I Write Stories About Spilled Milk

 I found the winner for this week, but the contest is far from over! There's about seven months left, so  keep those blog submissions coming! I've gotten some amazing links.The interview will be up this Friday. Who won? That is for my minions to know and for me to find out. Don't know what I'm talking about? Click here.

Yesterday, I realized that I have serious issues. This may not be news to you, but I discovered yet another thing about myself as a person and a writer that scares me...

To me, everything is a potential short story or novel. Not joking. Sunday at church, someone sat on my purse. Normal people would think, "Hey, get off my purse." or "Don't crush my granola bar, you fool." Not me. My first thought was about writing a short story about a slightly overweight older man, with bad arthritis in his knees who happens to sit on a woman's (who is also old) purse... The story follows their epic journey of freeing the old woman's purse from...his backside's...oppression and then they fall in love.


A couple of weeks ago I was at Costco and a woman was arrested for stealing...something. I don't know what it was, but I really, really, hope it was a giant package of rubber chickens. I don't really want to go into the storyline that came to mind with that particular experience...I don't want to corrupt your innocent and relatively sane minds. It involved robotic aliens and the bending of wills...I'll leave it at that.

I worry about what this means for my already-unraveling sanity. Even when something bad happens, that thought is not too far from the front of my mind. Is life just a gigantic novel waiting to be written? YES...I mean...no...um...

Does this mean I have no real perception of reality?

Possibly, but enough self-psychoanalysis. Here are 7 things about me, as promised:

1.  I am a Christian who is crazy in love with her Savior. 
2.  I LOVE SOCKS. SO MUCH. Knee highs, fuzzy socks, Santa socks etc. It's not so much that I like to the wear them. I've never really liked wearing  socks or shoes, but I like the idea of wearing them. Because I like the idea so much, I end up wearing them all the time...Wait. I don't think that made any sense. 
3. I am the ruler of all cheese. I rule it, but I don't eat it. 
4.  I rewrote my first novel approximately six times. I am in the process of finishing my current novel (which I hate), so I can start my new, COOL novel. Which is about...something.
5.  I'm going to change the world. Not joking. 
6. I am in the process of creating my own language. Not just gibberish. It's going to have grammar and modifiers and so on. I will blog about this soon! 
7.  I will now use this 7th item to explain the name of my blog. Yay! When I was little, my dad used to call me a "social butterfly." I was friends with everyone and I loved to talk and to meet new people. As I got older though, this kind of started to change. Instead of breaking out of my shell, I turned into a self-proclaimed hermit; a recluse, by choice, if you will. It's not that I don't like people. I love people as much as I did when I was a (smaller) kid. I'm just not as social as I used to. Also, something deep and profound about not wanting to grow up.

Relax, screaming isn't going to make the boat sink any slower.

I don't really know what this picture has to do with anything, but it looks cool

Ah, school starts tomorrow. Back to the grind. The overtime. The hours of toil over Boo Radley's  glowing screen. The stress of deadlines I can barely make. Compulsively checking my grades every chance I get. A sudden rise in my blood pressure and the possibility of gray hair. Joy! No, that wasn't sarcasm. I'm excited. Hence, the exclamation point.

I love school. I do. It's amazing. I love it. Have I mentioned that I love it? Sometimes, it just leaves me a tad frazzled. Like now, for example, I should be getting a jumpstart on my school work by doing my reading for my literature course, but I'd rather finish Mockingjay. Of course, with all the work that must be done I find my self walking in circles and checking Facebook every five minutes instead of even reading for pleasure. I can't relax and I can't work. I'm in limbo. Like when a movie isn't in theaters anymore, but it isn't on DVD either. Or like puberty. -shudder-

Because I can't relax myself, I'm going to help you relax.

*cue Hawaiian hula dancing music*

Below are the cures to some of the most common habits induced by stress.

FUZZY SLIPPERS O.O 

PACING

If you find yourself pacing, sit down.

BITING NAILS

Chop off your fingers. Sounds gruesome, I know, but you can always grow new ones.

What?

You can't? Only lizards and robots can do that?

Well...you can always get cyborg fingers. Who doesn't want some of those?

BITING LIP

Tear out your teeth. Avoid solid food after. This will also solve the nail-biting problem.

BANGING HEAD AGAINST WALL

Distance yourself from walls.

NERVOUS EATING

Lock yourself in a closet. I'm not sure how this helps...it just does.

PULLING HAIR OUT

Shave head.

SETTING FIRE TO RANDOM OBJECTS

STOP.

Not all-inclusive, but certainly helpful, if  I do say so myself. Just remember, relax. Hyperventilating won't make the bullet wound hurt any less.

Have any other stress-induced habits you need help with? Tell me and I'll address it in a blog post.

New Year, New Ponderings

Hello my dear little readers. It's been far too long. I would say that I've missed you, but I don't know half of you so I would be lying and I'm nothing if not brutally honest.

...

You're right. I lie all the time. It's New Year's Eve so what the platypus, I'VE MISSED ALL OF YOU.
Hope that lie made you feel warm and sticky inside.

So, tonight, I'm ending the year with a fizzle not a bang. I'm even going to bed early. Oh yeah, I'm a trend setter. Instead of some celebratory blog post or fond memories of the year, I am going to ponder random things that may or may not make any sense to the average human being. Of course, I'm not human at all, so my understanding of human logic is limited.

For example, this evening I was looking over my eBay record. It's spotless. Everyone says I'm an excellent buyer and that I make lightning fast payments. It's the most ridiculous thing ever, but I feel like showcasing this on my Facebook profile. I feel like printing it out and framing it. Here I have to wonder if this is my inner nerd shining through or if I have some other deep-seated issue. Of course, I have a lot of issues, so it makes it confusing to ever isolate just one of them. For now, we will assume that I'm just the supreme empress of the nerds and that it is my duty to be proud of such things.

I think too much and this made me wonder what it would be like to be a successful, big-shot eBay seller. I've never sold anything on eBay before, (although I've considered it) so this is all just speculation, but this is how I think a day in the life would go:

2 pm: Wake up.

2:01 pm: Stretch; admire gold-plated ceiling with cheese engravings

2:07 pm: Go back to sleep.

4:05 pm: Wake back up. Check for sells.

4:09 pm: Dance in my money.

4:30 pm: Have old decrepit woman with a pet hippo from next door yell at me for counting my money too loudly.

Old Lady yelling at me with her Pet Hippo
 who is wearing makeup for some inexplicable reason

5:00 pm: Have someone bring me a sammich.

5:30 pm: Sell stuff.

6:00 pm: Smell my money.

6:00: 01 pm: Sneeze because I'm allergic to paper.

6:02 pm: Laugh hysterically for no apparent reason.

6:30 pm: Watch season finale of Oprah on DVD.

6:35 pm: Pause season finale of Oprah to laugh at a funny face someone is making.

7:00 pm: Work on my jet pack blueprints.

8:00 pm: Sing my capybara twins to sleep.

9:00 pm: Sing loudly to the "Double Rainbow Song." Over and over again.

10:00 pm: Wake up the twins with my obnoxious singing. Soothe them and put them back to sleep.

11:00 pm: Skip down the street in a toga and pirate boots.

11:15 pm: Have neighbors yelling at me again, threatening me with their flying hippos.

12:00 am: Devise world domination plans.

3:00 am: Train spandex-wearing cockroach minions.

4:00 am: Train pet platypus.

5:00 am: Eat cheese.

5:01 am: Attend Cheese consul meeting.

5:04 am: Attend Capybara Parents Association (CPA) meeting

5:06 am: Sleep through CPA meeting

7:00 am: Go to eBay headquarters where my powerseller office awaits.

7:01 am: Go back to sleep.

END OF DAY.

I've never sold anything on eBay, but I HAVE done some research. I think this step by step is the closest you'll get to a day in the life.

On a completely separate and random note, WHAT HAPPENS AT PARTIES? Really. I have no clue. It's not that I've never been to a party before, it's just that...I've never been all that attentive. Can someone fill me in? Do you sit and stare at people? And what's the point of mingling anyway? Why can't you just talk to the people you like and ignore all the other losers *cough* I mean people. What's the point of parties? Why are they fun? If you don't like to dance, talk to people, eat, or interact with humans on any level, can you even have fun at a party? Is there a hermit friendly alternative to parties?

Are they a conspiracy of the garden gnomes? If so, I have a message.
Squabs, if you're reading this, know that your plan will not succeed.

It's 10:15 and it's time to go to bed, people of the world.

Happy New Year.
G'night

How to Cope With Facebook Stalking

Just. Say. No.

You know what I hate? Crumbly muffins.

You know what I hate more than crumbly muffins? Eating crumbly muffins in public. It's so embarrassing. If you don't eat the muffin you look stupid. Who buys muffins and doesn't eat them? Plus it's a good muffin...except it's crumbly. What's wrong with crumbly muffins? You look like an idiot while you eat them.

Crumbs are flying and...uh-oh...you just missed your mouth AGAIN. Now there's a nice puddle of crumbly muffin on your lap. You try to dust it off, but instead those rebellious little buggers stick to your pants. Crumbly muffins have no manners and that's why I hate them.

ACK. Now it's on Boo Radley's keyboard. UGH.

You know what I hate more than eating crumbly muffins in public? Not updating my blog in 2 weeks. Speaking of what I hate...

There are a lot of articles out there covering how to deal with Facebook stalkers, but no one ever tells you what to do when FACEBOOK is stalking you. Not someone on Facebook, the actual social networking site is stalking you. You may say this is outrageous, but happens far more often than you would think.

Here's how to cope:

1. Burn your laptop.

It won't keep Facebook away, but it sure is fun.











2. Eat Crumbly Muffins in Public

No one, not even Facebook, wants to be seen with an idiot whose food always seems to miss their mouth.

3. Stop Changing Your Relationship Status every Two Days

You're making Facebook jealous. Making it jealous only makes it want you more.

4. Flex your Calve Muscles (on Fridays)

Because that's how the celebrities solve their problems.

5. Adopt Twin Capybaras

I don't know why. You just should.

6. Stop telling Facebook all Your Deep, Dark SECRETS

If you lead Facebook on, it will think it's behavior is okay. Besides, the rest of the world sees those deep, dark secrets too and we don't want to know that you STILL wet the bed...at 22.

7. Have a Stern Talk

This is a last resort. Only when things become truly terrible, do you talk to Facebook. If Facebook won't listen, then you should try eating a crumbly muffin WHILE giving it a stern talk.

Ultimately, there is no way to escape Facebook's claws of destruction. Yes, you may despair.

5 Ways To Make Your Dentist Suffer

Tell me that's not evil.

We all hate dentists. If you say you don't, you would be lying. Whether you hate dentists because one of them "accidentally" drilled a hole through your tongue  or you hate how, despite being a dentist, your dentist has NO TEETH, we all want them to suffer.

(If you are a dentist and you're reading this. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!)

Below are the most innovative ways to make your local dentist feel you wrath:

Method 1: Onion Rings

Onion rings is code for any rancid smelling food. This includes, but is not limited to:

Spoiled milk (the clumpy kind is the BEST)

Mildewed cheese (The best way to go green)

Garlic smoothie (also keeps 'dem vampires away)

Dog food

Garbage

Sewer water

Grass

If you want to be REALLY efficient, I suggest you put all of my suggestions (and anything else you can think of) into a pot and make Stinky Stuff Soup.

Method 2: Scream

Every time your dentist gets near you, looks at you, smiles, sniffs you, scream at the top of your lungs. If he asks why, say: "For a moment...heh....I thought you were going to smash me up and make me into your 'special toothpaste' ", then scream again.

Method 3: Forget the Brush

For the entire month before your appointment, don't brush your teeth, don't look at your tooth-brush, don't even think about your toothbrush.

This won't hurt one bit...NOT! *evil laughter*

Method 4: Curious

Before you sit down, ask your dentist what each tool does that he's going to use, then ask him what would happen if you threw a drill at him. He'll probably respond with something stupid that he thinks is cute like: "Then it will hit me. haha". Throw the drill at him.

Method 5:  Snakey

This method only works if your dentist is a semi aquatic, egg laying mammal


of...dentistry  AKA a platypus. Put a rubber snake in your pocket, right when your dentist AKA platypus picks up the drill throw the rubber snake at him! He'll be so scared he'll drop the drill on his feet...It will hurt.

Think: if we all banded together we could make dentists suffer EVERYWHERE! But it starts with you...

Three Words I Never Thought I'd Say

There are three words I was sure I would never say, but the beginning of the school year somehow coaxed these words from lips:

I. Need. Coffee.



Of course, in my mind I'm thinking:"Coffee is never the answer! You're already short enough as it is!"

I'm not sure where the words came from. I went to bed at a decent time the night before. I got a full 9 hours of sleep; more than enough for me.  And yet, I almost fell asleep on a lecture.


Anyway...

So last week was the first week of school, hence the lack of posting.   If I said that school is sucking my soul dry, I'd be lying.School is rad! It's more amazing than anything I could have possibly dreamt of. (And yes, I've been dreaming about school since February.) I love my professors and my peers and the nonexistent smells.

Billy is halfway functioning. It's really weird how I don't miss him at ALL.  It doesn't bother me that he's water damaged and will never be the same again. And I'm glad it doesn't bother me. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm too attached to my electronics...(Do not bring up the fact that I name them. I name everything! Remember Jimbob? Don't look at me like that!)

If you're wondering whether this post had any sort of point, it didn't. It was mediocre word vomit. I know you're accustomed to my almost-genius word vomit, but I hope you enjoyed this. I also hope you're not disappointed that I didn't post something awesome about how to go back to school in style...Instead, you got this luke-warm update about my boring life.

Don't worry, next post is about what NOT to do when you can't focus in class.  It'll be inexplicably rad. Pinky-promise.