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.