Today...
I think that my bad luck-slash-the general suckiness of my life is contagious. It's like reverse-karma. I suck out your good karma points by standing to close. I've alway thought of karma like the House
points in Harry Potter...so, in this instance, innocent bystanders are Gryffindor and I'm Snape.
Take the necessary precautions. My evidence behind this conclusion is that two cars crashed into each other, like, feet from me. I was riding my bike about campus like I usually do when I'm mourning the fact that I will be in debt for literally forever when all of the sudden two cars went careening into each other! GASP! I was almost killed. No, not really. But, still. I think it's my fault. My depressing-ocity is like a disease...it's spreading through the air!!
Sorry...seventh grade flashback. For whatever reason, my stupid school district has kids watch the movie Outbreak to understand how diseases get spread. I would like to ask the school board one question. ARE YOU PEOPLE OUT OF YOUR FREAKING MINDS??? Outbreak is rated R. As in restricted. As in you should NOT show this to seventh grade school children. That is NOT a thing you should do. Because, despite the fact that the "gory" and "romantic" scenes are censored out...IT'S STILL A HORROR MOVIE ABOUT DISEASES. And maybe some impressionable seventh-grader might be so frightened by the concept of a disease taking over the planet, she'll skip a week of school so she doesn't have to see the conclusion of the horrific saga. ANYWAY.
Other things that happened today...let's see...I dunno, I'm still stuck on the Outbreak thing.
Junior High was TERRIBLE.
All children ages 12-14 should be locked away in tiny cages far underground. Cause that would probably be FUNNER than Junior High. Funner is not a word. I know that. I'm not dumb! I GOT A 1920 ON MY SATS! GET OFF MY BACK!
This blog is turning unreasonable and angry. Sorry. College does not provide many sleeping opportunities. Or...it does, but I choose to neglect them by playing Robot Unicorn Attack or writing self-pitying blogs that no one will read...
(why does nobody love me?)
Anyway.
There's homework to be done. And since I'm paying tens of thousands of dollars of the privilege to do this freaking homework...
I should probably go do my freaking homework.
Danielle Out.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Day Seven of College: Buried in Chickens
Today....
My feud with all pizza-service-related-people began anew. For those of you who don't know(which can't honestly be many at this point) let's skip back ten months and visit the scene of my first accident (or second if you could that thing with the round-a-bout...) where I ran a blinky red light and hit a pizza person. The pizza person (I could not confidently determine if it was a girl or a boy) was very, very upset that I had jostled his/her pepperonis.
Apparently, some of his or her pizza delivering brethren up here in Muncie have gotten wind of my pepperoni jostling. Today, one of them tried to run me over. I was innocently jay-walking (or jay-riding) my bike across the street when a pizza-jerk almost nailed me. Stupid pizza-jerk. I fell off my bike and possibly broke my one non-broken big toe.
I broke the other one in an unfortunate stair-falling-down incident earlier this week. Anyway.
I think that pizza people everywhere may be out to get me. Perhaps there is a pizza mafia network all over central Indiana...we must act against them quickly lest they spread to (gasp) upper Kentucky! They get to Kentucky...we're all going down. Kentucky Fried Chicken is toast people...TOAST. And without KFC to fry them, chicken populations with soon quadruple. We'll all be buried in chickens.
So, I think the pizza mafia presents a significant problem. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
But still...my toes both hurt.
Danielle Out
My feud with all pizza-service-related-people began anew. For those of you who don't know(which can't honestly be many at this point) let's skip back ten months and visit the scene of my first accident (or second if you could that thing with the round-a-bout...) where I ran a blinky red light and hit a pizza person. The pizza person (I could not confidently determine if it was a girl or a boy) was very, very upset that I had jostled his/her pepperonis.
Apparently, some of his or her pizza delivering brethren up here in Muncie have gotten wind of my pepperoni jostling. Today, one of them tried to run me over. I was innocently jay-walking (or jay-riding) my bike across the street when a pizza-jerk almost nailed me. Stupid pizza-jerk. I fell off my bike and possibly broke my one non-broken big toe.
I broke the other one in an unfortunate stair-falling-down incident earlier this week. Anyway.
I think that pizza people everywhere may be out to get me. Perhaps there is a pizza mafia network all over central Indiana...we must act against them quickly lest they spread to (gasp) upper Kentucky! They get to Kentucky...we're all going down. Kentucky Fried Chicken is toast people...TOAST. And without KFC to fry them, chicken populations with soon quadruple. We'll all be buried in chickens.
So, I think the pizza mafia presents a significant problem. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
But still...my toes both hurt.
Danielle Out
Monday, August 15, 2011
2 Days Until College: Hilarious Whales
Today...
I am not going to talk about today. I am going to talk about yesterday because yesterday was faaar more interesting. So, yesterday, I went to the hospital and while I was there, they gave me morphine.
Morphine RULES.
It made me very, very, very friendly towards all the members of the hospital staff. I swear, I tried to make friends with every doctor, nurse and janitor there. I also called or texted half of my contacts and tried to make make friends with all of them. The problem is, I'm already friends with most, if not all, of my contacts. So it was a little strange. Also, I was was a little strange. One example of this is a conversation I had with my sister. I said "I wish that you were here so you could give me a hug and make me feel better." She, being a rather nice person, catered to my weirdness and said, "I would give you five hugs." In my super-morphined state, I was astonished Five hugs? That was madness! So I said, "But that's SO MANY HUGS!"
So...that was my generally state of mind yesterday. I also thought that an episode of Phineas and Ferb was the most brilliant work of television I had ever seen. I also laughed hysterically at a documentary on humpbacked whales. Apparently, humpbacked whales are pretty funny. Apparently.
And moving on from that...the little Wayne concert was yesterday. And guess what they do when they find a drunk, disorderly and under-aged person at a little Wayne concert? That's right...they send them to the hospital! So, that was pretty funny. One girl, she couldn't have been more than 15, ran away from the doctors and attempted to hide in the corner of my room. Of course, I tried to make friends with her too.
No offense to little Wayne, but all of his fans I saw yesterday were screeching, projectile vomiting, biting people and just generally acting like Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body (which is a fabulous movie, by the way. If you haven't seen it...then make it a priority.) But, seriously, come on, Little Wayne! You've got to be able to find classier people to give a concert for!
Poor Little Wayne.
But, by the time I got checked out...I looked like a little Wayne fan myself. I'd cried off my (considerable amount of) eyeliner so I looked like someone had punched me in both eyes and my hair...I can't even begin to describe it. Little Wayne would be proud.
Danielle Out.
PS. (Mary Figueroa begged to be mentioned in a blog. So...here you are marmalade.)
I am not going to talk about today. I am going to talk about yesterday because yesterday was faaar more interesting. So, yesterday, I went to the hospital and while I was there, they gave me morphine.
Morphine RULES.
It made me very, very, very friendly towards all the members of the hospital staff. I swear, I tried to make friends with every doctor, nurse and janitor there. I also called or texted half of my contacts and tried to make make friends with all of them. The problem is, I'm already friends with most, if not all, of my contacts. So it was a little strange. Also, I was was a little strange. One example of this is a conversation I had with my sister. I said "I wish that you were here so you could give me a hug and make me feel better." She, being a rather nice person, catered to my weirdness and said, "I would give you five hugs." In my super-morphined state, I was astonished Five hugs? That was madness! So I said, "But that's SO MANY HUGS!"
So...that was my generally state of mind yesterday. I also thought that an episode of Phineas and Ferb was the most brilliant work of television I had ever seen. I also laughed hysterically at a documentary on humpbacked whales. Apparently, humpbacked whales are pretty funny. Apparently.
And moving on from that...the little Wayne concert was yesterday. And guess what they do when they find a drunk, disorderly and under-aged person at a little Wayne concert? That's right...they send them to the hospital! So, that was pretty funny. One girl, she couldn't have been more than 15, ran away from the doctors and attempted to hide in the corner of my room. Of course, I tried to make friends with her too.
No offense to little Wayne, but all of his fans I saw yesterday were screeching, projectile vomiting, biting people and just generally acting like Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body (which is a fabulous movie, by the way. If you haven't seen it...then make it a priority.) But, seriously, come on, Little Wayne! You've got to be able to find classier people to give a concert for!
Poor Little Wayne.
But, by the time I got checked out...I looked like a little Wayne fan myself. I'd cried off my (considerable amount of) eyeliner so I looked like someone had punched me in both eyes and my hair...I can't even begin to describe it. Little Wayne would be proud.
Danielle Out.
PS. (Mary Figueroa begged to be mentioned in a blog. So...here you are marmalade.)
Friday, August 5, 2011
12 Days Until College: Fictional Adulterers
Today...
began at IHOP. At midnight. Does midnight count as part of today, blog-wise? Eh, whatever. But, I had IHOP at midnight today/yesterday. At the time it seemed like a fabulous idea. Now, I doubt that the idea was so fabulous. I ate all of my food and most of the other people's food as well...so unless pancakes now burn calories...I ate enough to feed a small African village. Perhaps two small African villages. Depends what sort of African villages we're talking about, honestly.
Anyhow...moving on from third-world-countries onto more first-world issues...I bought my books for college today. And those suckers cleared out my bank account pretty darn quick. Apparently, in addition to charging enough in tuition to build a castle for the African villagers, Ball-stupid-State needs to make sure that my accumulated debt lasts at least into my mid-fifties by jacking up book prices nine billion percent.
If I live to be fifty.
Which is probably a more likely possibility if I stop eating IHOP at midnight.
Huh.
And also, they're BOOKS for crying out loud. I probably won't even, like, use them. I am functionally illiterate. Also, Google Chrome just auto-corrected my incorrect spelling of the world illiterate into 'adulterer.' Seriously Google Chrome...get your mind out of the biblical gutter. I am in no way a functional adulterer. Lord, it just corrected functional in 'fictional'. You're making this too easy, Google Chrome. Fictional adulterers? REALLY?
And now I want pancakes. Then again, when don't I want pancakes? When I'm a fictional adulterer, that's when. Which isn't now...or ever. Riiight? (Google Chrome just corrected that into, not right, but righto. Apparently, righto is probably what I was trying to spell. Probably.)
Wow, that was something...I picked on African villagers, didn't I? African villager mockery is the last resort of the imaginatively bankrupt, if you didn't know. Which is something that I am.
I am writing about pancakes after all. And college. And fictional adulterers.
Groundbreaking.
Danielle out.
began at IHOP. At midnight. Does midnight count as part of today, blog-wise? Eh, whatever. But, I had IHOP at midnight today/yesterday. At the time it seemed like a fabulous idea. Now, I doubt that the idea was so fabulous. I ate all of my food and most of the other people's food as well...so unless pancakes now burn calories...I ate enough to feed a small African village. Perhaps two small African villages. Depends what sort of African villages we're talking about, honestly.
Anyhow...moving on from third-world-countries onto more first-world issues...I bought my books for college today. And those suckers cleared out my bank account pretty darn quick. Apparently, in addition to charging enough in tuition to build a castle for the African villagers, Ball-stupid-State needs to make sure that my accumulated debt lasts at least into my mid-fifties by jacking up book prices nine billion percent.
If I live to be fifty.
Which is probably a more likely possibility if I stop eating IHOP at midnight.
Huh.
And also, they're BOOKS for crying out loud. I probably won't even, like, use them. I am functionally illiterate. Also, Google Chrome just auto-corrected my incorrect spelling of the world illiterate into 'adulterer.' Seriously Google Chrome...get your mind out of the biblical gutter. I am in no way a functional adulterer. Lord, it just corrected functional in 'fictional'. You're making this too easy, Google Chrome. Fictional adulterers? REALLY?
And now I want pancakes. Then again, when don't I want pancakes? When I'm a fictional adulterer, that's when. Which isn't now...or ever. Riiight? (Google Chrome just corrected that into, not right, but righto. Apparently, righto is probably what I was trying to spell. Probably.)
Wow, that was something...I picked on African villagers, didn't I? African villager mockery is the last resort of the imaginatively bankrupt, if you didn't know. Which is something that I am.
I am writing about pancakes after all. And college. And fictional adulterers.
Groundbreaking.
Danielle out.
Monday, August 1, 2011
16 Days Until College: Land Sharks
Today...
is day 2 of SHARK WEEK!!! I love shark week. I love shark week to an unhealthy degree. I have watched at the very least five hours of shark-related programing today. Psh...of course I have friends...psh. Whatever. You don't know my life. Anyway...my extreme love of all things shark week was born from my INTENSE FEAR of sharks. Seriously. I got, like, twenty-two minutes into Jaws before I flipped out.
I'm aware that most people who are deathly afraid of sharks do not spend the entirety of Shark Week on a couch watching Shark Week. But, unlike many people who have shark-related phobias, I live in a land-locked state. And have always lived in a land-locked state. So HA sharks. Try and bite me now. That is basically my mentality behind watching Shark Week. Mostly, it consists of me laughing because sharks cannot come get me on my couch.
When I was a child, however, my dad convinced me and my brother that there was an exotic breed of shark called Land Sharks. He said that Land Sharks come and knock on your door and ask for orange soda and oreo cookies. If you didn't comply with a Land Shark's request for orange soda and oreo cookies, he'd eat you. I was understandably upset at the notion that a shark might come to my door and steal my cookies and soda.
I'm pretty sure i believed in Land Sharks until at least second grade. No wonder I'm still terrified of sharks. It took a ridiculous amount of courage for me to poke a shark at the zoo. No...i didn't have oreos and orange soda in my purse in case the shark-poking went bad. Ha...that'd be stupid....
Anyway.
I'm unsure why Shark Week is so fun for me. Maybe cause they've never done a special on Land Sharks. I swear, if I ever turn on the TV to see "Land Sharks: Innocent Orange Soda Lovers or Ruthless Killers?" then I'm finding some way to move to Mars.
Land Sharks don't have thumbs...so I doubt they could fly a space shuttle to Mars.
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
Danielle OUT.
is day 2 of SHARK WEEK!!! I love shark week. I love shark week to an unhealthy degree. I have watched at the very least five hours of shark-related programing today. Psh...of course I have friends...psh. Whatever. You don't know my life. Anyway...my extreme love of all things shark week was born from my INTENSE FEAR of sharks. Seriously. I got, like, twenty-two minutes into Jaws before I flipped out.
I'm aware that most people who are deathly afraid of sharks do not spend the entirety of Shark Week on a couch watching Shark Week. But, unlike many people who have shark-related phobias, I live in a land-locked state. And have always lived in a land-locked state. So HA sharks. Try and bite me now. That is basically my mentality behind watching Shark Week. Mostly, it consists of me laughing because sharks cannot come get me on my couch.
When I was a child, however, my dad convinced me and my brother that there was an exotic breed of shark called Land Sharks. He said that Land Sharks come and knock on your door and ask for orange soda and oreo cookies. If you didn't comply with a Land Shark's request for orange soda and oreo cookies, he'd eat you. I was understandably upset at the notion that a shark might come to my door and steal my cookies and soda.
I'm pretty sure i believed in Land Sharks until at least second grade. No wonder I'm still terrified of sharks. It took a ridiculous amount of courage for me to poke a shark at the zoo. No...i didn't have oreos and orange soda in my purse in case the shark-poking went bad. Ha...that'd be stupid....
Anyway.
I'm unsure why Shark Week is so fun for me. Maybe cause they've never done a special on Land Sharks. I swear, if I ever turn on the TV to see "Land Sharks: Innocent Orange Soda Lovers or Ruthless Killers?" then I'm finding some way to move to Mars.
Land Sharks don't have thumbs...so I doubt they could fly a space shuttle to Mars.
Or at least that's what I tell myself.
Danielle OUT.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
18 Days until College: Imaginary Reptiles
Today...
My family returned from camping. My family often leaves me at home while they take various fun trips, such as yesterday's camping trip, three-weeks-ago's camping trip, spring break's Great Wolf Lodge trip, last fall break's...well, you get the picture. Oftentimes, I'll wake up and go upstairs from my basement to find a note that says something like:
Danielle-
We are going on a fun trip to <insert fun place here> and we assumed that you did not want to come with us. Also, we took your car, so no going anywhere. And, we don't really care that you're going to have to walk to work late at night because we took your car. So, have a fun week!
Love, Your Family
P.S. We left you no money and no food either, so you're probably going to have to walk to the grocery store and spend your own money if you get hungry.
So...that's my family. Yes, I know being at home with no parents is supposed to be all fun and stuff and I'm supposed to throw parties and whatever...but, I have no friends. So, no parties. Well, my turtle and I played some board games last night (I won) and had a race (he won) and then ate some canned soup because that was all that was left in the entire stupid house.
Do you cook canned soup? I don't. Seriously, it's like a waste of two-and-a-half minutes that could be spent doing many more interesting things. Like playing board games with a turtle. Anyway, cooking soup is recommended...not required. So, no harm done to me or my soup.
I need to find friends who are not imaginary or reptiles. Or imaginary reptiles.
Anyway.
So...I've been sleeping on my couch ever since my futon broke. My back kind of hurts. Granted, my futon was from Walmart, so it's not like it was a particularly high-quality piece of sleeping equipment...but, still. This whole no-bed decision that I made when I bought the stupid futon may not have been my best decision.
Sleeping on a bed at college is going to be super weird.
I'm going to go and have a nice conversation with Julio the Imaginary Gecko. Yep.
Danielle OUT.
My family returned from camping. My family often leaves me at home while they take various fun trips, such as yesterday's camping trip, three-weeks-ago's camping trip, spring break's Great Wolf Lodge trip, last fall break's...well, you get the picture. Oftentimes, I'll wake up and go upstairs from my basement to find a note that says something like:
Danielle-
We are going on a fun trip to <insert fun place here> and we assumed that you did not want to come with us. Also, we took your car, so no going anywhere. And, we don't really care that you're going to have to walk to work late at night because we took your car. So, have a fun week!
Love, Your Family
P.S. We left you no money and no food either, so you're probably going to have to walk to the grocery store and spend your own money if you get hungry.
So...that's my family. Yes, I know being at home with no parents is supposed to be all fun and stuff and I'm supposed to throw parties and whatever...but, I have no friends. So, no parties. Well, my turtle and I played some board games last night (I won) and had a race (he won) and then ate some canned soup because that was all that was left in the entire stupid house.
Do you cook canned soup? I don't. Seriously, it's like a waste of two-and-a-half minutes that could be spent doing many more interesting things. Like playing board games with a turtle. Anyway, cooking soup is recommended...not required. So, no harm done to me or my soup.
I need to find friends who are not imaginary or reptiles. Or imaginary reptiles.
Anyway.
So...I've been sleeping on my couch ever since my futon broke. My back kind of hurts. Granted, my futon was from Walmart, so it's not like it was a particularly high-quality piece of sleeping equipment...but, still. This whole no-bed decision that I made when I bought the stupid futon may not have been my best decision.
Sleeping on a bed at college is going to be super weird.
I'm going to go and have a nice conversation with Julio the Imaginary Gecko. Yep.
Danielle OUT.
Friday, July 22, 2011
27 Days until College: How to Get Tips at Work
Today...
I worked. At the Custard Stand. Where I work. So, that was fun. No, not really actually. We were so NOT BUSY.
Being not busy at work totally sucks for me...mostly because I make less than minimum wage and, as I stated in my last blog, I'm stupid poor. So...tips are a good thing for me. So, by some highly complex and mathematical reasoning, I've deduced that fewer customers = fewer tips, and by that logic, fewer customers = sad/poor Danielle.
But, anyway, I've become rather skilled at making customers (when I have them) give me their money. There are a few simple rules that, if you follow them, will make most customers tip you.
Firstly, you have to smile at them. It doesn't matter if they're shouting at you and your ears are really starting to hurt. It doesn't matter if they have like fifty people who are all ordering dumb things like shakes with bananas, strawberries, peanut butter, almonds and M&M's in them. It doesn't matter if they pay you in entirely nickles. It doesn't even matter if they're Amish. YOU STILL HAVE TO SMILE AT THEM.
Secondly, if they have a dog or a kid, you should compliment it. Tell them that it (the kid and/or dog) is super-cute or well-groomed or whatever you have to. Keep in mind...this strategy DOES NOT work for spouses. I repeat DO NOT attempt to tell someone that their spouse is super-cute or well-groomed. This does not go over well. Also, if the kid is over, say, eleven, they may attempt to give you their phone number...So, use this one with caution.
Thirdly, don't swear angrily about the customer when you think the window might be closed. Yes, they may be a stupid bleep-bleep-bleep, but the window might be open. And the stupid bleep-bleep-bleep may just prove what a stupid bleep-bleeper they are and call your boss. And then tips are the least of your worries so...just don't.
Fourthly, you should empty your tip jar every twenty minutes or so. This will make the customer feel bad for you, the poor, tipless employee. Also, you should do things to draw attention to the fact that it's empty, like, say knocking it over or throwing it at them. Maybe, if you're a poorDanielle...ahem, kid trying to pay for college, you could talk to them out your student loans or about how you don't have enough money for a computer just yet.
So...use these four tips for making tips and you'll be about twenty-some-odd cents richer in no time! But, a word of caution first. Some people are dumb, stupid and cheap and they will not tip you. EVER. You could compliment their kids and their pets all day in a gentle, soothing voice as you make their incredibly large and complex order with a smile on your face and they will STILL NOT TIP YOU. When this happens, you are allowed to call them a bleep-bleep-bleep...but, make sure the windows are all closed.
Danielle OUT.
I worked. At the Custard Stand. Where I work. So, that was fun. No, not really actually. We were so NOT BUSY.
Being not busy at work totally sucks for me...mostly because I make less than minimum wage and, as I stated in my last blog, I'm stupid poor. So...tips are a good thing for me. So, by some highly complex and mathematical reasoning, I've deduced that fewer customers = fewer tips, and by that logic, fewer customers = sad/poor Danielle.
But, anyway, I've become rather skilled at making customers (when I have them) give me their money. There are a few simple rules that, if you follow them, will make most customers tip you.
Firstly, you have to smile at them. It doesn't matter if they're shouting at you and your ears are really starting to hurt. It doesn't matter if they have like fifty people who are all ordering dumb things like shakes with bananas, strawberries, peanut butter, almonds and M&M's in them. It doesn't matter if they pay you in entirely nickles. It doesn't even matter if they're Amish. YOU STILL HAVE TO SMILE AT THEM.
Secondly, if they have a dog or a kid, you should compliment it. Tell them that it (the kid and/or dog) is super-cute or well-groomed or whatever you have to. Keep in mind...this strategy DOES NOT work for spouses. I repeat DO NOT attempt to tell someone that their spouse is super-cute or well-groomed. This does not go over well. Also, if the kid is over, say, eleven, they may attempt to give you their phone number...So, use this one with caution.
Thirdly, don't swear angrily about the customer when you think the window might be closed. Yes, they may be a stupid bleep-bleep-bleep, but the window might be open. And the stupid bleep-bleep-bleep may just prove what a stupid bleep-bleeper they are and call your boss. And then tips are the least of your worries so...just don't.
Fourthly, you should empty your tip jar every twenty minutes or so. This will make the customer feel bad for you, the poor, tipless employee. Also, you should do things to draw attention to the fact that it's empty, like, say knocking it over or throwing it at them. Maybe, if you're a poor
So...use these four tips for making tips and you'll be about twenty-some-odd cents richer in no time! But, a word of caution first. Some people are dumb, stupid and cheap and they will not tip you. EVER. You could compliment their kids and their pets all day in a gentle, soothing voice as you make their incredibly large and complex order with a smile on your face and they will STILL NOT TIP YOU. When this happens, you are allowed to call them a bleep-bleep-bleep...but, make sure the windows are all closed.
Danielle OUT.
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