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. 

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. 

One Does Not Simply Get an Internship

Yesterday I had to walk a mile and a half with cold mashed potatoes in my shoes. No, I have not pledged to some sort of strange fraternity or sorority or whatever. It's just another side effect of my lovely job. 

My paycheck is another side effect, but that one is one I actually, you know, like. 

So here's what happened. I was just chilling, doing my thing and putting dishes back. Then, some puny little high schooler tripped and dropped a plate of mashed potatoes on my shoes. 

I would just like to ask...

Why do you have an entire plate of mashed potatoes??? Are you a hobbit or something? An Irishman in the 1800s? An Irish hobbit? No one likes potatoes that much. They're awful and starchy and the ones at my work are not made from real potatoes, they're made from awkward potato flakes that come in a big box. 

The worst part was what the kid said afterwards. He just looked at me and went, "looks like you got potatoed." 

Potato is not a verb. It is not even sort of a verb. YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE UP WORDS LIKE THAT. SOCIETY HAS RULES FOR A REASON AND ONE OF THOSE RULES IS THAT YOU DON'T JUST MAKE UP WORDS LIKE THAT!!!!

It isn't a verb. 

I, he, she, we potato. 

Just...no. 

The worst part was walking home. I am too stubborn to take buses. I am too stubborn to accept rides. It's a character flaw. I'll admit it. 

And it led to me walking in squishy mashed potato shoes. Ugh. It was horrid. 

Speaking of things that are horrid...I have to talk to my internship coordinator this week. Here's the thing...I don't want to coordinate an internship. Last time I interned, I ended up hiding in a warehouse, stalking a hot boy and being renamed Jennifer. 

It was a weird time in my life. 

But, no. They're going to ask me what I want to do with my life. I don't know. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Um...finish my degree? I guess? I'm not actually all that interested in it? 

Yeah, this is going to go really well. 

And by really well, I mean I'm probably going to get yelled at. I hate getting yelled at. For whatever reason, people just seem to like yelling at me though. Do I just have one of those faces? One of those faces that you just want to yell at?

Ugh. I really don't know what to do here. My life is stupid and college is stupid and internships are stupid and I really don't want to sell lawn mowers again. 

I was so bad at it. 

I built a fort, hid in the warehouse and played games on my iphone. I did a terrible job. I can admit that. That's something I can admit now. I was the intern from hell or at least somewhere hell-adjacent. 

I don't want to inflict myself on anyone. 

I also don't want to leave my apartment. I like my apartment. There are waffles there and tea that I ordered from teavana and my best friend/xbox. 

Anyway, moving on from all of that bound-to-be-unpleasantness...more unpleasantness! 

There is supposed to be some sort of all-the-snow storm tonight. While I'm at work. And, because of my aforementioned refusal to take the bus or accept rides, I'm going to have to trek home in that. I DON'T WANT TO. I REALLY DON'T WANT TO. Also, I forgot my hat so my unnaturally small ears will be sad and cold. And sad. 

You know, once winter is over, I am going to have literally nothing to complain about. 

I should go. 

The snow awaits. 

How (Not) to Make Good Life Choices

The weather's up to double digits, you guys.

 #heatwave

There is supposedly a giant monster storm headed my way next week. So...that sucks. I almost want to have kids someday for the sole purpose of telling them I walked miles uphill in the snow to go to school and work. 

Because I legitimately do! There are hills involved in my walk. I have a hole in my favorite pair of shoes. I own a newsboy cap. I am essentially an orphan in the 1930s. 

So...valentines day is coming up.

Ugh.

I happens to be the weekend after my birthday. I plan on going up to Purdue and going to the bars with my friends. It's probably really sad that going to bars is less unhealthy than my usual coping methods. They involve me literally hiding under my bed and eating a pint of ice cream while listening to I Can't Make You Love Me on repeat. For hours.

Eh...I actually care less about the whole perpetually-single thing than I used to. I mean, even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't know what to do with him. I'd be like, "hey there, significant other! is it cool if we only see each other three days a week or whatever? and when we do see each other, is it okay if I mostly ignore you?" Because seeing the same person every day of the week for hours at a time...ugh. 

That sounds all kinds of horrible. 

Moving on...I made the executive decision last night to not sleep. I had to read, like, twelve court cases for my sociology of law class and write summaries and critiques on them. You know, it would have been fine if I would of started right when I got off work at 9. But I decided that watching a documentary about killer whales on netflix was something that I had to do before I could start. 

I don't know. It wasn't a good life choice. 

But, yes. I didn't finish until like 6 in the AM, so I just didn't sleep. Again, I don't know why I did that. It was another poor life choice. 

When I got home from classes at 1, the coffee wore off  and I just crashed. It was almost embarrassing. I don't think I've ever been as happy to see anything as I was to see my bed after I got home. And when I say I completely crashed, I mean it. I slept for seven hours with my coat, hat, gloves, shoes and backpack still on. 

When I woke up, I was very confused. I didn't know where I was. My scarf was sort of choking me. I was sort of sure I'd been kidnapped. 

I don't know why anyone would want to kidnap me, honestly. I have no money and no marketable skills. Other than my ability to cook stir fry. Someone might kidnap me for my stir fry skills. 

Anyway, speaking of my job...when I get bored at work, I like to do weird stuff with the food in my line. It's not creepy weird, it's just strange. Like, I'll make towers out of country fried steaks or see how many frozen shrimps I can stack on top of each other. 

(My record is five.) 

But, no. Yesterday I built a tiny and adorable little city out of corn on the cobs. Or, erm, corn cobs, I guess is what normal people call them. Whatever. I had my corn on the cob city and it was great. I decided that its name was Cornatopia. And, I don't know, I thought that was really, really, extremely funny. 

I had to go sit down in the store room for a little while because I couldn't stop laughing and it was alarming people. Nobody else could seem to comprehend just how funny it was. Cornatopia. It's just...I don't even...it's so funny! How can you not laugh helplessly about that for like a quarter of an hour?

I'm not the weird one here. 

This isn't the first time my emotions at my job have succeeded at making others uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I cook things that have onions in them my eyes will water. My customers, who are mainly high schoolers, always get really freaked out and try to talk to me about my feelings. 

Sometimes, I tell them about the onions. Other times, I just roll with it and let random sixteen year olds go all therapist on me. 

I am not a good person. 

I am also a person who really needs to go make some circus waffles with my circus waffle maker. You see, I was far too busy sleeping today to eat. So...yes. I'm off to do that. 

Tales from Fort Danielle

So…Danielle here.

Let’s admit it. I’ve been lax this summer. There have been no blogs. No blogs at all.

But, come on…lawn mowers don’t sell themselves (I, in fact, don’t do so well selling them either. That’s a thing lawn mowers and I have in common, apparently.)

But, I’m bored.

And I’m out of things to do again. Out of all the things. And now I have…let’s see…four and a half hours to kill. AND NOTHING TO KILL THEM WITH. I’ve worn out the sword that was busy work. I have done all the busy work. I am no longer busy.

This is TERRIBLE.

Four more days of work, people. 32 more hours (well, 36.5 hours if you count the rest of today.). 2,190 more minutes to kill.

DIE, MINUTES DIE!

Well, I suppose I could go ask my supervisor if she has anything else for me to do…

Nah. I’ll probably just take some old invoices and make more paper airplanes. I’ve gotten rather good at paper airplanes this summer.

In fact, my paper airplanes are bitchin.

So, be jealous. I’ve wasted my whole summer and only got a lot of money and bitchin paper airplanes out of it.

So, moving on to some unfortunate tidings.

I’ve had to decommission Fort Danielle.

It was a sad day. Hot warehouse boy named Ethan went back to Illinois to be with his fiancée (she’s ugly. I bet she’s ugly).

See, Hot warehouse boy named Ethan was really the whole reason Fort Danielle came to exist. See, I saw hot warehouse boy named Ethan and hid in the top part of the warehouse to watch him and his sexy, sexy self. As the days passed, I created a fort with boxes, broken file cainets and an unused go-kart. It had a chair and a box for foot-resting and a peep hole for Ethan-stalking.

It was a dream. A beautiful, impossible dream.

Ethan thought my name was Jennifer. Seriously. Like, the first day we met he waved and said "See you tomorrow, Jennifer!" I was so amazed that he acknowledged me that I kinda didn't bother correcting him on the whole my-name-is-Danielle-not-

Jennifer bit.

And they say it's not good manners to correct your future husband anyway. So, it kinda spiraled out of control from there. I would go out of my way to keep people from addressing me as Danielle (you know, my name) in front of hot warehouse boy Ethan.

It got real complicated real fast.

I would have changed my name to Jennifer if we got married. Seriously. And I don't even like that name.

Anyway. Ethan's gone now, back in Illinois with his one-eyed, acne-faced finacee. So I no longer have to fear my name. I was thinking about pulling a Voldemort. Going by an intimidating moniker. She-who-should-not-be-poked or something. I dunno.

God, I'm tired. This job requires like an hour of driving to get to and the day starts at 8 for me, so I have to wake up at 6. It's like high school. Only with lawn mowers.

I fell asleep at my desk the other day. I mean, I doze sometimes, but this was hardcore sleeping. I was out. I may have snored. I don't know. I did drool. I know because the expense reports I was supposed to be filing were sticking to my face.

Anyway, my least favorite office mate walked by my office. I sprang up from the desk and shouted "I HAVE A HEADACHE!" in my best project-around-the-whole-

auditorium voice from high school. 

My whole office was actuely, painfully aware that I, Danielle L Renckly, had a headache, dammit. I was not going to stand for this. I was going to shout about it and make sure eveyone else had a headache too.

Thing is, I didn't have a headache. My head felt fine. My head was awesome. I have no idea why my subconcious mind thought the best thing to shout at that particular moment was "I have a headache!"

It's okay if you don't understand. I don't and neither did the rest of my office. For the rest of the day, they all treated me like a bomb that might shout mean words at them if they looked at me funny. They don't seem to realize I'm like that all of the time.

Anyway, I should. This blog has sucessfully managed to gobble a half hour of my life.

36 left.

...I could write 72 more blogs...

No.

No.

Be strong.

Okay.

Jennifer...ahem...Danielle Out.

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.

Day Seventy-Six of College: Highlighters, IHOP and Stuff

Today...


I'm tired. Like, so, so, so, so tired. Cause, I went to a party last night, dressed as a German barmaid no less. Granted, it was a Halloween party. I don't go to normal parties dressed as a German barmaid. Then again, I don't go to many normal parties. Or any, really. 


Yep. 


So, I really should go take a shower. I'm dressed in my clothes from yesterday and I have highlighter all over me. Highlighter glows like crazy in blacklights. And there were blacklights last night. So, naturally, I colored all over myself with highlighter. It made sense at the time. Also, I slept on the floor. So...a shower miiight be in order. Maybe. 


I went to IHOP this morning. I love IHOP. I love IHOP more than it's healthy for someone to love IHOP. I love IHOP like a harbor seal loves crack cocaine. That's how much I love IHOP. But, apparently, there aren't many other interesting things to do in Muncie besides going to IHOP because its always frickin crowded in that joint. Seriously. My friend and I had to wait twenty minutes to get a table. Unacceptable, IHOP wait staff. Unacceptable. 


No, but seriously. There's a lot of highlighter on me. I should go take care of that. 


Hm. I also have homework to do today. Gah. I hate homework. Also, I'm really tired. Did I mention that? I just spelled 'that' wrong...SHUT UP GOOGLE CHROME!! I WAS NOT TRYING TO SPELL THREE. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FREAKING DUMB ALL THE TIME, GOOGLE CHROME?


Maybe I should download Firefox. That'd show Google Chrome who's boss. 


I'm arguing with an internet server. That shows you about where I'm at right now. 


Okie dokie. And yes, Google-Freaking-Evil-Chrome corrected that too. But, yeah, I'm going to go take a shower. There's highlighter on me.


Danielle Out. 

Day Thirty-Nine of College: Creepy-Weird-Hand-Flippers

Today...


I hate feet. Specifically, my feet. Well, that's not true. I hate all feet really. They're like creepy-weird-hand-flippers. But, back to my feet. My entire family has creepy-long finger-toes. Seriously. Most of my toes are longer than my pinky. I hate looking at them. Can you get toe-related plastic-surgery? I bet you can. People with freaky long noses can get normal noses. Why can't I get normal-length toes? 


Also, why can't I have naturally blue hair? Is that too much to ask? 


Stupid laws of nature. 


Also, I'm still single. Just throwin that out there.


I also hate doing laundry. Laundry sucks. I mean, college-laundry sucks worst of all. You have to lug all of your stuff down the hall and into the laundry room and then you realize that, of course, you forgot quarters and laundry soap. And then you go back to your room and realize that you have no quarters and no laundry soap. What are you supposed to do after that unpleasant realization? Drag your dirty laundry back to your room and shove it back into your closest? Beg random strangers for soap and quarters? Try to hot-wire the washer? Cry? 


Well, I've tried all of these things. None are all that effective. 


Also, who liked my video-blog? Huh? I did. Mostly cause I'm vain and like to hear the sound of my own voice. It's one of the reasons that I talk to myself so much. The other reason is that my beta fish is much less friendly than my turtle. And my turtle wasn't all that friendly. 


I miss him. 


Also, I'm supposed to be writing a speech right now. But...speeches are for chumps. Ha...I was never on speech team...speech team is for nerds... Moving on. I don't have a topic picked out. I thought about talking about how emerging media was changing the way that we get news...but researching that felt suspiciously like work. I never research stuff unless it sounds like fun. Or do anything unless it sounds like fun. 


Maybe I should take a look at my decision-making process. 


Nah. 


That'd be work. 


And I hate work. 


Danielle Out.