Multi Grain "Squares"

Take a look a this box of Cascadian Farm organic cereal with multi grain squares... A seemingly innocent brand with a seemingly innocent box full of what one could only imagine is seemingly innocent cereal. When I pulled this box out of the cupboard to munch on this evening, that's exactly what I thought too-- but I was wrong. Oh so very wrong...

When I grabbed the first wheaty square out of the box, I didn't notice anything unusual; it seemed like a perfectly normal piece of cereal. I put it in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed without a second thought. By the time I had gotten to my fourth or fifth piece, however, I noticed with suspicion that something was terribly off.

The next piece of cereal that I extracted, I examined more closely. And that's when I saw the horrific error that I had so naively missed in my first five bites: though clearly advertised as a multi grain square, this wheatie looked astoundingly like a rectangle. In shocked repulsion, I raced downstairs with my specimen to the nearest ruler, where I quickly confirmed my worst fears that the "square" in question was, as a matter of fact, 1/8th of an inch longer than it was wide. This was no square..... but a rectangle!

Determined that such a respectable company would never intentionally fill a box of wheat squares with rectangles on purpose, I quickly retrieved the box-in-question and extracted another handful of cereal to test. However, to my utter revolt almost every "square" I examined bared the same loathsome measurements with a 1/8th inch discrepancy. Aghast with Cascadian Farms and their willingness to deceive innocent clientele, I relucantly ended my experiment after only 15 "squares". I had collected all of the information I needed to draw an accurate conclusion. Of the 15 test subjects, 12 were designated impostors, while only 3 maintained a true square-like exterior. Thus, I reached the astounding conclusion that in every bite of cereal, 4 out of 5 multi grain squares are actually rectangles.

The horrific discovery I made today will surely daze many loyal square-loving customers throughout the nation, but this dreadful truth must be made known. I regret that it has come down to this, but the deceit and treachery of Cascadian Farms has to be brought to light. I will, of course, be writing a strongly-worded letter to their president requesting that this terrible shape discrepancy be righted or their boxes changed immediately to say multi grain rectangles. I will also demand a public apology from their founder and a hefty sum of cash for my emotional pain and torment. I will not rest until the lies and manipulation of Cascadian Farms are brought to an end. I believe in a world where people can trust cereal boxes and eat their wheaties in peace. I will not tolerate for this injustice.

*Note: While writing all of this, I was actually sitting next to the box of multi grain squares-in-question. I absentmindedly ate about a fourth of the box and must confess that although they were all blatant rectangles, they were surprisingly delicious.

Most Normal Person of the Year

As I was sitting in my family room today, cutting all the words out of a book with my X-acto knife and glueing them into strips, I realized with a start that I am, unfortunately, the most ordinary person of my family. I am nothing more than a misunderstood, kind of normal soul in a family of crazies. You see, while sitting in my chair covered in glue and strips of paper in a state of revelation, I was interrupted from my thoughts only by the noisy footfalls of my sister as she ran up and down the hall, practicing her best gimp-like run.

Quite understandably, she was rehearsing for the role she landed tomorrow as the limping victim (and first casualty) of a local horror movie. That's right, while more ordinary sisters are spending their Saturdays shopping or eating salads, my sister will be dramatically practicing her demise, as she is bludgeoned to death by a cannibal with a bar of soap. I expect great things for her performance, and as I sat there this afternoon, merrily chopping at my book and watching my sister limp back in forth (in artistic determination), I couldn't help but hope that movie watchers everywhere will be touched by her heartfelt performance.

As this ruckus was unraveling downstairs, however, the rest of my family was busy with their own pastimes. My mom, for instance, was over at my Grandpa's, where she has taken to dutifully redecorating in hopes of fixing up the sad house for rent one day. Unfortunately, as my now somewhat-confused Grandpa continues to reside there, her efforts are currently in vain, as she is often distracted from her remodeling by his increasingly strange dilemmas. Several weeks ago, for example, she was dealing with an interesting situation involving 3 fire engines and a team of baffled firemen who were summoned by my Grandpa's emergency beckon. Apparently, his caretaker was taking too long to change his diapers, and my Grandfather, who is never one to hesitate in calling for help, dialed the fire department briskly for more efficient assistance with his pants. Though surely a worthwhile call, the firemen were less than pleased for some reason, and my poor mother was left to clean up the mess. Instances like this, along with the occasional midnight call from my Grandpa wondering why the sun isn't up when his clock clearly says it's noon, have kept her preoccupied for the time being.

My dad, as well, has his fair share of pastimes. While other middle age men enjoy simple activities like grooming their facial hair and smoothing out their sweater vests, my dad, on the other hand, finds excitement in surreptitious acts like smuggling more loads of garage sale "treasures" (aka JUNK) into our already-cluttered house. Anything is fair game for his for his roaming eye: plastic Japanese trees, pig-themed salt and pepper shakers, decorative-goose lawn decor, live birds -- you name it, we've got it. Not even my mother's protests can stifle his grotesque garage-saling addiction. Despite our earnest pleas, more junk continues to pour in, and my dad's secret stash of garbage (hidden stealthily under his bed), grows at an alarming rate almost daily.

In addition to my parents and I, my house also holds an eclectic collection of international students, dogs, and second-hand birds (mentioned in the previous paragraph). Influences like these make for constantly entertaining mealtimes as my dad tries to explain (once again) to our bewildered Japanese guests the exactly proper way one should eat a taco. Meanwhile, our morbidly obese dog, Sweetie, begs for scraps of food under the table, and our cannibalistic garage-sale birds attempt to spear each other to death in the corner. Throw in a sister who's talking about her latest zombie photo shoot, a mom exhausted by midnight phone calls, and a few pig salt & pepper shakers, and you've got yourself an authentic evening at the Ailie household!

Now back to my profound revelation earlier this afternoon, I think it is quite evident why I have crowned myself with the Most Normal Person of the Year Award in the Ailie family. Though my dad, with his array of plastic geese, was a close runner up, the votes were tallied, and it looks like his honorary picture will have to wait to hang on the fridge until next year's judging, as I am the clear victor of 2010. Though I expect the competition for the title to be steep next year, let's face it, unless I do something offbeat like grow a third arm or become a geisha, I've probably got the whole Normal Trophy in the bag.

Up and About.

As I have now semi-sort-of recovered from my sickbed, I am taking advantage of my (somewhat) healthiness to emerge from my dark cave of a room and get some coffee! Unfortunately, as I have not had coffee in several days, I think my poor system has been going through withdrawals. In fact, most of my symptoms of illness can probably be traced back directly to my lack of coffee in the past 48 hours. Disgusting. I should probably go to rehab or something to break my dependency on the substance, but, well.... I don't care... Anyways, I am now on my first outing in several days, and I am merrily sipping coffee in a half-sick daze at a nice coffee shop. Such is my life.... It's very pleasant and enjoyable.

Greetings from my Sickbed!

Yes, that's right, I am indeed sick! It's such great fun. What with the throbbing headaches, sudden temperature shifts, and inability to move without aching, I can hardly think of a greater way to spend my day! In addition, all of this lying around has given me an excellent opportunity to brush up on my fake cheerfulness and sarcasm... Yeah!!! Anyways, amidst my feverish Bed of Pain, I have decided to put my solid dedication to blogging to good practice, so even though my head is throbbing and I may die any minute, I am sacrificially taking the efforts to write this post. I hope that the world appreciates it.

So anyways, in celebration of being feverish and ill, I have decided to lighten the mood by googling a list of strange diseases to make me feel better about my current pathetic state. I have listed below a few of my favorites..

1. Human Werewolf Syndrome: a condition that causes people to grow hair all over their faces... I recommend googling images of this disease; you will find an amusing mix of really harry people and Taylor Lautner portraits.
2. Blue Skin Disorder: It's exactly what it sounds like! People with this disease simply have blue skin.... nothing else is wrong with them. They live completely normal lives, the only difference being that they can camouflage slightly better with the sky or water or large tubs of blackberry jam. Abilities like this could give the upper hand in, say, a game of hide and seek at a jam factory. I see many practical perks to this disease.
3. Vampire Disease: This one should hardly even be considered an ailment, as I can instantly think of at least a good 10 million or so preteen girls that would sell their souls to be infected. Anyways, people with vampire disease actually have skin that blisters in the sunlight- every Twilight fan's dream! Unfortunately, only a few are lucky enough to contract it. In addition, a victim also has the uncanny ability to turn into a bat upon will. Or um... something like that...
4. Pica: This basically makes people want to eat things that aren't food. Dirt, paper glue, clay.... When I googled this one, I found a picture of a boy with a frog in his mouth. I have no idea if he was actually ill or if he just liked eating frogs, but either way, I was mildly disturbed.
5. Jumping Frenchman Disorder: ahhhhahaa I didn't even read the description of this one. I just liked the name a lot. I assume, though, that the ailment would forcibly cause victims to jump around in striped shirts with baguettes and hearty french accents. I could read about what the disease actually is, but that would ruin my really great mental picture.

Anyways.... I wish I had more exciting things to blog about, but as I am bedridden and ill and knocking on Death's door, I really have nothing better to say. On the bright side, I have been heartily cheered by the fact that although I am sick, at least I do not have blue skin, a lot of hair, blisters, and a bad frog-eating habit.

Things could be worse, I suppose.

A Life of Crime

Well, one thing has led to another, and I am afraid I have accidentally eaten another loaf of bread singlehandedly... I am really not sure how these things keep happening to me. One moment I am innocently sitting next to a french baguette, and the next thing I know, the suspicious loaf-in-question has physically leapt at me from across the table and forced entry to my mouth before I even have a decent chance at self defense. When I come to my senses, I am staring (rather dazed and confused) at an empty plate. Often with a large blank gap in my memory, I have no recollection of the events that transpired and no clues to the puzzle apart from a line of crumbs leading up to me and a heavy, bready feeling in my stomach.

The mysterious disappearances of suspect bread loaves in my presence has grown worse lately, and as the expansive blank segments of my memory become more and more severe, the death toll of loaves in the vicinity continues to mount. I am beginning to see a correlation between the two. Loaves of bread in my house are particularly prone to untimely ends. Just today, a baguette (last spotted above the refrigerator at approximately 8:15 pm) went missing without a trace. The police have been notified of the incident, but thus far no clues have been unveiled.

I can't suppress a nagging feeling, however, that I may be somehow connected to these crimes... Strange disappearances of breaded items like this is not unusual in my household, and I often find mysterious traces of bread in strange places like behind my fingernails, tucked away in my coat pockets, or even hidden in my bed. I have heard cases of manic gluttons ripping loaves to shreds in psychotic fits before, but only recently have I begun to connect these stories to myself.

After much secrecy, suppressed anger, and denial, I am afraid I can hide the dark and hideous truth no longer.... I am a Serial Bread-Eater. Prone to obsessive attacks of hunger, I prey upon innocent loaves like a vampire bat hunting for human flesh. In vehement displays of gluttony, I am rendered helpless to my cravings. Carbohydrates shudder in my presence; loaves of bread flee like deer from a forest fire. One trip to the kitchen, and my memory almost routinely goes blank. I awake from my trance one loaf of bread fatter with one more mysterious disappearance weighing on my conscience.

With the problem ever increasing, police investigations around my house are becoming something to worry about. How long before they trace the missing loaves back to me? How many days can I allude capture? Though hardened by years of undetected crime, it is only a matter of time before I am caught. Bread-eaters like myself are particularly prone to imprisonment; one clever trap, and I'm done for. Nets hidden under spreads of toast; freshly baked cakes left lying around in giant cages; muffins wired with alarms or explosives-- any of these sneaky ambushes, and I'll find myself landed behind bars.

Such is the future of a serial bread-eater... I can only count my blessed days of freedom for so long. Heinous criminals like myself deserve to be punished, after all.

Really about Nothing at all.

Well, I have been sitting here now for at least a good 8 drawn-out and senseless minutes trying to think of anything eventful worth writing about in my life.... Unfortunately, I am coming up empty handed. I am afraid I will never get those 8 minutes of pointless sitting and brow-furrowing back. On the bright side, I can now fairly successfully pass myself off as one of those tormented writer types with the dark under eye circles and and unshaven beards... Success!

Anyways, for the sake of documentation, here is an account of my rather uneventful day:

I ate a peach today. It was quite satiating... not too hard, not too mushy.... And then, I spent 6 hours hunched over a painting that I made... and realized upon standing that I am now crippled with arthritic back pains and might die, so I was rushed to the emergency room where the doctors told me that the only way to heal my pain was to actually cut off my back, but when they brought out the saw to start cutting, my gag reflexes kicked in and I vomited all over the friendly surgeon who apparently is allergic to stomach acids, so he went into anaphylactic shock and died, and then I had to skip town because the cops were after me, only I am a cripple so I didn't get very far and the police found me miles short of Tacoma where they made a hasty arrest and hauled me off to the State prison where I am now rooming with a drug smuggler named Leonard and practicing my run-on sentences to pass the time until my 17 years on death row have expired or until I claw my way out through the walls with my metal spoon and spend the rest of my life keeping a low profile as a dog groomer by the name of Matilda.

I may as well drink a cyanide-laced cup of KoolAid like my pals at Jones Town and call it a day.

Ohhh the Good Old Days...

I was startled and rather alarmed today to unearth this interesting photograph of myself from the 7th grade.... It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I think that this one in particular speaks volumes. Several of them. It could probably write a series of 13 books or so, for that matter. Anyways, although the precise number of pages the personified form of this picture could write is under debate, what I'm trying to say is this: this picture says A LOT about me.

I know what you're thinking- "wow, what a totally normal and not-at-all strange or disturbed child!"- Yes, yes.... It may be shocking for my audience to hear (as my appearance in this picture oozes every sense of normality), but I was actually a bit on the weird side. You see, while other girls were out doing normal middle school things like shopping and trying out makeup, I, on the other hand, was definitely NOT....

For your enjoyment, I have listed below just a few of my favorite middle school activities:

• growing out my hair
• making up my own theme music to sing while walking around
• filming horror movies (complete with ketchup blood) in my backyard
• drawing hamsters... particularly hamsters on roller coasters
• growing out my hair some more
• making unidentified gurgling noises
• pretending I was a cripple
• wearing the same clothes every day
• growing out my hair

As one can see, these are actually not the healthy activities of a promising young woman. They are, in fact, more along the lines of a future hamster trainer or perhaps a mental ward resident. Either way... not a very promising future. Looking back, it is really a miracle that I turned out at all normal-ish. I may still sing my own theme music, and I may still pretend that I'm a cripple 2 or 3 times a day, but AT LEAST I have finally cut my hair.

No one can say I'm not trying.

Apparently, I am a Temptress... Sort of

Well, I am currently sitting at Starbucks, where I am afraid I may have just accidentally enticed a man. Shocking... I know. I guess that's what I get for forgetting to put on my floor-length nun's tunic and head piece when leaving the house this morning... it was entirely unintentional, I assure you.

Anyways, back to the story, I was just sitting here at Starbucks, innocently sipping my coffee and writing in my journal, when I looked up to notice a man staring at me from across the room. Naturally, I started writing really fervently and looking busy to dissuade him from approaching me, but apparently my womanly charm was too much to resist, and next thing I knew, he was over at my table striking up small talk. He began by making a witty comment about how we are both left handed, and I, being the excellent conversationalist that I am (HAHA), went along with it.

The reason for mentioning this guy in my blog, however, came several minutes later when he commented rather audaciously (after complimenting my appearance) that although I am currently well-dressed and put together, I obviously used to be a nerd..... WHAT?!?

This is actually the most perceptive thing a stranger has ever said to me. My only question is this: how did he know?! Does my personality simply ooze nerdiness? Is the fact that I like to watch Avatar the Last Airbender in my free time plastered on my face? Did he somehow know that I have a spare copy of Pokemon Ruby (for gameboy) in my purse? I really have no idea. But the fact of the matter is this: apparently, I am fooling no one with my feeble facade of coolness. What a devastating blow....

On a further downside, the man in question seemed to think the fact that I am actually a HUGE FREAK was a perk, because after several more minutes of small talk, he asked for my number with the hopes of "getting to know me better." Anyways, flattered as I was (sort of..), I reverted subconsciously to my primal instincts and gave him completely false contact information. I did feel a pang of guilt, however, as we walked away (for he did seem like a decent person... apart from the whole "nerd" comment), but I am far too content with my hermit hole of loneliness to start brazenly giving out my number to every many man in a coffee shop who asks for it.

Anyways, to prevent future occurrences of the sort, next time I go out I plan to wear a full-body covering complete with head scarf to insure that I do not accidentally entice any innocent bystanders. This may be the only way to prevent such things from happening again. Though on second thought, it looks like my sad, nerd-like qualities are actually VERY evident to strangers, so perhaps I don't need to worry about it, after all.

Ahhhhh my life is so humorous.... in a sad and pathetic sort of way.

In the Wise Words of J14....

After a hearty afternoon of lounging by the pool and perusing preteen magazines, I feel I have gained a far more profound and insightful look at the world, one oozing with the truths only dared to be spoken in the newest J14 edition for middle school girls. Though many will surely scoff at my newfound discoveries, these preteen magazines have pierced my heart in a way that volumes of classical literature could never hope to rival... Below I have composed a list of ABSOLUTE TRUTHS that I have learned today from the writers of J14. Every word of it is true. And by true, what I mean to say is that they are not lying. They would never do that to me.

REALLY INTERESTING THINGS I LEARNED TODAY:

1. Justin Bieber probably wants to marry me. The magazine implied on almost every page that Justin and I are soul mates... He is out there somewhere, looking for love, waiting for me to fling myself at him from behind a dumpster or hidden in his hotel room.

1b. Justin Bieber likes dolphins... He would probably like a girl who also likes dolphins.

2. If a boy asks you if you've seen any good movies lately, he is DEFINITELY POSITIVELY WITH OUT A DOUBT asking you out. Experts say there is absolutely no other explanation for such a phenomena.

3. If you don't have a boyfriend, you're actually kind of a massive loser. You will probably end up hating yourself and dying alone.

4. True to the previous statement, my horoscope implied that I will never find love, end up hating myself, and die alone. This seems.... oddly accurate....

5. I now know how to do my eye makeup JUST LIKE Seline Gomez... Yes!!!

6. Justin Bieber is a fan of taking naps. If you also are a fan of taking naps, Justin might want to marry you.

7. Blowing bubbles and eating lollipops are two really great (and practical!) ways to get over a bad heart break.... straight from the mouth of a very wise and profound Demi Lovato.

8. Justin Bieber... loves me...

9. If a boy asks you if you have a twitter account, that is his own personal way of saying, "I am madly in love with you, and i desperately want to marry you (and follow you on twitter!!) as the deepest expression of my passion."

10. After a long and very accurate personality quiz, I discovered that if I was a movie star, I would be that one girl from iCarly who eats LOTS of chicken and beats people up. Sounds pretty accurate.

Well... there you have it. I have learned some shocking things today, but have emerged from the whole experience years wiser. Now that I know of pop singer Justin Bieber's undying affections for ME (and no one else... says the magazine), I will probably give up college and follow him on the road, stealing tissues that he throws in the trash and waiting for the fateful day we find each other. Unless of course, my horoscope proves true, and I am actually doomed to be an old and embittered spinster.... that may complicate things a bit.

On a happier note, thanks to a very convenient packet of temporary tattoos (courtesy of J14), I now have a miniature portrait of Justin's very good-looking cranium tattooed to my ankle! It's like carrying a little piece of his soul with me wherever I may go... He will reside happily on my ankle for the rest of my days. Or until I choose to shower. Whichever comes first.

Really Interesting Things.

Oh, gosh.

I'm afraid I've been a truly crap blogger this past week. It's because my life is kind of sad and uneventful, so I therefore have nothing of interest to say. My apologies.

On a brighter note, I learned a new word today!!

Absquatulate: to flee; to abscond

A very practical addition to my vocabulary, don't you agree? I plan to use the word at least once every other sentence for... um.... the rest of my life. Anyways, I once again apologize for absquatulating from my writing duties this past week. I will no longer absquatulate. In fact, as of this moment, I write off all of my absquatulating ways in favor of a life of non-absquatulation (YES! IT DOES HAVE A NOUN FORM).

Anyways... that's all I have to say... about absquatulating....

Brianna

Queen of the Non-absquatulaters

Crowned champion of those who do not absquatulate

Chairman of the Anti-Absquatulation Board

I bid you good day.

I think it's Time for a New Calling.

Well, after an embarrassing defeat by a third grader yesterday in a game of Monopoly, I have finally come to the harsh realization that I will never, in fact, be a successful real estate owner... After years of careful plotting, I think it is finally time to give up on my dream of monopolizing all of the real estate in the world in favor of a more simplistic aspiration. There are many worthy careers out there, and I am sure that even a person stupid enough to be bested by an 8-year old in Monopoly has a chance at success somewhere.

Anyways, in hopes of finding a noble substitute for my life's ambition, I have taken the time to list below some alternative career options. Hopefully, one of them will fulfill the gaping void in my heart where my passion for real estate used to reside...

1. Undercover Pet Detective: Although the perks of having my own television show would certainly be an asset, my interest in this profession rises out of a deep-set desire to bring justice to all animal-related crimes. I am a friend to all things furry or feathered and will not rest until I have landed every animal adversary behind bars.

2. Secondhand Clothing Bejewel-er: According to the CIA world fact book, there is a severe bejeweling deficit in North America. Clothing bejewelers are sought after far and wide; therefore, I plan to open an outlet mall clothing store where semi-untrendy middle aged women can shop for pants covered in sequins and jeweled handbags in peace.

3. Dolphin Whisperer: A practical career for those gifted with the ability to speak to dolphins (like me)... Us dolphin whisperers often specialize as aquatic trainers at Sea world or deep sea investigators.

4. Circus sword/fire eater: finally a chance to put my sword and fire-eating abilities to good use! The circus is a safe haven for 2-headed and heavily bearded women like myself to express our odd talents in a secure environment. I am sure I would fit right in. It would also be a good chance for my siamese twin sister and I to practice our synchronized acrobatics.

5. German Folk-Dancer: As I already have several years of folk dancing experience under my belt (thanks to elementary school German class), I am sure I would adapt quite well to this profession. Not to mention, I am rather fluent in German and can, quite effortlessly, sing a multi-verse song about bananas. Ask me sometime, I will astound you.

6. Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Due to an unfortunate curse on most Dark Arts positions, there is often a high demand for wizards like myself in this profession. This would be an excellent opportunity to put my knowledge of defensive jinxes to good use, and I am confident that with my magical glass eye and affinity for black robes, I would prosper at the job.

7. Nun: This job is for those wishing to answer to a higher calling... also for those who are musically inclined and hope to win the heart of a widowed military captain and his 7 children through song (and clothing made of curtains!)

These are just a few of the many possibilities that await me in the world... I am sure that one of these jobs will find me happiness. And also a hearty pay check with a good insurance plan and 1 month of paid vacation a year.

I am a winner.

True to this post's title, I am, as a matter of fact, a winner.

This realization was thrust upon me this morning, as I noted with great satisfaction that I have now accomplished a major goal set for myself several years ago: to become a habitual tea-drinker and eater of carrots. Now to many, this may seem like a small matter of achievement, but to me, it is monumental. You see, I was born (unfortunately) a vehement hater of both tea and carrots. Though this horrific truth may be shocking to those of more fragile nerves, I am grieved to confirm the news. In my mind's eye, tea was watery and disgusting, and carrots were enough to physically make me gag. Throughout my childhood, I was set in my ways... stubbornly refusing cups of tea and eschewing carrots with a firm hand.

However, several years ago, my eyes were opened. I began to sense a void in my life, one that could only be filled by a hearty bowl of carrots and a cup of tea. But try as I might, I could not make myself enjoy either. With this grave realization in mind, I vowed that I would not rest, and I would not sleep, until I had forced myself to appreciate these two sought-after delicacies. It was a weighty challenge for one so young to brave, but after many years of toil and hardship, I can now say with exuberant satisfaction, that I ingest (and enjoy!) both tea and carrots on a regular basis.

I am after all, a winner. With this accomplishment behind me, I can now set my sights to greater things, like levitating spoons with my mind and eating/regurgitating kittens, for starters. But before I plot out my next triumph, I plan on putting my current achievements to good use. I have recently joined the Olympic carrot-eating team, for example, and plan on bringing home the gold for our beloved country in the summer of 2012. In addition, I am using my impeccable tea-drinking expertise (and convincing British accent) to join the FBI and infiltrate Great Britain's house of Parliament. Our plan is to collapse the monarchy one cup of tea at a time.... No big deal, really.

Anyways, with these things in mind, I have my tasks set out for a while. A winner is always in high demand, I have learned, but that is a price I am willing to pay.

Above: Me casually enjoying a mouthful of carrots and refreshing mug of tea