Hey, check it out!

It's "Dog Draper"!

Hahaha or like, "Mad Men's best friend!"
HAHAHAHAHA(*wipes tear from eye) Oh gaw!

Wasted Training

When you're in elementary school, you're warned countless times about the perils of drugs and alcohol, and how when you get older, "friends" will inevitably try to pear-pressure you into chemical dependency. Officers would tell you in classrooms. Straight-laced teens would demonstrate it in plays. And health teachers would show you pictures of unusable freeze-dried lungs. That's all it took to scare me straight. By 10 I joined D.A.R.E., memorized PSAs and day-dreamed about how one day I would expertly refuse poppers, pills and all forms of miscellaneous dope. But middle school and high school came and went and not once was I offered, even the mildest, pharmaceutical! I don't know if it was because I didn't look "cool" enough, that the kid's in my neighborhood weren't into drugs, or that maybe I just didn't know where to look. I didn't know where those villains were, but there I was with all that training and no one to use it on. I felt cheated.

It wasn't until I was in university that someone offered me a marijuana cigarette. They asked and I said, "(*chuckle) No thanks!" and that was the end of it. I was tempted to ask if they wanted to know why. It was then I realized the 90s had turned me into a square. It made me make napkin roofie-shields for unattended cocktails, toss out perfectly good Halloween candy and, most lamely, made me never try drugs! For all I know drugs could've been my ticket to a richer life. Or at least, a window to a preferred alternate reality. And now I'll never know. I know you're thinking, "Oh, come now! Your best dope days are ahead of you!" Thanks, but no thanks. I'm in my late twenties. Who'd offer an old bird like me drugs? No, I'd love to "trip", but I'll just sit here content with my tea and judgement. Thanks a lot, Nancy!

Conversations on Betrayal

Me: "Is there anything I could do that would make you not talk to me again?"
Sister: "If you slept with my husband."
Me: "You would stop talking to me if I slept with your husband?!"
Sister: "Yeah!"
Me: "But I'm family!"
Sister: "Maybe after like 6 months."
Me: "I'd let you sleep with my husband. It's not that serious."
Sister: "Is there anything that would make you not talk to me?"
Me: "Like if you killed my daughter."
Sister: "I can see that."
Me: "I wanted to kill my daughter."

(maybe you had to be there..)

REM & Blues

Do you ever have a dream where you write or hear an original song or beat and think, "This is going to be a hit!" And for the rest of your dream you try to memorize it so you can remember it when you wake up? Only to wake up and realize you don't have the skills to turn sounds into music and that the "duh-du-du-du-duh's" you scratched on a sheet of loose leaf won't win you any grammys? Do you then think, "My fortune!" because you KNOW that that could've been your big break?

Me neither. (*balls up paper)

To my secret admiral!

I don't have frequent traffic to my blog, but I do have frequent visitors. Most of them loyal friends who, well, would read any old nonsense I digitype. And I love them! I know all their names, and know where they all live. All except one person. For months now, I've been noticing someone in Malaysia LOVES me! They read my blog, without fail, every week but go without leaving as much as a comment. And I have no idea who they are! As far as I know, I don't know anyone in Malaysia, but I'd like to. And if you would like to make yourself known, I'd like to love you. You haunt my dreams! Who are you? What do you look like? How do you eat a Reeses®? What makes you continue coming here week after week. So this Valentine's Day, I dedicate this post to you, my South-Asian phantom sweetheart. And I'm hoping you're an actual person and not some kinda spy or web-crawler monitoring the content of my posts. And if you're a real person, I hope that this declaration of love quickens you to make yourself known. Because there's nothing to fear except the strength of the love we have for each other. ♥

I'm out this blog!

Sometimes I think I'm fed up with this blogging thing. I don't know what makes me think I should be blogging everyday. I don't know any other blogs that post everyday. And I don't have the traffic that if I skip a day it'd look like I went awol. When I started this blog whenever ago, I told myself that I'd stop if this ever got boring for me. It hasn't quite yet, but I find myself struggling to come up with content everyday. And I don't have to! And I know that this post about me having trouble finding things to write about fills my quota of one post a day. And I know that this isn't the first time I've talked about trouble posting, but I think I'm okay with that. I dunno, I have a couple things to think about. In the meantime, I'll leave you in the care of this responsible looking bear. While I'm gone you may have ONE popsicle from the freezer but only if you don't give the bear any lip. There's nothing scary in his briefcase or anything, but come on, he's a bear. Be cool.

Is this prissy?

I was once called a priss by a friend. It was because I had some grotty $60 couches professionally cleaned as opposed to sitting in someone else's life-crumbs. The same friend later told me that he couldn't believe I threw away my stuff-crust pizza crusts and that he ate them out of my trash while I was out. So now I don't know what to believe! The other day I bought some $4 bread at Trader Joe's. I know what you're thinking. "What business do you have buying 4 buck bread?" Bear with me. I bought the bread because my roommate told me that it was awesome and that it made the most delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sure, right? And it did! Best I've had in a while.

So I'm cleaning up later and I see something in my tied bag of bread. A gnat or little fly was buzzing around the inside of the bag. I panicked! 'Cause I've already eaten that bread! Then I thought, "Wait. Am I flipping out or am I being a priss?" It was just in the front of the bag, so decided I was being prissy. Then I killed the fly (IN THE BAG) and used the slice that it was near to clean up any invisible fly-guts (@_@) and threw the slice away. Who's the priss now, right? But that's when I saw the 2nd fly at the back of the bag. And I threw the whole thing away. And if you think THAT makes me a priss then excuuuuuuuu~se ME! Sorry if I listened in class and germs scare me! I guess I shouldn't tell you I don't smoke drugs either, because something about lungs! Let me know if you want to still be friends. OR WHEN YOU GROW UP!

I just don't get it!

My all-time favorite, Russell Brand, is hosting SNL this week with musical guest Chris Brown. My mind is boggled as to how Chris Brown could still have a career after that non-sense he was involved in before. 'Cause I haven't even touched Rihanna and I haven't moved a single unit!

The cookies are here!

I know I've been pretty lazy with posts lately, but THE COOKIES ARE HERE! Girl Scouts' Cookie Season has finally opened! It's definitely one of my favorite things about being back in America. Seeing those pre-teen dough-dealers on the corners and stocking my cupboards with tasty-no-nos. My purchase record was 9 boxes but after three years away, I think I could top that easy as diabetes!

R.I.P. Guitar Hero

Now I'll never know how to play this song! Do I look like I can read real tabs?

Mushrooms are kinda gross, right?

Are you ready for some foo'bawh?!

The Super Bowl was yesterday. I forgot to watch. (I had other things on my mind.) But I heard that team you _______ won! Sometimes I wish I knew the complete rules to at least one sport so I could be excited about events like this. Or at least so I could get this career in athletic apparel design off the ground. Yeah, that's a pocket. You're welcome. ♥

I am going to get so fun-wasted!

There are some things we will never understand

 My roommate and I started getting into the Shameless-rhythm of tailoring our daily routine to deal with broken things around our home. (Just like TV's poor!) Recently our toilet broke. Not because of *ahem* "volume" but because our house was built in the '40s and our landlord is cheap. For whatever reason, after we'd flush, it would do this constant water-whine until we'd be forced to come back and hold the handle a certain way. It went on for like a month, but recently it looks like it healed itself! We didn't do anything to try and fix it so it's a wonder anything's changed. My guess is that since it's a machine that snacks on dookies, it was probably just a cry for help.

It's that time of year again~!

It's Black History Month in Amerikey. A time to see the strides we have made in race relations in this country by reflecting on the contributions Black people have made to American society. But it is also the time of year non-blax defer to my encyclopedic knowledge of Black-related facts (or "Blaqs"... like faqs?), history and my general "Negro kindness". A post I reluctantly accepted. I'm asked questions like, "Is it safe to cook African-American recipes in the home?", "Do you know Leslie?" and, "Can you play with my dog so he can get used to 'other kinds' of people?" (seriously.) The answer to all those questions being a resounding, "No." So this Black History Month, feel free to ask my anything you'd like to know! And don't be intimidated. I'm one of the nice ones!

Manners

Today I was on the bus and I saw a bus driver that was really rude to me a couple weeks ago. First thing I thought was, "Oh great. It's gorilla c*nt again. G Dammit." and then I thought, "Wow! Where did that come from?" So I forced myself to say thanks after I got of the bus, but I hated myself for it. Still think my mother would be proud though.

Today, in [fake] news!

HEADLINE: "Breaking News: Magneto uncovered in Cairo unrest."

Prayer for Wastefulness

I'm thankful to live in a country where I have the luxury to waste food and water. I have drinking-quality water in my toilet and a trash can full of forgotten meals and slightly sour tangerines. I'm living the dream! Waste is a lifestyle I've grown accustomed to in America, and I don't know any other way. But I am not ungrateful. And because I know that I'm not likely to change my habits, I like to say a little prayer every time I throw away food I know could go into someone else's mouth. It goes a little something like this:


Dear Lord, 
Thank you for the bounty that you have blessed me with and giving me the luxury to throw away this perfectly good bag of potatoes just because it sprouted arms after I forgot about it. I know that I am truly blessed to be given the opportunity to throw away food simply because it grosses me out. And I am thankful that my awareness of this somehow makes it alright. I pray that I will not forget that having abundance means others have less. And I pray as I cast this bag of potatoes into hell that you will continue to bless me with plenty, because I know that my wastefulness is only a sign of Your goodness. My calf is fat and my cup runneth over and into the drain. I'm sorry and I thank You, Amen.