Losing My Faith In Humanity

I went to see Horrible Bosses last night. On the way over, I say to my boyfriend, “Oh no! Harry Potter comes out tonight!” He knows I have issues with Pottermania. I guess I just can’t wrap my head around the notion of waiting for 12 plus hours to see Daniel Radcliff use his wand. And wand isn’t a sexual inuendo there, he’s using a magical wand, and not his dick, which, ironically, can be seen on broadway. I don’t understand why these kids don’t just wait until the next day to see the movie? And also, you’re all pretty young, most of of you under 16, seeing as the parking lot is mostly empty, meaning your parents dropped you off.  So now we have a group of unsupervised, cape-wearing pre-teens? And many are girls. With their high pitched voices. Kill me.

But our movie was early, boyfriend reminded me. An 8:45-er. We’re saved, right? WRONG. The view as we pull in:

And inside:

and on our way out:

Note the news truck. Apparently, this is news. Clearly, Rupert Murdoch really did need to voicemail hack in order to compete with this.

As we paid for our movie, I asked the ticket-seller how his night was going. He looked around and muttered “I hate these fucking people.”

My thoughts exactly.

That’s Not Helpful At All.

I recently told a friend that I was feeling very stressed out. So stressed, in fact, that I was losing sleep. To counteract my bout of insomnia, I’ve taken to watching TV as late as possible, turning it off only when my eyes are about to close. Otherwise, my brain pulls into overdrive and I have to eat ice cream to slow it down, which would be fine except that I am allergic.

Anywho, his response to my struggles with the night?

“Have you considered buying a noise CD, like with noises of the ocean and stuff?”

“No, I have not,” I replied, in bewilderment. I thought maybe he would want to talk about my stress, but okay…noise CD. That’s going to be his approach. You know, I, being female, probably would have gone somewhere else, but it’s a creative approach, I’ll give him that. I decided to see how far we could go with it.

“You know,” I said, “I just don’t think I could fall asleep to a noise CD. It just sounds like static to my untrained ear.”

“Haven’t you ever fallen asleep on a beach?” he responds, not to be thrown off.

“Well, yes,” I recede. “But it’s just so loud on a recording. Not very soothing. It sounds so automated.”

He’s silent for a moment, as he considers this. Then, he comes out with his big winner:

“Jungle CDs! They make jungle CDs too!”

Thank you. That’s very…thoughtful. I’m sure listening to monkeys yelp their mating call will really lure me into a soft and nurturing nap.

Later, I texted my friends, one of which runs a website called ShitMyBoyfriendSays. The other, my best friend from college, recently single after a year and a half relationship, texts me back instantly. I can almost here her sighing from her cubicle as she types into her iphone:

Of course, I would never really beat him. 1. Because I just got my nails done and 2. Because being like Chris Brown is soooo 2005. And also because I love him. But I love her response too.

Talking to a male friend later, I recount the same troubles.

“I can’t sleep!” I cry. “My brain is like Fox News whenever there’s an election: overanlyazing incorrect facts for hours!”

I see him typing on facebook chat for a few moments before his response comes:

“Have you tried like, a wave CD? Or white noise?”

Eff it.

My Messy Room

I am the most unclean person you’ve ever met.

I HATE cleaning. I think it’s the most horrible thing ever. Seriously, who wants to waste their time picking up crap off the ground and putting it away? At least if it’s on the ground, I can see it so I won’t lose it. The stuff I put on shelves and in my closest? It’ll be months before I remember where I put it.

Plus, I’m super busy. Like, some days, I don’t even have time for a nap. Trust me, those are the worst days. So when I do have free time, why would I want to waste it doing horrid things like cleaning the bathroom or wiping the dust off my night stand?

But, recently, my messiness got out of control. My roommate, who God bless her soul typically looks the other way as long as the door to my room is shut so she cannot sense the mess, told me it was time to clean my room. Or actually, she demanded it: “Maggie. Clean your room. It’s gross.”

So, starting early this morning, I began the trek through the room. At first, it was difficult because there was very little room to move around, due to the fact that my closet had exploded onto my floor. In addition, my bed is obviously in my bedroom, and it was trying to seduce me with its soft covers to give up cleaning and instead, cuddle inside it. I tried to resist, but eventually caved. Three times.

But three naps later, I was energized and ready to clean. To prevent the bed from luring me back, I just piled everything in my room on top of my bed. This was the ultimate motivation because if I didn’t put it away, I’d have no bed to sleep in at night. Torture.

So, I did three loads of laundry. Turns out I haven’t done laundry in almost a month. My roommate and my parents are unsure of how I have collected enough clothing/undergarments to last that long. I assure you I never double dipped, I just have a large collection. Of course, since it had been so long, the cute panties were long gone and instead, I was using the ones that you keep even though they’re really ugly and you’d never let a soul, friend or otherwise, see you in them. Don’t act like you don’t have those too.

After laundry, I vacuumed. I really like to vacuum, especially with the hose. Especially in the bathroom. As a girl with long hair, I shed a lot and there’s nothing better then seeing the vacuum suck it up. It’s just a satisfying feeling. Like when you mow the lawn or shovel the driveway: it’s like, look what I have done! I’m productive!

Three hours, a bag of trash, three loads of laundry, 16 lysol wipes, and about 20 sprays of windex, my room is clean. It even smells clean, which is important because my roommate doesn’t want to look in my room unless she knows its clean (the mess really freaks her out), so I have a feeling that the lemon scent of clean will tickler her nose until she finally wanders in to compliment me on my amazing cleaning skills. 

The tragic thing is, I’m well aware that my room’s going to be a giant mess again in a few weeks. Which although frustrating, is probably a good thing. Now that my room’s spotless, I can’t find anything.

On a sidenote, I’d like to apologize to my faithful readers (hi mom!) for my absence as of late. With a frat, a full class schedule, a job, and training, I’m super busy and when I do have a few extra minutes, I’m too tired to be witty. But, stay tuned for some Costa Rica blogging next week. Two grown men, a barely out of teenagerhood girl, and barely a lick of Spanish, it’s bound to be jolly!

My Writer’s Block

The problem with being as exceptionally witty as me is that there’s pressure to stay on top. 

I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, twiddling my thumbs, trying to discover something worth giving my important and sarcastic thoughts about. I thought about writing about my obsession with cakes or the fact that I haven’t watched a superbowl in seven years. I’ve been called unamerican for my refusal to waste 4 hours of my life viewing a football game, but as I am 1/32 Native American (Cherokee Tribe, thank you very much), I’m more American than many of the fools sporting their faux jerseys while stuffing their beer bellies with McDonald’s newly offerred fifty piece chicken nugget meal.

I thought about writing about Sorority Rush, but that topic is so truly ridiculous that I need more than just a few minutes to give me thoughts on it. I even got so bold as to think about just mocking some truly poorly written blogs on the interwebs (have you ever hit up cakewrecks.com? I’ve never so badly wanted someone to just post pictures and stop commenting. Her words literally make my stomach hurt).

Anywhos, I’m going to use the next few days to think of some truly beautiful things to write about and I also encourage you to text/fax/email/call/bat signal me up some ideas. Thanks in advance. Stay gorgeous Mid-Michigan.

My First Week

The first week of the semester is always pretty rough. There’s new schedules, a new bus route, a new wake up time, and lots of scary professors that look down at you from their giant podiums and declare war against you.

I say war because regardless of what kind of face you put on a teacher, if they hand out a piece of paper with tests on in and large amounts of homework that put a wrench in your weekend plans and cause you to lose sleep, then it’s war. Sure, sometimes it’s a bit less difficult, more of a congress-authorized military engagement, but no matter how you spin it, it’s a battle.

Much like in war, there are moments, perhaps when the game plans are being explained or everyone’s taking the afternoon off to watch a new season of the Office, when silence is expected. I’ve never been very good at those though moments though. I like a bit of chatter. In fact, in one of my classes this week, I thought it would be a good time to go ahead and catch up with an old high school chum. But of course, the professor, likely a blood relative of Benito Mussolini, did not appreciate that. He went ahead and stopped the lecture and asked me and S to stop talking. In front of 700 kids. Via his microphone. So much for keeping a low profile.

Like soldiers, I also have to learn the fastest modes of transportation. For a huge campus like Michigan State, that means the CATA. My roommate (platoon member, if you will) drew out a bus schedule for me and told me where to go, when to get on, and when to get off. I departed class and thought I followed her directions. But instead I managed to take the wrong bus. Twice. In a row. It took me an hour to get home. I’d be ashamed of this if I didn’t find it so ridiculously pathetic that it’s just funny.

I was enrolled in five classes, but I dropped one because I felt that the 4:10 to 5:30 time frame was interfering with my nap schedule. I think it’s important to keep my priorities in order, no matter how intense life gets.

The next few months of battle are undoubtedly going to be difficult. But at least I have this glorious blog to express my deep and important thoughts. I appreciate your future camaraderie.