apartment complex.  It wasn't the fact that my car was unlocked that was the issue, the most valuable thing that they could take is my $22 TJ Maxx sunglasses or my Poverty & Welfare book.  Not exactly worried.  What worried me, in that moment, is that people cared enough to mess around with my little car.

Looking back jumping to the black market product conspiracy was a little much, my imagination can go a little wild sometimes.  So then I believed it was haunted.  This lasted for a few minutes.  I went to Google and wasn't really successful because most said to take it into the mechanic, and I'm not doing that.  It's driving fine and remains locked while driving, which I think is the most important because that means random pedestrians can't just jump into the passenger seat whenever they please.  I hear that happens sometimes.  Ask Genna.
I'm going to change the battery on my car lock/unlock/push button thingy (?) because maybe it's like a fire alarm and chirps the car whenever the battery is low.
Please give me an A+ for these multiple rationalizations for my car problems.

Time for the Presidential debate that rudely took up the space of New Girl.  Grr.  Well, we all know the debate will be just as, if not more, entertaining and at times awkward (seriously when they blatantly ignore and speak over the mediator I cringe and just feel uncomfortable).

Best Text I Received Today: From Connor at 7:51am "When sharing the bed with someone who has sleeping trouble the partner loses an average of 49 minutes of sleep a night.  Just heard it on the radio." 

AKA:  Ali this means you should willingly offer to sleep on the couch every night because it's now clearly proven you're contributing to my lack of alertness and energy throughout every day.  

Nah.  You'll be ok.  
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Please, Keep the Book

I make such a big deal about having a planner for each new semester in school.  And each semester I make a vow during the first week of classes to religiously write down my assignments and commitments and actually refer to my planner.  I have this notion that I would be so much more productive and mature if I stopped trying to keep everything I have to do in my mental calendar or written on my hand day to day because that's what I've done my entire life. Why I thought senior year of college would be any different, I do not know.  And of course, it's not different at all.  What week of the semester is this anyways?  Like 7?  I haven't had anything major due within the past week (besides a midterm) so I decided to do a quick peek at a few of my syllabuses this morning once I got back to my apartment...because my actual planner was telling me I have a pretty laid back week ahead of me.

 Thank God I don't trust the damn planner I keep for myself.  I have two 7 page research papers and two midterms within the next week.  Not only do I hate procrastinating for things, I HATE NOT KNOWING THINGS.  Mondays are my busiest days.  I literally have a one hour break between 2-3.  As I'm sure most of you know, one hour is not enough time to get anything productive done.  Seriously, I think today I peed, checked my email, got a bagel, ate the bagel, read the LIFE section of USA Today (the least news worthy section) and bam, my hour was up.  Then I get a little period of time between 6 and 8 where I go back to my apartment to eat before work.  Two hours is a little more sufficient than one hour, but I NEED to eat dinner.  Plus at this point I'm so overwhelmed with all the work I seem to have unknowingly created for myself that I didn't know what to do.  Paralyzed with whelm and early 20's angst.  Logically, I made a chunk of microwavable vegetable lasagna for a quick dinner.  Yesterday Gina was telling me about her hangover from hell and she puked a few times.  That was literally all I could think of when I was looking at the dinner I provided myself tonight.

Chunk of microwavable lasagna.

In better news, my shift at the library flew by tonight.  I was actually very focused on my homework until I was rudely interrupted by the security alarm we have at the front door.  I've been working there for years and I'm still unsure of the protocol for what to do when the alarm goes off because it happens probably once a shift.  Truth:  I usually just ask in my intimidating voice if they're stealing any books.  They always say no.  Shocker.  And I stare at them for a second then let them go.  The alarm went off tonight on two boys, and one of them looked so guilty.  I asked him if he was stealing a reference book or something, and I thought I was catching him in the act FO SHO.

His response:  "No I'm not.  But did you want to come over and frisk me?"

 Me, contemplating whether or not I should be repulsed or impressed: "I'd rather not.  You may go now."

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45 Cents and Price of a Few Drinks Richer

I feel so strange right now.  It's 70 degrees and it's mid October.  The past couple weeks have been kind of cold and tomorrow it's going to drop 20 degrees again.  This creates an issue when I'm traveling back and forth between locations because I pack wool sweaters and am currently in a heavy thermal and velour sweats.  Another factor of strangeness is my hangover.  It's not a bad one but I don't drink in large quantities often enough to be familiar with hangovers.  I just feel like I have a forcefield around my head and every time I turn my head the forcefield rattles a little. I suppose I could have just said I have a little head throbbing but that's not nearly as animated.

Last night was a great time.  I went out with Gina, Jenna and one of Jenna's smart LECOM friends, Julie.  I love referring to them as med students.  I just feel smarter by association.  I hadn't gone out with Gina in SO long.  I don't think we ever hang out unless we go out.  We're those kind of friends (?).  Anyways we all went to see The Romantic Era play at Cougar's.  They had a great turnout and we had a lot of fun.  Well, I did, and I'm just going to assume they did considering they were both very smiley and laughy the last time I saw them in the night.  Granted, they were with their lover boys so that was probably a large factor.  At the time I definitely thought their happiness was thanks to me providing them with a great night.  I sort of succeeded in my goal of not spending "a lot" of money.  I only paid for my first few drinks.  I forced my friend Rakim (basically like my big brother) to buy me a drink and then I'm hoping it was him who handed me the other beers during the show.  It was really dark and crowded in there... I did get a drink from this older bald man with glasses.  He somehow managed to ask me by mouthing and acting out drinking a beer from across the bar, if I indeed wanted a drink.  I grabbed the two drinks on the table I was sitting at, held them up like I was already double fisting and shook my head no.  He still bought one and came over and set it in front of me.  He didn't even say anything, just pointed at me and left the bar.  Thanks...

I did manage to escape the cover charge by spotting Connor and telling the bouncer man dude anything to get me out of the few dollars it took to get in the bar.  Life of a college student in financial crisis.  Dramatic, I know.

Bouncer: "Do you have a college ID, miss?"  

 Ali: "Yes.  Well, not on me.  I am in college though I swear."

 Bouncer: "Ok.  It's still three dollars..."

Ali: "OH WAIT! I'M DATING THAT BOY!"  

I enthusiastically point to Connor who I spotted standing a few feet away, who like, waves at me.  Thanks babe, that's really going to reassure the bouncer we've been a hot commodity for over a year and a half.  He let me through anyways, sans a payment.  I pride myself way too much on getting these little successes.  When I manage to get free honey mustard at Sheetz with my soft pretzel I literally celebrate when I get back in the car.  I have this technique that usually works and I'm willing to share.  Apparently they're supposed to charge you extra when you ask for a dressing sauce but it never comes up on the computer self order screen.  OR ELSE I'D PAY FOR IT THE RIGHT WAY, SHEETZ PEOPLE.  So once I pay for my pretzel at the register, I go back to pick up the actual pretzel from the food person and smile sweetly, and hesitantly ask for honey mustard like I need it to survive.  The food people know it's a hassle for me to go back to the register person and ring up 45 cents for an extra dipping sauce, so they're awkardly like, "Ermm...yes."  Free dipping sauce.  BOOM.
Sidenote: This only works if the workers are younger men.  When the older woman is working I know I'm royally screwed out of my free honey mustard.

Best Text I Received Today: From Gina at 10:52 am "Sorry I'm a little nasally."

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Kama Sutra, She's A Pretty Girl

Sometimes I wonder if it's normal for parents to talk sexually or make sexual jokes to their children, or to only their older daughter.  You definitely get what you give in life.  My mom and I are pretty close and I'm thankful for that.  We had our spats when I was younger and pubescent with raging hormones but it's much better now.  We run errands together and like to go out for coffee like mature people do (?).  Since she has off Fridays she wanted to spend the day with me since I'm home for "break" today.  I was down of course, so we went to breakfast and then she accompanied me to my gynecologist appointment.  She waited in the lounge area, I'm sure she has no interest in being in the room with me while I spread open my legs unleashing all my glory.  I don't really want her there for that either.  If you've never had this type of check up, avoid it at all costs.  Joking, obviously, it's very important to have it done to ensure you're healthy, they recommend to have one when you become sexually active or turn 21, so if either of those things have occured and you haven't, stand up to the plate and schedule an appointment to get probed (I'M TALKING TO YOU JENNA AND GENNA. NO EXCUSES. STOP PUTTING IT OFF).  It's not the worst thing in the world, it's just cold and the metal thing kinda jabs a little.  Eh, a lot.

My mom asked me how my appointment went, and I explained pretty much the same thing.

*I'm driving home with her next to me*

Ali: "It was ok.  It was very cold and kind of hurt a little.  That metal thing inside of me was pretty uncomfortable."

 Mom: "Well yeah.  You're not used to having something like that up there."

I was unsure whether she meant that in a sexual manner or just in general, I didn't want to further the conversation so I just gave her a strange sideways glance.

Mom: "...Unless Connor is a robot."

And she went there.  

Our next stop was Sheetz to get coffee.  (Sidenote:  Sheetz needs to go global.  Or at least invade all of the midwest.  Hands down the best food and the best outside lighting so I don't feel totally vulnerable while pumpin' my gas in the dark.)  I'm mizing through Sheetz scaring people away because I have this permanently disgusted look plastered on my face from her comment while my mother continues laughing uncontrollably from her "joke".
I see the new Cosmo and start reading the tag lines on the cover out loud, but all my mom is paying attention to is the woman on the cover.  She didn't know who it was and took that as a personal hit to her pop culture knowledge.  We were searching for her name but it wasn't listed anywhere which made me think she was just a model.
Naturally, my mom thought she found her name in the big bold letters at the top:

"Oh, it's Kamma Sutrah.  I wonder what she's in."

She was referring to Kama Sutra.  Luckily I was there to teach her it's pronounced Kah-ma Soo-trah, and it is not her name.  It's an old Hindu book that holds facts on achieving great sexual connection.  Sometimes considered the "bible of sex positions" or the "art of lovemaking".
My mom rolled her eyes and told me to go wait for her in the car.  Mature.
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Your Face Looks Nice Today

It's amazing what a good eye lash curler can do.  I have a couple friends who look at it before I use it as if it's a monster of a machine about to attack my eye when I bring it close.  However, it is honestly a staple when it comes to getting ready for any day.  I feel lost without it.  I blame my genetics but I have always felt my eyelashes got shorted, I compare them to little daggers.  Words cannot express the envy I have for Leah when I look at her eyelashes.  That girl has the most luscious lashes I have ever seen.  I want to post a picture of her eyes so everyone can see but that may be a little invasive to her.
I'm a big makeup connoisseur.  Guilty.  I spend a lot of money on expensive makeup.  That may sound surprising, as I don't (think I) come off as a fugly plastic skank, but I just care a lot about what I put onto my skin and I enjoy the art of applying makeup.  Yes, I consider it an art because I have seen those websites "celebrities without makeup" and holy shit if that's not creating something beautiful out of nothing than I don't know what is.  Seriously, Google it if you don't have a life for like thirty seconds.  It's like seeing some of these people for the first time.

Sometimes even I forget what I look like with completely no makeup on.  Even after I shower I usually still have traces of eye makeup on, and I wash my face before I sleep every night but in the morning I can tell I have left over mascara at least.  I found nothing takes it ALL off unless I don't put on anything in the morning, then I take an afternoon shower and that really clears off everything.  I'm sure it's unhealthy to only have this happen every so often, but I've never bothered to spend time wiping every last bit off.  Girls, I know you feel me on this.
This morning I woke up and I had a minor headache.  To me, it was god awful because I never get headaches so I literally referred to it as a massive migraine to my mother but I have this innate feeling that a massive migraine feels nothing like what I had.  So I went to the bathroom and was like eff this shit I can't be bothered to do my face.  I ran all my errands with leftover-barely any residual makeup on and then came home.  I then took my afternoon shower and BAM.  Total bare face.  Damn.  I looked like I was 15 again.  My upper chest didn't help.  I then thought about if I was a boy (because boys don't wear makeup) would I be attracted to myself?  I decided no, definitely not.

Girls with zero makeup are definitely not bad looking, even if a guy says "Yikes" when he sees one who rarely doesn't go fresh faced.  (AND THESE ARE THE SAME DUDES WHO SAY THEY PREFER WOMEN WITHOUT MAKEUP.  MY ASS YOU DO)  It's just different in my opinion.  And the more you see a girl with makeup everyday, (no matter the amount, although some is way more dramatic) the more surprised you'll be with what she looks like bare.  I don't mean just in the nude.  That would be surprising too, of course.  I had to go sans any makeup when I had pink eye for four days and I got a few, "ARE YOU OK?"'s and "You look different today..."
Genna went completely bare faced for the first time during a tutoring session we did with little Korean kids when we were in Sydney and one girl loudly said, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR FACE?"  It's called going au natural you mean little devil child.  It'll keep your pores clean so chill.

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If I Hitch Hike, Would That Make You Love Me?

Fall break!  Before you get too excited, we get Friday off.  How can they even call it a legitimate "break", I have no idea.  One day off is what we call an observed holiday.  I only have one class on Thursdays though and 95% of the class is indeed not going and I'm fairly certain my teacher would make fun of us if we didn't not go.  So I drove home today after my fourth class of the day, in the rain obviously, and my dad was there waiting for me with an angry stance in the doorway.  I kid you not, this man would rather have me be a lazy pothead who sells my body for services as opposed to an ambitious daughter who drives home to come see her family and friends on break from her collegiate institution.  Sorry you can't afford to have a driver who accompanies me to the locations I desire.

Dad: "You know, I have a friend who doesn't even let his daughter drive on I-90 and she's the same age as you.  Maybe I should start enforcing that."

 Ali: "I bet if she was a boy it'd be irrelevant.  Do you think if she was a boy he would still have that rule?"

*me staring him down for an answer*

Ali: "DAD! ANSWER ME!"

*proceeds to wait for a commercial, he's big into "The Big Bang Theory"...*

Dad: "That's a stupid question.  She's not a boy."

Ali: "OH MY GOD. YOU KNOW if she had a penis she'd be allowed."

And, the silent treatment that he decided to give me is also known as a sign of defeat for him and success for me.  Although I don't know what I succeeded in. I really only further uncovered that my dad thinks because I have a vagina I'm more dangerous on the road and it somehow impairs my ability to be a safe driver.  Weird, because I only had ONE incident today where I felt I was not 100% focused on my driving.  I had a family-size box of Reese Puff's in between my lap and I was trying to determine if the peanut butter colored puffs tasted like PB Captain Crunch and the dark puffs were really just Cocoa Puffs.  I have no conclusive results however I did drop the box and spilled a large portion under my seat.  Hence the one incident that distracted my driving.  Mack is going to kill me because she hates messy cars and messy purses.  The car I take to school is looking more like my closet/desk everyday, and I don't think I have one purse that doesn't have strange crumbs or wrappers in at least one pocket.  However, she certainly has no problem borrowing my clothes.  Betch.
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Why Can't We Sound Like the French?

My Poverty and Welfare class spends one day a week going to downtown Cleveland to learn more about ASIA inc.  (Asian Services in Action).
Yesterday the supervisor we work with at ASIA inc. was explaining issues the refugee youth deal with when they're placed in their new American high school.  Refugees are people who have been forced to leave their homeland due to reasons out of their control.  The ages completely vary, but we were focusing on the students yesterday.  Suddenly they're immersed into our culture wide-eyed and terrified.  They slowly begin to pick up our language and are expected to be able to complete their school work to a satisfactory point within a few months.  ASIA works with a program that helps these students become more accustomed.
Part of the reason I love being a sociology major is because we study people of all cultures, of all socioeconomic backgrounds.  It's a constant reality check of where we stand in the world.  I studied abroad in Australia because it was the furthest away from Erie, and I wanted to see the other side of the world.  Not to mention they spoke English so I knew I would have a way to communicate my basic needs.  I cannot even begin to imagine being forced to leave my  home, being stuck in a camp with thousand upon thousands of other people in extremely poor living conditions, small rations of food, and simply waiting.  The estimated amount of refugees in the world is 43 million people.  The average wait in these camps is 17 years before you're given permission to enter another country (not knowing their culture or language) to attempt to build a new life for you and your family.  Terrifying.

 I envy those who know more than one language.  I used to think I was good at Spanish, then I went to Mexico and was personally convinced that language was not the one I spent 50 minutes every other day learning.  Being fluent in a language is not the same as knowing words on flashcards.  If I was fluent in a language other than English, I would most certainly talk it in America.  Hopefully I was friends with people who spoke the other language too so I wouldn't have to just talk out loud to myself like a weirdo all the time (I'd still do that).  I think it's terribly ignorant when people hear others speaking in a language other than English in America and say it's rude and they're in America, speak English.  I've heard this happen far too many times and my brain always has the same response.

Really? Are you afraid they're talking about you?  Please. Pretty sure people talk shit on you whether they're speaking your language or not.

Watch this YouTube video (the link is below).  It's crazy.  And pretty short.  We watched it in class yesterday.  It's an idea of what English sounds like to non-English speakers.  And how you can still get the gist of things through context, and many people are forced to use more than words to understand when immersed into a foreign culture.  Something I think everyone should experience at some point in life.

What Non-English Speakers Think We Sound Like

We don't sound nearly as pretty as the French.  Boo.

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If Your Ass Itches...

Alas, the week of Fall Break has arrived.  Conveniently it has arrived during an "I need to grocery shop week".  For that reasoning I am trying to make it through until I go home Wednesday evening without purchasing groceries.  I'm not sure I see the point in stocking a fridge just to let it sit for four straight days getting older and less tasty.  I made it through the day on an overpriced banana  and coffee from the gas station (for real I paid the price of a whole bushel for one banana, I'm embarrassed), snacking on almonds, and a packed tofurkey sandwich, all before 7 o clock.  This is normally not enough to sustain me and keep me from being cranky because I have the eating habit of cats where I eat small meals every couple hours.  Classes worked in my favor today regarding food consumption.  In epidemiology we were discussing infectious diseases and began talking about parasitics, specifically Taenia spp. (tapeworms).  DISGUSTING but interesting that something so weird can be alive inside us.  Almost as weirdly awesome as having a human be alive inside us (pregnancy or sex, whichever you thought of is cool, I'm not here to judge).
A person suffers from tapeworms if they somehow ingest the larvae, but it has been found that some people do ingest them as a form of weight loss.  True life, Tyra Banks interviewed them.  As you consume nutrients, the tape worm does as well and grows increasingly long inside of you.  My epi teacher was telling us about a dude who didn't know he had one until in bed one night he had an itchy anus.  Put the pieces together...yep.  She then proceeded to tell us his wife had to pull it out (that's what she said).  "That's what marriage is, guys.  Through sickness and health."  I learn so much in that class...and then go eat lunch.

Very little can stop me from eating when I have my food in front of me, and as if that wasn't bad enough, I tried reading my book for Medicine & Culture class while munchin'.  The topic was childbirth in Mali, a third world country in Africa, from a Peace Corp member's firsthand perspective.  It was very graphic and I'm ashamed I'm a young woman and couldn't read it without a grimace.  It's amazing what these women endure to have their children.  Epidurals, clean water, and rubber gloves have never seemed so appealing.

So here I am at dinner eating scrambled eggs (that may or may not have been cooked with spoiled milk) on a cinny raisin bagel that's been frozen since the end of August.  I was vegan for a while, I don't remember what the signs for spoiled milk are...and I smelled the milk five times before I decided it was ok.  There wasn't chunk or discolor.  Whatever.  I'm banking on it lasting till at least tomorrow because I'm going to need it for my oatmeal which no doubt lasts forever.

Completely different topic.  That awkward moment when you're having an intimate moment and it's interrupted with hilarity and uncertainty with what to do when your iTunes starts playing a song that is being sung by the person you're in an intimate moment with. #buzzkill #mylifeisaverage

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How to Not Spend Time Wisely

There was so much studying that I should have done this weekend.  I've probably clocked 3 hours in so far, and that's even an exaggeration.  I have a midterm in Sex and Gender on Monday and a midterm in Poverty and Welfare on Wednesday.  I had important things to do this weekend though, and I find it very hard to not do fun things when they're an option over studying.  What is that called?  Self discipline?  I don't have that.  My mom was making marshmallow ghost cupcakes yesterday and she made this vanilla wafer sandwich with frosting and sprinkles.  She told me to eat and I said no.  Half an hour later it was gone.  Weird.  

In more exciting and non-studying news, today is Jenna's birthday!  We went out together pretty much every weekend over summer with our friend Gina so it had been a while since our last shindig downtown, and it was lovely.  ( Except Gina didn't come last night because she was too busy getting wastey for the Edinboro homecoming, understandably so.)  I was going to get meet all of Jenna's new LECOM (Lake Erie College of OM...I forget) friends, which is obviously intimidating because that means they're all very smart and med students.  I am far from a med student but I can hold my own in a smart conversation unless it truly does become medical.  A few high school friends were there too, John and Derek, and it's always nice seeing them.  Her LECOM friends were all super nice though and I definitely approved from the protective long term friend standpoint which is weird that I'm even acknowledging that should be a standpoint.  

Best Text I Received Today: From John at 1:02am  

"i went to say bye to jenna and shes up dancing on the bar ahahaha"

So from that text I would guess and hope that her birthday night ended up being very successful.  Unfortunately she had to be at work by 9 am this morning.  While I slept in with my boyfriend being a lazy ass when I should have been studying (I have all day today guys, relax).  I do remember her saying that  she hopes work is super shitty because that means she had a great night.  I like how she thinks.
Side note...if you've ever seen the super cute YouTube video of Marcell the Shell  <<< watch it, it'll make you smile.  Then look at this picture of what Jenna's boy interest whom I will remain unnamed gave her for her birthday.  This gift screams Jenna.  Brilliant.

Homemade Marcell on a Piece of Bread

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Sister's Shitty Situation

I'm so proud of her.  Her story of stealth that she came home with from school today could have brought tears to my eyes if I had just watched Marlee and Me or My Dog Skip.  It began with a basic comment about how doing #2 in public can always be awkward.  Sometimes, you just gotta do it, but we all know we'd prefer the comfort of our own bathroom.
She was in the middle of gym class and well, the urge hit.  I think she believed she hit a prime moment of opportunity because no one else was in the locker room and every stall was free. Jackpot.  She was all up in there doing her business not bothering anyone when it happens.  *Footsteps*  Shit.  In more ways than one.  Ha.  No but seriously I can only imagine what that felt like to her.  Probably one of the worst situations one can be confronted with.  And once you start it's that in between feeling of should I just finish or just save it for later.  Crude, I know, but everyone shits.  President Obama.  Emma Watson.  Dr. Phil.  Even Angelina Jolie.  Although she probably manages to do that sexy.  I'm so jealous.  I'd like to be a sexy shitter.  How sexy do you have to be to even have that image be appealing?  This is getting very gross if you start putting images in your head.  Sorry.

The footsteps stop at the mirror in front of the sink and Mack hears,
"What is that smell?  Why can't people wait until they get home?  You really have to do that kind of stuff at school.  No."

  Once she got past the initial mortification of the situation, she thought quick.  I still don't comprehend how she managed to do this, but she slid out of the stall and swiftly ran to the other side of the bathroom behind the lockers.  Then casually walked back to the sink to wash her hands, says hi to the girl and proceeds to say,
"What the hell is that smell?"

The girl agrees with her enthusiastically and they share an exchange of words about the nerve of people shitting during school hours.
I can't express enough how much this identifies my sister as being my sister.
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Moose Mail

I give so much credit to the postal service.  I will never understand how a letter from Pennsylvania can successfully make it to what was the house where G and I lived in Australia last year.  How does that happen?  It amazes me more than the internet because it's humans actually performing the actions.  I want an inside look into the system because do they physically distribute the mail based on nearby locations of where other mail is going?  Do they have a machine that reads the addresses on the front?*  I need to meet a postal worker, asap.  I'm a huge fan of sending things via mail if you haven't figured that out yet.  I think it's one of the most thoughtful things you can do.  Something about holding a card in your hands just makes you realize that it took effort to hand write their name inside, or address the envelope.  I usually give the sender far less credit if they use a type up, print out version of addressing, but whatever they still had to put it in a mailbox.

My friend Moose even mailed me a birthday card to Sydney and there were so many errors on the envelope I'm surprised they let it pass through customs.  I wish I would have saved the envelope and taken a picture.  From what I remember, he spelled Australia wrong, he had no return address listed, the stamp was closer to the middle than the corner (the cheapest stamp you can get, no international stamp for this guy) and he mixed up my zipcode. I feel that card should have been confiscated at some point in between destinations.  However, was I bothered with all those errors he made?  No, of course not.  I was very confused, yes.  But overall, I was so pumped he took the time to mail me a card when he could have just emailed me something.  Which would have also been thoughtful (this is for the people who only emailed me on my birthday when I was in Sydney, TOM)...

G opened our little mailbox today in our apartment lobby and you would have thought I won the lottery by my reaction.  There was a card from my cousin with some frond bracelets (long story) she told me she was going to send me.  It was awesome even though I was somewhat expecting them to come because she told me she was going to send them.  Sometimes people forget, you know?  I didn't want to get my hopes up.  But I definitely did so when I saw they arrived I yelled "OH MY FRONDS!!!!!"  And proceeded to open up the envelope in the crammed elevator (I'm impatient), not paying attention to anything else until Genna pointed out I was getting off on the wrong floor.  Nice.

xxxx
A
*Literally things that keep me up at night.

Mmm. The Taste of Mistake

You know that moment when you're at a RedBox trying to decide what movie to rent and someone comes up behind you to wait? Your tension level rises immensely and you forget what you're even doing.  The worst.  Especially because they technically aren't doing anything wrong.  It's not like there's a proper queue to wait in or the owners surrounding the RedBox have activities to entertain those waiting behind you.  They just stand there.  You can feel their eyes piercing holes through your back urging you to hurry the hell up because they want a damn movie, too.  I seriously would prefer them to stare at my ass if that means they won't grow hostile if I take too long.  I think I'm joking.

I had a very similar experience today at the vending machine that ruined (dramatic) my day from noon to 1. I was in a state of intense concentration evaluating my options of an afternoon snack.  The bottom row was hosting the PopTarts which were calling my name and mocking me to live a little cuz they know I won't.  The logical part of my brain knew right away I wasn't going to pick it but I liked looking at the different flavors.  Even their packaging makes it look so fun to eat.  The top row had a few varieties of chips, pretzels and the like.  I was tempted to buy a bag, but pretzels make my mouth dry after a couple unless I rotate with sipping water which just gets obnoxious.  The naturally kettle cooked chips always catch my eye because outwardly they seem like a healthy choice, but being a student of environmental/societal/public health classes I know very well the health benefits compared to a bag of Lays are minimal.  They're definitely not good for you, but I suppose you could get away with saying they are a little less worse?
Then I spotted right away the little baggy of almonds, cranberries and peanuts.  Yes, I realize I have the snacking habits of a stay at home mom who wins like "PTA Mom of the Year"and organizes field trips and shit but when my arteries are squeaky clean and cholesterol level is normal and I can run a marathon at age fifty (definitely hypothetical) I will be pleased.

The moral of this story that I got wildly off track on is to stay focused if someone comes up way too close behind you during the crucial moment of decision making.  I got flustered by this girl and ended up pressing A53 instead of A54 and when I saw the 3 Musketeers Bar (not even mini size) slowly fall off the shelf I realized what I had done.  I nonchalantly grabbed the chocolate bar like it was my full intention and sat at the nearest table to comprehend what just happened.  For a second I thought about going up to the girl.

"Do you realize what you've done?"

No that would be overreacting.  But I knew I couldn't throw it out because that's just pure wastefulness.  I knew I wouldn't come across someone who I really cared about enough to offer a full size candy bar to without seeming super creepy and awkward.   So I just opened it up and took a bite.
Ew.  It wasn't even good.  The taste of complete error and total failure.  I threw it out and bought the nuts.
xxxx
A

Perfect Boys

If it was appropriate to write a blog that spanned fifty two separate paragraphs, this would be the post that does just that.  The only obvious reason:  Cosmopolitan released their 2012 Bachelor of the Year nominees.  I love this issue because I can find something ridiculous/mockable/definitelynotgenuine with at least one comment made by typically every nominee (Are you still pretending I have a life or have you lost all faith?).  Oh, you like to draw buildings in your sketchbook in your free time?  Perfect!  I want a white house with blue shudders and a wrap around porch so I can paint and watch the sunset and sunrise! Please be a little more original with your free-time response, Alabama.  I don't have a problem with architects, only one's who claim they're seductive yet would only try s&m if "she wanted to".  Whatever, dude.  You're a college sophomore who looks like he's 35.

Then we have Mr. New Hampshire.  What a confused young man.  He's admitting to have read "Fifty Shades of Grey" and also wants to take women on his motorcycle.  How beautiful.  Signs he's smitten:  "I'll want to spend a lot of time with her, even doing boring things like shopping." 
Well, here's a tip.  Do not refer to things she likes to do as boring.  She may not respond well to that classification.

South Dakota:  "I'm a sweet, sarcastic cowboy who loves riding and roping horses."  Finally someone admits to wanting s&m.

And Utah is wondering "Why do great girls fall for supbar guys?"  Where, exactly, do you hang out sir? I have been to quite a few places in America and it's not like us women are flocked with abovepar gentleman.  And don't call yourself intriguing, you might as well say "I find myself immensely interesting".

Of course, we need the Ivy League representative.  Thank you, Connecticut, for supplying us with the professional violinist possessing sensitive palms and washboard abs.  As if these traits alone don't make you want to transfer immediately to Yale, hold up.  My long-term long-distance dear friend, Grace, whom I will always find myself wanting to be good friends with if we are ever in the same state, goes to Yale and admitted the facts to me.  "He is completely skewing the Cosmo-reading world's view of what the average Yale guy looks like.  He's really fucking up the curve."  Now there's honesty.

I wish every one of these bachelor's contained a little anecdote with a comment from a "Grace" in their state.  I know there are naive women out there who believe that Mr. New Hampshire is perfect because he will narrarate soft erotica while making your hair blow in the wind.  And maybe that is perfect for someone (he'll probably still leave the toilet seat up anyways).  I really don't know anything about the perfect boy or bachelor.  I wouldn't want him.  That would cause too much competition with myself.  
xxxx
A      

I Don't Even Like Tootsie Rolls.

Thank God it's October because I HATE SEPTEMBER.  I've never fully understood why but I do have a few thoughts.  It might be some innate hatred for the beginning of school that I possessed since I was a wee little one but who knows.  It could also be that I just am not a big fan of fall in general, and September marks the start of the season.  I have less of a problem with October and I actually love November with a passion.  I think November for me means fall is almost over and Christmas is coming.  Like, if I made it to November then the fall season can officially suck it.  I'm not crazy about Halloween.  We had a wise orange, large cat named Pumpkin (the name product of a family whose creativity level reaches new heights) when I was young and one Halloween he was on the front porch and a kid stepped on him.  My brothers always made me think Tootsie Rolls and mints were better than Snickers and Reese's and wouldn't tell me that's obviously not true until I traded away all my mini candy bars for little hard pieces of shit candy.  I would be pushin' 60 Tootsie Rolls by the time we tallied candies.
 I'd rather carve into my face than into a pumpkin, and it would probably look better (dramatic but you get the picture).  And pulling those nasty squishy groups of seeds out of the middle always makes me uncomfortable.  Even hayrides.  Does everyone just ignore the fact the whole event smells like farm animal fecal matter?  Maybe it's just me.  I'm now realizing it would make more sense that I hate October more than September, but I don't.  I'm clearly full of surprises.  And complaints.

I DO enjoy haunted houses and scary movies.  And they have some great ones in Ohio.  Getting scared makes me feel alive, you know.  Seriously.  Things popping out or making sudden movements freak me out though.  I took a very long way around the aisles in CVS to get to the vitamins because they had one of those life size hooded skeletons standing near the aisle I needed.  I swear to God if I walked in front of that thing and it had a motion detector and did something I would have shrieked.  There is no reason to draw that type of attention to yourself in a drugstore.

HOW DOES THIS PROMOTE BUSINESS?

Current events:  There is a huge peanut butter recall list that just keeps growing.  I am getting increasingly nervous.  If you consume the main brands like choosy moms you should be OK because Jif and Skippy are cleared.  If you're a health freak (relax I don't really think that) and buy your pb from Trader Joe's or Whole Foods then be careful because they're on the list.  I don't know what else to tell you besides be careful because I don't work for the FDA.  Don't eat it?

xxxx

A