Well, with the (very last minute) submission of my final undergraduate paper, I am now finished with my Bachelor of Science degree in Media Communications, with a minor in History.
Scratch that. I'll only get a minor if I managed to get a decent grade in my History class. I thought I was smart until I took that class. Way to ruin a girl's self esteem, douche.
But, I'm still the same person. I still love jeggings, and Snuggies, and Harry Potter. Just because I'm slightly more educated than the average 13-year-old doesn't mean that I'm better than them. I still wholeheartedly appreciate High School Musical, HogwartsLive, and Miley Cyrus smoking out of a bong.
What have I learned?
- I learned that going to college doesn't necessarily mean you will be surrounded by smart people.
- I learned that college admissions programs don't exactly tell you the whole truth.
- I learned that engineering is way too boring for me.
- I learned that I love writing stuff that I think is funny, but no one else does.
- I learned that I am way lazier than I ever thought I was.
- I learned that I am the very worst kind of procrastinator.
- I learned that I should have appreciated high school and its positive effects on my metabolism.
- I learned that I will never buy a PC as long as I live, unless Mac somehow becomes shit.
- I learned that you can meet amazing people that counteract the douchebags.
- I learned that I have amazing bullshitting capabilities.
Most importantly, I learned how to make this.
I'm currently at my graduation party, which consists of me, my sister, and her friend drinking, smoking hookah, watching Elf, and being online.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Snow.
We have received some snow here in the D. And honestly . . . it's not that much. We've had much worse. So why is everyone and their mother (and grandmother, and aunt, and second cousin) complaining?
Driving in it is not fun. I know this; however, being a born-and-bred Metro Detroiter, I'm fairly used to it. If you live here, you learned to drive in the snow . . . at least I hope you did. The traffic would beg to differ, people still going 80 in 696 when it's slick with ice, passing me because I'm going 55 in the right lane. That's cool, you can do that. But if you spin out and I crash into you, I WILL CUT YOU.
I am one of those rare people that likes snow. I don't mind shoveling (as long as it's not over 8-10 inches), I like sledding, skiing, snowball fights, etc. I also love cute winter clothing like coats, scarves, hats, and so on. Sweaters? Count me in, because they minimize cleavage. Boots? I like it when my feet are toasty warm.
I like living in a climate where we get four seasons. I LOVE summer, don't get me wrong, but things like Christmas don't seem like Christmas without snow. I would much rather have the weather be cold and snowy than cold, dull, and gray.
Remember how pissed Kevin McAllister was in Home Alone 2 when his family wanted to go to Florida for Christmas? I COMPLETELY identify with that. If you don't like snow, MOVE.
Thus ends this lackluster blog post. I know I've been slacking lately, but I'm busy. So just nut up and deal with it.
Driving in it is not fun. I know this; however, being a born-and-bred Metro Detroiter, I'm fairly used to it. If you live here, you learned to drive in the snow . . . at least I hope you did. The traffic would beg to differ, people still going 80 in 696 when it's slick with ice, passing me because I'm going 55 in the right lane. That's cool, you can do that. But if you spin out and I crash into you, I WILL CUT YOU.
I am one of those rare people that likes snow. I don't mind shoveling (as long as it's not over 8-10 inches), I like sledding, skiing, snowball fights, etc. I also love cute winter clothing like coats, scarves, hats, and so on. Sweaters? Count me in, because they minimize cleavage. Boots? I like it when my feet are toasty warm.
I like living in a climate where we get four seasons. I LOVE summer, don't get me wrong, but things like Christmas don't seem like Christmas without snow. I would much rather have the weather be cold and snowy than cold, dull, and gray.
Remember how pissed Kevin McAllister was in Home Alone 2 when his family wanted to go to Florida for Christmas? I COMPLETELY identify with that. If you don't like snow, MOVE.
Thus ends this lackluster blog post. I know I've been slacking lately, but I'm busy. So just nut up and deal with it.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Procrastinitis
A sad affliction, and yet, I revel in it.
I got my acceptance e-mail from U of Birmingham in the U.K. for their History, Film and Television MA (yes, we now live in a world where the "large envelope" has been replaced with a "looks-like-spam-I-almost-missed-it" email). This is, of course, fantastic news, but there's still so much to consider. I've yet to complete my applications to Northwestern and Central Michigan, and, if all goes according to plan and I get accepted, the whole decision is basically going to come down to money. The good old weak-ass American dollar -- which, in my bank account, almost all of it is loan money which needs to be paid back. A sad state of affairs, in which important decisions possibly determining the course of my life must come down to how much debt I'm willing to rack up.
Alas, I digress.
The topic of this post is procrastination. It is true that I have no less than 5 major tasks to complete before the end of my last semester of my undergraduate degree. A group project (crafting a wiki) for Social Media, a presentation/7-10 pg research paper for the same class. A daunting 10-pg paper for my history class, which I'm sure will be atrocious since I have no idea what to write about (that, and the fact that my teacher fails any paper he can cut down by 1/3 or more.) My short film which is serving as my senior project. And a final group project for my Broadcast Studio class. Oh, and final exams.
And what am I doing?
Blogging. Reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Watching TV. Trolling Twitter. Sleeping.
This happens every single semester. It has never failed. I have reached the point in the semester when the quality of work no longer matters to me, it's the mere fact of getting it done that motivates me. I start out as a quasi-perfectionist, and my work slowly decreases in quality until the end of November, where I figuratively "throw in the towel" much too early.
I rarely complain about the time frames for assignments, because I know that my time management skills are horrific. With the exception of the history paper, none of my assignments are particularly difficult or unreasonable. I just hit this wall where productivity dips into the negative values. Even my usually rampant creative juices just evaporate.
If only there were some magic pill I could take that would suddenly burn the desire to succeed into my soul.
I know I am not alone, and that gives me hope. Hope that this disease will someday be eradicated, that we may live in a perfect world where all students get their work done in plenty of time, have no fun, and don't like to party and rot their brains with television.
If only.
I got my acceptance e-mail from U of Birmingham in the U.K. for their History, Film and Television MA (yes, we now live in a world where the "large envelope" has been replaced with a "looks-like-spam-I-almost-missed-it" email). This is, of course, fantastic news, but there's still so much to consider. I've yet to complete my applications to Northwestern and Central Michigan, and, if all goes according to plan and I get accepted, the whole decision is basically going to come down to money. The good old weak-ass American dollar -- which, in my bank account, almost all of it is loan money which needs to be paid back. A sad state of affairs, in which important decisions possibly determining the course of my life must come down to how much debt I'm willing to rack up.
Alas, I digress.
The topic of this post is procrastination. It is true that I have no less than 5 major tasks to complete before the end of my last semester of my undergraduate degree. A group project (crafting a wiki) for Social Media, a presentation/7-10 pg research paper for the same class. A daunting 10-pg paper for my history class, which I'm sure will be atrocious since I have no idea what to write about (that, and the fact that my teacher fails any paper he can cut down by 1/3 or more.) My short film which is serving as my senior project. And a final group project for my Broadcast Studio class. Oh, and final exams.
And what am I doing?
Blogging. Reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Watching TV. Trolling Twitter. Sleeping.
This happens every single semester. It has never failed. I have reached the point in the semester when the quality of work no longer matters to me, it's the mere fact of getting it done that motivates me. I start out as a quasi-perfectionist, and my work slowly decreases in quality until the end of November, where I figuratively "throw in the towel" much too early.
I rarely complain about the time frames for assignments, because I know that my time management skills are horrific. With the exception of the history paper, none of my assignments are particularly difficult or unreasonable. I just hit this wall where productivity dips into the negative values. Even my usually rampant creative juices just evaporate.
If only there were some magic pill I could take that would suddenly burn the desire to succeed into my soul.
I know I am not alone, and that gives me hope. Hope that this disease will someday be eradicated, that we may live in a perfect world where all students get their work done in plenty of time, have no fun, and don't like to party and rot their brains with television.
If only.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
My Girl Is Here!
Katherine is here with me.
Life is good.
Forget school, I'm hangin' with my effing best friend.
YEAH THAT MEANS YOU HISTORY OF EUROPE TO 1500.
Life is good.
Forget school, I'm hangin' with my effing best friend.
YEAH THAT MEANS YOU HISTORY OF EUROPE TO 1500.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
A Heartfelt Apology
There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must humbly beg for forgiveness. Even the best of the best make mistakes, since we are all human (regardless of whether we are wizards or Muggles.) And I realized today that I was horribly, horribly wrong, and so I must apologize to the masses.
I would like to extend a sincere and heartfelt apology to any girl I have ever made fun of for wearing jeggings.
Let me explain. Jeggings are leggings that look like jeans. I used to make fun of girls that wore them because they are tacky, overpriced tights that let junk hang out that no one wants to see. I have never been able to bring myself to wear leggings as pants, even going so far as to wear shorts over leggings (a.k.a. my “stupid Sunday outfit”). LEGGINGS DO NOT EQUAL PANTS.
However, I have been forced to reevaluate my stance. The other day at Target, I stopped for a quick look around for a shirt for the upcoming meet and greet with Starkid Productions. Finding nothing, I was on my way out of the store when I saw a rack of jeans. “$15.99 each!”
That’s a FANTASTIC price for jeans. So, on my way to the register, I grabbed two pairs, thinking that if they didn’t fit I’d just take them back.
Imagine my surprise when, this morning as I was pulling on a pair, I realized they don’t have zippers. And they are surprisingly stretchy. And though they feel and look like jeans, they are lighter than air.
I glanced at the tag, and my stomach dropped.
JEGGINGS.
How could I be so naïve? So impulsive? I wanted to sink into a ball and cry. I did just that. And you know what I felt?
Nothing.
No button digging into my stomach. No restrictions of movement. No, I felt like I wasn’t wearing pants. Because I wasn’t. I was wearing jeggings.
And then I knew there was no going back.
So, all you proud jeggings wearers, I applaud you. As long as you keep your junk tucked in, go on wearing them, because wearing leg coverings that look like pants but feel like air should be a basic human right.
I would like to extend a sincere and heartfelt apology to any girl I have ever made fun of for wearing jeggings.
Let me explain. Jeggings are leggings that look like jeans. I used to make fun of girls that wore them because they are tacky, overpriced tights that let junk hang out that no one wants to see. I have never been able to bring myself to wear leggings as pants, even going so far as to wear shorts over leggings (a.k.a. my “stupid Sunday outfit”). LEGGINGS DO NOT EQUAL PANTS.
However, I have been forced to reevaluate my stance. The other day at Target, I stopped for a quick look around for a shirt for the upcoming meet and greet with Starkid Productions. Finding nothing, I was on my way out of the store when I saw a rack of jeans. “$15.99 each!”
That’s a FANTASTIC price for jeans. So, on my way to the register, I grabbed two pairs, thinking that if they didn’t fit I’d just take them back.
Imagine my surprise when, this morning as I was pulling on a pair, I realized they don’t have zippers. And they are surprisingly stretchy. And though they feel and look like jeans, they are lighter than air.
I glanced at the tag, and my stomach dropped.
JEGGINGS.
How could I be so naïve? So impulsive? I wanted to sink into a ball and cry. I did just that. And you know what I felt?
Nothing.
No button digging into my stomach. No restrictions of movement. No, I felt like I wasn’t wearing pants. Because I wasn’t. I was wearing jeggings.
And then I knew there was no going back.
So, all you proud jeggings wearers, I applaud you. As long as you keep your junk tucked in, go on wearing them, because wearing leg coverings that look like pants but feel like air should be a basic human right.
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Sleeved Blanket
I am a proud member of the Snuggie Cult. I am not ashamed to admit that I love wrapping myself up in my fleece leopard-print sleeved blanket and having the free use of my arms to change the TV station, play on the computer, or eat massive amounts of Better Made Barbecue chips.
I don't understand why people are so against these wonderful warm envelopes of love. One of the major arguments is that "it's just like a backwards robe!" Excuse you, but my robe does not cover my entire body and tuck around every inch of me, concealing me in a warm pocket of comfort. My robe is shorter than my body so my feet stick out and this hinders the mobility that the Snuggie provides.
It is also particularly excellent for smoking hookah, something I realize that not everyone condones. However, it is quite nice, in the winter, to sit in my bedroom with the window open and Katie next to me, in her zebra-print Snuggie, ably passing the hose to and fro without fear of clumsily knocking over the apparatus and burning a hole in my crappy brown carpet. Out of respect for my home, I employ the Snuggie to keep my window open and dissipate the smoke -- my house does not smell like "The Dope Den", which is what my mother calls my bedroom (there is no marijuana involved, only tobacco, Mother Dearest just thinks she's being clever.)
And the commercials. THE COMMERCIALS! Pure marketing genius.
Seriously, GOD BLESS SNUGGIE SEASON. I'm so glad you're back.
I don't understand why people are so against these wonderful warm envelopes of love. One of the major arguments is that "it's just like a backwards robe!" Excuse you, but my robe does not cover my entire body and tuck around every inch of me, concealing me in a warm pocket of comfort. My robe is shorter than my body so my feet stick out and this hinders the mobility that the Snuggie provides.
It is also particularly excellent for smoking hookah, something I realize that not everyone condones. However, it is quite nice, in the winter, to sit in my bedroom with the window open and Katie next to me, in her zebra-print Snuggie, ably passing the hose to and fro without fear of clumsily knocking over the apparatus and burning a hole in my crappy brown carpet. Out of respect for my home, I employ the Snuggie to keep my window open and dissipate the smoke -- my house does not smell like "The Dope Den", which is what my mother calls my bedroom (there is no marijuana involved, only tobacco, Mother Dearest just thinks she's being clever.)
And the commercials. THE COMMERCIALS! Pure marketing genius.
Seriously, GOD BLESS SNUGGIE SEASON. I'm so glad you're back.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
What Do Wizard Teenagers Do?
Awhile ago, my soul mate Katie and I had a long, drawn out, (beer-induced) discussion about what the students at Hogwarts do in their spare time. This is, of course, when they are not working diligently on their wizard homework or playing Quidditch or boning in the Restricted Sex-ion. What do they do to relax? How do they get crazy? You can't tell me that sneaking out after curfew to go sit and watch Hagrid hatch dragons is the riskiest thing they do. We decided that these activities probably differ from house to house, so here is a detailed analysis of our discussion conclusions.
1) GRYFFINDOR
Intoxicant of choice: Beer and/or Jaeger bombs
Activities: swordfights with Godric Gryffindor sword replicas, Gryffindor Beer Drinking Olympics, the Harry Potter drinking game (anytime his name is mentioned you do a Jaeger bomb)
Why: Gryffindors are brave and courageous, and liquid courage only intensifies these traits. Gryffindors would be the ones to try to Bungee jump with Extendable Ears, use centaurs as mechanical bulls, and graffiti the castle with things like BALLS DEEP in ink that won't erase. They would play parkour on the moving staircases and let all the house-elves out to run races through the corridors, all while taking bets on who will pass out in the Great Hall and get peed on by Mrs. Norris. They would also be the ones to upload all the incriminating photos to Facebook because THEY DO WHAT THEY WANT and Dumbledore was a Gryffindor so that absolves them of all fault.
2) HUFFLEPUFF
Intoxicant of choice: Marijuana
Activities: getting the munchies and raiding the kitchens, since their common room is right near it. Spacing out and staring at the fire looking for famous faces to materialize. Listening to Celestina Warbeck on the wizard wireless.
Why: If it weren't for Cedric Diggory, we would say the Hufflepuffs are saints who do nothing but sit around and knit and smile at each other. But Diggs and his crew had to be badass in some way, so we figured they would go with weed to mellow out and forget all the happy Hufflepuffiness that surrounds them on a daily basis and makes them hate life.
3) RAVENCLAW
Intoxicant of choice: Wine and/or Adderall
Activities: sitting in big chairs with glasses of port having fake intellectual conversations (i.e. "Why does wine give you such a bad hangover?"), playing trivia-based drinking games, staying up all night doing homework, having boisterous debates such as "Grindelwald vs. Voldemort: Who Was More Clever?" which devolve into fistfights
Why: Everyone knows Ravenclaws are ridiculously smart, clever, witty, intelligent people. So naturally, wine is the drink of choice. But they are still teenagers, so they binge drink with it. Their drinking games have to be high-brow, so they base them on logic. The debates get pretty intense, which is why they have learned to be excellent boxers. And when exams approach, everyone at Hogwarts knows to get in good with the prefects of Ravenclaw, who control the castle's stock of behavioral meds. How else would an entire house have a reputation of being insanely intelligent? They study all day and party all night!
4) SLYTHERIN
Intoxicant of choice: Expensive vodka and/or cocaine
Activities: Pin the Dark Mark on the Mudblood, Voldemortic rituals, drawing penises on people who pass out, Take A Shot For Every Death Eater Relative You Can Prove (family trees/heraldic evidence required), Slytherin Fight Club
Why: Slytherin parties are the wizard equivalent of high-brow Manhattan raves. Techno blaring, a VIP lounge, cocaine gift bags. They can afford it because they are wizarding royalty. There's a dress code and house-elves bring you Grey Goose cocktails in Swarovski crystal glasses. When everyone gets really shitty, the Slytherin FIght Club emerges, where people bet on how much pure blood will be spilled on the dungeon floor.
Also, this actually happens, since once upon a time I was a wizard teenager, so this is a first-hand account.
1) GRYFFINDOR
Intoxicant of choice: Beer and/or Jaeger bombs
Activities: swordfights with Godric Gryffindor sword replicas, Gryffindor Beer Drinking Olympics, the Harry Potter drinking game (anytime his name is mentioned you do a Jaeger bomb)
Why: Gryffindors are brave and courageous, and liquid courage only intensifies these traits. Gryffindors would be the ones to try to Bungee jump with Extendable Ears, use centaurs as mechanical bulls, and graffiti the castle with things like BALLS DEEP in ink that won't erase. They would play parkour on the moving staircases and let all the house-elves out to run races through the corridors, all while taking bets on who will pass out in the Great Hall and get peed on by Mrs. Norris. They would also be the ones to upload all the incriminating photos to Facebook because THEY DO WHAT THEY WANT and Dumbledore was a Gryffindor so that absolves them of all fault.
2) HUFFLEPUFF
Intoxicant of choice: Marijuana
Activities: getting the munchies and raiding the kitchens, since their common room is right near it. Spacing out and staring at the fire looking for famous faces to materialize. Listening to Celestina Warbeck on the wizard wireless.
Why: If it weren't for Cedric Diggory, we would say the Hufflepuffs are saints who do nothing but sit around and knit and smile at each other. But Diggs and his crew had to be badass in some way, so we figured they would go with weed to mellow out and forget all the happy Hufflepuffiness that surrounds them on a daily basis and makes them hate life.
3) RAVENCLAW
Intoxicant of choice: Wine and/or Adderall
Activities: sitting in big chairs with glasses of port having fake intellectual conversations (i.e. "Why does wine give you such a bad hangover?"), playing trivia-based drinking games, staying up all night doing homework, having boisterous debates such as "Grindelwald vs. Voldemort: Who Was More Clever?" which devolve into fistfights
Why: Everyone knows Ravenclaws are ridiculously smart, clever, witty, intelligent people. So naturally, wine is the drink of choice. But they are still teenagers, so they binge drink with it. Their drinking games have to be high-brow, so they base them on logic. The debates get pretty intense, which is why they have learned to be excellent boxers. And when exams approach, everyone at Hogwarts knows to get in good with the prefects of Ravenclaw, who control the castle's stock of behavioral meds. How else would an entire house have a reputation of being insanely intelligent? They study all day and party all night!
4) SLYTHERIN
Intoxicant of choice: Expensive vodka and/or cocaine
Activities: Pin the Dark Mark on the Mudblood, Voldemortic rituals, drawing penises on people who pass out, Take A Shot For Every Death Eater Relative You Can Prove (family trees/heraldic evidence required), Slytherin Fight Club
Why: Slytherin parties are the wizard equivalent of high-brow Manhattan raves. Techno blaring, a VIP lounge, cocaine gift bags. They can afford it because they are wizarding royalty. There's a dress code and house-elves bring you Grey Goose cocktails in Swarovski crystal glasses. When everyone gets really shitty, the Slytherin FIght Club emerges, where people bet on how much pure blood will be spilled on the dungeon floor.
Also, this actually happens, since once upon a time I was a wizard teenager, so this is a first-hand account.
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