Tuesday, July 30, 2013

I pretty much have the cure for obesity

Hello, world. 

It's that time of year again. Seals are getting mauled, people's arms are getting bitten off, and sharks are flying through the air. That's right, shark week is coming. And I'm super freaking excited, because I live for shark week. But it's not only the fact that I get to watch an entire weeks worth of shows devoted to one of nature's most perfect animals, it marks the beginning of the end of summer. It's kind of nature's way of saying, "Alright guys, wrap up the barbecues and pool parties, real life starts back up again pretty soon." And you know what? I'm pretty okay with that. Because honestly, I would take cooler weather, snow, flannels, and pumpkins over swamp ass and hair frizz any day. I make summer sound so attractive.

However, the end of summer is almost here, and unfortunately, it makes me realise that I really haven't done much towards the whole, "I'm gonna get fit and eat healthy" kick that I was so hoping to be on by now. I have discovered that in hot weather, I want to do nothing. Just nothing. So this afternoon, on the way home, I decided that I needed some sort of motivation to go exercise, and like any girl would, I decided that if I went and got some exercise shorts and a sports bra, I might be a little more apt to get my ass outside and do it. It was a sign, as I went inside of Walmart and saw exercise clothes practically staring me in the face. I also got stickers, because I can't think of anything to motivate me better than stickers. Except ice cream, but that's a no-no. 

But I also came up with a better idea. As with all undesirable things in life, I just need to word it differently. Instead of going out for a run, I'm gonna go prowl the neighbourhood in my running shoes. See? Prowling. It puts it in a whole new light for me. 

Mom: Hey, where were you?
Me: Just out prowling the neighbourhood. 

Instead of "cutting back," I'm boycotting the ice cream industry for trying to give me a heart attack.

Maybe we've been going about it all wrong. Maybe the cure for obesity is something as simple as optimism. And using euphemisms. 

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

How not exercising will save the world from Japan.

With the summer in full swing and almost nothing to do (aside from when I'm doing everything, of course), I like to take some time and contemplate my way of life a little. This normally takes about two minutes and involves this kind of thought process:

"I wish I had a car."
"I wish I had money."
"I'm hungry."


However, also with summer in full swing, means all of the white trash comes out to buy all of the junk food that's on sale at the grocery store. If you've ever seen a lady who's popped out six illegitimate children and apparently doesn't know what size shirt she wears, it isn't pretty. In fact, it's enough to make you think about pulling out the Wii Fit when you get home, which brings me to today's discussion:

My Wii Fit is a Condescending Piece of Shit

So I've done the right thing; I've decided to exercise. These random moments come to me periodically after I  end up eating my weight in chinese food, or after I've been lucky enough to remember that assignment in Life Skills class, where you had to write your family history on a cutout of a tree. Yeah, mine was basically a weeping willow. 

So I pulled my Wii Fit out, dusted it off, put fresh batteries in it, and turned it on when all of a sudden, the console greets me.

"Oh hello!... I seem to have forgotten your name.
It's been 762 days since your last workout!"

Not like we're counting or anything, right?
Then it tries to give you some "friendly fitness advice."

"Try laying off the afternoon snacks!"


So anyway, once you've taken that emotional abuse, you go ahead and bite the bullet and weigh yourself. Now, I'm blessed with the ability to look 30 lbs lighter than I actually am, so of course, this damn thing tells me I'm morbidly obese and to top things off, plays fat music. That's right. Fat music. Like, tubas and shit. As if I didn't feel bad enough about myself. Thanks Wii Fit.

People always imagine the apocalypse to be fairly sudden. One meteor crashing into the Earth. One disease that wipes out humanity. Zombies. Jesus. Whatever you believe, it's wrong. The Wii is going to find it's way into your home, earning your trust, and finally, when the moment is right, killing your self esteem until you are a slave to the console. Actually, Japan is probably just laughing at us as we speak. 

Thursday, May 30, 2013

This one is about giraffes

I haven't written in here in forever, as school really takes a toll on my creativity. However, I've had moments where I think of something witty that might work as a facebook status, but instead I wrote them down in my phone to be used as potential ideas for this blog.

1) How people get a giraffe from zoo to zoo.

I vaguely remember this one. I was sitting in Panera with one of my friends, and he was talking about how a giraffe got moved from one zoo to another, and we're both sitting there wondering how in the hell they transport something like a giraffe. I mean, there are those horse cart things that can go on the back of a truck, but I think it would really be quite awkward to see a giraffe's long ass neck sticking out of the top while driving down a highway. Actually, that sounds like something you could get a ticket for.

Officer: Hello, do you know why I've stopped you today?
Driver: Why, officer. I'm so sorry, I must not have been looking at my odometer; I'll try to be more careful next time.
Officer: Wrong. I couldn't help but notice you are transporting a giraffe. That's quite a distraction to other drivers.

That would make quite a story for your friends.

There was a Magic School Bus computer game that I used to play when I was little that involved finding the animals that were in the wrong habitat and transporting them back to the right one, and one of the animals that was in the wrong habitat was always a giraffe. And you know where I always found him? In the fucking arctic. Or at the bottom of the ocean. Seriously, people? You realise that even in a perfect world, I can't travel the world in a matter of seconds, and that giraffe would have definitely been dead by the time I got there to rescue it. Really poor planning on that zoo's part. I'm surprised there hasn't been a lawsuit by now. Anyway, they used a helicopter to transport them, with a cage hanging down which was where the animal went, but I still don't really find that to be an effective way to transport a zoo animal.

Now, here's the idea I propose, which probably already exists, we just don't know it: an underground railroad for zoo animals. Think about it, just stick a little staircase with an elevator in each exhibit that connects to a network of tunnels that each animal can use to go to other zoos. I'm not going to think this one through, because I'm sure there are other people who would actually like to, so I'll end this one for now.

To be continued.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Reflections on vanilla crack. And by "crack," I mean Tazo tea.

With of all of the middle upper class snobs in the world, why is it that when I go to Starbucks, I get stuck sitting next to the hippies that smell like feet?

I'll tell you why, it's because upper middle class people have no time to sit around in a Starbucks all day. They take their shit to go and drive off in their oversize SUVs to their decent paying jobs.

So why am I here? Why don't I just go to Dunkin Donuts? I'll tell you.

1) Tazo tea is my crack. And since I can't drink coffee (sadly), a Tazo tea latte is enough to fool me into thinking that I'm drinking some fancy overpriced flavoured coffee.

2) I have an image to uphold. The whole "I'm a broke college student but I own an iPad" image. It's harder than it sounds, trust me. So Starbucks is my way of fooling the world that I am too cool to eat dinner and that I would rather just live off of my fake overpriced coffee, because I'm young and I can get away with it.

3) This is the most important thing. Starbucks allows me to have an alter ego. This all started when my friend and I went to Starbucks one snowy day. You know how they ask you for a name to write on the cup, right? Well she was all like, "I'm gonna give them a fake name." And so she did. But she didn't give them just any name, right? She told them her name was "Roxanne." It's one thing to just be like, "hey my name is derp," but to give them a name with a completely different personality is so empowering and something you can do at Starbucks that you just can't get away with anywhere else. I mean, "Roxanne" just says, "I'm a free spirit girl with crazy hair and a flair for show business but I'm also a complicated soul deep down on the inside." That is just awesome.

So of course, next time I went to Starbucks, I was like, "I'm gonna try out a fake name." But I didn't want any conventional name, and I was pretty much joking with the guy because I was so offended he didn't ask me for a damn name, so I told him my name was Thaddeus, but in a girl way. So he gave it a female spelling and thus my Starbucks alter ego "Thaddieusse" was born.

I really wish I could drink coffee.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Because Wednesdays kind of really suck.

Bonjour world.

Wednesdays suck. I've figured this out because it's right smack dab in the middle of the week. It's obviously not Friday yet, but it's not even Monday, so it's not like you can just sit in your sweatpants all day long and watch netflix and use the excuse, "because it's Wednesday." Unfortunately, it doesn't work. I know because I've tried.

Wednesdays suck because it's typically the busiest day of the week. For everyone. So if you're ever in the position of "oh shit, got nothing to do," you can't even ask your friends to hang out because they're all busy. And for my friends reading this, it's not meant to be a slap in the face. I know that asking a friend to hang out on a Wednesday (especially one that's two weeks before finals) is like asking a mother of newborn twins to go out to the bar with me. Just not happening. It's just one of those unfortunate things about life.

So how did I deal with this Wednesday? Well, it was my inner hipster, actually, that decided to emerge today and was all like, "Hey, Emily, you should go to Barnes and Noble and just look at books." So you know what? That's what I did. On the way I decided to stop at Starbucks, because an outing where you are indulging your inner hipster isn't complete without overpriced coffee.

I feel the need to mention the value of self image. Because the whole time I was out, I felt like this:

but I looked more like this:

(you know, that "oh shit, finals are coming" glow)

I've deduced that in this phase of my early life crisis, I need to get some cool fake hipstery glasses.

Anyways, back to Starbucks. When I went inside, and took my place in the line that was literally to
the front door (as in, my butt was basically touching the door), I noticed a familiar face in front of me. It was the astronomy professor. I've never had a class with this guy, but I have such a fondness for him, and I'll be honest when I say that it all stems from the fact that he wears suspenders and looks like Santa Claus. It's awesome. So I'm sitting here, really wanting to talk to him, because I just feel like professors would just have such interesting things to say outside of a lecture hall, and while waiting for our drinks, I eventually tackled the social anxiety long enough to spark up a conversation. It subsequently died within sixty seconds of beginning, (probably because I thought I heard him say "I rule the planetarium" instead of "I run the planetarium" and I started laughing) but hey, whatever. I get points for trying. When I have a green tea frappe in my hand and a hipster mentality, I don't give a shit what anyone thinks of me.

Do you ever have that feeling when you walk into a place and you feel as though the only thing that would make the place better are like, flying unicorns? That's how I feel whenever I walk into a Barnes and Noble. If all of my dreams were to come true, they would do so in a Barnes and Noble. I don't think people understand is that there were so many great men and women who poured their hearts and souls into their books, and when you walk into a bookstore, you're walking into a room full of souls. It's like an art museum, only you can admire the art, pick it up, admire it some more, admire it in a big comfy chair, and then buy it and take it home with you to admire whenever you please.

Outcome of my hipster adventure: I left with Kurt Vonnegut's "Cat's Cradle" and Jack Kerouac's "On the Road," with a green tea frappe in my belly. Life is good.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Why doesn't the United States have more nude beaches?

Hi. So I haven't been on here a whole lot, obviously, but you know, school sucks and I'm busy and all my spare time is spent procrastinating.

Also, remember back to, "this blog is like a kick ass Christmas present that I just want to play with everyday?" Yeah, Christmas was four months ago, so it's safe to say that the thrill has kind of gone away. But it's a good present, so I certainly won't forget about it. Actually, to be honest, I wish I could write more often, but lately it's just been "ALGHIAOIENVOAEINRE SCHOOL," so there's not much creative energy flowing.

Anyway, I've been presented with two questions this week that seem good enough to talk about.

The first one was asked in my french class, so of course, it was in french, and the point of the question was to practice my knowledge of verbs in the conditional form, but whatever. The question was:

If you could be another person (any person in the world) for a whole day, who would you be?

Obviously, my answer was Ms. Frizzle, based on my recent fascination with a woman who owns a magic bus, but this later prompted some greater introspection. 

Who would I be if given this opportunity?

Part of me wants to say that I would be a pirate, but I don't think it's as fun as it looks when Johnny Depp does it. Scurvy doesn't sound like much of a thrill.
Another part of me wants to say something like, "Oh, I'd be Abraham Lincoln," but then I remember that he's dead. What do you think the odds would be of me being Abraham Lincoln on the day that he dies? 

Then there's the part of me that's all like, "Hell nah, I'd be myself." Because in reality, I'm the only one fully equipped to be myself. What happens to my body if I'm hanging around in someone else's? Am I just sleeping for a day? Do I just disappear? What? 

This brings me to the problems that I have with those movies/tv shows where two people switch places. Call me strange, but my first thought is always, "how do they go to the bathroom?" If I had switched places with an old man, for instance, I would be traumatised. Nor would I ever look at that old man the same way again. They probably don't have this problem in Brazil, with all those nude beaches and whatnot. 

I don't even remember the other question that was on my mind. 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Viva le Bacon!

Spring is finally here. And by "finally here," I mean, "it took you long enough, mother nature." It's no wonder we refer to nature as a woman. As beautiful as she is, she's definitely hormonal. Like, PMDD hormonal. Let's get Mother Nature some psychological help. We could bury some Midol in the ground or something, except I think that may piss off the EPA, so let's not. Anyway, speaking of Spring, which is great and all, allergies have hit me like a brick wall. Actually, I just sneezed after I wrote that sentence, so maybe I'm allergic to similes.

Allergies are just the worst thing ever. I mean, probably not as bad as cancer or anything, so if you have cancer, I'm sorry, but in my little "I'm young so everything revolves around me" world, allergies are the worst thing ever. It's not just the staying up late at night sneezing, or the fact that my eyes are so itchy that I am one step away from growing Wolverine nails and just blinding myself here and now, or the fact that I'm shuffling my feet everywhere and seeing the world through my little fog (Claritin really hit the nail on the head with that one), or even that I wake up in the morning with my throat being three times larger than it usually is and can't enjoy any type of food or drink. The biggest problem I have with allergies is that everything that usually annoys me annoys me three times more. I'll tell you what annoys me today. Vegans.

Now, before I begin, and manage to piss someone off the wrong way (not like I really care either way), there are two types of vegans.

1) There's the "hey guys, I'm just gonna sit here and be vegan because I want to and it doesn't bother me if you decide to eat meat because it's your right as a human being to make your own damn decisions" vegan. Also known as a milder form of Anorexia, but the people are nice, so I don't really mind. These are the kind of people who make it easy for us all to coexist peacefully. It's just kind of like, I'll sit over here with my massive BLT, and you can eat your tofu patty and soy nuts, and we can still be friends at the end of the day.

2) Then there's the "I'm vegan because I'm, evolutionarily speaking, one step above everyone and I have all the money in the damn world to spend on all of my fake, processed shit, and all the time in the world to sit around in my homegrown organic farm, and I won't stop until every damn person on the planet is also vegan" vegan. These are the people who believe that we are no better than animals, but that for some reason, humans are the only species that should willingly starve themselves for the greater good. Why is it okay for a lion to eat a steak, but not me? If we're on an even playing field with the animals, then as long as I catch it, I can eat it. According to these vegans, we should all ignore the fact that there are starving populations in other parts of the world, completely neglect a source of food, and live off of processed soy products.

So, as with everything in life, it's not your opinion that matters, it's how far up my butt you are about it that bothers me.

I was on campus the other day, just walking around, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, I'm almost run over by this girl with a piece of paper that she was asking me to sign. The paper was a petition to get more vegan options in our dining halls on campus. That would be all well and good, except that it's so damn expensive, and I'm not paying more in fees so that you can have a grand buffet of bird food. If you willingly decide to exclude like, 90% of food from your diet, you can't really complain when a campus dining hall doesn't have your favourite veggie tofu quinoa. Make that shit yourself and get out of my face.

Viva le bacon.

And Claritin. 

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

It is my firm belief that backpacks should never have wheels.

I have a couple of things to say. Also, at this point in time, sitting here in the geography lab writing this, I am having a crazy amount of deja vu.

1. I think that deja vu is a cool concept. Except I don't think that I've been here in a past life, I just feel like I dreamed about doing this exact thing. Which I probably have. Which is weird.

2. Anyway, lately, I've been thinking about the whole, "what the hell am I going to do with my future thing," and I've been seriously thinking about maybe getting a second degree after I graduate. Something in science. I'll tell you why. I am a scientific person. When I was six, and other kids my age were still sucking on their thumbs and wetting the bed (okay, I did once, I'll admit, but I never needed those weird child diapers), I was reading books on the solar system and watching Magic School Bus and Bill Nye the Science Guy. And also Rugrats and Spongebob, because let's face it, without them, I would have turned out to be the weirdest person on the planet. Like "I'm in college and I still use backpacks with wheels" weird.

So I've decided that my life aspiration is to be Ms. Frizzle when I grow up. I've set up a timeline to achieve this goal.

1. Get a degree in science. Like, every science imaginable. Sleep with headphones in playing Bill Nye episodes, that cool show Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman, and anything Neil deGrasse Tyson has ever said in an effort to infuse my head with knowledge of all that is scientific.

2. Graduate, acquire plenty of random dresses with matching shoes that have things on them like food, space, the rainforest. There has to be a store somewhere in the world that sells science themed attire.

3. Acquire a magic bus, capable of displaying emotions and turning into anything I desire. *

*I just now, after years of living on this planet, appreciate the irony that this show seems to think magic is the only way to explain science to children. Am I complaining? No.

4. Go on a joyride through an inner city neighbourhood, picking up a number of children representing a diverse array of ethnicities and other minority groups. Preferably orphans/foster children, since I'm going to be taking these kids out into space, and into lightbulbs, and human bodies, and electrical sockets.

5. Get a pet lizard. I forgot that part.

There we go. I'm all set for life. Sounds much more fun than being a doctor.
Face it. She looks like she's having way more fun than the rest of us.

3. Backpacks should never have wheels. Actually, when I get down about myself, I always come to this conclusion:
At least I do not use a backpack with wheels.
 People who use rolly backpacks seem to have a personality of their own. A kind of personality that says "I let my fingernails grow really long," and "I always run whenever I have to go anywhere," and "I talk to myself when I am running to class." It can describe a person who was in those weird child diapers until they were 12. Someone who always seems to have peanut butter on their face. Have you ever looked at a person and thought to yourself that they probably have plastic wrap on their couch at home? I'll bet you that their backpacks probably have wheels.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Twenty years old, and I'm searching for life's answers inside fortune cookies...

I know it's late, and I meant to write this last week, but hey, better late than never. In light of the Easter holiday, I decided to write about something "Easter-y," and by "Easter-y," I mean something kind of weird that happened to me that my friend told me to write about.

First, I should mention that I'm going to be a Godmother. My cousin asked me to be Godmother of his daughter who's going to be born in May. Now, if you know me, you're probably very confused and scratching your head right now... I mean, come on. I own a shirt that has Jesus riding a dinosaur on it. Who is really going to put me in charge of the spiritual upbringing of their child?

My cousin. That's who. And I'm excited about it, so haters gonna hate.

I had this long story planned out, but being that it is the internet, and I don't feel like writing in detail, you all get the spark notes version. On one Sunday morning, I woke up feeling pretty miserable. I was exhausted, and feeling kind of unloved. And then I saw the stuffed piggy that I have on my desk for said Goddaughter. And then I was like, hey, if God exists, I should just ask him to give me some sort of sign or something. Like millions of other people haven't done that before... I mean, if he exists, it's probably the second most sought after prayer after the whole, "help me win the lottery/get skinny/find love" shit. Which brings me to a tangent.

If God exists, you really think he's up there waiting to grant your every wish like a genie? No. Tangent over, because I really don't feel like discussing the topic of religion when I'm up to my eyeballs in homework and I'm run down and grumpy and exhausted.

So anyway, back to the story. I'm laying there, on my bed, contemplating the meaning of life and whatnot, my purpose in people's lives, whether or not there really is a God (I should mention too that it was a Sunday morning. This is what I do instead of church, and I like it just fine), then I'm like "Hey, God, if you're up there, why don't you make yourself useful and give me a sign or something?" Then, once I'm all done, I go eat some eggs. Such is my life.

Later that evening, a great turn of events allowed me to stay at home another night, and to celebrate, I was like, "hey, significant other, let's go get some chinese food." So we did. And it was great. Then came the fortune cookies. One said something about how talented I am in the arts and music, and I was thankful that I had this cookie to remind me. I only get this fortune cookie every time I eat chinese food. But anyway, the second one said, "God will give you everything you want." And I was like, holy shit. That's a damn crazy coincidence if I ever saw one. It totally could just be a coincidence too. I mean, the chinese restaurant has pictures with George Bush all over the place, maybe they commission a Christian company to write their fortune cookies. Or maybe some douche over at the factory is totally trying to fuck around with me. Or maybe, just maybe, the creator of the universe is reaching out to me through chinese food.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Since everyone else is talking about it...

As a student of Towson University, I am acclimated to certain things: annoying daily announcements delivered via email, tomato mozzarella panini's from P-Tux, long lines for omelettes or pasta, and, of course, seeing my university in the news on a routine basis.

Now, a lot of universities get recognition for a ton of great things- outstanding faculty, sustainability projects, their sports teams, etc. and I feel as though Towson has a lot of these things. I've had some really great professors. The campus is green enough for me. Our football team doesn't suck. I mean, we have a good amount of things going for us. When people ask me where I go to school, and I tell them, "Towson University," and then they ask me how I like it, I don't sugarcoat things. I tell them that it's okay. It's basically a commuter school, and I'm really not a fan of campus life, but as far as value goes, I'm definitely pleased. It's not Harvard; it's an in-state public school, and as far as in-state public schools go, I'd say Towson is doing pretty well. For the most part, anyway. But we won't get into that.

People may also say, "Oh, Towson? I've seen you all in the news lately." To which I roll my eyes. Because we're not in the news for anything wonderful. We're in the news because of something dumb. We're in the news because of a "White Student Union."

Now, before you get on my case about freedom of speech and all that shit, I will give you a basic rundown about how I feel about this group.

I realise that there are many student unions here on campus, and I'm fine with any group that just wants to get together and celebrate their culture. That's fine. That's not hurting anyone. I don't care "what culture you're celebrating" and I don't care what you're doing to celebrate it. Like I said, as long as nobody is being hurt, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. If you really feel insecure enough about being a white person that you need to form a group and "celebrate European history and culture" together, be my guest.

Which brings me to another point. Exactly what European history and culture are you celebrating? I emailed them with this question and they still haven't answered back. Apparently going to a conservative action conference and advocating racial segregation is considered "celebrating European culture?" I don't get it.

Next, I really don't feel the need to be escorted around by these people at night. Campus is relatively safe, and as long as you're not walking around at like, 10 pm, you're fine. If you need to get somewhere at 10 pm, there is a shuttle. Honestly, I just don't understand this group. Let's go and chalk a bunch of racist shit all over campus and then offer to escort people around at night! It just doesn't make sense to me. Not to mention, of course, every evening when I go to practice, I almost always see a Towson police officer at some point during the walk. So, I mean, they're doing their job. I really don't need a bunch of white supremacists escorting me around at night. I don't care how much "firearms training" and pepper spray you have. This leads me to yet another point.

How the hell are you going to write on your blog (which, of course, is on the internet for everybody to see) that you went to firearms training in order to establish night patrols on a college campus and not expect the entire campus to be pissed off with you? This is the number one thing that I don't understand. They have a blog with an about section that states a very vague mission: to celebrate European culture and history. Well, I would like to remind them that European history and culture is very broad. So what exactly are they celebrating? How are night patrols helping their mission? I don't understand. On said blog, they basically celebrate the fact that they have been labeled a hate group, and just continue to let people know how proud they are to be so extreme, and then the president of the club goes on the news and talks to the school newspaper about how victimised they are, and how many death threats they've received, and how everyone who is opposed to his stupid club is just intolerant and doesn't have their facts right. The president also goes on to say how if the Black Student Union decided to do night patrols, they would get away with it. Uh, news flash, they haven't been dumb enough to bring up the idea. You're not helping anyone on campus, you're just looking to get another five minutes in the news. Really, get over yourself.

To my next point. I think this White Student Union is less of an actual organisation with an actual mission, and more of a way for an insecure student to get his name in the news. Seriously, if you go to the blog, he refers to himself as "Commander." Really? You're a college undergrad, not a dictator. And also, if this really was just an innocent little club with no intention of doing any harm, then "president" would do just fine. Commander? Really? Give me a fucking break. It's bad enough you want to follow me around at night with your knowledge of firearms, but I definitely would not like to have to call you Commander every time I tell you to get out of my face.

Now, I would typically end with something about how much this group sucks, but it's giving them the attention they want. In fact, this whole blog post has given them all the attention they want. I'm not going to give them a death threat, because it's what they want. They want to be painted as martyrs. They want people to see them as victims in a cruel world of "liberal media and multiculturalism." I refuse to stoop to their level, though. I refuse to give them as much hate as they have given everybody else on campus, because it doesn't make me any better of a person. Honestly, I'm just going to hope this kid gets laid sometime soon, so that he can find something better to do with his time then run a hate group.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013


I've done it. I've reached the "f*** it" point of the school year.

This, I have found in the past few hours, is a pretty common occurrence on a college campus. So basically, it all started when I came back from spring break and I was immediately depressed by all of the work I have to do. It's kind of like waking up on a day where there was supposed to be snow, but there isn't, and now you've stayed up all night and had fun only to have to go to school the next day and bullshit all the homework you didn't do. It's kind of like that. Because, after all, spring break is like the Christmas of the semester. But it's different in that you blink and then it's over. That's literally what happened to me this break. I blinked. Then I came back. No fun.

So anyway, I came back, and ever since, I've been in montage mode. Like, the mode where you're like, "yeah, gonna get shit done!" and you just listen to really inspirational music, like the "Be a Man" song from Mulan, and "Eye of the Tiger." You imagine yourself running up stairs made of homework and tests and getting to the top and just punching the whole thing to hell. Yup, that's me. Except that for every five minutes I spend doing homework, I spend another ten minutes just sitting at my desk being frustrated about all of the homework I have to do. Like now.

Earlier, since I did a whole four problems of my homework, I decided to go out and practice and get food, since all I could think about was how hungry I was. Apparently everyone else and their mother decided that getting food at 9:30 pm in sweats on a Tuesday night was a great idea. Which was great, because there was no way I was gonna feel embarrassed at this one, but at the same time, I'm left wondering what Towson has put in the water...

Monday, March 25, 2013

I don't really feel like writing, but I guess I'll do it anyway

If somebody told me that on March 25th, I would wake up to this, I would have totally called you a liar. 

I have no clue what to write about today, so I'm just going to use this picture as inspiration.

This is snow.

It's also Spring.

I have honestly never experienced this.

Okay, enough of that.

So I went ahead and looked up the name of this storm, since it actually hasn't been made a huge deal (which is surprising, given the fact that it's almost April...). The name of this storm is Virgil, which I guess makes sense. According to Wikipedia, Virgil is ranked as one of Rome's greatest poets. Poets are really complicated individuals, so I guess the name for this one makes a lot of sense. Only a deep, complicated storm would decide to hit at the end of March.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I did it for the learning experience

Today I learned a very important lesson: whatever city you find yourself in, make sure to avoid route 40.

I learned this lesson today as I was riding along to my moms doctor's appointment in Baltimore... You can guess how well that went.

The appointment was in White Marsh, which is where I'm safely sitting now reflecting on this whole ordeal.

Things I've learned:
1) If your mom tells you her appointment is in White Marsh, and then hands you a paper with a Baltimore address on it, double and triple check it and basically just keep asking about it until she comes to the realisation that it's the wrong freaking address.

2) If you get to the Baltimore beltway, and you know that you're going to White Marsh, the answer is always 695 N. And if your GPS tells you to take 695 S instead, it's probably a good indication that it is taking you to that wrong address that you typed in.

3) GPS units have no soul. They have no concern for your well being and are only concerned with getting you where you need to go in the quickest way possible, even if it means taking you through the ghetto. They really do not have an "avoid ghetto" option.

4) If a GPS unit tells you to go on Rt. 40 to go through a city, it's wrong. Every city has a ghetto, and every ghetto seems to have a Rt. 40 going right through it.

5) If your mom is driving through the ghetto of Baltimore, there's really no "looking on the bright side." If you're trying to "laugh it off," you're only going to worry her and she's never going to let you leave the house again. She probably doesn't want to hear about "what a fun adventure this is."

6) If you're driving past bars that are open at 10 o clock in the f***ing morning, it's a good indication that you've reached the ghetto. It's best to turn around at this point and find some other route to take before you're to the point where you're actually considering religion.

Ultimately, now that I'm safe and I've survived, I can look back and say that it was quite an experience. I'll definitely never get that kind of mother-daughter bonding time again. But that probably has to do with the fact that she's never taking me on a road trip again... XD

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Here it is, the Walking Dead post

So, as everybody/nobody may have noticed, I haven't really been blogging too much as of late. There are two reasons for this.

1) Midterms. And by midterms, I mean one.
2) Walking Dead.

It's mostly the second one.

It all began as I was perusing my Netflix homepage, and I was all like, "Hm, there's a lot about Walking Dead on facebook, maybe it's worth watching." Of course, if you've ever seen the show, you know that you're hooked from the moment you add it into your instant queue, so I think you can guess what happened. I watched the first episode of season 1 on Monday morning, and watched the last episode of season 2 the next Sunday. And now I'm sad that I have to wait for season 3 to be put on Netflix, but am also happy about the temporary sense of liberation I have until then.

Now, I feel about this show, the way that a mother would feel about her teenager. You sit on the sidelines, screaming in frustration about all the stupid shit that he/she is doing, but there's not a thing you can do about it, and at the end of the day, you're just waiting in anticipation to see what's going to happen next. That's how I feel about this show. A lot of these characters just do the stupidest shit unimaginable and sometimes, I almost can't handle it.

First of all, if you were in a coma, you woke up, nobody is around, and you see half of a zombie coming at you, I don't care how many horror movies you were deprived of as a kid, it's pretty apparent that there is a mother flipping zombie apocalypse. At this point, I would have grabbed the bike and pedaled as hard as I could have, as Rick did, but I wouldn't just chill out on a porch somewhere waiting for the rest of them to show up. You think if you see a zombie coming at you, and you go in your house to find that your wife and son had left, that there's only one freaking zombie? Yeah, Rick, your wife and kid and everyone else in the town left because that one zombie in the park was really becoming quite an eyesore. You're lucky you're the main character, because anybody else who let their guard down like that would have become walker food.

Next, you know, he decides to drive a car to Atlanta, which I guess I can kind of understand, since the CDC is located there and he was told about a safe haven and everything, but I would have at least taken gas into consideration. The last thing I want to do is be stranded on a deserted road and have to ride a horse into the middle of a zombie ridden city. Which brings me to my next point. Why the hell would you take a f***ing horse into the middle of what was once a very populated city? At least take something that goes fast and isn't spooked at everything and doesn't have to stop to shit. It really isn't rocket science to know that zombie virus (or virus of any kind for that matter) + heavily populated areas does not equal any kind of good. Just ask Asia about SARS. It's a zombie apocalypse, you really can't be too optimistic. If I would have entered Atlanta to see nothing but ruins, I would have turned my ass right around and left. I would have taken that horse straight to Wyoming.

Now, there are just so many things that really frustrate me, I really can't name them all. There's the abandonment of the buddy system for one thing. I mean, come on, 8 year old girl scouts understand that. You obviously cannot let your sister go pee during a zombie apocalypse. Nor would I just leave the door hanging open and my arm just sitting there like walker bait. These people were obviously deprived of zombie movies growing up. Really, the list of stupid stuff just goes on and on and on, which brings me to my next idea:

What I would do in the event of a zombie apocalypse:

Well, first of all, if I saw my best friend safe with my wife and son on some colony, I would obviously assume that my friend is banging my wife. It really doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Next, I would go to somewhere very remotely populated, like the Rocky Mountains. Or maybe the desert. I wonder what a dry heat does to zombies. If anything, I will propose that the world come up with a designated "safe haven" in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Just get a bunch of people together, geographers, engineers, architects, and extreme couponers and build a city complete with everything you would ever need in the event of a zombie apocalypse. That way, nobody is running around the entire country looking for their family, you know that if they are alive, they are en route to the city and you will meet them there. Bam. Genius. Why the hell are we writing petitions about building death stars when we could be writing petitions planning this out? Now, after I am safe, I would find a very secure, stone building, fort type of thing, teach myself to shoot guns, find a dog, and live out the rest of my existence quietly avoiding zombies.

Of course, my life would not have the amount of insane drama that Walking Dead does, which is why if anyone were to document my experiences, it would not be a critically acclaimed TV series. But I'm okay with that.

Friday, March 15, 2013

If I ever find myself homeless, I can always move to Ikea

Whoever said that Disney World is the happiest place on Earth was wrong. It's Ikea.

I was actually given the privilege of being reminded of the wonderfulness of Ikea this evening. What started out as a run to Safeway for some chips turned into an "OMG WE NEED TO GO TO IKEA" moment. I don't know what it was, whether it was the meatballs, the ligonberries (spell check seems to think "ligonberries" should actually be "liberalness") or the thought of all of that cheap comfortable furniture, just waiting to be sit in, but those Swedish flags were calling to me. I felt it. 

It's the best feeling walking into Ikea. It's basically comparable to that feeling when you were little, and you walked into a restaurant with a HUGE playplace and you opened those doors and felt the rays of sunshine and glory just radiating off of that giant, plastic castle. That's Ikea. You open the doors, and you see the Swedish signs everywhere and you're just bouncing with excitement on the inside. This is your playground, only without the dirty ball pit, the tetanus and the AIDS.

Now, you are basking in the awesomeness of Ikea, but is has its downfalls. After you've sat in every single pretend living room there is, and imagined yourself living in a hip, modern downtown Stockholm apartment, you feel a minor sadness. Kind of a sadness over the fact that you will never be Swedish.

But that feeling soon subsides, because my favourite game (and probably the favourite game of everyone I know), besides hide and seek, is called "buy everything I see." I don't know what it is about Ikea, but for some reason, you need everything. You need more forks, knives, and spoons. You need a cool looking pillow. You need a lamp that looks like Medusa. You need a shower curtain. Honestly, you could have all of the potato peelers in the world, but when you pass by the modern, trendier version of the potato peeler, you need it. You could be a college student, living in a dorm, but for some reason you need a children's bed (actually hopefully you don't, for obvious reasons). This is a strange psychology, because I could go to Walmart and not give any of those things a second glance, but for some reason, if the Swedish word for it is on the tag, I want it.

So I know what you're thinking. How much damage was done at Ikea? Well, actually, I'll have you know that I was good. After carrying a cool pillow throughout most of the store, I put it aside for these KICK ASS LIGHTS. Seriously. I may not go out and party, and I don't go to clubs, and I also don't stay up until 2 am studying for tests, but I display my "college student" in other ways. Better ways. Like with how distracted I am by pretty lights. Anyway, all it took was for me to play with the colour adjusting knob for like, five seconds before I decided that I was going home with these lights. Because who doesn't need cool colour changing lights? I am a girl of complex emotions. Sometimes, I just wanna look at a red light. Other times, I need a blue one. Sometimes, I'm gonna need a mix of blue and green. They're just perfect for me, and I can't help but think of all of the wonderful times I'm gonna have with these lights. And by "wonderful times," I mean, if I ever find a place to put them, since I don't spend more than five seconds in any one place...

Anyway, after all is said and done, I have cool lights, but we never did find the chips we were looking for. 

Friday, March 8, 2013

Because I'm sure this wouldn't be encouraged in any other degree program

A while ago, and by "a while ago," I mean, "a week or two ago," I decided to retire the world map that is on my wall. Being a geography student, this was kind of a sad day for me, but on the other hand, it was torn, covered in duct tape and sticky tack, and still wouldn't stay up on my wall. If you've ever been woken up in the middle of the night being swallowed by the world, it's actually quite terrifying.

So, of course, I was left with this huge empty space on my wall that did nothing but bother me day in and day out. Maps > blank, empty wall space. So when I was out on a walk one day, I went ahead and just decided to go to the store and buy another map to put up. My intention was another world map, but I was having a redneck moment and upon seeing the US map of the same size and price as the world map, my inner AMURRICA took over, and I left the store with a map of the good ol' U.S. of A. And a really bad ass poster of a skeleton smoking a cigarette. I regret absolutely nothing.

So at this point, I'm extremely happy to be back in my routine of staring at a map before I go to sleep at night, because it's fun and it relaxes the geography nerd in me. Also, the change of scenery was nice. Instead of staring Patagonia in the face every night, I found myself gazing upon a very different sight: the southern United States. It is here that I came to a fun revelation. Yeah, the south has the highest rate of a bunch of nasty things, like poverty, teen pregnancy, obesity, the works, but they have the most interesting city names.

Besides the fact that there are three Athens (in Alabama, Texas, and Tennessee), a Rome in Georgia, a London in Kentucky, and Paris in Texas (because why go to France, when you can just go to Texas), there are these gems.

Mississippi: Picayune, Yazoo City
Alabama: Eufala, Sylacauga, Opelika, Tuscaloosa, Pascagoula
Georgia: Americus (which I presume is pronounced, "AMURRICUS")
Florida: Kissimmee
Texas: Nacogdoches
Oklahoma: Sapulpa, Tahlequah (which shows how much I've let Baltimore influence me, since I pronounced it as rhyming with "Shaneequa")

Then there's my absolute favourite.
Arkadelphia, Arkansas.

You see, in the north, there are a lot of English/French/German names for cities, like Frederick, and Gettysburg, and Westminster, and Detroit. One can most often tell the origin of these city names too. If one drives through Frederick, they will find some German culture lingering around. However, this makes me wonder, who the hell made up the names for the South? Yazoo City? These are purely American names. I mean, there's Americus. And of course, my favourite, good ol' Arkadelphia.

Sometimes I honestly wonder why I picked a geography major. Sometimes I really wonder why I'm settling for a liberal arts degree when I could be a math or science major and have a decent paying job. Sometimes I wish I had a major that trained me for a specific job. Sometimes I question my willingness to stare at maps the rest of my life. And then there are times when I find myself staring at a wall map in my pajamas, snickering over the names of cities, and those are the times that I have complete confidence that I'm definitely on the right path.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Why storms need to earn their names before they're given

This week I have hit a milestone. A minor one, but one to be remembered nevertheless. This Wednesday was my first snow day away from home.

I remember the excitement building up. Saturn was going to be the storm of the freaking century. Which brings me to ask one question that you all are wondering. Why the hell are we naming winter storms??

Well, I did what I always do, and I turned to google, that told me that it was because after "Superstorm Sandy" came through, they got the idea to start naming winter storms, because they're like, "Well, people take a storm more seriously if it has a name. It also gives each storm its own personality." I have a couple of things to say to meteorologists.

1. A name has absolutely nothing to do with how much people take a storm seriously. These people have obviously never worked at a grocery store. The forecast for the day could say "Partly cloudy with a 30% chance of a dusting of snow" and everyone and their mother is in the store buying milk and bread. This brings me to a minor tangent.

  • Why are people buying perishable food items during a storm? Why is milk the first thing on your mind during a snowstorm? Why is it that when people on are telling you that there is a chance the power will go out, the first thing you think to get is an extremely perishable item? I have never quite understood this logic. Why aren't people buying logical things, like batteries? And bottled water? And room temperature food that comes in wrappers and boxes? Well, apparently because they don't go very well with cereal. 
2. Why the hell does a storm need a personality? It's not a human. It's a storm. "Here is storm (insert bad ass greek/roman name). He likes long walks on the beach, has a winning smile, and a sense of humour that just won't quit." Of course, storms never have personalities like that. They're all vengeful, evil, soulless things just waiting to unleash their wrath wherever and whenever they can. Because they're a storm, and that's what storms do. 

Now, when I heard that this storm was gonna hit, I was excited, because this is Maryland, and getting snow is like when you went to the grocery store when you were little and your mom said you could have candy. It just doesn't happen that often, so when it does happen you're like "YES. THIS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW." So of course, me being the busy college student that I am was like, "Hell yeah, snow in the middle of the week? BRING IT, SATURN." Not to mention, I was also excited that I was being hit by a snowstorm named Saturn. It's pretty much one of my favourite planets. But it's also a pretty bad ass name. Of all things to be struck by, you're being struck and surrounded by a roman god. Pretty cool stuff.

Except it wasn't cool. It was literally an inch of snow and that's it. It didn't even rain. Which brings me to my idea of the story: If you're going to name a storm, do so after it has done something really awesome and bad ass that has earned it its name. Also, if you're going to pull the whole "storms having personality card," then name the storm afterwards. Then you can give it some really awesome name. Like snowmageddeon three years ago. That storm got me out of school for two weeks. That storm has definitely earned a name. But this past snow storm? I'm going to have the image of Saturn forever soiled in my mind. 

Actually, never mind. I saw a picture of Saturn. He looks quite fabulous. The image is actually quite comparable to the total of three snowflakes we received.  

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

The joys of roommates

Things that my roommates feel the need to talk about and do when it's midnight and they see me out in the kitchen doing my homework:

  • Talk about weaves. Other bitches and they weaves, their own personal woes with their weaves. Just can't get that shit to stay flat? That's probably because it's not real hair. Not entirely sure why your bedroom door has to be open for that conversation.
  • Talk about their savings accounts and how fast their money is disappearing. Remember this, as it comes back later.
  • Come out in the kitchen and open the fridge, point to everything and talk about how much it cost. $2.99 for sausage? Glad I don't give a shit. 
  • Proceed to pull out said sausages and begin cooking dinner. At midnight. 
  • Decide that it's entirely too cold for them in the living room that they never spend any time in, and proceed to walk over, and turn the heat up to the highest possible setting. You know, the one that is comparable to the temperature in hell. 
  • Go on a rant about how they will never eat organic food, because they like salt too much. Also because they ain't givin' up mama's pot roast, uh-uh. They will STAY with their blubber. Okay, last time I checked, going organic isn't like going on weight watchers. 
  • Apparently sausages aren't enough, so they need to start making fries and scrambled eggs to go with it. Seriously, at this point, you're about 8 hours early for breakfast.
So after drowning my sorrows in ice cream, I decided that it was finally time to leave when as I was typing the word "task," it came out "taks."

My time spent as a secluded individual

Alright, I caved. I feel kind of bad for it, but it's all Bill Cosby's fault. But I'll talk about that another time.

Basically this whole "no social internet" stuff was really good for me, and in a way, I wish that I could just keep my facebook deactivated, because it was so nice, but unfortunately, facebook is just the way that my generation communicates nowadays. Actually, you know what? I may just deactivate it again. There. I've done it. It feels great. I actually kept a diary of the past few days without the internet.

Actually I just reactivated it again. I'm really having an internet identity crisis here.

Anyway, my times without social networking:

Sunday night: Within the span of about two hours, I cleaned my dorm room, I organised my bookshelf, I took out the trash, I did the dishes, and put all of my clothes away. I also sorted a bunch of stuff and I now have a bag full of stuff that I don't need ready to go home. I know people are reading this and thinking, really? How hard could that have been? You cleaned your room. Congrats, want a cookie? But seriously, you didn't see my room. Actually, I couldn't even see my room, since it was such a mess. All I saw was mess. But seriously, I got more done in two hours than I have in two months and it felt GREAT.

Monday night: I've made it 24 hours without social networking. I'm starting to feel kind of lonely. I catch myself automatically typing "facebo-" in the web address bar before I stop myself. I did, however, get a B+ on a test I was sure I was actually going to fail, so that's good. I also finished all of my homework. And I walked four miles. But I've started to feel the "deserted island" effect. Kind of like when you are at a party full of people and you just get up and leave out of the blue and then you start feeling really lonely even though you're the one who left everyone. I am going through the period now where I'm trying to justify everything by saying something like, "oh, well if I'm not happy without talking to others, then I probably should just reactivate everything and connect with reality again." On the other hand though, I did this for myself in order to catch up on everything that I was leaving unfinished. Cutting myself off for now is a good thing, it's just that my brain is still like a baby and when I can't see people, I just assume they don't exist. It's weird. But whatever. I'll get through it.

Tuesday: I decided that if I'm basically cutting myself off from civilisation, I'd better get some good books to read, so I woke up this morning and bought "The Alchemist" and "The Prophet," because they're both self discovery books with awesome reviews, which I feel would be a good thing for me. Actually, since "The Prophet" is online as well, I went ahead and read a chapter and my life is already better for doing so. After reading that, I was like, okay, since I'm on a roll, I should keep reading awesome things, so then I read "Body Ritual Among the Nacirema," which was also awesome. Then I called to get my taxes done. Then I walked three miles. Then I made four maps. Then I went out and hung out with a friend, came back, finished my homework, and it was awesome. Today I really discovered that there is a lot more to the internet than I originally thought. There's so much awesome reading material out there, so many things to learn, so many videos to watch. The internet is kind of like an iceberg actually. I only see the top 10%, that being facebook, my email, etc., but there is SO MUCH MORE AND IT'S AWESOME. I mean, there's way more to the world too, but we already knew that. I would have done more today, but there's a blizzard coming and I've reached the point (since it's 1 am and I'm not going to sleep anytime soon) that I really hope we don't have class tomorrow....

So yeah, my time without the social internet.

Friday, March 1, 2013

The fact that Snooki is allowed to mate goes against everything I ever believed in

So, I have noticed particularly in the past couple of days, that I have seen a drastic increase in the amount of girls posting pictures of engagement rings and wedding stuff to their pinterest. My first reaction, of course, is why is everyone posting this stuff on a public website that their boyfriends can see? If there's one thing I learned actually, this kind of stuff apparently freaks men out. Not every man, but young men. Like college age men. Like, men that my friends are dating. And it's unfortunate, because I think men should be flattered that women want to spend the rest of their lives with you. I mean, evolutionarily speaking, we only accept the best. We can't just have anyone fertilising our eggs; we want someone with a lot of good qualities. So men should be flattered that we are planning our future together on our internet accounts.

So why do women my age want to be married so badly?

1. Romantic Comedies
2. It's the same as being in a relationship, except with nice jewelry involved
3. We get a day all about us. 

So really, men. Calm your tits. This is the just the basic psychology of women at work here.

I actually really wanted to talk about stupid people today, so I will do that now.

I have gotten a lot of crime alerts recently on campus, mostly peeping toms taking pictures of girls in public restrooms (which is precisely the reason why I will never use a campus bathroom ever again). This is exactly why we can't have nice things. It doesn't matter how nice an invention is, there is always some douchebag out there to ruin it for the rest of us. Man invents something as nice as the camera, sure enough, someone uses it to take pictures of peeing girls. Humans were nice enough to invent the public restrooms for us, and of  course, there are the people who pee all over the seat, take toilet paper and rip it up and throw it all over the stall, people who leave used tampons just hanging out of the trash can, and worst of all, the people who just don't fucking flush. Humans invented the concept of dance, and of course, what do we do? We invent the Harlem Shake.

There is a part of me that just wants Social Darwinism to make itself a little more apparent. But since things like Snooki can have children, I don't see that happening anytime soon.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

This is about as much as I can really force myself to say about fiber.

Hello, world.

I was told to write about Fiber One today. So, for inspiration, I went to the kitchen and got myself a Fiber One chocolate chip cookie brownie. It's amazing how the act of eating one small cookie brownie can spark a creative flow of thinking. Sometimes you really just have to experience what you're about to write about. 

So anyway, one thing I've learned is that Fiber One takes things that are delicious and makes them not delicious anymore. But hey, what the hell was I expecting? A cookie just simply cannot be both delicious and 90 calories. The two are mutually exclusive events and, therefore, cannot occur at the same time. You can't be happy and sad at the same time. Unless of course, you're on your period. But that's beside the point.  As far as food goes, low calorie food is not delicious. 

Which brings up the question, "then why the hell did you just eat it?" 

Uh, because my awesome friend, Laura asked me to write something meaningful on Fiber One, and I wanted to experience it firsthand so that I could write something a little more than, "fiber makes you poop."

So what is the purpose of Fiber One anyway? It's because as Americans, it's much easier for us to eat slightly less unhealthy food that is disguised as delicious healthy food as means of getting nutrients. Fiber One is there so that we don't have to force ourselves to eat actually delicious healthy food, like fruit. Fiber One is there so that instead of having to go through all of the freaking effort to wash tupperware that had cantaloupe in it, we can just throw away a wrapper. The more I write, actually, the more I'm developing kind of a personal vendetta against Fiber One. That and the fact that I just read the wrapper that says "11JAN2013" on it, so I'm totally going to die. That is a terribly pathetic way to go, actually. "Here lies Emily. She died because she was too lazy to go get an apple." Honestly though, after reading through these ingredients, I can't really see anything that hasn't been sitting on my kitchen counter for years, so I think I'll be alright. I mean, does "bleached wheat flour" ever actually go bad? My guess is no. 

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

John f***ing Denver, people

Dear World,

I have reactivated my twitter. Even though I don't understand it in the slightest, it's what all the cool kids are doing these days, and since I like keeping in touch with the world, I may as well do it.

In other news, I walked five miles today. I only had the intention of walking two, then I liked those two miles so much I decided to walk them again. Then at the end of the fourth mile, I decided I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, so that was the fifth mile. The grilled cheese was well worth the extremely sore feet.

Speaking of walking, I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to go about this whole "growing up" business, and was talking to my friend, when all of a sudden I was like, "OMGISHOULDWALKACROSSTHEUSA." Just like that. When I get really excited, space bars know to take a step back from me. Really, my inner Forrest Gump was just clawing its way out of me. So I took a mental note to research that later, and went to bed. The next morning, I became really serious about the idea, and googled it and everything.

On a side note, spell check needs to get its shit together, because "google" has definitely been a verb for a couple of years now. Seriously, I can say "google" with a straight face, that's how mainstream and accepted it has become.

So anyway, back to things. I googled it, and apparently I'm not the first one who has had this idea, and I certainly wouldn't be the first person to undertake and complete it successfully either. Once I read the blogs of many people who have done it, and about the thousands of dollars, and the bears and snakes, and the sleeping alone, and the worrying about creepy people, the thrill kind of wore off, honestly. Actually, it's the bears and snakes and the thousands of dollars that did it more than anything. Maybe that's just not for me right now. But you know what? I should definitely do something adventurous, and I stumbled upon this thing called the "American Discovery Trail," which is basically a network of trails that goes across the USA. I found one that goes across Maryland, and I thought that I should perhaps try that. Or maybe I should bike it instead. Who knows, honestly. If anyone is dying to bike across Maryland with me, you should let me know. If anyone also knows where to get a bike, you should let me know about that too.

So anyway, in other news, I have totally come to a sad realisation. And by sad realisation, I mean I have come to terms with a part of myself. Inside of me, there is totally a redneck that I haven't let out. Honestly, I have no clue if I'm just having an early life crisis or what, but there is a part of me that wants to go sit on a mountain in West Virginia until I figure everything out. I bought a John Denver song and a poster of America yesterday. That's about all I feel like saying about that, I just needed to validate the title of this post.

Finally, I'll end with this. I really kind of wish I had a twin. First, because I can't think of anything the world needs more than someone who looks exactly like me. Lol jk. Twins are lucky. They have their own language and everything. They know each others thoughts. I think that's pretty cool. But enough about that, because this sleepytime tea is really living up to its name and I'm trying to get into the Walking Dead before I konk out.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Jesus is totally going to ruin my next birthday party, I know it

I'm feeling pretty random today. Therefore, I guess random is the route of action for this blog today.

Random thought number one.

Pretty sure one of the most embarrassing things to do is to have a song playing and go to belt something out, and you either sing the wrong thing or you come in at the wrong time at the top of your lungs. Before you ask in yourself in your head, this hasn't happened to me recently. I was just listening to my iPod and I was like "wow, that would be embarrassing if I were to play this song in front of people and sing it and come in at the wrong time." Don't ask me why I think about shit like that, because I have absolutely no clue. Of course, honestly, I always have those thoughts. I could be at a birthday party and be the only one there thinking, "wow, how much would it suck if the rapture happened right now?" I have never gone to a birthday party and thought about that either, but I guess I will now have that thought constantly in my head if I do end up ever going to a birthday party. Actually, that would be the worst day ever for me if the rapture happened during my birthday party. It's YOUR day and all of a sudden half of your friends vanish. Actually, knowing my friends, they would all still be there. Actually, I guess a lot of people would still be here, because I guarantee Jesus is pissed at all of us for not sharing and liking all of those facebook pictures.

Random thought number two.

So, of course, to absolutely NO surprise to anyone reading this blog or even anyone who talks to me in real life (all five of you), I have, of course, been going through this "coming of age" process. I woke up one morning, realised that I am 20 years old, then BAM. All of a sudden, I'm restless, I want my freaking life to get started already, I want to figure out what kind of person I am, and how I'm going to live my life and stuff. Also, since everyone around me is getting married, I really looked into this. I truly wonder why people get married. Now, there is the religious reason, and it's so that you can make a family, and help each other get into heaven sort of deal, but if you're not a particularly religious person, why would you still want to get married? How is getting married different than being in a steady long term relationship? The divorce rate is 50%, so it's not like getting married necessarily keeps you together forever, and sometimes, it really isn't more of a commitment than just being in a serious relationship. 

So I did what I always do, and I googled this. Aside from religious reasons, we feel there is a sense of accomplishment in being married. From the time we're little, we're basically told that one day we will get married and have kids too, and once you do, you basically unlock a life achievement. Also, and I thought this was funny, we have this deep seeded desire to possess things, and if you're legally married, it's kind of like the other person is yours. Even if your husband is sleeping around, he's still yours. I mean, you have papers and everything. 

Random thought number three.

I'm basically done boycotting Chik-fil-A. It's one of those things that everyone really cared about for about a week, but when you think about it, where else are you going to find Chik-fil-A sauce? Nowhere. That's where. It may be bigotry, but it is delicious bigotry, and being a heartless American, I'm okay with that. 

Monday, February 25, 2013

Sorry this one isn't funny.

I haven't written in here for a couple of days, seeing as I decided instead to have a nice, quiet weekend instead. It was nice.

Update: I officially have Junioritis. Yes, that is a term. And it's not just something that I made up my junior year of high school because I wanted to feel special like all of the seniors who had some common disease in common, but because Junioritis actually exists, I promise you. 

I first noticed this phenomenon the spring before my senior year of high school. I had done really well in high school thus far, just kind of chillin' out, being an underclassman, coming into my teenage years, you know, the likes, then BAM. All of a sudden, I find that I don't give a single crap about school anymore. Thinking about it, Junior year is kind of like a Thursday night. You kind of still have homework and stuff to do, and things to worry about, but inside your head, there's a part of you that just doesn't care, because tomorrow is Friday, and it'll all sort itself out. That's kind of like Junior year. Except instead of looking forward to a big, fun weekend, you get to look forward to being serious about whatever comes after your weekend, whatever comes next for you. 

So anyway, I have rediscovered this uncanny feeling, and have diagnosed myself yet again, with Junioritis. Except it's a lot less fun this time, because instead of doing insignificant high school work, I'm doing insignificant college work. The only difference is that there is substantially more insignificant work that you can't get away with not doing in college. The next big difference is that when in high school, you look forward to college. In college, you look forward to real life. It's a bit daunting. Honestly though, I've reached a dangerous point in my academic career. 

It's kind of that point where you realise just how long you've been in school. Seriously. I've been in school from the time I was about five years old. That's a long time to spend in a classroom. The past fifteen years of my life have revolved around school, around books, around tests, around teachers. Ridiculous. Now, I know that college is a wonderful opportunity that not everyone gets. I know that these years are being spent in this institution of higher learning just to obtain a little piece of paper that is seemingly very important in a job market. I am well aware of the sacrifices that I have to make to ensure a better future. That's why I'm still here, duh.

In short, I left this post for a while to go eat dinner, but in the meantime, I have googled "tired of college" and have never felt this in touch with the internet community before. So I know it's a real thing, which I should have known, since there's a really low percentage of students who actually end up with degrees after four years. In the meantime, I guess I'll just do it. I only have 11 weeks left, which feels like an eternity, but I guess it'll get here. 

Friday, February 22, 2013

The product of a lazy Friday morning.

So I'm home, and super happy for being in a land where I can walk around and just hear the dead leaves crunching below my feet and the birds chirping. Seriously, I went for a 2.5 hour walk this morning; 20 minutes of my walk involved just standing on a bridge listening to the creek below me. It was just so quiet. And I loved every minute of the silence. Actually, I would have stayed out there all day if I could, but it's freezing and I like the ability to feel my legs.

Sometimes, you really just need to get out and be by yourself out in the open to feel some sort of inner peace and know that everything is gonna work out for you in the end. I am totally a child of the outdoors. But enough about that, because I promised you all shower recliners.

Yes, that's right. Shower recliners. I came up with this idea on Wednesday, which was literally the busiest day I've ever experienced. I had class from 9 am-3:30 pm (with a 30 minute break for lunch), then had to go out for a walk, then went to a flute lesson, then finally went to go get dinner. And that's when it happened. I sat down. But I didn't just sit down anywhere; I sat down on what was the most comfortable booth I had sat in all day. Then immediately, my brain thought of showers for some weird reason. Probably because my favourite place in the world is the shower. I'm totally serious. I would vacation in my shower if I could. I'm quite a shower connoisseur  as well. There has to be the right amount of shower pressure first and foremost. Then the heat of the water must be right. After that come the little luxuries, like how many shower heads there are (like if you have a shower head and then a little hand hose type thing), and what the shower set up is. I can't stand the square shaped showers. And in addition to that, I prefer the attached bath tub, for reasons I do not understand. Maybe it's because I like the added security it gives my feet. Like, if a gun man were to break into my bathroom, at least he would shoot my feet.

Anyways, back to recliners. Last year, I was in a handicap suite in the dorm housing. I have no clue why, but I was pretty awesome. I was on the first floor, meaning I never had to wait for the stupid elevator. If I ever forgot anything, it literally took me about 30 seconds to walk back in and out again. I had a slightly bigger room, with a door that shut very nicely, and a bigger bathroom too. I wasn't a huge fan of the shower, but it wasn't the worst thing I've ever been in. It was kind of a well almost. Like, the floor slanted down into the shower, so you could put a wheelchair in there I guess. And there was one of those fold down chairs you can sit on. So I was thinking, well those are pretty awesome, because at the end of the day, I guess it would be pretty nice to sit down and take a shower, but how much better would it be if it were a recliner???

I know what you're thinking, wouldn't it get wet? Well, it probably would, since it is a recliner in a shower. You could make it out of waterproof stuff, and there don't have to be cushions inside of it, it could be like a water bed recliner. I would love something big and comfy to sit in while I'm enjoying my favourite place in the world. I'm actually tired of writing and I want a shower.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Historical accuracy and social awkwardness at their finest

To begin on a happy note today, has anyone else ever had those days where your social skills are just turned off? A day where your brain does shit, and you're like "What the freaking hell, brain? Why would you do that?" Like, you just blatantly interrupt people while they're talking without even thinking, and when you walk into your building, see that they're working on the elevator, and proceed to press the freaking button. Like, why, brain? Why? You're supposed to be the product of years of evolutionary experimentation. I thought I had this advanced frontal cortex for a reason. Apparently not.

So ordinarily, as would be the case with anyone with any kind of social anxiety, I would expect myself to declare myself a danger to society for the day, lock myself in  my room, and just read a book for the rest of the day. Literature cannot hurt me, and a book would totally not judge me, which is sad, because we constantly have to be told not to judge the books by their covers, when they do nothing except give us knowledge and unconditional love. However, I've decided that I have too many cool ideas to feel down about the social incompetence of my brain, and have decided that I will share them with the world today.

I'll start with the least fun of the two.

First, I have been thinking about history and stuff lately, for reasons completely unknown to me. Like, I'll see a tree, and think to myself about what that tree looked like 400 years ago. It was probably just surrounded by other trees, because this is Maryland, and I'm pretty sure it was just one big forest before the white man got his hands on it, but whatever. Or also, when I'm just standing around, I can't help but think to myself just how many humans have stood on this exact spot before. Maybe I am standing on the exact space that good old Abe Lincoln stood on at some point. I think of how many people have stood around on the sidewalk waiting to cross York Road.

Sometimes when I go into historical buildings, I think it's cooler, because I know famous dead people have been in there. When I was but a wee lassie (and by "wee lassie," I mean like, 10), my dad took me into the house where Lincoln died. He was going to take me into the theatre where he was shot, but that whole day was just "Take your Child to Work Day" gone completely wrong and involved a lot of vomit and inconvenient bus schedules. So we went into the house across from the theatre, and I stood there and stared at the bed where one of the most influential men in all of history took his last breaths. I stood at the end of the bed that somewhere deep down, probably still had Lincoln's dried blood on it. I imagined his huge legs dangling off of the side of the bed, and people surrounding him, full of unimaginable sorrow and fear. I imagine him with a top hat too, even though I shouldn't, because he was definitely shot in the head, and I'm pretty sure they would have taken it off of him. But anyway, my point is that it's too easy to think that history is just a collection of stories, because we are a group of people who has to see things to believe them. When we go to museums, we know that these artifacts and stuff actually existed, but in our brains somewhere, we feel like it's just some giant set up that people built to go along with their stories. But that's totally not true. And once we get past that and we think about how these things actually happened, history is one of the most fascinating things there is.

Whoa, did not mean for that paragraph to happen, but that's quite alright. I'll get back to where I was actually going with this. As I was thinking, about history and stuff, I was thinking how easy it would be to fuck around with the next generation. Seriously, what is actually stopping me from writing up some "sacred religious text," carving it in stone, and burying it in my backyard? Actually, I'll tell you what is, the fact that I'd rather not be an asshole to future human beings. And because I feel totally ashamed at the fact that I just read this stuff that Socrates said about seeking truth and wisdom, and I'm sitting here talking about being the biggest troll in history. Or I could totally take a huge rock, carve something that looks like aliens wrote it, and bury that instead. I could cut open glow sticks and put the glow juice all over the rock too. I guess this would be better, kind of to remind future generations that aliens probably do exist somewhere, and so I wouldn't be as much of an asshole as much as I would simply be keeping them on their toes.

Speaking of keeping you on your toes, this is a pretty long post already, so I think the shower recliners will have to wait until tomorrow, unfortunately.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Thank you, Socrates

If there's anything I have learned very recently, it's that nothing makes you feel more naive and unwise than your 20th birthday. The world expects you to be an adult, and you're stuck in a teenage mindset. You're kind of like, what do you mean I'm an adult? If I can't buy beer, than surely, I am not an adult. Adulthood can wait until I have a bottle of wine to deal with it all. 

Even more recently too, I have had a philosophy class. Now, I haven't gotten the chance yet to be very wise, since the professor has cancelled class more than half of the time. This guy even went to the trouble of emailing us all to tell us there was no class Friday, and I'm all like, I know. You know how I know? Because on my schedule, it says that I have this class on Monday and Wednesday... So yeah. However, today was the first day we've had class in about two weeks, and for once, has been a class that I really took a lot more out of than I should. We read "Apology" by Plato, which was the speech that Socrates allegedly gave in his defense at his trial.

Now, if there's a better person to listen to at this point in my life, it's Socrates. This guy is all about the wisdom. This guy is also about the whole soul searching concept, which is a pretty good thing to be worried about at this point in my life. I'm 20 now, so naturally, all of a sudden, I find myself asking myself what I want out of life. What do I want to do? Who do I want to surround myself with? What are the morals that I hold dear and true? What do I think is right and wrong? When the hell am I going to get this show on the road and go out and do shit? As you can see, it's quite a trying time. Even more trying is to surround myself with people who have all of that figured out. Then I realise that I'm just being jealous and impatient with life, and that my time for everything will come. 

Now, if there's one thing I've always known, it's that I know absolutely nothing. Sometimes, honestly, I get in these mindsets where I really feel as though I'm figuring everything out, and everything's coming easily to me, then life knocks me on my butt. Maybe that's why that happens though. Maybe we need to be reminded that we know nothing sometimes. Maybe I need to be reminded that I still have a long way to go, so that I get up and keep going. One of Socrates' points he brings up at his trial is to say that without him being the "annoying fly that he is," that the state would just waste away. There would be no incentive for the state to get together and advance, because when you become comfortable in your state of being, you almost waste away. 

It's like people who take the elevator to go to the second floor. Yeah, you've made your life a little bit easier, but how does taking the easy way out make you a better person? I talk to people who have had to overcome adversities in their lives, and I see how much stronger it has made them. I have been very fortunate to not have suffered many adversities, but when life does get us down, we cannot let it get the best of us, because these moments are here to make us stronger and better people. 

It's just as applicable to my life in other ways too. My goal in life is to be happy and at the end of my life, know that I led a happy, fulfilling life. We do only live once. There is no escaping the reality that we will die. All we can do is take as much out of life as we can, not let our fears of what could happen hold us back, and basically be an open book, taking notes as we go along and gain experiences. 

I guess the best thing that Socrates has told me today, is that it's foolish to fear the unknown. He mentions at his trial that there is no point in worrying about death because he doesn't know anything about it. According to my philosophy professor, "it's like saying that a restaurant is bad before you even go there." This is a useful statement in all aspects of life too. Why should I fear the future? It hasn't happened yet. My future could be really fucking awesome. I mean, yeah, it could be really bad too, but honestly, if I don't know, then why should I decide to only dwell on the bad? Maybe I should be excited, since there is a chance that everything will be just fine and dandy. That would be a much more productive use of my time, right? As long as I just keep on going, and continue to strive toward being a better person, sticking to my guns when necessary and not letting things get me done, then my life will work out just fine. And I mean that. 

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

I promise, dogs and Ethiopian children have nothing to do with each other

I've become a victim of one of life's biggest frustrations. I was laying in bed, ready to drift off to sleep, and BAM, my head is filled with great ideas. I would tell the world what they are, but I CAN'T REMEMBER ANY OF THEM. They floated out of my head while I was asleep and they are never returning. I can only hope that one day, after I die, I am taken to another dimension where I will be reunited with all of my lost ideas.

I have a lot of random thoughts today.

1. I have discovered yet another reason why I need a dog. I drop a lot of food on the floor on accident, only when I do it here in my apartment, I actually have to clean it up. Then I'm stuck with a personal dilemma of whether or not I throw it away, because on one hand, there are starving children in Ethiopia, but on the other hand, it's not as though I really have all the time in the world to dance around with the vacuum cleaner. I'm a college student, not a 1950's housewife. So a dog may actually help me to stay clean, since it would always be picking up after me.

2. College has helped me discover yet another thing about the world. People my age apparently have no regard or respect for ketchup. How disappointing too, because ketchup is the most classic of all the condiments. It has a winning personality that just goes with everything. It is versatile, and is very compatible with everything. One would think that these are good enough reasons to respect ketchup, but apparently not. Going for a walk around campus, I can find at least three places where I have almost walked into spilled ketchup. This pisses me off for a couple of reasons.

     One: There are starving children in Ethiopia who don't have ketchup. They also don't have fries to put it on, but that's just one of many, many problems that Ethiopia has.

     Two: I would rather not walk around tracking red stuff everywhere. Ketchup does not take well to white shirts, and it probably also does not take well to white carpet. Also, I'd like to not have people think that I just came from a murder scene. Seriously, what if somebody was murdered the same day that I happen to walk through a giant pile of ketchup? That's inconvenience at its very best. I'm sure the police totally know the difference between ketchup and blood, but I would not be given back any time that I was judged up and down by other people.

3. Why don't we have a big chute that goes directly to Ethiopia? I know this has been on EVERYONE'S mind at some point in their life. Your mom takes your plate, calls you a spoiled little brat for wasting half of your food, begins the conversation about starving children, and you come up with the whole "giant trash chute" idea. I know everyone's done it at some point. If we have so many leftovers, why don't we just give them all to the starving children? Well, now that I'm older and wiser, I can say that this is a terrible idea.

     One: There are starving children everywhere. If this big trash chute is built, who says that the starving      children in Ethiopia are any better than the starving children in Moldova? Or Baltimore? We cannot build a network of "leftover food" chutes across the world. Or maybe we can. Maybe this idea is what will get me my wikipedia page one day. "Emily Day: She came up with the idea and design for a network of chutes that deliver unwanted leftover food directly to starving children." It's good, but I'll hold myself to a higher standard, since I can do better than "designer of a network of food chutes."

     Two: They're people, not vultures. No other human being deserves half of an old sandwich with a bite taken out of it. This probably should have been number one actually...

     Three: How else would we get children to eat their damn vegetables? America is fat, and we really need any cliche excuse we can get to force feed our children vegetables. I would not put myself above using guilt to do it. That's an emotional appeal, duh. We don't learn about that in English class for nothing.

So with that comes my next idea

4. I think instead of coming up with complex ideas for trash chutes, we should just go befriend a starving child and invite them over to dinner once a week. One day I'd like to think that I'll have enough money to do this, but then I do come back to reality and remember the liberal arts degree that I'm working towards. If anything though, I will be able to tell you where the concentration of starving children are and I will be able to make you a map for reference. Any little bit helps, right?

5. Another reason I need a dog. Because I obviously have enough time on my hands to think of all of this shit. Maybe I do need something to take over the rest of my free time.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The teletubbies: the real face of diversity. And douchebaggery.

For some weird reason unknown to me, I've wanted to write about the Teletubbies all day. Probably because I was watching tv last night, and that commercial came on where McDonald's talks about how much they value diversity but you see that every single employee is black. Last time I checked, if 100% of your workforce is of the same race, you are the exact opposite of diverse.

So this got me thinking about diversity, which led me to the Teletubbies. Now, looking back on it, that is the most fucked up show I've ever seen (sorry mom, but it is). But it is pretty diverse when you think about it. Just look at the characters.

Tinkie Winkie was obviously the most flaming big mutant, furry, robot, whatever those things were. I actually just checked. Wikipedia refers to them as a "mythological species," but I refuse to put them in the same category as unicorns. But anyway, he was purple, his antenna was an upside down triangle, and he had this big ass zebra bag that he carried around with him everywhere. If you're offended at this point, by the way, you can stop reading, because I don't care. There was nothing wrong with the fact that he was gay, but there's also no denying the fact that he was.

Dipsy looked as though he was severely economically disadvantaged. His face was really, really dirty. That, or they tried to make him the minority Teletubby, but they did a really bad job with the makeup and it ended up being really uneven. Of course, this was a British show, so they probably don't have much experience with tans. According to the Internet, they wanted to make him black and were just really bad at makeup.

Okay, Laa-Laa was obviously the special one. All the others have normal antenna shapes and hers is this weird squiggly line thing. Plus, I mean, her name really says it all.

And Po is an albino midget. Actually the Internet says she is Cantonese. So I guess never mind. Apparently she is just the one who cusses the others out in a foreign language when they piss her off.

Now the vacuum. This is where the discussion on diversity ends, and the sympathy for the vacuum begins. Seriously, the teletubbies all live together in this little Viking style house, built into a field, but hi-tech as shit, where they basically just party all day long. They eat all this custard, which has to be spiked with something, considering the fact that they are incoherent and the sun is a baby's face on fire. So guess what is poor vacuum does. That's right, it cleans up after these irresponsible jerks. They live in this little hi-tech frat house. They tickle the vacuum until it vomits custard everywhere and then they make it clean it up again. It's like some kind of fucked up act of hazing. Vacuum, you deserve better than that. Just leave them to clean up their own mess.

Now, I've ranted enough about the teletubbies, I guess it's time to delete my Internet history, so that the world doesn't think I'm on drugs.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

My own Wikipedia legacy

Alright, so this morning I've completely given up on sleep, since last night I had a dream that a cat was constantly biting my fingers as I tried to go to sleep, then I got up around 3 am and tossed and turned, then I finally got back to sleep and woke up now, so I think it's safe to say sleep is just not happening this morning. Thank you, cat. I bet my body actually just had this fear to see it again when I went back to sleep, so instead of dreaming, my subconscious was like, sleeping with one eye open to keep watch for the cat.

For once, I actually have no clue what to write about this morning. So I guess I will just have to start with one of those random thoughts that I have.

My life goal is to have my own Wikipedia page. 
I once edited Wikipedia. It felt empowering. I went to a Wikipedia page on corn, and changed the word "increased" to the word "decreased." I felt so bad. But it was like one of those instances that no one really cares about. It's like when you use limewire for the first time and you download one illegal song and you're like "hey guys... You'll never believe what I just did!" And everyone else is like "uh, yeah join the club." Or like when you have one glass of wine at a family meal at the age of 14 and you feel so bad because you're totally convinced that you were SO DRUNK. And then you go around talking about how much you love wine and everyone else is like, "Okay, cool, you want a cookie?"

Anyways, tangents aside, I'm kind of at a disadvantage here, because I kind of waited until the late 20th century to start existing. Seriously. Do you know how many people have lived before me, and how many legacies have been created? There can only be one Adele. There can only be one Abraham Lincoln. Unfortunately, there can be an obscene amount of untalented pop singers, but I have more respect for myself than to write a song about a day of the week. I mean, people these days have to get more and more creative to become memorable. Just look at Mumford & Sons. In the midst of a world of shitty pop music they were like "BAM. Folk music." They basically became famous overnight. Now you'll notice that you hear more folk music, but for some reason it doesn't have the same popularity as Mumford & Sons.*

*a disclaimer about Mumford & Sons: first of all, I am well aware of the fact that there is a lot of really good folk music out there. I listen to it. I have absolutely no clue why Mumford & Sons became more popular than some of the others. Now for the hipsters, who feel the need to hate on Mumford & Sons just because they are a popular band playing folk music, lighten up. They are a good band. You don't need to hate every single thing that is popular because you are superior to the masses.

Now, back to what I was saying. Kind of disadvantaged here. Every passing moment, i have bigger and bigger shoes to fill. However, all of those people had something in common. They took something that they loved and had a decent talent at, and they made something of themselves. I think that sometimes, that is all you need. There will be talented musicians, talented artists, talented writers, actors/actresses, political figured, etc, who will all, one day, earn their own Wikipedia page for perfecting their talents and never giving up. Unfortunately, there will also be a lot of assholes who also earn their own Wikipedia page for perfecting their talent of just being an asshole, like Hitler. And Kim Kardashian, who I guess isn't so much of an asshole as she is "useless, untalented, spoiled rotten whiny bitch." Whatever happens though, it's not like I need my legacy to be on a web page. There are Wikipedia pages for people who probably go unread anyway. Besides, half of the Wikipedia pages I read anyway are on fictional characters on tv shows.