Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Normal human woman Sandra Johnson, who recently gained about 20 pounds, is showing off her weight gain by wearing sweatpants for this amazing publication that deserves, like, a million gold stars. Congratulations to a terrific reporter for uncovering this story. Hint: It was me. You're welcome.
"Is she preparing for a role or something?" said all of the Internet commenters. "Why would a normal human person just gain weight like that? It makes me feel weird and confused and like maybe I should set myself on fire."
When asked about her secret to weight gain, Johnson said, "I just eat normal human food every day. Sometimes I exercise. Sometimes I don't." Then, she gave me kind of a weird look and got off the elevator even though we weren't at her floor yet.
Unsurprisingly, pop star and fitness enthusiast Madonna could not be reached for a response, but if she had, she probably would have said something like, "I don't understand what those words mean when you put them together like that. I'm frightened, and I want you to go away."
"Oh my god! It's like she recently had a baby, but didn't," said one local ringwraith, astounded at the very idea that a normal human woman would even go outside in that condition.
"Look at how her skin is on her arms like it belongs there or something?" said a very startled fashion designer.
Weight gain, which is a perfectly natural human response to stress, depression, lack of activity, and burritos, startles about 11 trillion people each year. Many resort to wearing sweatpants, T-shirts, jean shorts, or even bikinis because they just don't care and wish you would shut up about it.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Greetings and salutations, my fellow bibliophiles! I've decided recently that one thing my blog is missing is literary discussion. I mean, NOTHING spices up a blog or increases pageviews like reading a book and then sitting down to tell people about it at length against their will. So, I read a new book recently, and I wanted to tell you my thoughts on it. You might want to do yourself a favor and get right into a fresh pair of of literary pants because it's time to TALK ABOUT LITERATURE.
My Super Serious Official Book Review of The Casual Vacancy
I have to admit that I was a bit skeptical, picking up J.K. Rowling’s book at my local library. Would it live up to Rowling’s usual standards? Would I be sucked in and end up completely unable to put it down? (Admittedly, I was not able to put down Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows because I was attempting to fix a ceramic unicorn immediately beforehand and, in fact, glued my hands to the book.) How would it end? And, most importantly, what was going to happen to Harry Potter in it? Would he live? Would he die? Would he finally destroy Lord Voldemort? Potterheads with inquiring minds want to know!
But I decided to cast aside my worries and checked Harry Potter and the Casual Vacancy out from the library. “NO SPOILERS!” I chuckled to Glynis, the librarian who was on duty at the time, holding my fingers in my ears in what must have been an extremely comical manner. “Don’t tell me what happens to Harry!”
But old Glynis, she’s a stoic old soul. She just pointed at the keyboard and grunted, “Pin number,” in a way that said to me that she was not much of a Harry Potter fan, but if she were, she would not say a word.
I took the book back to my apartment and sat down immediately to read. And I am happy to report that I later finished it and was excited to share my thoughts in the review I am now writing.
I’m sorry to say that Harry Potter and the Casual Vacancy did not have enough wizardry in it. I had looked forward to more adventures with Harry and his friends and was disappointed that Harry seemed to not be mentioned at all. In place of the usual spell casting, fleeing from Death Eaters, and exciting Quidditch matches, I found a lot of somber reflection over the death of a Muggle named Barry Fairbrother. For several chapters I assumed that he was another victim of Lord Voldemort’s scheming. But, in actuality, he was just a man who died of natural causes. I can only assume that Rowling was attempting an elaborate metaphor for the fragility of human life in the face of the evil that is Lord Voldemort.
I read a few more chapters, eagerly awaiting Harry’s return to Hogwarts. But where I expected to find Platform 9 and ¾, Professor Flitwick, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, instead I found Terri, the heroin addict. And she could not cast spells to save her life. I read and read and read, and at every opportunity Terri had to pick up a wand and cry, “Expelliarmus!” she chose to pick up a spoon and a lighter instead. In place of a riveting lesson in Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, there was an emaciated woman tying off in a dingy living room.
I decided to read on, despite my disappointment. Unfortunately, favorite characters like Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom, and Nymphadora Tonks made nary an appearance. The book finally ended with the deaths of two people, and not a single other character rushed to a nearby portrait chamber or Mirror of Erised in an attempt to see the ill-fated characters one last time. I can only assume that Harry Potter never made an appearance because he spent the bulk of the book hiding from Lord Voldemort under his invisibility cloak.
All in all, I was very disappointed in Harry Potter and the Casual Vacancy for the reasons stated above. I can only hope that book 9 will yield more Peeves, the Poltergeist pulling pranks on unsuspecting Hogwarts students, and less awkward teenage fingering.
I suppose I should finally go back and attempt once again to pry apart the final 75 pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and read them. Maybe that will help shed some light on this literary travesty.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
|Shhh! He's royalty. Don't tell him he looks like poop.|
So, I'm back on a very strict eating regimen that has been modified to now exclude oregano, thyme, sage, spinach, and broccoli. If I could, I would be in a bean bag chair of depressing-ness right now, with my face in a giant bowl of kale. But I have way too much stuff to do. Anyway, one thing I can eat is any number of nut butters, so as you can imagine, I am writing this from my gold plated writing chamber, licking freshly ground peanut butter from a diamond encrusted nut butter wand.
Do you want to hear a story about nut butter?
Okay. You don't have to twist my arm.
All Hail the Nut Butter King
Far, far away and long, long ago there was an entire kingdom ruled by a very benevolent, handsome, and extremely heart-healthy king. He was simply filled with antioxidants, and that was because the king was an oozing pile of delicious almond butter.
Now, you might be asking yourself right now, "How does an oozing pile of anything rule a whole kingdom?" Well, need I remind you of King Henry VIII? He ruled just fine, thankyouverymuch. Also, King Nut Butter had a scepter, and as you know, all you need is a scepter to rule a large group of individuals. A scepter and a lot of pizzazz.
Unfortunately, in the 30th year of King Nut Butter's rule, a thing happened. And that thing was totally stupid. And the thing involved fashion.
"Oh my god, Helen," said a pile of cashew butter who worked in the Nut Butter Kingdom's nail salon. "Liiiiiike, do you think I could get away with owning a scepter?"
"TIFFANY, YES," replied Helen, a pile of peanut butter. "You SO have a scepter face and body. I am just totally jealous that I did not think of getting a scepter first."
It was then that the two trendiest nut butters in the kingdom totally went scepter shopping. And it was because of that shopping trip that everything changed. Helen and Tiffany oozed all around town with their new scepters to show them off.
Now, right now you might be asking, "Why does a kingdom made up of nut butters need a kingdom nail salon?" And to that I say, "Shhhhhh....shhhhhhh.....just breathe in the chloroform scented perfume on this rag."
Slowly, the other people in the kingdom began to take notice. A local fashion editor, a guy who was unemployed but had a lot of ideas, the kingdom gynecologist. They started to buy scepters too. Soon, EVERYONE in the kingdom had a scepter.
And if you'll remember, the only thing you need to rule a kingdom is a scepter and a lot of pizzazz.
"Hey! I just realized I have a scepter and a ton of pizzazz!" said a big, oozing pile of Brazil nut butter, the grossest kind.
"Me too!" said a gigantic plop of honey roasted peanut butter.
"I'm the king now!" said the Brazil nut butter.
"So am I!" said the peanut butter.
Suddenly, everyone in the nut butter kingdom had a claim to the throne, and they all started to exhibit kingly behavior.
"No, Ferguson!" said some Nutella named Fritz. "I'll have my cake at 6, not 5:55. And once you've served that, I'll need someone to bathe me."
"I can't!" replied Ferguson, waving around a ruby-encrusted scepter. "I recently acquired pizzazz from the local pizzazz dealer, so I'm king now. You'll have to bathe yourself."
Slowly, all the nut butters stopped doing their regular jobs and started being kings. And this was all quite confusing for the actual king, who suddenly had no one to clean up his almond buttery ooze trails or listen to him complain about the heat in the sauna wing of the castle or the coldness of the castle's refrigerator wing. It made him very grumpy.
"What am I going to do?" inquired the nut butter king to nobody. Gazing out of the castle window, he could see nut butter all over town ordering other nut butters to build them castles. And because everyone was a king and nobody was a builder, not a single thing was getting done.
So, the king thought and thought and thought.
His royal figure-outer was gone, so it was all he could do.
And then he remembered that he had something that was better than a scepter. And better than a lot of pizzazz.
The nut butter king remembered that he had the power to execute anyone and everyone who defied him. And because the nut butter executioner also thought he was a king, and the king himself didn't feel like doing any executions, he made a few phone calls instead.
You will be happy to know that the nut butter king took back his kingdom. Because the phone calls he made were to the neighboring spoon and Bethany's face kingdoms. Soon, the entire nut butter kingdom was totally wiped out. Except for the almond butter king, who eventually emerged from the safety of his underground war chamber. (Another thing that the fake kings didn't have.)
That's correct. I saved the day by eating all the nut butter. It was awesome.
I'm too busy eating this peanut butter to tie up the loose ends. You do it.
Friday, July 19, 2013
|Get on my face, Earthlings.|
Hey, hot people. And by "hot" I'm not referring to you being physically attractive. I'm actually referencing how warm it is outside and how you're probably lying on your couch right now looking a lot like a big old pile of warm bread dough with sweat glands. Or in an office chair looking a lot like a big old pile of warm bread dough with sweat glands that somebody propped up in an office chair.
On a day like today, a lot of blog people would post a story about snow to make you feel cooler. They would talk about ice cubes and winter and Mr. Freeze terrorizing Gotham City. BUT NOT ME! No, sir! I wrote you story to remind you that you could always be hotter right now. It's called...
A Scientifically Inaccurate Account of Some People Vacationing on the Sun
It was July on Earth, but that didn't matter because the people in this story were not on Earth at the time. They were on the face of the sun.
Because in the year 2033, the hard core people from Earth who were totally bored with base jumping and sticking lit firecrackers up their butts and filming it for YouTube were like, "Oh my god, what else can we possibly do to be more hard core and awesome???" And that was when a guy was like, "I have an idea! Let's go to space and do super cool stuff up there." So, it became a thing to build personal rockets and go to space. And when that became not quite hard core enough, some other guy suggested, "Hey, hard core people! Earth is boring! Who wants to go to the sun with me and totally vacation there?" And, like, six super hard core people were like, "YEAH, BRO!"
So, they packed up their coolers and headed out to the surface of the sun. And because I want to build some suspense early on in the story, I will add, "AND THEY WERE MAYBE NEVER SEEN OR HEARD FROM AGAIN." Just to let you know that this vacation to the sun quite possibly did not have a happy ending.
Now, I don't know much about science, but I can imagine that a vacation on the sun would be pretty warm. Even warmer than a vacation in the Sahara Desert back on Earth. I bet that if you took your favorite plastic folding chair with you, it would probably melt in under an hour or so, giving you only a short period of time to really enjoy yourself and kick back. Your beer would definitely get warm for sure, and that's no fun.
The guys who went to the sun for a vacation didn't know much about science either, but they were determined, and as you know, determination is far more powerful than science. If you don't believe me, just ask this guy who totally agrees with me. I don't know much about facial expressions, but his definitely indicates that he thinks I'm the smartest person ever.
|She is seriously the super smartest, you guys.|
Anyhoo, so these guys were determined to vacation on the surface of the sun, so they got there and nothing bad happened along the way.
The surface of the sun was actually pretty cool. And when I say "cool," I am not referring to the temperature of the sun's surface, but the fact that it was pretty neato, if you are into that type of thing.
The guys walked around a bit. They looked at stuff. They took pictures and put them up on the 2033 version of Instagram for their friends back on Earth to admire. Everyone on Earth was totally impressed and indicated their impressed feelings by using the Like button on the 2033 version of Facebook a lot. And maybe at some point the sun visitors' cameras melted. Again, I don't know about melting temperatures on the surface of the sun, but I would imagine that camera melting would happen eventually.
"Whoa, my camera melted, man," said one of the space travelers.
"Mine too, man!" said another.
"This is getting kinda lame, you guys. Let's go back to Earth," said a third traveler. "There aren't even any luxury hotels up here!"
But when they went over to their rocket, it was all melted too, just like the cameras.
"Did you guys bring any extra rockets or rocket-building materials?" said one of the now-stranded sun visitors.
None of them had. It was vacation after all. Who brings anything to that but swimwear and a camera? Earth was at least two Earth days travel away, or so I would assume in my limited knowledge of science, so it's not like they could just call someone for a ride.
Now, brace yourself because things are about to get even sweatier.
What do you do when you're stranded on the surface of the sun, you're out of water, your camera has melted, and you're just plain bored with things? Well, you do what these guys did, which was to hug it out. And so they did. And then they died after deciding that sun vacations were not a cool idea. Either literally or figuratively.
The moral of the story is to try to curb your hard core-ness. Just hang out on Earth, stay hydrated, use a high SPF sunblock, and sleep in your bathtub if you don't have air conditioning. And learn science before it's too late.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
|Someone gave me a sundress. They said it was for irony.|
Hello, humans and non-humans that can read.
Until yesterday, I was still having some pretty severe anxiety stuff, so I took a bit of a break from things. I know. I am so lame, like on taking a bite of a pickle and finding out it's a sweet pickle levels. Sorry about that. But last night I got SUPER MOTIVATED and updated my OKCupid profile. Have a look. Make sure you either click on the profile shots to blow them up or just invent a shrinking ray to make yourself small enough to read them legibly.
|Right after dinner, things get a bit hectic around here.|
|Garlic breath is no bueno.|
|I know. It's like I'm not even aging!|
|Don't worry. No photographers were harmed in the shooting of this photo.|
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
|High Anxiety is kind of an underrated Mel Brooks movie. MADELINE KAHN, people.|
If you ask me right now, "What's troubling you?" I can honestly say in a loud and clear voice, "ANXIETY."
I had an anxiety attack about just writing that sentence. It's been bad this week.
Often, when I mention to someone that I have anxiety, they respond with things like, "Oh! Everyone has anxiety! I'm anxious all the time." But it's not the same thing. Really, it's not. I'll try to help you understand with a tale of anxiety that comes from my true life. It's called...
The Time I Pulled Out a Huge Majority of My Hair Because of Anxiety
Looking back on my life, I think I can safely say that fifth grade was when my anxiety started becoming significant. Probably because I was growing boobs, and that was when things started getting weird. If you have boobs, you know what I'm talking about. You think things like, "Is this as big as they're going to get?" "Are they always going to look this stupid and floppy?" "Can people tell I'm wearing a bra?" and "Can people tell I'm NOT wearing a bra (because I totally forgot to put one on today)?" Furthermore, you think things like, "Are we going to have to run the mile in P.E.?" and "Am I the stupidest ever at math?" Basically, it's like Are You There, God? The Cat Ate My Gymsuit ALL THE TIME. It's a very anxious period in the life of a young woman. (I cannot speak for the experiences of boys, but I can imagine they are quite similar, but with two fewer boobs.)
Some people handle this type of stress well. Some people don't. For me personally, it was this stress that led me to fixating on my hair follicles and pores, like, all the time. There is no explanation for this except that I was obsessed with imperfections in my skin. I believed that if my pores were gross, I was gross. Therefore, over the course of two weeks in fifth grade, if I found an imperfection, I pulled all of the hairs around it in some attempt to "fix it." I would do this without even realizing I was doing it. I would just be sitting and thinking about things and twisting a hair around my finger. Later, I would stand up, and there would be a gigantic pile of hair next to me.
It's called trichotillomania, if you want to get all scientific about it.
As you probably guessed, if you spend two weeks pulling out your hair, someone will eventually notice. And my mom did and although I don't remember her actual reaction, we can pretend that she screamed and screamed and probably fainted. Both sides of my head were totally bald in patches the size of my hands. So, if you put your hands on both sides of your head right over your ears right now, you'll know the significance of my baldness. When my mom noticed, I finally realized how much damage I had actually done. And that was when I probably screamed and screamed and fainted as well.
Now, at this point, you might be wondering a few things. The first is why didn't I stop pulling my hair? Well, because it was a compulsion over which I had no control. It's like if you put a cookie on a table in front of yourself and then try not to eat it. You fixate and fixate and then finally give in, telling yourself it's just a cookie and doesn't matter. Pulling my hair gave me some kind of similarly gross satisfaction. Like I was being bad. I thought, "I really shouldn't eat this cookie/pull my hair, but I'm going to anyway."
The other thing you might be wondering is 2) Why am I telling you all of this when most of the things I say on this site are total nonsense? Well, sometimes I go through periods where I have trouble writing because of my anxiety. I can't concentrate. I fixate on something terrible or the possibility of something terrible happening and will not allow myself to move past it. And I thought maybe I should write about my anxiety during one of my anxious periods. Because what better time to talk about it? Maybe I'll even find ways to make it funny.
Nowadays, rather than fixating on my hair follicles, when my anxiety is bad, I'll check my email 300 times in a row. I'll obsess over something I've done or something I need to do to the point where I will shut down and not do anything at all for several hours. I'll pick at my fingernails or my skin. Or I'll have an anxiety attack. You can tell I'm having one because I start cracking my knuckles or shaking my hands in front of me like I'm fanning myself very quickly. I'll grind my teeth. Or I'll hyperventilate, although I haven't done that in forever. Basically, I turn into Rain Man. Luckily for you, you probably won't ever catch me having an anxiety attack because my anxiety is better when I'm around other people. That's not the case for everyone.
So, where were we? Ah, yes. My fifth grade baldness. My hair grew back, and I was able to stop pulling it. Although, to this day, the compulsion is still there. I went through a phase for a while in my 20s where I would pluck my eyebrows obsessively, every single day, to the point where I developed a permanent bald patch. That is why I have a HANDS OFF policy on doing my own eyebrows and have them threaded every month instead. I eventually went to therapy, and my therapist made me talk about things from my childhood. Then, she said, "Well, you have anxiety," and I was like, "What's that?" And she told me. And it all kind of got better. I finally had a name for my problem.
Now, you know everything about me. I've literally said it all. This is the point of the personal sharing where we make out or whatever, but it's cool if you don't want to.