Dear Commercial America

You're not fooling anybody: for instance, when I go into Walmart and pick up a bottle of your oh-too-early-to-be-on-the-bottle-yet Santa Coca-Cola, you can say Holiday 2009 all you want, but when you write in Spanish "Feliz Navidad," we know what you're saying: Merry Christmas. Literally, Happy Nativity; either way, you're celebrating Christmas. So what? Now we gringos can't celebrate Christmas? Give me a break. You know, I was looking forward to drowning in the delicious sugary syrup that is Coca-Cola, and I say that with all honesty, but just because of that ridiculous commercial ploy, I may just change what I drink this season. Jameson's anyone??

On a similar note, I was staring oddly at my Wendy's cup tonight, and realized that the genius who came up with the quote on the cup needs to be fired, and here's why. It says, "Fresh beef is better than frozen." Really? Because the last time I checked Frozen was not a noun. So. Fail. Sir. That's what we call a dangling modifier. Great work commercial America.

Lastly, I was just perusing facebook, and it just drives me crazy when these ridiculous people get on acting all "i'm a super-christian!" but make a screwed up spelling mistake in their statuses when they write bible verses, like saying Jesus Chris instead of Christ. It just seems like if they were really that stoked about it all they would pay better attention.

Dear Murieli?

So, of late I've had some really odd adds on facebook, one of which was actually a person, but instead of having any pictures of herself, there were literally hundreds of cartoon pictures of little pink bears. It was confusing, but being desperate for online community in my life (or the fact that we had maybe ten mutual friends), I added her.

Well, today another amazing occurrence has taken place. Yesterday I was added by someone named Muriel, I guess. Anyway, we didn't have any mutual friends, so I did what anyone over the age of fifteen should be doing on facebook, write her a WHO YOU? message before accepting her request. Well, her response, was, I don't know, take a look:

"not pewrsonally but will be a joy and bliss having u j m a tibetan dzogchentheachingdevotet student from italy my name is murieli hope u will have me if not is ok fb can be very full radiant tashi delek and thanc for the happy blissfull fortnate group"

That is a direct quote. Need I say more?

Who are you, really, Murieli??

A Very Important Question

Last night I was watching tv after my nine-hour workday, and while pondering over my grandma's new perm, which looks something like this:



I began sort of wondering: what is going to happen to the permanent machines when all the now-old people are gone? People my age, and most of my parents' age do not get them. They will become obsolete? There has to be thousands of these creepy looking machines floating around the old boutiques in your area. What will be done with them all?

This is what came to me: a landfill full of these worthless devices. Seriously? Why didn't we think of this sooner? Call your local politicians, they'll probably write a letter and nothing will ever happen, until it's too late.

H1N-NASTYYY (and other important things)

So here's the deal. Two of the kids I live with have the H1N1 thing. I keep telling them they're going to turn into pigs, but they don't get the joke. I'm thinking about going to the doctor on Monday for some preventative Tamiflu, but the pediatrician said it's best to go ahead and get it and build up an immunity then to try to prevent it. It's kinda inevitable, I suppose. But with my health issues (although I realize they're minor compared to some people I know) I'm a little concerned. If something is in the air, I generally catch it... and on top of severe allergies, chronic sinus issues, and asthma... well, it's the last thing I need.

I mean, I guess H1N1 is the last thing anyone needs. Except maybe the 5-year old I live with. His mother said, "This is a good opportunity for you to learn to sit still." I'm not so sure he agrees. He then told me he hoped I got it. But only after first telling his mom he hoped she got it...

so he can "eat all of the candy in the house while she's in bed."

Not gonna happen, little turkey. You can give that one up right now.

But, I do have to say this. H1N1 is not deadly to the normal person. Everyone is freaking out about it. Understandable. But if you're in decent health and take care of yourself while you have it, it's almost exactly like the normal flu. This is straight from the doctor's mouth. Not mine. Just so you know.

SO QUIT WITH YOUR PROPAGANDA, MEDIA. I will not fear you, H1N1. I shall conquer.

(Probably because of Tamiful. But still, I win. You lose.)

To the Woman at Register 1, Ross, 2:46PM, Saturday:

You may think your matching short purple shorts and purse are the coolest thing since the Gaither Vocal Band, but I can assure you, miss(mrs? dunno), that I have seen pictures from 5(6?) years ago, and they definitely weren't hip then either.

PS-Neither were the snowmen hand towels you returned. Wait, why would you return hand towels? Were they a gift? Who says, you know, I need some hand towels for my bday. Seriously. Bad gift idea. So is not knowing your home well enough to buy them and them not match or something.

For the record, snowmen designs don't match your home, even in winter when your daughter brings the grandkids over to build one, which, duh, will never happen in this state.

Words and Whirlwinds

I'm pleased to announce the beginning of my new blog, Words and Whirlwinds, a site basically devoted to book reviews and other nerdy things.

http://wordsandwhirlwinds.blogspot.com

Tell all your friends.

CHINESE BUFFET.

Disclaimer:
Okay, so here's the deal. This story may not have many pictures. But I will describe things very vividly in an attempt to persuade your imagination to play along.


So, Robbie loves Chinese food. Which is weird because generally Robbie doesn't like anything but greasy American food. But recently, he's trying new things, branching out.

When I suggested Chinese food for dinner one evening when we first started dating he proceeded to tell me how his family went to a Chinese buffet for lunch every Sunday back in Alabama, but he would only eat the things that looked like chicken nuggets. I have since learned that he is referring to sweet and sour chicken, sans sweet and sour sauce.

Fast forward. Now he loves Chinese food more than me. It's very odd. Some of you know I have a weird issue with meat. Weird meat creeps me out. Don't ask me what I define as "weird meat." I eat hot dogs yet freak out over a tiny piece of fat on a piece of white-meat chicken. I think it has something to do with uniformity in texture possibly?

We occasionally eat Chinese food although I've started to avoid it all costs since it upsets my stomach more now that I'm dealing with some awful acid reflux issues. I suggested we eat the buffet close to where I work for lunch yesterday because I know he loves it and well, I get tired of eating the same bagel at Panera everyday.

I made a mental journal based on my observations while we were at the Chinese Buffet, and I'd like to share my thoughts with you now.

First, I love Cream Cheese Wontons. They are AMAZING. Out of this world amazing, yet awful for you. I usually eat like 10 of them. I only had 2 this time. It was hard. But I was saving room for lo-mein and ice cream.

As I was searching for chicken lo-mein, I passed something that looked rather out-of-the-ordinary. Mashed potatoes and gravy. I literally stopped and stared and thought WHO WOULD COME TO A CHINESE BUFFET FOR MASHED POTATOES AND GRAVY? Friendz, go to Cracker Barrell.

I located my coveted lo-mein and chowed down. Then it was time for my favorite buffet item: ICE CREAM.

Walked over to the machine. OUT OF ORDER.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? So, I pouted for a minute and stared at the other deserts. I saw banana pudding and got really excited. I wondered if it was reserved for the people who ate mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch but decided I could probably have some.

I sat down and quickly realized that apparently, to the Chinese Buffet Top-Chefs, the recipe for banana pudding goes something like this:

Banana-flavored pudding
Gross, nasty wafers

This further ruined my life. Obviously. Banana pudding is like sacred. Holy. I don't know, you don't eff with it like that. I was kinda offended. So then I looked at Robbie rather sheepishly and said "I need pictures for my blog so I can post about this trauma. Helpz?"

Robbie proceeded to creep around the buffet and try to take picures of things when no one was looking. We were unsuccessful. No pictures. Sad, I know.

However, I did get one blurry shot at the table of the banana pudding (minus bananas) and the random seed I found in it.



DEAR CHINESE BUFFET TOP-CHEFS,

MAYBE YOU SHOULD WORK ON NOT PUTTING A WEIRD SEED IN MY BANANA PUDDING AND WORK ON GETTING SOME BANANAS. JUST A THOUGHT.

THANKS,
AMANDA

Building Rome: Lesson One

Okay, before you read this at all, you should know this is ridiculous and simply comes from too much mental time on my hands to ponder such a random thing.

Sort of.

So I'm thinking, people say ridiculous things. It bugs me. Phrases. Things like, "Give 110%." That doesn't make sense. It is literally impossible to do better than you are physically able. It's like saying, see this gasoline. I'm going to give you 10 gallons, and you turn it into 11. Got that? Right. Impossible.

Rather than play dot-to-dot with all the annoying phrases that make no sense, I should focus on one that really just started bugging me.

"Rome wasn't built in a day."

Ok, so to just go over the facts, and to help you see my line of thinking, I know Rome was, actually, not built in a day. That is to say that the entirety of Rome was not built in a day, but then again, parts of it were, so there's already a discrepancy. This phrase is commonly used to help someone out with being patient while they are waiting to get something done or to see something accomplished. That got me to thinking. Of course, while the city wasn't built in a day, it certainly, most definitely, could have been built in a day, providing all the right equipment and a virtually limitless supply of slave labour (much of which they actually had).

My point is, the whole point of learning history (says just about every history person you will come across) is to learn from the mistakes of the past or to learn how to do things better than before. So what I'm saying is, if Rome wasn't built in a day, who cares? That in no way should affect my wanting to succeed at something in any sort of way. I want to do it better than Rome. Isn't that necessary?

Otherwise it seems to me that we're just meddling in thousands of years of historical excuses.

Conversations with Random People (Part One)

Setting: Thursday afternoon, Metanoia parking lot. Leaving work in a huge hurry with my hands full of promotional materials for an event I was running late for.

Random Guy: Hey, heyyy!

Me: Hi, how are you doing today?

Random Guy: Good, good. I know you, I know you, you're from N.A. right?

Me: N.A.? You mean Metanoia?

Random Guy: No, N.A. Narcotics Anonymous.

Me: Yeah, I don't go to that.

Random Guy: Oh, there's a girl in Narcotics Anonymous with the same car as you and I thought you were here. Well, it was nice to meet you, anyway.

Me: Yep.

90 Minutes in Heaven and Combos

Last night I was driving back from Asheville where I had an interview. I had recently eaten with my cousins and aunt and uncle there but wanted some comfort road food. I was struck with an uncontainable urge to have Combos. Yes, those little pizzas balled up and stuffed inside pretzels. Amazing, to be sure. Anyhow, I stop at a rest stop just over the SC border (IN SC), and to my dismay, the choices at the vending machines range from Tom's brand Pork Rinds to just about every style Honey Bun one can imagine.

I found this highly unfortunate.

Luckily, a few miles later, I stopped off at a gas station to pick up some Combos. Yes, they were overpriced. I think I paid nearly three dollars in the end, which, to say the least, made the eating of those treats all the more enjoyable. When I was in line, I saw a bookshelf next to the register containing Don Piper's "90 Minutes in Heaven," which by the way, I find a touch blasphemous in general, but I had to chuckle to myself, because, really, when you can go in a store, get a bag of combos, a footlong chili dog, a slushee and cigarettes AND come out with "Christian" literature, what can you do besides laugh? Nothing. The end.

But not really, because, in an effort to go against everything I know about organizing a communicative piece of writing, I'm going to backtrack to my interview.

It was with a nonprofit called Riverlink, and as the name implies, they work with, YES, the river. Specifically, river conservation. Anyway, I'm in the interview, and they start talking about the guy who isn't there right now. His title: Riverkeeper. Whoa. Suddenly bass starts pumping in my head, I'm seeing a steroid-pumped thirty year-old in too-tight trousers come pouncing out from behind a curtain carrying an enormous fake gold belt that obviously he cannot ACTUALLY put on. He grabs the mic from the announcer, who he then hammer-punches over the head, and yells in a gutteral growl, "The Riverkeeper's back, baby, and I'm coming for blood."

I can only hope the actual Riverkeeper is not as intimidating as he is in my head.

Red Owl Designs Giveaway

Dear friends who like to shop on Etsy,

Check out Red Owl Designs and the giveaway Sara is hosting on her blog! I want to win!

I am your personal trainer.

Alright. So, I know after National Donut Day at Krispy Kreme and the free root beer floats Sonic gave away last week, we're all looking to lose a little weight. I thought I'd help everyone out by detailing my workout this afternoon. Give you a little taste of working-out Amanda-style.

First, come home from work and proceed to eat four of Abigail's chocolate-chip meringue cookies after she offers you one.

Second, whine profusely while changing into your gross workout clothes that make you look extra awesome and as un-athletic as possible. (Probably because your work-out pants are really pajama pants from Target).

(Sorry, no picture. I will not embarrass myself on my own blog)

Third, walk in the rain to the work-out room at your apartment complex. Pass a weird emo kid wearing a backpack on the way there and wonder if he's secretly plotting to come after you once you're all alone in the work-out room. Decide it's worth the risk and get on the treadmill anyway.

I don't have a picture of the emo kid, so we'll throw in a picture of Ryan, instead.

Turn on Kathy Griffin's Life on the D-List on Bravo and thank God they're not playing some stupid classic American movie. I hate when they play movies. Stick to reality shows and the West Wing re-runs, Bravo!

Next, proceed to force yourself to run through the pain because you really want to see the end of the episode... where Steve Wozniak (from Apple) plays segway polo with his nerd friends.

And then, give up before the segway polo actually begins. Walk back to your apartment.

Celebrate by devouring a mini key-lime pie, homemade by your domestic goddess of a roomate, Abigail.



Then, lastly, maybe you can go to the grocery store and buy some Nutella. And proceed to eat it by the spoonful because you've been deprived of it until 24 years of age, and well, you have a lot of catching up to do.

Subconscious Takeover

Apparently I've just been completely out of it.

Last night, I was driving back to Columbia. I ran out of Puppy Chow for Apollo in the morning, and it was late, and he was whining, and I knew he was hungry. I stop at Walmart to get some kibble for the pup. I go in, grab the bag, a coke, and go through the line. On my way out of the store, without even thinking about what i was doing, as if maybe I thought the floor was pavement or something, I spat inside Walmart. I'm not sure why. It took me a while, like a minute, to even realize that I did it. Yes, I hate that place. Yes, I would burn them all to the ground if I thought it would do any good. But being by myself with a bag of dog grub and cola, there would be no reason to just spit. I guess I was just tired, but it was weird.

Welcome to my out-of-body life.

Nudity and Marinara Sauce

First, you simply must read this:

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/1111954942.html


Thanks.

This is my emailed response:

"Nudity and Marinara Sauce"

If I sit so my feet dangle out
the window five floors up

you’ll know what I’m into.
Skydiving’s off till they

get the net up down there
where the plane’s shadow lies

as a ruptured blood vessel.
“And how do you feel about

those mozzarella sticks?”
she asked, as if I wasn’t curled

up waiting to be dipped into
her deep cup. I say this

not because I am anything
like cheese, except perhaps

once you’ve eaten the bread
around my toasty frame, but

because I will become, my ripe
madonna, for you, anything.






(Dear Lord, I hope he writes back.)

Oh Ja!

So, I've been out and about in Europe for the past few weeks--most recently in Germany. It was interesting to see the number of people strolling in public, on trams, in subways, just chilling with their beers everywhere. I thought it was a funny contrast to here, the Czech republic, where legislature is trying to make it illegal to have open containers in public.

The irony of the situation is, of course, that here pretty much anyone can buy alcohol, no matter how old they are, anytime day or night. In Germany, this is not the case. Not only are you carded to make sure you are of legal age (18, by the way), if you are underage, you cannot be out past 10pm. If cops see you, they will id you and bring you home or something. I find it funny that there, as long as you are 18, you can chill anywhere with alcohol and that here in Prague you can get totally wasted as long as you remain indoors.

Maybe that's just me.

Another thing that was pretty amazing was when Ashley and I got kicked out of the "first class" train cab. We had just been told to move out of the train we were on originally before it was supposed to stop for our transfer, so we were already confused, but then further confused when the train lady came to us and pointed at the "1" sign in the window. As we sadly picked up our things, feeling bad for committing such a terrible mistake, we moved to our lower class seats. Surprisingly, these felt similar to the first class ones. Perhaps the reason was that they were the same seats, with the exception of not having an arm rest between seats. I'm talking literally the same seats, same space, same style, everything. Exactly the same. Silly Germans.


I learned that many non-Bavarians hate Bavarians and want to get rid of them and make them a different nation. Sounds like Texas or something.

This morning we tried to make this stuff called Harusky, or something like that. My dad picked it up because the box looked like it may be similar to hash browns. Granted, they do have both frozen hashbrowns and potatoes to make your own, but having neither, I settled and tried to produce a sort of hashbrown product. Let me tell you how it turned out. Not.hash.browns. It was like eating little balls of fried dough or something, with cooked onion and ham (which I added, in honour of Waffle House of course), applied ketchup and salt and everything I could possibly fathom to put on it. Needless to say, I could not finish a plate of it. I threw half a plate away and immediately took a tums ultra to calm my already-inflamed stomach.

Going back to Amanda's post from weeks ago, I also have refused to eat gelatin since I discovered its source. This is disgusting to me. Upon telling my parents this (my mother happened to make some gelatinous dessert) however, my father asked me about other things I eat, like weird chicken things or steak or anything, to which I replied, in mostly honest terms, that I really don't eat pork, steak, or dark chicken. The exception to this rule is sausage, which is rather sad, and I should probably do away with it; but some just tastes so good.

The Haiku Edition

Last night at trivia, there was a question (which, of course, we got right) about Haikus.

Thus the inspiration.


"Nascar"

Too many people
like Nascar in the state of
South Carolina.

"Brickbreaker"

Robz, the gun will
only get you so far but
not enough to win.


"Emo"

Watch out for a Crump
in a cat suit on a night
full of dark dreams.


"Terry Schiavo"

If I am too out
of it to tell you myself
pull the plug on me.


"Dogs"

If only women
were as sweet and soft without
the percocet dose.

"Mr. Owl"

Everyone knows
owls can't eat chocolate but
tootsie rolls are fake.


"Gospel Tracks"

Look at those sinners
lighting up at the station
B.P. after three.


"Boo"

If I were a wolf
I would scare kids by booing
rather than howling.


"Obama"

Maybe one day I
will have the privilege of
washing Jesus's feet.


"C.S.U."

I hope the swine flu
makes the admin. feel sorry
for the things they've done.






Whooooo...There you go. 5.7.5. the magic syllables.

American Girl.

One of the teachers in the kid's program where I work was discussing fashion with Jamilla (my office mate) & me earlier this week. We were talking about Jamilla's earthy style and bohemian flair. So, I asked the teacher, "What would you call my style?" She paused and thought for a moment and said, "American Girl... very classic.... something something something..." I stopped listening after I heard the words "American Girl," because I immediately thought, "I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE AN AMERICAN GIRL DOLL."

Which is totally not what she was talking about when she said "American Girl." I'm sure what she really meant was that I'm a classy American Girl like Jackie O.

Conveniently, I was Jackie O. for Halloween a few years ago. No one understood my costume. Someone thought I was a maid. Someone else thought I was a Stepford Wife. I fail at Jackie O.

Doesn't matter. All I can think about now when I get ready in the morning is "What would an American Girl Doll wear?" I think aloud, "Where is my purple cardigan and pleated floral print skirt?!?"

Seriously. You know you want to be an American Girl Doll, too. Don't lie.

Ode to Toni.

Since Toni is our number one commenter right now, so she gets an entire post dedicated to her delicious self. Enjoy.

Ode to Toni

Toni is BFF. We met in Community College. We had a few English and History classes together... and "Computer Art" with the hottest turtleneck-wearing-teacher ever. It's actually pretty amazing that we are friends considering I generally hate anyone who tries to score higher than me on a test. Except Toni didn't really have to try. She just naturally excelled. Kinda like a horse.


See, I learned a lot sitting next to Toni in "Computer Art"

So, anyway... Toni has a little brother that is similar to my little brother. She is also popular. So popular that boys find ways to be in her dreams. She recently had a dream about Ryan's roomate Joel. She said he tried to date her but she said no.



Too bad, Toni. Because Joel is a winner.

One last thing about Toni. She has good taste. Good musical taste, good style & design taste. She's introduced me to some of my favorite music, or as Robbie might say "simply adequate" music. Death Cab, Snow Patrol, Damien Rice, etc. You know what I'm saying. She shares my love for Target and for buying clothes. I think my recent love of the cardigan has erupted from her own reverence of the beloved article of clothing.

I'd like to end this post now with a picture from one of the first times Toni and I really hung out, back in 2006. I convinced her to go with me to Lowes to buy a gigantic screw needed to hang a projector at church. It was a boring trip.




We're like twins.

Simple

Here is something I like: shoes. Maybe that's weird coming from a guy, but you should know that I buy almost all of my shoes exclusively (love that word in this context) from Ross, where I can get such great deals as these, a pair of Simple Toemorrows, retailed at 90 bucks, for a measely 15. How can an environmentally-minded college grad with no full-time job pass this up? Impossible, really. So purchase them I had to. In case you are unaware, all of Simple shoes are organic, biodegradable, and mostly vegan (I mean most of the shoes are vegan, not partially made "veganally." I take great comfort in knowing I am helping the earth, and every time I look at my shoes, I know I've done something good that day.

Also, apparently they look funny. My roomate calls them my Emo Mocassins, so I think it only fitting that this be fused into a word, so here goes: Emocassins. You can't beat having both full words into one giant word.

Click here to visit the Simple website, and watch your world grow brighter: http://www.simpleshoes.com/index.aspx

Wedding Music for Classy Girls Who Like Good Music

Are you a classy girl who wants a string quartet to play at your wedding (even though you secretly listen to Peter Gabriel and The Flaming Lips when no one is around)?

LOOK NO FURTHER, CLASSY GIRL!

Let me introduce the Modern Wedding Collection by the Vitamin String Quartet!



Go here to sample the tracks. Please note that one of my new favorite Death Cab songs is featured.

I swear I wasn't looking for this.... I just, well, happened upon it...

Right.

Things I Like & Things I Do Not Like

First, things I like:

1. ICE CREAM. Brewster's Graham Central Station (pictured above) is my current favorite... most likely because it seems more special because I can't buy it in the grocery store. I also love variatons of Chocolate Ice Cream and the occasional fruity sherbert.

2. Thursday nights. The Office & 30 Rock make me happy. And it means only one more morning to wake up before I have a couple of days off.

3. Water. A month or so ago, I hated water. I've seen people walk around drinking straight out of a gallon of water and often wondered what the big deal was all about... It tastes like paper. Stale paper. Although I guess paper is always stale. But I can handle it cold, now. I now carry around an awesome pink water bottle with a sippy straw. I think the sippy straw helps me like water, maybe even makes it taste better.

4. Kids at small group. Last night one little boy was dressed as a butterfly and was attacking another little boy in an astronaut helmet with a wooden drumstick. It was awesome.

5. Shopping. But only if I can find a good deal. I bought a pair of nice dressy khaki pants at NY & Company for $4.95 this past weekend! I had a good coupon and they were on sale already. That's the kind of shopping I like to do.


Now, some things I do not like (and that are ruining my life this week):




1. Effing acne eating my face. Where did it come from? I've never had an acne problem. I think this might be the worse it's ever been and I know it could be worse. But it won't go away! Since my last haircut three weeks ago, it's been a lot worse... maybe my hair hitting my face? I touch my face a lot too. But I have like a hiking trail of acne that starts on my neck and climbs all the way up to my head. I bought some Clean & Clear acne medication and it makes my skin slimey and doesn't help. Sadness. You can see the three worse death-spots on my chin in the horribly unflattering picture of me above.

2. The distance from my desk to the bathroom. I have to pee ever 10 minutes. Those who know me know this is no exaggeration. Number 3 up at the top of this post is not helping this. either.

3. Acid reflux. You are ruining my life. Truly, you are. Every day. No tomatoes, no fried chicken, no sauces of any kind on anything, NO MAYONNAISE?!? WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO, ACID REFLUX?!? I hate you.

4. And, last but not least, money. Money is stupid. Why do we need it? Dumb. Can I just barter my love for food? Or my skillz? I'll trade you a crafty creation for a ham sandwich. Deal? I can make you a craft in exchange for quality meats?


I am done because I have to pee & refill my water bottle. Bye.

Velikonoční Pondělí

Let's say you're a girl living in, I don't know, Hradec Kralove, Czech Republic. You are maybe 11. On the Monday after Easter (which, of course, is a holiday), you awaken to incessant knocking on your front door. Mother and father are somewhere in the back of the house (father smoking sausage, mother making soup), and you hasten to the doorway to find many of your male friends poised with long poles of intertwined vines with rainbow-coloured tissue paper hanging from the tip like an ancient whip (they are actually called pomlavsky). They cry some rhyme that essentially means "give us one of the eggs you have painted for easter or we are going to beat you." The girl at this point has one of two options. If she was prepared for this occasion (which, judging by the fact that this day has been celebrated in such a fashion since the fifteenth century, she would be), she will grab her handy pail of water and douse the boys while they stand dumbfounded. She eventually gives them the egg, just because she feels sorry for them and it is Easter and yada yada Christ rose, and they go away.

And that's what happens on Easter Monday in the Czech Republic. What a sad day not to be in Prague!

Kumar

Hello.

I'm Robbie, Senior News Editor here at Ping Pong Pandas.

President Obama has hired Kumar (from "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" or "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay") as the associate director of the White House Office of Public Liaison.

That is all.

Death Cab & Easter Dubya

Rob, Ryan, Toni, & myself all trekked to Charlotte for the Death Cab for Cutie concert this past Thursday night. If you ever get the chance to see them live, do it. They are amazing. I fell in love with a few new songs and was overwhelmed with joy as they played my absolutely favorite song (not just of theirs, but of any band, any singer, anyone), "Marching Bands of Manhattan"

This is from a few years ago, and not my video... also, not great quality. But, you will be able to hear the pure, amazing voice of Ben Gibbard. Robbie is watching me write this and notes that Ben Gibbard's voice is "simply adequate." Robbie is jealous because he knows I think Ben is HOT. And skinny in person??? It's weird. He looked totally different in person. Anyway, watch the video of my favorite song.




I also just proclaimed to Robbie that I would like to walk down the aisle to this song in our eventual (who-knows-when) wedding one day. Maybe Ben can make a special trip? I'd spend my whole wedding budget on it. Except only like the first verse is appropriate for that occassion. And by first verse, I mean first 4 or 5 lines. Ha. But anyway, I don't care. I will have the cutest and most emo wedding one day. It will be most emo because I will be there and Ryan will most likely be there. And I'm just not sure the world was ever prepared for so much emo.


On another note, this made my day:



Happy Easter.

Atopic Dermatitis otherwise known as "I want to claw my skin off."

My skin is the devil.




Also, Gummy Bears are the devil. Ms. Pat, our beloved secretary, gave me a bag of gummy bunnies because she doesn't eat gelatin (one of their ingredients). I thought this was odd, but knowing she doesn't eat certain foods for certain important reasons, I asked "why?"

She told me gelatin comes from pig or cow skin. And now I am sick every time I even look at a gummy bear. or bunny. or worm. whichever kind you prefer.

From wikipedia, master of fine research:
"Gelatin is a protein produced by partial hydrolysis of collagen extracted from the bones, connective tissues, organs, and some intestines of animals such as domesticated cattle, and horses."


Now I'm going to go scratch my itchy skin and throw up the gummy bunnies I just ate (after searching for them for days, because I made Jamilla hide them from me last week.)

Squatting

Air mattresses are the devil. Maybe not all of them, but my $29.99 Stone Grey Felt-Covered air-mattress is the pits. I've been sleeping on it since January, so I suppose it has gotten me through the darkest of winters, but now I have to literally pump it up every night, and in the middle of the mattress is a big lump. I'm talking the lump is the size of a few small children.

Devastating, really. Last night I had to invert the way I slept so that I could actually fall asleep, against pillows that, while "extra-firm," are somewhat flattened after only 3 months. I feel like a sqautter in my own apartment.

Crump Family Introductions: Little Brother

I would like for you to meet my little brother, Weeyum. Or William, as I like to call him.
He is currently employed at The Pizza Hut. My mother puts the word "The" in front of everything... let's go to "The Wal-Mart," etc. So, it's THE Pizza Hut. THE special one that is blessed with my brother's skillz.
William is so much cooler than me. I remember being jealous of him growing up. He had all of the hip, new trends from Hollister and Abercrombie (he worked at both for brief periods of time) and had party friends. Evidence: the above picture stolen from his myspace entitled "BEER FACE" and the pictures of him with girls in bras and bikinis just chillin' at parties. I'll spare you those pictures.

One time my brother fake ran away from home when he was seven or eight. He took a giant garbage bag and put all of our telephones and a loaf of bread in it and went walking down the street. He didn't get very far before my mom pulled up in her white nissan and made him get in.

Some girls wait for their knight in shining armor to arrive on a white horse. My brother waits for my mom in her white nissan. Same thing.


Also, he likes to date girls with babies.

Shifting Gears

As awful as I feel like the book will be, I've kind of promised to read Pride and Prejudice if for no other reason than to have a good reason to dislike Jane Austen. That's not entirely true. I'm sure it won't be totally terrible. Although reading it comes at an interesting time because I finished McCarthy's Blood Meridian last night; it's probably the most violent and gory book I've read. Ever. Needless to say, this will be a change of gears.

Also, I would really appreciate it if the graduate schools I applied to will stop pissing about and get on with sending me my letters of whatever they have to say to me. Thanks.

And for the record, if you make Kraft Mac and Cheese, it's best not to put real cheese in. It takes away that good powdercheezy taste. Also, if the cheese succesfully melts, it looks like there are spiderwebs in your macaroni. Creepy.

college < tractor

my parents weren't able to contribute to my college tuition.

however, they bought themselves a tractor. mom says it's "handy & useful."

space crump don't need no tractor.

HOW DOES IT KNOW?!?

OMG THIS DAY IS NEVER ENDING.

But, alas! google has provided me with a link at the top of my gmail inbox.

an advertisment/sponsored link..... MAYBE IT WILL SOLVE MY PROBLEMS.

Don't Let It Get To You - www.happier.com - Anger is Bad! Happy is Good. Learn How To Let Go Of Negativity

THANK YOU GMAIL

eff you, gmail.... HOW DO YOU KNOW I AM ANGRY?!?

gmail offers offers 7313.163362 megabytes (and counting) of free storage AND reads your mind. sign up today.

The Inception of the Pandas

Today is Monday.

There is so much work to do.

Monday's are probably the worst day of the year.

Which means there are how many worst days?

*gets out calculator*

Well, you don't really need a calculator.

Around 52 Mondays.

52 worst days of the year.

That's like a seventh of a given year. Wow. That's a lot of negativity.

Also: The Brad Neely George Washington rap is stuck in my head.