Blankets

I guess since I have no homework to procrastinate I can't write blog posts.

I mean.. I've been thinking about it.. but nothing has inspired me enough to draw pictures or write.

I really like blankets.  Like... obsessed with blankets.  Giant, fuzzy blankets.  The kind you can get enrobed in and cuddle up and just be.. ahhh comfy.

I would make sweet love with some blankets.

I got a blanket for Christmas.  It almost makes me forget about my wisdom teeth pain, almost (by the way, I did get them removed.. I might write a post AFTER this one about that.. I have some funny texts I can put on the internet to completely embarrass myself with...).

It is giant, teal, fuzzy, warm, oh my gosh I can't even use all the adjectives in the world to describe my feeling I have for my new blanket.

It is like frolicking through a field of flowers in warm emu boots wrapped in a shawl of lamb fur/wool with candy.

THAT GOOD.


I'm surprised I don't shower with blankets.. I am always in a blanket. If I could I would totally bring it with me to work and to class. I am going to bring this blanket everywhere I go.  It is totally a security blanket.  Not gonna lie.  It is.

If something happened to it I might cry.

I would cry.

I would hold a funeral.

I hope this blanket never dies, I love it soo much.

It is my temporary boyfriend.

I'm happy with it..it loves me more than any man would.

Okay, this was dumb... the next post will be better..without me being pissed off at my mouth for hurting.  Ouch.

Until next time!?..!?...?

Finals and Bdubs

I actually wrote this post last Wednesday (December 8th) but I haven't had time to post it until now..when I actually should be studying Econ.. but I figured, well you guys needed something to read before buckling down and getting your soul eaten by final exams.

This whole “college thing” is eating my life.  I’ve been studying all the time for what seems like an eternity, but really that means since this past Sunday.   I’ll be done next weds, however. I am so excited. 

Mainly because I am extremely tired and all that I want to do right now is draw pretty pictures…

and eat bacon cheeseburgers.

But as for tonight I have to study my butt off, but before that...I’m going to Bdubs.

Buffalo Wild Wings for those of you who are not remotely cool enough to understand short abbrevs from words (that means abbreviations). Is the best restaurant ever.  Is it overrated?  Yes, but I am in love with the Mango Habanero hot sauce on their boneless chicken wings.  It is like a sweet but uber spicy to the point of pain (and numbing lips) type of sauce that completely arouses the senses.  I get excited just thinking about eating them.  I would marry that sauce, I wouldn’t be able to kiss it, but it’d be tasty sweet wedlock.

My friend, Anna, has not been to a Bdubs. EVER. After hearing this distressing news I decided to write a contract in order to prove that we must go.  Our friend, Ashley, is coming too, because we are all pretty awesome and do not want to lose awesomeness by not going (as said by the contract).  Ashley and I have taken it as our duty to induct Anna (or take away her Bdubs virginity; either or) into the awesome world which is Buffalo Wild Wings.

Ashley and I have prepared for this very night by purchasing a specific silly bandz collection, two actually.  I, in all seriousness, loathe silly bandz.  I just cannot stand them, but, these silly bandz are the best I’ve ever seen and therefore I must purchase them and wear them with my friends.

The silly bandz that were purchased were sex position collection and penis collection.  Yup, I am highly immature and think they are the greatest thing on Earth.  Yup, penises are hilarious.  Sex positions are hilarious too.  I now am lucky enough to obtain 6 penis related silly bandz and 6 sex position silly bandz on my wrist as I type.  Basically… you should be jealous.

The plan is:  we go study, go to Bdubs, and then wear our new naughty silly bandz proudly and giggle secretly by feeling bad ass and like a rebel.

All the while eating Mango Habanero boneless wings.

Why can’t everyday be like today?

Snow

Yesterday night, on the first of December, was the first snowfall of the season (that actually stayed present) where I live.

What I mean by "stayed present" you ask?

 I live in Michigan.

The weather never knows what it actually wants to stay as here.  One day it'll be 30 degrees, the next 62.  Michigan is a PMSing woman...minus the joys of chocolate.

Anyways, the point is, when snow "sticks" (aka doesn't melt) that means that that snow is the first snowfall of the season.  If the first snowfall was when there was actual snow snowing outside.. it could be in October and not stick..and that just does not make any sense, if it was "of the season" it would stick to prove it was legit snow, not false non-sticking snow.

That is a lot about the ways of snow.. sorry.

Anyways, it was exciting, yet horrible.

Why both?  Exciting because it means we will, more than likely, have a white Christmas.  To me, it is not Christmas without the bountiful white snow on the ground.  Also, snow means snowball fights and sledding.  Sledding is the shit.  I cannot describe my intense passion for sledding.  Its like swallowing a whole popsicle.  It is super cold, yet exhilarating in a way that excites you and warms you up from the very thought of doing it.  It is almost like a naughty, but legal drug.

It is horrible because I ride my bike to campus..which is a 15 or 25 minute bike ride (depending on the day, of course).  On this day (when it was all windy and snowy in the morning) I had to ride the 25 minutes to my first class... at 8:30 in the morning.  Uber windy, giant snow flakes flying into my eyes and blinding me, and the heaviest back pack on earth made the trek utterly horrible.

Today, however, the snow is quite enjoyable.  I am inside my warm apartment looking out my balcony window and eating soup.

I need to invest in a ski mask on my treks to class, so I don't get wind burn.  Maybe snow pants.

I almost forgot to mention, it is incredibly fun (and probably very stupid) to go in a hot tub outside..and then run around in the snow and then jump back into the hot tub.  Weirdest (but very enjoyable) sensation ever.  You all should probably try it.

Peer pressure, do it.

10 Reasons Why I Want A Bacon Bikini

Over break there was a show on some channel on the tv (I'm descriptive..) that was entitled "Bacon Paradise". It told of the many joys of bacon and all the best places that cook it and such.

There is one restaurant that has a variety of hamburgers/cheeseburgers with immense amounts of bacon.  And bacon in brownies and bacon in a milk shake.  Apparently chocolate and bacon are the best combination in the world.

Ever since I watched that show I've been compulsively obsessed with bacon.  Instead of going black Friday shopping I probably ate 5 pieces of it for breakfast... I know that does not seem like a copious amount of bacon..but considering what bacon is made of?.. Ohh yeah, it is a lot.

During a random introduction of the show they showed all the different ways bacon is being used/eaten (to basically explain the purpose of the show.. with the name "Bacon Paradise" I feel like it would be hard to misconstrue...).  They showed a bacon bikini.  I want a bacon bikini.

I have come up with 10 reasons why I need a bacon bikini.

1. It's bacon.
2. If you ever get stranded because you took a tour with Gilligan and the Skipper.. you can use it for nourishment until you get rescued by people who know how to use a boat.
3. Lure men.  It's proven by Taco Bell commercials that the near smell of bacon will have loads of gorgeous, hunky men at your beck and call.

4. All the oil/grease from the bacon can cover your body to help you tan.
5. It's a modern fashion statement.
6. It is relatively cheaper than normal bikini's.
7. Eco-friendly.
8. Resistant to water.
9. If you get attacked by the shark, you can just throw your bikini at it and get away safely.  The shark will be distracted by the bacon and not eat you.
10. It's bacon...IN BIKINI FORM.

That's right, "it's bacon" is listed twice.  Want to know why?  Being bacon is double-ee important in the matter.  Nothing can describe why bacon is as awesome as it is.  It is just because it is bacon.  The very essence of bacon is indescribably intoxicating and rewarding.  Thus, it has to be listed twice.

Bacon bikini.. it IS the future.

Oops.

So this whole "Thanksgiving Break" thing has taken a toll on my normal ways of life..

I.E. me "doing" homework and going to bed at reasonable hours most of the week.

Also, less pie is consumed.

I promise I will post some seriously awesome (or at least remotely interesting) posts this week. It might not be until Thursday/Friday, but still, I shall post.

They may be mediocre..but many.

I have ideas.

Many, many ideas.

I just need my computer to save pictures.

Or else I do this type of formatting with random spaces after sentences so that if I switch topics I don't feel bad that I did.

I think I'm going to bed (example A).

One last and final tidbit about my break.

I made a nerf gun.  That's right, MADE. As in put together on my own and now I can shoot harmless (or HARMFUL) nerf darts at any one that "gives me the eye" in any weird way.  MWAHAHAHAHAH.

You shall be vanquished my foes!

....that was the stupidest post ever.... Oh well, PUBLISHHH :)

Coffee, My Adderall.

This week I have rediscovered the magic of coffee.

I forgot how focused I am when I drink a cup of coffee.  Strong coffee.  The kind that is bitter and makes your tongue tingle because it's so strong your tongue doesn't understand the flavor and therefore erupts from too much caffeinated water even remotely touching it.

When I make coffee... my brain awakens from the very thought of the coffee soon entering my body in order to corrupt the way my brain behaves.  The very thought of plugging the coffee pot in (because the Roommate and I are trying to be economical and "green") has conditioned my mouth to water with the imagination of a sweet, sweet, aroma of hazelnut and caramel.

How is "coffee related to me on adderall"; you ask?

Well, let us pretend I am staying up until 3am trying to studying for my devil class (which is really just the worst sociology class on the entirety of this Earth).  The reading material?  Some article about how African Americans started sociology because of some scientific research and something about Darwin.  I have to read all 60 pages by the next day because I procrastinate heavily in this class.  I also have to be able to pull apart random ideas and be able to explain them in class because my professor doesn't have a lesson plan.. ANYWAYS.

I am up super late, with super boring reading, and considering how I want to go to bed everyday at 6pm; this proves to be a super challenge to comprehend anything that is presented in front of me.  Even basic social interactions, such as understanding the Roommate has to learn a billion-and-fifty drugs because she is going to be a nurse or whatever, proves to be a task equivalent to climbing Mt. Everest.  In instances of the Roommate learning, I have massive giggle fits and run back and forth from the futon to her bedroom and jump on top of her on her bed because I do not know how to occupy myself on study breaks.  It will also result from loneliness.

Basically, anything that seems remotely more interesting than my reading will get paid attention to.  Reading a random tangent about kitties sleep walking? 5 hours of attention.  Oligopolies?  Reminiscing about playing Monopoly with the Cousins for 30 minutes.  Distractions GALORE.

After the initial arousal from thinking about making the coffee, I attempt to study as follows:
I make coffee.

Brain starts to be alert and realize it needs to function past 6pm.

I get my coffee and start reading.  

I drink coffee.

I read my material.. FOR 2 HOURS STRAIGHT.

Nothing distracts me.  For the whole 2 hours. (Grant it, I do have a crazy fit and run around like a cow with mad cow disease for maybe 10 or 20 minutes... BUT I am getting work done, and in college that is all that really matters in life.)

I remember what I've read and it is 2am!!!!!!

Completion of homework? A success.

Learning? WIN.

Coffee, I owe you one.  I need you in my life.  My brain cannot function properly without your bitter tasting juices enveloping my tongue with tingling sensations.  Coffee, you are my crack, my ecstasy, but most importantly my adderall.

I Drive a Zamboni. I Do Not Run a Daycare.

Sorry for the lack of posts...
I've been trying to study, even though this blog is all for NOT studying, or failing at it.

But.. whatever.

Do you know what I hate? Kids.

Especially at my work.

It's like.. the parents are all like "RUN MY CHILDREN! SPREAD MISERY AND DESTRUCTION AND MESSES!!! BE IN A PLACE THAT IS NOT NEAR ME SO I CAN WATCH MY BETTER CHILD PERFORM AT A SPORT THAT PROMOTES VIOLENCE AND COULD KILL!!!!"

That is my interpretation of how parent's think at ice arenas.

Seriously, it's like they think we run a daycare for their 4-7 year old children who are younger then their hockey players that are out on the ice.

A day care that picks up after their child spills a million and 3 cups of slushie all over the floor, with nacho cheese oozing at every spot imaginable, and broken plastic things everywhere (you know.. those quarter machines with prizes in lil plastic containers? Kids just stomp on them to get them out.. which is, the only way TO get them out.. but when they stomp.. it is like they are having a seizure and smash the crap out of that container.)

Do not get me started with all the kids who drop their stupid pickles on the ground too.  WE PUT THE STUPID PICKLES IN A STUPID PAPER HOLDER THING SO THE PICKLE DOESN'T FALL OUT. LEARN HOW TO FREAKING HOLD ONTO IT YOU LITTLE BUTTER FINGERED CHILD.

Sorry for the anger.  Wait, no, I'm not.  It is ridiculous.  I shouldn't have to babysit when I have other responsibilities to handle.  I have to manage the building, keep it clean, drive the zamboni (you may bow down to me now), sharpen skates, and deal with mean/stupid/bratty hockey parents.

Some of these people should not be allowed to have spawned any children. NONE.

These people cannot pick up after themselves, let alone pick up after their children.  That is why their children have no sense of responsibility when throwing stuff away.

I understand that they are kids and they do not necessarily understand/know that they should throw stuff away..but when they observe/watch my co-workers or myself clean up after them...week after week... it is like... REALLY.

Basically, hockey parents and their children are the devil.
I know there are "exceptions" to the rule, but realistically.. they are.

Fight it all you want, but one day working at my job and you will soon hate the parents..and their evil, messy, rowdy, spawn.

Wisdom Teeth Are An OxyMORON

My wisdom tooth is coming in in my left lower jaw. My whole jaw feels like its being shoved around like in a cage-fight wrestling match; minus the spandex.

It's been trying to protrude since Sunday or Saturday.  It has partially succeeded and caused a flap of skin to be all flappy and all having a party with food particles to produce infections.  I have major inflammation, and feelings of death and frustration. I probably have an infection and now my throat is going to swell up, I won't be able to breathe, and then I'll die a death from a stupid tooth which does not do any purpose in having.

Seriously, what are the purpose of wisdom teeth? People say they protrude when it's the age of acquired wisdom.  Basically, I am now just attaining my wisdom.  Only 1/4th of my smartness has been accomplished.

I'm not fit to go to school.

Stupid teeth.

Did you know they can grow in: angular, horizontal, vertical, and partial protrusion?

WHY IS IT ALL DIFFERENT?!  Shouldn't there be consistency with the fact that teeth grow OUT of the gums?!  Why are they all ramming up into my other teeth? Or playing peek-a-boo?

WHY ARE THEY BEING  BITCHES?!

I've taken a lot of ibuprofen today.  Probably 12 or 13 pills.  My stomach is going to die now too.  I'm a well-rounded machine of impending death.

At least I can partially numb the pain with Burt's Bee's chap stick, or even my kinky lip balm from Pure Romance.  After a while though, you look like a horny, pervert when you pull out a giant container of kinky lip/nipple balm out of your jacket pocket and start putting it near the back of your throat.  If that didn't hint to what I was thinking of.. I pity your mind.

Maybe you aren't wise like I am partially becoming.

Wise in the sense that, THESE TEETH DON'T MAKE SENSE.

Think about it; the moment they start coming in, they usually are coming in wrong and they have to be removed.  They are like a lame-greeting card holiday, like Sweetest Day.  It is just another excuse for the dentist/oral surgeon to make a good bunch of money.

Also, it's not like you can brush them properly if they do manage to come in correctly.  Your brush will most definitely cause you to choke trying to clean the stupidity that is your wisdom teeth.

Finally, WHY SHOULD SOMETHING COME IN HORIZONTAL AT YOUR OTHER TEETH.  I am seriously having an issue with this little fact.  I can't comprehend how this is the best evolution could do for our mouths.  Teeth that cause pain, and death if not removed.  I wondered how our ancestors dealt with these teeth.  Did they just let their teeth rot out?  Or did they pull them out like wild beasts and use them as weapons?  I really hope the later, because that is way cooler (and less messy) then letting them rot.

All of these reasons and more are why Wisdom Teeth are an oxyMORON.  They are definitely the opposite of "wise" and at all costs they are MORONIC.

Don't get them.


UPDATE:::

I spelled "inflammation" wrong in my first picture...but my teeth hurt too bad and I'm really tired, so I won't fix it.

Just so you know I know that I can't spell this late at night (I know, it is only 11:30.. I am an old lady and like to go to bed early...).

A Migraine Is Your Brain's Way of Saying It's Being Raped. Repeatedly.

I achieved my non-existent goal of receiving a migraine headache yesterday.  Worst experience of my life.

I didn't know what raping of my brain felt like until that moment.

I was just in the  bathroom, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I heard a weird, metallic, ringing sound.  Then, INSTANT PAIN in the back of my head.  With an addition of black, fuzzy vision.  I was thinking "What is going on?! I'm not drunk! What is this trickery? Am I having a stroke? Am I going to die? WHY ME?!?!?!!??"  It was a horrifying moment. I didn't know whether I caused this obnoxious hurting, or if it sprang upon me. I was pissed. I was having a great day, then BAM, my brain is getting raped.  Hardcore rape.  The rape where they take you, but think you like S&M and then attack you and saying "Yeah.. you LIKE THAT DON'T YOU. SUCK IT."  That was what was happening. No lie.  Minus my brain wanting the pain.

After the initial shock of "OH my sweet lord! I'm having a stroke?..!", I decided to stand up.  Was that a big mistake, the right side of my body was like "FAILURE" and decided to not move how I wanted to.  My fine motor control skills were gone, I could move in a general fashion..but actually moving gracefully? No, I walked like I had a cast on my leg and I had no crutches. And I was being laughed at.

I walk out of the bathroom and manage to fall against every wall.  I had terrible visions of falling on the ground and not being able to be saved until the Roommate came back from class at noon-thirty.  I thought of all the time she had between her next class to drive me to the emergency care unit in case it was a stroke.. or death.

I slam my hand against the chair trying to steady myself, but I must've hit it harder than I thought because my hand hurt real bad. Imagine smacking your hand against a brick because you thought you were bitch-slapping a marshmallow. Yeah, just like that.

Here is what is wrong with me at this point:
1. I can't really see.
2. The right side of my body turned stupid.
3. My head hurt like an S&M rape (minus my pleasure).
4. And now my hand hurts because I was not capable of grabbing a chair but rather smacked it instead.

I manage to lay on our "couch" (it's really a futon from Wal-mart; I'm fancy, I know.) with my knees bent and my arm over my face.  I was waiting.  I don't know what for.  It was either for the Roommate or for my headache to go away so I could eat or death.  However, my headache made me nauseous to the idea of food.  A couple of minutes later I decided to WebMd it to figure out what was going on... could I type? NO.  My fingers were mocking me as I tried to type the words "intense, random headache" into Google.  Eventually, after pressing all the wrong keys, I converted back into the aforementioned position.

I must've passed out/fell asleep, because I look at my phone and it says noon-thirty. HOORAY! The Roommate will be home soon.  I go to my room (able to walk a little better, still stumbling) and lay down in my bed. (After thinking about this... I don't understand why I migrated to my room... wouldn't I want to stay out in the living room just in case I died so the Roommate could easily identify I was dead?)  I set my alarm for about one-forty.  I hear the Roommate come home, make lunch, do some weird thing to the slider, and watch Family Guy.  I don't think I was fully conscious, but conscious enough to know what episode of Family Guy it was. (It was "Dammit, Janet" in case anyone cares.)

My alarm goes off, I meander back out to where she was and tell her what was going on, and how I felt like I was going to die.  She said something nurse-ee and relevant.  I don't remember what, but it could've been right.  I tried to make lunch, I wasn't hungry but it seemed like a good idea.  Then I told her I'd come back out when the buzzer went off but I was going to lay down for a bit.

Some 10 minutes later, theres a knock at our door and the Roommate ends up talking to some creeper who is selling magazines.  He pretty much invites himself in to use our table (which is cluttered, how he did not see this I don't know..he probably had a migraine too).  She doesn't know he is selling magazines to her until he parades inside and uses our table top.  I try to stay alert, in case the guy goes all REAL rapist and rapes her.  I could always be a ninja and produce a sneak attack and kick him in the gnads.  He would be sorry for looking at OUR table and inviting himself in.  

Sometime later, after hearing him try to badly sell (and flirt) his way to promote his lame magazines (golf? really?), the timer goes off to the oven.  So, I regretfully, have to get out of my bed and go out there in my pj's and take my meal (that I don't even eat) out of the oven.  He asks how I am, and I blatantly reply back "I'm dying" and go back to my room.  Sometime later (maybe 5 or 6 minutes), the Roommate comes in and asks me a question, pretty sure about magazines.  I say no.  We talk about how creepy he is, and she leaves and tells him to go because I'm puking my brains out (not really, but mention puke and people get all creeped out and want to leave ASAP).  He FINALLY leaves, and she comes back in and tells me about whatever was going on.  

I honestly don't remember what was happening. My head was throbbing.  She leaves, and I sleep for about 3 hours. Wake up and try to do homework but no, my head is still being raped.  It's a gentle rape this time, so I am able to read a bit.

Of course, I have band class.  Of course, there's a basketball game so I am late and end up parking a ways out.

Still have my headache.  Trumpets and percussion are not headache friendly.

Go to study group, and head hurts because that class sucks.

Go back to apartment and stay up late (gentle head raping still happening) and finally go to bed around 2 am.

I wake up this morning... MY HEAD IS STILL HURTING.  WHAT IS THIS?!?!?

Basically, I had a headache for 20 hours.

It is not a fun time.  I wouldn't wish it on my enemies.  Maybe.

So now I'm headache free!!!

YAY! I like not being raped mentally.

Migraines suck.  The end.

Harriet The Spy

When I was younger, the movie, "Harriet the Spy" came out on VHS (for those who don't know what that means...those rectangular tape things with windy wheels).  I was as excited as ever to get it and watch it.  I was completely absorbed by it.  I must've watched it 4 times a day.

After a few weeks (or days) I began to believe I, too, could be like Harriet, and be a spy.  I got a notebook like Harriet had in the movie, and found some type of magnifying glass and one of those "double-mirror-do-hickeys".

Whenever I had the chance, I would go be a spy.  What I spied on, who really knew.  I only spied at home or my grandparent's house.  I probably followed my younger brother around, or peered at my grandma from around the corner and watched her make dinner.

I thought I was invisible and the shit, just like Harriet.  I even wrote in my note book like she did.  I wrote down observations that made no sense or were mundane tasks, and finished the entries with " and thats why. I. Am. A. SPY."  Just like Harriet, because I was a cool spy.  Not a fake wanna-be spy.  Posers.

Eventually the phase ended, probably after discovering nothing exciting was occurring during my spying.

That doesn't mean my hardcore and legit spy training couldn't ever make a comeback.  It totally could.  You better watch yourselves.  Know why? Because, I. Am. A. SPY.

Halloween

HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

Halloween is the time of year where everyone who is anyone dresses up in ridiculous outfits and girls try to out-slut one another.

I, on the other hand, just want to wear something ridiculously awesome and makes me feel cool.  And maybe a little bit slutty.

Every year I feel like I have *the best* costume ideas....

Such as Lady Gaga

A Sailor Scout (Not Sailor Moon, per se, but one of the lesser known girls. Such as Sailor Venus or Sailor Mars)

A Zombie Prom Queen

And more recently a Nudist on Strike

I think of all these costumes and feel like my head is spinning with awesome ideas that need to be unleashed to the world and let them gaze upon my splendor and utter creativity...but that never happens.  I end up having to wait until the last minute to even know if I can go celebrate Halloween.  Usually I end up working on Halloween night (well, ....the ones with fun-times).  I also manage to want something that costs an extreme amount of money, so I have become fairly frugal in the last couple of years.  Why shell out half your life savings and your first born for a costume you'll only wear once a year?

With those thoughts twirling around in  my mind, it is how instead of a Nudist on Strike I became Barbie this year.

After hearing everyone's totally rad outfit, or super slutty/sexy one, I decided (very last minute, such as, 2 hours before a fun-time event) to become Barbie.

I destroyed my room in search of everything and anything that is hot pink and hooker heels.

I actually managed to pull it off, and yet again, I did not spend more than 5 dollars on a Halloween costume.

A friend and the Roommate.

One year I will fulfill my dreams of being something ridiculously awesome, and slutty.  Maybe next year I can dress up as a person from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  It will result in sheer awesomeness and total slut-ness.  No girl will be slutty than I, unless they are naked...or in a bra and underwear.

Bruises

Before I start anything meaningful, I am totally making a toaster oven specialty... grilled cheese with TWO cheeses.  That is half of my calcium for the day (night)!  Take that nutrition!

I must be the perfect bruising human.  

I swear, I walk and get bruises on my knees FROM my knees.

Does that happen to anyone else? I feel as if I use my body for its intentions.  I move my joints so I can in turn move from one place to another. Which somehow turns into receiving bruises that seem to appear out of thin air.

I currently have 10 bruises on my body.  3 are accounted for and are located on my right arm (I was playing/wrestling my dog...she's the fattest and cutest dog ever).  The other 7 are on various spots on my legs.  Some are even right near where the thigh reaches the pelvis.  Seriously?  Did I get raped and not known about it?

If I did get raped, where did this occur? A better question, when did this occur?

Is there an invisible rapist who doesn't know how to rape?  Can he/she be stopped?  Will they ever learn to properly rape? 

Anyways, moral of the story: bruises like me.  I must be appetizing, like tacos.

Toaster Ovens= Adult Easy Bake Ovens

When I was a kid I was OBSESSED with my easy bake oven.

I wanted a small individual cake.  What I got, was a cake that actually isn't fully baked and resembles more of a gelatinous mound of cake batter and would probably be better if I just ingested the cake batter, but baking in a mini white/purple/pink oven is way awesomer than eating cake batter by it self.

I remember begging my mom to buy me more cake mixes so I can use my oven and bake treats like she did.  She would always seem wary at first, but my expert bargaining of trading my ability to execute manual labor and "I love you mommy!"'s always seem to win her over.

My mother would buy the mixes, and I would be over joyed with being able to FINALLY produce the most amazing baked goods. Ever.

The only problem was I was horrible at adding the right amount of liquids to the mixes. I would always add too much water, which causes the cake to be gross and not actually form a light, fluffy cake, but rather the gelatinous mound of cake batter as I have mentioned earlier.  I would then proceed to be upset with the fact that I could no longer have the chance to experience the "better" flavor of cake mixes.  Which really means, I fucked up the chocolate mix and vanilla is gross.

One time my mother even had the bright idea of putting the little tin of gelatinous mound of cake batter into the adult oven to cook it.  Nothing happened.  Not even the adult oven could fix my over use of liquids in this instance.  I was doomed to fail at baking...or was I!?

After the initial shock of failing at using my easy bake oven, I got over it and started making actual food with the adult oven.  Such as spaghetti, pork chops, and even the occasional omelette (now I'm just showing off).

But since I've started college, I've grown accustomed to using my toaster oven.

You just plug it in, put your bread on the rack, pizza rolls on a tray in the toaster oven...the possibilities are endless.  You can even make GRILLED CHEESE. With grille marks.  It is like a euphoric experience baking with a toaster oven.  All the different ways to make food because you are too lazy to operate a real oven.  Conceivably, you could probably bake little cupcakes in there, or even result in using the old easy bake oven tins. Maybe.

I can't even comprehend how many items you can cook in a toaster oven.  It is almost like a game; "What exotic food shall I cook in the toaster oven today?" (exotic meaning something similar to hot dogs).  I haven't actually tried that, they might explode, but I feel like it could be a winner.  Winning is always an option.

That is why a toaster oven equals an adult easy bake oven.  

This Is Nifty.

This one time I decided to start a blog.
This one time I accomplished this decision.
Huzzah!

I decided to actually make one of these when I realized I wasn't accomplishing my studying abilities.
Reading about the vision system is too thrilling to even comprehend.

Sarcasm.

We shall see if I am any decent at this and if people actually find me amusing, I might win a little bit inside. Okay, that's a lie, I would win a lot.

Do you know what I hate?

Pink/purple/red drinks.

Whenever you drink one of them (and they are ALWAYS the most delicious) you always MANAGE to spill some. Even if you do not recall spilling it, you did. You always do. It's an unspoken rule of the pink/purple/red drinks.

They seduce you with their tasty-ness and utterly sexy color (because, when I think of red I think of porn, it's the lipstick) you can not not drink them!  The ever cascading juice/drink that enters your mouth and fills your taste buds with that sweet tangy yet delicate flavor of epic proportions is inescapable and undeniable.

Anyways, you spill it on your white object. It would be more convenient to spill on a white fluffy dog, like a bichon frise, because maybe it would absorb it and turn pink and therefore prove to be a much superior dog than the white kind. SO you spill it, sometimes on your shirt, the carpet, shoes, pants, anything else that is white. You have to clean it IMMEDIATELY.

You proceed to find a stain remover.

You spray the shit out of the that stain, and hope its over.

You forget the stain remover is still doing its duty, until you smell it and wonder what that smell is.

Realizing what the smell is you get a paper towel and try to absorb the mess, but manage to make it all foamy and it spreads EVERYWHERE.  It's like the Huns invading, you don't know whats going on and then BAM! Your territory is taken.

After a few minutes of trying to stop the Huns beating down your great wall, you manage to make it look orderly and tidy and go on to drinking your pink/red/purple drink.

Until the cycle happens again.

I don't really know how to end this. So here's a picture.