Saturday, March 31, 2012

Sketchball Steve

Saturday post!  Yeah, I know, I rarely blog on the weekend, but I'm supposed to be writing a paper, so why not stop by here and update you all on my thoughts, first?  Yeah, great idea, I know.  So, basically, the little nugget of info that's been on my mind lately is about boys.  Not just males in general, but guys that hit on girls knowing  they have a boyfriend.  Or guys in a relationship who ask other girls on dates.  Like, what is going through their brain?  I swear, some of the synapses are working backwards or something.

I understand the appeal of a girl in a relationship to other guys.  Generally, they seem more confident and disinterested, which poses a challenge. And guys love challenges.  But I don't think they've finished the thought process.  They think "Oh, I can get past this goalie boyfriend of hers and then..." and they seem to forget the end of that, which basically goes "and then she might date me and then go around flirting with other guys while we're dating just like she did with me."  Really, fellas, you want to date that?  I don't.  Which is why I don't understand guys who seek out other girls while they're already dating someone.

First of all, you're so insecure that you can't dump a girl you don't really like and be single?  Strike one.  Secondly, if that girl dates you, she's just going to make your life a living hell not trusting you because you got with her in such a sketchy way.  Strike 2.  And you're just going to do the same thing to her.  Strike three.  See, boys, you've got no chance before you've even started, so just quit while you're ahead.  You're not that cute anyways.

Alright, it's the weekend and I have to go write about my experience in a pawn shop (which I'm sure you'll hear about, too) so I'll keep this one short.


Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Canadian Border is the Mason-Dixon Line?

Happy Thursday!  It's bright and sunny here in the paradise I call home.  That's right, ladies and gents, I am from perfect, amazing, sunny, gorgeous Florida.  Which isn't the South, although technically it is the most south.  I know it's shocking that I'm not a southern belle, raised on sweet tea and chivalry.  It seems that everyone I follow on Twitter or interact with on social media is suddenly a southern-freaking-belle.  Guess I'm the odd man out.  I'm not really upset about it.  I just am a little confused as to when Oklahoma started being considered the "good old south?" Isn't that the Mid-West?  Or am I just a really bad cartographer?  (That's a person who makes maps, for all of you kids out there skipping class and dwindling away your intelligence.)  It's like suddenly, everything is a southern thing, too.  Oh, you drink wine in Tennessee?  How southern of you.  You have a Lilly Pulitzer sorority print wallet in North Carolina?  Southern.  You wear Nike running shorts in Georgia?  Well slap my ass and call me Sally, you're a southern-god-damn-belle. 

I get the whole God-fearing-bourbon-drinking-SEC-football-loving-truck-driving-country-music-listening southern boy thing.  It's sexy.  What isn't sexy is everyone trying to play to a stereotype that somehow became cool because of Twitter.  Maybe it's just because there's not much else to do in the middle-of-no-where-Arkansas except tweet about wearing pearls and drink with fraternity guys.  Don't get me wrong, I frequent my Twitter more than some would prefer, and I do like me a nice fraternity gentleman, but I've got this whole other slew of things to do in life that make becoming the perfect southern belle last on my list. 

In fact, I feel like I really have the best deal here.  I grew up living on a beach.  I go to college 30 minutes from where everyone goes on spring break.  I can get a tan in January and keep it until November.  There's something charming about a beach-side town, about the temperature reading at the bank reading 102, about getting caught in a 4pm rain storm.  There's a lot to be thankful for, not having to shovel my car out of snow, or skid on ice, or run the heater 4 months out of the year.  I'm not saying that North Carolina isn't gorgeous, and that the south doesn't have its charm, and I blast Blake Shelton in my little SUV like it's nobody's business... but all of America isn't the south, and these 50 states have so much to be appreciated aside from Mason jars and front porch swings.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Pick Up Lines and SAT Vocab

It wouldn't be a typical day in my life at work if I didn't get hit on by a nerd.  Let me clarify that I consider myself a raging nerd, and my boyfriend is kinda nerdy too, so I don't mean that in a negative way.  It's actually kind of a compliment.  But still, back to the whole hitting-on-me thing.  It's always awkward.  Always.  It went a little something like this:

"Hey, you're that girl from the lab."
"Yep, I'm on my way there now."
"What's your name?"
"N.  You're Chris, right?"
"Yeah.  So do you like your job?"
"Yeah, it's pretty easy."
"So, you're graduating in May?"
"Yep, pretty excited about it."
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"
"awkward laugh Yes, I do."
"Ahh, figures..."

And then I just awkwardly giggled and walked away.  I mean, honestly, props to this kid for actually saying hi to me and making a move.  It took my boyfriend, like, 3 months of us "hanging out" for him to finally man up and ask me to "grab food" at Ale House.  It's flattering to get hit on, regardless of if you're in a relationship or not.  It's still equally as awkward for me, though.  Like, what do I say to that whole do-you-have-a-boyfriend question?  "Sorry?" "Yeah he's great?" Sorry sounds like I wish I didn't, and saying how great he is seems kind of offensive.  Maybe this is just all going back to me being more awkward than a turtle turned upside down when it comes to flirting.  Oh well. 

This really wasn't what I planned on writing about today, but I guess life happens when you're busy planning things, or something... I can never remember all those overused quotes by dead people.  Regardless, I need to touch on this.  "What!?" you ask, as you scoot forward in your chair in anticipation.  Okay.  I swear there is a contest going on in my Political Ideologies class that I wasn't informed about.  Every week, there's a competition between students on who can ask the most front-loaded, controversial, annoying question to the professor.  I think there's extra points for the kid who can throw the most SAT vocabulary words in there, too, regardless if they make sense.

And then, the professor, like any good professor, will answer the question completely competently, in a way that everyone can understand.  Not that I actually understood what the jackass in the back row was asking, anyways.  But he'll fire back, asking "well what if the historic friction in the 19th century were to have evolved more like Wilson predicted, eroding the social fabric and leading to a perfidious proletariat...." Shut. Up.  We were being lectured on social security in the United States.  Did you find that run-on sentence of crap in the gutter?  Thanks to you, Mr. Smart-Ass-Who-Likes-Hearing-Himself-Talk, instead of ending class early, we're staying after time to finish the actual material. 

So, yeah, that really grinds my gears. 


Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Student Government and Africa

It's Tuesday!  Trust me, it's not much better for me than Monday, but it's one day closer to Friday!  The closer I get to summer, the more bitter-sweet this whole graduation thing is.  I think I've decided to just stop telling people what I plan on doing afterwards.  It's continually met with heads being shaken and scrunched up faces and "oh wow, I would never do that."  Honestly, that is exactly the difference.  It's not like I'm going to Africa with a hundred bucks to my name, no malaria medicine, and aspire to work for the Ugandan government.  I'm moving to the suburbs of Washington DC.  There's going to be a metro.  Yes, my parents have made it very clear that Bank of Daddy stops, but that doesn't mean I'm completely incompetent to make my own money and live on my own.  And no, I don't have a job lined up, but I really don't think it's as huge of a catastrophe as everyone is imagining.  I'm not the only one "crazy" enough to do this, and it's worked out very well for my friends.  So, kindly stop your doubting and negativity and go back to your... oh, wait, H&M wouldn't even hire you...?  Yeah, stop talking please. 

Also, if one more person asks me to vote for Student Government elections this week, I just may scream.  Everyone on campus picks a side based on whoever they're friends with, and then advocates the crap out of a platform that will never be accomplished.  It's basically like the presidential election, except not nearly as profound, and way more annoying.  At least no one is stopping me on my way to class every 5 minutes wearing a yellow or black campaign shirt asking if they can walk with me and tell me about their goals...  Remember my annoyance with "Union Wednesdays?"  Well, it's like that, just on campaign crack. 

This year, it's gone to a new level.  I'm getting official university emails regarding who to vote for.  People are texting me mass messages.  Students are being offered pizza and cupcakes and probably sexual favors to vote for one party or another.  In reality, at the end of it, whoever wins is going to accomplish the same things, regardless of the differences in the beginning.  Everything gets so blown out of preportion.  It's a huge deal to see which candidates the university tabloid is backing, who last year's president supports, and, of course, who is in the "more popular" fraternity, which obviously means they're better for the job.  Give me a break.  I know that elections for student body president are important, but they can really just chill out when it comes to nagging me. 

I'm just thanking my lucky stars that I'll be out of here by the time the College Democrats get all wired up about the 2012 election and attempt to register every student, squirrel, and pigeon to vote.  Thanks, but no thanks.  Maybe if the Democrats gave out free pizza when I registered to vote, I'd be more willing.  They're all about giving things away for free, right?  But seriously, student government, settle down. 


Monday, March 26, 2012

Who Invited Karen?

Alright.  I'm going to start this week off with some cold hard realizations right now.  I hope you're ready, because this just needs to be discussed, Coffee and Dinosaurs style.  If you haven't seen the old Dane Cook sketch about the friend nobody likes, you can watch it here.  You guessed it, ladies and gents... today, I'm talking about Karen. 

I don't actually have a friend named Karen, but everyone knows which friend I'm talking about.  Those people who somehow always end up being invited to parties, yet no one actually wanted them there.  They are annoying in ways you didn't even know were possible.  There's a 99.9% chance Karen is causing drama, and it's almost as likely that she's flirting with your boyfriend or moving in on a guy she knows someone else is interested in.  No matter what you do, though, you just can't shake off Karen. 

You and your friends might nickname her the Psycho Space Invader so that you can alert each other when she's approaching you in a dark bar.  You need the heads up to brace yourself for the whiny conversation about how her boyfriend hates her that is about to come.  Seriously, though, how does Karen have a boyfriend, and you don't?  Don't even try to act like that isn't going through your head.  To be honest, Karen's boyfriend is probably the male version of Karen, and if he wasn't before, he is now that he's with her.  And before you criticize me for being mean about someone who is probably a very loyal and nice friend, stop. 

Karen is not nice.  Or loyal.  Remember the whole stealing-your-man thing?  As in, she will walk around topless in front of your boyfriend on purpose.  And did I mention that when she invites herself to hang out with everyone, she's usually the one talking crap about everyone who isn't there?  Yep, she's always ready with a derogatory comment about that dress looking bad on you or ready to remind you of that one time you got a little obnoxious at a party.  And God forbid some sexy man buys you a drink at a bar instead of her.  She will pitch a whining fit until you leave with her, sexy-man-less.  Seriously, Karen, no one likes a Debbie-Downer 24/7, so don't get all wondrous when no one answers your pitty-party texts. 

Yeah, Karen sucks, and somehow we just can't get rid of her.  Karens are impervious to even the most obvious of hints.  Trust me, I've tried.  I don't play this whole pussy-footing-around game.  I once got the Karen kicked out of a bar.  It was totally justified.  She slept with the guy I had been dating.  (I got him kicked out, too. Rude.)  Somehow, she still tries to hang out with me.  I can't be the only one with a Karen or two in my circle of acquaintances, can I?


Thursday, March 22, 2012

Tony Soprano and First Words

Oh yayyy! It's Thursday, which is basically my Friday!  Unless you count the doctor's appointment and test I have tomorrow morning.  Which I'm not counting.  Tomorrow my Daddy is coming to see me though!  For those of you who haven't met my father, well... basically, I am his spitting image.  I think it's weird when people say I look like my dad, because, uh, he is a man and I am a girl, and I don't think I look like a man.  Appearance aside, my dad and I have such similar personalities it's scary.  We both like aimlessly driving around.  We both like country music.  We both get really pissed off about nothing and then forget about it 6 minutes later.  We both love beer and wine and food that's bad for us.  And I'm pretty sure my father is equally to blame for my coffee addiction.  My first word as a baby was "hot" because he used to hold me in one arm while he poured his morning coffee.  Not to mention, that man is basically a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out the nearest Dunkin Donuts.  Doesn't matter that my mom makes a fresh pot of coffee every morning... he will drink that and still stop by the pink and orange drive through.

Did I mention my family calls my dad "Tony," like the Soprano's?  Well, like I said, you've probably never met him, so you wouldn't get it, but I swear he looks like Tony.  And he's obnoxiously Italian like Tony.  And he wears shirts like Tony does, too.  The whole mafia thing, well, that's not so accurate. 

Anyways, the last time Tony came to visit me at school for funsies, he ended up becoming best friends with the presidents of 4 fraternities, going shot for shot with them at the local dive bar, and sleeping on my couch.  Total freshman move, dad.  My friends thought he was great, which probably had something to do with his $160 bar tab on free drinks night and his "life advice" chats.  This time, we're steering clear of any establishment offering free drinks, or copious amounts of fraternity boys I could possibly be friends with.  (Tony grabbed one guy by the shirt and yelled at another guy to not kiss my cheek.  I thought it was hilarious.  The boys didn't.)  I'm excited.  A little scared, but still excited to see him.  Hopefully this adventure will be a little more tame. 

It's weird how now that I've been out "on my own" for 4 years, I actually enjoy hanging out with my family.  I have to endure the usual short lecture about being "cut off" come July, and I get reminded that I should be getting an oil change every so many miles.  I usually just text my boyfriend whatever auto instructions my dad gives me, anyways. 

Happy Thursday everyone! 


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Leggings and Flirting

Today, I am wearing leggings.  As pants.  Suck it, fashion police.  I've been feeling sick all week and I've worn all my Nike shorts and so leggings were my comfy attire of choice.  It's okay though, because regardless of what some Victoria's Secret employee told me, my ass is about as saggy as Adele is over her ex boyfriend.  Important note: she was an employee, not a model wearing the Angel wings.  My point: I can wear leggings as pant and turn more heads than Janet Jackson at that infamous nip-slip Superbowl.  Now that I've defended my attire...

I've been meaning to blog about this for a few days now, but it always slips my mind when I sit down with an open draft.  Not today!  What is this very profound and amazing thought that I'm so eager to share with you?  Wait for it... wait for it... Okay, it's really not that profound at all.  Apparently, I'm a huge flirt.  Like, it's a serious issue.  Since when did being friendly get classified in the "flirt" category?  I really never noticed it.  Like, yeah, I would strike up conversations with guys randomly and get bought plenty of free drinks at the bars, but I really just thought this was all due to my striking good looks.  I thought the cute boys in class asked to join my groups because I'm incredibly intelligent.  (Okay, I actually gave that one to my striking good looks, as well).  Apparently, it's because I'm flirting.  I swear guys, this whole time I thought being nice and personable was called being friendly.  Guess I should have asked for a Webster's dictionary for my birthday.

I'm really not complaining.  My boyfriend told me today that he is well aware of my flirt tendencies.  He's a ladies man himself.  It works for us, because we have this thing in our relationship called trust.  So many of my peers seem to see problems with us trusting each other.  I think they're the ones with the problems, to be honest.  It gets to a point where I feel a little guilty that I'm apparently leading on the male population.  When in reality, I could have sworn half of these guys are well aware of that guy called my boyfriend in my life.  Maybe they just don't care.  If I accepted every lunch, Starbucks, Diet Coke, or Adderall offer from these guys, I would probably be caffeinated and fed for a good month.  I simply can't do it, though.  Part of me thinks "hm, maybe they're just being nice, like I am," but then the common sense in my head knocks me upside the brain and yells "obviously they want to see you naked, ya tart."  I've gotten very good at politely declining food and beverage offers.  I will not, however, say no to class notes or a study guide.  Sorry, nerdy N wins out on that one. 

I guess my question is: can guys, with their phallus-shaped second brains, really be nice with honest and innocent intentions like girls can?  Or am I a rare breed, confusing flirting with friendship?

Love, (but not in that way)

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Ross, Rachel & My Wardrobe Conundrums

I have a huge conundrum.  It needs to be fixed.  All day long, at work and in class and doing everything else I need to be doing, I am constantly exhausted.  Some days, I feel like I haven't slept in weeks.  And then I get home at night, curl up into bed, turn on Nick at Nite to catch Friends and.... BOOM insomnia.  Okay, so maybe probably most likely not insomnia.  If I looked it up on WebMD, I would probably have some lingering diptheria from my Oregon Trail adventures.  It's actually more like me wanting to watch the end of the episode to see if Ross and Rachel get back together this time.  (Yes, even though I've seen the very last episode.)  And then I have to check Twitter just one more time.  And then I have to play a game in DrawSomething.  And then... it's 2am and I'm annoyed that I have to be up in 4 hours.  It's becoming a serious issue and I think tonight I'm going to tell technology to suck it and try to sleep. 

This morning, I woke up as usual, to the sounds of Avicii "Levels."  My roommate was so proud the day I made a house music song my alarm.  (Have no fear, southern sassafrases, my Monday-Wednesday alarm is an Eric Church song.  I'm all over the place with music.) I went through my usual morning routine, which is disgustingly the same every single day.  I'm a very habitual person.  The only thing I spice up is whether I make my bed before or after I shower.  But I always make it.  Messy bed, messy head.  I'm a freak, I know.

So, I had such a cute outfit picked out in my head this morning.  A tribal print romper with flats and a belted cardigan.  And then I realized that the most annoying thing, besides freezing in shorts at work, is peeing when wearing a romper with a belted cardigan.  Not to mention, this romper has about 10 buttons down the front of it.  I've been trying to force myself to drink more water lately, so this whole peeing-would-be-a-huge-process-and-take-forever thing wasn't working for me.  Next outfit...

I went through probably 6 outfits.  Mind you, I just have classes and work today.  And I don't have a dress code at work, so I didn't really need to get all jazzed up.  I'm just weird.  And the AC at work is set to, uh, Antarctica, so I had to keep that in mind.  And the fact that it's 80 degrees and sunny outside.  Seriously, my life is so hard.  See the trials and tribulations I have to go through on a daily basis?  After realizing that I was, in fact, now late for said work, I threw on some Nike running shorts and a zip-up hoodie and left.  What a waste of 45 minutes in my closet.  I miss the days of being a child, when my mom set my clothes out for me and there was nap time. 

PS, I'm freezing in these running shorts at work. 


Monday, March 19, 2012

Chugging Beer and Sorority Formal.

Alrighty.  Long weekend accomplished, and today starts a week full of studying for exams and working on projects and trying to keep my A's in my classes.  I guess I could have been a good student last Friday, but day drinking for 9 hours on the beach seemed like a much better idea.  We played "we forgot a cooler so finish the beer before it gets warm" game and then found a bar that had a special for "jungle juice."  I have no idea what was in that drink, but it didn't taste like the jungle and it for sure was not juice.  Regardless, it is officially spring in my eyes, and I can't wait for the next opportunity to get back to the sand and surf. 

I forfeited St. Patty's Day, since it was my sorority's sisterhood retreat that day and we stayed overnight in a hotel.  I didn't really mind giving up Bud Light died green and sloppy block party festivals.  I usually try not to write much about my sorority here, for a variety of reasons, but it was basically my entire weekend so I can't really avoid it.  Unless you want to hear about what I ate for breakfast.  (Egg and cheese on a whole wheat English muffin.)  It was a good weekend, and very busy.  And the fact that I didn't make it to one of the events makes me a little weary for the very senior-tastic weekend in April hosting the bachelorette party, formal, and sendoff banquet back to back to back.  I'm going to need some serious Advil and coconut water that Sunday morning if you know what I mean. 

Speaking of formal.  Want to hear a funny story?  Of course you do.  This will be the second formal I've gotten to attend my four years.  Last year we didn't have one, due to extenuating circumstances, and the year before that, when I was a sophomore, I was sent home for, uh... let's just say tequila wasn't a good idea.  Whoops.  I'm assuming that my boyfriend will be my date this year, which is funny because that sophomore year oh so long ago he was supposed to be my date, before we even started dating... He turned me down because it was some huge UFC fight on TV.  Seriously?  I should invite someone else this year just as payback.  Just kidding.  Yeah, my boyfriend and I have quite a funny story.  It all started when his old roommate took me out on a date two years ago.  But I'll save that Cinderella tale for a rainy day.  And I'll be damned if Mohamed Ali rises from his grave and is scheduled to fight The Incredible Hulk, my boyfriend can TiVo it.  Unless he wants to be dating Rowdy Rhonda, he will happily be dancing the night away with me instead. 

Have a happy week!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Moss, Astronauts, and Togas

Good morning Vietnam!  Just kidding, I wish I was in Vietnam right now.  Actually, I'm a little intimidated by the "eastern world," and that whole Vietnam-war-ordeal back in the day doesn't exactly make me think of a luscious paradise.  Unless your idea of paradise involves land mines and guerrilla warfare.  And I guess technically Vietnam wasn't a war, since Congress never declared it.  What the hell is with these tangents...

I am exhausted.  Not like didn't-sleep-much-last-night exhausted.  More like, thinking-of-everything-I-need-to-do-this-weekend exhausted.  Seriously, it's nonstop from here on out until Sunday, and then I get to wake up Monday morning and hit the ground running with school and work again.  It's overwhelming, yet I can't seem to force myself to get any further ahead with my schoolwork.  I wonder how many iced coffees I'll go through today.  I'm praying I can whip up a toga for our social tonight in like, 30 minutes, so I can have time to nap. 

Yeah, I have to make a toga.  I've been in a sorority for the past 4 years and I can honestly say I have no clue how to do that.  What, you mean Animal House wasn't a real depiction of fraternity and sorority life?  Did I just blow your mind?  Don't get me wrong, we sorority women love us some theme parties.  We would take any excuse to go find a retro eighties-prom style dress at Goodwill, or sexify a pirate outfit for a night of drinking and sexual innuendos about "plundering your booty."  The guys, on the other hand, are less creative with their themes.  I swear, they must sit around during meetings and just be like, "well, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid, so let's theme this one Astronauts and Space Hoes."  I'm seriously not kidding about that one.  So, my point was, I've never been to a toga-themed party before, so tonight is a pretty big deal. 

Then, immediately following a night of debauchery, I will be engaging in some bronzing at the beach, followed by a bachelor’s WNBA party catered by Captain D's (I seriously will not stop quoting that video,) a charity walk for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (yes, I care about humanity), a super-secret retreat event (except I'm practically Sherlock Holmes so I guessed it, but I won't tell you,) and then promptly dying from exhaustion in my bed at approximately 10am on Sunday.  I swear to Jesus and Tim Tebow, God bless the soul who wakes me up from that coma-- I mean, nap.  It just may be the apocalypse for them.  I guess being busy beats being bored.  Sometimes I think I'm the laziest ass on this planet, what with always wishing I could lay in bed and watch Food Network and eat spinach dip.  Then I remembered that sloths exist, and they are so lazy that moss actually grows on them.  I haven't reached that level of botanic idleness yet. 


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Stuff I Shouldn't Say

A lot of controversial things are floating around in my brain today, but I'm going to write about the one that will get me in the least amount of trouble.  Well, actually, it could possibly cost me a job post-graduation, and I may get some "oh-my-god-you-are-the-devil" comments on it, but what the hell... no one has commented on anything yet.  If you haven't seen this hilarious YouTube video about sh*t nobody says, go watch it now and laugh your little hiney off.  This post will make a lot more sense.  Then go touch my screen, please. 

I was recently suggested to join a conservative job bank to aid with my career-hunting, and thought it would be a fantastic idea since I am, in fact, registered as a Republican.  I said this was going to be controversial, didn't I?  I think I can bring up politics by now with you; we are way past our first date.  But you still can't spend the night... I'm not that kind of girl.  Anyways, in order to receive the job postings, I first had to fill out a survey asking about my support for or against certain organizations, policies, and politicians.  Know what I learned about myself?  I'm not conservative enough.  By golly, I can't stand those hippies occupying everything but a job, and I damn well am a member of the Grand Old Party, but there are some (few) things that conservatives would say that I just don't agree with.  Let the controversy begin.  Drum roll, please::: sh*t I shouldn't say...

Why can't gays marry?  If straight men and women can suffer the bonds of marriage through sickness and health and getting fat and bald and saggy boobs, why can't gay men and women be subject to the same torture?  I mean joy.  Plus, I'm pretty sure the majority of gay couples I observe in the media stay together way longer than most hetero marriages.  Cough Kim Kardashian cough.  I just don't get what the big deal is.  Personally, I think some stuck up repub girls somewhere got pissed realizing that if gays could marry, their weddings would be so much more adorable and well-designed than theirs. 

I'm going to lay off the whole smushmortion issue, because it's obnoxiously touchy and I don't want anyone showing up to my house with posters of fetuses being sucked up by a vacuum.  Gross.  I hate vacuuming up dead cockroaches, imagine how I would feel about that.  Birth control is another issue all together, though.  Like, what's so wrong with the pill?  I get that we shouldn't be teaching the middle-school generations Karma Sutra, but let's be honest, turning the other cheek and expecting that just because we tell them "don't have sex until you're married" doesn't mean they're going to listen.  Have you met a 15-year-old?  They wouldn't know obedience if it walked up and and smacked them on their acne-ridden faces.  I'm not saying the federal government needs to be sending out mailers of Ortho-Tri-Cyclen to all households in America, but making it illegal is just going to put more unwanted children into the welfare system we hate so much. 

Alright, so, basically, just those two things.  Everything else I'm siding with the elephants.  Gun control?  Oh, I'm sorry Dems, but did you want to blatantly disobey that document that basically guides our entire nation's government?  What's it called again?  Oh, yeah, the Constitution.  Banning firearms would just put us one step closer to becoming communists, and I heard they only have one choice for fast food restaurants... do you want to be feeding your unwanted born children Captain D's forever? 

And seriously, why are liberals trying to redistribute wealth so much?  You know why the rich are so rich?  Because they occupy jobs, not streets.  They took advantage of an education and learned how to invest their profits.  And, to be quite honest, poorer students get so much financial aid and minorities have so many more scholarship opportunities that, if put on the same academic level, it is more difficult for me as a working-middle-class white girl to do the whole college thing. 

Oh, yeah, and then people want to stop piddling away money on our military forces... We're not Vatican City where we can just get a divine miracle from God should danger bark our way.  We need a military, guys, and a strong one at that.  Especially if you're taking away my right to own my own personal pink plated handgun... Is the government going to fund a Nightlight-In-Every-Home program to protect us from the bad guys? 

This is probably the longest post I've written to date, but if you've read this far through it and are shaking your head while steam comes out of your ears in disgusted anger, thanks.  Just a disclaimer that these are my personal political viewpoints.  I really don't have any intentions of telling you what's right and wrong.  You could probably ask the Pope for advice like that.  We all get our own vote for a reason, right?


Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Typhoid Fever and Rum Pineapples

So, my anxiety has taken over this week.  I am just a huge messy ball of fidgeting, racing thoughts, and manicure-chewing.  Not to mention the only place I could sleep comfortably last night was my couch.  Weird, because my bed is amazing.  Why, you ask? Well, I think this whole graduation thing is getting to me.  I feel like I have to make the absolute most of my last 3 months, and sometimes that means what I want to do and what I want to do less but am obligated to do conflict.  I get guilty skipping class.  I'm definitely not one to just flake out on responsibilities.  So, instead, I have anxiety fits and break down and get miserable.  It's really a vicious cycle and according to Web MD I'm either getting ulcers or stomach cancer or typhoid fever.  I'm going with the last one. I used to contract it a lot playing Oregon Trail; it's probably still lingering. 

In my haste to make everything this last semester perfect, I've managed to be disappointed in almost every "milestone" possible.  Let me say loud and clear, sound the horns, in black and white: I will be at the local Mexican restaurant on Cinco De Mayo, the day after my graduation, drinking a pitcher of sangria to myself.  Come hell, high water, plagues of locusts, a flood drastic enough to require an arch, or Jesus himself, I will be there.  If you would like to join me, this is your cordial invitation.  

I am wiping my brow and saying a little prayer of thanks that I changed my diploma to reflect my Economics major, instead of my Political Science major.  Oh the perks of being a nerd and having two majors.  Why is that such a big deal?  Well, there are pros and cons to this situation.  The benefit of having my degree say Economics is that I graduate with the College of Business and therefore graduate on May 4th, not May 5th like the College of Sciences does.  Case in point, my family will be done congratulating me by the time the festival of tequila and tortillas rolls around.  The downside to being an Economics major, besides the unfortunate looking males in my classes?  My tassel is the color "drab," which is apparently a really attractive greenish-brown color.  Thank God I look good in just about everything.  No, Herff Jones, I do not want to buy an extra souvenir tassel for 6 million dollars when it is that ugly. 

Did I mention Herff Jones is probably the biggest crock of crap I have ever seen?  They literally rape students worse than the jail scene in American History X for cap and gown rentals, class rings, and random other junk no one needs but costs 16 thousand dollars and is engraved with your graduation year.  (I was going to make a Kite Runner joke, but it was too good of a book to be a jackass about.) 

My saving grace this week is that it is supposed to be gorgeous out this Friday, so I can relax by the pool with a homemade rum pineapple and pretend I'm still on vacation. 


Monday, March 12, 2012

Spring Break Was Just Fantastish.

YAY I'm back!  Well, that's more like what you're probably saying.  In my head, I'm groaning and cursing the farmers who invented Daylight Savings and the part of the semester between Spring Break and Summer.  Damn corn and education.  How was my trip, you ask?  Well, if you ignore the fact that the weatherman is a crotchety old man and smited the Bahamas with rain and clouds, and the fact that I'm pretty sure the cruise ship was just an over sized yatch with how seasick everyone was, and the issue of the crybaby friend that no one will ever vacation with again due to his obscenely bad luck, it was a pretty typical of collegiate spring break.  Our 20-something group almost got kicked out of seated dinner, someone fell into the harbor in Nassau, bar tabs were more than the cruise price, there was an incident involving being banned from Senior Frogs (oh yes, it's possible) and I am now nice and tan.  My best friend and I wound up with 16 yard-stick plastic cups in our miniature stateroom cabin.  I felt like the Oprah show, except instead of new cars, everyone got drunk.  Did you know you can buy a bottle of rum in the Bahamas for $14 and walk down the street swigging from it?  It's the definition of classy. 

The trip back home helped me sympathize with the Jews that wandered the desert for all those years.  It took us forever to get off the boat, and then we sat in the port for a good 3 hours waiting for what is probably world's slowest driver to pick us up.  I still can't shower without feeling like the entire room is rocking back and forth, and I think I'd be okay to never hear the term "YOLO!" ever again. 

Needless to say, jumping an hour ahead added to the exhaustion and hangover that results post-Spring-Break means that Monday is the last thing I wanted to wake up to this morning.  It's extra disappointing there there wasn't a 24-hour free pizza bar waiting for me on the 12th deck when I came home from the bar the other night.  I had to actually cook my dinner yesterday, instead of just ordering my three-course meal off a menu to be delivered by a very nice foreign waiter in a bow tie.  What do you mean I have to make my own bed?  I will say this, I am glad that strangers aren't going through my toiletries anymore, sniffing my mouth wash to ensure it isn't vodka and blue food coloring. 

If you'll excuse me, I need to go play Rack City and make awkward I-saw-you-intoxicated-last-week eye contact with everyone I see on campus who was on the same cruise. 


Friday, March 2, 2012

A Princess and a Serial Killer

Oh hey there superstars.  I'm blogging at you today from my bed.  That's right, it's officially break, and I am officially responsibility-free until March 12th.  Okay, I guess I should go to the bank and run errands for the cruise and clean up the house.  But basically, no real responsibilities, woohoo!

Last night, my sorority had a date party downtown.  What's a date party, you ask?  It's well, a party we host, where everyone brings a date.  What a striking concept, right? Anyways, it was themed, as is every party in college and sorority life.  I swear, we'd theme a funeral if it wasn't rude.  The theme of the evening was "Dynamic Duos," so my boyfriend and I went as Princess Peach and Mario from the old-school Nintendo days.  When I say I was Princess Peach, I mean that I always think I'm a princess, and it gave me an excuse to wear pink and a tiara.  And when I say my boyfriend was Mario, I mean he looked like a child molester in a pair of Goodwill overalls and a fake stick-on mustache.  Or, as we were calling it, a molesterstache.  If you don't believe me, you go put your twenty-something boyfriend in a pair of light-wash denim overalls and a mustache you could only picture properly belonging on a large Hispanic man with a guitar.  At one point in the night, I wore the mustache and got asked to dance by a stranger.  Hello, I'm wearing a mustache, creeper.

Needless to say, now that I'm of legal drinking age, these little parties and socials are way more fun than I remember my first few years.  Except, of course, that one social where everyone dressed as pin-up girls.  I'm pretty sure there's only 6 other girls left who haven't graduated and remember that night, but let's just say it wasn't exactly a good example if you're trying to dispel Animal House myths about Greek life.  My hangover day has been productive, though.  I've already retrieved my car from campus and eating a personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut.  What have you done today?  Found a cure for cancer and fed all of Africa?  Psh, that's child's play compared to laying around and eating junk food.  Step your game up.

Alright cool cats, there's so much hairspray in my curls from last night that it just may spontaneously combust.  I should probably go grab a shower.


Thursday, March 1, 2012

Red Lobster

Ugh, sorry for not posting yesterday, guys.  I've just been non-stop with school work that needs to be finished up before Spring Break.  Did I mention that's next week?  Yep, pretty sure I have.  I'm going to try and keep this short, because I have one last midterm standing between me and the sweet, delicious glory of lounging on a boat deck at 2:30 in the afternoon with a daiquiri in hand.  And I haven't really started studying for it.  Oops. 

In between all the hectic study-guide making and presentation-perfecting, I cashed in my free week of tanning at a tanning salon, in hopes of sticking it to the weather man and getting bronze regardless.  Well, I think I'm a few shades past bronze and closer to "lobster."  Can I have some cheddar bay biscuits over here please?  I should have listened to the girl when she told me to only tan for 8 minutes, but I was so anxious to look like I could possibly be Nigerian that I didn't listen.  I've also been eating obnoxiously healthy, so at least I feel like a Nigerian.  Get it, starving African kid? Haha.  Seriously, a girl ate Burger King in my night class yesterday and I was practically drooling I was so hungry for greasy, cheesy food coated in ketchup.  Just a few more days and I will be stuffing myself with delicious cruise food.  I hope my boyfriend doesn't mind me picking off his plate, too.  He eats like a bird so I'm sure he won't mind.  Then again, an NFL linebacker eats like a bird compared to me when I'm hungry. 

Just 6 hours stand between me and sweet freedom, and my sorority has a date party tonight, so I can't wait to start my break off dressed up downtown.