Outer Space.... Here I Come.

For those of you who don't know, this quarter I have been forced into taking a mandatory science credit and have wisely chosen Planets (!!!) because of my undying passion for all things planet-related. That's right, I am now an official lover of planets and outer space and everything else that's not on earth. I love space so much more than most things... I even took the time to compose this brief list of things that I do not love as much as planets:

Things that I do not Love as Much as Planets

1. Dead raccoons

2. Muffins baked with shards of glass

3. Satan

You see...?!?! You see how much I love planets..?!?! They are, quite literally, my favorite things ever.

Anyway, after a couple days in said Planets class, I have come to the extraordinary conclusion that I have lived out the last 19 years of my life in a blind cloud of deceit. You see, it turns out that I am not called to be a designer as I once imagined... my calling in life -- my soul purpose for breathing -- is to become an astronaut.

In light of this realization, I have decided to look at this class as a sort of practical Astronaut-training course aimed at non-science majors who may or may not want to project themselves into space one day. The leader of our troop is Professor Woody Sullivan (beloved Sexagenarian and Planet Extraordinaire), whose single calling is to train us for the many trials we may one day face in our voyage to outer space.

Yesterday, for instance, we learned how to impersonate planets (a handy talent for all new astronauts)! That's right -- at the fervent insistence of Astronaut Sullivan, we left the comfort of our heated classroom, trooped outside, stood around (excitedly!) in the rain, and pretended to be planets while our frazzled TA arranged us in accordance to the solar system. Brilliant. This course is already paying off.... Planet Impressions are Astronaut Survival 101, after all. What could be a handier method of camouflage whilst in outer space than a convincing planet impersonation?

The rest of the course, I'm sure will be just as riveting. We already have our first homework assignment: calculate the surface area of the moon. How relevant! How practical! My world will never be the same again. I honestly do not know how I have pioneered through life so far without knowing this helpful bit of information... There are so many practical instances in my everyday life where it is pertinent that I know how to calculate a planet's surface area! Here are a few examples:

1. You have stumbled across a nerd convention by mistake, and you desperately want to impress people with your planetary know-how.

2. You are being held at gunpoint by a terrorist who is trying to blow up the moon. In an effort to be helpful, you tell him the surface area of the moon, and he is so pleased with your knowledge of the solar system that he lets you go.

3. You have entered a Surface-Area-Finding competition and the category is celestial objects.

4. You have done something terrible to embarrass yourself. Just start loudly rambling off your surface area computations, and everyone will be so impressed, that they will completely forget about the incident.

(The list could go on.....)

This class is preparing me for the real world. While other students are sitting in a bored sort of stupor, listening to mundane Earth science lectures and waiting to die, MY Professor is preparing us for something practical. My horizons have been broadened, my passion for space travel is now awakened, and my life will never be the same again.

I will shoot for the stars. Literally.

--------

p.s. Check out my planet impersonation.... In the following two pictures, one will be a real planet, and one will be me pretending to be a planet. Don't feel badly if you can't tell them apart. It takes a keen eye and a lot of specialized space training to decipher.

My Professor, the Sexagenarian.

My Planets professor told my class proudly this morning, while pausing from his description of Jupiter's rings, that he is an esteemed sexagenarian. He offered no explanation, continued his lecture, and seemed quite oblivious to the bewildered whisperings of his students.

Anyway, after spending the entire afternoon believing that Mr. Woody Sullivan is some sort of criminal sex offender, I finally googled the term. I am pleased to announce that sexagenarian is merely a (not-at-all suggestive) phrase referring to people who are in their 60s... What a relief.

Boredom, at its Finest.

I am just sitting on my bed, practicing my best impersonation of a half-dead slug and watching the hours slowly pass away. No need to worry yourselves, though... I'm getting very good at it. It turns out I have a knack for oozing in a useless sort of manner whilst secreting large amounts of mucus from my pores! I'm just squelching about happily like a slug who has been taught by scientists to operate a computer, lolling around on the internet and occasionally sliming on the keyboard in an attractive sort of manner. You know... The norm. Today is my last day of Christmas break after all, and I am trying to spend my free time wisely, which basically means being lazy and doing NOTHING AT ALL.

Sometimes I really do feel like I should make an effort to be more interesting, though. I would probably have more devote fans if instead of lying here pretending to be a slimy insect, I went out and fought crime on the streets or learned to speak Hebrew backwards. From this moment on, I vow to make a greater effort to be more suave and talented. I will be like one of those misunderstood poet-types with black fingernails and perfectly-combed mustaches. Only minus the mustache part, because I am actually a girl, you see. And most girls can't really grow mustaches, unless they have some sort of hormonal imbalance. And even then, they probably wax it or shave it or have it burned off with a lazar gun. But that is completely besides the point.

Anyway, as I was saying before I went off on my tangent about the joys of womanly facial hair, I am having a very boring and dull sort of day. And the worst part of the matter is that it was actually self-induced. I woke up this morning, reveling in the last sunny glow of Christmas break, with a determination to spend my final day of freedom with as much relaxation as possible. Ten zillion cups of snack-pudding later, however, I am beginning to feel very bored. I have quite literally done nothing all day long.

On a brighter note, I've made at least one great accomplishment within the last 24 hours. I have discovered that pudding tastes better if you mix it with peanut butter! I'm thinking of selling the rights of my scientific find to the National Association of Pudding Enthusiasts, as they are probably the only ones who will appreciate my genius.

Though on a second thought, doesn't everything taste better with a spoon of peanut butter (excluding ketchup and horse radish)..? Does that make my discovery somewhat less impressive..?

Crap and double crap.

... I wonder how pudding would taste mixed with ketchup and horse radish.

I should probably try it.

Anyway.. umm... I don't really remember what I was talking about, so I think I might just shut up now.

Good day.

Happy New Year!

Well.

It is only 2:19 PM of January 1st, and I have accidentally spent at least 2/3 of my new year so far pretending (quite successfully) to be a rabid grizzly bear with my not-so-normal friends... Are such things common? I'm not sure really; all I know is that I'm blessed to be gifted with a group of pals who are as mature and talented at animal impressions as I am. That is really all a girl could ask for, after all.

Anyway, all realistic grizzly bear impressions aside, I am thrilled so far with the New Year! The sun is shining... the birds are singing... I have only stepped on my deaf dog, Taffy, once so far... The year is off to an excellent start. I am really very excited for what 2011 is sure to hold. I have a lot of realistic hopes and ambitions for the next 12 months, all of which I am sure will be brought into completion in a year's time... I plan to learn how to eat fire, for starters. I am also kind of hoping to master my ability of controlling the weather with my mind, and I'd like to train myself to live forever without food or sleep. I will start working on all of these new hobbies immediately.

By the end of this year, I plan to be a sort of fire-breathing superhuman with an uncanny ability to forecast the weather. These are my resolutions, and I'm sticking to them. I'm feeling very optimistic. After all, even if all else fails, I have a very convincing grizzly bear impression that I'm sure could earn me a decent living in the circus.

2011 is bound to be chop-full of adventure...

Long Car Rides with the Family....

I have accidentally embarked on a voyage with a group of mad people that call themselves my family. We have barely packed up our bags and left my lovely Aunt’s house in Spokane (where we stayed for the holidays!) and already our car ride has been chop full of good times and family fun. What with my parents bickering for half an hour about the location of the freeway, the nationality of the nearby gas station’s owner, and everything else under the sun, our drive thus far has been jolly! Our international student is texting her boyfriend (as always) in the next seat, and I am just sitting here, playing the role of the perfect (and talented and good-looking) daughter, as is my duty. It is a demanding job, but I suppose somebody has to do it....

We are currently whizzing along the snowy countryside, my mom unconscious as always in the front and my dad zigzagging across lanes (without signaling, I might add) like he is crowned King of the Highway. Unfortunately, he is actually not, but when I pointed this out to him ever-so-politely, he only grunted and started lecturing me (as he so loves to do) about how he is wise and old and bearded and can do whatever he so desires. That’s what he likes to think.... I, however, believe he is secretly practicing his impersonation of a raving drunk to fulfill his lost childhood dreams of becoming a stunt driver. I suppose he can do what he pleases, though, as long as he doesn’t accidentally drive us off a cliff with all his fun and games.

Anyway, my dad has just turned around and suggested that I drive for awhile. I have told him in my politest voice that what he asks is impossible, as I have been paralyzed from scarlet fever since youth, but he is very mean and unsympathetic and is just rolling his eyes at me in exasperation. Honestly, some people can be so rude. We still have a good four hours of driving ahead of us, though, so odds are he will get his way sooner or later...

That is all I have to say for now. Driving long distances with the family is just so exciting, that I hardly know how to contain myself. If something monumental happens, I will surely post something new.

Cheers,

Brianna

The Night Crowd

Today is one of those days where I feel like I've been eaten by a bear and then spit back up in a dazed and delirious sort of haze, with nothing but a headache and about a million teeth marks to show for it.

It's kind of gross. I am just sitting here at 5:03PM in a Starbucks (where else?), puzzling about why I am having my morning coffee in the dark, and also why it is already dark at 5:03PM, and why everyone sitting here looks so haggard and drained of life, and a lot of other totally relevant questions that I won't get into for the sake of avoiding a long(er) run-on sentence than the 6-line one I have unwittingly just stumbled upon. Anyway (back to what I was saying), I have accidentally slept through the entire day due to a gingerbread party gone mad, and I am now just emerging from my cave of festive, Christmas slumber to greet the day! Unfortunately, it has now dawned on me that the day is already over, and I am stuck out here at Starbucks in the gloomy grey evening with all the vampires and other dwellers of the night that I usually forget about in my upbeat mornings.

There is certainly a different vibe here from my usual 8:30AM crowd. Everyone is wearing black and looking particularly surly and upset... No one is talking... The music is all slow and moody... A couple of werewolves have transfigured in the corner and are howling at the moon... and here I am sitting in a half-dazed sort of manner wondering why it is nighttime and how I have gotten here and if I will be eaten by wolves when I try to walk back to my car... It is a different world than the one you encounter when you actually wake before nightfall.

Anyway, I am feeling a little bit out of place here without my black trench coat or haggard under-eye circles or desire to suck human blood, so I think I am going to end this blog post now and sneak off to my car before I am abducted by creatures of the night. Today (or... um.. tonight, actually...) has been an excellent reminder as to why I generally rise with the sun like the go-getter and cheery optimist that I am. The nighttime vibe here is a tad discouraging.

Good grief. I am going to dash on home now. If I never write again, it is probably because I have been eaten by bats.

Ohh no...

Well, we have truly done it.

This is the first year my mom and I have ever been entrusted to go to the Christmas tree farm by ourselves, and we have accidentally brought home a tree with severe scoliosis of the trunk. Apparently, we were not ready for the grave responsibility of tree-choosing... We have unwittingly selected one that shares a striking resemblance to the Hunch Back of Notre Dame -- hunched over in a withered sort of way that only someone who has spent their life stalking gypsies from a clock tower can be.

My dad just put it up last night, and my mom and I stood by as he hoisted the tree into place, very excited to prove ourselves as tree-picking champs. The tree was secured upright, the netting around it was cut and the branches pulled down, but as we stood back to admire our handiwork, suddenly the room became very uncomfortable, as we all shifted about uneasily....

The darn thing was practically sideways.

My dad turned silently to stare at me and my mom, his eyebrows raised so high that if he wasn't bald (hahahahaha... I joke), I'm sure they would have disappeared into his hair.

My mom and I grappled desperately for excuses:

"It didn't look sideways at the farm... Maybe our house is just slanted..."

"If you squint, it kind of looks like a sea snake!"

"We were just trying to be charitable. We bought the gimpy tree to voice our support of scoliosis patients everywhere!"

"Yeah... We thought it would be nice to show our concern for the arthritic of our nation..."

... Unfortunately, my dad was not reassured. He just stared at us, then back at the haggard, hunched over little tree, then back again at us, all the while furrowing his eyebrows in a disbelieving sort of way and opening and closing his mouth like a fish (who has also just seen a shockingly ugly christmas tree and doesn't know how to react). Finally, he seemed to get ahold of himself, and after a few minutes he walked off mumbling about how women should never be trusted to pick out decent trees or some nonsense like that...

In our gravest defense, I do think the tree looked a bit less sideways at the tree farm. Or perhaps it was just surrounded by even uglier trees, so when we brought it out to examine, we didn't notice.... Either way though, my mother and I have shamefully failed, and I can say with great certainty that we will NEVER be entrusted with such an important task again.

To make matters worse, my dad is out with our Christmas tree right now, power tool in hand, drilling holes into our sad and pathetic, little tree to try to make it look less bent... He is still mumbling (very rudely, I might add) about my and my mother's ignominious shortcomings with all things Christmas-tree related. I will sneak coal into his stocking this year, I swear. Anyway, if he thinks any number of new branches is going to hide the fact that our tree is a crippled hunchback, he is quite mistaken.

Deformed spine or not, our tree will stand proud, a monument for arthritic patients and sicklings everywhere.

Ho hum, it's really not that bad... Especially if you squint your eyes and tilt your head a bit.... Who says Christmas trees are supposed to be straight, anyway?

Just Another Awkward Story to Add to the Collection....

Hahahaha and also HAH.

I just had one of those really awkward and embarrassing moments today that awakened me (if by some strange means I had forgotten) to how nerdy and pathetic my life truly is.

Which is very nerdy AND pathetic.... Just to be clear.

Anyway, I was just out and about, innocently driving my car and acting like the totally normal person that I am when this whole ordeal took place... I can wholeheartedly assure you that I was neither disco dancing nor practicing the robot as I listened to my music alone, and I also wasn't trying to count the number of double chins I can make myself have (4!) in my rear view mirror. I am far too sophisticated and suave for shenanigans like that, so obviously, I was completely focused on my driving, not doing anything that could potentially embarrass me.

And that is why what happened next was completely uncalled for. As I pulled up to the stoplight, minding my own business (and definitely NOT flailing around a mad fool or pretending to be a robot with 4 chins), I casually glanced over to the car next to me...

And they were all staring. The whole lot of them. At ME.

And that is when I remembered that I am actually not suave OR sophisticated, and I was, as a matter of fact, acting like a robot..... a robot with 4 chins and a fervent passion for disco dancing. Is that so wrong?!? A girl should not have to worry about what she does in the privacy of her own car. I should be able to practice my Robot in peace, gosh darn it. But apparently the rest of the world doesn't see things that way.

Anyway, as soon as I noticed that my robot impression and mad dancing had an audience of about 6, I instantly stopped flailing and gripped my steering wheel and stared with all my might at the red light until it changed, trying to regain myself and pick up my shattered pieces of pride and dignity.

Sometimes I think I should really just stop walking into these embarrassing situations.... Unfortunately, my freakish nature is often too hard to control, and several minutes after the Red-Light Incident, I was back in my own little world, singing improvised show tunes to help pass the time...

It's moments like these that desperately make me wish I had tinted windows.

Sorry for Writing... I Couldn't Stop Myself

Hi.

I know I'm not supposed to be writing (because of my whole official leave of absence and all), but I've gotten tired of pretending to study and now need something else to do.

So here I am!

Anyway... Below I have listed 5 reasons why I should probably drop out of college.

1. I am sitting here blogging right now instead of working on my finals: the mark of someone who is destined to fail at just about EVERYTHING.

2. I have the attention span of a hamster.

3. Last time I checked, hamsters are not allowed to enroll in Universities.

4. Due to the fact that I am very talented and charming, I could probably make a generous living entering (and winning) beauty pageants instead of wasting my time getting an education.

5. I just had to fix the word "pageants" in number 4 with Spellcheck, because I didn't know how to spell it, an obvious sign that I am not intelligent enough for college.

----

Well, there you have it. In all honesty, I find it a bit unfair that my Professors expect so much from a human/hamster/LOSER hybrid like myself. I should be spending my time doing proper things like running in my exercise ball and eating sunflower seeds. It is very insensitive of them to ask otherwise.

I'm Taking a Vacation.

Well, finals are drawing near, and with this horrific fact in light, I have decided to take an official leave of absence from the blogging world. I am indeed fighting a losing battle in the Society of all Things School-Related, so with this in mind, I am casting off my duties for the next few weeks, as I have other very painful and dull matters to attend to.

I plan to be like one of those pregnant women who takes an official leave from her office job to rear her young, only instead of birthing a child, I will spend the next few weeks mercilessly flogging my brain with a spiked whip, as I attempt to force information into my already jammed cranium. It is a sad little life that I live, but I suppose somebody has to do it. Anyway, with that said and done, I would also like to offer an official apology for my truly abysmal blogging habits these last few weeks. Of course I would like to spend all of my time writing to my dearest friends on the internet, but unfortunately, I have had very important matters to attend to. What with being a gold medal Olympian, an astronaut, and an affectionate owner of 23,000 dogs, I have found myself a tad on the busy side.

What I mean to say is that I'm feeling like a vegetarian who has inadvertently wandered into a slaughter house: very OVERWHELMED (and also a bit nauseous). Now don't ask me why a respectable vegetarian would be traipsing around in the food-processing district, or why the factory doesn't seem to have any security guards on the job, but I think that this realistic comparison applies directly to my life.

For I am a little vegetarian surrounded by skinned cow carcasses....

Only in this situation, I am a vegetarian who also likes to eat meat, and there actually aren't skinned cow carcasses, because that would be gross.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I will be back and writing again as soon as my tormented last few weeks of school have concluded, but for now, I am afraid I must bid you all farewell. I am off to the darkened caves of hopelessness and despondency to attack my studies...

Goodbye, my friends. Stay strong.

Remember to eat your vegetables and shower on a daily basis.

I hope that none of you have unexpectedly died before my return.

Cheers,

Brianna.

A Very Cardboardy Thanksgiving.

Well, after a day of nagging and pestering, I have finally gotten my dad to hand over the cardboard box that his new TV set came in, thus providing me with hours and hours of entertainment! So many joyous possibilities await me with this newfound treasure... And let me tell you, my Thanksgiving this year has been AWESOME.

While the rest of my family sat out in the living room like fools today, huddled around our new big screen and watching football in a stupefied daze, I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself in my room, cutting cardboard like the fun-loving person that I am and having a blast! If I do say so myself (and I do), the only thing greater than a huge new TV, is the huge new CARDBOARD BOX that it comes in. It's beautiful really: nice and sleek, double-layered C-flute.... the stuff dreams are made of.

I have spent the majority of my day being exceptionally grateful for all things corrugated and made of board, and with the sheerly gargantuan size of this box, I should be set with all of my arts and crafts materials for just about the rest of my life.

Anyway, here is a lovely little cardboard collage that I made today that is now hanging on my wall. It is made entirely of cardboard, glue, and love.

So there you have it.

I can bet almost $10,000 that nobody else is putting their new TV boxes to such practical use. While billions of perfectly lovely boxes are being ousted to the curb, alone and dejected, the Ailie family's will hang proudly (in bits and pieces) on my wall forever.

I am feeling oh so resourceful today.

Celebrating the Holidays... with TV!

Well Seattle is currently buried under a solid 3 inches of SHEER JOY, and the Ailie family (particularly my father) has decided to celebrate the season by sneaking a brand new big screen television into the house! While most people are hiding out in their homes or making snowmen, my heroic father is braving the elements for the sake of a precious TV and a dream that he can watch football in HD come Thanksgiving. Never mind that the roads are solid ice, and cars are sliding around like a bunch of really subpar ice skaters who haven't yet learned how to stop without crashing; my father, brave but also kind of stupid, has eschewed safety with a firm hand, trudging his way to Best Buy to get his hands on a fresh, new TV set for the holidays. Forget family bonding or any antiquated notion of togetherness; we will be starting off our Thanksgiving with a heaping helping of HD TV!

My mom and I have been suspicious of my dad's sneaky intention for days now. You see, when my dad is planning on wasting money, he generally gets a guilty, squirmy sort of look about him, and it is only a matter of time before he sneaks something ridiculous into the house. He's done it before with other strange finds: an assortment of junky garage sale furniture, every record player in the city of Seattle, a collection of decorative lawn ducks, our pet birds... My dad has a compulsive addiction for buying things that no amount of therapy can ever hope to mend. Now don't get me wrong, he can go for a while without making any hasty investments, but sooner or later he will get that obsessive gleam in his eye, his instincts will kick in, and after a sneaky escape from the house under the pretense of "running errands," another superfluous item will be added to our overflowing collection. Yesterday in particular, the signs became evident, and my mother and I, already suspicious of my dad's behavior, began to fear the worst. My dad has been talking wistfully about a new television for a few weeks now, but yesterday, his need to take action became apparent. He spent the morning skulking around the house and staring with dissatisfaction at our dated TV screen, and by afternoon, he was looking for an excuse to take the car out alone.

Here is a word for word recount of a conversation my father and I had, shortly before his stealthy escape to Best Buy:

Dad: Well.... I'm going... out...

Me: Oh, where?

Dad: ..... just to um... run some.... errands..

Me: Oh, can I come?

Dad: NOOO!!!!!!! I mean... er.... no.

Me: Are you having an affair?

Dad: um. yes.

... and then he ran out the door, and that was the last I saw of him.

Several hours later, my dad came skulking back home with his tail in between his legs and a guilty (yet satisfied) look on his face. A few minutes later, I was ushered into the living room where I was confronted with an exuberantly happy father and a very LARGE addition to our household. It is massive and obscenely bulky and everything a man could ever dream of, and my dad is over the moon with contentment! I am actually sitting next to him right now; he is staring at the TV with a determined sort of gaze, reading manuals and connecting wires and occasionally furrowing his brow with the accompanying deep sigh....

Oh wait. I don't need to describe him; I'll just show you!! Here he is now -- all flustered and fiddling about with his 4 remote controls in a state of confusion... yeah, he's having the time of his life.

Lovely, isn't he?

Anyway, I am sure the TV will be assembled in no time, and my dad will spend the next three months or so sitting in front of his first love in a state of blissful serenity. But after a while, I can assure you the excitement will where off, the guilty look will rekindle in his eye, and I will wake up one morning to find a new vacuum cleaner or a few shelves of ceramic cats or maybe a life-size statue of Thomas Jefferson in the kitchen. The world will never know... But until that day comes, I suppose I am content with the really burly and MANLY television that my dad has chosen to bring home.

It is Thanksgiving after all, and what better way to celebrate than by zoning out your loved ones and shoveling turkey into your mouth in front of a big new TV?

... Homework... what?

Well, it's Sunday evening right now, and I really should be doing my homework at the moment, but greater things have captured my attention. I believe it's very important to keep my priorities straight after all, and let's face it: some things are just so much more important than school.

This Thursday for instance, I shirked my responsibilities to instead fashion myself a large cardboard horcrux costume to wear to the Harry Potter premier. I may have gone a little overboard with the size, so that I couldn't properly fit through doorways or sit down, and I may have looked like a fool after my basilisk fang broke off, but all in all it was a raging success! And then of course I couldn't do my homework on Friday, because once again my priorities kicked in, and I decided to instead spend the entire day catching up on my beauty sleep. I can think of at least 7 hibernating grizzly bears (off the top of my head) that would gladly back me up on the importance of this endeavor, so I really feel no remorse or guilt over the issue. And then on Saturday, I couldn't do anything school-related, of course, because I was busy recovering from my previous day of slumber by drinking absurd amounts of coffee and watching french films... you know, things that really should be placed before an education.

And now today has come, and I find myself sitting here once again, thinking vaguely of getting out my drawing assignment but really having much more pressing matters to attend to. And what are those greater issues, you want to know...? I will give you a hint. It may have something to do with the fact that on this grand and monumental day, Seattle enjoyed its first SNOW of the year.

YES. SNOW.

It may have been just a few flakes, and sure, it all melted before it actually hit the ground, but WHO CARES REALLY?!??? I am like an overly excited first grader with severe ADD when it comes to all things snow-related. I may as well get my snow suit and sled out now, because I am confident that Seattle will soon be buried under at least 16 feet of white fluffy mounds. So obviously I shouldn't be spending time on frivolous things like homework, when there are greater snow preparations that call! Snow dancing rituals and a human sacrifice to the gods of weather (to ensure the perfect snow conditions) are of course the first activity on my list. Next, I need to get a head start on training my dog-sledding team; Taffy has heart disease, so I'll need to strengthen her endurance if I expect her to head up the pack for our annual 26 mile sledding extravaganza. And then of course, I'll need to start planning out the blueprints of my igloo mansion and sharpening my arctic seal-hunting harpoon (just in case this flurry of snow also brings a wave of arctic seals from the North... seal hunting is my favorite winter hobby, you know). So as you can see, I have A LOT to do in preparation for the oncoming blizzard, and homework has really lost its value.

Speaking of which, I have gotten up from my chair to peer out the window at least 4 times since I started writing this blog post.

Also speaking of which, I have donned my dad's ceremonial Christmas sweater in celebration of the occasion. When I asked to borrow it, all he said was "sure, but don't wear it out of the house, because you'll look like a complete fool in that old man sweater."

I trust he was joking, because I've already worn it out of the house TWICE.

On that happy note, I think it is time to conclude this blog post, as I am far too giddy and excited to carry a complete thought any more. I just checked Google weather, and there is a 78% chance of humidity, so I am fully expecting a heaping helping of SNOW tonight!

My life is so bright and cheery.

Unless of course, it doesn't snow... in which case I might have to drown myself in a bathtub of my own tears. We'll hope it doesn't come to that.

I Would Rather Be Sleeping.

Well shoot.

I just realized I haven't written anything in 9 days, so now I'm feeling kind of guilty and wishing that my life was more exciting, so I would have more remarkable things to talk about. Unfortunately, this is not the case. I'm just lying here alone in bed on a Friday night with a really large stack of saltines and some rice pudding I found in the fridge, larding my life away into oblivion.... I should probably be out with the rest of the world right now like a normal 19 year old girl, but alas I really just enjoy lying around by myself like a hermit crab in my spare time and doing positively NOTHING. These are the simpler joys of life.

I even tried to go to bed early tonight, but unfortunately my guilty conscience would not let me sleep, and my mind was too plagued by the shame of not writing in over a week to actually rest. So anyway, I'm just lying in bed right now in a sense of utter defeat, very angry and also upset that I'm not sleeping but instead writing this stupid blog post, because otherwise I will be driven to insanity. So there.

Okay, well I've actually just been sitting here for a good 15 minutes or so, and I really can't think of anything at all to tell the world. In addition, I've just finished my saltines and now have nothing else to distract me from the fact that I'd rather be sleeping right now, so I'm getting very bitter and upset, and I really just want to throw my computer away or kill one of my pets birds or purposefully put something recyclable in the trash can to lessen my frustration.

Anyway... I think that this (angry and embittered) blog post should be enough to appease my guilt and make me feel better about not writing, so I am going to go sleep now. Curse my ridiculously overactive conscience. On the bright side, I will probably never turn out to be a serial killer or anything like that, because people who feel too guilty to sleep for not updating their blogs for 9 days usually don't go around killing people in their spare time. Just a reassuring thought for the world, in case you were ever suspicious.

okay, well GOOD NIGHT now my little friends........ I will write again when I'm in a better mood and don't feel like smashing my computer against the wall. Um. Yeah.

More Wonderous Adventures.. from my Sickbed!

So I have had a great deal of free time over the past few days -- free time which I have spent wisely by entertaining myself from my sickbed with an array of internet surveys! I even pasted all of the surveys into a Word document, so today I can go back and look at all of my feverish and only partly-coherent answers from yesterday. Apparently, I took a 15 question quiz to find out whether I'm pregnant or not (I'm not) and a very tedious one directed to women with military spouses (I don't actually think most of the questions applied to me... the whole thing seemed a bit exclusive, to be honest). I also took one that was supposed to teach me Chinese in 3 minutes (yes, I am now 100% fluent!) and another one that told me what I smell like to Edward Cullen (which is apparently not so great). Anyway, below I have posted one that I took about my lacrosse team. Surprisingly enough, this was actually a very popular survey... I wasn't aware until now that there were so many die-hard lacrosse fans out there.....

Anyway, please enjoy! (Keep in mind that I was quite sick and dazed when I took this)

What's your team name?

Snow Panthers

What's your team's current record?

27-0

Are you an offender or a defender?

I like to play both actually. I offensively defend... like a champ.

What's your favorite position to play?

Usually the one that does the most running and stuff. Also the one that

gets to hit the most balls at people.

Do you like your coach?

He is very portly and has a bristled mustache. So yes, I would say so.

Why do you like lacrosse?

Lacrosse is my passion. My only other hobby besides lacrosse is bending

spoons with my mind, but I'm not very good at that.

How long have you been playing?

since the winter of '86

Who introduced you to lacrosse?

My friend Ron. We used to play together back when we were in the Navy

How many sticks do you have?

umm... I actually wasn't aware that lacrosse involved sticks.. but, uh,

yes... yes, I have sticks..

Do you own a lot of lacrosse clothing?

YES. IT'S ALL I WEAR ALL THE TIME.

How often do you find yourself paying?

Well that's actually kind of a difficult question.... I have about 14 hours

of lacrosse training a week, but then I also spend my weekends teaching

lacrosse to underprivileged street youth, and of course I head up the

National Lacrosse Fan Club for national fans of lacrosse, and sometimes

I play lacrosse by myself on my personal lacrosse field.

Is it your favorite sport?

Well DUHHH.

Do you find yourself adding a 'Y' to the end of all your teammates' names?

Um... not really.... I do sometimes add an 'X' though. I think it's catchy

Does your team have a chant?

YES. I can't really write it out though, because it can only be properly

expressed in song.

What's your favorite thing about lacrosse?

Winning. Obviously.

Do you have siblings who play?

I prefer to think of my team as my true siblings. We're connected by

something deeper than blood: our singular love of all things remotely

related to lacrosse!

What's your number?

I am always #1 and always have been all the time

Are you good at playing catch?

... does lacrosse involve catch?

How far can you throw?

About 8

What's the one thing you don't like about lacrosse?

I don't like it when my teammates are eaten by sea serpents

during the game.

Do you want to go professional?

No. I want to be a pet detective.

Are you going to be a lacrosse mom/dad?

Yes! My children will begin their training the moment they emerge from

the womb. I will raise them just the way my parents raised me: I will feed

them in exchange for 4 hours of lacrosse practice a day! They will love

lacrosse. They will love it, or they will die of malnutrition. The choice is

theirs.

Have you recruited any of your friends to your team?

I hope that EVERYONE who reads this will join my team!

Any other comments on lacrosse?

ohh, just that I LOOVE IT SO MUCH AND LACROSSE JUST

SO AWESOME

**********

And there you have it: my thoughts (in a sick and delirious daze) on

lacrosse. I hope everyone enjoyed this.

I think I am going to go sleep now.

Sick. That's all.

I have decided to take advantage of the fact that I am deathly ill and lying in a bed of heaping sickness and disease to write this friendly blog post! Yesterday, I was just beginning to show the signs of sickness: my throat was starting to hurt, I was intolerably cold, and one of my feet fell off. This morning, however, I woke up at 4AM to a great deal of coughing and spluttering and other pathetic symptoms that alerted me to the fact that I am indeed ILL.

So here I am, lying in bed like an elderly person who is also lying in bed, and thinking wistfully about my short life here on earth as I slowly await the clutches of death to take hold.... On the bright side, I have spent my morning eating LARGE sums of peanut butter toast (my favorite thing, besides coffee and crepes and cookies and about 10 other foods) and watching odd nordic folk tale movies that I found on Netflix. YEAH.

In addition, I have just taken enough painkiller to effectively sedate a killer whale, and I am forcing myself to get up out of bed to limp to my one class today like the true winner that I am. I like to compare myself to those heroic war veterans, hardened by their brutal experiences in enemy labor camps, who are still brave enough to face each morning with as much determination as an Olympian god.... I'm not entirely sure what that comparison has to do with me, but it sounds impressive, and I also am very impressive, so I think it works.

In light of this, I will persevere. I am bravely eschewing illness with a firm hand and am going to school to LEARN AND STUFF. Lying in bed is for weaklings. Pain killer is the stuff of champions.

Just a Friendly Update!

It has been about a week now since my last post, and I am sure that many of you are concerned by my absence. Indeed, there have been rumors circulating the web about my untimely demise, stories that I have been in the hospital recovering from a bear attack, and of course the occasional tale that I have finally taken the leap and dedicated myself to an entirely Amish life, free from the sinful materialism of the internet.

Swarms of concerned friends and fans have been bombarding my house these last few days, dropping off get-well-soon cards or assorted casseroles for my grieving family. I have even had a few ministers drop by, hoping to free me from my archaic Amish lifestyle -- but, unfortunately, all of these well-wishers are deceived. Although my blogging absence has undoubtedly caused many devote fans to assume the worst and enter into a period of grieving, I am writing this post to assure you all that I am not actually dead.

I am, however, Amish.

... Or wait... just kidding. What I meant to say is that I have contracted leprosy and have no hands, so typing is difficult. Also, I have a very large sum of homework.

This weekend for instance, I am supposed to be making a lamp. Yes, A LAMP. It is due tomorrow and I have many good hours of work ahead of me, and I may very well die tonight from a severe panic attack. It is so very possible. I am actually supposed to be cutting and glueing and lamping ( <-- it's a verb!) as we speak, but alas, here I am procrastinating away.... hmmmm mmmm... hmmmm.....

OK I WILL GO DO MY HOMEWORK NOW.

I deeply apologize for this very pathetic and boring blog post. I feel a lot like a performing circus alligator who has come down with an ear infection and is now putting on sub-par shows and disappointing thousands of paying customers. Not in the sense that I am an alligator or have an ear infection, but just that I am really writing about nothing right now and have probably bored many of my readers to within an inch of death.

Speaking of which, I really do feel guilty that everyone here had to read this post while probably getting nothing of value out of it, so below I have posted a link to a website I just found about the symptoms and causes of hyperthyroidism. It is my dearest hope that someone out there is reading this who unknowingly has hyperthyroidism and by clicking on this link, my post today will save their lives. That is what I hope.

http://www.endocrineweb.com/conditions/hyperthyroidism/hyperthyroidism-overactivity-thyroid-gland-0

Well, I am off to the world of lamps now... Peace be with you, friends.