Shoots and Ladders

Nerves are trying to get the best of me as I am currently immersed in the final hours leading up to my GRE exam. I keep trying to tell myself that the end is near, and soon all of this mind-boggling information can escape from my memory. 

In an attempt to quell the snakes of tension which are currently slithering around in my stomach I called one of my friends this morning to distract me. She had the pleasure of knowing me in high school during a time where I constantly had to sneak out to see friends or go get Jack in the Box curly fries. I will spare you the sob story of an overprotective set of parents; however I do understand to a degree not wanting your teenager to eat curly fries... they are after all the devil. 

Most of the time I was able to outlast my mother’s bedtime and I would sneak downstairs, climb through dog doors and run across a poop filled back yard where I treated each mound of shit as a land mine. Once I arrived at my car I would put it in neutral, roll it out of the driveway, and use, if necessary, my poop cleaning kit.

Some nights mom would burn the midnight oil. Being that I was on the second story I had to get creative with tactics of escape; fire escape ladders, trying to tie sheets together (this does NOT work), a rope and climbing gloves, one time even just jumping from the second story window onto the concrete driveway where I thought I had broken my legs…

Today on the phone I was reminded of one such time where creativity was not my best. I had been dating a boyfriend with a very similar last name as mine. To spare the embarrassment I will not state that last name here. Our last names were not identical it was as if my last name was Thompson and his last name was Thympsan. He kindly brought over his father’s ladder so that I could climb down to safety and attend a soirée of sorts. When I arrived back home I had forgotten that we left the ladder positioned below my bedroom window, and I climbed in through my regular route the dog doors.

I awoke the next morning to screaming. I went downstairs to determine what the ruckus was and my father began questioning me about the ladder. I was still half asleep so my reasoning was a mumbling of “gee, I am not sure whose ladder that could be.” I was dragged outside and affronted with the vision of the ladder propped up against the side of the house. I then caught the word “Thympsan” sloppily written across the side of it.'Shoot,' I thought.

Me: Dad, that is your ladder- see you wrote your name on it

Dad: That is NOT my name!

Me: Yes it is; you always did have poor penmanship.

I saw the look of confusion and bewilderment flash across my dad’s face as I turned on my heel and went back upstairs to “sleep,” where I worried the rest of the day that I had been discovered. 

Eventually I did come clean about this incident, along with all of the others. I got caught sneaking out finally about six months later when I was 17, and already in college. My mom told me if she caught me again I would have to move out. She also finally gave me a curfew and allowed me out of the house for reasons other than my full time job or attending college classes. I moved out a few days before my 18^th birthday. The rest is history... But I do know my dad still has "Mr. Thympsan's" ladder...

photo credit: cartoonstock.com

Sandwichizing

Me: I need to come up with a new word for this thing I realized I do today.

Justin: uhhmm (trying his hardest to ignore me.)

Me: Like, I can't possibly be the only one that does this thing. So I need to coin a word for it.

Justin: Okay, what are you talking about?

Me: You know how sometimes you feel really ambitious, and you decide to do a youtube work out video?

Justin: No?

Me: And then instead of doing the exercises, half way through you quit and eat your Quiznos sandwich. Then you start talking to the people working out and you're like 'hey mister, I bet you wish you had a sandwich!' The harder they work out, the harder you want to eat.

Justin: You are the only one that does that. And you are weird. But I love you.

I do not agree that I am the single solitary person that does this. Maybe I should call it sandwichizing. or exerwiching... but then Harry Potter fans might think that I am trying to exorcise the magic out of the witch or wizard like an exorcism; and that is the last thing I want people to think because then there will inevitably be a Voldemort 2. 

feastercizing, exerfeast, foodacize... no...

A Twist of Fate, Farm of Cake

Today was weird. I have been devotedly preparing for my GRE examination which was scheduled originally for today. I received an email yesterday, less than twenty-four hours prior to the start of my exam, stating that the testing facility I was supposed to complete the exam at was under construction. It was noted in the email that despite noise-cancelling headphones and foam earplugs being provided that the noise would still be disruptive. They gave me the option to call the test proctoring company and reschedule at a different facility since they would be under construction until February 2015. So long story short- six phone calls, a shit ton of crying and being angry, and a few hours later I am now scheduled to take the exam in Oregon next week... three hours away from home. 

I booked a hotel and read reviews about the town I will be staying in. Apparently women there get cat called a lot and should not go out after dark alone so Justin will be making the trip with me since despite my best efforts to become more manly; I have failed miserably. 

To get my mind off from the whole situation I decided to run a few errands this morning. I don't want to give many details on what I am about to divulge because the perpetrator is at large, and last I saw looked like they would cut me. Anyway I witnessed a terrible car accident where a maniac, possibly drunk, definitely has a meth lab in their basement, person clipped the front end of another person's vehicle. I seriously have to be cryptic as shit because I gave a witness statement to the police officer in favor of the innocent party (since they were, after all, innocent). I am quite sure at any moment the police will be here to swear me into the witness protection program. I hope I can go live at a cake farm because those are real, or at least they could be. And I bet cake farms don't have the GRE.

After doing my civic duty I decided to get some lunch because I am an emotional eater. I went to Quiznos, ordered my sandwich and waited for my turn to pay. At last I was next in line for the register when the person in front of me came up short $8.39. 'What on earth would society do with out me?' I wondered as I handed over the cash to save the woman in her embarrassing moment. Anyway, it was then that I came to the realization that of course I was not supposed to take the GRE today because society needed me today. Fate intervened so I could be in the right place at the right time in two different instances today. Now I get to go live on a cake farm! 

So I googled cake farm and I instead found a farm cake. I will accept this as payment from the universe in lieu of going to live on a cake farm (I know, I am so unbelievably nice). However I will need to have a narwhal on top of that cake too. In fact, just remove the silo and replace it with a narwhal. Yes.

I Dream of Genie

I was certainly throttled by yesterday’s news of Robin Williams’ passing. I could never come close to the homage that has been paid by prominent individuals of our society however I wouldn’t feel quite right if I remained silent in this time; if there is such a thing as a taciturn blog writer. 

Evan Rachel Wood        ✔ @evanrachelwood Follow

Genie. You're free.

5:56 PM - 11 Aug 2014

In remembrance of the comedic light-hearted genius Justin and I watched “Hook” and “Aladdin” last night. I was transported back to childhood times when life was far simpler and GRE was just some unfamiliar acronym that did not consume all of my time and brain power. 

For your enjoyment I have attached some photos of me sporting my Jasmine costume with the fierce passion that only a 9 or 10 year old student of jazz could possess. Please excuse the grainy nature of the photos as it took extensive digging to unearth them. I don't possess the smallest of desires to scan them into the computer so alas, you are stuck with phone-taken pictures of pictures. 

Perfect form if I do say so myself. That is head-to-toe dancing right there. 

It should be noted that despite the standing ovation I can vividly recollect at the conclusion of my dance number I opted not to continue with dance after this performance. It just would have been unfair to compare my unbridled talent with that of other dancers. 

Just look at that panache.

But perhaps tonight, in loving memory of the Genie, I shall reprise my role as said student of jazz as I dance one last night to the steps of  “Friend Like Me.”

Are you not impressed???

 Or maybe not.. since I doubt that my apartment is big enough to do a cartwheel without kicking over Justin or an appliance of some sort. 

There's No Lou Diamond Phillips in Baseball... Or is there?

So this evening after boggling my mind with yet more GRE preparation I emerged from the bedroom to find Justin (unsurprisingly so) watching a Mariners game. They kept showing this man who was being inducted into some kind of baseball coaches hall of fame type thing. He was throwing fits and yelling at people in the old clips they showed which was at least entertaining. This is opposite of what boring baseball usually is so I understand why he gets rewards and shit. Anyway Justin had mentioned his name but it went in one ear out the other one (despite my being deaf in one ear-usually fun facts stay in my noggin.) I attribute this lack of retaining to the GRE or possibly my hearing is coming to that ear because I'm awesome. Back to the issue at hand... On the television screen it showed the word "Lou" on the baseball diamond. Then the following exchange happened between Justin and me:

Me: Lou Diamond Phillips. 

Justin: Where?

Me: on the tv they are honoring him they wrote Lou on the diamond which obviously means Lou Diamond Phillips. 

Justin: No, that is for the guy I JUST told you about. How could you get that mixed up?

Me: What do you think when you hear Lou Diamond?

Justin: Not Phillips. 

I begin plotting and allow about 5-10 minutes to pass. 

Me: want to play a game?

Justin: let me guess, what kind of woman or girl I am? You can try to play tricks on me but I know you so well. (He was referring to those "which Disney Princess am I" type online quizzes I make him take incessantly)

Me: no we are gonna play a game where I'm going to say a word and you will tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Don't think, just speak. 

Justin: okay. 

Below is the transcribed version of our psychological game. The first word(s) is what I read to Justin. The word after the dash was Justin's immediate response. 

House-Full

Paper towel-House

Yellow-brick road

Elephant-titis

Seattle-mariners

Coconut-water

Harry potter-glasses

Orange-juice

Tree-hugger

Money-grabber

Malina-most wonderful girl in the world. 

Big-butt

Lou Diamond-philli....fuuuccckk

Ya that's right! I'm not crazy :)

This is not a real post ... But French Girls is awesome

There is this app I recently learned of called "French Girls." 

Essentially you take a photo and then wait for someone to draw their interpretation of what they see when they look at your photo. Anyway I don't take selfies but I wanted to draw so I took a bogus photo of a Buddha figure in my room so I could draw a million pictures of peoples' pets. That is what I have been doing for the past few hours because It is much more important than GRE prep for my exam on the 14th. 

Here is my favorite that I have seen...

And here are some of the ones I've done that are horrible. Check it out if you are bored, or if you are so overwhelmed by the million tasks you should e completing that you need something other than berry flavored Oreos to help keep your sanity. 

They Should Invent a Machine that Automatically Cleans Dishes

Last night Justin came up with this brilliant idea. He said that someone should invent a machine that automatically cleans dishes. I looked at the back of his head (since he was finishing up dishes) and saw the light turn on. He turned to me and exclaimed, “And don’t tell me about a dishwasher!” He then stormed off in a fake mad kind of way, his big butt bouncing behind him. At least he realized, without my having to tell him, that such a machine was invented over a century ago. 

When he came back into the room he asked me if I had heard of an electronic fly swatter. After he explained what it was he said; “yeah today at work I got shocked by one.”

Me: “You got shocked by the fly swatter? How?”

Justin: “A fly landed on it and nothing happened so I touched it.”

This explains a lot. They should really put a recall on those electronic fly swatters because apparently they cause amnesia in some. Or maybe they can just use those in operating rooms and like beat people over the head with them when they need surgery. Such innovating ideas I have.