February 27, 2011


I have put together the most darling outfits ever. And when I have the money, I'm going to buy them!

I have a great number of random clothing sites. I don't really know how I found any of them, I just did. I have two favorites though. One, Jackthreads, is a low-scale designer sale site for men. Good, quality, amazing clothes sometimes up to 60% off. It's a host site catering to amazing sales. I love it! The other is my personal favorite. Bluefly ('the ultimate hookup for the fashion obsessed'). Same type of host site, only it's all designer brands. Everything there is on sale. All of it. And I love every single article of clothing. Not to say that, because of the sale, it's necessarily affordable. Some of it is still insanely expensive (like my favorite boots in the world Balmain Black Satin and Stretch Lace-Up Boots). The only problem with Bluefly is that since it is a sale sight, some things get sold out. Some very very nice things get sold out.

All of this is fairly irrelevant except for Bluefly. I was looking through the site, lusting after clothes like I normally do, and I came upon a few articles of clothing that I found particularly lust-worthy.

Imagine me in these!
Actually imagine anyone in these.

Outfit #1

Shumaq true blue 'Sophia' ruffle dress
Miu Miu black patent ruffle bow peep toe pumps
Judith Ripka black onyx and diamond meduim j hoop earrings
Prada grey faded leather crystal kisslock small clutch

Outfit #2
Diesel ivory cotton-silk 'Ohiohi' ruffle trim skirt
Rebecca Beeson flamingo ruched jersey scoop neck top
Miu Miu dark brown leather cut-out lace-up pumps

Outfit #3
Work Custum Jeans black destroy ripped 'Moto Zip' skinny jeans
BCBGMAXAZRIA black slash detail jersey tunic
Report Signature black suede 'Thompson' cutout platform booties

Outfit #4
7 For All Mankind blue wash 'Roxanne' distressed skinny jeans
Splendid white burnout jersey ruched shoulder top
Boutique 9 dark blue 'Radd' wedge boots

And there you have it. Just a taste of my far too expensive desires in clothing.
If you want to make me the happiest girl in the world, buy me one of these outfits. Preferably 2 or 4 :)

February 26, 2011

Cheating Leavers and Leaving With Cheaters

Unfortunately there is a certain breed of people (yes, I'm saying breed) who, upon conception, had some little important gene left out of them. This gene would be the gene of decency - especially in a relationship. To cut short our nice little description, these people are Cheaters. You know, those detestable people who aren't humans and, for some god forsaken reason, decide to pursue a new relationship while they're already in one instead of just breaking the first off and being an honorable, normal human being.

Now, after a while, for some Cheaters, they decide that they would like to leave their spouse and live happily ever after with their new soulmate. So they pack up, leave their old true love and their kids, and start a new life with someone else.

What I cannot understand for the life of me is that this new 'soulmate' is completely trusting in that Mr/Ms Cheater loves them with their whole heart and they'll never do anything to hurt them and never in a million years would they cheat. That's completely out of the question.

Doesn't this Other Woman/Man realize that they're no longer the 'Other'? And Cheater so easily left their former non-Other. What's to keep them from doing the same thing again with just another face?

I just find it all completely ridiculous. I could never, first of all, cheat. And most certainly, I could never live with a cheater. And I could never ever ever be the Other Woman because if he ever left his spouse, I would never trust that he wouldn't leave/cheat on me.

Why are there still Cheaters? You'd think that we'd have Selective Breeding-ed  their asses out of existence! If, that is, it's a gene. I'd rather it be a gene. Something out of their control rather than a deliberate choice to be a horrible person.

February 25, 2011

No School and Toupees

Like I said, no school! I don't know what the other part of my title has to do with anything. Just thought I'd put it up there.

I am eating cottage cheese.
Nom Nom Nom.

I think I love Denise from The Cosby Show. Not only is she absolutely GORGEOUS, but she goes off on tangents about things she has an issue with using the same logic I do! In other words, usually very illogical, yet somehow plausible, logic. If she actually existed, I would SO be friends with her.

Tomorrow, or maybe later today, I'm going to write a frustrated post.

February 24, 2011

Let There Be Snow!

I have conceded, succumbed, and otherwise allowed myself to be utterly boring and blog about the obvious.


Yes. Snow. I love snow! It's so picturesque and cold and beautiful and these are all very normal words but I can't really think of any others because I'm thinking about the snow, not suitable adjectives.

Now while I adore all the lovely frozen rain falling from the sky, I am grievously upset because Boyfriend's car Oliver (yes he named his car and yes I adore that and yes naming cars is cool so name your car if you already haven't) handles terribly in the snow which means that I probably won't be seeing him for a while. Until the snow melts anyways.

The other reason I am so monstrously mourning is that, for some unknown reason, school has not been cancelled! How absolutely obscene! It's at the top of a hill, there's a good four inches of snow (us Washingtonians are pathetic so four inches of snow is a lot), and everything is cold and pretty. We should not be at school today. But oh and alas, we are.

On the bright side, the college closes at 3 so my terrible, awful, disgusting biology lab is either cut short or not happening! YAY!

I have nothing else to say other than.......

LET THERE BE SNOWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Providing, of course, I can have Boyfriend curled up with me in front of a fire with a movie, a book, and hot chocolate.

Oh yeah, we're over halfway done with breaking my relationship record.
Two months as of yesterday :)

February 23, 2011

The Rehab Club for Christian HomeSchoolers (The Conversation That Spurned an Epiphany)

Today I was strolling around campus with my brother and one of our friends. My brother and I were home-schooled until late highschool, at which point, we were enrolled in the local highschool. We are, to put it quaintly, the black sheep of the family and not just because of our high school experience. We're the wild child children. But I digress. Our friend was also homeschooled but, now understand this as it is extremely important, is not a homeschooler.
We all have relatively the same view of homeschoolers. Conservative ones anyways. And, needless to say, it's quite harsh. And then it happened.


 Me: You know how there's a 'The Christian Club'?
The Guys: Yeah...
Me: There should be a... like... The antithesis of 'The Christian Club'. Only not so...
My Brother: HAHAHAHA what?!
Me: No really! It'd be like a change christian homeschoolers! Corrupt them and normalize them!
My Brother: Haha it'd be like a rehab for homeschoolers.
Me: EXACTLY! That's it! That's it! It could be 'The Rehab Club for Christian HomeSchoolers'!

Now while I am entirely doubtful that the ASC would EVER EVER EVER in a million years actually give the ok to make such a club............................................... I'm super tempted to try anyways.

February 22, 2011


Stillness before
A sudden jump will startle
Quiet hesitation
Did it really just occur?

I don't think it did
Forget about it as
It was just a spasm.

But wait
What was that?
You feel that?
You hear that?

Squeaks like
A dying mouse
A hungry cat.

Like an electric fence
A careless hand.

But that after feeling
Breathlessness tickles
Like a little gray fog upon
My lungs - shrouding sense
In stunned epiphany.

Revelation speaks
To what I have revealed
What was that?
Oh... I hiccuped.

No Title In Mind

On mornings that you wake up feeling like you got hit by a bus and run over by a herd of reindeer at some point during the night, it is my personal opinion that you should, in fact, get hit by a bus and run over by a herd of reindeer at some point during the day so that feeling like you got hit by a bus and run over by a herd of reindeer is thoroughly and satisfactorily justified so you can achieve random people's validation for having lived through being hit by a bus and run over by a herd of reindeer.

I had a dream that I was making out with Billy Crystal. Or rather, Harry Burns (from When Harry Met Sally). I don't even like Billy Crystal. While I was making out with Billy Crystal I was thinking about how much I am not attracted to Billy Crystal. Then he started talking about Boyfriend like he was dead or something. I began to imagine how funny it would be if Boyfriend showed up and started beating Billy Crystal up. He never did though. Then the dream morphed and Billy Crystal disappeared and suddenly I was at school in my underwear. I've never had a dream where I was in my underwear. Not in public anyways. But the funny part is that I wasn't embarrassed. I was completely comfortable without clothes on. My mother on the other hand, was most upset and took me to Wal-Mart and made me wear candy cane striped sweatpants but bought me no top to go with it. How very strange. Either I have a secret desire to come to school in my underwear or I have a deep, undying fear of candy cane striped sweatpants. I don't know which it is.

So there's this very very very annoying person here that usually tries to talk to me. I'm rather miserable today but I actually hope he comes up to me and says something along the lines of 'you look like shit.' because if he does that then I can say something along the lines of '-says something extremely insulting, ego-destructive, character degrading, and so mind-numbingly cruel so that Annoying Person never talks to me again-' It sounds like fun.

So when I make a decent amount of money, I'm completely reinventing my look. I'm buying things from Anthropologie, Banana Republic, Guess, Buckle, Miss Me, and Victoria's Secret. I will dress with straight class. I will be mainly prep with just a hint of retro indie. I can't wait.

I don't understand what it is with all these grown adults being so obsessed with Pokemon. It's a little obscene. A few pull off their addiction quite adorably but for the most part, it irritates me. Get a real hobby people... And a shower and a job while you're at it.

Ok maybe the above statement was a little cruel.

I'm not retracting it.

February 21, 2011

Allow Me To Complain

Worst. Weekend. Ever.

I have been sick since Friday and I'm really starting to hate it now.

It started out as one of those simple little things. Scratchy throat, headache, super sensitive skin, and anti-social behavior. But of course, I, like normal, ignored all the signs and said what the hell.

I spent the night at my sister's on Friday. Started up a mild fever but said, what the hell, and just went to sleep. Saturday wasn't half bad. I felt magically fine! Mild cough, but my headache was mainly gone. Took some advil and called it good.

Saturday night was spent with Boyfriend, during which time I lost my balance and almost fell over about five times, had a hard time breathing, and was running a temperature. But stubborn little me said, what the hell, and ignored all the signs, protesting that I was entirely fine and didn't need to go home. Finally, because of my curfew, Boyfriend took me home.

I went to sleep but woke up about a hundred times to hack up a lung and wonder why my head felt like it was imploding.

Sunday morning rolls around and at 6AM I was wide awake and absolutely miserable. But, because I was too weak/dizzy to move, I stayed in bed until 12:45 at which point I got up and went to my sister's house to shower and have a family movie/pizza thing. Boyfriend  came to that. I was thoroughly exhausted and fell asleep numerous times throughout the film. We left at around six and drove over to a mutual friend's store to see another mutual friend who was visiting.

By this time I'd developed an uncontrollable shaking, my skin felt like it was on fire every time someone touched me, I was freezing cold, my ears were ringing, and I was entirely unhappy. But I really didn't want to go home so I bit the bullet and didn't say a word other than 'I'm fine babe.' We spent about an hour and a half at the shop. I refused to go home. I refused to go anywhere. I hate ruining things for people and I was determined not to ruin tonight for Boyfriend. He was entirely adamant though, mainly because I was running a fever and he was really concerned. Finally he stole my phone, texted my sister, and told her what was going on. I'm not entirely sure what she said back... But she probably encouraged him not to give into my pouting. So unfair. And so, he pulled me off the counter, walked me to the car (scolding me the entire time), and drove me home. He wasn't taking no for an answer. So unfair.

I fell asleep in the car and when we got back to my house he walked me in and gave me express instructions to take my temperature, tell him what it was (it was 101.4), take something that would make me sleep, and be asleep by 9PM. Good Boyfriend... I was annoyed though. Mostly because I didn't get my way. But I love him. A lot. Good Boyfriend.

Today I woke up at 6:30 coughing and unable to breathe. My fever is gone for the most part, but my sinuses are all stuffy, my throat is burning, my head hurts like nothing else, and my skin is still all meh.

I just had to complain. I don't really have anything else to write about.

February 18, 2011


If everyone just left right after their last class, this college would have way less weird people taking up space. Granted, I wouldn't be here right now, but that's entirely besides the point.

February 17, 2011

Poor, Unfortunate Fools... And M&Ms

Today I am writing about guys. I suppose a little about girls too. But mostly guys. Because guys are... Well, you'll see.

Some people are just sad. And not in the depressed-sad sense (although sometimes they're so sad that it causes me  to lose all hope in humanity and become depressed for about five minutes), no this sad is more like the wow-you're-so-pathetic sad. It is at this point that either I start laughing uncontrollably and try not to stare in their general direction (because yes, although I am laughing, I'm not entirely heartless and cruel so I'd rather not have them know that I'm laughing at them. I'm trying to be charitable), or I cover my face, curl up in a fetal position, and wonder why I'm here.
But I digress.
Some guys just don't understand how horribly uncool they actually are. And it makes me a little bit sad for them. They're trying their heart out to impress this girl and so they go and do the coolest thing they know how to do. What they don't realize is that no one is interested, amused, or otherwise entertained by said action. No one watches. No one cares. And the worst part? That poor, dumb guy is totally oblivious to his insignificance. He thinks he's the most badass thing to ever walk the earth.

A quick side note: Don't ever ever ever wear felt/suede/anything-remotely-velvety with wool. It looks weird.

Another thing that happens is that this guy does whatever the hell he's doing (the completely lame action previously mentioned) but people are way too polite and nice, so they say 'oh my gosh that's so cool!' when in actuality they think it's lame as could possibly be. All that will ever accomplish is making someone entirely blithe and ignorant and then the suffering passes to someone else who, also, is a  little too nice and polite.

I wonder how much more talented (or at least expedient) our world would be if no one catered to another's weak excuse for galvanism.

Girls, it's your turn to be reviled.

There seems to be four types of girls in the world.
  1. The cool ones that I like
  2. The cool ones that I like but really need some help with their fashion choices
  3. The annoying ones that have no sense of propriety, or sometimes even a brain
  4. And the slutty ones who disgust me because not only are they chasing every guy they see, but they dress abhorrently and it hurts me.
Obviously, we don't have to write about number 1. Number 2 is easily solvable and it doesn't need to be written about either. Number 3 could be written about but they deserve an entire blog post, not just a portion. But number 4 is perfection. It must be written about, but to devote an entire post to it would endanger my brain cells, so, half a blog post it gets.

I do not understand the need for these girls. I don't understand why they must exist. I don't understand why they plague me.
Low shirts, gross jeans, ugly shoes, terrible makeup, dirty hair, and weird accessories. They are the very definition of white trash. And I just don't get it.
What's worse is that they chase every single guy they see. It doesn't matter who they are, they see them and they chase them. Poor guys.

This is very hard for me to write about. I'm tempted to say very very horrible things. But I must control myself. But then I can't think of anything else to write about because it's such a terrible thing that it deserves terrible words but no... I mustn't...

Anyways, moving on. I've quite run out of things to write about.

Something funny happened yesterday. I'm in the pub and walking back to my chair with a bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms and this big black guy that I sort of know looks at me and says

"Yo, come 'ere gurl. I need me some choc'lit!" So I looked at him with a half smile and started walking towards him.

"Oh really now? I don't know... I'm not sure if I want to share my M&Ms with you."

"Nawww come on gurl, you should shaaaaare yo M&Ms wi' me. 'Cause y'know wut they say 'bout choc'lit."

"I do?"

"Mmmmmmmmmhm! Gurl choc'lit don't melt in yo hand. It melts in yo mouth... *checks himself out* And I am awwwwllllllll choc'lity goodness."

I was laughing so hard that I gave him M&Ms just to shut him up.

February 16, 2011

The Peanut Butter Hypocrite

I remember when I was a little girl, too young to possibly conceive all the random impossibilities of my future, and young enough to imagine that someday they'd happen.
I was probably about six years old, still growing up like a wild child on my family's five acre property, and continually following my older brothers around - blissfully ignoring them when they stopped, ten feet ahead of me in the woods, to yell 'Stop following me!'.

The brother closest to me was around ten by this time, and, in his mind, superior in every way. And as such, I should listen to every word he ever said and either leave him alone, or obey his every command. We were both very strong willed children and fought often.
However, although I despised him with every fiber in my body, he was good for two things:

One, entertaining myself by purposefully getting him in trouble with my parents. This was often accomplished by howling in saddened anger and blaming him for something he may not have done. Yes, I know I was a horrible child.

And two, he was, and is to this day, very good at explaining foreign concepts(regardless of whether or not he actually understood them) and new words to my then six year old mind.

One day he began complaining about how absolutely hypocritical our eldest brother was acting. Oh what a horrible ordeal to be told that 'no you can't use the computer' and then watch in complete horror as your older sibling steps around you, sits down decidedly in front of the computer, and blithely opens Age of Empires as he tries to hold back a proud smirk. Oh the horror. The unjustness!

"What is a hypocrite?" My question was initially answered by a stare of complete and total condescension. How could I manage not to know the answer to this? What a stupid six year old I must be.
"Well it's... it's... It's like this..." A pensive gaze was sent up towards the ceiling, one arm crossed over his chest, the other resting upon that, a hand intelligently stroking his chin. "A hypocrite is someone who tells you to do something, and the goes and does what they told you not to..." This explanation was not at all satisfactory. Not even a little bit. "I don't understand." The growl of frustration my brother directed at me was akin to the growl of disgust a dog gives to it's clumsy pup - only far more irritated. "Of course you don't. It's like this *long pause of thought*" There was a jar of Adams Peanut Butter sitting on the counter. Adams Peanut Butter was the only kind of peanut butter we ever bought. Not only was it relatively healthy, but it was affordable, there was a ton of it, and well, it was Adams! This fortunate jar of peanut butter was spotted by my brother and in his infinite wisdom he stated triumphantly "If you told me not to eat any peanut butter, and then you went and ate some peanut butter you would be a hypocrite!"

The sheer amazingness of what I had just been told overwhelmed me. I had been enlightened to an entire new world. Hypocrisy. Now while the impressiveness of telling someone not to do something and then going and doing that very thing only lasted a short while, the impression of a peanut butter hypocrite was forever imprinted on my young, six year old mind.

February 15, 2011

If You Don't Put It In, You Don't Have To Worry About Taking It Out

The above statement is in reference to caloric intake.

Well, I don't think I really have anything to write about at this very moment.
I briefly considered writing about the sheer impossibilities of understanding things about something to do with inner-tubes and then something to do with flying and then more stuff about guns and shooting tigers and putting down natives. But no, I zoned out too much during that conversation so I can't write about it to the full extent and dramatization(I'm feeling especially wordy today) and detailed randomness that I would like to.
Subject Possibility #1 = Gone.
I could write about something but I'm not even able to summarize it because of something that might happen if I reference something and so, yeah, it's gone too.
Subject Possibility #2 = Government (ok not really) is out to get us man.
I could also write about Boyfriend... Again... I really don't like being repetitive though.
Subject Possibility #3 = Depleted.
And so, as you can see, I don't have much to write about.

Allow me to briefly complain.
Negativity is the bane of all artistic existence.
Nothing, nothing at all, causes me to allow rise a disgust and hatred so finely and passionately tuned that it would willfully shatter every existence as does a criticism unfounded and detrimental in taste.
Critique I accept. Happily I accept it. But to tear down, without reason, the artistic expression of a struggling bohemian is one of the worst crimes possibly committed.
If you desire my unadulterated loathing, then be a narrow-minded, conviction-less fool and my hatred will be yours.

February 14, 2011

Mash Up

I have a variety of random things to write about today. Not like that's too entirely different from any other day but this morning I actually realize how strange I am.

It is Monday, February 14th, 2011. Valentines Day. I really don't like Valentines Day, and when I say that I don't mean the unexplained hatred of the cynic for I am quite a hopeless romantic. Neither do I mean the self-pitying hatred of the single girl whose lonely romanticism causes her to loath the national day of Love. No, my dislike grows out of having broken up with someone on Valentines Day. When you ruin the national day of Love for someone you love, you end up with a ruined day yourself. And so, I celebrate nothing on February 14th. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't celebrate Valentines Day at all... It just means I don't do it on February 14th.

Enough of Valentines.

I have decided that I do not like websites with black backgrounds. They're overly annoying. Very annoying. Insanely annoying. Because you're sitting there reading, and all the white text is STARING you in the face saying READ ME READ ME READ ME and you're staring back saying STOP YELLING AT MEEEEEE and the black background starts closing in on you and you start feeling suffocated. You're drowning in the blackness. You can't get away from it. You can't breathe. Oh no! Claustrophobic! Oh no! You're gonna die! Help me help me! And the white text starts laughing maniacally in your face and you throw yourself out of the chair, writhing on the floor in agony just trying to get it out of your mind!
Alright so maybe this is very melodramatic but it gets the point across, no?

I still don't know exactly what I should blog about. Maybe fashion. I could blog about fashion. Fashion is good. It would be like my Fashion Tip of the Day but on a blog instead of facebook and in greater detail, with pictures, and way more words. I could do that. But I still haven't decided.

I have to be at college today. Lame.

I have to clean the yard today to otherwise I might die.

I have things to do today. I WILL BE PRODUCTIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

February 13, 2011

Suggestion Box Day

Last night I spent about 6 hours with Boyfriend. We were having a pre-Valentine's Day Valentine's Day thing because he has to work on Monday and I have a lab to finish on Monday. So, obviously, we made things work and pretended that February 12th, was February 14th.
We were both in a weird mood and ended up putting together a mishmash of random foods (stuffing, oatmeal, mashed potatoes, sammich, soup, toblerones, and three bottles of Martinelli's Sparkling Cider). That in itself was hilariously awesome, but we also watched Julie & Julia. I promise this has a direction. Anyways, apparently, I am a lot like Julie (played by Amy Adams). I only sort of see the personality resemblance, but Boyfriend stated that I would think of something like that... Blogging about going through an entire cookbook in 365 days. I immediately stated that no, no I wouldn't. To which he replied, but you already have a blog. My response was somewhere along the lines of well yeah but I don't blog about anything. Boyfriend glared - you blog about EVERYTHING what are you talking about? I started to laugh - well yeah but no one understands any of it!
I won that one because it's entirely true. Do any of you understand any of this?

See, I think that I should find SOMETHING to blog about. Suggestions? The main point of this is that I want to be famous... In a small sense of the word. But I want fans! Lots of fans! With lots of comments to moderate! And lots of people who love me! Yes, I have a Must-Be-Popular Complex.

But anyways, back to the point of this. What should I blog, consistently, about? I need a challenge. Because although I'm random, I'm not nearly as awesome as Allie Brosh so I can't just be random and cool like that.

By the way, I know you're reading this so freaking comment. Or at least press a button? Please? It makes me feel less pointless.

February 10, 2011

The Scar That Never Shows

*Warning* Understand that some mornings I am extraordinarily skeptic and disgusted with our culture. This is one of these mornings.

It seems as though the strains of being are all tangled in a mesh of harsh February lies. Can anything be so horridly confused?
We paint a picture of what life, and love, should be. But it's nothing of romance novels -- pain fused with passion and betrayal is never accurately represented. Envisioning a sweet, silent suffering only serves to kill you more. They lie; our books of fairytale delight scornfully exploit every weakness we are prey to.
And yet we continue. Our ideal of a perfect imperfection twists our minds and our hearts into a tangled, clinging, and distorted knot of perceived control. I know what I want, I know which character of fiction I will model myself after, so who's to say I cannot have the life she has? A life that is not on the page of a book deigns that you can never have the life your heroine, or rather her author, created. But still we simper and pine for an illusion, justifying our schizophrenic craze with the knowledge that nothing is perfect and the imperfection is really what we seek. Dysfunction.

Children are born and raised with the constant telling of stories. Cinderella's prince rescued her from a life of servitude. Snow White's true love saved her from the clutches of jealousy. Sleeping Beauty's man saved her from a dragon. Belle changed Beast into a man with whom she could live happily ever after.

Belle revolutionized romance with the Let Me Fix You With My Love mentality. I see your imperfections. I see the scars that disfigure your character. I see the marred judgment and mentality. I see the anger and the disgust. I see everything you hate about yourself. I see everything you cannot see. But it's alright. I love you for them, and that being the case, you will change those things because I accept them. I can fix you with my love because my love will fix anything. And the only thing left unseen is the fact that love and acceptance by itself cannot change anything. Breaking hearts is easy when there's no shield to protect them from the love that they're beating for.

What is Happily Ever After? Is it love? Or is it settling down and realizing that every chronicle of romance is a fabricated truth?

We are a scarred people, wounded by our fancies and handicapped by our pride. But it remains unseen, shrouded by the illusion that there's always something better, something that should be in a book, or a film instead of in reality. We are a scarred people.

February 07, 2011


Because Random-Key-Smashing is insanely therapeutic.

Today is dumb. I'm not entirely sure why, but nevertheless, it's dumb.

Have you ever thought about words like nevertheless? First off, how did three words suddenly become one? And secondly, what on EARTH do those three words mean? Never the less. Think about it. Makes no sense. And whatsoever? Or inasmuch?Who decided that they were way too lazy to take the time to put spaces between the three words? It's just weird. Not that I have a problem with it, I just have... a problem with it! And people wonder why America went to hell. We can't even muster up enough conviction and motivation to keep our filched language pure!

*Side Note* My sister just almost killed me by making me laugh and choke on coffee. Yay for the Kevin Voice!
**Side Note's Side Note** I wish there was a setting where I could make a Side Note sideways and more Side Note-ish so you'd have to crane your head waaaaayyyyy over to read it.

I am now done ranting about America and weird put together words.

At the risk of getting in trouble for this -
Boyfriend and I recently added 'I love you' to our list of insanely cheesy, yet disgustingly cute, things to say to each other. And while I'm extremely all AWWWWW about that, I never really realized how absolutely terrifying it is to say that and actually mean it. TERRIFYING. Like right up there with drowning in murky water with a bloodthirsty orc behind you who has a giant spider at his command. It's SCARY.
And yet it's alright. I'm not scared. I just said I was and I am but I'm not. That probably doesn't make any sense.

So we were talking about it last night as he's driving me home and saying all sorts of confusing things but we totally understood the confusingness being spoken! That's what makes us work. We're two messed up, confusing, contradicting people who don't know how to really do anything right but we work because we completely understand how the other person operates. That and we share a deep and undying love of all things nerdy. Like Star Wars.
Anyways, we finally came to the conclusion that we're the people that make things so easy that it gets extremely difficult because of it's simplicity. It's so totally the best curse in the world. In a good way.

Moving on, I love Maroon 5 because Adam Levine is delicious.

Today is dumb, but that's ok. I miss Boyfriend, but that's ok. He's working all day, but that's ok. I look awful, but that's ok. Why? Because I can say I love you to someone and mean it. And because I know he'll say it back and be just as scared as I am.


February 06, 2011

Does This Smell Like Chloroform?

I wonder what chloroform smells like. Can you even remember? Or is it like being knocked out where you don't really remember anything for the few seconds before?
Boyfriend tells me that he's going to chloroform me. Mainly this is because I find it extremely amusing to play the Penis Game (to be fair I give him ample warning by quoting the lines from one of my favorite movies) and he finds it extremely horrible and otherwise awful. The conversation goes a little like this...

Me - ... That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard...
Boyfriend - NO!
Me - ... No, it's cool. I promise.
Boyfriend - NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!!!! *flies at me and covers my mouth*
Me - I'll go first.............................
Boyfriend - Don't you dare Leyah NO!
Me - Penis...
Boyfriend - *Tackles me* Do you WANT to know what chloroform smells like? I WILL chloroform you damn you!
Me - PENIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *Collapses in helpless laughter as Boyfriend starts smothering me with a pillow*

                                                               Five minutes later.
Me - *All quiet and good and trying really hard to stop giggling*
Boyfriend - Are you done?
Me - *Muffled* Mhm
Boyfriend - Are you sure?
Me - *Muffled* Yes
Boyfriend - How sure?
Me - *Muffled* Very sure
Boyfriend - *Slowly removes pillow*
Boyfriend - *Cracks up laughing and tries to shut me up again* DAMN YOU! I am going to chloroform you!

Ok so after that then I'm actually good and quiet and well behaved. Relatively. But I stop with the Penis Game. And, not to give you the wrong idea, I'm actually a very good girlfriend and rarely play this game. Or I'll start with the lines but never actually get past the initial movie lines because, well, I'm nice. Because, as previously stated, I'm a good girlfriend and like keeping my boytoy extraordinarily happy. This is mainly due to the fact that he keeps me super happy too.

Another thing about chloroform - can it kill you? Can you overdose on it? Hmmmmmmmm.... OH I wonder if you can be allergic to chloroform.
That's it! I'll tell Boyfriend I'm allergic to chloroform and he can no longer threaten me with it's nonexistent existence.
I wonder if you can be allergic to flunitrazepam. That would be crazy! The guy's just like I only meant to rufi her, I didn't want her to die. Oh how horrible. This is a now disturbing thought and I am moving on.

Back to allergies, I don't have any. I am really happy I don't have any. But then I have this sneaking suspicion that I actually have allergies and if I stop eating something it will miraculously make me taller and slimmer and healthier than ever and I could be a super woman model of the world! And then I promptly feel ridiculous because if anyone was going to be a super woman model of the world it would probably be Rachel McAdams.

Allergies are completely strange. I wonder when people started having allergies. It would have had to be after paleolithic times. Modern humans... Because really, it's not like the Homo Habilis and Homo Erectus who barely had stone tools, no forms of art, and rudimentary control of fire could have figured out that hey I ate a strawberry and it killed me, I shouldn't eat another one. And that being the case, they all would have been dead!
OH MY GOD I just figured out why the Neanderthals all died! They had allergies! YES! I am a genius.

Well I'm kinda sad. I realized that The Office is not going to end but they're losing Michael. He's quitting! And then the show will go on. That's horrible. If they try and replace key characters, especially on a 7 season show, the show goes to crap.

February 05, 2011


The funniest thing in the world is also one of the saddest.

Old deaf people talking to old deaf people. Conversations go a little like this:
(Old Deaf Person = ODP)

ODP 1 - Hello

ODP 2 - What?


ODP 2 - Oh hello

ODP 1 - My daughter's coming too

ODP 2 - What?

ODP 1 - My daughter!

ODP 2 - Oh what about her?

ODP 1 - What?


ODP 1 - Oh, have you seen her?

ODP 2 - No, why?

ODP 1 - Come again?

ODP 2 - Speak up I can't hear you

ODP 1 - Come again!

ODP 2 - WHY?

ODP 1 - Why what?

ODP 2 - Why haven't I seen your daughter?!

ODP 1 - Because she isn't here yet

ODP 2 - Where?

ODP 1 - Here!

ODP 2 - What?


ODP 2 - What about it?


February 03, 2011

You Know You're Pathetic/Weird/Mostly Pathetic When...

  1. You're going to be a senior in High School/sophomore in college next year and you're still begging your parents for rides.
  2. You have no job because you have nothing to put on resumes and that SCARES you.
  3. You wake up every morning at 3:30 and wonder if you're doomed to wake up at that time forever.
  4. The smell of  coffee turns you on.
  5. You ride the bus home and make up stories about the crazy people on it (ok no, that's just cool).
  6. You can't stop wishing you could fit in a 3 instead of being in between the 3 and the 5.
  7. You love books so much but somehow you never get to read them.
  8. You have an insane girl crush on Amy Adams.
  9. You would sooner do something with Amy Adams than you would with Ryan Reynolds.
  10. You think that even though he has an amazing body, Ryan Reynolds isn't all that sexy.
  11. You imitate radars (like in cars that beep when policemen are nearby).
  12. You imitate everything.
  13. Sometimes you imitate yourself.
  14. You still rely on the same people even though they're never really gonna come through for you.
  15. You love learning but you hate showing up for class.
  16.  You invent accents with alarming alacrity and then promptly forget them. 
  17.  You really really like saying alarming alacrity.
  18. All of your friends view you as either completely innocent and incapable of taking care of yourself, or completely evil and in need of supervision.
  19. A book makes you cry.
  20. You pretend you're a dinosaur or Nahdle when you're stressed.
  21. You have a happy dance that mainly involves jumping up and down in a circle and headbanging while imagining that you have huge pom poms that are making cool rustley sounds.
  22. You have to set your alarm an hour early so that you can actually get up on time.
  23. You run into things when you get up in the morning.
  24. You want to learn how to be amazing at all the things you hate just so that if you ever have to do them, you can blow people's minds with your incredible prowess.
  25. You have the vanity and confidence of Casanova but you can still look in a mirror and find 15 things that should be different.
  26. You're taking the time to blog about all the things that make you pathetic.
  27. You actually put the above statement in this post.
  28. You're laughing uncontrollably because most of these are like WHAT?!
If less than 5 of these apply to you, you're probably crazy and OCD and obsessed with something random like furniture.

If 6-10 of these apply to you then you're probably fairly normal if such a word exists.

If 11-20 of these apply to you then you're definitely on the weird side of pathetic.

If more than 21-27 of these apply... Why aren't we friends?

If all 28 of these apply then you're lying because you can't be 26 or 27!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

February 02, 2011

Hi Pretty Little Black Dress

Alright here's the deal. That thing called money? Oh it's SOOOOOOO over rated! Who needs money?! I mean really, it's not like it's necessary for survival or anything. You can do cool stuff without cash.

Who am I kidding... I need a job.

I found basically the perfect dress for my body type. Victoria's Secret(obviously), little, black, and lacy. The dress that would be skanky on anyone else but adores me because I can wear it with class. Now this dress is relatively inexpensive. Only $65 or so. The only problem? The perfect shoes are much. much. much more expensive. Bordering around $125. Painful anybody?

I really think I should have been born rich. That way I could just... Buy everything!!! I would own all the Diesel, Guess, Anthropologie, and Victoria's Secret stores from here to New York.
But then I think, I wouldn't have the wonderful gratification and pride from actually working my way up to being filthy rich. I would just have the pride from being filthy rich.
Either way, I want the dress and I want the shoes. Anyone feeling generous? :)

So on a completely unrelated note, I have discovered that when I am irritable, I am really really irritable! That sounds like it would be obvious but really, this could be the scientific discovery of the AGES. This tops Thomas Edison's cultivation of electricity! Ok not really but it's so much fun to say stuff like that.

February 01, 2011


I'm writing haiku
And this is how I'll start it
Now it's done - The End.

Pathetic, I know.
Here's the start of a new one.
Damn I'm good, woohoo.

Look!!!!! Again!!!!!! I am amazing. I could be the haiku writing master of the fucking WORLD! Yeah that's right. Japan you are going down!
I am in dire need of chocolate.
This post really has no rhyme or reason, not even in the haiku because it doesn't rhyme. And there's no reason for it. Lame.