Take a Wok

Sup people. 

I'm incredibly bored. This is my last day in this class and it is still SO BORING. I was literally playing Pokemon on my 3DS until it died like a minute ago. The only reason I'm writing this blog because my primary way of procrastination has died. 

Wow. 

I'm almost done with this semester and I have put so little effort into literally everything. It's so sad. It's also sad that I am actually doing okay in like all of my classes. My lowest grade is a B. College is such a waste of time. 

I am so ready to be done with this whole college nonsense, people. Do I have plans after college? No. Do I care about that right now? I absolutely do not. Will I probably care about that in six months when I graduate? Most likely, yes, Yes I will.

But right now. Whatevs. What. Evs.

Other people annoy me. I'm in class right now and I'm just sitting here. Hating everyone. Look at them...paying attention and taking notes. Psh. Casuals. Playing life on easy difficulty I see, with your notes and your fancy shoes. 

Some of us like to do things the hard way, thank you very much. Some of us like to make things needlessly complicated. This isn't going well. I should give this metaphor up. This is not the hill I want to die on. 

Nothing is making sense right now. 

It might have to do with the, like, five hours of sleep that I got last night. I have a new game. I was busy playing it. It was Important.

But, no. Five hours of sleep. it's a thing that's happening. It's a think that's been happening every night for the last like two weeks since the game came out. Also, since I turned 11 and discovered the wonder of wasting time in the internet. 

I am not good at this whole "human" thing.

I either sleep way too much or too little.

I never do my homework or think about my future plans.

And today for breakfast, I had a candy cane and a juicebox.

Uuuuuuurrrrgggggghhhhhh,

I guess we should just be glad that I had breakfast, honestly. 

But, yeah. This is not news. We all know I make bad life choices. That is an accepted fact. Me and my bad choices, getting here five minutes late with starbucks. But the starbucks is actually apple juice and a candy cane because that is apparently how I roll.

Thanksgiving happened. Thanksgiving was good. I cooked stir fry in a wok because apparently I can cook anything so long as it is tangentially related to stir fry.

Ah, my job. Six more months at my job and I never have to be grudgingly polite to a member of a Ball State sports team ever again. 

Anyway. 

Finals week is coming up. I am not actually all the worried. The less preparation I put into something, the better it seems to go so...yeah. Studying isn't something that I am planning on doing, I'm not about that life.

This blog isn't making much sense or addressing anything of importance. If anything, it was kind of legitimately depressing, due to my lack of direction and healthy life choices.

Mkay. Class is over. I'm going to go find food, despite the fact that I left my wallet at home. 

This is going to be an adventure. 

The One True Elder Fish

This class, guys,

This claaaaaaasssss.

It is so boring. I've been in here for thirteen weeks. Three hours a week for thirteen weeks...that's like a lot of hours. 39 hours, according to the Google search I did just now.

I mean, I've only been in class for like 30 of those hours, but still. I've been in here longer than a full day and I have yet to learn like anything. I've learned that this professor is horrible and that negative learning is a thing that is possible.

I have lost knowledge in this class. It has had a negative impact on my brain.

It's bad too because I feel like this guys is legitimately trying to do well. If he was being lazy or whatever, I would feel perfectly okay sitting in my corner and resenting him. But I've come to realize that this is him trying his best.

So now I have to sit in my corner and feel awkward.

It's not all bad. There's a certain type of solidarity that you form with a room full of other people who have to endure a terrible professor with you. Like, I don't really talk all that much to the other people in my classes, but in this class you can just catch someone's eye and they'll nod at you with a look in their eye that says, "I understand, fellow student. This guy is the worst. This class is the worst. Let us suffer in silence together like the brave soldiers we are."

One of the guys in my class is literally a former solider. So he is really good at that look.

Ugh.

I just hate being here. Sad thing is, this is far from the first class I've had like this. In my three and a half years of college, I've had like three professors I legitimately liked, a lot I was more or less ambivalent about and then like at least a third who were just staggeringly incompetent.

(I'm aware I went from numbers to guesstimation to, like, fractions. Shut up, my school sucks.)

But, yeah. Ball State. Mediocrity redefined.

I'm thinking that after I graduate I might write them an angry letter and demand my money back. College has a thirty day money back guarantee, right? Or am I getting it confused with sweaters again? Yeah, I think the money back thing is about sweaters. Never mind.

Speaking of graduation, that is a thing that is happening soon. Like, that's about six months away. Then I am supposed to join the adult world. With, like, a job and things. And hey potential employers for sociology students who I know read my blog...I am totally available.

Seriously, though. I only have this degree because I kept changing majors, but also kept taking sociology electives. I realized this summer that the only way I would be able to graduate on time would be with a sociology degree.

So, now I have this degree almost?

And I have seriously no idea what I am supposed to do with it.

It's not like there are sociology shops on every corner. I can picture myself now, begging by the highway with a sign that says "WILL EXPLAIN SOCIOLOGICAL CONCEPTS FOR FOOD."

Errrruuuuugggghhhhh.

This class is still going on. I think that we've slipped into a black hole. Time has stopped. We've reached the event horizon.

I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored.

I went fishing this weekend. I'm aware that there was no transition there, but I couldn't come up with one and I wanted to talk about fishing.

So, fishing. Yes.

My dad was with me. He makes a big deal about all of the fish that we catch. It's very nice, especially for my little brother. But he makes an even bigger deal about the fish that we don't catch.

According to my father, every fish that we don't catch is roughly the size of malnourished elephant.

Like, if  we catch a fish he'll be all like, "wow! great catch, this fish is literally the biggest fish I've ever seen, excellent work everyone, we really came together as a team."

But if a fish gets away it's like, "too bad, that was the spawn of cthulu, the one true elder fish. the fish of legend and myth. forever we shall be haunted by the fishy glory that was almost ours this day!"

Yeah, my dad is great.

But, anyway. I am not skilled at fishing. I was not aware that there was any skill involved. But based on the results that I had, there is skill involved and I do not have it.

 I also do not really enjoy fishing. I mean, I've been fishing before, but not for the past couple of months. And I completely forgot how insanely boring it was.

This happens all of the time. I do something, think it's boring, stop doing it and forget about. But then a couple of months will pass, I'll forget about it and then I'll decide that I need to try again. It's a vicious cycle.

This has happened with knitting, drawing, playing piano and waking up early enough to curl my hair. And probably a lot of other things. We've established that my memory is not the most reliable thing.

This blog is fairly short. But class is over in like five minutes and I have important things to go do. Like more classwork for this stupid school. I am going to graduate. I don't care how stupid things get. I don't care what sort of insane shenanigans I have to put up with.

I will graduate and then never, ever come back to Muncie ever again.

Welcome to the Line Police

So I've been reading my old blogs lately. 

They really, really suck. I was terrible at writing and at attempting to be funny. Past Danielle is kind of a moron. A moron who spent too much money and left me in poverty. 

But, yeah. My old blogs. Are the worst. I mean, I'm not going to delete them because they're fascinating in a morbid and horrible kind of way. But, seriously. It is embarrassing to read them and think that, at one point, they were the product me actually trying my best. 

Ugh, past Danielle you financially irresponsibly moron. 

So I need to add a new part of my job title. 

In addition to being Danielle, stir fryer extraordinaire, I am now also Danielle, the line police. 

Let me explain. Yesterday at work, two of the football players came up at about the same time. I only had one skillet open. So, like the mature adults that they are, they both started bitching at me about being there first. I told them to figure it out themselves. I am a stir fry cook, not a line monitor. 

Five minutes later, they were still talking over each other and shoving like five-year-olds. It was stupid. 

I proposed rock-paper-scissors, but that was apparently too much of a game of chance. Eventually I just started cooking one of them and ignored the cries of dismay. 

It was so annoying! I don't get paid enough to stir fry, let alone to settle petty disputes among college aged people. And seriously, peeps, you can't decide who gets to go next?

You are supposed to be adults! You are supposed to be adults with at least some of a college education! My little brother who is six and terribly sarcastic has better manners than you! 

I got really, really angry. Like probably unreasonably angry. I may or may not have yelled that them that they were really pissing me off and they needed to act their age or leave. 

Customer service, oh yeah. 

But, no, it's been kind of simmering just under the surface for a while now, though. I've had to say the stupidest things during my work with the football players. A list for your perusal: 

"No, you can't touch that! It's raw meat, you idiot!" 

"Please stop dancing and take your food." 

"No, you can't touch that either! It will burn you!" 

"No, I'm not on the menu." 

"Yes the olive oil is extra virgin. Congratulations you got me to say virgin. Good job. Must be a quite an achievement for you." 

"I don't care if you're hungover, I can't make it cook faster." 

"I'm not going to take your order if you sing it at me," 

And that's just from, like, the last two weeks. I hate the football players. They suck. And are the worst. 

Ugh. 

But, outside of work everything is mostly fine. I'm still living off of ramen and canned vegetables, but I'm kind of getting used to it. You can make ramen fancier by adding vegetables. 

It's, like, poverty-shic. 

Today in my sociology of gender class the professor asked if anyone wasn't planning on getting married. I was the only one who raised my hand. In a class of like two-hundred people. It was really awkward because the professor asked me to explain why. 

Explaining the fact that I am antisocial and could not spend all of my time with one person without murdering them was kind of hard to explain. In, like, a sociologically relevant way. Also in a way that did not make me sound insane. 

Okay, I think that's a good note to leave on. 

Or, as good as it ever gets around here. 

Merry Homecoming

Happy Homecoming week, people. 

It's that time of year again. The time of year when people who care about school spirit get hella obnoxious and the rest of us get hella annoyed. 

No, I won't go to the game. No, you yelling at me to go to the game is not going to change my mind. In fact, it is likely going to do the opposite. I was 100% sure I wasn't going before. Now I would literally rather die than go to the stupid game. 

I make the football players stir fry every day. I don't need anymore time with them. We're good as is. 

But, yeah, homecoming. I am celebrating by, you know, going home. 

I hate campus during homecoming weekend. Everyone is loud and drunk and spirited. I mean, I would understand a little more if my school didn't suck. But,..my school does suck. So...what's the point, really? 

In other news, I've been living off of about $400 a month of late. I was supposed to get student loans. That did not happen. So I have been living off of the wages of my minimum wage job. It sucks.

My rent is more than my paycheck. So I have to beg money from people. Like a beggar. Or something. It is hella unfortunate. HELLA. UNFORTUNATE.

But, yeah, I've been eating a lot of peanut butter sandwiches and ramen because those two things are super cheap. Last year I ate salmon and coscous, the trendy foods of the upper middle class. Now I am languishing and suriving on canned corn that I bought last year for reasons I can't remember.

I can't buy anything I don't like 100% need.

Like, that includes textbooks. Being in college classes without textbooks for said college classes sucks. Granted, I think my school problems have more to do with me sitting here and blogging during lectures.

Ugh. Everything sucks lately.

Speaking of everything, the weather is getting cold again. Now, normally I would be annoyed with this. Cold weather means I have to wear real pants all the time and that my walk to work is now cold in addition to being mind-numbingly boring. But this year I am excited because cold weather means that all the bugs die.

And that no more bugs will try to make their homes in  my apartment. Yay for no more bugs in my apartment.

I hate bugs, 

Today, I got a quiz back in a class that I pay the opposite of attention in. I got an A on it and I have no idea how. The professor wrote "good job!" on it. I really wanted to do finger guns at him and say, "no, good job to you sir. you made a quiz that i was able to pass after paying no attention in your class. so...good job." 

Speaking of jobs, we've got a whole bunch of new kids starting at work lately. It's weird. Who starts a job in the middle of semester? I mean, what were you doing up until this point? Did you just now realize you needed a job? Did you get fired from some different job?

Anyway. It's an adjustment. I kind of like it because I get to tell other people what to do because I have been there longer and I know stuff. I don't like it because I am horrible at being in charge. It devolves into yelling and violence pretty quick. 

Some of the kids who've started at work seem cool. Some of them seem boring. Some of them seem awful. One of them came up to me yesterday and started telling me about how he trips on acid all of the time. 

It was, like, not prompted by anything at all. I was just leaning up against the counter and doing my stir fry shtick and he comes up and starts telling me about his drug usage. I was so confused. I was not wearing my "tell me about your illegal activities" shirt. I was not wearing my secret acid-user club pin. 

I am the worst person to tell your drug stories to. Seriously. I never know what people want from me. Usually I do a thumbs up. I'm not into the scene. I don't do drugs because I was in DARE and also because I assume that drugs are expensive? Probably? 

I'm a criminal justice major, sort of. I should probably know. 

Whatevs. I will continue to listen to the drug stories that are said at me and kind of shrug awkwardly in response to them. 

Okie doke then. 

Laterz. 

School Shopping AKA Blatant Thievery

I am so done with school guys.

I thought I was done before.

No. That was not being done. That was like being begun or something. 

It's just...look, I didn't school shop at all this year. The backpack I'm using is one that I literally stole from my dad's classroom. I have one notebook. It's the one that I've had since my freshman year of college and it has like a dozen pieces of paper left inside of it. I have one folder. I stole it from my mom's classroom. There are power rangers on it. I have three pens and they are all purple. 

I am not taking this very seriously. 

But, yeah, I'm not like failing out or anything. Which is legitimately surprising to me based on the amount of attention I pay in classes and the amount of effort I put into my school work. 

My GPA is honestly not that bad. 

I keep getting invited to presentations about grad school cause I'm apparently in the top percentile of my major. This is completely baffling to me. 

I made paper airplanes in class today instead of taking notes! I've just started texting people relentlessly in class whether they text me back or not! It turns into a dark and sometimes rhyming monologue after a while. Or is it a rap? Am I rapping? 

This is what you do to me, Ball State. I don't even know if I can rap and it's all your fault. 

Work is going...ehhhhhhh. Work is going. That's about it. 

I still don't have my loan money. So I'm paying my rent and stuff with the money I make at my minimum wage job. That I only work like twenty hours a week at. It sucks. It sucks a lot. 

Ugh. I just can't wait to graduate. And then to be poor and hungry and bored in some different place. But legit I'm probs gonna move home, work and do grad school online/at somewhere close to me. 

Yay. More school and poverty. 

In other news, I've started to watch Star Trek. I watched it a lot when I was really young and it didn't make any sense. Watching it now that I have, like, a good grasp on the English language has been easier. 

It's cheesy. The special effects are awful. The plots are predictable. The acting is funny when it isn't supposed to be. 

I LOVE IT. 

I think I'm getting nerdier and nerdier as I get older. It's a problem. 

Or maybe not. 

I don't care. 

I care at so few things at this point. 

Like this class I'm in right now. It's about globalization. It's been like eight weeks at this point. I am still unsure of what globalization actually is. 

Yaaaaaay.

So, Halloween is coming up. Halloween is my Favorite Holiday (it is Capitalized because it is Important). And now that I am 21 I can go to Halloween parties with alcohol! 

Getting drunk in my batman costume is on my list of Top Five Favorite Things to Do. I don't know what the other four are. They probably involve sleep, food, books and video games. Not necessarily in that order. 

But, yeah. That's what's going on with me. I am as much of an unfocused mess as I usually am. I'm just, like, more meta about it lately. Oh no. I'm becoming self-aware. 

Am I jumping the shark? 

Maybe. 

But I think we've established that I do not care. 

Crumpets and Enthusiastic Crying

I HAVE SUCH EXCITING NEWS. 

Well, you probably won't think that its exciting. I mean, I do. I think its very exciting. But...honestly, it will probably not change your daily lives one way or the other. 

Anyway. I get to work stir fry on Mondays now tooooo! Yay! No more dishroom. It's all stir fry all the time. Awww yeeeeah. 

But, there is a downside to my exciting news. 

They're back, you guys.

The football players. They're back at my job and everything about my life is stupid now.

 Also I keep running out of stuff thanks to their insatiable appetite. And, see, that wouldn't be a problem if they were cool about it. But they're all like, "are you sure you don't have more?" 

And I'm like, "Yes I'm sure. If I had more I would be serving you them and not telling you this." 

And then they always say, "do you have more in the back?" 

Why is it that people think the back of my dining hall is some sort of magical land of milk and honey where there are shrimps and noodles for all? The streets are not paved with rice. The water fountains don't flow with general tso's sauce. Erugh. Can you imagine that? That would be so gross. It would get all gunked up and it wouldn't flow it would just kind of gloop out. That's the sound it would make too. Gloop, gloop gloop. 

Yuuuuuuck. 

But no, it's actually kind of awesome because if I run out of noodles or something they all act like I took the entire pan of noodles and ate them all specifically so there would be none left for the football team. They just look at me with these horribly sad expressions that say "why, stir fry girl? why would you hurt us in this way?"

BECAUSE ITS FUN YOU LOSERS!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!

I had to, like, be physically restrained from telling them "noodles are for winners" after they lost their game last week. In hindsight, it was probably good that I did not say that. 

They would likely try to beat me up. And I'm pretty sure they'd win. I mean, I talk big but I am not physically gifted in areas of strength, speed or anything else useful. 

Anyway. 

School is happening. It is a thing I am dealing with.

And by dealing I mean putting in the minimum amount of effort to not fail. So, that's a thing that is happening.

I've also done like a minimum amount of homework, like, at my home. I do it during other classes. Because I am trash who does not listen during lectures.

I'm sorry! They're so boring! And paying attention is so stupid!

I'm in class right now, like, writing this. I figure that it's better than my usual practice of typing curse words over and over and then turning them rainbow colors. 

I also have a really bad habit of doing things like texting people or playing stupid games on my iPhone.

Speaking of my iphone, my iphone is broken.

Like, the screen is completely shattered. It keeps cutting my fingers and/or ears. Of course I still use it because I am addicted to technology. 

In other sad news, my sister left the country. 

She's in England now, with all the tea and crumpets a person could wish for. No, but I took the day off of work and classes on Monday so I could escort her there along with my family. 

It was a bad choice. I failed to account for the fact that I am a really unattractive crier. Like, there's way too much snot involved. Also a lot of Darth Vader-esque gasping. I do not cry pretty. But I do cry really enthusiastically, I guess? 

Luckily, crying isn't a thing I do a whole lot. Usually only when I get mad, I don't get mad very often, but when I do there is lots of yelling and lots of tears. But I really like my sister and the fact that she drives me around! I am going to miss her and her car very much. So I got sad. And I cried. Like an idiot. 

I feel like the greater Indianapolis area is judging me. 

But I'm hoping to visit England at some point during this year. See my sister. Be a horrible American tourist. You know, all fun things. 

But before that I have to get a passport. 

And then fly on a plane. I hate planes. They are big, flying death-boxes...uh, coffins. They're called coffins. 

And I, as a person who is alive and junk, am generally not a fan of being in coffins. So, you know. Pros and cons. 

Ugh, I should go. My professor is bitch-facing at me. I think he knows that I am paying the opposite of attention. 

Okay...I will keep you updated as to the status of the football players and my stir fry escapades. You know. The important things. 

Later. 

This Blog Brought to You By the Letters X and O

I'm back! Back at school, I mean. I didn't actually go anywhere or anything. I just didn't have like anything to blog about because I was doing literally nothing with my life. 

No things. None of the things. 

But now I'm back at school doing the things and stirring the fry and so now I have material. 

Yay for material. 

Not so much yay for what the material contains, but the, like, presence of material is a good thing. I guess. See this is the problem with having a depressing blog. If depressing things happen, you get weirdly happy about it because now you have stuff to blog about. But also it sucks because there are fleas in your couch and you have to throw it away. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Let's start with the flea thing. My apartment was completely infested with fleas this summer. I left it for a few weeks to do vacation things and when I came back BAM! FLEAS! 

There were so many. 

So many. You literally cannot fathom how many fleas were in my apartment. There was a flea army. A literal army of militarized fleas living in my carpet fibers. The level of fleas was well over 9000. IT WAS HORRIBLE.

I had to throw away my couch and my ugly orange chair. I loved that chair. It was so ugly. I freaked out so much about the fleas that I lost my voice, regained my voice, developed a temporary stutter and then threw up. 

I REALLY HATE BUGS, OKAY? Even though they are mostly gone now, the traumatic memories remain. Like, haunting me and shit. 

 They bit me and got in my sock drawer and got all up in my socks' business. 

Long story short, I now have no socks to wear to work. 

Oh! Oh! Speaking of work, I got a nametag! Yay! Also a locker! I hope I don't lose them as punishment when my boss sees that I have no socks. 

I am so excited about those two things though. Also I am excited because my boss says the football players may not be coming back this year. I do not hate football players. I just...dislike them. A lot. Like, probably more than is healthy?

They just make my job SO HARD and SO STUPID. 

Granted, a lot of my job is stupid anyway, thanks to myself and my behavior. Also my puns. I am more proud of my puns than I should be, I think. When I am an adult with an adult job, I will probably have to reduce the amount of puns, old memes and geeky references that pepper my speech. 

I think they make me sound totes mature and respectable and shit. Society...seems to have a different view. Whatever. Society is stupid. 

Trust me. I have most of a sociology degree. 

I am a professional. 

Blah. I have like two hours before my next class. I was going to play skyrim, but I forgot to bring my mouse. And you can't play skyrim with a trackpad. You just can't. 

I hate first day classes. They are awkward and stupid. All we do is go over syllabuses. And studiously avoid making eye-contact with anyone. Though, I'm starting to think the eye-contact thing might just be me. Maybe. 

Gah, I am so weird. 

Like, I was excited to go back to work. How strange is that? My job is literally one of the worst jobs ever and I missed it. I think I have Stockholm stir fry syndrome. It is what happens when you are forced to stir the fry so often that you before weirdly dependent on it. And also the money it provides. 

But mostly just the stir frying experience. 

Hmmmm...what else can I tell you...

I went to a bar the other night. I was weird and awkward. No one was surprised. I utterly failed at trying to make guys buy me drinks. It might have something to do with the fact that I didn't wear my glasses so I just sat the the bar being unable to see and making weird faces in an attempt to somehow improve my eyesight. 

It did not work. Glasses suck. 

And as my dad always says, guys don't date girls with glasses. 

My dad is really good at accidentally insulting people while trying to compliment them. I call it at complisult. That sad thing is, he's always legitimately trying to be nice. My dad is a nice person. He doesn't say mean things about his kids. But when he tries to compliment them...

"You look really good from far away!" 

"You look so much better without that goop on your eyes." 

"You actually sound like a grown-up over the phone!" 

And of course...

"Guys just don't date girls with glasses, Danielle!" 

I'd say it makes more sense in context...but it really doesn't. I like my dad, he is the best dad. But sometimes...he is just bad at saying words. He's started doing this thing where he nudges me when a boy even remotely close to my age walks by and whispering "Danielle!" like I might not have noticed the college-aged male human in my proximity. 

Yes dad, I see him. Yes dad, he is my age. No, I am not going to attempt to jump him. Why? Oh, because it's weird that you're pointing out random dudes. Like, really weird. 

Ugh, my family. My little brother, who is like six, has his own version of complisults. 

He doesn't compliment people, oh no, he insults them. He just does it really, really, really specifically. It comes out complimentary because it's like, really? That's the biggest issue you came up with? Wow, I must not have many faults if you had to dig that deep. 

The other day he told me "You don't do well in school!" 

Uh, okay. 

And he told my brother "You're really sensitive!" 

I've been told that ladies like a sensitive guy. 

He told my mom, "You breathe too loud!" 

That's what you're going with? You're going with breathing volume?

I think it's really funny. It's one of the few super mean behaviors that I didn't teach him myself. He came up with it all on his own. 

I am so proud. 

In other new, I am worried that I am ruining my little brother. He is way too sarcastic for his age. Like, most six year olds are not sarcastic. It's just kind of obvious. But my little brother spends most of his time around me and my two other college-aged siblings. 

Yeah...he's picked up a few things. I'm pretty sure he's the only one in his first grade class who regularly uses the word "douche" and the phrase "look at this asshole" to describe people. 

I brought him to his meet the teacher night and we literally sat in the corner all night and snickered about the other kids. Who were all six. 

I am horrible. 

But I'm also hungry. 

So I think I'll go fetch a snack before class. 

XOXO Gossip Girl

(But actually Danielle.)

(Shit, is that XOXO thing like trademarked? Am I gonna get sued?) 

(Gimme a sec...okay, uh, disclaimer? I am not affiliated with Gossip Girl. Or the CW. Or the letters X and O. Okay, that should take care of it.) 

Everybody Have a Taquito

Summer's already more than half over, guys. This sucks. 

This sucks because school is starting soon and school usually equals work for me. Not, like, a lot of work because I am a champ at doing as little work as possible. 

But presumably some amount of work will need to be done in order to obtain my stupid college degree. Ugh, effort. Effort is the worst. 

But, yeah. Summer. I have had various adventures so far, each as wacky as the last. 

(I will level with you. That is a lie. There has been minimal wackiness. Most of my adventures have involved me being by myself and watching a lot of cartoons. Like...my little brother and I watched every episode of Ninjago. The fact that he was there makes it a tiny bit better, maybe, but I was legitimately invested in it after a while. I'd give it three out of five ninja stars. Watch it if you have a small child and are not allowed to play video games with the small child in the room because of "blood" and "violence" and "no, Danielle. Just no." Anyway.) 

A little while ago, my sisters and I had a girls day for my little sisters sixteenth birthday party. Unfortunately, this involved pedicures. I really really really do not like it when people touch my feet. Like, I'm weird about it. Or weirder than usual, I guess. It's like going to the dentist but for feet. They even have the same lil drill and stuff.

So, when I was there, instead of getting a pedicure and biting back screams of horror the whole time, I spent the whole time chilling in the corner. Like a boss. A really awkward and uncomfortable boss. Yeah.

Anyway. My last year of school is coming up. The fact that I have no life plans after that is probably kind of concerning. Like, I'm legitimately concerned. I'm being serious about this. I am seriously worried about the lack of plans I have after college.

Am I going to do anything to combat this problem? Probably not. My usual problem solving philosophy is to ignore things until they go away. Sometimes it works, sometimes my water gets shut off. So, you know, pros and cons.

Speaking of problems, my parents had a talk with me about my drinking problem the other day. And by drinking problem, I mean my problem with drinking way way way way too much apple juice. 

I just really like it okay? I can stop any time I want. I don't have a problem, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. 

Yeah. Between this and all of the cartoons, I think that I might actually be five years old. 

But, legit, like the only place's I've driven myself anywhere this summer were various grocery stores to get juice and literally nothing else. And yes, before you ask, it was necessary to go to different stores every time. Do you know what happens to people who become "regulars" at grocery stores? You don't?

Well...neither do I. But I don't want to find out! 

I know how working at boring, minimum wage jobs is. It involves a lot of standing, staring and judging people. There is so much judging at grocery stores. So much. And I don't want to be that weird girl who buys gallons of apple juice. That girl is going to die alone in a house full of cats who will eat her corpse. 

I don't even like cats that much.

Urgh. My life, you guys. My life. 

Oh, adding to the things that make me a literal five year old, I have been stupid obsessed with laser tag lately. I have like no money and I have been spending all of that no money on laser tag. 

I REALLY LIKE IT YOU GUYS. 

It's like a video game but in real life. I'm actually reasonably good at it. I mean, most of the people that I'm shooting are in elementary school, but they're littler than me so they're smaller targets! They have the advantage! I am almost positive that the average elementary schooler is smaller than me. 

They also play a lot more Call of Duty than me if the way they were swearing was an indication. Also, they called me a n00b like three times (the l33tsp34k was implied). 

Also, they were super mean. I told off one of my friends for, like, relentlessly attacking this little guy. "Don't shoot five year olds!" Was my precise phrasing. I remember this because after I said it, the kid I was talking about turned around with this completely disgusted look on his eyes and shouted, "I'm seven and a half!" with so much disgust in his voice that I was surprised I didn't spontaneously combust under the sheer force of his hatred. 

Then he called me a bitch. 

So I shot him. 

I don't like that word, kid, unless I am the one using it. 

But, yeah, other than being called mean names by seven and a half year olds, laser tag has been a huge success. Five out of five. Would recommend. 

Hmmmm. 

Well, that's pretty much all I got for y'all right now. I could go on, of course. I could always go on. I have a problem with over-sharing and also I am pretty sure I have some form of attention-deficit-ness that makes long, unconnected rambles a thing that I am very excellent at. 

But, I figure you have loved ones or at least taquitos to get back to. 

But, real fast, while we're on the subject of taquitos, does anyone want a box of 57, wait, 52 frozen taquitos? I meant to buy a box of twelve and I got a box of 57 instead. Who even needs that many taquitos? I certainly do not. I mean, I've had them since, like, February and I've eaten five of them. 

I'd have a taquito party or something, but that would involve effort and we all know how I feel about effort! 

I like taquitos more than effort. And I freaking hate taquitios. So, so, so much. 

I should go. I'm getting unreasonably angry about the money I wasted buying that many stupid taquitos. I'm probs going to go shake my fist at the sky and shout "TAAAAAAAAQUUUUUIIIITOOOOOOOS!" In a dramatic fashion. 

Shut up, it is totally justified. 

Laters. 

Sharks, Snakes and Awesome Roadtrip Playlists

So. 

It's summer. That's a thing that's happening. 

I've actually had a fairly eventful summer so far. I went to Florida. So that was fun. 

It really was pretty fun. I went to Harry Potter land and bought a bunch of Slytherin merch because of course I belong to the asshole house that nobody likes. Whatever. Snakes are awesome, no one can convince me otherwise. 

I also spent a lot of time in the hotel watching crime shows. There were a lot of different ones with different acronyms, but they all kind of blurred together. It probably didn't help that I couldn't remember the title of any of them, so I just called them all CSI.

 As a criminal justice major, I can tell you that those shows are like the opposite of accurate. Being a "criminal profiler" is not, like, a real job that you can have. Just in case anyone was attempting to become a profiler. Just thought I'd kill your dreams for you. There. Dead dreams now. Have fun becoming an accountant or whatever. 

But, yeah, the car ride there and back sucked. I made a really obnoxious roadtrip playlist involving hipster tunes, movie soundtracks, techno music and showtunes. I enjoyed it. My driving companion did not. We compromised on listening to weird podcasts. 

Still, it was like an eighteen hour drive. Eighteen hours is a really long time to be without wifi. 

I also went to the beach and refused to go deeper in the water than, like, three or four feet. I am terrified of sharks. Also octopuses. As you can guess, the SyFy original movie Megashark vs. Giant Octopus was a veritable horror show for me. 

And before you accuse me of making things up again, let me assure you that Megashark vs. Giant Octopus is totally a real movie. I have it on DVD because of reasons. 

Most of those reasons involve high school Danielle spending money on stupid stuff instead of saving it for college like an intelligent human. I have all five seasons of Fringe because high school Danielle was a moron who had apparently not heard of netflix. 

And because high school Danielle was such a moron, I am now in the uncomfortable position of not having enough money to pay my rent next month. I need to get a job, guys. UUUUGGGGGHHHHH. 

Not having a car really sucks when job-applying, let me tell you. I can only apply to places within, like, a reasonable biking and/or walking distance because I would rather die than set foot on a bus. Buses are terrible, awful places. 

So, my choices are, like, work at the Pizza King or work at the liquor store. I kinda wanna work at the liquor store. Granted, I'm pretty sure that an employee discount on apple schnapps and other apple-flavored alcohol would end with me becoming an alcoholic. 

I just love things that taste like apples. It is the best of all the flavors. 

Anyway. 

I am slowly but surely attempting to become computer-literate. This is motivated purely by video games. Like, I'm not even going to pretend I care about the practical applications of coding or whatever. I just want to be able to run a ridiculous number of texture and lighting mods on skyrim without, like, breaking my computer. 

I love my computer. 

So, yeah, my normally completely embarrassing search history has been made all the more embarrassing with the addition of queries like "what even is RAM" and "PC gaming for complete and utter morons." I'm not going to lie, there are a lot more searches filled with angry expletives and creative cussword combos. 

I don't like being bad at things. It makes me feel like I'm back in math class. Math class was also filled with creative cussword combinations, but most of those were muttered under my breath or written on my desk next to unflattering caricatures of prime numbers. 

I don't know. Math sucks. That's the point I think I was trying to make. 

So today I realized that I may be spending too much time hanging out in my apartment with my cat. 

Apparently there is a point in time when even I crave the company of other people. Today I realized that the faintly unsettled feeling I've had on and off for the last week is loneliness. Like if I was a sim my social interaction meter or whatever would be at zero.

It's probably really weird that it took me over a week to realize that I'm lonely. Then again, I really haven't been lonely in, um, a very long time. My personality type kind of means that I hate other people and spending time with them like most of the time. INTP, bitches. I hate people...look it up. 

Luckily, my sister took me to get ihop this morning, so I feel better. I got to ramble and I also got bacon, so it was a win all around. 

I should be good for another week at least. 

At least. 

Ugh, I should go. I places to be and jobs to apply to. 

By that, I mean I'm going to mess around on my computer for the rest of today. I am excellent at priorities. 

Welcome to the Dark Side

So I wrote a paper last night. 

It was pretty spectacular, guys. It had a lot to do with murders and murderers because I am a criminal justice major and those are things that we write about. I finished it before dawn this morning, so that was a nice change of pace. Got like five whole hours of sleep. 

It was awesome. 

But, anyway, now my internet history is full of searches for murderers. I downloaded pictures of murderers to use on my powerpoint. I'm really glad that no one is sneaking peeks at my internet history. Not just, like, last night, but like always. 

My internet search history is just so embarrassing. 

And it's not even embarrassing for the usual reasons! It's just...ugh, let me give you an example. My last five searches are like "murderers who were under 18," "which alcohol tastes the least like alcohol?" "are colorblind people allowed to drive buses?" "hairstyles for people with glasses" and "best grad schools for writing, sociology, law, criminal justice..." and that list goes on for a while. 

My internet searches are not internet searches. They are stories. Each one has some weird incident attached. 

There's also, like, time stamps involved so you can see just how much time I spend on certain websites. It's embarrassing to admit that you spend, like, three hours a day on pinterest. Or to realize that you spent four hours last night reading dumb internet comics. 

It's bad, guys. I really hope that no government agencies are looking at my internet history. I bet they'd just look at each other and be, like, "Wow. This person is such a loser, I bet she has no friends." 

Preach it, government agents. Preach. It. 

So I have to give a speech in a little while over that paper I wrote last night. I'm excited. There is a room of people who have to listen to me talk for like twenty minutes. And they are not allowed to leave. 

Hehehehehe. 

It's great because I don't measure the success of my speeches in grade-form. I measure it in the number of times I am able to make a room full of people laugh at me. Or with me, whatever. I'm not really all that picky. 

I don't know why. I doesn't make any sense. I don't talk, like, ever in this class that I'm giving the presentation for, but give me a reason to get up in front of the class and I transform into a stand up comedian. And I'm a girl, so that's no good. 

Women comedians are the opposite of funny. 

I'll let you know how it goes. It might be great. It might be awful. It might be a little of both. I don't know. It's for my ethics class. Ethics are dumb and boring.

Boo ethics. 

Anyway, I'm in class right now. It's boring, hence the blogging. And  there is a random girl in here who just won't stop talking. The class has devolved from a lecture into a dialogue between this one student and the professor. 

The whole class is just sitting here watching the two of them with vaguely bemused expressions.

Some people...they have no self awareness, let me tell you. I am flawed, I am like super flawed, but I'm more or less aware of it. I know that I have issues. I know that I will monologue at a class today and get, like, zero of my points across. I know that about myself. That is a thing I know. 

I could go on. You know how all heroes have a dark side? Harry Potter had the fact that he was a horcrux. Frodo wanted to keep the ring. Batman has dead parents. You know, dark side stuff. 

Well, I too have a dark side. A dark side called Group-Leader-Danielle. Group-Leader-Danielle is everything bad that has ever existed about my personality. GLD (that's the acronym we're going with, okay?) emerges whenever there is a group project. It doesn't matter if it's like semester-long or ten-minutes long. GLD will emerge and do her best to seize control. 

It is so bad. 

I hate group projects. You can't even understand how, just, completely terrible I turn when group projects are on the table. 

This paper I wrote was supposed to be a group project. I went to the professor and asked him very nicely if he would let me do out by myself because I didn't want to subject anyone to the horror that is doing a group project with me. 

The only valid ideas? My ideas. The way we're going to do the powepoint? My way. No one ever tells me to be group leader, I just seize control. I am the Vladimir Putin of group projects. I will use whatever underhanded tactics I deem necessary to get my way. 

I like to think that I've become fairly chill since high school. My temper is manageable now. I barely ever throw foodstuffs at random passerbys in fits of insane and uncontrollable rage nowadays. I've injured, like, only four people in angry slap-fights this year. So...chill. It is a thing I am. 

Group-Leader-Danielle is not chill. GLD is the opposite of chill. GLD is about as chill as Krakatoa. If anything goes wrong, an eruption of hate and name-calling and possible physical pain is going to occur. 

And I can never admit that I might be the one it the wrong. I aggressively argued that there were five ninja turtles, not four, because I made a typo one time. That's a real story. That's, like, an actual thing that happened. 

So its bad. Its one of the reasons that I should never be in charge of anything ever. Like, ever. 

The fact that I'm aware of it changes nothing. I can't stop it. No one can stop it. Group-Leader-Danielle will not be contained. 

Anyway. 

In stir fry news...I will be stirring the fry again next year. I just signed up for my shifts. And because I've worked there for over a full semester now, I get like a five cent pay increase! So now I won't be making minimum wage. I will be making five cents above minimum wage. 

I am moving up in the world. 

But, in order to fulfill my basic needs like summer, like food, rent, power, wifi and netflix...you know, Maslow's hierarchy stuff...I am going to need to find some sort of job. 

Ugh. 

I do not want to get a job other than stir fry. I like doing stir fry. Stir fry is fun. Plus, I only have to work twenty hours a week. I do not want a real-person job where I have to work forty hours a week. 

I might just see if I can live this summer on my leftover money from this year. I might have to cancel my wifi and eat literally nothing but bread and ramen noodles, but I could do it. 

I'm going to go full Walden, guys. Be all isolated. Don't use the internet. Eat ramen and cheese sandwiches. That was Walden, right? The one with the ramen? 

 Sometimes I think that I'm one like or as short of a simile. I'm a metaphor, guys. And no one wants to be a metaphor. 

No one.

Bad Choices are the Best Choies

Guys, I finally understand why people under twenty-one are not allowed to do fun things like drink and gamble.

 I kind of think that adults over twenty-one should not be allowed to do these things either, if I am being entirely honest. 

Let me elaborate. This weekend, I made a lot of bad choices. 

So many that I have decided to declare last Friday night as Danielle's Night of Really Bad Choices! (Note: there is capitalization involved because the choices were Really Bad and I felt like the extra emphasis was necessary.) 

But, no. It was just a night of really bad financial/life choices all around. First, my sister and I went out to expensive dinner and my wallet was sad about it. My stomach was happy because it was steak and I love steak, but that is another matter entirely.

 I also had several fruity girly drinks with dinner because I am an adult and I can drink fruity girly drinks without shame. They were really expensive and did not actually contain all the much alcohol. After like four appletinis (best drink, by the way) and a strawberry margarita, I was slightly buzzed, like, at best. 

I have no excuse for the fact that we went to the casino afterwards. Like, no excuse at all. But, yes, my sister and I went to the casino and I lost all of the money I had in my wallet. 

It wouldn't have been so bad if I would have lost it all, like, straight off the bat. But there was a point where I was legitimately doing a good job and winning money! I started off the night with thirty bucks.

 When you're a poor college student that is actually a lot of money. That is half of a power bill right there. Or a third of a grocery bill, minus the name-brand fruit juice. 

I lost ten of it real quick. There's a machine called the Zodiac Sisters and let me tell you, they are some fickle bitches. I've been to the casino three or four times and half of those times the Zodiac Sisters are like falling over each other to give me all of the money. My dad and I won a hundred bucks one time. It was great. I bought a pizza. 

But, no, other times they are just coldhearted and terrible fake people who take my ten dollars and give me nothing back. That's what happened this weekend. All of my money...poof! Gone! It was like magic,  but not the good kind. Dark magic. Evil magic. 

So, yeah. Ten dollars all gone. Three and a half bottles of name-brand crangrape juice. It was a dark ten minutes for me. 

But, once I got over that and stopped wailing in despair, my sister and I decided to play blackjack. Blackjack is a game that I am terrible at. I panic and do incredibly stupid shit like hit on an 18 or stand on a 12. 

But, no, my sister is super helpful and will usually stand next to me and tell me things like, "no Danielle that's stupid don't do that why are you making these choices no do you hate having money no no stop." So it works out. But, there were only two seats left and they were far away from each other so I had to rely on my own horrible decision making skills for once. 

I didn't lose all of my money right away. I started with twenty, got up to fifty and then refused to stop playing until I was back to zero. 

I know. 

I know. 

I know. 

I am not a functional adult and I do not make good choices. I've got that. I am crystal clear on that fact. So, yes. I left the casino minus thirty bucks which, when you make minimum wage like I do, is equal to about a whole shift of making stir fry. 

But, to celebrate our crushing and complete defeat, my sister and I went and got cigars flavored like tropical fruit. They were terrible, made me gag and I smoked mine anyway dammit. I am an adult I am so allowed to smoke cigars flavored like tropical fruit if I want to. 

After that, we almost got tattoos, wimped out on getting tattoos, went back to my apartment, watched mediocre stand-up comedians on netflix (none of them were women because women are terrible at stand-up) and ate lots of cookie dough ice cream. 

Bad choices! All of the things we did were bad choices! 

It was fun, though. 

But, yeah, the next day the people with the apartment above me made some bad choices of their own. And by the people above me, I actually mean the water-heater above me. It broke, leaked and ruined my bathroom ceiling. I woke up, went in to get a shower and saw hunks of drywall hanging down like flakes of skin hanging off of a gigantic, shedding lizard. 

I don't know.

It was unpleasant, water was still leaking down and I got hit in the head with a piece of ceiling. I called my landlord to fix it, as one does, and the maintenance guy came over, which was good of him. What wasn't good of him was how he went upstairs, stopped the leaking and then just kind of skedaddled without even kind of fixing my ceiling. 

I had to call back later and then they told me that I should be able to handle the whole "slowly crumbling bathroom ceiling" business on my own. Um, no, landlord people. That is not a thing I can do on my own. I do not have a husband or a boyfriend or even a close brofriend who I can force to do it for me. 

Even if I would have decided to date that midget little person dude, this would still be an issue. He couldn't have reached the ceiling. I mean, on a scale of one to Colorado, it is not that high, but still. That midget dude was really short. 

But, no, I can get by on my own usually. 

I can do a lot of things that most girls would have their male significant others do. I fixed a bottle-opener-shaped hole in my wall. I know how to replace fuses. I can grill burgers like a champ. I know how to fly-fish for gods sake, but I cannot fix my holey bathroom ceiling by myself, landlord. 

I was very whiny and persistent and they said he'd come back on Monday. I'm pretty sure they did that to make me stop calling them. The problem was that this was on Saturday. I didn't get to use the shower for like two days. It was horrible and I hated it. 

Anyway, my ceiling is fixed now thanks to my maintenance guy. I gave him a fist bump and told him thanks. I'm pretty sure I weirded him out. 

Whatever. 

Right now, I'm kind of chilling out in the library and avoiding thinking about work. I do not want to go to work. Do not want. 

See, I usually enjoy my job. Making stir fry is the bees knees or some other saying that means cool, but is more relevant socially. Fly? Swag? YOLO?

I don't know. 

But, no, whenever the weather is good, people decide to make the trek out to Elliot, the dining hall where I work. And the weather is really good today, guys. 

Work is going to suck, hardcore. It sucked yesterday too. I worked in the dishroom, so it was already less fun than usual. But we had so many people. Usually, we have like two-hundred and some-odd customers. That's a usual night for us. Last night we had 380, which is just insane. We haven't had that much since thanksgiving dinner last semester. 

I saw dishes in my dreams last night, guys. I'm pretty sure there is still nacho cheese lodged underneath my fingernails. 

Working in dining is so very glamorous. 

Later.