Saturday, May 29

Too much grease in a week, a.k.a. Kill me now

I’m trying this fad diet. It’s seriously a phenomenon. Like, everyone is trying it. It doesn’t seem to be working, but fad diets rarely do and why should that stop me from trying it too? It’s really messing with my digestion though. Bad. Like, really bad. Anyway, it’s where you eat fast food every day. That’s it. It’s really easy to follow, but again, my body is really upset with me and the amount of toilet paper used in this house has gone seriously crazy. Remember how I said no more Paint drawings? I lied.

That’s right, they’re not even the same type of graph, nor do they show the same thing, nor do they make much sense. The things to grasp from analyzing these horrible graphs are the following:
1. I use more toilet paper the most people NORMALLY, without eating massive amounts of greasy slop. Not so much in amount per use, but in number of uses daily. I’m so glad you know that now.
2. Eating fast food on consecutive days ends in misery, or preferably, death. Because then at least Roommate could save money by buying less toilet paper.
3. Paint graphs/drawings in general take way too much time, and I should be sleeping, because otherwise I end up publishing graphs explaining how often I poop on the Internet.

Possibly discovered I am an Idiot Savant...but then where's the Savant part?

My bathroom routine tonight was just one thing after another reminding me that I had no business having a GPA as high as I did when I graduated. I wiped my face after I washed it and looked down at the towel and saw a little blood. Convinced I was bleeding out of my eye, I quickly wiped again and saw nothing. I thought I must have been wiping in the wrong part of my eye, because there was no other explanation for what I saw except that I was bleeding out of my eye. A-ha!! There was the blood again! I looked in the mirror (which, other than the fact that the probability of my eye bleeding is REALLY small, the small detail that I was seeing out of both my eyes should have alerted me to the error of my thinking), and then I remembered that I had just popped a pimple in the eye/bridge-of-nose region. And then I felt really dumb.

But wait, there’s more!

I was brushing my teeth when something else happened that makes the prospect that my teachers just felt really sorry for me because I tried so hard and thought I was so smart so they passed me a very real possibility. Background: I am blind. OK, I almost wrote, “Like, LEGIT blind” when I realized that’s not at all legit and I was going to give my (again, sarcastic number) millions of readers a very wrong picture of myself. I’m very very very nearsighted. This is more realistic but also less dramatic. However, this story will demonstrate 1) my utter stupidity and, 2) more informatively, the severity of my nearsightedness. I had already taken out my contacts and was brushing my teeth when I felt a hair on or near my mouth. Or possibly a wayward bristle poking me in the lip. I reached for it without looking in the mirror first, and got nothing. But I felt it again and tried to grab it again. Still nothing. Now I was getting irritated, so I went to look in the mirror to figure out what the crap this was. Again, very nearsighted person that I am, I have to get REALLY close to the mirror to see myself clearly. In the process of getting near enough to see the hair/bristle to pull it out of my mouth, I got too close and stabbed myself in the gum with my toothbrush, successfully making me feel like a mental patient who needs an orderly to brush their teeth for them and remind them not to swallow the paste or choke on the brush, since I forgot in a mere 2 seconds that I had a toothbrush sticking out at a 90⁰ angle from my mouth and getting close to a sheet of glass with my face might be a bad idea. This begs the obvious and unfathomable question: HOW AM I A COLLEGE GRADUATE? OK, that is actually not that difficult to accomplish, I guess. Lots of real idiots graduate from college. Better question: HOW DO THEY (the vague, inscrutable they) EXPECT ME TO BE AN ADULT??? I CAN’T BRUSH MY TEETH WITHOUT STABBING MY FACE!!! Figure that one out and you get a cookie. Unless I picked up a reader outside of a 10 miles radius from my current position, because I'm not mailing you ONE COOKIE. Buy yourself one and claim it's from the super cool blogger chick you "know" and then you'll be promoting me too. You get cookie; I get promotion. Everyone wins.

Thursday, May 27

Sometimes You Just Gotta Change It Up

So, I have decided this is going to be a funny blog. Why, my multitudinous (note: sarcasm) readership might ask? Because another blogger has inspired me (side note: I’m really impressed that MS Word recognizes the word “blogger”). Now, I realize I’m not that funny. You quickly will too. But l have random observations that people seem to find slightly humorous. Or they’re really polite and laugh anyway. Crap…that’s what I do to my dad. So this is probably going to flop. But oh well. I’ll be entertained for sure.

You know how people on TV or in movies go, “Oh, I’m just too busy for a relationship right now. I’m focusing on my career,” but you know they’re just lying because it’s a chick flick and she really does want a boyfriend because you saw the trailer and you know she falls for this guy who seems like a jerk but has a heart of gold and she’s just saying that because she’s lonely but she’s sick of all the blind dates her friends make her go on? Well, in the REAL world (where I’m unfortunately finding myself), that can actually be a legit excuse. For example, I want someone to hold my hand and watch movies with me and buy me dinner (dear LORD do I ever want someone to buy my poor butt some dinner), but I have ZERO time to give to that hypothetical guy who, if he did all that crap, would totally deserve a lot of my time. I mean, I want a puppy too—for many of the same reasons as a boyfriend, hand-holding included—but it’s unfair to the poor little guy who just wants me to scratch his ears and fill his dish and take him for walks, and I’m out making a pittance and sucking up to crazy people at work to give him all that. Again, all those things I described could also go with a boyfriend. OK, I am no longer sure if I’m talking about a puppy or a man, so it’s time to stop.

UPDATE: I definitely should have had a better transition between my two paragraphs. It totally sounded like I introduced then started a comedy routine, and for the life of me I couldn’t read that second paragraph any other way except like a stand-up routine…too Seinfeld. Gotta work on that. Also, MS Word also knows “Seinfeld.” And yet it freaks out on my name.

Word’s all “WTF? Just add it to my dictionary.”
And I’m like “That’s not the point. …Fine.”

Update #2: While it is fun to use Paint to draw cartoons about how I feel toward computer programs who are not as fixated on my importance as I am, I think I’m just embarrassing myself and I think I’m going to stop. Future testing of theory to follow.