I do way too much.

It's the truth.  I spend my "easy" day (Friday) running around campus putting up posters, running around with a beagle, and then getting on all fours to scrub the kennel floor of stupid tape adhesive from Open House.  I spent my "easy" day literally on my feet until 6 o'clock at night,  at which point I sat down, locked my door, and refused to do anything but read.

...Only to make part of a costume for a friend at 10:30.  Yeah, I just don't stop.  I don't mind- I don't think I'd be the same person if my life weren't so crazy.

Have you ever heard the phrase "running around like a chicken with its head cut off"?  Well I have.  Because it describes my normal day.  Here is the origin of that particularly juicy phrase:

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Like a chicken with its head cut off

Meaning

In a frenzied manner.

Origin

Poultry may sometimes run around frenziedly for several minutes after decapitation.

The phrase was known in the USA by the late 19th century. It is recorded in print being used as a simile from the 1880s; for example, this piece about an escaped prisoner in The Atlanta Constitution, July 1882:

 

"Finding himself free from the heavy shackles, he bounced to his feet and commenced darting about like a chicken with its head cut off..."

Well that was enlightening for all.  How gross is that?  Running around like a decapitated chicken?  How come they can still play after losing their heads.  Chickens must really piss off the Red Queen.

Moving on.  So I'm a busy person, we've already addressed that.  If you need something done, ask the busiest person you know- because they are the person getting things done.

But for the love of all that is furry- STOP ASKING ME.

I could say that "I have a life" in my rebuttal: but all in attendance know for a fact that it's simply not true.  I have a hectic frenzied life pleasing other people.  Strange, since I profess to hate the human life around me.

Let's not consider that now, it's too confusing.

So what have I been doing?  Lets consult the planner- full of my commitments and blog thoughts.  I had quite the eventful week...to me at least. Don't judge.

So I had two tests on Monday, plus 2 hours of beagle training, plus a candy apple program at 7 pm.

I made a Jack-O- Lantern Apple because I'm awesome.  That is all.

Marshmallows and Chocolate sprinkles

Reese's Pieces and Chocolate Chips

So that was fun.  I played the Lion King Broadway Soundtrack and blew the other girls out of the water with my singing.  Reference my earlier posts- I DOMINATE AT SINGING THE LION KING.

Tuesday I just had a crapload of classes, and I finally got to do my speech in Public Speaking.  I got an A.  He (my teacher) said it sounded nice and rehearsed.  OH GOSH- I WONDER WHY?  Maybe it had something to do with having almost 4 weeks to work on it because you kept letting people talk for 25 minutes when it was supposed to be a 4-5 minute speech.

Wednesday was supposed to be easy too, but I can't really remember why it wasn't. Oh right.  That whole not being able to take a nap that I've been looking forward to all week thing.  That was obnoxious.  I also had a Hall Meeting and Rounds that night.  Fun fun.

After rounds I woke up remembering homework I had to do for mythology.  I started to do it and was told on Facebook that I in fact, was WRONG, and it really was due Tuesday.  After that I couldn't fall back asleep.  A lack of sleep just does wonders for my already tepid personality.

Thursday was busy and I went to a friends program where I got practically punched in the face and flour thrown into my eyes.  Don't ask.  My right eye is still all puffy and red from it, and everyone keeps asking if I'm high.  Please see earlier post "I HATE POTHEADS".  Seriously.  You couldn't pay me to get high.

Also, on Thursday, my Criminology teacher admitted to assigning us random grades for midterm.  Get this- he doesn't want to look bad because he hasn't given us any graded work, so he had to give random grades to everyone. So some people have C's all the way down to F's for no good reason.  And he sees nothing wrong with that. MY BRAIN CELLS ARE DYING FROM THE STUPID.   How does anyone think that that's ok?  It's not my problem you just want to show movies in class!  But I get an A- for no reason.

I know, an A- is not a bad grade.  But I can only get two a semester to maintain my scholarship- so one FOR NO GOOD REASON kind of upsets me.  Just a little bit.  Like- I want to punch a wall a little bit.

That and financial aid finally paid me my check that day.  Not through the direct deposit they say is mandatory because they have all the forms they made me fill out and they COULDN'T possibly give me a check, but through a check sitting in my mailbox.

I will never ever ever understand why my life screws with me like this.

And then we get to Friday.

TGIF.  Right.  About that, it should really be TGIS- because I don't get a break until Saturday.

You already know about my Friday.  I did a whole bunch of crap blah blah.  But I also agreed to clicker train a cage of lab rats over winter break and come back and guest lecture to the lab animal class about lab animal enrichment and training.  Which is actually pretty exciting.  But they also need people to foster more animals.  So I emailed home and asked my mom if she'd mind an extra cage of rats in the house or a guinea pig or....and her response was "The More the Merrier".  She's just as bad as I am with the business, none of it phases her.

So I can't sleep Friday night, wake up today, go to a crappy brunch, hope to do laundry, find out all my girls stayed for friggen midnight madness so I am pretty much shut out of the laundry room, and I proceeded to make posters for the kitchen.

....and that brings us to this moment in time, as I write about my pitiful life and listen to Pandora, which wants to play unnecessary depressing music.












Woo go LIFE.

I apparently wake up every morning, go the mirror, and assert that "Today I am NOT a Bitch"

And who knows if it works.  I try my damnedest not to be a bitch outwardly, but it only has about a 45% success rate.

I also like to pull statistics out of you know where.....about 98.6% of the time.

So I had someone piss me off today, and I had to go bitch.  But first I had to hold it in through my first round of duty  (a word which I STILL can't say to my boyfriend without him sniggering and saying "you said doody!)....

...and then who do I meet up with but my favorite neighborhood pseudo-stalker!

So I'm explaining to him what happened and how I tried to be nice because I'm really not a bitch...

...and he laughed at me.  Well that's just wonderful.

Care to elaborate, my dearest stalker friend?

Apparently I am a bitch.

Gee, thanks.

Also, I look in the mirror, every morning, square myself directly in the center, make eye contact with my mirror image, and repeat "I am NOT a Bitch" until it sinks in.

............according to my stalker friend.  No names on the blog of course.  Eventually I'll dedicate a whole post to his stalker-ism and he damn well better feel appreciated.

BUT THIS ISN'T ABOUT HIM.

The point is, if you don't want to end up in my blog, don't piss me off.  This is where all my feelings go that I won't necessarily say out loud, but still need to be said.

Not that my blog is inappropriate.  It's just that as my thoughts gather, ferment, spoil, boil over and otherwise ruin my life, I have to find a place to put them.  Hence the blog.

Anyways.  I really do try hard not to be a bitch.  My Law teacher has this saying, to justify his making fun of all of us lowly students
"For every comment I say, I throw 4 worse ones away"

It's a true story.  I mean, I'll be honest, sometimes I throw nothing away.  But I've really gotten much better at filtering and otherwise reigning in my mental commentary. Really.

I don't even post everything I want to say.  I try to be a decent person, but sometimes the people I'm around make it so hard.  

I just got through my mini-freak out with the aid of The Lion King.  I sing it whenever I'm upset.  If I'm singing to the Lion King, leave me alone.  And don't join in.  Just...don't.

Just walk away.

So if I'm singing "Shadowland", GTFO.  I don't want you near me, I am THIS CLOSE to mental breakdown, and I need a break from all stupid human contact.

If I'm singing "Endless Night" I'm getting better.  My favorite quote is in that song.  It's a strangely optimistic quote for such a pessimistic person.  Kudos if you know me well enough to know it.  

If I'm singing "Circle of Life" I'm pretty much ok, but still not enough where you should disturb me unless you are bleeding from a major artery.  Like, a major one.  I mean it. 

.........Like, out of your throat or some crap like that.

If I'm singing something else, I'm just coming down, de-stressing: call it what you want.  It is now safe to approach me slowly, head on (where I can see you), and averting eye contact.  

Except for this song, this is still not good news.

If I've stopped singing loudly and you can't hear me stomping around my room anymore: Crisis is over.  You are clear.

I am NOT a bitch, I am NOT a bitch, I am NOT a bitch, I am NOT a bitch, I am NOT a bitch, I am NOT a bitch...

I need 11 page-views to get 1000- Which means I'm either actually funny, or the world has no life.

And when I say the world, I mean it....
These are the stats for audience for this very blog:

United States

924

Russia

11

Canada

8

Mexico

8

Germany

7

United Kingdom

4

Saint Kitts and Nevis

4

Slovakia

3

Latvia

2

Portugal

Who the hell is reading my blog in SLOVAKIA? ) Because I don't see how my life is entertaining to you.  But then again, painful awkwardness is funny to everyone.  Isn't that the basis of comedy, enjoying someone else's pain?


I'm not writing this from the glorious intellectual thinkpot that is Becker College, as I went home for the long weekend.  Boy was it worth it.  Firstly, if I'd stayed at Becker I might have died.  They were doing construction and took out the cable.  I don't think I could survive a boring weekend at Becker without cable, nevermind a LONG boring weekend at Becker. It just wasn't going to happen. And it would have resulted in spontaneous death, as mentioned before.  


Unfortunately, since I'm not writing from Becker, I'm at a shortage of writing material.  Usually I write a post after a particularly funny/embarrassing/horrible/angering moment that occurs at the aforementioned school.  Butttttt I'm home, so that's not going to work.  


Since I've been home I've:


-Eaten decent food
-Slept until I actually felt refreshed
-Cuddled with all of my dogs
-Gotten bitten by my evil rabbit (awww)
-Driven myself to the bank as there are CARS at home.  Cool concept, that is really.
-Gone Shopping
                          ...AND BEEN SUCCESSFUL.


The kicker with that is that I like to shop, but I really hate it.  


Confusing?  Yes I know.  So are sizes when you can be anything from a Sm-Lg or a 4 to a 9.  Really?  I wish I could walk into a store and be like: "I'M A SIZE JENNY DAMMIT."  And then they would get me things that fit and were comfortable and flattering and within my price range and in colors that I like.


But the world is not like that.


Returning to my original comment.  My love/hate relationship with shopping is completely dependent on just HOW BAD I need the things I am shopping for.


For Example:
Situation A:  I need nothing.  I try on stuff anyway.  I mean, I'm there.  Everything fits and is cheap and pretty.  YAY.




Situation B:  I need AT LEAST two pairs of jeans.  I can't find any.  There are no sales.  Nothing is in my size.  They all of ridiculous things on the back pocket (like what am I...9 years old? NO I DON'T WANT GLITTER).  I find some, only to realize that they were pt on the sale rack by mistake.  Just wonderful.  
FML.


So clearly, I love shopping when there is absolutely no pressure to actually buy anything.  I buy stuff anyways.  It's completely frivolous and I really shouldn't, but I enjoy it anyways.


But when I look for jeans, or swimsuits, or HEAVEN FORBID, bras.....it's like the entire world is working against me.  A CONSPIRACY TO KEEP ME JEAN-LESS.


One, I can't stand jean shopping.  Especially with my skinny sisters.  Literally, when I'm shopping with them I picture a funhouse mirror.  Those kinds that make you seem huge?  And there are those that make you seem skinny?  Guess who's the huge one.  Ugh.  Shopping.  


But today was different.  I wanted a pair of flats and at least one pair of jeans.


And oh hey- It worked.  I have a pair of jeans, a pair of flats, two new necklaces, and some cute earrings.  


TAKE THAT!  I will have cute clothing dammit!  Not that I'll ever wear anything above and beyond.  You can't get me out of jeans and a T-Shirt, but I can switch out my flip flops for flats.  That's ok.


Remember now,
11 page-views.  



And you know, a comment or two wouldn't hurt either. You're all lazy.




OH WAIT.  I forgot a picture, I always give a picture.....Hold on.





And...

















Here you go:

\Te he.  This makes me giggle. 

As my health decreases, so does my tolerance. Watch out.

So it's not Mono, or Strep Throat.  It's just painful as all hell to eat, breath, swallow, talk, or just generally function. Wonderful right?  Ugh.

But I've been quite touchy today.  Not gonna lie.  I know, I blow up on a normal day.  But today my fuse is shorter, mostly because I'm in pain.

Pain does a wonderful  TERRIBLE thing for my temper.

Well.  Let's just say I didn't do too well today in Criminology.  I was seething.  I cannot stand my brain cells dying anymore.  I don't want to watch anymore movies.  How much am I paying per credit?  I don't want to think about that.

I don't want tangents, I don't want examples, I don't want jokes, I just want to get through the hour and 15 minute class without wanting to bang my head against the desk.  IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!

It just kills me because I know Criminology can be interesting.  And it's killing me to sit through the class.  I am not seeing a coherent point to the class yet.  I guess you could say I'm really disappointed because I thought it was going to be an awesome class.

There were other instances where my anger was just bubbling away under the surface: but I've decided to spare you the details.
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So my life.  It's been normal yet interesting.  I got a perfect score on my Law exam.  Boo Yah!  Of course, I knew I would.  My little brother is home-schooled and I had taught him the material covered in that test over the summer.  So you could say I studied for that test all summer.  Anything less than perfect would have been embarrassing, quite frankly.

Annoying chick (in Law Class, see other posts) is still annoying, but the professor has caught on and does attempt to keep her at a dull roar now.  Thankkkk gosh.  She really needs a filter.

I played UNO with the girls last Tuesday.  Like, a week ago, I know.  But I haven't had time to write about it.

So we're playing UNO, and one of my residents keeps skipping over me and making me draw 2 and all that crap.  So I'm a little miffed.  After 3 or 4 consecutive missed turns, I started to get a little antsy.  I wanted to be a little vindictive.  But see, here's the thing.  In UNO, you can't just go and reverse the direction of play unless someone puts a "reverse" card down.  Soooo, obviously this is what I needed to enact my revenge.  In my excited state I shouted out,

"REVERSE THIS BITCH SO I CAN NAIL HER!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ahem.   I know, it's not very well thought out.  "This Bitch" refers to the game of UNO.  "Her" refers to my crafty resident that was beating my ass in UNO.  And "Nail Her" refers to calculated revenge involving skips and drawing of cards: ensuring her loss.

But that is not what came out.
So I guess the joke is now...."REVERSE THIS BITCH SO I CAN NAIL HER!"

That's ok, the same girl later in this game said

"I hugged a midget"

We were talking about baby goats and their cuteness. So really, the phrase was....
"I hugged a midget..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Goat."

And yeah, the pause was that long.

What else?

Oh.  Me and my "friend" (a term used loosely, even though everyone puts up with his antics) have a bad habit of matching.

Not quite as lame as these people, but close.  

It was really bad at a football game in the beginning of the season.  I had put on a nice teal/turquoise tank top and looked pretty good.

He shows up in the EXACT SAME COLOR.  No joke.  It was beyond weird.  I mean, what guy wears turquoise?

So it's now a running joke that we match all the time.  Today we were both wearing our RA hoodies, which isn't an uncommon occurrence, but had to be pointed out because of the previous matching experience.

You ever notice how these whole running jokes and inside jokes come with being social?  There's so much to maintain.  It's exhausting.


Especially when I'm in pain.


I'm running out of fuel here....

Over and out.

Marching Band is NOT lame! But YOU...that's another story.

Sometimes I wonder how the marching band stereotype still exists when over and over again it is proven to be awesome.

AWESOME.

Why is everyone surprised that marching band competes?  Why do they all make fun of halftime...........when secretly they know they enjoy the show.

Because these people have all had their balls removed by the concept of SPORTS and FOOTBALL.

But why is band placed below these concepts?
I mean, let's see what is involved in sports...

Competition
Teamwork
Uniforms
Practices
Talent
Skill
Fans

Now let's see what's involved in football...

Competition
Teamwork
Uniforms
Practices
Talent
Skill
Fans
...and men clad in spandex rolling around with each-other in the mud.

This apparently, is totally normal.  

Well then.  Lets see what is involved in Marching Band...

Competition
Teamwork
Uniforms
Practices
Talent
Skill
Fans
and a healthy dose of AWESOME.

Whoa.  Wait.  Then, could it be concluded...that...quite possibly...marching band could be considered a sport?

The world is not ready for such a concept.  Despite the numerous attempts by chick flicks to prove that yes, the band geek is the nicer guy, and NO, the jock will never stop being a jerk, the world is simply not ready to accept that band could possibly be cool.

Just because the world can't, it doesn't mean a small community won't.

Let us discuss...
Competition:  Bands compete in parades and halftime show drills.  Not only are these entertaining to watch, but they are rife with rivalries that makes the Red Sox/Yankees look tame.

Teamwork:  Have YOU ever tried to make a picture out of people?  Does it work when only you are doing it? NO.  Marching band requires teamwork, because for it to work, everyone has got to do their very best.  Marching bands have made tetris shows, sank the titanic, created a running football player and quite often spell out the name of their school, all while playing and marching.

Uniforms:  My high school band just got new uniforms, and they are spiffy.  There is nothing quite like seeing a regimented marching band in uniform performing.  They look like a single entity and can be quite intimidating.

Practices:  Have you ever heard of "Band Camp"?  Yeah.  Throw out everything you think it is.  Band camp is grueling hard work in the heat, so that the band can win the competitions for the year and put on a damn good show.  So basically, for all you non-believers.........Band Camp=Your Worst Nightmare.  You wouldn't last two days.

Talent/Skill: Every band has a prodigy player that just blows everyone out of the water.  But the whole band has to have the skills necessary to win. Feet, Posture, Horn Angles everyone!

Fans:  In torrington, the stands would fill up for halftime and clear out after.  Why?  Because the marching band had groupies.  No lie.  We were, and still are, loved by many for our....

AWESOMENESS:  the last one.  You can't touch marching band.  It's loud.  It's powerful.  It's full of decent people that belong to every part of the school imaginable, INCLUDING THE FOOTBALL TEAM.  They don't subscribe to stereotypes, because when you're in the band, YOU'RE IN THE BAND.

And that's an awesome place to be.  
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I am a little biased.  I was in band for most of my life.  I started playing french horn in the 4th grade.  I was told I would have to start on Trumpet, and I didn't like that too much.  I started on french horn, because that's the only way.

My mom played french horn in high school, and I was going to play clarinet until I actually played her french horn.  I learned a C scale before I even got to school.  I loved it.  I was a one-woman section, playing an instrument a lot of the band hadn't even heard of.  The thing, in the 4th grade, was practically bigger than me.    

I took pride in telling people that I could carry it by myself.  I could.  I was super proud to play my horn.

Oh.  Does everyone know what a french horn is?  I'll tell you.  It's only the most awesome instrument.

...you need a picture?

Lots of squigglies, I know.  But it really is the prettiest instrument.

I went through Elementary School, and joined advanced band and all city band.  I was that good.

I went to middle school.  Someone else had transferred from trumpet to french horn.  He was now competition.  He was loud and brash and still acted like a trumpet player.  I hated that. I was used to being a one-woman section, and I was upset that I had to share.

That was made better by consistently beating him out for 1st part.

If I couldn't be the only french horn, I could still be the BEST french horn.

I left middle school, and started my freshmen year of high school at WAMOGO, an agricultural school two towns over.

I hated it.

I loved the Ag., I liked the small school.

I hated the band.  With a passion.  The director was an asshole, simply put.  The other horn player was the daughter of the school's principal, so guess who always got first part?

She sucked.

No lie, she'd only started playing horn the year before, and she was a jerk.

We had finals in WAMOGO for band, and we had to sight read music for them.  Our final had a horn solo, and naturally I assumed she would take first part and have to play.

No, that little bitch gave first part to me.

So I rocked the shit out of that solo.  There's no better revenge than success.

I had a decision:

Stay at WAMOGO, quit band
Leave WAMOGO, go to Torrington, keep playing

Really, the decision became easy.

I went to Torrington.  There were more horn players there, but I still ended up getting first part on my first try.

I loved it.  Band at THS was probably one of the best things to ever happen to me.  Band at THS was where I met my boyfriend of 4 years.  Band is where I learned to solo- I learned that I really could do it.

Wanna see? I have a video:
I solo (as in french horn solo, there's also a trumpet playing.  The french horn is the mellower sound) in the very beginning, but also at 5:40.  I am the higher pitched instrument there.  Notice how hard that is?  It's not a very good video, but you get the idea. That song is a blast to play.  But the sound quality in the video is meh at best.

That was my senior year.


Unfortunately, Becker doesn't have anything resembling a decent music program.  I simply cannot convince myself that any venture into the rag-tag things that they do attempt to start would be worthwhile.  I would just be disappointed.

I don't really have anything that can compare to my years at band, which is why I get upset when people make fun of it.  They have no idea what it's like to belong to a group that big and make things happen.

There are just things you take away from band.

There is nothing quite like a band bus.

On top of that, there is nothing like the strip show that occurs after a parade on a band bus.

Long socks are cool.

Suspenders are cooler.

Windex is not for windows, it's for shoes.

Trombone players are goofy.

Tuba players are worse.

Roll-Stepping is a life skill.

You will always try to march in time with the person next to you.

Spit isn't gross, it's a fact of life.

Being loud is normal.  Being quiet is a talent.

The band room is the best place on earth, But...

The couch in S's office will always be the most comfortable.

You will always step first with your left.

I miss band.