Pecans

I made my own non-alcoholic drink.
I'm calling it "Sparkling Pool Water", and I'm going to share it with you.

Sparkling Pool Water
2 parts Mountain Blast Powerade
1 part Minute Maid Lemonade
1 part Sprite
Crunchy Ice

When you're done, it should look as cool and refreshing as the Caribbean. Or like the water on Roller Coaster Tycoon.
It's my new drink this summer, and it's gonna be a thing!
I probably should mentioned that it tastes nothing like actual pool water and should not contain chlorine or urine in it. If it does, something went horribly, horribly wrong.
I expect to continue inventing awesome drinks at restaurants when I'm feeling especially twirly.

Now on a completely separate note, here's a little session of what really grinds my gears:

1. When people skim my e-mails/blog/conversations.
It's. Really. Annoying.

I try to make my communications very easy to read by using small-ish sentences and short paragraphs.
Also, I don't beat around the bush. Ergo, everything I write/say must be important.

Now, it'd be different if I was writing a public service announcement, a newspaper article, or a fire drill because these are skimmable documents.
But when I am explaining to you the details of my life in which you have previously asked so voraciously about, I expect you to actually listen/read what I have to say instead of just skimming and then ask me for a summary in which I will perhaps just copy and paste my previous message.

Take time to READ, people. You miss out on so much when you don't.
Unfortunately, skimming the news has corrupted so many of you that it's only a habit in which you sadly apply to all literature.

2. When teacher's syllabus says that papers that count for 20% of the final grade are due May 3rd so I plan for a wild vacation afterwards May 4-5th only to find out two days ago that she has moved the due date of the papers to finals week, so I have to come back from my wild vacation and think about economic development instead of being done with it like I had planned on all...semester...long.

Ok. You could've skimmed that one. But NO MORE!

3. When I have dreams about being late to stuff.

4. Music
a. When people think it's such a crime that I don't particularly like "classic rock".
Yes, I know that Queen, the Beatles, and Boston among others are "classics" but that doesn't mean that I should automatically like all of their songs or know all of them. I'm on Mike's side that there is nothing wrong with "living in my own generation". I think it's good to appreciate the classics, but it doesn't make me satanic if I don't listen to them/know exactly what you're talking about just because it happened to be popular, oh I don't know, 40 years ago.
b. I hate how I can't "define" the music I listen to. It's not like anyone knows what it is anyway.

If I say, "I like some Belle & Sebastian" people are like, "Oh, you're one of those snobby indie kids. I bet you like John Mayer, Jack Johnson and Iron &Wine."
-quite the opposite assumption, actually.
Or if I say, "I listen to Taylor Swift in my car" people are like, "Oh, so you like country?"
-quite the opposite assumption, actually.
Or if I'm like, "I really like Whitley's stuff" they're like, "WHO? THAT'S SO OBSCURE. KATY PERRY? LADY GAGA? NO? OK."
-quite the opposite assumption, actually.

I'm just going to stop telling people what I like altogether because no one likes what I do, and it's useless to try to find parallels and commonalities. The only people that have even come close to having the same tastes as me are Sammy Rhodes and Patrick Cossart.
I'm convinced that music tastes are like fingerprints, and no one's going to have the same one as me.

c. How I have to watch stupid advertisement videos before I listen to music on YouTube or Grooveshark. You guys used to be so cool...

5. When there are babies in Hobby Lobby.

6. How my neighbor above me thinks that our back patio is his personal ashtray.

And that's about it.

For the Price of a Cup of Tea,
TWS

^That's a pretty cool Belle & Sebastian song, btw.

Curds and Whey

1. Trite is an adjective that means "lacking originality"
2. Tripe is a noun that means "nonsense or rubbish"
3. Tripe is also cow stomach.

So if a cow's stomach is in knots, then it has a tight tripe,
But a knotted stomach is an idiom, which makes it trite,
And cows shouldn't even be nervous, so the situation is tripe.

So a tight tripe is type of trite tripe.

5 times fast.

It's a thinker.

And I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect,
TWS

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

Abdomen

I had a weird night.

I guess it all started this afternoon when I went to International Accounting to take my test. I knew the answers to the questions, but I just couldn't formulate my answers the way I wanted them. Finally, I finished, and I took my test up to the teacher's office, where she informs me that I have the highest grade in both of her classes and that I made a perfect score on the current event papers.

This is International Accounting, guys.
This is the class I complain about all the time on this blog.
Do you see the irony ever so prevalent in my life?

So then I went home, and I didn't feel like cooking, so I just heated up tomato soup and ate it with bread and cheese. I had planned to work on a Knapp audit case, but I just got SO tired at like 6:30.
So instead of working on Knapp, I took a nap.

And then, I woke up, and I had a strong urge to color.
But I had no coloring book.

So I drove down to the Dollar General by the park and spent like 30 minutes just looking at all the stuff there. I was really close to buying a Lisa Frank coloring book, but I was like, Nah- that'd be going too far.
Because, you know, buying a coloring book at all isn't.
I have the attention span of my nephew.

*I can say that now*

But I still bought an animal coloring book, a brand spanking new 64 pack of crayons, hand soap that smells like grapefruit, a candle that smells like Hawaii, and matches.

Oh yes. MATCHES.

And I thought about buying alcohol, because I can do that now, but I realized that even if I did go into one of those scary package stores, I wouldn't know what to buy. I don't know how to make drinks.

This is a graph explaining everything I  know about alcoholic beverages:

The more colorful it is, the tastier it will be.

And that's about it. 

I'm going to have to take a vacation and learn how to make a mean Harvey Wallbanger. 

Whatever that is.

So then I went home and colored and listened to music for like an hour.

My senior year of college is turning out to be like my senior year of high school.
When you're so bored and burned out and all you can think about is reverting to childhood and the things that make you happy at your core.

Can't go back now,
TWS

A Megabyte is a Paradox

Hot chocolate is...
-wait for it-
my new favorite thing.

Even just made with tap water and without marshmallows, I feel like I could drink it always.

Furthermore, I only drink coffee once or twice a week now. Even then, it's starting to taste more and more like, to quote a certain David here, "muddy bean water".

Ergo, Operation Coffee Break = successful.
Even though I still get headaches every other day.

In other just as unimportant news, a small part of me wants to own an iPhone.

I know.

So the bigger part of me wants to punch the smaller part of me in the face.
But, unfortunately, that wouldn't change anything.

List of stuff to buy when I get a big-girl job:

1. Shaving cream for my laygs.
2. Air fresheners and candles
3. A new beach towel
4. An iPhone

In that order.

Succumbing,
TWS

Synopsis

A complementary 3-step guide to having an awesome 21st birthday with your boyfriend:

1. Go to the park.

Forsyth Park was REALLY green.
It was jealous that it wasn't its 21st birthday. 

Disappointed Tree is disappointed. #Faces in Places.

PICNICS ARE SO FUN.

True story: So we were walking from the car to go have a picnic, and there was this (black) man in a car, and he was yelling at us to get our attention, but he didn't sound very nice, so we ignored him, and then he started cussing us out, and the only rationale behind his behavior was that perhaps I own a very offensive looking picnic basket.

But there is absolutely nothing offensive about birthday picnics.

2. Go shopping.

This is me acting like I own a $60 dress from Gap.

I took a picture of a mannequin with a metal rod in her leg as a tribute to Biff, who actually has a metal rod in her leg. Get better soon, man.
The world misses you.

3. Go out to eat and drink.

I got carded. And this is the face that I give to the little red box around my face that says "Under 21" because that is a lie! And my first drink was that peach daquiri you see on the left.

And it was delicious.

 The end,
TWS

Vignt et UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

That's 21 in French.

And this is the song of today.

Go ahead.
Click it.

After my first listen I was like, "This is cute."
And then after I saw the video, I was like, "That guy is cute."
And then, after my third listen, it was one of my favorite songs.
Especially the "break-down" part where the black guy comes out and starts rapping.

BE NOT AFRAID- if you haven't listened to it yet.
If you are under the age of 30, you will probably like the song.
If you are over the age of 30, you should listen to the song anyway in order to appreciate the younger, jaw-dropping awesome culture that we live in today.

It's one of my songs for when I need to get S done.
It gets me pumped for homework.
And laundry.
And getting dressed.
What?

Yeah.
It's THAT good of a song.

So you guys can enjoy that while I'm enjoying...my birthday.
You gotta party like it's not, party like it's not.
*oh-woah*

Pictures to come,
TWS

Arrow, Meet Knee

And just like that I'm unemployed again.

I had a good run. Learned a lot, made a bit.
"A bit" = an amount far below poverty line.

But it's okay. I'm still young, and I still have time to invest and make money off of other people making money.

*GASP*
(Does Allie J finally believe in the stock market now?)

We'll see.

Last week, I had to file some kids' tax returns because they had ballin' dividends and gains.
And I want to be one of those kids.

I need some type of income anyway to hold me over until I get a ballin' job.
To pay for all the sexy panties.
I'm just kidding.

Or am I?

Sexy panties are a luxury good. So until all of my "normal" needs are met, there shall be no sexy panties.
And that, good sirs, is how economics is applicable to real life.

So I'm going to go research some solid investments.
And then I'm going to buy them and sit around on my arse while I wait for their value to appreciate.
Because, my dudes, that is how it's done.

Living the life,
TWS

Paragraph

When I was young, I used to think that Subway was actually a underground metropolitan subway and the people that walked into the place were actually commuting to and from work.
And then I grew up and realized that it was a sandwich shop that is actually quite delicious.
Remember Baldinos?
(or would it be 'baldinos' since it's all hipster and undercapitalized like that?)

Funny hipster joke:
Q: Why did the hipster burn his tongue on Starbucks coffee?
A: He drank it before it was cool.

Whenever I'm trying to sleep and there's this really obnoxious lawn mower/hedge cutter/weed whacker/lumber chipper in my backyard because the apartment complex decides they need to start landscaping at 7 freaking 30 in the morning, I try to pretend that I'm at home and that the noise is just Dad on his sawmill.
It doesn't help me go back to sleep, but it makes me hate the workers less.

Running through sprinklers is one of my favorite pastimes.

The more I see wedding pictures on Facebook, the more I don't want to get married in an 80 pound wedding dress followed by a trail giggly, garrulous girls in matching dresses.
It just looks cumbersome. Cucumbersome, even.
And you all know my thoughts on cucumbers.

I should probably spend less time on Facebook and more time taking pictures of my face.
Because that's what the world needs more of, am I right?

I'm so sarcastic, I can't even tell if I was being sarcastic right there or not.

This is from the Internet:

I was helping Mike clean the other night, and I picked up a sock with my foot and threw it perfectly into the hamper.
Me: Woah dude! Did you see that? That was talent.
Mike: Yeah, it's like you're playing soccer.

As in Sock-er.
And he says my puns are terrible.
Maybe I'm just rubbing off on him.

Of Laffy Taffy caliber,
TWS

No Hocus, Just Pocus

Something happened to me today that has never, I'm fairy certain, happened to me before.
I was walking to school today, and someone passed me.
Like- I was walking too slow for someone else.
I watched them go and I was like, "I used to be ambitious like you. I used to want to go to class to learn. I used to want to learn. I used to want things."

(the phrase "used to" is a REALLY dumb phrase right about now)

Ever since my parents left after Honors Day, I've been all depressed, even with taking my vitamin B-6.
I feel like I can't spend time having fun because that's less time that I'll spend working on stuff.
I've completely lost the balance that I used to have down so perfectly.

Mike: I hate when you're all depressed, man.
Me: I know. I need a new outlook.
Mike: Do you want me to install that for you?

I DO need a new outlook, though. I think that would really help.
So now I turn to one of the most fundamental principles in my life.
It's a Barney Stinson quote that is actually part of the foundation for this blog.

*GASP* sauce.

The quote is:
"When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story."

So I'm going to stop being sad and be awesome instead.

Behold the turtle, who makes progress just by sticking out its neck.

Look how HAPPY he is!

36 days,
TWS