Gandhi

What's black and white and red all over?

Oh, I dunno:

A zebra with a sunburn.
A black Santa.
A bloody skunk.
A Caucasian with blackheads and pimples.
A mime.
A lemur that got into some red paint.
A devil in a tuxedo.
A candy cane with some sort of fungus growing on it.
An embarrassed and blushing snow leopard.
A black widow that got into some white-out.
The cover to the most horrible book series in the world: Twilight.
An apple with a dalmatian complex.
A dalmatian with an apple complex.

Or newspapers.

But can we agree that at least my answers are way more creative?

I had a dream that we stopped calling Benjamin Benjamin altogether, and he somehow picked up the name Barney.
I think the moral of that dream is to start calling your child by its name.

I don't know if I've mentioned a goal of mine on this blog or not. Definitely not a life goal (TRUE STORY ABOUT HOW I ALMOST FAILED AT LIFE BUT THEN DIDN'T COMING UP LATER), but it's something I've researched and would like to be able to accomplish.

Stoicism: the repression of emotion and indifference to pleasure or pain.

Zen. Aloof. Stoic.

Why would I want to be able to accomplish stoicism?
Because feelings are annoying. Especially the ones that aren't real (am I right, ladies?). They lead people to do irrational and stupid things, and in a fight between thought and feeling, feeling almost always wins.
That is, unless it is weak.

So after much research and inability to resolve the whole feeling issue, I was sitting on Mike's couch and found out the secret to stoicism.

Here it is:

Not caring.

And here's a picture of it:

Of course there was an ugly word in such a fantastic picture because humans always find a way to ruin awesome things, so I "painted" it out in Microsoft "Paint" (which, by the way, has had a serious upgrade since Vista. You should check it out.) and replaced said (but not really said- more like mentioned) ugly word with "beans".

But I liked the picture of the frog.

And the way it wasn't giving beans.

I thought it displayed the idea of "stoicism" quite well.

And the way I "feel" about finals.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

And now,  the TRUE STORY ABOUT HOW I ALMOST FAILED AT LIFE BUT THEN DIDN'T.

Friday night: date night.

I drove to Mike's to meet him after work, and I was reading this new book I got called "This is a Book" by Demetri Martin. I had my keys in my car to roll down the windows because it was quite warm Friday evening.

So Mike shows up and his carpool friend is all like, "So he makes you wait for him, does he?"

And I was like, *awkward laugh* "No?"

And then after he left, Mike comes over and he's like, "You're reading a book?"

Me: "Yeah, it's called This Is A Book. I got one for my sister, too."

*at this point, I start climbing out of the car, but realize that my window is still open so then I get back in the car and roll the window up and then I manually lock the door because it's a habit and I grab my stuff and I'm about to close my door...*

Then I said to Mike, "Oh wow- you almost witnessed me locking myself out of my car" for which the spare key is locked safely away 120 miles back home. And then I proceeded to get my keys out of my car and lock the car without them in it.

Crisis averted.

I remain good at life.

Here's another true story that happened the same night:
Since Friday is "casual", I dress "semi-casual" to dinner, which usually means a cute sundress or skirt.
(I eventually want to throw a party where "Yacht Flare" is the attire. But that is just an aside.)
So I don a light tee paired with a smart blazer over a lacy skirt and kitten heels.
98% of you have no idea what I just said.
Translation: I looked good. And I would say I have a picture of it, but that would not be a true story.
Apologies. I should really start taking more pictures of myself, shouldn't I!
After dinner, I go into one of those scary package stores to pick up some margaritas.
I'm checking out, and the girl working there is like, "Can I see your ID?"
And I'm like, "YES!"
And she said, "Thank you. And happy birthday. Just sign this."
*whilst I'm signing, she continues*
Her: "I really love your outfit, by the way."
Me: "Thank you SO MUCH."
Her: "I mean, the bag doesn't really go with it, but I've never seen lace worked so well."
Me: "Ok..."
*take maragitas, leave*
*while Mike and I drive away*
Me: Why do people have to have opinions? And then why do they have to SAY them?

I mean, if I had been injured in anyway, that would've been adding insult to injury.
I just don't know why she had to build me up with the whole "happy birthday" and "I love your outfit" thing.

Catty, catty girls.

Practicing stoicism,
TWS