Crumpets and Enthusiastic Crying

I HAVE SUCH EXCITING NEWS. 

Well, you probably won't think that its exciting. I mean, I do. I think its very exciting. But...honestly, it will probably not change your daily lives one way or the other. 

Anyway. I get to work stir fry on Mondays now tooooo! Yay! No more dishroom. It's all stir fry all the time. Awww yeeeeah. 

But, there is a downside to my exciting news. 

They're back, you guys.

The football players. They're back at my job and everything about my life is stupid now.

 Also I keep running out of stuff thanks to their insatiable appetite. And, see, that wouldn't be a problem if they were cool about it. But they're all like, "are you sure you don't have more?" 

And I'm like, "Yes I'm sure. If I had more I would be serving you them and not telling you this." 

And then they always say, "do you have more in the back?" 

Why is it that people think the back of my dining hall is some sort of magical land of milk and honey where there are shrimps and noodles for all? The streets are not paved with rice. The water fountains don't flow with general tso's sauce. Erugh. Can you imagine that? That would be so gross. It would get all gunked up and it wouldn't flow it would just kind of gloop out. That's the sound it would make too. Gloop, gloop gloop. 

Yuuuuuuck. 

But no, it's actually kind of awesome because if I run out of noodles or something they all act like I took the entire pan of noodles and ate them all specifically so there would be none left for the football team. They just look at me with these horribly sad expressions that say "why, stir fry girl? why would you hurt us in this way?"

BECAUSE ITS FUN YOU LOSERS!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!

I had to, like, be physically restrained from telling them "noodles are for winners" after they lost their game last week. In hindsight, it was probably good that I did not say that. 

They would likely try to beat me up. And I'm pretty sure they'd win. I mean, I talk big but I am not physically gifted in areas of strength, speed or anything else useful. 

Anyway. 

School is happening. It is a thing I am dealing with.

And by dealing I mean putting in the minimum amount of effort to not fail. So, that's a thing that is happening.

I've also done like a minimum amount of homework, like, at my home. I do it during other classes. Because I am trash who does not listen during lectures.

I'm sorry! They're so boring! And paying attention is so stupid!

I'm in class right now, like, writing this. I figure that it's better than my usual practice of typing curse words over and over and then turning them rainbow colors. 

I also have a really bad habit of doing things like texting people or playing stupid games on my iPhone.

Speaking of my iphone, my iphone is broken.

Like, the screen is completely shattered. It keeps cutting my fingers and/or ears. Of course I still use it because I am addicted to technology. 

In other sad news, my sister left the country. 

She's in England now, with all the tea and crumpets a person could wish for. No, but I took the day off of work and classes on Monday so I could escort her there along with my family. 

It was a bad choice. I failed to account for the fact that I am a really unattractive crier. Like, there's way too much snot involved. Also a lot of Darth Vader-esque gasping. I do not cry pretty. But I do cry really enthusiastically, I guess? 

Luckily, crying isn't a thing I do a whole lot. Usually only when I get mad, I don't get mad very often, but when I do there is lots of yelling and lots of tears. But I really like my sister and the fact that she drives me around! I am going to miss her and her car very much. So I got sad. And I cried. Like an idiot. 

I feel like the greater Indianapolis area is judging me. 

But I'm hoping to visit England at some point during this year. See my sister. Be a horrible American tourist. You know, all fun things. 

But before that I have to get a passport. 

And then fly on a plane. I hate planes. They are big, flying death-boxes...uh, coffins. They're called coffins. 

And I, as a person who is alive and junk, am generally not a fan of being in coffins. So, you know. Pros and cons. 

Ugh, I should go. My professor is bitch-facing at me. I think he knows that I am paying the opposite of attention. 

Okay...I will keep you updated as to the status of the football players and my stir fry escapades. You know. The important things. 

Later. 

This Blog Brought to You By the Letters X and O

I'm back! Back at school, I mean. I didn't actually go anywhere or anything. I just didn't have like anything to blog about because I was doing literally nothing with my life. 

No things. None of the things. 

But now I'm back at school doing the things and stirring the fry and so now I have material. 

Yay for material. 

Not so much yay for what the material contains, but the, like, presence of material is a good thing. I guess. See this is the problem with having a depressing blog. If depressing things happen, you get weirdly happy about it because now you have stuff to blog about. But also it sucks because there are fleas in your couch and you have to throw it away. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Let's start with the flea thing. My apartment was completely infested with fleas this summer. I left it for a few weeks to do vacation things and when I came back BAM! FLEAS! 

There were so many. 

So many. You literally cannot fathom how many fleas were in my apartment. There was a flea army. A literal army of militarized fleas living in my carpet fibers. The level of fleas was well over 9000. IT WAS HORRIBLE.

I had to throw away my couch and my ugly orange chair. I loved that chair. It was so ugly. I freaked out so much about the fleas that I lost my voice, regained my voice, developed a temporary stutter and then threw up. 

I REALLY HATE BUGS, OKAY? Even though they are mostly gone now, the traumatic memories remain. Like, haunting me and shit. 

 They bit me and got in my sock drawer and got all up in my socks' business. 

Long story short, I now have no socks to wear to work. 

Oh! Oh! Speaking of work, I got a nametag! Yay! Also a locker! I hope I don't lose them as punishment when my boss sees that I have no socks. 

I am so excited about those two things though. Also I am excited because my boss says the football players may not be coming back this year. I do not hate football players. I just...dislike them. A lot. Like, probably more than is healthy?

They just make my job SO HARD and SO STUPID. 

Granted, a lot of my job is stupid anyway, thanks to myself and my behavior. Also my puns. I am more proud of my puns than I should be, I think. When I am an adult with an adult job, I will probably have to reduce the amount of puns, old memes and geeky references that pepper my speech. 

I think they make me sound totes mature and respectable and shit. Society...seems to have a different view. Whatever. Society is stupid. 

Trust me. I have most of a sociology degree. 

I am a professional. 

Blah. I have like two hours before my next class. I was going to play skyrim, but I forgot to bring my mouse. And you can't play skyrim with a trackpad. You just can't. 

I hate first day classes. They are awkward and stupid. All we do is go over syllabuses. And studiously avoid making eye-contact with anyone. Though, I'm starting to think the eye-contact thing might just be me. Maybe. 

Gah, I am so weird. 

Like, I was excited to go back to work. How strange is that? My job is literally one of the worst jobs ever and I missed it. I think I have Stockholm stir fry syndrome. It is what happens when you are forced to stir the fry so often that you before weirdly dependent on it. And also the money it provides. 

But mostly just the stir frying experience. 

Hmmmm...what else can I tell you...

I went to a bar the other night. I was weird and awkward. No one was surprised. I utterly failed at trying to make guys buy me drinks. It might have something to do with the fact that I didn't wear my glasses so I just sat the the bar being unable to see and making weird faces in an attempt to somehow improve my eyesight. 

It did not work. Glasses suck. 

And as my dad always says, guys don't date girls with glasses. 

My dad is really good at accidentally insulting people while trying to compliment them. I call it at complisult. That sad thing is, he's always legitimately trying to be nice. My dad is a nice person. He doesn't say mean things about his kids. But when he tries to compliment them...

"You look really good from far away!" 

"You look so much better without that goop on your eyes." 

"You actually sound like a grown-up over the phone!" 

And of course...

"Guys just don't date girls with glasses, Danielle!" 

I'd say it makes more sense in context...but it really doesn't. I like my dad, he is the best dad. But sometimes...he is just bad at saying words. He's started doing this thing where he nudges me when a boy even remotely close to my age walks by and whispering "Danielle!" like I might not have noticed the college-aged male human in my proximity. 

Yes dad, I see him. Yes dad, he is my age. No, I am not going to attempt to jump him. Why? Oh, because it's weird that you're pointing out random dudes. Like, really weird. 

Ugh, my family. My little brother, who is like six, has his own version of complisults. 

He doesn't compliment people, oh no, he insults them. He just does it really, really, really specifically. It comes out complimentary because it's like, really? That's the biggest issue you came up with? Wow, I must not have many faults if you had to dig that deep. 

The other day he told me "You don't do well in school!" 

Uh, okay. 

And he told my brother "You're really sensitive!" 

I've been told that ladies like a sensitive guy. 

He told my mom, "You breathe too loud!" 

That's what you're going with? You're going with breathing volume?

I think it's really funny. It's one of the few super mean behaviors that I didn't teach him myself. He came up with it all on his own. 

I am so proud. 

In other new, I am worried that I am ruining my little brother. He is way too sarcastic for his age. Like, most six year olds are not sarcastic. It's just kind of obvious. But my little brother spends most of his time around me and my two other college-aged siblings. 

Yeah...he's picked up a few things. I'm pretty sure he's the only one in his first grade class who regularly uses the word "douche" and the phrase "look at this asshole" to describe people. 

I brought him to his meet the teacher night and we literally sat in the corner all night and snickered about the other kids. Who were all six. 

I am horrible. 

But I'm also hungry. 

So I think I'll go fetch a snack before class. 

XOXO Gossip Girl

(But actually Danielle.)

(Shit, is that XOXO thing like trademarked? Am I gonna get sued?) 

(Gimme a sec...okay, uh, disclaimer? I am not affiliated with Gossip Girl. Or the CW. Or the letters X and O. Okay, that should take care of it.) 

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.

Bad Choices are the Best Choies

Guys, I finally understand why people under twenty-one are not allowed to do fun things like drink and gamble.

 I kind of think that adults over twenty-one should not be allowed to do these things either, if I am being entirely honest. 

Let me elaborate. This weekend, I made a lot of bad choices. 

So many that I have decided to declare last Friday night as Danielle's Night of Really Bad Choices! (Note: there is capitalization involved because the choices were Really Bad and I felt like the extra emphasis was necessary.) 

But, no. It was just a night of really bad financial/life choices all around. First, my sister and I went out to expensive dinner and my wallet was sad about it. My stomach was happy because it was steak and I love steak, but that is another matter entirely.

 I also had several fruity girly drinks with dinner because I am an adult and I can drink fruity girly drinks without shame. They were really expensive and did not actually contain all the much alcohol. After like four appletinis (best drink, by the way) and a strawberry margarita, I was slightly buzzed, like, at best. 

I have no excuse for the fact that we went to the casino afterwards. Like, no excuse at all. But, yes, my sister and I went to the casino and I lost all of the money I had in my wallet. 

It wouldn't have been so bad if I would have lost it all, like, straight off the bat. But there was a point where I was legitimately doing a good job and winning money! I started off the night with thirty bucks.

 When you're a poor college student that is actually a lot of money. That is half of a power bill right there. Or a third of a grocery bill, minus the name-brand fruit juice. 

I lost ten of it real quick. There's a machine called the Zodiac Sisters and let me tell you, they are some fickle bitches. I've been to the casino three or four times and half of those times the Zodiac Sisters are like falling over each other to give me all of the money. My dad and I won a hundred bucks one time. It was great. I bought a pizza. 

But, no, other times they are just coldhearted and terrible fake people who take my ten dollars and give me nothing back. That's what happened this weekend. All of my money...poof! Gone! It was like magic,  but not the good kind. Dark magic. Evil magic. 

So, yeah. Ten dollars all gone. Three and a half bottles of name-brand crangrape juice. It was a dark ten minutes for me. 

But, once I got over that and stopped wailing in despair, my sister and I decided to play blackjack. Blackjack is a game that I am terrible at. I panic and do incredibly stupid shit like hit on an 18 or stand on a 12. 

But, no, my sister is super helpful and will usually stand next to me and tell me things like, "no Danielle that's stupid don't do that why are you making these choices no do you hate having money no no stop." So it works out. But, there were only two seats left and they were far away from each other so I had to rely on my own horrible decision making skills for once. 

I didn't lose all of my money right away. I started with twenty, got up to fifty and then refused to stop playing until I was back to zero. 

I know. 

I know. 

I know. 

I am not a functional adult and I do not make good choices. I've got that. I am crystal clear on that fact. So, yes. I left the casino minus thirty bucks which, when you make minimum wage like I do, is equal to about a whole shift of making stir fry. 

But, to celebrate our crushing and complete defeat, my sister and I went and got cigars flavored like tropical fruit. They were terrible, made me gag and I smoked mine anyway dammit. I am an adult I am so allowed to smoke cigars flavored like tropical fruit if I want to. 

After that, we almost got tattoos, wimped out on getting tattoos, went back to my apartment, watched mediocre stand-up comedians on netflix (none of them were women because women are terrible at stand-up) and ate lots of cookie dough ice cream. 

Bad choices! All of the things we did were bad choices! 

It was fun, though. 

But, yeah, the next day the people with the apartment above me made some bad choices of their own. And by the people above me, I actually mean the water-heater above me. It broke, leaked and ruined my bathroom ceiling. I woke up, went in to get a shower and saw hunks of drywall hanging down like flakes of skin hanging off of a gigantic, shedding lizard. 

I don't know.

It was unpleasant, water was still leaking down and I got hit in the head with a piece of ceiling. I called my landlord to fix it, as one does, and the maintenance guy came over, which was good of him. What wasn't good of him was how he went upstairs, stopped the leaking and then just kind of skedaddled without even kind of fixing my ceiling. 

I had to call back later and then they told me that I should be able to handle the whole "slowly crumbling bathroom ceiling" business on my own. Um, no, landlord people. That is not a thing I can do on my own. I do not have a husband or a boyfriend or even a close brofriend who I can force to do it for me. 

Even if I would have decided to date that midget little person dude, this would still be an issue. He couldn't have reached the ceiling. I mean, on a scale of one to Colorado, it is not that high, but still. That midget dude was really short. 

But, no, I can get by on my own usually. 

I can do a lot of things that most girls would have their male significant others do. I fixed a bottle-opener-shaped hole in my wall. I know how to replace fuses. I can grill burgers like a champ. I know how to fly-fish for gods sake, but I cannot fix my holey bathroom ceiling by myself, landlord. 

I was very whiny and persistent and they said he'd come back on Monday. I'm pretty sure they did that to make me stop calling them. The problem was that this was on Saturday. I didn't get to use the shower for like two days. It was horrible and I hated it. 

Anyway, my ceiling is fixed now thanks to my maintenance guy. I gave him a fist bump and told him thanks. I'm pretty sure I weirded him out. 

Whatever. 

Right now, I'm kind of chilling out in the library and avoiding thinking about work. I do not want to go to work. Do not want. 

See, I usually enjoy my job. Making stir fry is the bees knees or some other saying that means cool, but is more relevant socially. Fly? Swag? YOLO?

I don't know. 

But, no, whenever the weather is good, people decide to make the trek out to Elliot, the dining hall where I work. And the weather is really good today, guys. 

Work is going to suck, hardcore. It sucked yesterday too. I worked in the dishroom, so it was already less fun than usual. But we had so many people. Usually, we have like two-hundred and some-odd customers. That's a usual night for us. Last night we had 380, which is just insane. We haven't had that much since thanksgiving dinner last semester. 

I saw dishes in my dreams last night, guys. I'm pretty sure there is still nacho cheese lodged underneath my fingernails. 

Working in dining is so very glamorous. 

Later. 

Modifications and Mediocrity: The Danielle Story

I didn't have to wear a coat today, guys. 

It was a strange experience. I felt like one of those slim fast adds where a person loses a bunch of weight, but in this case it wasn't a bunch of weight. It was two jackets and a coat. 

I don't know. I'm pretty sure the weather is lulling me into a false sense of security. I'm going to get used to wearing short sleeves and then BAM! zero degrees again.

Indiana is sneaky like that. It lures you in with promises of corn and high obesity rates, but before you know it you're walking to work in zero degree weather and the sidewalks are super sub-par because Muncie is literally one of the worst places on the planet. 

Living here is kinda funny in the way that women comedians are funny...so, not actually funny and more just uncomfortable. And there are lots of jokes about "that time of the month" wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And you keep looking at the clock and wondering if you should leave or just stick it out and get sloppily drunk because, let's face it, there is no way you are getting through this evening sober. 

And...that metaphor got away from me a bit. Moving on. 

So, I saw some people from high school this weekend when I was judging speech state this weekend. While I was there, I crushed the dreams of like a hundred children. It was a super rewarding experience...five out of five, would recommend. But, no, I saw a bunch of people who go to places like IU and Purdue and they're super proud of their colleges and their life choices. 

And whenever somebody asked them about school, they had exciting things to talk about and large amounts of school pride to display. Whenever somebody who went to Ball State was asked about school, they would sigh rather sadly, look out a rain-streaked window and shake their head slowly as they thought about the long past springtime of their youth. 

Spoiler alert...that was me. I was the one staring despondently out the window because Muncie is secretly a gateway to the underworld. 

Moral of this really stupid and rambling story: Do not trust Indiana or its weather. Do not trust.

But, no. There are so many things I was supposed to do this spring late winter break. And somehow I managed to not do any of them. Literally none. I am a winner. At life. And at making terrible choices.

Spring late winter break was weird guys.

So I bought skyrim for my computer. And...Welp. That sentence pretty much sums up my whole break.

For those if you who are woefully uniformed, Skyrim is a video game (or, let's be real, beautiful, cinematic adventure that is a landmark in both storytelling and awesomeness) where you get to fight dragons. 

What's better than fighting dragons? 

Oh, that's right. Literally nothing.

But, yeah. That's what I spent my break doing...exploring Skyrim and murdering dragons. 'Twas an epic quest, let me tell you. 


And that would be fine and all but, I get way too into things. 

It's a pretty basic component of my personality. If there is a normal-person level of liking things, I will at least triple that. If I has just a tad less self-awareness and a tad more money, I would buy or fashion skyrim armor and wear it on the daily. 

(I get like this about a lot of stuff, guys. Like, a lot of stuff. I am not a well-adjusted adult. I named my cat after a fictional space marine.) 

But...yes. I am way too into this game right now. Unhealthily so. There are these things called mods that make pretty minuscule changes to the game. I've downloaded like five dozen, just, graphics mods. They change completely random things like making the colors slightly more vibrant or the stars a little brighter or the texture on the grass more dense.

I have wasted hours on that shit. And that's not even starting in on the stupid mods that do stuff like make the enemies curse when you punch them. I found one that puts monocles and tophats on all the mudcrabs.

They are hella classy, yo.

And speaking of things that are hella classy...

I finally finished all of the apple juice wine in my fridge. So...I no longer have to triple check my apple juice before being sure it is in fact apple juice and not wine. 

Ugh. Guys, I hate wine. Even apple juice wine. It is just gross. 

Also, it seems that "apple juice wine" is a legitimate phrase that I am using. I am at a point in my life where I say that and I am referencing an actual thing.

I am...a hot mess. Cold mess? Lukewarm mess. Feels about right. 

Speaking of my appearance and its temperature, I am about five-hundred percent done with, like, having hair. I hate my hair. It is stupid and too long and, like, four different colors because of all the times I've dyed it. 

Maybe I should just shave my head and be done with it. 

Would I look good bald?

No.

Would it be worth it anyway?

Possibly.

Ugh. Life is actually horrible. I hate college and also Muncie. I hate dealing with people and things. People and things are terrible. I just want to become a professional writer and make up stories about people who are way more together than me.

Real life is so dull.

The mud crabs are tiny and they have no top hats. Also, the only way to improve graphics here is to wear my stupid hipster shades.

Ugh. Modifications needed guys. So needed right now.