I didn't really go to jail. But I DID get in major trouble for a certain misdemeanor. Had to do community service and everything.
Salad bowls are right up there with Faberge eggs and Maltese falcons, apparently.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
ectothermic
I am becoming remarkably bad at maintaining my own body temperature. I feel very much like a lizard.
This would not be so bad if I WAS a lizard - if I got too hot, I could just lounge in the shade. if I got too cold, I could go bask on a big black rock.
Except I'm not a lizard and I don't have any big black rocks.
Since it is summer and I'm privileged, my house is well air-conditioned. This is something NOBODY SHOULD EVER COMPLAIN ABOUT. But here I am, pathetic as all get-out, catching a draft while dozing on the couch.
I've learned to simulate the warmth of a basking rock indoors without the ungainliness of installing a gargantuan solar-heated slab in the living room and distressing other family members. Solution? Jackets. I own 3 of them, all of different materials, thicknesses, and gradients of black. And if I find myself EXTRA chilled, I can rotate between them, layering even.
A small level of toastiness has been attained indoors.
This would not be so bad if I WAS a lizard - if I got too hot, I could just lounge in the shade. if I got too cold, I could go bask on a big black rock.
Except I'm not a lizard and I don't have any big black rocks.
Since it is summer and I'm privileged, my house is well air-conditioned. This is something NOBODY SHOULD EVER COMPLAIN ABOUT. But here I am, pathetic as all get-out, catching a draft while dozing on the couch.
I've learned to simulate the warmth of a basking rock indoors without the ungainliness of installing a gargantuan solar-heated slab in the living room and distressing other family members. Solution? Jackets. I own 3 of them, all of different materials, thicknesses, and gradients of black. And if I find myself EXTRA chilled, I can rotate between them, layering even.
A small level of toastiness has been attained indoors.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
A Decemberous Miracle
I'm writing for the first time in months because this story is far too good for me to pass up.
Finally through with the semester, you're safe to assume I've spent all day lazing about. I've even managed to run out of snackables, which is tragic, considering food is a source of supplemental entertainment for me.
Today was marked by stretching to the absolute limit of passing time just... because... I had to. While on my 4th hour of watching online show re-runs, something out of the corner of my screen-affixed eyes caught my attention: my mother stood in the dining room, with a box.
This was not very extraordinary. Boxes are relatively common to receive at houses wherein the residents shop online or have generous relatives during the holidays. But what WAS extraordinary was my mother's hesitance to open it.
Emitting various "Hmm!"s and "huh"s, I found upon further inquiry that while the address was 100% ours, the names attached were NOT ours. My mother is no more a "Laurence" than I am. What's more, it was from a Judy and a Cliff, with love - I kid you not when I say I have never even MET a Judy nor a Cliff, let alone in combination. And I certainly expect no love from them.
My mother, being honorable and moral, called the company that sent it - a holiday gift-basket type company, y'know, the kind that sends fruits and nuts - and after a good ten minutes on the phone with a representative, they came up with only one solution: ENJOY IT. That's right. There was no return address or number to contact. It was ours.
Overwhelmed with the glee of impending free edibles, I expected my mother to open it. The box even SAID "Open Immediately". But my mother refused on the grounds of the upcoming dinnertime and - more likely - maternal rights to torture. Luckily my aggressive older sister caught word of the free package and ripped into it before my mother even knew she was in the house.
And more miraculous than receiving it was its contents: AN ENORMOUS BASKET OF COOKIES.
It's a Decemberous Miracle for me, my family, and my sweet-teeth! There's enough even for it to last until my twin sister gets home at the end of the week (maybeeee...)!
Now some of you reading this might be sitting there, thinking. "How horrible! That belongs to somebody else and you know it!" "That's it? You're not going to look into this further?" "Have you no guilt? Have you no SOUL?"
All I can say is that while I may be lacking a conscience or maybe even a human soul, I do not lack one thing: cookies.
Finally through with the semester, you're safe to assume I've spent all day lazing about. I've even managed to run out of snackables, which is tragic, considering food is a source of supplemental entertainment for me.
Today was marked by stretching to the absolute limit of passing time just... because... I had to. While on my 4th hour of watching online show re-runs, something out of the corner of my screen-affixed eyes caught my attention: my mother stood in the dining room, with a box.
This was not very extraordinary. Boxes are relatively common to receive at houses wherein the residents shop online or have generous relatives during the holidays. But what WAS extraordinary was my mother's hesitance to open it.
Emitting various "Hmm!"s and "huh"s, I found upon further inquiry that while the address was 100% ours, the names attached were NOT ours. My mother is no more a "Laurence" than I am. What's more, it was from a Judy and a Cliff, with love - I kid you not when I say I have never even MET a Judy nor a Cliff, let alone in combination. And I certainly expect no love from them.
My mother, being honorable and moral, called the company that sent it - a holiday gift-basket type company, y'know, the kind that sends fruits and nuts - and after a good ten minutes on the phone with a representative, they came up with only one solution: ENJOY IT. That's right. There was no return address or number to contact. It was ours.
Overwhelmed with the glee of impending free edibles, I expected my mother to open it. The box even SAID "Open Immediately". But my mother refused on the grounds of the upcoming dinnertime and - more likely - maternal rights to torture. Luckily my aggressive older sister caught word of the free package and ripped into it before my mother even knew she was in the house.
And more miraculous than receiving it was its contents: AN ENORMOUS BASKET OF COOKIES.
It's a Decemberous Miracle for me, my family, and my sweet-teeth! There's enough even for it to last until my twin sister gets home at the end of the week (maybeeee...)!
Now some of you reading this might be sitting there, thinking. "How horrible! That belongs to somebody else and you know it!" "That's it? You're not going to look into this further?" "Have you no guilt? Have you no SOUL?"
All I can say is that while I may be lacking a conscience or maybe even a human soul, I do not lack one thing: cookies.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
NEW THINGS
A new blog post! I'll admit it. I forgot I even had a blog for a while. I kinda go to college, which makes me kinda busy. Apparently.
ALSO: I have a new laptop! It's shiny and black and ultimately terrifying. I've technically had it for a month or so but I've been afraid to actually use it, to the disdain of my fellows. I guess this blog serves to show my official transition to the Shiny McGee. (Though my trusty green Monster's still right next to my desk, just in case.)
Though there are perks to any new computer, I just hit a major speed bump:
MICROSOFT PAINT IS TOTALLY NEW AND DIFFERENT.
ALSO: I have a new laptop! It's shiny and black and ultimately terrifying. I've technically had it for a month or so but I've been afraid to actually use it, to the disdain of my fellows. I guess this blog serves to show my official transition to the Shiny McGee. (Though my trusty green Monster's still right next to my desk, just in case.)
Though there are perks to any new computer, I just hit a major speed bump:
MICROSOFT PAINT IS TOTALLY NEW AND DIFFERENT.
I think I know how to get its settings close to the janky old version we all know in love.
... Close enough.
Monday, September 19, 2011
broken laptop
As you may have inferred from the title, my laptop is broken.
And I don't mean broken like I'm dumb and it's slow cuz, being dumb, I download everything I click on. I don't even mean it's broken like hyper-virus infection broken (though there have been those moments).
When I say "broken", I mean my laptop and life source for the past three years is Schwarzenegger-as-Terminator, shot-up-and-falling-apart broken.
Not even duct tape can rescue it at this point. It's become so unholy as to resist the duct tape. It RESISTS the duct tape! What kind of evil machine can - WOULD - do such a thing?!
A laptop past its warranty is apparently its own free agent. If it tries to kill me, I may just have to put it down.
OH GOD IT KNOWS I'M TYPING THIS. AUUGHH---
And I don't mean broken like I'm dumb and it's slow cuz, being dumb, I download everything I click on. I don't even mean it's broken like hyper-virus infection broken (though there have been those moments).
When I say "broken", I mean my laptop and life source for the past three years is Schwarzenegger-as-Terminator, shot-up-and-falling-apart broken.
Not even duct tape can rescue it at this point. It's become so unholy as to resist the duct tape. It RESISTS the duct tape! What kind of evil machine can - WOULD - do such a thing?!
A laptop past its warranty is apparently its own free agent. If it tries to kill me, I may just have to put it down.
OH GOD IT KNOWS I'M TYPING THIS. AUUGHH---
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Trip, fall, fail
This happens to me a lot.
Followed by this.
Because I trip and fall often, and mostly on stairs, my legs almost always look like this.
You can tell that I have a problem here. I'm trying to identify the source of the problem in order to find a solution. I don't think my toes have grown longer, and I doubt my center of gravity is shifting. I'm just a klutzy lady and that's all there is to it.
Amputation seems like the most illogical, impractical, and sure-fire option to me at this juncture. I don't know whether to cut off my toes, saw at the knee, or just lop off my entire lower half. I shall consult a surgeon post-haste!
Followed by this.
Because I trip and fall often, and mostly on stairs, my legs almost always look like this.
You can tell that I have a problem here. I'm trying to identify the source of the problem in order to find a solution. I don't think my toes have grown longer, and I doubt my center of gravity is shifting. I'm just a klutzy lady and that's all there is to it.
Amputation seems like the most illogical, impractical, and sure-fire option to me at this juncture. I don't know whether to cut off my toes, saw at the knee, or just lop off my entire lower half. I shall consult a surgeon post-haste!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Extra Meat
The dining hall has switched from serve-yourself buffet style to a more personable ask-and-ye-shall-receive method. The food is surprisingly better, but it would seem they almost anticipated the dangers of all-you-can-eat goodness and added the asking policy for better security.
The idea is that everybody gets one serving, fair and square.
This presents a problem for people (like me) who want - rather, NEED - extra breakfast meat. The early dose of protein is what gets the carnivore inside me through the day. If I am not allowed to have an overflowing plate of bacon at least twice a week, things get ugly.
Luckily I'm not one to give up on my usual routine so easily. I realized early on that the only thing stopping me from unlimited meaty breakfastry is an old lady with a chef's hat and serving tongs. Compared to the usual brick wall or giant fallen sycamore, that's not that much of an obstacle.
As effective as it would be to overpower her in a brief altercation and steal the entire tray of bacon, I know this would only work once and I'd probably be arrested long before I could finish consuming my greasy delicious trophy. No, the only way to get past the serving drone was through... her heart.
With wide-eyed and bright-smiled wonder that would match any cartoon princess, I bat my eyes at the food-woman and feign interest in her well-being, all the while slightly sucking in my more prodigious parts to seem like I'm slightly starving and in dire need of extra scraps.
I noticed an almost immediate result when the girl in front of me in the line asked for "lots of bacon". Disappointed in the amount, she asked for "extra". Upon my turn, I simply asked the breakfast granny 1. how her morning has been and 2. for bacon.
Here's a visual aid of the result.
Sure, there's not much difference in mass between three and three and a HALF, but think of those ratios! That halfish one is like four pieces. So a poor girl asked for extra and got only 3 pieces instead of my unrequested (yet deserved) 4. Her bacon ratio of 3/4 is like 75% which is like a C grade. That is WAY sub-par to my 100% A+ bacon satisfaction.
I guess my point is: I'm cute and I get extra bacon for it.
The idea is that everybody gets one serving, fair and square.
This presents a problem for people (like me) who want - rather, NEED - extra breakfast meat. The early dose of protein is what gets the carnivore inside me through the day. If I am not allowed to have an overflowing plate of bacon at least twice a week, things get ugly.
Luckily I'm not one to give up on my usual routine so easily. I realized early on that the only thing stopping me from unlimited meaty breakfastry is an old lady with a chef's hat and serving tongs. Compared to the usual brick wall or giant fallen sycamore, that's not that much of an obstacle.
As effective as it would be to overpower her in a brief altercation and steal the entire tray of bacon, I know this would only work once and I'd probably be arrested long before I could finish consuming my greasy delicious trophy. No, the only way to get past the serving drone was through... her heart.
I noticed an almost immediate result when the girl in front of me in the line asked for "lots of bacon". Disappointed in the amount, she asked for "extra". Upon my turn, I simply asked the breakfast granny 1. how her morning has been and 2. for bacon.
Here's a visual aid of the result.
Sure, there's not much difference in mass between three and three and a HALF, but think of those ratios! That halfish one is like four pieces. So a poor girl asked for extra and got only 3 pieces instead of my unrequested (yet deserved) 4. Her bacon ratio of 3/4 is like 75% which is like a C grade. That is WAY sub-par to my 100% A+ bacon satisfaction.
I guess my point is: I'm cute and I get extra bacon for it.
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