Today...
Was basically the worst. Actually, this whole week has been the worst. So...you know how I have "spring break" this week? You don't? Your life has more important things in it than my school schedule?
Ha, right.
But, anyhow, this week is spring break for me. And this week my entire family, literally all of them, decided that it would be ideal week to come down with a crippling case of the stomach flu. Awesome timing, family. Really, really AWESOME TIMING.
Apparently, I am immune to this particular strain of flu. And you'd think that it would be a good thing, me not getting all pukey like rest of the Renckly clan. That is a hideously erroneous assumption, blog readers. I'd much rather be throw-up-y all week than forced to play nurse for my entire freaking family.
My family are all stupid whiners.
And I have exactly zero maternal or caring instincts. Those things are for wussies.
So, in conclusion, my spring break has equaled up to a huge, festering pile of suck so far. Mostly, when not caring for the sick and whiny, I've been sitting on my couch watching the entire first through fourth seasons of Gossip Girl and eating unhealthy amounts of ice cream because it's my spring break and I deserve to have some fun, dammit.
Don't ask me why I thought watching Gossip Girl of all things would be fun. I don't know. And it wasn't.
It mostly made me painfully aware that I am nineteen years single and none of the characters on Gossip Girl are. Also, that I hate the rich. Stupid, selfish one percent.
Speaking of my struggle to remain in the lower middle class, I've decided that I'm going to say screw it to getting a useful college degree and major in writing.
Goodbye, last leg to stand on when taunting art and psychology majors!
But, anyhow, that's happening. I'm basically an idiot! Yeah!
But, we already knew that, didn't we blog readers?
Yes, yes we did.
Well, I'm off to ignore the calls of my unwell family members and watch the fifth season of Gossip Girl.
I hate Gossip Girl.
So, so much.
Danielle OUT.
Showing posts with label major. Show all posts
Showing posts with label major. Show all posts
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Day 184 of College: Russian Super Tortoises
Today...
It's a study day. And, because it's a study day, I'm sitting in the library and typing a blog to avoid doing actual work! Huzzah!
This seems to be a pattern for me. Most of the blogs you read were, in fact, written during my anthropology class or during my "study days."
But, today, I actually should be studying. Because, my first test in my anthropology class is tomorrow and, as I've previously stated, I am rarely listening in my anthropology class and more often am just typing a blog and nodding thoughtfully if the professor happens to look my way.
So, I literally know nothing about anthropology. Other than the fact that it's a particularly long word. I only took the class because I need a science class to graduate and someone told me that there was no math involved.
Math is the worst. Also, morning classes are worst. Guess who has a math class at 8 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays?
I'm not even going to bother typing "this girl" because we all know that it, in fact, is. My 8 am math class also happens to be my only class on Tuesdays and Thursdays and, due to my intense love of napping and my crippling facebook addiction, I don't get a lot done on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Hence today's study day.
Anyhow, the major question has once again come up. Stupid major question. It's like a greedy drunk ex-boyfriend, always showing up when I least expect it. Granted, I have never had an ex-boyfriend, greedy, drunk or otherwise, so I'm mostly going off of blind conjecture and lifetime movies.
But, yeah. I'm thinking criminal justice because 1. I would be a kickass lawyer and 2. I would be a kickass cop.
The world would be a safer place if I had a law degree, a gun and a police car. Don't you agree?
Who cares if you agree? I'm going to go and get a stupid college degree just so I can fulfill a petty, childish whim. It's almost like I'm a musical theatre major! Boom.
(Seriously, though. I love you, musical theatre majors. If I had parents to pay for my college or the brains/talent/political clout needed to get a scholarship, I'd totally be a musical theatre major too. Or a glass blowing major because, what the hell.)
My attempts to learn Russian are, sadly, not going all the well. The un-english looking letters are seriously hard to pronounce. I try and sound like I have a frog in my throat. And I don't mean that as a figure of speech. I mean that as I sound like I am literally choking on a live amphibian.
I had a pet frog once. His name was Lysander. He ate a cricket that was bigger than him and died.
All my pets seem to die horrible deaths.
Except Pope John Paul, of course. Pope John Paul is immortal. And he has super powers. He's the Russian Desert Tortoise version of Superman.
True story.
Danielle OUT.
It's a study day. And, because it's a study day, I'm sitting in the library and typing a blog to avoid doing actual work! Huzzah!
This seems to be a pattern for me. Most of the blogs you read were, in fact, written during my anthropology class or during my "study days."
But, today, I actually should be studying. Because, my first test in my anthropology class is tomorrow and, as I've previously stated, I am rarely listening in my anthropology class and more often am just typing a blog and nodding thoughtfully if the professor happens to look my way.
So, I literally know nothing about anthropology. Other than the fact that it's a particularly long word. I only took the class because I need a science class to graduate and someone told me that there was no math involved.
Math is the worst. Also, morning classes are worst. Guess who has a math class at 8 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays?
I'm not even going to bother typing "this girl" because we all know that it, in fact, is. My 8 am math class also happens to be my only class on Tuesdays and Thursdays and, due to my intense love of napping and my crippling facebook addiction, I don't get a lot done on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Hence today's study day.
Anyhow, the major question has once again come up. Stupid major question. It's like a greedy drunk ex-boyfriend, always showing up when I least expect it. Granted, I have never had an ex-boyfriend, greedy, drunk or otherwise, so I'm mostly going off of blind conjecture and lifetime movies.
But, yeah. I'm thinking criminal justice because 1. I would be a kickass lawyer and 2. I would be a kickass cop.
The world would be a safer place if I had a law degree, a gun and a police car. Don't you agree?
Who cares if you agree? I'm going to go and get a stupid college degree just so I can fulfill a petty, childish whim. It's almost like I'm a musical theatre major! Boom.
(Seriously, though. I love you, musical theatre majors. If I had parents to pay for my college or the brains/talent/political clout needed to get a scholarship, I'd totally be a musical theatre major too. Or a glass blowing major because, what the hell.)
My attempts to learn Russian are, sadly, not going all the well. The un-english looking letters are seriously hard to pronounce. I try and sound like I have a frog in my throat. And I don't mean that as a figure of speech. I mean that as I sound like I am literally choking on a live amphibian.
I had a pet frog once. His name was Lysander. He ate a cricket that was bigger than him and died.
All my pets seem to die horrible deaths.
Except Pope John Paul, of course. Pope John Paul is immortal. And he has super powers. He's the Russian Desert Tortoise version of Superman.
True story.
Danielle OUT.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Day 155 of College: Vodka Wal-Mart
Today...
I've noticed some things about college. College girls in particular. To be particularly particular, the college girls who go to Ball State. To put it plainly...
They're all terrible people and I don't like them.
Yep. There are reasons.Some Most of the reasons are terribly petty. I am a teenaged girl after all. Pettiness is kind of a reinging theme in teenage-girl-dom.
There are 4 kinds of girls that I've noticed during my time here. I will list them for your reading pleasure:
1. The Fake Alcoholic
The Fake Alcoholic is one of the most annoying types of college females. She will go out between the hours of eight and midnight and go somewhere, presumably Wal-Mart, for an hour or so. Then she will go back to her dorm, apartment or cardboard box and slur out the claim "Omigod, I am so wasted."
NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU FAKER! You can't get wasted walking around Wal-Mart. You can get sad. You can get very, very sad. BUT YOU CAN'T GET "SOOO WASTED." You don't smell like vodka...you smell like a combination of sweat, desperation and sample cheeses. WE KNOW. WE ALL KNOW.
2. The Real Alcoholic
This one is sad. Just like Wal-Mart. She will go out, procure liquor (lick her? I barely know her!) and drink it alone in her room. She doesn't go to class. She does go to parties. She goes to A LOT of parties. More parties than me! That's just crazy-talk! (Expect it isn't. I went to one party this year and spent most of it watching the history channel. Woo.)
The Alcoholic will usually smell suspiciously like Wal-Mart. But not normal Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart smells like sadness, sweat, desperation, sample cheeses and imagination. Because it isn't real. I wish it was.
3. The Super Streetwalker
Her name says it all! If it stays still long enough, she will try to hit it. Not in the violence way. In the streetwalkery way. She likes parties and boys. And girls. And the occasional canary.
Why a canary? CAUSE SHE'S A HOOKER, THAT'S WHY.
Also, she may be a stripper. We may never know.
4. The Psychology Major
Yes, there are some people out there who actually want to get a doctorate in psychology and pursue it as a career. These are not the people I'm talking about. That all cleared up? Yes? Good.
Now, the psychology major is your typically dumb high school girl except now she's in college. She can't decide what to major in. "Well, psychology sounds sorta fun...and I'm super good at giving all my BFFs dating advice...I have a gift!"
No you don't. You don't have a gift. You don't even have a fully functioning brain. And, sweetie, you shouldn't be majoring in something YOU CAN'T SPELL.
(Little known fact...that's why telecommunications majors call it T-Comm. Multisyllabic words don't go over well with the T-Comm crowd....I hate my major.)
So...this list started to get unwieldy. We'll finish it in the next blog, shall we?
Don't answer. You don't get a say. Now fetch me a turkey leg and some feta cheese, will you?
I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER. To Vodka Taco Bell with you! (Vodka Taco Bell is not a happy place. It sounds like it would be...but it really isn't. Mostly it's just normal Taco Bell.)
In other news, I'm currently on the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train once again. I hate the stupid I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train. It's unfun and stressful. My stupid family. They're all teachers. You know how people have "family professions?" Yeah, well, my family's profession is teaching. THEY ALL THINK SPENDING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF TIME WITH CHILDREN IS A GOOD IDEA. They're crazy people.
Woo woo
Oh, sorry. That was just the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train letting me know that it's getting ready to leave. I better go get on else I'll be stuck at McDonald's station.
Or majoring in Psychology.
Hahaha. I jest.
(Or do I?)
Danielle OUT.
I've noticed some things about college. College girls in particular. To be particularly particular, the college girls who go to Ball State. To put it plainly...
They're all terrible people and I don't like them.
Yep. There are reasons.
There are 4 kinds of girls that I've noticed during my time here. I will list them for your reading pleasure:
1. The Fake Alcoholic
The Fake Alcoholic is one of the most annoying types of college females. She will go out between the hours of eight and midnight and go somewhere, presumably Wal-Mart, for an hour or so. Then she will go back to her dorm, apartment or cardboard box and slur out the claim "Omigod, I am so wasted."
NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU FAKER! You can't get wasted walking around Wal-Mart. You can get sad. You can get very, very sad. BUT YOU CAN'T GET "SOOO WASTED." You don't smell like vodka...you smell like a combination of sweat, desperation and sample cheeses. WE KNOW. WE ALL KNOW.
2. The Real Alcoholic
This one is sad. Just like Wal-Mart. She will go out, procure liquor (lick her? I barely know her!) and drink it alone in her room. She doesn't go to class. She does go to parties. She goes to A LOT of parties. More parties than me! That's just crazy-talk! (Expect it isn't. I went to one party this year and spent most of it watching the history channel. Woo.)
The Alcoholic will usually smell suspiciously like Wal-Mart. But not normal Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart. Vodka Wal-Mart smells like sadness, sweat, desperation, sample cheeses and imagination. Because it isn't real. I wish it was.
3. The Super Streetwalker
Her name says it all! If it stays still long enough, she will try to hit it. Not in the violence way. In the streetwalkery way. She likes parties and boys. And girls. And the occasional canary.
Why a canary? CAUSE SHE'S A HOOKER, THAT'S WHY.
Also, she may be a stripper. We may never know.
4. The Psychology Major
Yes, there are some people out there who actually want to get a doctorate in psychology and pursue it as a career. These are not the people I'm talking about. That all cleared up? Yes? Good.
Now, the psychology major is your typically dumb high school girl except now she's in college. She can't decide what to major in. "Well, psychology sounds sorta fun...and I'm super good at giving all my BFFs dating advice...I have a gift!"
No you don't. You don't have a gift. You don't even have a fully functioning brain. And, sweetie, you shouldn't be majoring in something YOU CAN'T SPELL.
(Little known fact...that's why telecommunications majors call it T-Comm. Multisyllabic words don't go over well with the T-Comm crowd....I hate my major.)
So...this list started to get unwieldy. We'll finish it in the next blog, shall we?
Don't answer. You don't get a say. Now fetch me a turkey leg and some feta cheese, will you?
I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER. To Vodka Taco Bell with you! (Vodka Taco Bell is not a happy place. It sounds like it would be...but it really isn't. Mostly it's just normal Taco Bell.)
In other news, I'm currently on the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train once again. I hate the stupid I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train. It's unfun and stressful. My stupid family. They're all teachers. You know how people have "family professions?" Yeah, well, my family's profession is teaching. THEY ALL THINK SPENDING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF TIME WITH CHILDREN IS A GOOD IDEA. They're crazy people.
Woo woo
Oh, sorry. That was just the I-don't-know-what-to-major-in train letting me know that it's getting ready to leave. I better go get on else I'll be stuck at McDonald's station.
Or majoring in Psychology.
Hahaha. I jest.
(Or do I?)
Danielle OUT.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
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.
(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.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Day Eight-Six of College: Aiming for the Middle
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.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
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
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
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