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
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Day Forty-Three of College: The Narnia of Speeches
Today...
I discovered pawn shops! Pawn shops are basically my new most favorite thing (also, turkey bacon). I discovered the wonder that is a pawn shop whilst parading about the wilds of Muncie. The wilds of Muncie are populated with a combination of homeless guys and guys who could beat me up. And homeless guys who could beat me up.
So, yup. Pawn shops. Also, second-hand bookstores. Those places have the best books...and the worst. But mostly the worst. Cause, who gives away books? Books are awesome! Oh no...my inner nerd got out again. Things like this are the reason that I'm a lonely mess.
Also, speeches. I have to give one. My topic is coffee. Because I was tired and wanted coffee while I was writing it. So...it's pretty legit. Coffee. Did you know that it can take the arabic coffee plant 5 years to mature? You didn't? Well, that's probably the reason you all have significant others. And I'm still single. Though...I would kill on Jeopardy.
Anyway, I also have a video-blog available for your viewing pleasure where I beg for comments and go off on cosmo. So...
So, there's that. For the record, that video was close to twelve minutes long when I finished recording it. It included my shopping list, more of my thoughts on Brokeback Mountain and a four-minute-long explosive rant about cosmo. It's all pretty funny, I assure you, but a lot of it (particularly the cosmo bit) isn't family-blog-friendly. Also, it's twelve minutes long. Seemed a little bit ridiculous.
So...hit me up in the comments. No, no. Don't do that. Also, punch me in the face if I ever use the phrase "hit me up" ever again. Seriously. Ever.
Danielle Out.
I discovered pawn shops! Pawn shops are basically my new most favorite thing (also, turkey bacon). I discovered the wonder that is a pawn shop whilst parading about the wilds of Muncie. The wilds of Muncie are populated with a combination of homeless guys and guys who could beat me up. And homeless guys who could beat me up.
So, yup. Pawn shops. Also, second-hand bookstores. Those places have the best books...and the worst. But mostly the worst. Cause, who gives away books? Books are awesome! Oh no...my inner nerd got out again. Things like this are the reason that I'm a lonely mess.
Also, speeches. I have to give one. My topic is coffee. Because I was tired and wanted coffee while I was writing it. So...it's pretty legit. Coffee. Did you know that it can take the arabic coffee plant 5 years to mature? You didn't? Well, that's probably the reason you all have significant others. And I'm still single. Though...I would kill on Jeopardy.
Anyway, I also have a video-blog available for your viewing pleasure where I beg for comments and go off on cosmo. So...
So, there's that. For the record, that video was close to twelve minutes long when I finished recording it. It included my shopping list, more of my thoughts on Brokeback Mountain and a four-minute-long explosive rant about cosmo. It's all pretty funny, I assure you, but a lot of it (particularly the cosmo bit) isn't family-blog-friendly. Also, it's twelve minutes long. Seemed a little bit ridiculous.
So...hit me up in the comments. No, no. Don't do that. Also, punch me in the face if I ever use the phrase "hit me up" ever again. Seriously. Ever.
Danielle Out.
Monday, September 26, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Day Thirty-Seven of College: Crying and iMovie
Today...
I discovered iMovie!!!! (and cried a great deal for no apparent reason) Curious to know more? Watch the video below!
Yes, yes I know that the cuts are terrible...but I've only just discovered this lovely piece of technology! Give me some time...it'll be awesome.
Danielle Out
P.S. I don't really want to be a phone sex operator. So...please don't call me.
I discovered iMovie!!!! (and cried a great deal for no apparent reason) Curious to know more? Watch the video below!
Yes, yes I know that the cuts are terrible...but I've only just discovered this lovely piece of technology! Give me some time...it'll be awesome.
Danielle Out
P.S. I don't really want to be a phone sex operator. So...please don't call me.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Day Thirty-Five of College: Tattoos and Gibberish
Today...
The math behind these blogs is getting rather difficult. You know, I have to figure out when I wrote the last one and then figure out what day it is today and then add on days so its accurate. Oh, the things I do for all seven or so of my loyal readers. (Then again, I write these more out of self-pity than anything else.)
Moving on. So far, college has prompted me to make one life-altering decision. I'm never, ever, ever, ever getting a tattoo. Seriously. Every trampy girl here has a tattoo. A lot of the non-trampy ones do to, but...the trampy ones are winning on that front. I swear, I have never seen more chinese characters or different languages inked on people's skin. It's like a freaking mutli-culti ink-fest up in here. If you speak that language, then it's one thing. Then it's sort of okay...because at least you know what it says. But, seriously, if I was a tattoo artist, I'd just write curse words on people. Or the word "fish" over and over and over again. And then I'd laugh about it.
How do you says "You're a total idiot" in Chinese? Cause I think the girl sitting next to me has it written on her freaking arm. Oh, and how do you say "If you can read this, punch me in the face" in Hungarian because I swear to God, there is a girl in my Journalism class who has it inked all over her neck.
It makes you wonder...do people in other countries have random English words all over their bodies? Can't you you just imagine the chinese guy in a circle with all of his friends, proudly displaying his new tattoo?
"D-O-U-C-H-E-B-A-G." Then he'd nod all cool-like. "Yeah, it means 'courage' in English."
Sure it does, foreign boy. Sure it does.
So, seriously, before you get a tattoo, something that will be on your skin FOR ALL OF TIME, please, check on Google Translator and make sure that it says what you think it says. Or, crazy idea here, but bear with me, maybe you could get a tattoo in a language you ACTUALLY KNOW.
Unless it's a tattoo based on the Twilight book series. Then, you get it in whatever made-up language you want. Because maybe it will keep people from finding out YOU GOT A TWILIGHT TATTOO. I've seen them...they're real, I swear. You know the girl with Hungarian on her neck? Yeah, she's got "and so the lion fell in love with the lamb" inked up on her lower back. There's also a picture of a lion. And a picture of a lamb. In case the words alone weren't enough for us.
Good Lord, some people are dumb. Seriously, how did you get into college? Oh, wait, I forgot.
This is Ball State.
Right.
Now everything makes a lot more sense.
Danielle Out.
The math behind these blogs is getting rather difficult. You know, I have to figure out when I wrote the last one and then figure out what day it is today and then add on days so its accurate. Oh, the things I do for all seven or so of my loyal readers. (Then again, I write these more out of self-pity than anything else.)
Moving on. So far, college has prompted me to make one life-altering decision. I'm never, ever, ever, ever getting a tattoo. Seriously. Every trampy girl here has a tattoo. A lot of the non-trampy ones do to, but...the trampy ones are winning on that front. I swear, I have never seen more chinese characters or different languages inked on people's skin. It's like a freaking mutli-culti ink-fest up in here. If you speak that language, then it's one thing. Then it's sort of okay...because at least you know what it says. But, seriously, if I was a tattoo artist, I'd just write curse words on people. Or the word "fish" over and over and over again. And then I'd laugh about it.
How do you says "You're a total idiot" in Chinese? Cause I think the girl sitting next to me has it written on her freaking arm. Oh, and how do you say "If you can read this, punch me in the face" in Hungarian because I swear to God, there is a girl in my Journalism class who has it inked all over her neck.
It makes you wonder...do people in other countries have random English words all over their bodies? Can't you you just imagine the chinese guy in a circle with all of his friends, proudly displaying his new tattoo?
"D-O-U-C-H-E-B-A-G." Then he'd nod all cool-like. "Yeah, it means 'courage' in English."
Sure it does, foreign boy. Sure it does.
So, seriously, before you get a tattoo, something that will be on your skin FOR ALL OF TIME, please, check on Google Translator and make sure that it says what you think it says. Or, crazy idea here, but bear with me, maybe you could get a tattoo in a language you ACTUALLY KNOW.
Unless it's a tattoo based on the Twilight book series. Then, you get it in whatever made-up language you want. Because maybe it will keep people from finding out YOU GOT A TWILIGHT TATTOO. I've seen them...they're real, I swear. You know the girl with Hungarian on her neck? Yeah, she's got "and so the lion fell in love with the lamb" inked up on her lower back. There's also a picture of a lion. And a picture of a lamb. In case the words alone weren't enough for us.
Good Lord, some people are dumb. Seriously, how did you get into college? Oh, wait, I forgot.
This is Ball State.
Right.
Now everything makes a lot more sense.
Danielle Out.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Day Twenty-Nine of College: Twitter is Dumb and so are Stairs
Today...
I still don't understand why Twitter is, like, a thing. And, aside from that, a big successful thing. It's just like a less-exciting Facebook. With birds. That tweet or something. I don't even know at this point.
Moving on from things that are Tweet-related, I fell down the stairs today. And by 'fell down the stairs' I mean, I fell down two flights of stairs in the Music building. I think I broke my scapula. I'm lying. I have no clue what a scapula is. Anyway, a girl with a french horn saw me and giggled. What are you giggling at, french horn girl? You have no right to giggle. You play a horn. And to make it worse, that horn is French.
Socialist.
Anyway, I've started spending a rather unhealthy amount of time in the library. Seriously. And like half the time, I'm not even studying. I'm just lurking in the corner with a cup of coffee and my laptop, sneakily typing bad things about people.
You should see my 'essay' about sorority math. Really, it's probably some of my best work. Equal parts mean, snarky and self-depreciating. Kind of like my personality.
Anyway.
My hardest class is Music History. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either. I keep accidentally failing things. Though, really, there aren't many other ways to fail. Unless you fail on purpose. And when you're paying skillets full of money to go to classes...purposeful failing is kind of an idiot move.
Just saying.
Danielle Out.
I still don't understand why Twitter is, like, a thing. And, aside from that, a big successful thing. It's just like a less-exciting Facebook. With birds. That tweet or something. I don't even know at this point.
Moving on from things that are Tweet-related, I fell down the stairs today. And by 'fell down the stairs' I mean, I fell down two flights of stairs in the Music building. I think I broke my scapula. I'm lying. I have no clue what a scapula is. Anyway, a girl with a french horn saw me and giggled. What are you giggling at, french horn girl? You have no right to giggle. You play a horn. And to make it worse, that horn is French.
Socialist.
Anyway, I've started spending a rather unhealthy amount of time in the library. Seriously. And like half the time, I'm not even studying. I'm just lurking in the corner with a cup of coffee and my laptop, sneakily typing bad things about people.
You should see my 'essay' about sorority math. Really, it's probably some of my best work. Equal parts mean, snarky and self-depreciating. Kind of like my personality.
Anyway.
My hardest class is Music History. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either. I keep accidentally failing things. Though, really, there aren't many other ways to fail. Unless you fail on purpose. And when you're paying skillets full of money to go to classes...purposeful failing is kind of an idiot move.
Just saying.
Danielle Out.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Day Twenty-Seven of College: Being Depressing is a Special Skill
Today...
I hate Ball State's wireless internet. Seriously. It takes, like, three hours for three minutes of video to load. I've yelled at my computer nine times today. On the bright side, I've downloaded Google Chrome on my Mac. Let the hilarious misspelling mishaps ensue.
Anyway...college. Contrary to popular belief, not all of it is spent partying. Saturday and Sunday and most of Friday...I will admit that not much gets done at those times. But, Monday through Thursday...there are classes. And they expect us to LEARN. Ugh. Learning. Learning is for people who got 1910s or lower on their SATs (ahem...not me).
Today in English, a class that I despise with a great passion, we were instructed to craft a resume. I filled out the education, work experience and the extracurriculars with no problems. Psh...that resume was pretty awesome from my perspective. At least, it was until I reached the special skills portion. That was when I realized that I have NO SPECIAL SKILLS. I can't speak a different language (made up or otherwise). I can't do karate. I can't even ski. Or say no to a third helping of steak or pumpkin pie. NO SKILLS. NO SKILLS AT ALL.
Well, not unless you count my ability to say the pledge of allegiance in latin (in my deep and soothing radio voice nonetheless) or my talent of describing mundane events with an astonishing amount of wit and clarity. That and the fact that I am very, very good-looking.
(I wonder if statements like that are the reason that I have no friends.... Nah, that can't be it. I'm awesome. Everybody else is just intimidated. Right...that's why I spent most of the day curled up in a corner listening to the song "I Can't Make You Love Me" on repeat and crying. That's totally why.)
But, anyway, nobody seems to take me and my special skills seriously. Would it help if I told you I can eat ten saltine crackers at one time without any water? No? It figures. All the useful skills that I have and no one takes me seriously.
This is madness.
Absolute madness.
Can you say the pledge of allegiance in Latin? Can you even spell allegiance? (it's okay...I couldn't either. Google Chrome corrected it to many outlandish and impractical things. No time for that now.) Can you be very very good-looking? I didn't think so.
I have to go. "I Can't Make You Love Me" is starting again and I feel a fresh wave of tears coming on. Oh, the pains of being a teenage girl.
Danielle Out.
I hate Ball State's wireless internet. Seriously. It takes, like, three hours for three minutes of video to load. I've yelled at my computer nine times today. On the bright side, I've downloaded Google Chrome on my Mac. Let the hilarious misspelling mishaps ensue.
Anyway...college. Contrary to popular belief, not all of it is spent partying. Saturday and Sunday and most of Friday...I will admit that not much gets done at those times. But, Monday through Thursday...there are classes. And they expect us to LEARN. Ugh. Learning. Learning is for people who got 1910s or lower on their SATs (ahem...not me).
Today in English, a class that I despise with a great passion, we were instructed to craft a resume. I filled out the education, work experience and the extracurriculars with no problems. Psh...that resume was pretty awesome from my perspective. At least, it was until I reached the special skills portion. That was when I realized that I have NO SPECIAL SKILLS. I can't speak a different language (made up or otherwise). I can't do karate. I can't even ski. Or say no to a third helping of steak or pumpkin pie. NO SKILLS. NO SKILLS AT ALL.
Well, not unless you count my ability to say the pledge of allegiance in latin (in my deep and soothing radio voice nonetheless) or my talent of describing mundane events with an astonishing amount of wit and clarity. That and the fact that I am very, very good-looking.
(I wonder if statements like that are the reason that I have no friends.... Nah, that can't be it. I'm awesome. Everybody else is just intimidated. Right...that's why I spent most of the day curled up in a corner listening to the song "I Can't Make You Love Me" on repeat and crying. That's totally why.)
But, anyway, nobody seems to take me and my special skills seriously. Would it help if I told you I can eat ten saltine crackers at one time without any water? No? It figures. All the useful skills that I have and no one takes me seriously.
This is madness.
Absolute madness.
Can you say the pledge of allegiance in Latin? Can you even spell allegiance? (it's okay...I couldn't either. Google Chrome corrected it to many outlandish and impractical things. No time for that now.) Can you be very very good-looking? I didn't think so.
I have to go. "I Can't Make You Love Me" is starting again and I feel a fresh wave of tears coming on. Oh, the pains of being a teenage girl.
Danielle Out.
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