I am really, really thankful for Nicki Minaj. Not only is her OPI nail polish line mostly glitter, but she has made it less crazy and more okay to admit that you have alter egos. Guys, I think we're at this point in our relationship. I feel safe with you, ya know?! Please don't break up with me right after you read this, but I'd like you to meet my alter egos. Top three get explanations.
DJ Disappointment: DJ DISAPPOINTMENT IN THE HOOOOUUUSE!!! Santa isn't real. Yeah, you got a request? I can definitely play that shit... NOT. Most frequently seen at: parties, sporting events, whenever I have control of the music Speciality: Classic 90s humor of saying "...NOT" after things (never gets old!!!)
DJ Only-Plays-Bossy-by-Kelis: Exactly what it sounds like. No, they're not all DJs, asshole. Most frequently seen at: Similar to above, whenever I get to pick the song. Usually whiskey brings DJ OPBbK out faster. Speciality: Disarming enemies through the power of dance and overall BOSSINESS. Also, can wear heels without injury to self or others.
Alicia Malfoy/Fake Aubrey Plaza: For the dark, evil, witchy times. Mostly involves a lot of glaring and dry sarcasm. New additional trait!!: Glancing at my dark mark tattoo as if a threat to summon Voldemort to destroy my enemies. (Alter egos that have enemies count: up to 2) Most frequently seen at: Any social situation, secretly at work often Speciality: The opposite of making new friends, instilling fear in the weak of spirit.
ALTERNATES: Beyonce, Ke$ha, studious actual good student, borderline insomniac, awkward internet personality, future cat lady of the year, professional nap-taker, and, once every three-four months, I turn into a hot girl (when I spend time on hair/makeup/wardrobe ALL AT ONCE).
I am a multi-faceted, interesting being. So, I hope we can maintain our beautiful relationship together. Because, hey, three-four times a year, I can bust out that hot girl alter ego. Until then, yeah, you'll get the crazy in the flannel pants. You're welcome.
Here is a list of things I did while I wasn't blogging:
-was an asshole, sorry guys :(
-saw the Avett Brothers twice!
-met David Mayfield:
-applied to college Pt. 2
-went to Minneapolis once!
-got another tattoo, oops~*
-listened to "Countdown" by Beyonce an unnatural and unacceptable amount of times
-worked out a lot
-^^THAT WAS A JOKE
-actually, I ate a lot of Toppers
-watched the first two seasons of "The League" and, as of tonight, three seasons of "How I Met Your Mother" finally settling the debate: you guys, I am really, really white.
-made best friends with peroxide and now my hair is Viking queen/Malfoy blond, AS IT SHOULD BE.
BUT OKAY. Here's the truth. I didn't mean to take a hiatus. I have been in sort of a funk lately, and my humor gets really dark really fast in these times. (Ask anyone who has met me/been around me in a past month. I'm your strange combo blonde goth friend, nice to meet you.) My strategy has sort of been to just go to work and come home and exit those two places enough so people remember that I'm a person, which I think has been an overall successful mission. Anyway, I sort of figured no one would really notice that I wasn't blogging. And since I was a crazy/lonely enough child to develop having a narrative constantly running in my head, I didn't miss writing it down enough to make a huge effort. Is that a rude thing to say in the presence of my blog? Sidebar: sorry, bud.
SO now it's 3 AM and I am rambling on the internet again! Here's what's cute: a couple people did notice that I wasn't writing publicly and to you sweet, beautiful angels, I must say thank you. If it weren't for others telling me that they missed my writing and effectively inflating my ego juuust enough, this sparkling gem of a late night entry may not exist and you might have had to rely on my Twitter. (Never rely on my Twitter. If you look at Monday evening's tweets, you know more about that night than I do. Twitter will be how they find my body.)
Anyway, I love you all, thanks for reading. Yes, I am completely sober, just running on crazy and the fear that my dog might have learned to stab and might kill me at any moment. She has this crazy look in her eye and is bordering on senile. Trust is low. Here is a picture I took at the Avett show:
Every day, we do things we don't want to do. For example, tomorrow I work at from 6 AM until around 9 PM. No human likes being awake before 6 AM. If you meet anyone who enjoys waking up before 6 AM, you should kill them on the spot. They're fucking robots, and they want to kill you first. Don't let them. Do it for humanity. But, I digress.
To prepare for doing unspeakable things, I have created a musically-based method that is essentially scientific. Combine any of these following songs to make the unbearable activities such as "work" and "school" and "going to a shitty party" considerably more bearable.
1. "Bossy" - Kelis
First of all, I want to live in this video. Now that's on the table, we can proceed. If listening to "Bossy" a couple of times doesn't make you feel like a "boss bitch", you're doing something wrong. Also, for the ladies, I recommend you put on some liquid eyeliner and gold eyeshadow. If you listen to this enough times, the makeup won't become an option, and you'll just do it by default in an effort to morph into Kelis. Not that I know what that is like.
2. "Ego" - Beyonce
If you ever feel bad about yourself, listen to this three times in a row. If you are anything like me, you will go from feeling like shit to being a confidence monster. At this point, my tolerance level is to the point where :30 seconds in I am ready to fight anyone who looks at me the wrong way, because I am Beyonce. So, just watch out.
3. "Fancy" - Drake
This is my ultimate song for getting ready, because Drake encourages me to make myself look cute. It's especially important for these dire times, when all I want to do is go back to bed, probably forever. Maybe I would also watch The League. Point is, I don't want to get ready, and Drake tells me, "Hey, Alicia. You should. BRB time to rap."
4. "Jumper" - Third Eye Blind
So you don't kill yourself because you don't want to go to work.
5. "Green and Yellow" - Lil Wayne
This isn't even the best version of "Green and Yellow", but it's the only one that includes poetic lyrics like, "we shittin' on these fools, no bathroom." BOOM, yeah, Weezy. That is gross, but I am pumped about it. You should be too.
Now with this mini-playlist, you are prepared to take on almost anything. Work, trying to wake up before you want to, going to class, going to an event where you will inevitably be awkward, etc. Go for it. Live your dreams. Listen to mostly rap and one 90s song. It's your time to shine.
Up until about 10 minutes ago, I was very concerned with my public perception. Actually, that is a hilarious joke. I have had a rough time giving a shit about what people think for... a while now. (In general. I still value some opinions very, very much.) This is why I present: Things I Realized Kind of Recently Vol. 1: I Will Never Be Popular, Even If I Become Famous, Which I Will. Is That Delusional?
1. I don't do cool things. I hang out with the same [wonderful] people every weekend. I go to work a lot. This blog is probably the coolest thing I do regularly, and it's not even cool. If I were a cool writer, I would probably chain smoke and drink straight whiskey or something. I would also not do anything actually useful, and I wouldn't care that I'm poor, and I wouldn't like television. I wouldn't be into showering. I'd look like a lady James Franco in Howl. But don't worry, I haven't thought about this before, ever.
I would also have a typewriter, which would send my blog entries to the internet through magic. Damn it, that's probably not cool either.
2. I'm bad at meeting people. Oops. Maybe it's my 13-year-old insecurity coming out in full force, but I am more likely to be known as "______'s weird friend" than anything else after first meeting people. Here's my theory. Middle school days, I was the weird smart girl. I got to high school, and my friends were also smart, so I became insecure even about my own intelligence. Also, still weird. Result: I am a less hot, less confident, less funny Aubrey Plaza. Instead of being hilariously awkward and Puerto Rican, I am white and holding a bottle of DaVinci white wine (2009 was a bad year for everything) accidentally glaring at everyone at a party. Weird girl drinking an entire bottle of wine? She's popular!!
Or I'm making this face, like a smug asshole.
If new people are lucky enough to hear me speak (a rare honor) in the vicinity of people who already like me, they are likely to hear words/conversations that sound like word salad. Example topics/quotes:
"If you were an animal, you'd be a horse." "Yeah, a Clydesdale. You'd bring the beer. The Bud. The fuckin' King of Beer."
"Yeah, Jafar was based on Prince. Probably "Purple Rain". You KNOW he was into kinky shit." -Discussing the sex lives of Disney villains
"Who's Wilson Phillips?" "Just two dudes named Phillip and their buddy Wilson."
Harry Potter: "Accio cute boy! Bedroom of requirement!"
Toddlers and Tiaras
++++MORE++++
3. My friends are too goddamn attractive for my own good. It's no use having a wingman who looks like modeling is their fucking day job. Even the most sparkling~* personalities cannot compete with super attractive friends. When I am out in social scenarios with any of my friends and accomplices, I regress to feeling like "kind of smart, mostly weird" friend (see #2). It's like the Lion King "Circle of Life", but "Circle of Awkward", as sung by me. In the shower.
4. Here are things I do in public (or semi-public):
It is important to note that yes, the degree of odd varies in this upside-down pyramid of photos. However, it is also important to note that these are all staged photographed moments. Thank goodness candids are rare in my life.
Now, I need to be clear that I am not sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I don't feel pouty or especially lonely, and I'm not asking for sympathy from anyone, even though being unpopular is basically a disease. A chronic disease, that will eventually take my life. Like the series finale of Gossip Girl. I will always have my friends who appreciate/contribute to my word salad and still like me. I have Beyonce, who sings "Ego" to me three times in a row, so I feel like a boss. I have Kelis, who sings "Bossy" to me another three times, so I am reminded to kick some social ass before I leave the house. Every. Single. Day.
I am almost constantly (read: never) approached by people for the plethora of fabricated mythology I know about two things: werewolves and vortexes. Today, after my years of research, I finally experienced something that was clearly one or the other.
Here's how this shit when down (you might need some eery music in the background): I went to the mall, on the seemingly innocent mission of buying some black pants, because my life sucks and all I ever get to wear is black. One job with a Bar Mitzvah uniform, one job with a funeral uniform. Eternal sadness and pre-pubescent masculinity all up in my wardrobe.
ANYWAY. I parked by non-threatening Boston Store. Non-threatening MY ASS. I walked in to a slew of Betsey Johnson purses and immediately forgot my identity, what I was looking for, and where I was. I walked out with a Boston Store credit card (what the shit?) and the following items:
Alright, there are some things we need to note about these purchases. First of all, none of them are pants. Three of them are kind of pants, but not to be worn out of the house without other pants. NOT EVEN A SKIRT. I did SO BAD. Next, THREE pairs of Packer underwear?! And they have vaguely slutty phrases on them? Who am I? "Let's huddle"?! That doesn't even mean anything. Unless you are actually talking about football (which I know you aren't, Victoria), that doesn't mean anything.
My main issue with all of this is the feeling I had when I walked out of the mall. Holding bags of shit, completely dazed as to how it got there. "You mean... I exchanged money... for this?" I asked myself, probably aloud on accident in the parking lot. When I got home and examined my purchases, I was not necessarily so much disappointed as surprised. I have only three rational explanations for this occurrence.
I was drugged. Somewhere between work and home and the bank and the mall, I was drugged and forced to spend my hard-earned money. It was probably Boston Store!! They have so much perfume and whatnot everywhere and it was drugged and now I have a credit card I have to cancel (but, guys, I got 20% off).
VORTEX. I don't know much about vortexes, but I am 98% sure that, based on everything I just made up about them, the mall is one. You walk in, walk around in a daze, and aliens sell you things. Everyone who works at the mall is an alien. You can quote me on that.
I am a fashion werewolf. What is a fashion werewolf? Perhaps one of the most specific kinds of werewolves, it occurs when a vulnerable (read: bitter and bloodthirsty) individual enters a shopping mall. It's like a full moon all the time in there, bitches, and you best watch out. You lose control of your body and your wallet and buy as much as you can carry until your inner willpower finally gets you the hell out of there roughly two hours later. It's like a battleground in there, I say based on nothing.
I'm guessing that it was explanation #3, since I came out dazed and covered in the blood of the innocent. But, like a lady Remus Lupin, I feel at least kind of bad about it.
...And, BAM! Still worked in a Harry Potter reference.
Yesterday, my best girl, Kaitlin, departed for her year of studying abroad in England. (Click her name for her blog!) While I am so, so happy and excited for her, obviously her departure prompted me to pout for a solid 24ish hours. However, during my poutfest, I was also prompted to consider what has made my friendships, not only with Kaitlin, so great. I feel like I am constantly talking about one of my "best friends", but I'm not even a very popular person. Thus, I have compiled this list of things that have actually happened that have helped me to determine what it means to me to be my best friend. Enjoy the list, kiddos.
WE ARE PROBABLY BEST FRIENDS IF:
-I have ever texted you saying I was stressed and you ask if you can order me cinnastix
-we have had marathons of stupid YouTube videos/weird TV shows until nearly sunrise
-we have ever agreed on topics to never discuss due to embarrassment and followed through
-you know that when the rule of secrets applies to not telling your significant other without asking
-my parents have your picture on the fridge (or vice versa)
-you have driven my sorry ass to the impound lot (more than once, shit)
-we have made picnics out of limited rations, meaning we mostly just took some bread and meat and ate it outside
-you have seen me cry, which I almost forgot because you know not to mention it ever
-we have had creepy telepathic moments
-we have listened to the same Usher song on repeat until we move on to the next Usher song we desire
-you have traveled cross-country to see me (or vice versa)
-we have spent days in the car together and don't hate each other and actually might love each other more because of it
-you play music with me
-I have sat in your bathroom for over an hour whilst drunky, and you have left your own party to sit on the floor and talk to me
-you have called me in the middle of the night upset about something, and my spidey senses allowed me to wake up (I normally sleep through any/everything)
-you have my Facebook password so no one sends creepy shit at me if I die
-you call me on my shit, but in a delicate enough manner so I don't freak out
-I have called you when I walk somewhere by myself after dark, for safety
-probably other weird, embarrassing things
While most of these things are probably too embarrassing for the internet, BUT I can and will take solace in the fact that at least one other person was involved in all these encounters.
PHOTOGRAPHIC PROOF OF FRIENDSHIPS:
I'm a cynical asshole most of the time, but I am somehow still blessed with some of the most wonderful people in my life ever. Which is cool, because based on the thunder outside, I am probably going to die tonight. RIP.
Today was the first legitimately chilly day of autumn, a topic of mixed feelings in my life. They're mostly positive, what with the reintroduction of sweaters and knee socks and my leather jacket into my wardrobe. However, I forgot how... cold... it is. My classic "no pants after 9" rule has been replaced by "it's really cold, put some extra pants on and maybe some socks". I am fairly certain that my feelings on pants have already been expressed in this forum, so you know that this is my personal hell.
Fall also brings back one of my main loves into my life, television. The series premiere of Up All Night with Will Arnett and people who matter less was tonight, and I am surprised at myself that I liked it as much as I did. Arnett is a no-brainer, but I am naturally averse to shows/movies/lifestyles where a baby is the center of the plot. I also Hulu'd the series premiere of New Girl with Zooey Deschanel, which I am 99% sure is a reverse-nerd version of The Big Bang Theory. If that's the case, I will find it endearing, but inevitably give up after 1.5 seasons. PROPHECY'd! Until then, sure, whatever. Next week is much more important, since Parks and Recreation returns and I can continue my lessons on how to be Amy Poehler when I grow up. So far, my notes say: Be really funny and nice and charming, try really hard. I am unsure I can accomplish this, but lo, I will try.
Anyway. All this being said, I hope those of you friends and creepy anonymous readers~* that are in school are having a good first couple of weeks. Do good at school. I will keep you updated on all the television programming you don't have time to watch because you're doing homework.
In the next few weeks, look out of a blog makeover. Potentially a new name and other cool features (not really about cool features). Have a lovely day/evening/mid-afternoon!
I don't even want to look when the last time I posted was, because I know it is pitiful. Shameful, even. My idea notebook is bumpin' (new cool adjective for notebooks), but I haven't had the time/energy to write anything longer than a sentence. Why? Because I suck. Why? Because being triple employed is a bitch.
Yeah, yeah, I know I signed up for it. I know it will be worth it when I am rolling in piles of money (or crying into piles of money OR BOTH), but at the moment it is just super draining and makes my back hurt. Today was the first day of school for most of my friends, so it was a pouting day on my end x2. I do and I don't miss school. Bipolar attitudes toward education. Good thing I have 7836r723 semesters left when you include law school and round down.
I now bring you the pros and cons of working at my places of work. Keepin' it nice and vague to, you know, not get fired for being an asshole on the internet.
Hardware store:
(+) can/will go to work looking like shit
(+) most of the customers who come in are working guys who don't want to ask for help...
(+)...subsequently, I get to read a shit ton of Harry Potter guilt-free. Male pride FTW!!
(-) trapped in the cash register cube where happiness goes to die
(+) being trapped in said cube has improved my use of hyperbole
(-) I have no idea what the fuck I am ever selling/talking about
(+) I AM A MASTER OF WINGIN' IT
Restaurant:
(+) free food
(+) another step in my transformation into Sookie Stackhouse
(-) with my white shirt, black pants, and tie, I look like I just celebrated my Bar Mitzvah
(+) if that were true, I would finally be a man in the eyes of my people
(-) PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES
(+) those assholes have to tip me
(-) I have to wear some mad Sketchers Shape-Ups
(+) thanxx to those horrifying shoes, my butt is looking really great
(-) seriously, though: people are total assholes
Beauty store:
(----) it's like being a crack addict in a crack store. But it's not just crack, it's the good stuff. Nice crack that makes you look like a beautiful angel sent from heaven covered in glitter.
(+) what's up, big ol' discount
(+) I'm new, so I can still play the new girl pity card (though I don't like to, it's nice to have the option)
(+) the ladies that work there seem lovely thus far
(-) it's a store full of ladies shopping. Unlike the hardware store men, they are needy as fuck.
(-) I'm pretty sure 98% of the stuff we sell is made up. Beauty products are weird. Rub bamboo on your eyeballs and your nails grow faster or something? I call bullshit. Maybe it's eyelashes growing and eucalyptus, not bamboo. My call of bullshit still stands.
Overall:
(-) workin' mad doubles
(+) excuses for mad nap times
(-) apparently I've started using the word "mad" a lot in this specific context, I blame work
(+) I can blame everything on work!!
(+) cash money/Young Money/Lil Wayne-->based on this train of thought, I am now Nicki Minaj. I DID IT
(+) I never have to socialize with people I don't like because I can say that I have to work and they'll never know it was a lie! Off the social grid!
you guys, it's my hit song!!
So, now you know what my life has been like is short form. Now that all three jobs are started and I have as regular of a schedule as I'm going to get, I will definitely be able to blog more. I know you were worried.
I am going to take my post work pre-work out nap, which I just made up and am very excited about. The only major thing you, the reader(s), have missed in the past month is how cute me and Kelsey look in this picture:
Okay, now that is remedied. I can rest easy. Thanks for being patient with me if you have been. If not, umm.. you're probably not reading this.
Hello, dearest blogfriends. I have been slacking in the updating department due to working two jobs and trying to also be a person. Also, as addressed in this post, last week was Shark Week. I give you two pieces of multimedia to describe my past week, so that I can not use words.
I made these, which means I am an ~*artist*~
this is about working like a job, right? either way, it applies
Before I get to my brilliant George Orwell life references, I will address the "feelings" part of the subject. If you have read either of my serious posts (here and here), you know I have been going through some stuff all up in my brain. I say this lightly, but it has been, and still is, a journey that I have really been trying hard to improve upon. That being said, I have been much more of a delicate flower as of late than I'd like to admit. Thus, when I spoke to my grandma today (it was her birthday! happy birthday to her!) and she mentioned somebody told somebody told somebody told her that my blog was funny, I immediately started tearing up. Oh, feelings of approval! She then continued by saying how my uncle wrote a book and I should talk to him because she always knew I would be successful and I should write a book. ("Write a book for teens or young ladies!" "My favorite part was about you watching TV in your underwear, how silly!") Before this thought was complete, I was full out bawling. Oh, emotions! Ladyfeelings! By the time I was done crying, it was two weeks later. Just kidding. Point is, be careful being "nice" or "supportive" to me, because you will likely have to pull what my grandma did, which was get off the phone in a hurry. Same if you're "not nice" or "are average" around me. I'll probably still cry. I'm fun!!1
Now THAT'S out of the way, time to discuss all my jobs. There will probably be a series coming out soon called "Hardware Store Chronicles" which will be (spoiler alert!!) older hick men saying racist stuff and me staring at them. So it's a must-read, right? Also, update: Second job in question? I'm a waitress. At a country bar. I'm like a less hot Sookie Stackhouse minus the gap in my teeth and the vampires, at least so far. (FINGERS CROSSED.)
Here's the rub. A: Waitressing is hard. B: The uniforms 98% of the foodservice industry, including myself, has to wear... just, what? I look like a boy going to his Bar Mitzfah but he's not biologically Jewish just adopted so it's really awkward for him. I don't think they make flattering dress codes for servers, which is a huge bummer since we're relying on tips. So here's where George Orwell comes in, along with my voodoo ability to predict the future (yet unproven): Mark my words, there shall be an uprising amongst the service industry for better uniforms before better wage.
To make this more Orwell-y, I'll throw in the word proletariat. Also, this:
"And shall I still be allowed to wear ribbons in my mane?" asked Mollie.
"Comrade," said Snowball, "those ribbons that you are so devoted to are the badge of slavery. Can you not understand that liberty is worth more than ribbons?"
And I close this section with: Yeah, bitch, I READ Animal Farm.
Now, "The Like"--a list of other things I have to say that don't have a category.
I got another tattoo today! Needed to get my sugar skull touched up, so to make shop minimum I got my motherland tattoo I have been wanting.
In the past two weeks I have swam in Lake Michigan twice, both around 3 AM. Oops.
Someone suggested I should do a style blog and I'm still laughing. You do know I wear the same rotation of like four dresses all summer, right? Also, see above comment about my Bar Mitzfah.
I'm thinking of renaming/redesigning the ol' blog. I'll either keep you updated or I'll forget and it will suddenly be different. The latter is more likely, but I feel like you should know that by now.
My little notebook I carry around with me is getting obnoxiously full of ideas for stuff to write about, so get ready.
Alright, kiddos. That's what I've got for now. I head to Minneapolis tomorrow for the rest of the week to finish moving my stuff home, so it'll be a busy one. Hopefully I'll also have some antics to write about when I get back as well! Hope everyone had a great Shark Week.
QUICK CLOSING POLL: If I posted an end of summer playlist, would you download it? Clap once for yes. I can hear you. Trust me. Winkface.
Preface: If you read my last post, you might know that I have a case of the crazy eye (broken blood vessel). This is still an issue in my life.
CALL ME OL' MAD EYE
It's getting better, but I secretly think it's kind of bad ass. Obviously, I assumed it was from a bar fight I didn't know happened, but when I looked it up, this is what I found: "Subconjunctival hemorrhage often occurs without any obvious harm to your eye, or it may be the result of a strong sneeze or cough that caused a broken blood vessel." Obviously, I am livid. This formerly bad ass wound that looks like a Death Eater got all up in my grill is the result of a SNEEZE?! I call bullshit on you, life.
Completely unrelated to the "Mad Eye" or "Death Eater" reference, but I'm still really into mah boi HP. So, uh, just stay aware of that throughout these next couple of weeks. Hypothetically, HP2 is playing right next to this window as I type.
NOW, REAL POST, Pt. 1:
If you have ever met me, you know that I conduct many conversations with most quotes from Arrested Development. If you haven't met me, I'm really witty and come up with everything funny by myself.
But in as close to complete seriousness as I can muster up on this topic, AD is potentially the funniest show you'll ever see. I'm talking to YOU, three readers of mine. Before I get to my carefully chosen selection of YouTube clips, I will attempt to use words to describe why this show was/is/will forever be so great. (That's what blogs are, right?)
The jokes build upon themselves and the plotline, creating incredibly intelligent humor.
Will Arnett saying anything
Bob Loblaw, Attorney at Law
Ron Howard narrates the show. This is the coolest thing Ron Howard has done since "Happy Days" or any of the other cool things he has done. (A Beautiful Mind is really good too and also Frost/Nixon. Fine, Ron Howard is just really cool.)
See photo at right
I now am pleased to offer some of my favorite AD clips. Watch, giggle, if you're anything like me watch ten more times, etc.
If you're not convinced that you need to watch this show now, I probably can't trust you. It is my own personal law. May our friendship RIP. :(
Pt. 2 - THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!:
July 31 begins Shark Week, bitches. Explaining Shark Week feels almost condescending, since it is exactly what it sounds like--a week of shark-based programming. I get really, really into it. For example, every time I have gone out in the past two weeks I have explained that I'm "pregaming for Shark Week".
I now offer you, Shark Week tips + drinking game! You can use any variation of these as you would like.
Make score cards 1-10. These are useful for shows about sharks jumping in the air, chomping at creatures, etc. Hold up cards as need be. To make part of drinking game: uh, drink with the other hand
Drink every time they use chum
Drink whenever they use a steel cage to look at sharks.
Drink twice whenever a shark rams into said cage
Drink every time a tourist gets its life fucked by a shark (read: mauled)
Drink for every underwater camera shot showing a surfer or someone swimming
Drink every time someone says "prey"
Drink for every shark survival tip
Drink twice if it's the most obvious thing you've ever heard
Drink for every "local shark historian" and finish your drink if you think that's not the best job you've ever heard of, because you're an asshole
Drink for every Australian interviewed
You should be drinking Landshark beer or some other liquid with the word "shark" in it
Alright, kiddos. That's what I've got for ya. If you don't hear from me for a few days, I'm either working or doing any number of things in the above list.
Hey, blogfriends. AD post is coming by Thursday of this week, to the none of you who were super concerned. I start writing, then go on YouTube and wake up and it's two weeks later. Oops~* Now, the the current content:
Pt. 1: Steve Earle is the MAN (or, alternatively, gon' country)
Pt. 2: Harry Potter is ruining my life (but I'm cool with it)
Pt. 1: Sunday evening, Taylor and I went to see Steve Earle & the Dukes & Duchesses at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee. Not sure if I have mentioned the Pabst before, but it is a fantastic historic venue that I highly recommend.
Before the concert, Taylor and I focused on gettin' country, which essentially means dressing how we normally do, but with a more patriotic attitude. Also, singing a song from "Country Strong" over and over.
you're welcome
The show was great. They played for a solid three hours. Steve's stage banter was witty and hilarious, and also reminiscent of his son's when I saw Justin live in February. Allison Moorer, Steve's wife, performed a cover of "A Change is Gonna Come" that literally brought me to tears. Fantastic. And to seal the evening, Steve's guitar strap was marked with a "Stand with Wisconsin" button. I love him.
Pt. 2: Roughly ten years ago, a series of books came out. Harry Potter. At the time, I was a young asshole, with the nerdy attitude of, "I read Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter is for babies!!" What a dick, right? Right. I am seeing the error of my ways... now. I am on book three after about five days of reading. So, I'm like, really popular.
EXAMPLES OF HP LIFE RUINING:
my text message responses ("wish i could use my magic outside of skool :(")
I somehow got a broken blood vessel all up in my right eye. response to "what happened to your eye?" -- "JUST CALL ME MAD EYE" or "wizard's chess" or "wizard's duel" or "whomping willow" and more!!
I am going to Madison for the day tomorrow to spend time with friends but secretly hope at least one person cancels so I can sit on the Union Terrace and read
In conclusion, try to overlook any talk of wizarding in the next few entries. I'm a monster. I cannot be stopped.
Job hunting is the worst. Job hunting in a good economy sucks (probably? wouldn't know) and job hunting in a poor economy is... worse than sucks. I'm not even a real person yet! I just want a food service job! Yes, yes, I am lucky to have hardware store job back, but I need more hours so I can "save" and still "have fun".
Speaking of hardware store job, first day back is tomorrow. Not too worried, except that I have to be there at 7:50. AM. As you may or may not know, it's very important to know how much I am NOT a morning person. I can't even pretend to be a morning person. The closest to liking the morning I come is when I stay up all night talking with friends and then we watch the sunrise. Even then, though, I note how bright the sun is, and how abrasive it is to my eyes. I may be part vampire.
Speaking of vampires, am I on fire with these transitions or what?! Damn it, lost that train of thought due to self-pride. I was probably going to talk about True Blood. Oh, well. It's probably best I don't, anyway, because that's of course coming up in my TV series of blogs (or blog series of TV?), and we can't spoil that. Because it actually exists, I promise. I will not be exiting the home for the next few evenings due to exhaustion from work and subsequent hatred of the world, so I'll be working on that.
This is mostly an entry to show hey! I'm alive! Don't think I'm on suicide watch based on my last entry! Sorry about that! Exclamation!!!
Here's a gift. It is relevant to my life because I hate working out, but have been doing it a lot anyway.
P.S. If you're in this Midwest heat wave, let's pray for each other that we don't melt. 20 Hail Marys GO
WARNING: This post is way more personal than normal. Feelings are involved. Proceed at your own risk. Okay, okay. I promised my Arrested Development post a week ago. But! I have good reason to be late on it. It is as follows: (1) birthday festivities, (2) brief mental breakdown, (3) results of aforementioned breakdown. While this probably sounds really dramatic, and actually kind of... has been, I'm fine, everything's fine, we're all fine, etc.
(1) Last weekend I came home to have a lovely backyard BBQ birthday bash with my friends. Papa Roy cooked, Kelsey made the cake, it was absolutely wonderful, minus all the mosquitoes (which I only mention because my bites are still killin' me).
(2) I drove Kels and myself back to Minneapolis, and upon coming into the city, the sky started to fall. Driving in storms is one of my worst fears. I can't see, others can't, terrible. I kept it pretty together enough to drop Kelsey off at her home, and then promptly began having a big ol' panic attack. Not just about the rain, but being back, not being around 98% of the people who like me, just everything. I finally admitted to myself that I was not enjoying my time in Minneapolis. If it weren't for my stubbornness and the ol' "pull self up by bootstraps" mentality I had been raised with, I probably would have realized and accepted this earlier. But, I didn't.
(3) I moved home. Today I packed up a car full of stuff, and I'm sitting at my parents' house with my dog as I type this. So, in the past week I quit my job at the Daily (sadly), got my old job back at your local hardware store (mixed feelings on this one), and did my best to hang out with as many Minneapolis friends as I could (I did okay). Overall, as soon as I got over the initial shock of my need to do something so drastic, this week was great. I was able to appreciate the city way more when it didn't feel like a prison, if that makes any sense whatsoever.
So, I'm here for the rest of the summer for sure and will probably be taking fall semester off as well. I have not been in the right mental or emotional state to be taking care of myself and thus... mostly haven't been. If I have spoken to you in the past week and claimed "family issues", please do not take offense. It's way easier to say that than, "Oh, yeah, clinically depressed to a nonfunctional point and need my parents to help take care of me again HAHA!"
That being said, I already miss my Minneapolis friends, but it is good to be home. It has been a rough... long... time to say the least. I have learned a lot about myself, the beast that is depression, and my relationships with others. While myself and my condition have been an understandable wedge in a few of my friendships, the support I have gained from others has really shown me that I am beyond lucky to have who I have in my life. They have been endlessly supportive, and I feel blessed every day for that.
I'm not going to read this over (gasp) because it will make me self conscious and I'll never post it never. I promise next post will be funny again. Here's a picture of karaoke from last night to prove I can still be funny, or at least sing Third Eye Blind AND Taylor Swift, which is almost the same thing:
Most (read: all) of these follow every cliche piece of advice you have ever heard. Why read these? Well, I'd like to think that as a white Christian college-age female, I have a really unique perspective. In reality, I just saw a centipede crawl across the lamp that is startlingly close to my bed, so I shall not be sleeping any time soon. Perfect time for giving advice that no one asked for, am I right? NOTE: I started writing this at 3 AM this morning. Coherency was at a suspiciously high level, probably due to the fear component.
Maintain the ability to laugh at yourself and your situation. Embrace the fact that you have centipedes living in your apartment. Make a centipede killer with paper towel and a Swiffer you have only used for cleaning once. Show it to friends and jokingly brag about it. (It's not like that's the only thing I can focus on right now or anything...) There are so many things that lend themselves to two responses: (1) complain and pout or (2) laugh about. I have no scientific proof of this, but if you choose the latter I am fairly certain you will live longer. But, proven fact (by no one), you will most certainly enjoy things way more.
Keep your friends close, keep your enemies somewhere else, preferably another continent. Truth be told, maybe it's the lack of business competition fervor power-suit-under-all-my-clothes...ness, but I never really understood the whole "keep your enemies closer" thing. If you have enemies, wouldn't it be absolutely miserable keeping them around? I know I don't want to live like that.
That being said, do keep your friends close. Whether for the aesthetic purposes of having a good-looking bridal party (I'm looking at you, ladies--KNOW YOUR PLACE) or the actual purpose of "not being alone in the world", it's just a good idea. I know this past year, I have had a handful of friends that have kept me as close to sane as I will ever be. They're the ones who assure me that I'm funny, trick me into thinking I'm smart, and notice when I'm wearing my nice push-up bra and tell me what a quality job it's doing.
Don't waste your time with shit that (A) you don't enjoy OR (B) isn't getting you toward something you enjoy. I need to emphasize the reason for point (B). As a college student, I do a lot of shit I don't enjoy. While I actually do like my job most of the time, it is still a job, and we all know what I like more than working--say it with me--NAPPING and EATING! (Thanks, studio audience!) Half my classes I rarely get the point of, but both of these things are getting me to where I want to be. In the case of my job, it's helping me maintain the place where I live, training my centipede army before we commence battle against my neighbors. For my classes, they're leading me to law school which will lead me to a government job where maybe in 20 years I'm able to do something to help fix the broken system that is American education so others don't have to go through this mundane, useless process!! Also, I enjoy run-on sentences. Suck it.
But seriously. I honestly apply this to everything. I use to stick it out regardless of enjoyment, but in this past year my new policy has served me well. I dropped a couple of classes that were making me miserable. If I'm watching a movie and it stresses me out, I turn that thing off! Movies are for fun times, not stressful times. Like Black Swan. Never watching that again, it would break my rule and also my brain.
Don't be afraid of doing things by yourself. This is something I almost always encourage my friends to do. Just because you do something by yourself doesn't mean you don't have friends, it just means you want to hang out alone. That concert you really want to see but no one else wants to go to? Go alone. In the mood for a fancy dinner but none of your friends feel like spending the money? Just go. First of all, it's such a waste of time waiting on other people when you could be out doing fun things. Secondly, in my experience, people seem to think I'm a way more interesting person when I'm out by myself. This obviously lends itself to me pretending to be someone else and inevitably scaring people off... with my charm? But seriously. Don't chicken out.
It's okay to look stupid sometimes. This isn't really advice, and sort of overlaps with a couple of the other sentiments previously mentioned, but I think this is something people dwell on too much. I used to freeze up in horror if anyone ever even mentioned something I did that was embarassing ever, even if it was in childhood. Maybe this came with maturity (unlikely), but I have finally reached a point where I could honestly give a shit if I look dumb doing much of anything. This blog, for example, may be the biggest waste of time I have ever committed to, but I can honestly say I do not care even a little bit. I am enjoying myself (see above advice on life enjoyment) and expressing a sense of humor about myself (see first piece of advice), so I shall continue.
Stay tuned tomorrow or Friday for my first post on television! Like the topic of television, it won't be actually on any television sets. Spoiler alert!!!: It's about Arrested Development. Yeah, it includes YouTube clips. You're welcome.
What's up, three high class readers? I am back in Minneapolis after being home for 'merica weekend, following Roy family tradition of gathering to celebrate this most sacred holiday. I felt sicko for 98% of the day today, but finally caught a second wind of health about an hour ago. I really haven't been treating my body right, so I decided to start by visiting my dearest Emily at work at Birchwood Cafe. All their food comes from local farmers, thus helping rebuild Minnesota's shitshow of an economy right now! Mmm government shutdown. So here I am, bloggin' at the Birchwood, wondering if there is any way I could physically be more hip. I think I maxed out. But it's awesome, because I have reached my maximum hipness at a way lower level than almost anyone else here! Advantage: Alicia. Disadvantage: Minnesota, the hippest state in the Union.
Anyway, anyway. This post is about Loretta Lynn, AS IT SHOULD BE. I went to see this country goddess at Summerfest whilst home in Milwaukee, and let me tell ya--homegirl still has it. Oh, does she ever! At 79 (or something old), she was up on stage in a huge purple sparkly country queen gown, sounding just as wonderful as I remember her in my childhood. The concert started with 20 minutes of confusion as her kids or daughters or someone that I now hate opened for her with the pop country bullshit that sounded like a bitter, aging Taylor Swift who just happened to have a twin. Honey, just because you are named after Patsy Cline doesn't mean you can pretend that gives you any legitimacy.
Moving on. Loretta gets on stage, killin' it from the first note. She is charming, personable, and as I may or may not have yelled at her 3-4 times, "LORETTA, YOU ARE A QUEEN AMONG PEASANTS!!!" That being said, the crowd around us was not half as enthusiastic as we were, leading me to believe they are terrorists or something. Who comes to a Loretta Lynn concert to stand still and glare at the stage? Terrorists. (This will probably get me on the government watch list. GOVERNMENT, this is meant to be humorous and not an actual accusation of terrorism! Very important distinction!!) Some country young man who apparently sang before Loretta came onstage to do a duet with her, and as he kissed her on a cheek I was also prompted to shout, "GIT IT, LORETTA!" which led to me receiving more glares.
I guess I should mention we were pretty far back and there was no way Loretta could hear my enthusiasm, but you should also know that has never stopped me before. She deserves this encouragement, whether she can hear it or not! Some 98% of Loretta Lynn songs are about her husband cheating on her or being drunk or stealing her money. So, yeah, I WILL applaud when some hot young southern boy kisses her. I will applaud it loudly.
Speaking of hot young... oh wait. When Taylor and I went to the concert, we assumed/hoped/dreamed there would be some hip young menfolk there. This is a fair assumption, since hipsters like old country. I am unsure why this has become a thing, but it apparently has. However, none showed their hip little faces nor their lanky frames at Summerfest that night. Missed Connection: Anyone Attractive at Loretta Lynn?!?!
Theme of the night: shouting and swaying, sometimes at the same time.
Now to the second part of this bad boy of a post: the future. I feel like I have gotten into a good rhythm with the ol' blog. Starting this week, you can expect to be introduced to my miniseries about television (get it?!), and coming soon will be another music post. But also, I seek your guidance, dearest three readers. What would YOU like to read about here? Suggestions, recommendations, etc., would all be appreciated. I have a plethora of useless information up in my noggin, and any excuse to bust it out will be jumped on.
I must thank you. Apparently at least 1/3 of you three people told a friend or two to look at the ol' blog, because my page views yesterday were the highest they have ever been! I really, really appreciate it. It's probably not evident at all, but I actually put a lot of time and effort into this bad boy, and it's nice to know that people appreciate it. Or that they click the link and glance at the pictures. That's cool too. Here's something to look at:
As a reward and/or punishment for your loyalty, I am proud to present my TIPS FOR BIRTHDAYS!!1
1. Remix "Birthday Sex" by Jerimih with your activities. You know that terrible R&B song that came out a couple years ago "Birthday Sex"? If you don't, find it on YouTube and watch just enough to get to the chorus. Basically, it's just the words "birth-day sex" repeated a few times. The point is, just say everything you're going to do on your birthday to the tune of that chorus. Examples include:
birthday snacks
birthday naps
birthday cats
birthday raps
birthday dance
birthday drunk
birthday Beyonce
birthday taxidermy
Be creative. It's your birthday. Whatever you say, just shout, "THE REEEEEEMIIIIIX!" after and it doesn't matter if it makes sense or not. In my case, it never matters if it makes sense, but bitches can't give you shit on your birthday.
2. Don't let bitches give you shit on your birthday. Can't take shit on your birthday, especially from bitches.
3.Have an awesome mama. Oh, wait, not your choice, suckas! But look what my mom sent to me at work:
CUPCAKES wut it do
My coworkers also enjoyed these a great deal and I got to pander for "happy birthday" wishes while passing out snacks. Win/win/win.
4. Do whatever you want. Seriously. If you don't feel like going out, don't. What I really hate about my birthday is how after, everyone feels like they need to ask what you did and act disappointed if you say you didn't do shit. It is the evening of my birthday, and I am sitting in my bed in my underwear in front of a fan because it was hot as hell today. I watched Arrested Development and some Netflix movies. I ate chocolate covered peanuts and maple candies. I went out to dinner and ate a burger stuffed with cheese and bacon. (You read that right. Cheese and bacon. INSIDE A BURGER. It's like a fucking unicorn, in that it's my wildest dream.) It was awesome. But when I inevitably have to verbalize that to people, I will get shit for it, and it won't be my birthday anymore so I won't be able to let out my birthday alter ego, Beyonce. Probably.
me on my birthday, the female version of a hustla'
This tip/rule/whatever also includes how I just watched the season finale of The Voice on Hulu and seeing Adam Levine cry made me tear up. Yeah. I don't give a shit. It's my birthday. He's my birthday angel. Birthday diva. I also watched Country Strong, a film about a country star hitting rock bottom. Funny, because me sitting eating a cupcake in my underwear watching Country Strong on my birthday was probably my own rock bottom. Only time I have ever identified with Gwenyth Paltrow.
5. Respond to as many statements as possible with, "THAT WAS MY BIRTHDAY WISH!!! THANK YOU, ______!" Funny with friends, funnier with strangers. If you can find a way to skip out of the conversation, it would really help.
6. If you want to give yourself a weird haircut, do it the night before your birthday. Due to tip #2, you can't take shit on your birthday. You might look crazy or like a 1980s David Bowie in the video for "China Girl", but it's your birthday. When it's straight it might look like Jane from the 90s hit show Melrose Place.
me
damn it, Charlie
did you get the Melrose Place reference? You better have
7. Eat cake, look adorable all the time, stay a kid forever. Figure it out, man. Through science or magic.
I DID IT WHY CAN'T YOU
That's what I got for birthday tips (did you sing it? you were supposed to).
It's not my birthday anymore. RIP, Beyonce alter ego. See ya next year.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I do not like my birthday. I just submitted a Thought Catalog essay on the topic, so hopefully that gets accepted! I'll keep you loyal three fans of mine updated, of course. If it doesn't get published there, I'll post it here. Like a combo of sloppy seconds and just... rejected shit. You're welcome.
Two of things that I have done every year on or near my day of birth is (A) get all nostalgic, which can be good and bad, and (B) research shit that has happened on June 30 in years past. (You'd think I was a student of history or something, right?)
(A) I normally end up crying at some point. I almost never cry, so when I do, it's a hot mess. Here's where I stop talking about nostalgia, because it's risky in the tear duct area at the moment.
(B) Last night I learned that Jeffrey Dahmer committed one of his murders on my birthday in the year I was born in the city I was born in! That shouldn't end in an exclamation. It's messed up. But also, interesting. Right? Or am I just creepy? Whatever.
Why did I learn point (B) you ask? Well, while I was working at the front desk yesterday, I had the option of being productive or... not. I chose the latter. Obviously, this opportunity prompted me to go on Wikipedia and read about American murder cases, especially 19th century serial killers. I'm going to plead "history major" on this one and not "closet freak" because I'm really not. (Or am I? Just kidding. (Or am I?))
If you find this interesting as I do, or even mildly interesting, here are a couple of people/cases to consider reading into: Bloody Benders Jeffrey Dahmer -- YEAH, MILWAUKEE! Walter Ellis -- YEAH, MILWAUKEE!! Nannie Doss -- Only because her nickname was "Giggling Granny"
I have more, but I'll keep my creepy level down just a bit this evening.
UPDATE: Since I took all day to write this dang thing, it now actually is my birthday. So I'm going to consume this bag of chocolate covered peanuts and Diet Coke and watch 30 Rock until I fall asleep.
But, hey. If you wonderful people want to give me a present (which you do) and it's not the new True Blood line of makeup from Tarte (which it should be), consider telling a friend or six about this blog. If it has made you laugh, cringe, smile, or pray for my soul, chances are someone else... might... like it? Eh?
I leave you with Ron Swanson's feelings on birthdays:
UPDATE: The intro to this entry is a lie. I'm not in Florida anymore, but it's kind of funny, and I wish I was still there, so I'm good with living a lie in a run-on sentence format.
Hey, kiddos. I am still on vacation, sitting in Anna's bed with her dog while she is at work. Stayed up making sure Anna's brother became more worldly to make friends, aka showed him parts 1-13 of R.Kelly's classic hip-hopera "Trapped in the Closet".
Let me tell you about our New Orleans Adventures!!
DAY 1
We drove through the night running on only adrenaline and crazy and arrived in Nola around noon (or something, the point is kind of early). Got to the hotel, and our room was obviously not ready. So we dropped off our car and our stuff and commenced day drinking.
Day drinking can be the best thing ever or the worst thing ever. To help create a fun, friendly day drunk environment, follow these easy tips!
1. Pace yourself. Nothing ruins day drinking like too much too fast. Remember, it's daytime, so the sun is out. People can see you. 2. Keep in mind that everyone you interact with is probably sober. This is key, because you will definitely be laughed at. For example, as I articulated via text message to Allison, "W are the laughing stoc k ignite joltek o" followed by "Wr are the laughing stock of the hotel". Oops. 3. If you are someone who texts drunk, have a safe drunk texting person. Actually, this is good advice for regular drinking as well. As stated above, Allison and I have an unspoken agreement that we can text/call each other in times of drunk, and it is acceptable. This is extremely important, because if you have your phone out and no one you really need to say anything to, sober or drunk, you will most certainly end up calling and ex, crush, or boss. It is a terrible truth for those of us who believe that communication is important, even when it is clearly not at all. 4. Don't go into stores. Drunk shopping is expensive shopping. 5. Wash your hands. You might do shit like this:
BYOTire
6. Schedule a nap time. If you intend on continuing your activities into the night, your options are either (A) take a nap or (B) probably die. In our case, we took a 5 hour nap, woke up at 10, rallied, and went out again.
Proof that we rallied and managed to look good
Following my tips, you are almost guaranteed a wonderful day drinking experience. Optional: follow Annalise's and my example with the [soon-to-be] classic CHUMBAWUMBA PUB CRAWL.
For those of you who don't understand the concept of the pub crawl based on title alone, allow me to explain through the brilliant lyrics of "Tubthumping": He drinks a Whiskey drink, he drinks a Vodka drink. He drinks a Lager drink, he drinks a Cider drink. Quite simple. Repeat.
DAY 2
Yeah, bitches, got a tattoo.
Day 2 consisted of way more day drinking, including classy beverages such as a mimosa that was 98% champagne (in a plastic cup because we got it to-go) and delicious Abita craft beers and also some less classy drinks like our "SHOTS" pub crawl. For the sake of truth, the pub crawl was one bar post-tattoo and the "SHOTS" crawl was much less lyrically accurate than our Chumbawumba success. It mostly just involved Annalise making me do shots. For the record, I hate shots. Alcoholic, medical, from a gun that I am not shooting, etc.
We took another nap (see a pattern?!) and went out again, starting at the Absinthe Bar on Bourbon. I swear to Jesus, if anyone gives me crap about whatever we drank and how it wasn't real absinthe, I will lose it. The point is that the shots were $20 and tasted like shit and 136 proof and killed Anna. Not really, but homegirl was out before it was her real birthday at midnight.
Did I mention she was wearing a headdress? Idol
She waited to pass out until after bull riding
This brings me to the portion of the story where I made friends. While Anna was riding the bull, I got a new girlfriend!! It went something like this.
Alicia: [sitting at bar]
Romanian Girlfriend: Hello. I am love your tattoo. It is new?
A: Oh, thank you! It's new.
RGF: So sexy. You ride bull, yes?
A: No, no, thank you.
RGF: [hands coupon to ride bull for free]
You are sexy beautiful. Where are you from?
A: Minneapolis.
RGF: What is Minakfgkafs? I am from Romania.
A: Minnesota.
RGF: Where is Minnesota? But yes, you are beautiful sexy. You must ride bull and do shot.
A: Okay, I will.
[runs away]
So, I'm rounding that scenario up to having a new Romanian girlfriend, jealous?
The pun portion comes in at the name of the bar: BOURBON COWBOY. Get it? Bourbon Street. Rhymes with urban. I love puns. Not ironically, genuinely.
Anyway, after Anna had sleepy time, I decided it was too early to quit, so I ventured out toward Decatur. Since it was rainy, homeless folk were lining the sidewalk. One told me I was going to have a boy and asked me to pet her pet bat. I said in my head, "Hey! If you're accusing me of being pregnant, that is rude. If you're talking about finding a boyfriend, that's just a lie. Also, where are half your teeth?!" Aloud, I said, "What? Bye!"
I went to a townie bar where they had Strawberry Abita lager on special and did sodoku and played Patsy Cline on the jukebox and talked to the bartenders about the Midwest. It was great. Got beignets, went back to hotel.
I love New Orleans.
I apologize that this is hardly my best writing, I just feel like there's so much to say about this trip and it's better to be efficient than eloquent. But, to be fair, I feel like that's usually my way of going about things.
Now that I'm back, I'm in a major post-vacation crash period. Definitely started crying in the cab ride home, oops. Sorry Somali cab driver!! Real life is hard and I miss Annalise and Nola and being allowed a temporary alcoholic lifestyle. I'll sleep it off tomorrow and it will be improved, I'm sure.
If you got through all this, let me know that I owe you a firm handshake of appreciation.
