Day 137 of College: Resolutions and Recaps

Today...


Happy New Years Eve and all that. Apparently the word will end in 2012. Hm. It would save me the trouble of having to pick a stupid major...


Moving on. 


This whole week has been filled with pain and general oddness. Let's do a day by day playback, shall we? 


On Monday...I chase my family's new kittens with a remote control car. I drive the car off the edge of the stairs. The car breaks. My little brothers both cry. 


On Tuesday...I stay in bed. ALL DAY. Seriously. I don't get up once. I give my siblings quarters to fetch me refreshments. 


On Wednesday...Not much happens. 


On Thursday...I walk in the dark, trip over the carcass of the remote control car I killed on Monday and drop my laptop. My laptop costed me pretty darn close to a thousand dollars. So, in the .8 seconds before that sucker hits the ground, I have a choice to make. My laptop or my foot. I chose my laptop. 


On Friday...My big toe is almost definitely broken. It is twice the size of a normal toe. Also, it's purple. It looks like a poisoned cocktail weenie. But my computer is fine!


On Saturday (also known as today)...I go shoe-shopping. With a BROKEN TOE. In summation, I now believe that shoe-shopping with a broken toe is a punishment for the most terrible people in Hell. You know, the murderers and the rapists. And the people who cut me off in the checkout line at Wal-Mart. 


According to Google Chrome, Wal-Mart is totally legitimate word. Really, Google Chrome? Wal-Mart is a word and Zealand isn't? Oh, you wacky internet server you. 


Anyway. It's been a delight blogging for all of you this year,  my loyal followers. It's been almost like having friends!


...And what's my New Year's resolution, you ask? Why to be more positive, of course! 


Hahahahahaha. No. 


Danielle OUT. (See you all in 2012!) 

Day 127 of College: Children of the Corn-mas

Today...

I'm in my mom's classroom. There are kindergarteners here. THEY'RE ALL STARING AT ME. It's incredibly creepy. The minute that I forget how much I dislike children, I look around and I'm like "Oh yeah, this is why I dislike children. THEY'RE FREAKING CREEPY."

Anyway.

I love being on break. I literally have to do nothing. Other than go to my little brother's christmas-holiday-pagent-thing. Hence the whole being in my mom's classroom thing. These kids keep staring at me...mehhhh...

No offense to people who, like, have kids and are fond of them. I'm sure your kids aren't creepy.

Moving on, the other day my little brother, who's eight years old, asked me why I didn't have a boyfriend. I informed him that it was because no boys like me. He didn't agree. He told me that the reason I didn't have a boyfriend was that I was too depressing.

"You have a depressing blog!" He insisted. "Be a little less depressing!"

...keep in mind that this kid is eight years old. When your eight-year-old brother tells you that the reason you're (still) alone is because you're too depressing, then you might be doing something wrong. I might be doing something wrong.

Whatever. I don't even care...I'm going to go listen to "I Can't Make You Love Me" and cry. It's what all the coolest happy non-depressing kids do.

Oh, wait. THE KIDS ARE STILL STARING AT ME. Scratch that plan. Let's keep blogging.

Christmas is only, what, four days away? Let my family's fights begin! As I have previously stated, my family fights like crazy during every single holiday. EVERY.SINGLE.ONE.

And with Christmas being, like, the king of the holidays, the fights on Christmas are always something to behold. Someone will end up with a broken leg and/or spirit. Probably both.

Well, I'm sure you'll be hearing from me soon if not later. Merry Christmas-Eve-Eve-Eve-Eve.

Danielle OUT.

Day 116 of College: Avoidance is the Best Policy

Today...


I'm supposed to be writing a paper. About Muncie. So, instead I wrote/recorded a blog. 


You're welcome. 


No, but seriously. This semester needs to be over. I don't care that my class semester is all kinds of terrible next semester. 


Seriously, though. 


I have two math classes and two anthropology classes. 


I don't trust subjects with that many syllables in the title. Also, I just plain hate math. Math is terrible. 


Also, I recorded me talking while I was waiting for my laundry to dry....

So. There's that. 


It was terrible to cut...seriously. So many funny things happened that you didn't get to hear. Poor you. I get to hear my funny self talk all the time. 


Oh, shameless self promotion for a minute. If you haven't already, like Danielle's Depressing Blogs on Facebook. There's a box somewhere up by the top of the page....go on...go like it...you know you want to. 


Or you could like me on Google Plus....


HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!


I almost got through that with a straight face....like anyone uses Google Plus. 


Seriously Google Plus, it's nice that you tried. But, let it go. Nobody wants you. 


Now go outside and sleep in the rain. And Facebook will stand in the doorway and laugh at you. Seriously, you laugh Facebook. You've earned it. 


Danielle Out. 

Day 113 of College: Here's to an (Un)Happy Finals Week and an Ironic New Year

Today...


Finals week is nearly here, folks. You know what that means. A serious increase in the number of blogs I will be posting because I am avoiding the responsibility of studying for said finals. 


I hate finals. 


I hate school. 


I hate work in general. 


But, in other news, it being almost finals weeks also means that it is almost the end of the first semester! Woo! I'll be done with 1/8th of my college education!


...And I'm still single. We gotta step it up a few notches college. (I dunno...maybe it's my own fault for choosing to go to a college with really good arts, theatre, teaching and journalism programs. Those are subjects dominated by girls and gay boys. And don't get me wrong, I love gay boys. But...gay boys rarely love me back.) 


Anyway. 


Did I tell everyone that I applied to and got into Purdue last semester? I didn't? Well, I did. 


Mostly it was because I was stressed, hated my major, and had no friends and was depressed because I had no friends. Also, because of high female/gay boy population here. But...I digress. That happened. I thought I should inform the general population that, despite popular belief, I AM smart enough to get into a college that isn't Ball State. 


I'm not transferring because I can't afford it and because I've gotten used to my lonely little routines, but...still. 


I got in. To Purdue. Granted, it was their liberal arts program (yes, they have one). So...maybe it isn't that big of an achievement. Huh. 


Whatever. It's a point of pride at this point. 


What the hell does liberal arts even mean? Seriously...does anyone know? 


So, happy week-and-a-half until the end of first semester. Also, 19 days to Christmas. So, happy Christmas. And, jolly Hanukkah and merry Kwanza and neutral non-celebratory day to the Jehova's witnesses. And whatever to all you atheists out there. 


 Also, merry irony to the hipsters. I hope you get all the flannel shirts, pabst blue ribbon, and terrible sweaters that you deserve. 


...I hate you, hipsters. 


So much. 


So, so much. 


Danielle Out. 


PS. Seriously, hipsters. SO MUCH. 

Day 109 of College: I'm Faster than Usual

Today...


I would like to clear something up. I'm not dying, nor am I already dead. Okay. 


We're good. 


So, moving on. For those unlucky souls who are not my Facebook/real-life friends, you haven't heard about my lemonade-flavored escapades of this past week, have you?


Well, they're fun. And they involve hot boys and the hospital and me being generally uncomfortable. So...to start....


The hot boy. And the lemonade. It's a video...which I shall now embed...

So...there's that. 

But, moving on from my lemonade-soaked moccasins (they're still sticky, I swear) I also went to the hospital. AT ONE IN THE FREAKING MORNING. 

And let me just say, I think Web MD should be outlawed. Because Web MD freaked me the hell out. Cause when I put in my symptoms, Web MD told me I was having a freaking stroke. I'm an 18-year-old girl, Web MD. 18-year-old girls do not often have strokes. So, I went to the hospital at one in the freaking morning and got a CAT scan. Guess what? NO STROKE, WEB MD. 

Migrane-style-headache, check. No feeling in my left side, also check. THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT I AM HAVING A STROKE, WEB MD. 

So, that's where the Danielle-is-dead/dying rumors came in. Just to clear it up. 

Danielle Out. 

PS. I'm fine. Again, to clear it up. People have been calling my phone at very odd hours to make sure I'm not in a morgue. It's very sweet, yes, but it is also awful for my already fragile and tiny sleep schedule. 

Day 104 of College: The Artist Formerly Known as Cedric Diggory

Today...


We've reached the 100s, people. I am no longer writing out what day of college it is. If that upsets you...tough. I have no idea why it would upset you. If it does...then you are the one with the problem, sir. 


Moving on from that oh-so-important formatting decision, my Thanksgiving break is over. Sadness. Now I'm back in Funcie Muncie with all of its suckiness and homework. Boo. My life is so hard. I did no homework over break. Literally none. AND I HAD A LOT THAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO. So now I have to write a speech about overpopulation, cut a stupid video sequence and do a bunch of other things that I forgot about before tomorrow. 


Anyhow. 


I still hate Twilight. Also, the way that vampire books have basically killed-off the rest of the young-adult books. I'm a young adult. I like books. But the only books available for me to read are about stupid sparkly vampires. I swear, they're on the TV now too. Did you know that there's a show called the Vampire Diaries? Seriously, it's like a real thing. And don't even get me started on True Blood...


People get paid to act like sexy vampires. People bother to watch TV shows about sexy vampires. Yeah, cause nothing is sexier than dead people. What is wrong with our society? At what point did necrophilia become an acceptable, like, thing? 


Why am I italicizing so many things?


It's beyond me at this point. 


I'm tired. There was a Friends marathon last night. Talk about quality TV! Jennifer Aniston may be the queen of bad romantic comedies at this point and, according to most tabloids, destined to die sad and alone. But, back then! She was awesome! Her show was awesome! 


I miss the nineties. Back when Friends was on and vampires were creepy creatures of night and not sexy. Or sparkly. Or the artist formerly known as Cedric Diggory. 


The 2010's suck. We have no Friends. We have no non-sexy, non-brooding vampires. Also, Jennifer Aniston is lonely. 


How sad. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Ninety-Nine of College: Fat Turkeys

Today...


Well, first let's just be happy that it's the 99th day of college! Ninety-nine days of collegey-ness and I have yet to drop out! Woohoo! Go me!!


But, yeah, I'm on break right now. Happy almost-Thanksgiving and all that. It's Thanksgiving-Eve-Eve. 


So, today was my little brother's Thanksgiving feast in his preschool class. Cause my parents are teachers, they couldn't go. Because I was on break, apparently that meant I had to go. Lots of preschoolers and their parents. A recipe for FUN. 


That is if by fun you mean lots of forty-year-olds giving you disapproving looks and making tsk-ing noises. HE'S NOT MY KID, FORTY-YEAR-OLDS. DESPITE POPULAR BELIEF, HE IS NOT MY CHILD. 


Also, when they weren't berating me for being a single, underaged teen mom, they were making sure that everybody else there knew that their kid's handprint turkey was the BEST handprint turkey. 


In my opinion, all the handprint turkeys looked exactly the same. Except for the one really fat kid's turkey. His turkey looked less like a turkey and more like a blobby brown whale. 


I'm going to hell. 


Anyway, I'm pumped for Thanksgiving. A day dedicated purely to FOOD. Talk about a holiday in my wheelhouse. 


My family always fights on holidays. Seriously. Christmas, birthdays, Valentine's, ahem, Singles Awareness Day, Easter, Arbor Day. ALL HOLIDAYS.  At first, it's all amusing because it doesn't, like, effect me. But, bit by bit, it will get more annoying. And more insulting. And then somebody talks about me or my turtle in a demeaning fashion. After that, SOMEBODY'S GOING DOWN. 


So, yeah. Thanksgiving and whatnot. 


Danielle OUT. 


PS. I'm THANKFUL for you, blog-readers!!!

Day Ninety-Two of College: Dead Mongooses

Today...
 (Well, actually more like last night)


I DIDN'T SLEEP. 


I'm serious. You know how most people say "oh, I didn't get any sleep last night" and really they went to bed at like two in the morning and actually got at least six hours of sleep?


Yeah, well, that's not what I mean. I mean that I literally did not sleep last night. AT ALL. 


It wasn't for, like, a particular reason. Well, I was freaking out a little about the whole major-thing...but I've been freaking out about that for like, months now. So...I dunno. I just didn't sleep. 


Maybe I'm turning into a vampire. 


God...that new vampire movie comes out this week, doesn't it? I still don't understand the attraction behind those stupid Twilight books/movies. 


I'm not hating without reason, bro. I read the books, all of 'em. And I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND. I'm not gonna be one of those snobby people who're all like, 
                    "Twilight is an affront to literature and human decency." 
I mean, I won't say it out loud, at least, or post it repeatedly in online twilight forums. 


But, seriously, there has to be something that I'm missing. 


          Cause, in my eyes (and spolier alert here), this is the basic plot: 


1. There is a girl named Bella. Bella is a personality-less pale girl with exactly ONE facial expression. 


2. There are some people called Cullens. The Cullens are all sparkly and good-looking (and not gay...or so they claim). One of them is named Edward. He decides that he likes Bella, despite her having the personality and facial expression of a dead mongoose. He likes Bella A LOT. 


3. Stalking and special-hugs ensue. 


4. There are some werewolves and some angst. 


5. At some point in there, Bella and Edward get married. I dunno. Apparently you can marry undead things now. Poor Edward, having to be married to an undead mongoose. No wonder he talks about how bad she smells so often. 


6. Also, undead things can have babies now. Cause that happens. 


7. A werewolf (with really great abs) falls madly in love with a baby. AND NO ONE SEEMS TO THINK ITS EVEN KINDA WEIRD AND/OR CREEPY.


8. That's pretty much the sum of it. 


                   (spoilers over!) 




So...that's what I got from all like 7 thousand+ words of the Twilight series. Also, the word murmur. Someone murmured to Stephanie Myer too much as a child. Seriously. The word is on like, EVERY PAGE. 




Wow....I brought pop culture up into this blog. I don't usually do that. Unless it's Cosmo. Cosmo is always in the subtext of my blogs. ALWAYS. 


Now I'm probably gonna have to deal with hate-comments about how I shouldn't be hating on Twilight. I dunno. I was the one who read all four books. Granted, I did it mostly to understand my classmates in Junior High. 


Junior High was the worst. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Eight-Six of College: Aiming for the Middle

Today...


Scratch that...THIS ENTIRE WEEK....


The freaking Ball State football team is getting on my last freaking nerve. 


Yeah, I know that you're all so big and bad cause you play football at Ball State (way to aim for the middle, bro) and you're pulling a C- average in your "Social Psychology" major (again with the middle)...


BUT YOU ALL NEED TO STOP YELLING SHIT AT ME. 


(sorry for the curse word...it seemed warranted.) 


Sure, the first time it was sort of flattering. And again the second time. But, the third time...it seemed a bit much, boys. Yes, I know you need to prove your absolute masculinity and football-and-Red Bull-fueled awesomeness...but, seriously? You can't let me go get my cereal-and-beef-jerky-dinner (it was a bad week) in peace?


And yes, I know that I look super-fine in my sweatshirt and jeggings, but there's no reason to shout nonsense at me. And, yes, I do happen to be a dime piece...but seriously. Stop yelling at me. 


Anyway. That's all going on with the football team this week. Also, they aren't that good at actually playing football. Probably cause they're all to busy YELLING SHIT AT ME TO PRACTICE. 


Moving on...


The major question is torturing me again. The major question was the reason that I went and got cereal and beef jerky for dinner. I'm tossing around the idea of Professional Writing...but that just seems kinda dumb. I dunno. Advertising is also on the table. I can advertise stuff. Watch...


Me: "Here's some stuff. Spend money on it." 
Customer: "No. Why would I do that?"
Me: "Seriously. Just buy the stuff already." 
Customer: "No. Leave me alone, crazy person."
Me: "I am a crazy person. And I know where you live. So BUY THIS STUFF."
Customer: "But..."
Me: "Buy it or I will kill your whole family."


So, yeah. I think I could make it the cut-throat world of advertising. Plus, I'm good at street-fighting. So...if that comes up...


Shut up, I don't have to make sense. I learned that from listening to football players. They shout nonsense words all the time and they all seem to have scholarships. Perhaps if I drink copious amounts of Red Bull and shout nonsense words at passing girls I'll get a scholarship too!


Actually, I doubt that will happen. What will happen is I'll get addicted to Red Bull and attempt to fight someone I don't even know. 


Not that this has ever happened before....


Danielle Out. 

Day Eighty-Two of College: My Good Ideas are NEVER GOOD IDEAS

Today...


You know how sometimes you have an idea? And you think that idea would be an awesome thing to do despite having no one else's assistance or guidance or opinion? You don't? Well, yeah, I suppose normal people don't do things like that. I do things like that. OFTEN. 


That's how my hair ended up green before junior prom. 


And now, that's why my hair looks like a rotten banana. (I'm not kidding. IT DOES.) 


So, I thought it would be a good idea last night to just, you now, give myself a few highlights. I had a highlight-y kit and I'm a reasonably intelligent individual so I was like, yeah, I can TOTALLY handle this myself. That was a lie. I lied at myself there.  
I put in the high-light-y stuff, but (somehow) it ended up on the majority of my head. So, I was like, whatever, this will work. I waited the appropriated amount of time and then headed off to the shower. 


I will not describe what I was feeling when I saw my splotchy-headed-self in the mirror. Mostly because it is obscene and insulting to both bananas and mirrors. No, but seriously, I have no idea how I did what I did. So, because it isn't safe to dye over it yet or else all my hair will fall out, I've been wearing hats around Ball State. Unfortunately, I only hats I own are variously colored ski caps. So, I look like a burglar. And because I tuck all my hair into the hat, I look like a combo burglar-slash-cancer-patient. 


All in all, it hasn't been exactly a banner weekend. In addition to my hair dying woes, I also did my laundry. Now, I hate laundry. I won't do my laundry for like a month and then I'll do it all in one night. So, I was doing that and just chilling in the laundry room, jamming out to some music and whatever, when a passionately-um-engaged couple of students wandered into the room. 


They didn't really notice me until I made a sound that was kind of like "ugh-ah-omigod-gross!" I am, at my core, still about twelve years old. 


Obviously, they noticed me after my little outburst and then bolted. So...that was fun. No, not really. Actually, it was really, really awkward. I mean I understand teenage hormones as much as the next girl, but...the laundry room? Really?


When did that become okay?


Oh wait...I have no room to talk. Cause I'm single. Still. 


College has utterly failed my getting-a-boyfriend goals. 


How can boys resist my rotten-banana-hair and ski caps? It's beyond me, really. 


Whatever. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Seventy-Six of College: Highlighters, IHOP and Stuff

Today...


I'm tired. Like, so, so, so, so tired. Cause, I went to a party last night, dressed as a German barmaid no less. Granted, it was a Halloween party. I don't go to normal parties dressed as a German barmaid. Then again, I don't go to many normal parties. Or any, really. 


Yep. 


So, I really should go take a shower. I'm dressed in my clothes from yesterday and I have highlighter all over me. Highlighter glows like crazy in blacklights. And there were blacklights last night. So, naturally, I colored all over myself with highlighter. It made sense at the time. Also, I slept on the floor. So...a shower miiight be in order. Maybe. 


I went to IHOP this morning. I love IHOP. I love IHOP more than it's healthy for someone to love IHOP. I love IHOP like a harbor seal loves crack cocaine. That's how much I love IHOP. But, apparently, there aren't many other interesting things to do in Muncie besides going to IHOP because its always frickin crowded in that joint. Seriously. My friend and I had to wait twenty minutes to get a table. Unacceptable, IHOP wait staff. Unacceptable. 


No, but seriously. There's a lot of highlighter on me. I should go take care of that. 


Hm. I also have homework to do today. Gah. I hate homework. Also, I'm really tired. Did I mention that? I just spelled 'that' wrong...SHUT UP GOOGLE CHROME!! I WAS NOT TRYING TO SPELL THREE. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FREAKING DUMB ALL THE TIME, GOOGLE CHROME?


Maybe I should download Firefox. That'd show Google Chrome who's boss. 


I'm arguing with an internet server. That shows you about where I'm at right now. 


Okie dokie. And yes, Google-Freaking-Evil-Chrome corrected that too. But, yeah, I'm going to go take a shower. There's highlighter on me.


Danielle Out. 

Day Sixty-Nine of College: This Weekend was a Sugar/Sims High

Today...


I did pretty much nothing. I'm not kidding. The only reason that I left my dorm was to get food. And then I came back to my dorm to eat that food. And that was about how I spent my weekend.


 Yes, of course I had homework. No, I didn't finish any of it. Homework doesn't really feel like homework when you live at the place where you go to school. Just sayin. It's weird. I can't make myself do homework unless I'm in the library. So, for me it's less homework and more librarywork. Again. Just sayin. 


One of the few things that I did do this weekend was find my long-lost copy of the Sims 3. I played a lot of the Sims 3. Is it weird to make Sims of people you don't like and them trap them in the pool without a ladder? It is? SHUT UP YOU! YOU'RE THE SOCIOPATH, YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE THE SOCIOPATH! 


Yup. 


Playing the Sims is seriously not at all entertaining and yet...I spent a good eleven or twelve hours playing it this weekend. Not kidding. I had Sims who were born and died under my lengthy twelve-hour-regin. Seriously. AND IT WASN'T EVEN FUN. 


...i'm not crazy. Well, maybe just a tad bit...but it's the lovable kind of crazy, not the burn down your houses kind of crazy. 


Also, I have a new career path in mind. I want to be the host of a show on the Food Network. I'm serious. I know that I can't cook, like, anything, but I spent a lot of my Sim-playing-time also watching the Food Network.  The Food Network is weirdly addictive. I watched five episodes of Sweet Genius. IN A ROW. 


You can't pretend that sort of behavior is normal. 


Then again, I was really hungry and I didn't want to have to get up to go get food. Or change the channel. Also, I was kind of enjoying Sweet Genius. When I eventually did go to get food, the only things I wanted were very sugary cereals, caramel apple flavored lollipops and anything else with a high sugar content. 


I'm on a two-day sugar high. 


I would go do my homework...but I can't concentrate on anything for longer than, like...


You get the idea. 


I need to get a new harmonica, wouldn't you agree?


Danielle Out. 

Day Sixty-Five of College: Justice...Kinda my Middle Name. Kinda.

Today...


I skipped Journalism. AGAIN. But this time it wasn't even on purpose. See, my sister and me went car shopping today. So...that was a TON of fun. Except for the part where the car she bought broke down a few blocks from the dealership and the part where she refused to purchase me a retired police car. And yes, the whole lemon-car thing sucks for her...


BUT AN EX-POLICE CAR?


I would name it THE ENFORCER and we would have the best of times. Seriously. It even has the, like, floodlight on it so I could show up to parties and scare freshmen. The things that The Enforcer and I could do...


I would buy a police uniform and follow people I didn't like around all day. 
I'd arrest people for jaywalking. 
I'd make my siblings ride in the "prisoner containment unit."
I'd speed and never get caught. 
I'd read people their rights before I'd let them ride with me. 
I'd hit other cars, just for fun. 
If anyone asked for a ride, I'd tell 'em that The Enforcer only drives to one place...downtown. 
I'd call people who rode with me punks. 
I'd hit passersby repeatedly with a nightstick. 
I'd commit a string of thefts from various jewelry store and never get caught.
I'd arrest pizza drivers. Just cause. 
I'd buy a gun and shoot people for jaywalking.
I'd commender a fleet of other police-type cars and create for a for-hire police service. 
I would effectively rule all of central Indiana. 


I realize these ideas got steadily more outlandish and altogether insane. Still...a police car. HOW COOL IS THAT????


I am determined that someday, somehow, through theft or some other illegal form of car-getting, I will have a police car! And I will name that police car The Enforcer and we will ENFORCE...er. Justice. It sounds kind of like my middle name. Which is Lenae. Sort of like justice.


But, not really. 


There are other fun and altogether depressing things that I did today...but my excitement over The Enforcer has kind of eclipsed everything else. 


Twilight ruined the word eclipse for me. Also, most of seventh through ninth grade. 


I don't wanna talk about it. 


I'd love to stay and talk, but I have things to do. Like figure out how to obtain a police car. And Enforce things. Until I get a police car, I'm naming my bike The Enforcer. 


Evildoers beware. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Fifty-Eight of College: Much Ado About Animals

Today...


I skipped journalism class. Mostly because I just hate journalism. But also because I needed to write papers for my Music History class. And yes, you read that right. Papers. As in the plural. One paper wasn't good enough, no. I've got to write two. 


Speaking of two, that's what time I was up to in the morning last night (or is it morning? I can never be sure). Hardly an uncommon thing for a college student to be sleeping at unusual and unhealthy hour, I know. But, seriously, I'm wicked tired. And because I've got those Music History papers to finish, I assure you that I will be up at least that late tonight. 


Homework is the devil. I'm forty-three percent certain. 


Moving on to other things...my fish died today. It was depressing and awful and I cried over his lifeless little fishy corpse. And then I flushed him. It was all very sad. 


May you rest in peace Captain Morgan. 


I'm thinking that I should get a boa constrictor next. I could name him Winston and we would have the best of times together! But...boa constrictors are notoriously picky eaters. According to this website that I saw this one time, they only eat pine cones, extra virgin (like me!) olive oil, partially-frozen deer meat and small children. And while I have small children in no short supply...the rest would be difficult to obtain. 


Damn. All these plans for naught. 


Also, Pope John (who I recently found out is a girl turtle, not a boy turtle) would probably be jealous. He/She was already jealous or my fish...I suspect a poisoning plot perhaps (oh, allitteration!). But, no seriously, now that I've discovered that Pope John Paul is a Popess should I rename him/her? Should he/she now be Popess Jean Penelope?


Nah...that's idiotic. He/She should remain Pope John Paul. All the coolest girls have boy names anyway. Like...Charli (my sister) and DANielle (that's me). So...PJP he/she shall remain. 


I still feel weird about the whole thing. Seriously. It feels like my turtle got a sex-change. I failed as a mother. 


And that seems like a good place to stop. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Fifty-Four of College: Watch it. It's worth Ten Points.

Today...


I'm home. It's Homecoming Weekend at Ball State...so I came home. I thought it made sense. Very few others did. But I digress. Also, a wasp attacked my little brother today. And, don't get me wrong, I love my brother. He's one of my nine favorite people (my turtle's on that list...my fish is not). But, when that wasp dived for his face, I screamed and ran away. 


I actually shoved it back towards him at one point. 


I have the maternal instincts of a Wolf Spider. And they EAT THEIR YOUNG. 


So...there's that. 


Also, watch this...

So...I think that just about covers it. 

Also, I dyed my hair blue today. Not all of it...but a streak. I think that it's pretty fantabulous. Again, not many others share this opinion. 

Danielle Out. 

Day Forty-Nine of College: Rantings that Actually Border on Insanity

Today...was spent mainly in the library. Cause, who woulda thunk it...but college has ACTUAL WORK involved. At least to an extent. I had to do all this grammar nonsense for my journalism class. It was dumb. Journalism is dumb. Journalism is....well, I think the video portion of my blog puts it better.


Watch this....

So, as you can see, there is no lost love between my most un-favorite acquaintance and me (journalism being the stupid-evil-dumb acquaintance). 


Gah...I'm conflicted. I don't like being conflicted. I like a simple life...food, water, a nice wheel to exercise in...That's it! I'll just be a hamster. 


Problem solved. 


Except...I'm not a big fan of wood chips. 


Damn. 


Problem un-solved. 


I have more holes in my problem-solving-logic than the Titanic had after it hit that iceberg....Oh, that movie just killed me (LET HIM ON THE STUPID PIECE OF FURNITURE, ROSE YOU STUPID FAT COW!!) Anyway. My irrationally angry inner-voice is out again. 


I swear I'm not crazy. 


It's just that journalism is an evil wood nymph that crawls inside your brain and steals your hopes and dreams and uses them to buy crack cocaine. Then he sells crack cocaine to baby harbor seals. And, once they're all addicted...he uses them to form an army. An army of crack-fueled-harbor-seals. 


That got dark. 


I apologize. 


Maybe I should major in writing children's stories. 


Danielle Out

Day Forty-Three of College: The Narnia of Speeches

Today...


I discovered pawn shops! Pawn shops are basically my new most favorite thing (also, turkey bacon). I discovered the wonder that is a pawn shop whilst parading about the wilds of Muncie. The wilds of Muncie are populated with a combination of homeless guys and guys who could beat me up. And homeless guys who could beat me up. 


So, yup. Pawn shops. Also, second-hand bookstores. Those places have the best books...and the worst. But mostly the worst. Cause, who gives away books? Books are awesome! Oh no...my inner nerd got out again. Things like this are the reason that I'm a lonely mess. 


Also, speeches. I have to give one. My topic is coffee. Because I was tired and wanted coffee while I was writing it. So...it's pretty legit. Coffee. Did you know that it can take the arabic coffee plant 5 years to mature? You didn't? Well, that's probably the reason you all have significant others. And I'm still single. Though...I would kill on Jeopardy. 


Anyway, I also have a video-blog available for your viewing pleasure where I beg for comments and go off on cosmo. So...

So, there's that. For the record, that video was close to twelve minutes long when I finished recording it. It included my shopping list, more of my thoughts on Brokeback Mountain and a four-minute-long explosive rant about cosmo. It's all pretty funny, I assure you, but a lot of it (particularly the cosmo bit) isn't family-blog-friendly. Also, it's twelve minutes long. Seemed a little bit ridiculous. 


So...hit me up in the comments. No, no. Don't do that. Also, punch me in the face if I ever use the phrase "hit me up" ever again. Seriously. Ever. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Thirty-Nine of College: Creepy-Weird-Hand-Flippers

Today...


I hate feet. Specifically, my feet. Well, that's not true. I hate all feet really. They're like creepy-weird-hand-flippers. But, back to my feet. My entire family has creepy-long finger-toes. Seriously. Most of my toes are longer than my pinky. I hate looking at them. Can you get toe-related plastic-surgery? I bet you can. People with freaky long noses can get normal noses. Why can't I get normal-length toes? 


Also, why can't I have naturally blue hair? Is that too much to ask? 


Stupid laws of nature. 


Also, I'm still single. Just throwin that out there.


I also hate doing laundry. Laundry sucks. I mean, college-laundry sucks worst of all. You have to lug all of your stuff down the hall and into the laundry room and then you realize that, of course, you forgot quarters and laundry soap. And then you go back to your room and realize that you have no quarters and no laundry soap. What are you supposed to do after that unpleasant realization? Drag your dirty laundry back to your room and shove it back into your closest? Beg random strangers for soap and quarters? Try to hot-wire the washer? Cry? 


Well, I've tried all of these things. None are all that effective. 


Also, who liked my video-blog? Huh? I did. Mostly cause I'm vain and like to hear the sound of my own voice. It's one of the reasons that I talk to myself so much. The other reason is that my beta fish is much less friendly than my turtle. And my turtle wasn't all that friendly. 


I miss him. 


Also, I'm supposed to be writing a speech right now. But...speeches are for chumps. Ha...I was never on speech team...speech team is for nerds... Moving on. I don't have a topic picked out. I thought about talking about how emerging media was changing the way that we get news...but researching that felt suspiciously like work. I never research stuff unless it sounds like fun. Or do anything unless it sounds like fun. 


Maybe I should take a look at my decision-making process. 


Nah. 


That'd be work. 


And I hate work. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Thirty-Seven of College: Crying and iMovie

Today...
I discovered iMovie!!!! (and cried a great deal for no apparent reason) Curious to know more? Watch the video below!

Yes, yes I know that the cuts are terrible...but I've only just discovered this lovely piece of technology! Give me some time...it'll be awesome. 


Danielle Out


P.S. I don't really want to be a phone sex operator. So...please don't call me. 

Day Thirty-Five of College: Tattoos and Gibberish

Today...


The math behind these blogs is getting rather difficult. You know, I have to figure out when I wrote the last one and then figure out what day it is today and then add on days so its accurate. Oh, the things I do for all seven or so of my loyal readers. (Then again, I write these more out of self-pity than anything else.)


Moving on. So far, college has prompted me to make one life-altering decision. I'm never, ever, ever, ever getting a tattoo. Seriously. Every trampy girl here has a tattoo. A lot of the non-trampy ones do to, but...the trampy ones are winning on that front. I swear, I have never seen more chinese characters or different languages inked on people's skin. It's like a freaking mutli-culti ink-fest up in here. If you speak that language, then it's one thing. Then it's sort of okay...because at least you know what it says. But, seriously, if I was a tattoo artist, I'd just write curse words on people. Or the word "fish" over and over and over again. And then I'd laugh about it. 


How do you says "You're a total idiot" in Chinese? Cause I think the girl sitting next to me has it written on her freaking arm. Oh, and how do you say "If you can read this, punch me in the face" in Hungarian because I swear to God, there is a girl in my Journalism class who has it inked all over her neck. 


It makes you wonder...do people in other countries have random English words all over their bodies? Can't you you just imagine the chinese guy in a circle with all of his friends, proudly displaying his new tattoo? 
      "D-O-U-C-H-E-B-A-G." Then he'd nod all cool-like. "Yeah, it means 'courage' in English." 
Sure it does, foreign boy. Sure it does. 


So, seriously, before you get a tattoo, something that will be on your skin FOR ALL OF TIME, please, check on Google Translator and make sure that it says what you think it says. Or, crazy idea here, but bear with me, maybe you could get a tattoo in a language you ACTUALLY KNOW. 


Unless it's a tattoo based on the Twilight book series. Then, you get it in whatever made-up language you want. Because maybe it will keep people from finding out YOU GOT A TWILIGHT TATTOO. I've seen them...they're real, I swear. You know the girl with Hungarian on her neck? Yeah, she's got "and so the lion fell in love with the lamb" inked up on her lower back. There's also a picture of a lion. And a picture of a lamb. In case the words alone weren't enough for us. 


Good Lord, some people are dumb. Seriously, how did you get into college? Oh, wait, I forgot. 


This is Ball State. 


Right. 


Now everything makes a lot more sense. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Twenty-Nine of College: Twitter is Dumb and so are Stairs

Today...


I still don't understand why Twitter is, like, a thing. And, aside from that, a big successful thing. It's just like a less-exciting Facebook. With birds. That tweet or something. I don't even know at this point. 


Moving on from things that are Tweet-related, I fell down the stairs today. And by 'fell down the stairs' I mean, I fell down two flights of stairs in the Music building. I think I broke my scapula. I'm lying. I have no clue what a scapula is. Anyway, a girl with a french horn saw me and giggled. What are you giggling at, french horn girl? You have no right to giggle. You play a horn. And to make it worse, that horn is French. 


Socialist. 


Anyway, I've started spending a rather unhealthy amount of time in the library. Seriously. And like half the time, I'm not even studying. I'm just lurking in the corner with a cup of coffee and my laptop, sneakily typing bad things about people. 


You should see my 'essay' about sorority math. Really, it's probably some of my best work. Equal parts mean, snarky and self-depreciating. Kind of like my personality. 


Anyway. 


My hardest class is Music History. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either. I keep accidentally failing things. Though, really, there aren't many other ways to fail. Unless you fail on purpose. And when you're paying skillets full of money to go to classes...purposeful failing is kind of an idiot move. 


Just saying. 


Danielle Out. 

Day Twenty-Seven of College: Being Depressing is a Special Skill

Today...


I hate Ball State's wireless internet. Seriously. It takes, like, three hours for three minutes of video to load. I've yelled at my computer nine times today. On the bright side, I've downloaded Google Chrome on my Mac. Let the hilarious misspelling mishaps ensue. 


Anyway...college. Contrary to popular belief, not all of it is spent partying. Saturday and Sunday and most of Friday...I will admit that not much gets done at those times. But, Monday through Thursday...there are classes. And they expect us to LEARN. Ugh. Learning. Learning is for people who got 1910s or lower on their SATs (ahem...not me). 


Today in English, a class that I despise with a great passion, we were instructed to craft a resume. I filled out the education, work experience and the extracurriculars with no problems. Psh...that resume was pretty awesome from my perspective. At least, it was until I reached the special skills portion. That was when I realized that I have NO SPECIAL SKILLS. I can't speak a different language (made up or otherwise). I can't do karate. I can't even ski. Or say no to a third helping of steak or pumpkin pie. NO SKILLS. NO SKILLS AT ALL.


Well, not unless you count my ability to say the pledge of allegiance in latin (in my deep and soothing radio voice nonetheless) or my talent of describing mundane events with an astonishing amount of wit and clarity. That and the fact that I am very, very good-looking. 


(I wonder if statements like that are the reason that I have no friends.... Nah, that can't be it. I'm awesome. Everybody else is just intimidated. Right...that's why I spent most of the day curled up in a corner listening to the song "I Can't Make You Love Me" on repeat and crying. That's totally why.)


But, anyway, nobody seems to take me and my special skills seriously. Would it help if I told you I can eat ten saltine crackers at one time without any water? No? It figures. All the useful skills that I have and no one takes me seriously. 


This is madness. 


Absolute madness. 


Can you say the pledge of allegiance in Latin? Can you even spell allegiance? (it's okay...I couldn't either. Google Chrome corrected it to many outlandish and impractical things. No time for that now.) Can you be very very good-looking? I didn't think so.


I have to go. "I Can't Make You Love Me" is starting again and I feel a fresh wave of tears coming on. Oh, the pains of being a teenage girl. 


Danielle Out.