I don’t even know what to say about this…
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Bruno Mars - Marry you
Currently on my Pandora shuffle. Oh god, now I’m getting a Disney hiring advertisement.
I’M NOT IN FLORIDA ANYMORE.
Guys. Guys. Maybe I’m late to this game in getting letters of recommendation, but I just got an electronic copy from my program director and I’m on the verge of tears.
Absolutely beautiful.
I can’t—breathe.
(AND EXHALE.)
What if, for my creative piece, I just turned in a large picture of my current tumblr icon and wrote, “I am a muppet.”
If they decide to interview me and ask what that’s all about, I could just sing, “Am I man? Or am I muppet? If I’m muppet, then I’m a very manly muppet! Very manly muppet!”
Why I love my parents.
I’m applying for a summer job on campus and I told my mom that I have to do some sort of “creative piece” in addition to an essay and my two recommendation letters (which worked out, yay!) So this afternoon she sends me three texts in a row:
- Paul says to draw a horn of plenty and then have snipets all around of sayings or quotes and/or pictures of the things that have made you who you are today. The snipets need to look like they are funneling into the horn (the horn being you).
- Another suggestion is to have you be a vehicle in the bottom left corner and have “tracks” of what you’ve left behind. Paul envisions you as a tank because you are so stubborn!
- Paul also suggests you have yourself as santa claus and in his overflowing bags are the “gift” you have to share with the world. This is his favorite.
Me: I really want to fuck our professor.
Her: Me, too! High five!
[high five]
Her: I think I just want to do it on the principle though.
Me: Oh no, I'm in it to win it.
This morning I got an email that I was sure would never make it to my inbox. So today has become one of those ~I don’t know how I do it~ kind of days. Seriously psyched for all the possibilities of life and all that.
Really though, I wish I could believe in karma or something. It’s simply luck.
Somehow listening to Aaron Carter led to talking about shitty people.
Talking about shitty people led to reading, “Stuff White People Like.” That led to talking about tattoos and how some of them are awesome, but a lot of people just get really bad tattoos, which ya know, led to watching this video…
and googling this photo:
1. Fuck off.
2. They sell these at American Eagle, you dummies.
3. I went to American Eagle on Wednesday night for the first time in, oh, eleven years? All I wanted was a normal hat because it was cold and I lost mine, and I spent six minutes looking at the pile of clearance “bearded” beanies trying to decide if they were worth buying to rip the bearded part off, but then I realized that I would have to live with the fact that I exchanged money for such an item and, frankly, I’d rather have my ears fall off from the cold. So I went to Duane Reade and bought a hat for six dollars like a normal adult.
bizzarome replied to your photo: “…don’t let this go to your head.” LOL I CAN’T.
I’m disturbed that OKCupid’s default for a person is “not attractive”
#damn
Had this really bizarre dream where my house was way bigger than it is now, and some really sketchy people came over when we were throwing a party and they claimed they needed to go to the basement (which was HUMONGOUS) and that our landlord OKed it, and if we didn’t give them any problems, they’d pay us seven thousand bucks. So all my roommates got everybody from the party out and over next door (which was just a backyard deck away) and I stayed behind to see what was happening. When the strange group of people came back upstairs they were laughing maniacally with tons of cash in their hands. At this point I inferred that there was a bunch of cash buried underneath the house that these bitches took from under us, but then the one guy handed me seven slips of paper that promised “One thousand U.S. dollars” to turn in somewhere in exchange for currency.
I stuffed the papers in my pocket and then this guy came over demanding to know what happened and where the money was. “They took it all,” I said. “Now get out of my house.” Then the guy swung a broom stick at my head and I tried to stay conscious for the three seconds before I went down, but I remember trying to stuff the papers down my pants. Then I foggily woke up and saw all these strange prop men placing children’s toys and furniture around, coloring them with crayons and markers and breaking some things to make it all look used. When I was able to get up someone informed me that there was a couple and two children that just needed to stay a week because they were actually homeless but needed to look like they lived here.
Later in my dream “day,” I showed up for a meeting and someone said something to me about how my duties were unnecessary and that I didn’t need to come. I got really offended and then one of my friends said something else that was really offensive. I told him he could “shut the fuck up and let me do my job,” and it started a really intense hostility in the room. Nara was there for some reason and asked if I really meant that, and I started apologizing profusely. Then I started crying and tried to explain how my house got broken into and I was knocked unconscious and the guy I yelled at just kept patting my head and asked if they did anything else to me. I told him no and then he decided he couldn’t forgive me still for being so rude.
When I got back home my roommates asked me if I got the seven thousand dollars or not which I totally forgot about. I felt my pocket and the slips were still in there. I told them they did give it to me, but the guy who knocked me out had taken it. They all just shrugged and I went back to my room, happy that at least through all the nonsense of the day, I secretly had enough money to pay my rent and then some for the year.
