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. 

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. 

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. 

A Danielle by Any Other Name...

So I found out last night that all of the football players who I so kindly made stir fry for all year think my name is Jess. 

Jess? Really guys? I THOUGHT WHAT WE HAD WAS SPECIAL! I have cooked you dinner, like, a hundred times and you don't even know my name. My feelings...are so hurt right now. 

Not actually. 

Because it's not like I even kind of know any of their names. I know them by their orders. Oh, that guy? Sure I know that guy! That's beef, teryaki sauce, no veggies and white rice guy! And him? Oh, he's all three meats with General Tso's and noodles! 

But it was kind of funny, because when I told them my name wasn't Jess they were all surprisingly distressed about it. They made me tell them what my name started with so they could guess what it was. 

They guessed several very outlandish words that started with D before I took pity on them and told them my name. 

They got through Diamond, Dave and something that sounded vaguely like Dorkle before guessing Danielle. 

I kind of wanted to say yes to Diamond, though. Diamond is a kickass name. I would be really okay with someone thinking my name was Diamond. 

It's better than stupid Jess. 

In other news about my name and my job, everyone there has slowly but surely taken to calling me Dani. I'd just like to point out that I never asked them to call me Dani. I never referred to myself as Dani. The word Dani has never come out of my mouth other than following the words "Don't call me..." 

I have no clue why it's happing. 

And I don't know how I feel about it? 

I mean, I have always disliked the name Danielle. The name Danielle is stupid. I'd go by my middle name if I could, but my middle name is even stupider. 

So...Dani is a thing that's happening? I guess? We can see where it goes? 

In other news, I'm judging a speech meet this weekend. It sucks because I have to wake up early. Like, insanely early. Like, early as in "I usually go to bed like an hour after this" early. Whatever. It's worth it though because it gives me, just, an insane amount of power over a group of high schoolers. 

With a stroke of my mighty judging pen, I get to decide if their day is good or terrible. I am the decider of things and scores and whatnot! 

I'm quite excited, guys. It almost makes up for the insane earliness that I am being forced to deal with. I might just not sleep. I do that with alarming regularity. 

I like to claim I'm an insomniac. What I really am is a person with incredibly poor decision-making skills. 

Look at my track record. Look at all of my majors. 

There really is no arguing with those kinds of results, guys. Or, I mean, there could be arguing but it would be really futile and useless and blah blah blah. 

Speaking of lack of sleep things, I had a midterm essay due this morning. I'd like to claim that the account of me writing the essay that follows is due to the fact that I forgot about it or something, but that would be a lie. 

I didn't forget. I was super aware of the fact that I had a midterm essay due for several days beforehand. But because I'm a moron, I didn't start until two in the morning, like, eight hours before it was due. 

Professors really need to stop referring to assignments as things I "can't finish the night before." Some part of my special-snowflake-Danielle-brand of crazy takes that as a challenge. Don't underestimate me, professors. I once wrote a twenty page research paper the night before it was due. 

I'm impressive in the worst possible way. 

Honestly, my grades on my slapdash awful papers are usually pretty good. Better than grades people who actually spend time on their assignments and, I don't know, try. 

Imagine what I could do if I spent more time on my assignments. If I started actually writing rough drafts and editing...I might actually be able to take over the world, guys. 

But, then again, there are some pretty interesting documentaries about sharks I've been meaning to watch...

So I should probably do that before I get on with my world domination. 

You know. Priorities.