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.

The Five Things No One Tells You About College

One week left to go of sophomore year, you guys. One more week. And then I am free to be unemployed and poor in the comfort of my own home instead of unemployed and poor at college

Hoo-rah.

So, as of next week, I will personally be halfway done with my college education with a degree in journalism/telecommunication/advertising/graphic design/criminal justice/sociology. (Mostly criminal justice, but hey. I've majored in all of those things, so whatever.) So I think I'm a credible source so far as college and stuff goes. I'm part of that culture, or whatever you want to call it. I'm cool, I'm hip, I'm part of the target audience that the Twilight movies tried (and failed) to market to.

(Mostly, the Twilight movies ended up being marketed to 13 year old girls and middle-aged women unsatisfied with their marriages. I was an advertising major for nine days. I know these things.)

Anyway, I was bored and thinking about college as, you know, a concept. I came up with five things that I really wish someone would have told me before I came here and my life got all screwed up.

Without further ado...

The Five Things No One Tells You About College

1. The Monopoly Money Effect

Unless you are one of the lucky few with rich parents who are also generous, you will be paying for college yourself. Just, an FYI...college is stupid expensive.

I know I'm probably the first person to tell you this awful, awful fact, but it's true. I could sell all of the organs in my body on the Taiwanese black market and still be in debt after college. I know. I checked.

(My debt adds about 75 cents a day in interest to my rather impressive running total. So...there's that.)

I'm paying for my degree with stupent loans (which is a combination of the words "student loans" and "stupid loans" because they are both things. Stupid, I mean. And also for students.) It's pretty cool because I just sign a piece of paper and them I get all of this money. Money for books! Money for food! Money for netflixs!

Money that I, eventually, am supposed to pay back. That part, the whole "this is not my money to have for keeps, this is my money to use right now and then give back later" doesn't really seem all that important right now. It's like monopoly money. It's not like real human money that I need to pay back. It's colorful paper money that charges interest in fun not in dollars.

That's a lie. It does charge interest in dollars. So now I have negative dollars Which is, like, the opposite of fun.

But, right now, it's hard to visualize the pile of money that I owe my school. Instead, I visualize the pile of xbox games I could buy with the money I owe my school. And v-neck tees. I look awesome in v-neck tees.

So, yeah. Monopoly money. Except, in this scenario Free Parking is actually $2,000 per semester parking and the Community Chest gives you free rape whistles instead of cash.

Like I said...college is weird.

2. Motivation is Hard

In high school, there was always someone there to tell you to get your shit done. Be it your parents, your teachers or your guidance counselor, there was always someone there telling you that you had to do your homework before you were allowed to take naps and eat pizza.

I mean, you could ignore them if you tried hard enough, but there were always around. Like gnats. Or very over-involved prison wardens. It was really hard to not do things in high school because there was always someone there to give you shit about not doing it.

But in college, you can do what you want. Want to sleep through your 11:00 class? That's fine! Whatever, bro...we know you have other things going on. No one is going to come remind you that you have a test you didn't study for or an essay exam that you're currently sleeping through. That's your business.

You have to make yourself study and make yourself go to class and make yourself not eat ice cream and pizza rolls for every meal. And it's really hard. Why would I go to class when instead I can stay in my dorm all day, not put on real pants and play xbox for literally fourteen hours without stopping?

That's one of the many reasons why college is awesome. And why so many people flunk out.

3. Graduating is Confusing

Have you filled out forms w, 92, button and a² + b² = c²? Have you taken all your classes in perfectly sequential order? Have you filed out a zoning permit for the ground you are currently standing on? Have you slaughtered a goat to the the old gods? 

Oh, you slaughtered it on a Tuesday...yikes. I'm afraid only goats sacrificed during full moons that fall on Wednesday are admissible. 

So sorry, but it looks like you aren't going to graduate this year! Try again next time. 

This is how it feels. This is exactly how it feels. It is way too complicated to graduate. In high school, people were always hounding you and making sure you had the right credits and all the other stuff you needed to graduate. Here, they just kind of shrug and say "everything will probably be okay, probably." 

You know what? They are probably lying to you, probably.

As someone who had majored in a stupid number of different things, I am well acquainted with the guidance office and the people who work there. Their favorite things to do are to put you on hold, transfer your call and "accidentally" loose your paperwork. 

Sometimes, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be in college forever. Literally. 

4. Be Yourself (Plus a Million)

For many people, college is the first time they've really been without adult supervision. They are free to do whatever they want and nobody can tell them no. Little Jimmy can dance if he wants to, he can leave his friends behind because his Dad isn't there anymore to tell him that he needs to stop dancing and go outside to play with the other kids.

Every little bad or annoying thing about a person is magnified by, like, a thousand in college. In high school, I was sort of antisocial and I was kind of into video games. Now, I very rarely leave my dorm and spend a good three hours a day xboxing (that's the verb form of playing xbox not, you know, boxing with the letter x).

Kids who sort of liked photography? Yeah, say goodbye to their faces because they will be hidden behind a lens for the next four years. Kids who had a lot of boyfriends or girlfriends? They will become straight-up prostitutes. Kids who occasionally partied? They will likely never attend a class. Kids who liked going to the gym? They will never stop exercising! 

Girls who were snarky and kind of liked to blog? They turn out awesome. And sexy. And awesome.

Yeah, well...I fully support people taking happiness where they can find it, but it is, just, really annoying sometimes. People become themselves in college. But...like to an extreme degree. A disturbingly extreme degree.

5. The Bubble

College is not like the real world. Not even a little bit. In the real world, you cannot wander around at four in the morning just because you feel like it, order a pizza and them sleep until noon the next day. In college, no one judges you for that behavior. That behavior is expected. If you get up before nine in the real world, you are a normally functioning human being. You get up before nine in college, you either have a class or are still awake from the night before.

College life is a bubble. People can see you on the inside of the bubble and they sort of understand what you're doing, but something about it is off and you can't really see all that well past the soapy exterior.

The bubble is pretty cool when you're inside. Everything is pretty colors and you get free sandwiches sometimes and everyone understands the references on Glee. But when you leave the bubble, like to go home or to leave campus, everything seems sad and depressing and nobody wants to debate philosophy with you, they just want you to order your damn coffee and go. This leads to a bubble-cling effect where the people inside the bubble want nothing to do with the people outside the bubble.

The people outside the bubble are weird. They wake up too early, they don't read the same books or listen to the same music as you and it's scary because they used to be in the bubble too, didn't they? Then you start to panic about the bubble popping and what on earth you'll do when you are forcibly ejected from the bubble and are no longer allowed to ignore the people on the outside.

And that's where graduate students come from.

That's my list. Do with it what you will. I need to go see if I can score a free sandwich from some guy on the corner. Later, all.

Summer Blog 1: To Hell (or New Mexico) and Back Again

Okay....

 

So, I wasn't planning on writing any blogs this summer. I thought I'd just do a blog-haitus until school starts again. With an awesome internship and a vacation to California on the way, what did I even have to complain about? Plus, I wanted to be a network tv show...not a soap opera.

 

Turns out my life is soapier than I dare admit.

 

I just got back from what has to be the stupidest series of events that have ever happened on a vacation. Seriously, the National Lampoon Family has nothing on me right now.

 

First, our car ride there was the worst thing ever. At one point, I was convinced that we'd slipped out of New Mexico and into Hell. So, in other words, we stayed in New Mexico (thereby implying that New Mexico is hell. Bam. Joke landed.) The ride was supposed to take us 28 hours. It took us 38. Imagine 38 hours in a cargo van with seven other people who you don't particularly like all that much.

 

New Mexico. 

It was terrrible.

 

Next, I blew up my thumb. Like, not blew up like a balloon. Blew up like a damn explosion. Long story short, my uncle makes model airplanes. Like, the big ones that apparently require stupidly huge batteries. I was sitting at a table and I saw some wires. I didn't know what they were attached to nor did I really care to find out. I was bored, so I started sticking them into each other.

 

Turns out you shouldn't randomly stick black and red wires together. Beacuse they'll freaking explode.

 

I saw the fire (because there was some. And sparks. And smoke.) and I was convinced that I was straight-up going to die. I said my prayers, I was ready to go. It was the end. I had accepted it.

 

Then the fire stopped and I started to laugh because I was alive. But I also started to cry because I was terrified and my thumb freaking hurt. So, I was laughing and crying at the same time. My sister informed me that she had never been so scared of another human before.

 

So many emotions.

 

Anyway, I'd like to propose that we change the proverb from "Curiosity killed the cat" into 'Being stupid almost killed the teenage girl with 1/4 of a college degree."

My war wound. I deserve a medal. And a higher-cut shirt. 

 

We weren't even to California yet.

 

Once we got there, things got stupider.

 

For one, I decided that sunscreen was for wimps. Forget the fact that I haven't been outside for longer than twenty minutes at a time in the last six years. Yeah, that's not even a little bit important.

 

Except it totally is and, as someone who could probably pass for albino, when you don't wear sunscreen, you end up  looking less tan and more like a burn victim. All of my skin peeled off.

An anonymous burn victim. 

 

And you thought I couldn't get any more a-peeling. Ha.

 

I amuse myself.

 

Anyway, I'll skip a few of the stupid things that happened (they include my siblings informing a lifeguard that they had seen a shark, maybe, and siblings breaking my new headphones and me crying about it). Because I really need to tell you what happened at Disneyland.

 

Someone stole my new iphone. At the happiest place on earth.

 

Only me. Only me and my stupid life would get an iphone stolen on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. I never liked you, Harrison Ford, what with your stupid hair and action-hero physique.

 

I never even got to download the app that makes gun noises.

 

It's okay. I'll just shoot y'all with this real one I picked up in Texas. 

I would have used it for good and not evil, I promise.

 

But now I have to use my money made at my stupid job selling lawnmowers to buy a new stupid phone that won't be as nice as my last one.

 

Anyway, that was my vacation. It was stupid. Like my life.

 

Danielle Out.

 

Me and my stolen phone flitting around

 and being vain in happier times. 

 

Day 240 of College: Bathroom Lunchables

Today...

is a Thursday. Happy Thursday, blog readers! 

No, but seriously...that's the most exciting thing about this particular day. That it's a Thursday. 

Meh. 

I'm feeling increasingly apathetic about classes, homework, tests, ect. School in general, really. Never fear, though. I only have 23 days of college left! 

(this year, I mean)

I've been wondering...how shall I count days when I'm no longer at school? Like, this summer will I type "Day 1 of Summer?" But now I feel like all this college-day-counting was a big ole waste of time. 

Hmmm. This is something I must ponder for a while. 

So, anyway. I've recently discovered that they sell pizza lunchables in the basement of the dorm where I live. This is FANTASTIC news. So, for about the past week I've eaten little to nothing beside pizza lunchables. Oh, and leftover easter candy.

Health food! 

I'm going to have to buy more pizza lunchables this summer and somehow hide them from my hordes of siblings. 

I plan on bringing them to eat at my job so I feel all grown-up. 

Oh! Right...I haven't informed you avid blog readers about my summer employment yet! Well, in case you care (and even if you don't), I'm interning this summer at an office-type shindig. It's awesome because I can put in on my resume and make lots of money and whatnot. It's not awesome because it has real-person-job-hours. I'm working 8 to 4...every single day. 

It's like school...but I get paid twelve dollars an hour.

I'm thinking the benefits outweigh the whole working-eight-hours thing. Also, I get a lunch break. Where I can eat my pizza lunchables. 

If you can't tell, I haven't eaten yet today. So, I'm kind of fixated on this whole lunch thing. Because I'm hungry. And I want lunch. Preferably a pizza-lunchable kind of lunch.

Or any kind of lunch really. I am many things...picky is not one of them. 

So...speaking of food, I saw some girl eating Chick-Fil-A in the bathroom yesterday. It brought back memories of my junior high years. So, that was fun. And weird. Mostly weird. 

I wanted to ask her why she was eating in the bathroom. In high school or junior high, it kinda makes sense. You have to eat at a certain place at a certain time and if you don't have any friends, it can get majorly uncomfortable.

But in college, most people have houses and/or dorms. So, you can bring your food back to the place you live and eat it there. And what's more, no one is forcing you to eat at, like, a certain place or time. I could go eat some Chick-Fil-A right now! Because I'm an adult! Free to make my own choices, what what! 

But, I digress. If homegirl wants to eat in the bathroom...whatever. I'm not gonna judge. 

I'm just going to write about her on my blog. 

Danielle OUT.