Commitment Issues

I feel like I can say with full confidence that anyone reading this blog has seen a chick movie.  And chick movies are great.  They make you cry, they make you laugh (Shut up, you know that I'm right) and they make you wonder why every relationship can't just work out the way they do in the movies.  (Don't stop reading, I swear this isn't a review on He's Just Not That Into You).


But they also point out one huge flaw in humans.  Commitment issues.  I HATE commitment issues.  More so, I hate when someone makes a commitment to you and then flakes out.  Like for instance, being stood up for dinner, C'mon. If you make plans just show up.


Or what if someone made a commitment to water your plants when you go away on vacation but they lame out on you one week into your vacation and all of your [ficuses?] [fici?] Nope.  Just looked it up it is [ficussen]. - you think I am making this up- look  up the plural of culdesac. Don't worry about it, it is culsdesac.  Yeah. 


ANYWAY.


What if J.K. Rowling just didn't write the 7th Harry Potter book?  What if Dante only wrote the Inferno?  You'd be pissed.  Don't deny it.  What kind of jerkoff makes a commitment to provide you with literature and then just flakes out two weeks into it? 


[Did she just compare herself to Dante?  What a fuck.]


No but seriously, let's think big.  Let's think solutions. 


Here is what you do if someone is having commitment issues:
If it is you- stop having commitment issues.
If it is your significant other- first check with friends and relatives to see if this person is really your significant other- you might just be surprised to find out that you're crazy, and in no sort of relationship with this person.




What was I talking about?  It probably doesn't even matter a little bit.   You know what does matter?


THIS.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvGwvnzyw3Q

This is Too Urgent

I am a person.  And as a person I like to go out in public from time to time.  And yeah, I take my cell phone with me, send text messages, make calls, you know- the usual. 

Also, being a person, like I am, I have to use the restroom every now and then.  Now, I don't know if you're familiar with a public restroom, but it generally operates on a stall system.  The walls separating bathroom goes are not full sized, nor are they very thick, so it is pretty unavoidable to hear what the person beside you is doing. 

More and more I have experienced the person in the stall beside me using their cell phone.  First of all: yum.  Second of all: Why.

What text message is so important that it cant wait the two minutes it is going to take you to go to the bathroom?  I feel as though I don't want to associate expelling toxins from my body with having dinner with a date later that evening, but maybe that is just me?

If texting wasn't bad enough, there are the phone calls.  "Oh hey mom! Busy? Oh I'm not busy.  Oh yeah I got the package you sent so cool!"  or, "Oh hey Susie!  I am going to the hub for dinner and studying later wanna join?"  Yeah Grey's is on tonight I am sooo excited." 

Really? You're in a public bathroom, doing your business and you want to talk to your friend about TV?  I hope she can hear you pooping.

You have something really urgent that you have to say to someone AND you have to go to the bathroom?  Here is what you do.
1. Go to the bathroom.
2.  WASH YOUR HANDS.
3.  Deliver your urgent business.

I promise that by doing it in is order you will not lose time.  You take up more time being in the bathroom if you are trying to do your buisness and keep a handle on your phone and try to make the other person not realize that you're in the bathroom.  I PROMISE.

I made a castle out of Play-Doh today, so I guess I can't be too upset.

I should probably watch more quality TV

Alright.  We all know and love Sixteen and Pregnant, but have you ventured over to the world of Teen Mom?  Well if you haven't, do it.

Teen Mom takes the girls that were on the show Sixteen and Pregnant and follows them as new mothers.  I was watching an episode where they were following one "teen mother" who gave up her baby.

First of all, In my mind, you're not a mom if you don't have a baby... but I guess that is neithe here nor there.  But more importantly, this episode was following her relationship with her boyfriend.  I'm sorry, did I say boyfriend?  What I should have said was step-brother. 

Okay, so they're not blood related, but they call the same two people "mom and dad."  Further, they live in the same house, BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS ARE MARRIED.

So as if I am not weirded out enough by the episode, I see the boy sitting down with the mom, asking permission to propose. TO PROPOSE TO HIS SISTER.  Of course the mom says "Yes! Of Course! I love you!"

And at the end of the episode he proposes, and she says "yes."

In love withsomeone that you're related to?
Here is what you do:
1. Stop being gross.
2.  STOP BEING GROSS.
3.  Become A-sexual, there is a chance that your kids will want to marry you or their siblings and really, who wants kids like that?


I have been waiting for a while to find my "special someone"  Unfortunately for me, my brother is gay.  What is a girl to do?

Don't Waste Your Money on a New Set of Speakers

I needed some new kicks.  For those of you not hip to the lingo, that means I needed a new pair of sneakers.  (For the record, I am also not hip to that lingo, I just really wanted to say it.)

For a while now I have been seeing commercials for these Reeboks that shape your legs and butt just from normal use!  Like any gullable consumer I convinced myself that if got these shoes in weeks I would be looking like a super-model.

So  today I walked downtown to buy a new pair of shoes, and I had this particular pair locked in my mind.  Well there is really only one sports store within walking distance of my apartment, so that is where I went. Well, as luck would have it, this store doesn't even sell Reeboks. OF COURSE.

So I began casually browsing the shoes that they do carry, (I hate walking into a store and then walking right out, it makes me feel inferior for some reason?)

As I was browsing, of course the guy asks me if I need help.  So I say, "sure".  And OF COURSE he is the nicest old guy EVER.  And of course he fits my foot, and goes through about eight different pairs of shoes, spending about forty minutes with me helping me find the right fit.  In the back of my mind I cannot help but think of these miracle butt sculpting shoes.  AND as luck would have it I wasn't really "sold" on any of the shoes he had showed me either.

Another concern that I had was that I really wanted a dark shoe.  Yeah.  I know, it is really crucial what color your workout shoe is. OH WAIT.

 But OF COURSE he has spent all this time with me, and then finally shows me this great dark grey and green Under Armour shoe.  As luck would have it this time, I really do like this shoe that he has showed me.

Yeah.  They didn't have it in my size.  But he showed me a similiar shoe that is lighter in color, (no butt-miracle). The shoe was alright.

 But like I said, he spent all this time on me.  I know that he works on commission, and I'd feel like a royal dick just walking out of the store without buying a pair of shoes.

Note to self, when buying things:
Don't go to the store with something particular in mind with no "real" reason.
Do not be fooled by the kindness of sales-people.  IT IS THEIR JOB.
Don't buy something just because you feel bad.


So yeah.  Now I have a pair of shoes that I kind of like, and that won't transform my butt into that of a God's.  On the bright side:  The Reeboks probably wouldn't have actually done that either.

Lenten Success

I know that I cannot possibly be the only person who is Catholic.  And I am also sure that I cannot possibly be the only one who is an epic fail at keeping my Lenten vows.

I have come to the conculsion that I need to set an alarm on my phone, for every three hours, if I even want hope of remembering Lent. 

My favorite instance of failure took place yesterday.  I awoke pretty early, around 10:30ish, and trotted off to the HUB (big place with food, study areas, annoying people handing out flyers, etc)- and after about an hour of being there I decided that I was very hungry and that nothing could satisfy me quite like Panda (QUALITY Chinese Fast Food).  So I met up with a friend, and got Orange Chicken and a rice bowl.  After eating that, my friend decided that he REALLY wanted a Wendy's Frosty.  Being the caring soul that I am- I could not deny him his greatest desire.  So we hopped in the car and we drove to Wendy's.  On my way there I realized that I gave up chocolate for Lent, so decided that I had to be a good Catholic and get a Vanilla Frosty.  When we pulled up to the drive through window I decided that I also wanted a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger (yeah I'm the epitome of healthy).  So I got my burger and my Vanilla frosty and began enjoying my food.  I ate the burger, and started on the Frosty.  I had never had a Vanilla Frosty before, so I was pretty apprehensive.  To my surprise- I liked it.  I liked it a lot.  As I was congratulating myself for following Lent and not getting the chocolate it dawned on me:  It was Friday. 

I may have eaten Chicken, Beef, AND Bacon, but have no fear ladies and gentleman, I got the VANILLA Frosty.

Additionally- I just ordered a dozen Insomnia Cookies, and yes, about half of them were chocolate.

Catholic and experiencing similair Lenten failure issues?
Here is what you do:
Change your faith. 

Preferably not to Judiasm.  I have no religious qualms with Judiasm- but I feel that the Jews have a lot more eating rules than the Catholics and their rules are year long, not just for the forty days leading up to Easter.
Become a Protestant, or an Atheist, I hear that they have little to no regulations on what it is they eat. 


I. Love. Nannerpuss.

I'll scratch your back, but please don't touch mine

Alright.  So let's talk about toilets.  Public toilets in particular. 
First of all, they are gross.  Second of all, they are gross.

But today something new and unexpected happened to me.

It began as a normal trip to the public restroom:
Went in the stall.
Gathered some toilet paper.
Created a make-shift seat protector.
Squated over the toilet anyway.
Finished.
Flushed.

Normal, right?
WRONG.

The toilet literally spit water at me.  Projectile toilet water.  That really would be my luck wouldn't it?

After I spent all that time protecting myself from the grossness that is the toilet, THAT happens?!

Well of course, I needed to know if it was a fluke or if it happened every time... In case you were wonderng- it does happen EVERY time.  Or at least the four times that I tried it.



Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it showered me.

Oh, Penn State

The Pennsylvania State University is one of the finest instituions in higher education in areas where it really counts.  What other school was ranked the number one party school this year?  Oh that's right. None.

Things such as apartment parties, Thirsty Thursdays, and public transportation are some of the most important outside factors to foster this title that we, as Penn Staters, hold so dearly.  But there is one thing that sets us above the rest.  And that is heart. 

Penn State is go big or go home in every sense of the word (word? Phrase, woman.  P-h-r-a-s-e).  We are constantly ranked top student section for football, and number one alumni association in America.  One of Penn State's biggest foundations of pride is our sense of unity, our sense of one-ness.  Just as there are no names on the back of our sports jerseys, there are no labels on our red Solo cups either.

Penn State literlly has hundreds of clubs and organizations for students to join.  These clubs are not just a place for students to share in one common interest.  They are a place for students to share in multiple common interests.  The recurring theme in about 98% of the clubs?  We loooove to drink.  (Did I say we? Surely I meant they, I am only 20 years of age, and I certainly don't break any laws, especially those involving underage drinking. Ever).

Think your college can live up to the challenge? WRONG.

Do you have a special holiday soley dedicated to drinking? I didn't think so.

A new, yet beloved, Penn State Tradition is that of State Patty's Day.  Once upon a time, oh say about four years ago- Saint Patrick's Day fell during spring break. (OH NOS!)  Not to fear!  Penn State Heart is here!  The students of the time conjured the oh so brilliant idea to designate a day (much like Saint Patrick's Day) to drinking! (Yaaayyy!)  Well as legend has it, or fact rather- Saint Patricks Day has not fallen during Spring Break since, but State Patty's Day was here to stay.

Don't go to Penn State and want to be as awesome as us?  Here is what you do:
Transfer to Penn State.

Asher Roth, your song isn't that good.

Don't Tread on Me

I am in college.  I go to the gym daily(ish). 

Now, in the beginning of the year everybody knows that the gym is going to be overly crowded.  It is full of people trying to keep New Year's resolutions that they have made, promising themselves that by the time summer rolls around they are going to look good in a bathing suit. 

Something else everybody knows: Most college kids have little to no will power.  This is not a slight at group of people, just a fact of life. [You take the good  you take the bad you take them both and there you have The Facts of Life!]

Now, I go to Penn State, and we have this little thing known as THON (Google that for yourself if you don't know about it) - and this is another motivation for students to go to the gym. 

Long story short- both THON and the beginning of the year are done, so the gym is much less crowded, making it much easier to observe people. 

I have discovered just a few things about people that go to the gym that really does not sit well with me

The first of these things would be texting while sitting on a machine.  I especially dislike this when they are on a machine that I want to use. 

I mean, REALLY?  You really need your phone while in the gym?  FURTHER- you need to occupy the space where I want to be while you text? Stand in a corner and text.  OH WAIT.  MAYBE it would be a good idea to leave your phone in your locker.  But that's just me. 


Aside from the texters there is another group of people that kill me at the gym:  The people who stare at other people.  Now- let's get things straight- I observe other people- but I do it properly.  I glance at people every now and then just to see what is up.  It is not OK to stare at someone the entire time that they are doing crunches- trust me, they do not want you to stare at them.

There are only two reasons that people would want you to look at them while at the gym. One reason would be if there is a mutual attraction between the two parties, and there is casual glancing from one person to the next.  This reason is perfectly acceptable, if used in the right quantities. 

Which leads me to the next set of people that bother me at the gym.  The people who cleary DO want you to stare at them the entire time they are working out.  "Look at me! Look at me! I can bench press 500 pounds! Me tough guy! Me so tough!"  We get it.  You're in better shape than us.  You probably have a small penis though, so I'm not all that jealous.

Now for the last type of person that I discovered today while at the gym: the person who sings to himself the whole time.  This person need not be wearing headphones- he can just as easily sing along to the music playing over the speaker.  The worst is when they get really really into it.  It is as if they are singing in the privacy of their own shower.  Guess what?  They gym is a public place.   People can see you.  Much more- they can see you.

Oh yeah.  I am definitely guilty of being that lip-synching gym star.  Whatever, I'm cool with it.

Easy as 123.

So I have always thought myself to be somewhat of a connoisseur in the realm of women's underwear.  I really had no premise on which to base this- other than my habitual use of the product.

I thought I knew all the styles.  Bikini, string bikini, thong, boyshort, low rise, hipster, briefs, crotchless, and g-string. 

I thought that was pretty much the gist of it.  Boy was I wrong.  Today whilst perusing the web and looking for stripper costumes, you know- the usual, I came across something that I had never seen before.  Something that I had never even imagined could be.  They call it: The C-String.

Whhhhat is "the c-string" you ask?  Well. It is kind of like a hair band for your lady-land, but let us explore some more! (I wanted to rhyme- sue me).

According to Wikipedia the C-string is as narrow as a g-string but without the band around the waist, leaving just a C shaped piece between the legs held in place firmly by a flexible internal frame. Since there is no material around the waist, the c-string completely eliminates the panty lines which thongs and other underwear create. C-strings are also designed for use as beachwear, which reduces the tan lines that would have been left by the side straps of even a g-string.

I'm sorry.  BEACH WEAR?  What kind of beach is this?  If this macaroni noodle is deemed acceptable beach attire I am thinking that it is the type of beach where one could just go commando- but that is just me.
 
If you buy something that requires you to wear a "C-string" in order to not show panty lines- maybe you should just pick out a differnt dress.  Men, I cannot stress this enough- if YOU need a C-sting, please please PLEASE consider letting your balls drop and manning up.
 
 
THIS is what real men look like:

If It Is Up to Me, You'll RSVP!

Childhood obsessions. We allll had 'em. Maybe yours was bugs? Alternatively, maybe it was Bugs. Regardless, I am sure there was something. Something to which your were irrationally attatched.

I would like to think that by revisiting our childhood obsessions we can see a little insight into who we have become today, and who were are going to become later in life.

I'll admit it, I was obsessed with the Olsen Twins. You were too, don't lie to yourself. But I didn't just like them, I wanted to be one of them (apparently I had no sense of bio-logic). I had all of their movies, I watched all of their television shows, I pretended that I had my own Mary-Kate and Ashley TV show (I was always Ashley, for the record), I bought their clothing line, I frequently checked their website (I got the internet while in elementary school so stop judging me), I sang all of their songs and I was in their fan club, which they so cleverly disguised as their "Fun Club" (Fans can write to 859 Hollywood Way, Suite 412, Burbank, CA 91505 for information or visit their official website at http://www.marykateandashley.com/. ... Not sure if this still holds- I'll try it out and get back to you)

So one day, I decided that I would look back and see why I was so obsessed, you know get a little insight into who I am and who I am to become. I stumbled upon (not via http://www.stumbleupon.com/, but via me being creppy and YouTube stalking them) this jewel.




It is now clear to me why I loved them so.  The answer is very simple- I was in training to be a pedophile.

Pardon Me While I Geekgasm

Things that make me really upset:
Hypocrites
Bump-Its
And Princess Peach

So last night was Saturday night, and like any really cool twenty year old fine and sexy lady- I summoned a male friend to come over at 4AM.  You're thinking "Woot Woo! Booty call!" ... Or maybe you're thinking, "You stupid whore.  I hope you get Syphilis."  Well, I wasn't the one getting The Syph last night, Peach was. 

So the 4AM summoning was less of a booty call and more of a Mario Party tryst. 

I don't know if you've ever played before, but I can assure you- Peach is a whore.  As a rule of thumb when I play and need a computer opponent I always choose Peach, because I hate her so.  I normally put her on "easy" just because I am immature I like to say "Dur da durrr, Peach is easy... Like a whore."

Long story short I put Peach on Normal last night and she not only won (Yeah, apparently I suck at this game) But she set two records. HOW is it possible for a computer player to set records?

Peach always manages to win.  And I know it is because she is getting on her knees for Bowser, but C'MON.  I am continually upset by her because she doesn't deserve to win. Not because she is better than me.  That isn't it.  If she deserved to win I'd probably still hate her, but out of respect, not out of the fact that she is a whore who gets everything that she doesn't deserve.  QUIT GETTING KIDNAPPED AND ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING USEFUL. Woe is you, Peach. WOE IS YOU.

Peach to me is a representation of every Adderall snorting, food purging, lemonade drinking girl in college, and I think that it is an abomination that in the original Mario Party games that you can have Peach as a player and NOT TOAD.

E'rrybody knows that Toad gets all the bitches.

Don't believe me? < That is a link, in case you didn't know.

"I wish my mom would understand that just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I have to stop going out."

Living outside one's own boudaries.  It is something that we all want to do, but perhaps something that not all of us should do. 

My cookies are frosted, yours should be too.  On second thought, maybe they shouldn't.  Why is it that some people think that if they wear smaller clothing that they will look smaller?  It is not true, don't kid yourself.  If you're a medium, wear a medium, a small is going to do nothing for you, except maybe highlight your flaws.  And if you're an 8X, by all means please take that as an invitation to wear a medium. OH WAIT. 

Now, do not get me wrong, I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with being an 8X or even an 80X (and again don't get me wrong, there definitely is something wrong with that, it just isn't the point that I'm making).  But people, embrace you, don't just embrace a third of you. 

I was walking through a building today,  (okay, that is a lie, it was yesterday- today I haven't even left my apartment) and I see this girl, and I'm going to be straight with you I felt as though I had been assaulted.  If I wanted to see that much skin, I would watch porn (and trust me, I do).  Further: IT IS FEBRUARY.  February is no time to be wearing two squre inches of fabric, not in Pennsylvania anyway. And for some people, (myself included, so don't think I'm being all high and mighty), there is no month in which that amount of clothing is acceptable. 

Go to the store.
Find a sweater.
Now put that one down and grab your actual size.
Buy that sweater.
Take it home.
Wear it.


Sixteen and Pregnant is a quality show.

Following My Own Blog

Tell me that you don't hate it when someone endlessly laughs at his own jokes?  Maybe you haven't experienced this sort of person.  Well let me describe this sort of person to you. 
1. Said person tells a joke.
2. Said person laughs at said joke.
3. Said person continues to laugh at said joke.
4. Conversation progresses in a differnt direction.
5.  Said person references said person's said joke.
6. Said person laughs again, probably ending with a sort of sigh as if to say, "Oh those really were the days."

It is alright, said person, we didn't like you before you did that anyway.


I am following my own blog.