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. 

A Missive from the Executive Director of Stir Fry Affairs

Well, hi there. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Things have happened, guys. So many things. 

The most relevant of those things is that I've started a new class that's really boring with a really boring professor whose only redeemable factor is that he allows me to have my computer while he drones on about criminal justice whatnot. Hence the back-from-the-dead blog. 

But, no. Seriously. I've had things going on. So many irons in fire. So many. 

I got a job. So...that's a thing. I'm in charge of all things stir fry from 4:30 to 8:30 every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday down at Elliot dining. I also do dishes sometimes, but I'm more focused on the stir fry thing. I love cooking stir fry. I'm awesome and fantastic at it. 

I made up a job title for myself. I am a stir fry artist. Or the executive director of stir fry affairs. Not gonna lie...my boss does not appreciate these titles as much as he should. Mostly he looks tired and rolls his eyes. I'm great. I don't know what his problem is.  

I'm also in three online classes this semester. It allows me to bring my procrastination to impressive new levels. I can do all my classwork in my batman footie pajamas while watching cartoons and eating grilled cheese. 

You should all be jealous of my totally awesome life choices. 

Speaking of awesome life choices, I accidentally went waaaaaaaay over my data plan with my cellphone so...now I owe the phone company like 800 dollars. I would just like to say that this is totally not my fault. Ball State's wifi apparently has an aversion to, I don't know, actually working. So all of my awesome music listening is now threatening to bankrupt me. 

I mean, like, more than I've already been bankrupted. 

Lucky thing I have a job. 

I mean, I only got the job to buy myself a new computer. (FYI, I did buy a new computer. And it's awesome. I've played so many games on it. All the games.) But now it seems like my job will do what most other people's jobs do. You know, pay for my food and my rent and stuff. Ick. I hate being a vaguely responsible adult. 

My professor is off on a tangent about both kings and antibiotics. I...did not know those things overlapped, historically speaking. I also have no idea what it has to do with criminal justice. 

But I digress. I kind of haven't been paying even a little bit of attention. Like, I've been the opposite of paying attention. I've been actively trying not to absorb the information being presented. Kind of like I do when someone tries to explain a sport to me. 

I have literally no clue what goes on in any sort of sports game...tournament...thing. And I am proud of that. That is a point of pride for me. 

Moving on...

I turn 21 next month. And we all know what that means....

I can legally apply for a marriage licene in Mississippi without parental consent!!!

Wooo!!!

There's also the drinking and gambling bit, but I'm less excited about that. Drinking and gambling are things that require you to leave your totally awesome apartment and interact with society. And that's not cool, bro. 

Society sucks. 

Trust me on this, I'm a professional. I'm almost done with a sociology degree. Legit. One class left and then I can go and do whatever it is someone with a bachelor's degree in sociology does. 

Be unemployed? 

Continue to make stir fry? 

I wouldn't complain. I like making stir fry. I am the executive director of stir fry affairs.

Wow. Class is almost over. 

I probably should have payed attention. 

Alas, it is too late. And we should not regret the things we cannot change. Gandhi said that. Or something like that.

Probably. 

I should go. (hehe) 

Drug Trafficking and YOU

Greetings, blog readers. So...it's been a while.

Like a couple of months. I've been busy.

Don't look at me like that...I have. I've been doing so many productive things and making so many friends....

Okay, okay, you caught me.

I bought an xbox.

So...technically I have been busy. Just not busy in a positive way. Unless you count playing Skyrim for like 8 hours a day as a positive way to be busy.

Moving on...my video game playing has led to some crazy escapades. And by crazy escapades, I mean me injuring myself while doing something stupid. Again.

All I was trying to do was hang up a kickass Batman poster because my room was boring (it's not boring anymore. Now it has a kickass Batman poster). So, I was doing that. Just chilling in my room and standing on a desk and hanging up my poster. I got it all stuck to the wall and I was like, "yeah! this Batman poster looks awesome! no more crime for my room, no sir!"

So, I was all excited and whatnot. I was going to hop off my desk, head downstairs and get some celebratory grape jello. That didn't happen. I jumped from my desk to my bed...and it all went downhill from there. See, I can't jump very far in real life. In video games, I'm a world-class jumper. I could jump the crap outta any jump-related situation. In real life, not so much. Long story short, one of my legs ended up on the bed and the other ended up on the floor. I inadvertently did the splits and suddenly walking wasn't really in the cards for me.

I've been limping around like some sort of demented pirate for the past two weeks. It's made my walking class rather difficult.

That's just one of the wacky and depressing things I've been up to. I also had the stomach flu on Thanksgiving and dressed as Batgirl some more. So...you know. Average Danielle-type things that I've been doing.

Right now, I'm in class. Criminology to be precise. My professor sucks. A lot. Today we're talking about cocaine trafficking and prostitution. Fun topic, right? WRONG! She's making it SO BORING!

How does one make prostitution and cocaine boring? I don't know! It's like a recipie for fun and debauchery! Or a kickass movie! It should be like Scarface up in here and instead I'm so effing bored that I'm stabbing myself in the leg with a pencil just to stay awake.

I should really be teaching this class instead. I'd wear my Batsuit and bring in a real live prostitute for the students to look at (don't touch...they bite!). I really am so much better at things than most people.

Gah, I should go.

I've probably got lead poisoning from all the pencil-leg-stabbing I've done.

So, if I die in the next few hours...that's probably why.

Day 167 of College: Ready, Set, Debt!

Today...


I almost bought an ENFORCER on ebay! 


Then some jerk outbid me. Jerk. 


I have about, eh, $900 in my bank account right now. And while that may sound like a lot for a poor college student to have in her bank account...it's student-loan-money. So someday I'm going to have to pay all that money back. Also, interest. Lots and lots of interest. 


I had to take debt counseling classes online this summer. I'm totally serious. It was terrible. I'm already in thousands of dollars of debt...now you're going to make me take classes about being in debt too? 


Jerks. 


Anyway, if you wanted to see a fully compiled list of the annoying bitc...ahem, girls you meet at college, you can find it here. 


Moving on to other things...


Guess who has two oddly short thumbs and no boyfriend? 


...don't make me say it. 


Oh, fine. THIS GIRL. 


This girl is also coming up on the worst month of the year. February. 


I hate February for three very justifiable reasons. I also hate it for about three-dozen non-justifiable reasons, but I won't bore you with those. 


1. It can't spell February. So far, google chrome had corrected my attempts at spelling February to "fur brewery" and "fib rarely." So there's that reason. 


2. My birthday is in February. The 11th, to be exact. I am not someone who enjoys getting older. Not one bit. Because, really, every year I have to say I've spent another year of my life single. And, once you tell people you're 19 years single...they're going to start to ask what's wrong with you. (Beyond the obvious, of course.) 


3. Need I even type it? Valenti...ahem, SAD day is in February. (For those of you not in the know or in happy relationships, SAD day is Single's Awareness Day...day.) 


On the bright side, that is the one day a year that I can lie in bed like a slug all day, eat an entire quart of cookie dough ice cream, and listen to "I Can't Make You Love Me" on repeat and none of you are allowed to judge me. 


People will look at me and say "What the hell are you doing?" 


And I say, "I'm single." 


And then they flinch sympathetically and skip off to have a day filled with candy hearts and happiness. 


I know I'm starting this whole "countdown to Single's Awareness Day day" thing pretty early...but I'm pacing myself. We're gonna build up slowly, don't you worry. 


Anyway. There's homework and SAD day prepping to be done. 


Danielle OUT.