Jack Frost nipping at your patience

In the occupational world, there a few jobs that exist specifically so that people can target other people; this stems from humanity's curious tendency to either distrust or despise each other. You want to have somebody followed, hire a Private Investigator. Somebody's hopping bail, rope in a bounty hunter. Need somebody rubbed out, get a hitman. Now, because this is the case, what if there were a profession in which somebody was hired to target a person for the purpose of annoying them and wasting their time? If such a job existed, I think that Jack Frost would be an excellent candidate.
Now, I admit I have lead a sheltered life; I have never really had to deal with car frost prior to this year, and so I never really had a problem with it. However, now that I have no garage, I must (on the days I actually HAVE a car, at least) leave it out in the parking lot where it will, without fail, form a thick layer of frost. This is where Jack Frost has proven himself to be a PROFESSIONAL WASTER OF MY TIME, because I cannot tell you how many mornings I have left in plenty of time to get to class, and then still been late because I was scraping frost off my car windshield so I wouldn't die. And you know what? I still can't see a blasted thing. Frost is definitely trying to do me in as well... Needless to say I now have a nemesis.

Also, a side note, while professional time wasters are the bane of my existence, I admit that it IS nothing less than my greatest desire to be professionally creepy, a fact which I have stated many a time to various acquaintences. There is a difference, for those who might point out my hypocrisy: I just want to be paid for weirding people out, not pissing them off. Nobody ever was late for a meeting because somebody was standing too close to them in the elevator and breathing loudly. Nyeah!

A cup of Christmas shame

I consider myself to be very good at quite a few things. Of course, my proficiency in so many things,( when added to the fact that I'm already really really ridiculously good-looking,) tends to make my head a bit swollen. Fortunately, Christmas is a time where everyone is provided with the tools needed to better themselves, and so, every year, I a receive a big ol' dose of Christmas humility. This is particularly due to the fact that I suck at Christmas. Not even kidding; anything that has to do with dressing things up to be festive (such as decorating, frosting cookies, or wrapping presents,) I am hopelessly bad at. Now, I consider myself to be pretty artistically minded; able to make things look good, but not at Christmas. What makes this all the worse is that everyone else is really good at all that stuff. If any group effort is made to do something Christmassy, you can always tell which things I did because they look like they were done by a chimp with Palsy. I really wish I had a picture of the presents I wrapped next to the others around the tree, but alas, my camera is at my apartment, but I assure you, it is quite comical. My wrapping skills are now a running gag in my family, and when they are combined with my already abysmal handwriting, it is quite a sight to behold.

Anyway, thank you, Christmas, for keeping me humble, just maybe in the future let me retain SOME Of my dignity. I'd appreciate it.
Cheers.

Just a bit of unstructured post-finals musing

I really want to start bringing projectiles to lob at couples who make out in my computer lab. Not like they bug me or anything, but just cause they're stupid and it would be funny. But seriously, I've seen these people waste tremendous amounts of time because they have to keep leaning over to suck face, and I'm like "Dude... just do your homework, I'm positive that a half hour of not making out wont do any damage to your relationship." but instead I watch them screw off for hours, in which I'm sure they could be doing absolutely anything else (including not sitting in an uncomfortable computer lab with nauseating florescent lighting,) It kind of boggles the mind... Perhaps I'm just missing something for never having been in a romantic relationship, but good grief! The couple I'm looking at right now has been here for two hours, and they have not gotten ANYTHING done.
Yes. It's very nice that you're in love, but unfortunately nobody cares. Now how about using your very limited computer time in a way that isn't dumb?
And I'm not bashing on romantic relationships. Being in love is great, but it just seems like it ought to be supplementary to your regular life and not waste time in all the important things that you still have to do whether you're in a relationship or not. Perhaps I'm just a moron, but heck, who wants a relationship where all you do is get in each others' way?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can hit the guy in the head with my pen from over here... Toodles!

What have we created??!?

Time and again, science has proven itself to be a means through which man gains hold of powers beyond his understanding or control. This has shown time and again with things like the atomic bomb, cloning, breast implants, and World of Warcraft. Of course, these are all extreme cases, but there are many more such things in our grasps that hold power beyond our comprehension. Let me take a detour for a moment and talk about another of man's inventions: The wheel. Over time, variations of this invention have emerged, providing man with steadily advancing forms of transportation until finally came the birth of the modern automobile. Currently, each of these automobiles come with a list of standard safety features that must be included before they can be released to the general public; among these is the ubiquitous car horn. Now, its purpose is clear; alert the other drivers that whatever they are doing is a bad idea in order to prevent an accident. However, most people do not quite understand the magnitude of this invention. Much like The Force or the Sorcerer's Stone, the horn can be a source of unspeakable evil and destructive power if placed in the wrong hands. Every driver on the road has, at their fingertips, the power to annoy everyone else on the road to the point of insanity with a simple motion.What's more is that, should you chose to exercise this power, nobody can do anything about it. Sure, they can shout at you, flip you off, and mentally curse you into oblivion, but anything they could possibly do that might actually deter you would get them arrested or cause damage to their own precious Camero. Furthermore, as a male, you can use it to offend every woman you happen to drive by on any given excursion. You could also wake up an entire city block, harass pedestrians in the mall parking lot, or ruin the whole day of your fellow rush hour drivers. Even more worrisome is this: like the one ring, the horn is a corrupting presence, so even if you have no intent to use it for evil, the idea of wielding such great power will continue to eat at you until one day, when the guy in front of you is going 25 in a 50 Mph zone, the temptation will overpower you, and then you will be lost.
In fact, I think the main problems in society today do not, as everyone seems to believe, stem from the bad parenting, video games, or the stress of a failing economy, but instead from car horns. Once one has felt the thrill of being an arse on the road, it becomes like a drug and carries to other areas of their life, where it continuously increases in frequency and magnitude. Slowly but surely, we are left with a whole society of jerks of varying intensity, from which arises criminal activity, poor manners, and long lines at the DMV.

There you have it. There are some things that man would do better to just leave alone.
Case-in-point; you invent the car horn, you ruin society.
Thanks a heap, science.

I believe in --

I realized something the other day.
Santa Clause is a fairy. Think about it. He buzzes around at night and grants wishes to children, he possesses the ability to make reindeer fly, and he only exists if you believe in him.
By that logic, I have concluded that Santa Clause is also the TOOTH FAIRY! I know we all reason that the tooth fairy is a woman, but have any of us actually SEEN her? Of course not! Santa is the only one who makes a regular public appearance, but what do you think he does for the rest of the year? I mean, sure, it does take a good while to get ready for Christmas, but it's not like he takes any part in the preparations besides making that list. Christmas eve is his one BIG job of the year, in which he exercises his ability to get around the world in one night. The rest of the year he dons a tutu and only visits a select few houses, still spread equally far apart, and exchanges money for teeth. I mean, we all KNEW Santa was loaded, so it makes sense that he'd be able to keep the teeth business up as well.
What does he DO with the teeth? Well, you know how Santa always knows if you've been bad or good? Even being a fairy, and therefore magic, Santa cannot see everything. Before a child is old enough to lose their teeth, it is assumed that they are good, because they do not have a developed sense of right and wrong yet. However, once they get old enough, Santa needs to keep an eye on them, and so he uses their baby teeth. The teeth are plugged in to the right place in the correct child's monitor, and the mystic bond between the tooth and the child (heavily reliant on the child's belief in magic) is read by a machine, which writes a report on the significant positive or negative actions performed by the child in question. As children age, they require heavier monitoring, so more teeth are required. By the time the full set of teeth is in place, the child's belief in Santa usually begins to dwindle, and the connection fizzles out, and the teeth are discarded and ground down to make sleeping dust, which the Sand Man (AKA the Tooth Fairy AKA Santa Clause) sprinkles over the earth as he flies over the world each night to retrieve lost teeth.
It makes perfect sense. Do not question my genius.

It has also come to my attention that Santa might also be confused with the Easter bunny, possibly because many people imagine the Easter bunny to be a GIANT PINK RABBIT. This is a lie. His elves do it. There is not one Easter Bunny, there are many.
Santa has better things to do than hide eggs for obese children, you presumptuous cad.

Candy Land Conspiracy

I have a confession to make:
I do not recall having ever played a game of Candy Land fairly if I could get away with it. I was devious too, and everyone was all too willing to leave me alone with the deck so I could rig it. It's really easy too, you just count off every other card and slip the jump cards in every so often, just space them out so as not to be conspicuous. Heck if it made my niece cry, I wasn't about to lose to a 5 year old!
What can I say? I was a sore loser.

However, I realized recently that by depriving the other players of the character cards, I was subconsciously protecting them, because EVERY CHARACTER IN CANDY LAND IS A RAPIST! Just look at them!

I couldn't find good pictures of the characters from the version I want, so I'll just have to make do with this clock I found on the internet.
See what I mean? Look at how they cheerfully and innocently offer candy to the pretty little blond children, but beneath the jolly, rosy surface you can see ulterior motives. Every single one of them. See that green thing next to the plum tree? What's he holding behind his back? And you know the tree knows what he's up to, you can see the horror through its fake smile. And Mr. Mint? You just know he can't be up to anything good with those candy canes. NOBODY likes candy canes -- you think you do, but then when you get about halfway done, you can't stand it anymore -- especially not enough that there needs to be a PAID CANDYCANE LUMBERJACK. I don't buy it. Not. One. Bit.
I think the worst is the little passage between Lord Licorice and the Jolly gumdrop prick. You are literally surrounded. Even if you make a move to back away from one, the other one is right behind you and can grab you and drag you off with no problem (Incidentally, Beth made a comment once about how Lord Licorice reminds her of the Child-snatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang). And don't try to tell me they wont. Nobody can dress like they do and offer candy to little kids with anything else in mind.
Now, Granny Nut is probably not a rapist, fair enough, but she does want to lure you into her (literal) nut-house and eat your internal organs. Nobody can live alone in a house made/full of nuts without being completely cracked (bad pun) and probably a witch.
Princess Lolly over there is meant to work her sweet little Lolita charm on you and lure you along the path to Queen Frostine, who you just KNOW is waiting to put some sort of sleep or submissiveness charm on you. These two are enablers. Don't trust them.
Gloppy the swamp thing has his intentions written clearly on his face, and he possesses the especially terrifying ability to suck you in and hold you there.
Finally, King Kandy is the worst of the bunch, with his puffy pants and pink beard, beckoning you into the wondrous candy castle, promising mounds of sweets and magical things, the likes of which you have never before experienced. Of course, you're still floating from Frostine's Roofie spell, so you nod and let him lead you by the hand inside and close the door. It's the confectionary equivalent of a man in an unmarked "ice cream" truck telling little kids that he has candy and a bike in the back of the truck. Plus he looks like the Burger King, who we all know is a registered sex offender.
I'm sure you're probably all horrified by now, as well you should be. These guys cannot be trusted and the world must be told.

There you go. I ruined Candy Land for you.
You will never be able to think of it in the same way again.
You're welcome.

...Hope I succeeded in ruining your childhood, just like the Candy Land characters did to those pretty blond children. :D

Tribute to "The Face"

I would like to share with you a story of something that has had a profound impact on my life and holds a special place in my heart:

Once upon a time I was on choir tour last year. It was to be the last year that the school district would allow the choirs to go to Anaheim, which is dumb, but fortunately for me, it was my Senior year, but I digress. It was Friday, the second day of tour, and after a long day of running about and singing all over the place, we got the chance to settle down for a bit and see a play. The play in question was "The Scarlet Pimpernel" which is an awesome book, so I was psyched. Anyway, as we were getting settled into our seats ("we" being me and Aubrey, cause nobody else wanted to sit next to us because we're freaks,) I happened to look across the theater and this is what I saw:

ostensibly, an artist's rendition of this official piece:

but again, I digress...
Well, upon sight of the rather bizarre-looking being staring back at me from across the room, I completely lost it. Aubrey was bewildered as to what I was laughing at for a moment, but then she saw it too. There was no helping us after that. I do not recall, in my conscious memory ever having laughed harder, or longer, at one image than I did on this night. A range of confused reactions, from worried looks to "What the heck is wrong with you two?" came from our peers in the surrounding seats; the only thing we could manage to squeak out was "the face!" and point to the picture. This continued until the play started, and we were both red-faced, gasping, clutching our sides in pain, and everyone around us was pretending not to know us. I found recently, much to my delight, that the official choir tour photographer had a good four or five pictures just of Aubrey and I laughing at the face. Perhaps this will give you a good idea of the intensity of our euphoria.


We managed to get a hold on ourselves when the lights dimmed, but the face continued to stare back at us, catching our attention at the most inopportune times, particularly during very serious parts of the play, causing us to lose it all over again.
Even after we left the playhouse, "the face" as we affectionately dubbed it, would live on in immortal glory, and would stay with us forever. Though none but Aubrey and I ever fully appreciated the true magnitude of "the face", it changed our lives. In the darkest of times, no matter what happens, I can always remember "the face" and, depending on the day, either smile, or split my sides. It really is that powerful.

So here's to "the face."
Although I hardly knew you, I will never forget the time we shared.
Thank you.

Plush pre-destination

I have, for a while been sitting on a theory that I think I am now ready to propose:

When we are very young, it is a common practice for our parents to give us a comfort object, usually a stuffed animal, that we develop a strong attachment to. My theory is that the species of said object will invariably determine certain sets of personality or occasionally physical traits that the child will develop.

I first became aware of this while at a family dinner. I was holding my nephew Kayden (who favors a stuffed monkey) who was clinging tightly to me with his hands and feet, as all the while, his brother Nekoda (who favors a dog) looked up at me with wide brown eyes and begged for some of the food that I had in my hand. Glancing over, I also saw my sister's boy, Zackary, carrying his stuffed giraffe as he loped calmly across the living room, looking very docile. It was then that I began to ask around: My sister Laurel had a moose, and is very long-limbed and somewhat clumsy, and had a particularly awkward, gawky adolescence. My mom had a bunny, and is a bit timid and anxious at times, but is soft and cuddly. One friend who favored a blanket is a particularly warm and comforting presence. I myself had a bear, and am very protective of my friends and nieces/nephews, to the point where I can be very vicious, however, I also feel very warm and motherly towards those I protect. To put the icing on the cake, tonight, my new nephew, Patrick, received his very first "lovey" in the form of a stuffed bear. Immediately upon closing his arm around it he began making a low growling noise. Kiya recently got hers as well -- a cat-- but has not quite acquired enough of a grasp on it to develop a bond. I will be watching closely.

This is a very powerful discovery, and could, if used wisely, be a very important tool for shaping the upcoming generation.

My first son is getting a stuffed Batman.

Christmas Tiiiiiimmeee is Heeeeeeerrreeee!

Happiness and cheer.
Fun for all
that children call
their favorite time of year.
-A Charlie Brown Christmas

This most wonderful season of Christmas brings about some of my favorite things in the world to experience, and it all begins when the decorations first come out and the tree goes up. The process of pulling everything out of the boxes in the basement and making the entire house sparkle with all of my favorite decorations from my childhood makes my heart burst with so much happiness that I hardly know how to express it. It is at times like these when I do the Snoopy dance.

Let us all take a moment to remember Snoopy. The little spotted dog who never said a word (in the animated show at least) but still said so much, particularly with his characteristic dance:



This dance is nothing less than the most simple and joyful expression of pure elation that can possibly be portrayed by a mortal creature. Nobody can say that their world doesn't become a little brighter for just a minute at the sight of Snoopy dancing gleefully on Schroeder's piano during the Christmas special. The pose in the center of the bottom row is my particular favorite; THAT, my friends, is pure, unadulterated joy. Just try it: Stick your hands up in the air, tilt your head back, smile, and skip rhythmically, and just try to tell me that it doesn't make you feel good. Or, if you're already feeling good and don't know how to express it, this is the perfect dance.

In any case, during this amazing season, we should all take a few minutes to pay tribute to Snoopy: Turn on the Peanuts Christmas Album, take a few minutes, and
Do the Snoopy Dance!

Book by its cover...

I haven't seen New Moon yet, and frankly, I don't intend to for a while -- I really don't feel inspired to shell out 7 bucks for a movie that is pretty much guaranteed to blow-- but I have seen the pictures. Now, I hated the book with a fiery passion. I hated it so hard that it shook me right out of my squealing teenage obsession with the series, and I never went back, but film is a different medium, so I figured I should at least give it something of a chance; at least the Twilight movie didn't blow as hard a the book did in my opinion, but I digress. From what I can gather from pictures, trailers, and reports from my fellow Internet-ites (most significantly the SpoonyOne,) the movie is pretty much about rippling, shirtless Native Americans, with the occasional subplot about codependency, and Cedric Diggory, who Voldemort must have REALLY done a number on after he was killed, because he is now pasty and unlikable. Sounds pretty much like the book, except for at least in the book, Diggory was spared the blow to his dignity by NOT appearing in it. Anyway, I don't know that much about it, so I'm not going to rant, but I did notice one thing as I briefly glanced over movie stills on Google Images. I may be the only one who thought this, but something about the Volturi (the bad evil Italian vampires) seems a bit familiar:

I don't think the dude off to the right side is one of the main ones, but still, you got it yet?
Let me see if I can make it a little easier:


HOLY SNAP! The evil league of vampires is led by the Jonas Brothers!! I knew they were up to something! I mean, they're exactly the same, right down to them being dead-eyed, bland, and sparkly. Not to mention the hoards of screaming fangirls they have at their mercy, not unlike a certain brooding, emotionally abusive shell of Cedric Diggory we all know...
Be afraid, folks, be very afraid... And if you get offered a free trip to Italy, DON'T TAKE IT! The Jonas Brothers just want to devour your soul and drain any of the essence that their music hasn't already sucked out of your body.

Anyway, while we're making comparisons, I thought I'd just throw this one out there too:



Blue Steel much, Jasper?
My theory is that Jas is the son that Derek and Matilda had at the end of Zoolander, and even though he LOOKS like he's in pain, he's really just trying to be like his old man. Keep trying, kid, it takes a lot of work to be really really ridiculously good-looking.

And now I have to write a Psychology paper. Pity I can't write THAT about shirtless Native Americans, but just because I'm so freaking generous, I'll leave you with some:



You're welcome. Now get out, and don't get nosebleed on the carpet.

A Potentially Amusing Anecdote

I found out today that more people actually read my blog than I thought, so I have to start updating more regularly... which means that I have to start having interesting things to say more regularly. Hmm.

L'anyhoodle, today I remembered an episode from my middle school years that, quite frankly, I am shocked at myself for forgetting, especially since it made me laugh out loud when it suddenly sprang back to my memory after all these years:
So, it seems that in my 6th or 7th grade math class there was a particularly grating youth that I often engaged in battles of wits with (though he was ill equipped.) He sat behind me and frequently put his feet on the back of my desk (something that wouldn't bother me if he didn't MOVE HIS FEET constantly and shake my desk.) I was a quiet thing in those days, and I had asked him kindly a couple times to stop, but not very often, because I was not inclined to speak very much. So one day I decided to teach him a lesson: making sure he wasn't watching, i stealthily leaned over and tied his shoelaces to the back leg of my desk (double-knotted just to be sure) and waited. When the bell rang, he went to heave himself out of his desk but, unaware that his feet weren't about to move, performed a spectacular fall, dragging my desk at least a foot across the floor as he lunged. After a moment of bewilderment, he realized that he was stuck and became very upset. "TEACHER! She tied my laces to the chair!" he nearly shrieked, face a brilliant shade of red. The teacher, already doubled over in fits of laughter, managed to gasp out an inquiry as to why I had done such a thing. I responded in my quiet, sensible tone "He wouldn't get his feet off my chair." The teacher nodded in approval and turned back to the kid, who was now furiously demanding that I be punished. Teacher raised his eyebrows and told the kid it served him right, then gestured that I should run along, and went back to his activities, leaving the kid to struggle with his tightly knotted shoes, still red-faced and irate at being bested by a girl. I felt a strange twitch in the corner of my mouth as it twisted up into what would eventually become my characteristic smirk, and I walked away, feeling quite smug. I think that, to this day, that was the most satisfying thing that I have ever gotten away with, and I'm quite sure that it set a course for the rest of my life. I'm still furious at myself for forgetting about such a monumental day in my life; my crowning moment of awesome, marking the start of the development of my current wry, smirking demeanor and sense of grim humor that is so crucial to my being. In the very least, I'm pleased to know that I was so twisted even in my late larval stage; it gives me hope for the future.

... I've got it...

I've got the madness!

I'VE GOT CABIN FEVER!!!



Anyone up for some anarchy?