I'm done trying because it was obviously a futile effort. I'm done.
Here's an amusing tidbit for you all (yes, both of you):
Today I tried to give the "rock on" hand sign (also known as the "bull" hand sign), but instead I accidentally flashed the "shocker".
I pondered this cruel accident of fate.I rarely throw up the "shocker" and I am, in fact, more likely to throw up Spock's peace sign.
So, is this a sort of Freudian slip or other psychological malady? Who knows?
Luckily, however, no one was around to witness my untimely hand gesture. Don't ask why I was sporting the "rock on/shocker" hand sign while no one was around -- I just was, okay?!?
Geez. :: Nosy bastards::
This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
I got my new phone this week! It's pretty freaking kick ass and I love it. It's an orange slider and it has these amazing features that blow my old phone out of the water. The only problem I've found with the phone is the small numbers. They're flat and hidden in the recess of the slider so the *, 0, and # are especially hard to press. I've more or less solved the problem by using the T9 function, but it has taken some getting used to. This phone has amazing camera picture that lets me adjust the size, the shutter speed, and a whole slew of other options. It's pretty much amazing. It also has pretty lame ringtones, but I'm hoping to bluetooth some from my computer as soon as the adapter gets here. All in all, I picked a winner with this phone. You should all bow down to it's majesty.
So I got some bad news today from the eye doctor. Apparently, sleeping in my contacts have dried out my eyes really badly, a lot worse than I ever imagined. My corneas are so dry that they have dry patches all over them, and they are trying so hard to breathe that they have become swollen with neovessels running all through them.
See that big blood vessel on the right side? My cornea is covered with those. Needless to say I got chastised by my doctor and I have been forbidden to wear contacts for a week, which sucks ballz because my glasses are not up to date and I start classes on Tuesday. But I just have to man it up so that my eyes will get better.
Let's just add all this to the fact that I have been, unknowingly, driving a death trap around. I got new tires on Sakura and when they checked the brakes they found something pretty interesting.
A small collection of recipes for those who need a little adventure in their life.
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Sneaky Ninja Cake:
1 Cake
3 Ninjas
1 Elevator
1 RA
Take Cake, surround with Ninjas. Get on Elevator with RA. Distract RA with feet. Get off Elevator without RA noticing Cake.
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Jessica Pie:
1 Beating
1 Child's Room
1 Mother's Tears
Beat child until bottom is black and blue. Send to Room. Mix in Mother's guilty Tears for 10-12 minutes at room temperature.
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Drew Stew:
1 Beating
1 Child's Room
1 Angry Parent
Beat child until crying. Send to Room to simmer. Add Angry Parent cussing in hallway for 5-10 minutes until cool.
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Tatiana Martini:
1 Misbehaving Child
1 Angry Mexican Mom
1 Flip Flop
Take Misbehaving Child. Add Flip Flop. Chase with Angry Mexican Mother and a lime.
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Casey Sandwich:
1 Wooden Spoon
1 Scary Voice
Take Spoon and add Scary Voice. Shake at child. Destroy child psychologically until well aged.
Do you ever get those songs stuck in your head that just seem to describe exactly how you're feeling at the moment/day/week/month? I get that a lot. The last month or so I had Frou Frou's Hear Me Out stuck in my head like a record on repeat. Now I've got Holding Out For a Hero playing for me and it seems to describe exactly how I feel about men right now. This could partly be do to the fact that I recently read Medea, but it does seem like chivalry is dead, despite what my Hist Cost/Decor professor says. I know that there are some really great guys out there; they just need to step up.
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need
Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me
Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like the fire in my blood
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
So, I have spent the last two hours with Casey McKasum Pants watching Titan A.E., one of my all time favorite movies. Overall, it was a nice two hours. I got to watch an awesome movie and spent some time with Cheese before he leaves for break. But it felt so awkward. I don't know if he felt it too, but it was weird for me. I'm going to blame at least 2/3 of the awkwardness on not having anything to work on. Idle hands are awkward, and all. Hopefully it was just me. Yay for Spring Break!!
As I was walking to class, a few things crossed my mind; things like: my shoes are untied, hey that guy is pretty cute, and the meaning of life.
Everyone has thought about the meaning of life at some point in their lives; some more than others *coughemocough*. The meaning of life is one of those topics that are so vague, so ambiguous that everyone has their own ideas about it. I lump it with topics such as love, God, and women. The difference is that the meaning of life is not a topic that you discuss with just anyone. It's a special topic. The only way to give the topic justice is to brood about it in the shower or on the walk to class, then write about it in a depressing and melodramatic fashion in your blog or journal; both if you think you've come up with something really amazing and revolutionary (which I promise you haven't).
So, here's my take on the meaning of life; it's all about your dreams. I'm not talking about your hopes and goals; I'm talking about the dreams you have when you fall asleep in class or early in the morning before your alarm goes off. Dreams are the key to life. This may scare some people. I mean, I've had some pretty intense and scary dreams myself. But think about it--dreams are the things you don't give thought to during the day. They encompass everything from memories to fears. Dreams are the things that prove you're alive. It's unknown if animals have dreams, but if you've ever seen a dog run in its sleep or a cat fall off a dresser because it had a bad dream, then you already know the answer. Plants may grow and reproduce, but they're not alive. Not in the same way animals are. They don't dream. Inanimate object may represent life, after all, some can walk or talk, even process, but they can't dream. That's what sets us apart.
That's the meaning of life.
Copyright pending. lol

Aww. Sadness ensues. Camp Ship's flag is at half-mast. read more
on DONE!!!