STOLEN!

Hello all. This is Joelle's wonderful awesomely awesome friend. Let's call me Demyx :). I am stealing her blog for the time being simply because we are at a party and I want to. So nener nener nener. :P

Yes, this is how life goes when you're with me. Joelle knows this. Now, since this is a "rant" blog, I will share a small rant of my own. You all know that guy that types using way too many letters? Yeah, I hate that guy. Becausee peoplee dontt uundersttandd thatt youu can typee by usingg justt oone letttter insteadd of fivee afterr everyy wordd. Yeah. Don't be that guy. Because it drives everyone bonkers, distracts people from the point you are trying to get across, and, let's face it, it makes you look flat out stupid.

Next rant. People who say "no offense". You know, it doesn't really mean anything just because you say "no offense". Example of something that will never happen. Ever.

"Hey, I freaking hate your guts. no, offense though."

"Oh, none taken, man. It's fine because you didn't mean to hurt me."

"Yes. I'm so glad you understand. Let's be friends."

...Really? I don't think so.

OH! Story time.

At this party we're at, Joelle took my seat at the table while I was getting a drink. Then, Kendall sat down in her seat. I come back, and am left standing. Yes, I am seatless. (I know. It's terrible. I am so mistreated. T-T) And so, in retaliation, I put an ice cube down her shirt. (Joelle hates cold things, fyi.) She freaked out, but didn't move. So, I got another ice cube and tried to put it down Kendall's shirt. He stood up and I think was able to get away. But, in return, I got his seat. So, I sat. Kendall was left seatless. (Sad, I know, but it had to be done. Maybe it's karma or something like that. I dont believe in karma, but whatever.) So, I was in Kendall's chair next to Joelle. She then informed me that I never did get my original chair back. I then picked up my water and poured it in her 7up. She kind of looked at it like "...so?" I just laughed and was like "HAHAHA! NOW IT IS WATERED DOWN!" (Which is great because I am Demyx and water is kind of my thing). She frowned and then had to dump out her 7up. I felt empowered. (Which never happens around Joelle because she is totally BA and I'm more... silly/wacky/easily-distracted/clumsy/a walking disaster.)

Oh, boy. I'm not sure what's happening now, but Joelle just screamed "I AM A LEGAL ADULT!" ...I'm scared. XD

They are playing Apples to Apples now. So it looks like my priorities just switched. Apples to Apples is now #1.

So, goodnight world. I'm out. Peace, love, and happiness. Keep rocking man :)

Oh, and happy new year. :)

RAGE.

It's kind of a tradition that my brother and I each get a video game for Christmas. What can I say? We're junkies. I mean, really. I don't think I could survive more than a month without playing video games at least once. Everyone I know can attest to that fact. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, Jak and Daxter, you name an RPG, I've probably played it, and Logan's big into the sports games, specifically NBA stuff. So anyway, I got the new Jak and Daxter game (YEAH!) and Logan got... um... (what did he get?) Oh. NBA 2k10. Or something. (I don't know these things.)

Anyway, the extended family live in Missouri and Kansas, so every year around Christmas we log thousands of miles on the cars and ship out. Usually we open presents Christmas morning and then load up, are in Saint Louis by evening, stay the night, and then head to Kansas.

Now, anyone who's been doing the math can see where this is going. New video game = desire to play. However, being in a car = no PS2. So I packed up the PS2 and our new games and cords and all that good stuff and we headed off, hoping to get some playtime in at the hotel.

Well, Logan gets to unpacking the PS2 and quickly realizes... the controller is missing.

I could have SWORN I stuck it in there. I mean, I distinctly remember wrapping it up and telling Logan, "I'm only packing one controller," and him saying, "Okay," and then taking it into my room, and then... nothing. I am now confident that it is sitting on my bed, thinking, 'no one loves me. They took the Playstation and NOT ME.'

(I'm sorry, poor abandoned controller. I do love you. I promise.)

So basically we've got new games, a nice big TV, a working PS2... and no way to play it. FML.

Size Matters.

I pride myself on being a tall girl. I mean, I'm not super-model tall, but I'm taller than average. Always have been. I mean, I'm around 5'7", which isn't anything special, except I've pretty much been this tall since, like, eighth grade. I got really tall really fast growing up, and I was always one of the tallest in my class.

But sometime this past summer, my brother Logan got taller than me.

It doesn't sound like a big deal, I know. BUT IT IS. I know guys are generally taller than girls. I KNOW. But that doesn't make the fact that my little brother is now taller than me any better. I swear, yesterday I was kickboxing his ass across the loft. (I'm not even joking. That actually happened.) Once upon a time, I could take him DOWN. HARD.

I was becoming accustomed to the fact that he was going to end up taller than me and that was that, until I came back for Christmas this year, and lo and behold, Logan is taller than DAD now. Which puts Logan at around 5'11", Dad at 5'10", Mom at 5'8" (give or take) and me at... 5'7".

Yeah. I'm the shortest one in the family. How wrong is THAT?

Password?

Today was my last day of lab class, and consisted of a five-minute survey and a ten-minute safety quiz, so I got back to my dorm around an hour earlier than usual. Emily has a class at the same time that goes till nine, but she didn't get out early like I did, so I walked back to my dorm with my lab partner (a new lab partner, not the dumb one that spilled acid all over me.)

We went into Anne and Emily's room rather than mine because I wasn't sure if Aliena was working on something, and Anne and David were both immersed in computer games (Call of Duty for Anne, World of Warcraft for David.) I was bored, so I started to get on Emily's computer to check my Facebook... and realized that she was already logged in on her own.

Me: -maniacal laughter-

I mean, come on. The girl doesn't password protect her computer (well, she does, but not from the screen saver) and she was ALREADY LOGGED IN to Facebook. She was ASKING to get messed with.

So of course I indulged myself, posting various status updates about how awesome I am, replacing her entire Flair board with hacking-related buttons or the four buttons I managed to find with my name on them, giving her a Twilight-related profile picture and desktop background, and rewriting most of her profile to reflect my awesomeness and her general inferiority as a vertically-challenged, adopted, unloved lefty.

Oh, and I tacked an extra paragraph onto her Seminar paper waxing eloquent on my amazingness and how I should be crowned supreme queen of the world.

Then to finish it all off, I switched her Facebook language to German so I could understand it and she couldn't, and changed her user account password to 'joelleisawesome'.

Needless to say, she was VERY UNHAPPY when she got back from her class.

My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard

After Emily, Anne, Aliena and I got back from break yesterday, we were all pretty hungry so we went to Powell to grab something to eat. Problem: Powell was closed for break. (Who's dumb idea was THAT?) So we piled into Emi's car and headed off to Steak'n'Shake. Mmmm.

Our waiter's name was Miles (incidentally, I had a friend named Miles in elementary school, but it's not the same guy...) and he was one of the MOST ANNOYING PEOPLE I HAVE EVER MET.

When he brought us our drinks he narrated everything he did. "Oh, I have a water here, I'm gonna set that right there for you, I've got a water here for you, oh, here's a lemonade for you, I'm gonna put that right there, and I have one more water here for you, I'll just set that right there."

I am NOT kidding.

Well after a while I realized that he was being... awkward. Like... staring-at-my-chest-area awkward. I was wearing a sweater that I guess is kind of low-cut. Anyway, I had my hair down, so I just draped it over my shoulder to... um... discourage that sort of thing.

Anyway, I'd ordered a white chocolate milkshake - highly recommended, by the way - and drank it all by the time we were done, so I ordered another one to go. He brought it to me, but didn't put it on my ticket... even though they don't give free refills on milkshakes.

So here's the thing. I don't really know whether he did it on purpose or just forgot to add it... but I ended up with a free milkshake. Con: creepy waiter staring... but Pro: free milkshake.

Sorry, Miles, but that whole self-narration thing doesn't really do it for me. But thanks for the milkshake. :)

LOL.

I spent a week home for Thanksgiving last week and just got back yesterday. It was pretty awesome seeing the family and friends and all, but waking up this morning was possibly one of the hardest things I've ever done. (I used to be a morning person. Not so much anymore.)

Anyways, Daddy drove me back to school yesterday, and we were listening to the random CDs I brought with me, one of which happened to be 'oseven', which is a compilation of a whole bunch of Christian rock songs from 2007.

There's one song on there called 'Rise Up' by Disciple, and one called 'Life Again' by Decyfer Down. I was naming the bands as their song came on, and when I said "Decyfer Down," Dad was all like, "I always get them and Disciple mixed up. I keep wanting to call them 'Disciple Down'."

Then he said, "It sounds like Peter walking on water, and then falling, you know? DISCIPLE DOWN! DISCIPLE DOWN! GO, GO, GO!"

Cracked me up. :)

Why Kingdom Animalia Hates Me

I have a theory. (Brace yourselves.)

If you've been following this blog from the beginning (good for you! I heart you) you know that I have issues with small, furry creatures. Namely squirrels who throw acorns at me, deer who run into my daddy's car, and skunks who think it's hilarious to spray in my general direction.

So naturally (being a science major and all) I've compiled a completely relevant theory as to why these creatures hate me.

It's the Disney movies.

I SWEAR! All the Disney movies that had animals in them were, generally speaking, ones I didn't like. The Jungle Book; Bambi; The Fox and the Hound; Robin Hood; Snow White - I hated them. (Well, okay, not 'hated', per se, but they weren't my favorites. I can't stand Snow White's voice, and I don't think I've ever actually seen the Fox and the Hound.)

Conclusion: the animals are getting back at me for dogging on their cartoon counterparts. (Pun fully intended.)

Here's my rationale: I loved Lion King. I loved The Little Mermaid. And you don't see lions or hyenas or crabs or fish coming after me. Just the little woodland creatures.

No, I'm not crazy, and I'm not paranoid. I'm just unloved. :)

Superstitious?

(Yes, the events detailed in this post happened four days ago. I spent all weekend at home with no wireless internet and a hormonal office computer. Gimme a break.)

So in case you didn't know (what are you, stupid?) last Friday was, in fact, Friday the 13th. And since my brother's play was last weekend, I decided I wanted to go home and see him (the play was awesome, for the record, but sadly that's not the point of this post.)

Since I don't have a car here (glares once again at parents :D) Dad picked me up on his way home, and we went to McDonalds to eat dinner, since I hadn't eaten yet.

Friday the 13th Irritation #1: Stupid McDonald's workers messing up orders. (Seriously. When someone asks for a burger PLAIN it usually means WITHOUT pickles, ketchup, mustard, onions, and whatever the hell else they slather on there.)

Then we got out onto the bypass and realized that there was a wreck somewhere WAAAAAY down the road, and traffic was backed up for miles.

Friday the 13th Irritation #2: Taking 45 minutes to get out of town when it should take two. (Is it really that hard to get a cop out there to direct traffic? I mean, really.)

But eventually we made it out of town, and jammed to my random taste in music, which included the Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Linkin Park, Skillet, et cetera. We were about two hours down the road, taking a shortcut around Cincinnati, when all of a sudden we see a buck (of the deer variety, sadly, and not the cash type) standing in the other lane.

Friday the 13th Irritation #3: Animals too stupid to realize they're fine where they are and insist on jumping IN FRONT OF your car.

I am NOT KIDDING. People say 'I didn't hit a deer, the deer hit me'. They mean it. This buck jumped INTO our lane. Dad slammed on the brakes, I screamed like a little girl, and Bambi landed on our hood, rolled over it, somehow dented the column connecting the windshield and the passenger side window, and yet managed to not snap off the rearview mirror. Then he proceeded to run off into the woods. All that and we're still not sure he died. SIGH.

So we pulled off at a conveniently located BP, talked to a cop, and examined the damage - the hood is all crumpled in, and it's leaking something - I don't actually know what, but it can't be that important since we made it home without further incident.

I make fun of Caitie all the time for being superstitious, but now I'm starting to think she's on to something. (Don't tell her I said that. :D)

My Life as an Abandoned Dormie

It's Friday, the day to party things up, to kick up your feet and relax after a stressful week of classes. I was looking forward to hanging out with the girls, watching a few movies, playing video games, writing some NaNoWriMo, and maybe revising my rhetoric paper somewhere in there.

Scratch that.

Anne AND Emily AND Aliena have all decided that they're going home (or away, in Aliena's case) this weekend. Now, see, normally I wouldn't mind, because I'd just call up my dear old daddy (yes, I'm a daddy's girl, what can I say?) and ask him to swing by and pick me up on his way home.

Except Anne didn't inform me about her intention of going home until, oh, about an hour ago.

JERK.

See, I knew Emily and Aliena weren't going to be here, but that's happened before, so I figured Anne and I would just chill in her room and play Kingdom Hearts all weekend. But then ANNE decided she was going home, too. And where does that leave me? Oh, yeah. ALONE.

-sniffs in false despair-

(Actually, I don't mind that much. I like having time just to be alone sometimes.)

So I've stocked up on generic soda and pretzels and string cheese, and Anne left me her room keys so I can get to the PS2, so it's gonna be a one-woman party down here in Sullivan Annex. Be jealous, jerks. Be jealous.

Message

This is going to be a long post, but please stick with it. It's important.

I went to Rhetoric class today and heard some people talking about there being a street evangelist in Powell plaza yesterday. Apparently he told some people that they were going to go to hell for wearing blue jeans and dyeing their hair red. He told a deaf student that being deaf is a sin. (Like he can CONTROL that.) The students that were talking about it said that the evangelist and his group were coming back today.

It was strange for me because a few weeks ago I was back in my hometown and I taught at youth group about exactly this kind of situation, and how to handle it. But I'd never actually seen anyone like this in real life, never actually been there for it. For all my talk, I kind of realized I wasn't really equipped to talk to this guy. So I texted Andrew, my youth director back home. (Thanks, Andrew, you're the best.) He gave me some awesome ideas, and Emily and I decided that we wanted to go down and actually listen and see what this guy was about.

I was kind of nervous, and didn't eat much at lunch, because I knew I wanted to speak to this man. So we went down after lunch and just listened for a while. There were three men there, but only one was talking. The other two were just kind of standing there. And there was a little kid with them, maybe seven or eight years old. (It was weird for me, because he looked exactly like my cousin Grant when he was that age.) They'd attracted kind of a crowd - I want to say maybe thirty people. When we got there the preacher had just been asked - if you take the Bible so literally, how can you wear 'mixed fibers' or eat food that isn't kosher? He responded by saying that those laws were only set down for the Israelites, and that we don't need to follow them now, that we only need to follow God's moral law.

I admit, I don't know whether that's true or not, but whatever.

I was curious, so I just asked him what he considered to be the moral law. He pulled out his Bible and read from the New Testament. (Which is good, I guess, because a lot of the Old Testament was refuted in the New Testament, and I was going to be really irritated if he started preaching from the Old.) He quoted 1 Corinthians 6:9-10. 'Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.' (That's what my version has it as; his translation was a little more formal.) He then went on to say that those people - the 'fornicators', as he called them, were going to hell.

I pointed out that Jesus told us to love everyone, regardless of whether or not they were 'fornicators'. He agreed with me (sort of). I was having a hard time getting a word in edgewise, but I did my best - I said "Then shouldn't the message we're preaching be one of love? That God loves these people and wants to be closer to them? Not that they're going to hell?"

He told me that the truth was a hard one, and that it wasn't his fault that people didn't like what he was saying. I am not even exaggerating. He said, "If people don't like my message, that isn't my fault." I asked him how he could justify that if his mission was to save people. He told me that he didn't judge his preaching by how many he saved, but by whether or not what he was saying was 'glorifying to God'.

I wanted to tell him that it sounded like he was only glorifying himself, but I figured that would be an attack on him personally. So I told him I respected what he was doing, and that he had the courage to stand in front of everyone and speak from his heart, but that I couldn't respect a message that was about hate. I said that the message of Christ should be preached in such a way as to draw people in, not to push them away.

The sad thing was, I know I didn't change his mind at all. He quoted some verse from one of the Gospels where Jesus talks about the world hating him for the message he preached. And then he just went on talking. Someone asked him if he ever sinned, and he said no. It's that kind of thing that just irritates me. Because NO ONE is perfect, except for Christ. Yeah, we're supposed to try to be like him, but we CANNOT be without sin.

I wasn't the only one there that was talking back to him, but I was definitely the only one keeping my cool. After a while Emily pointed out that there were students standing around with sandwich boards. We were kind of worried at first, because the first one we saw was a girl, and on the back of her sandwich board it said "God took my mother and my best friend, and I despise him." But when she turned around, it said "Yet I can do ALL THINGS through Christ who strengthens me." I was sick of listening to the preacher, so I went over and talked to one of the sandwich board guys.

I said, "I just want to thank you for what you guys are doing. People need to see this side of the message."

He smiled, and he was like, "Yeah, we'd been planning this for weeks, and then this guy shows up... but one of our guys had a feeling, like God spoke to him, and told him that something would happen on Tuesday that would strengthen our message. And then he showed up."

I was completely taken aback. I mean, how cool is that? Almost like God sent this evangelist to give the sandwich board people something to refute.

I thanked him again, and left, and came back to my dorm so I could write this, but my hands were shaking so bad (because I was angry) that I couldn't type, so I got up and started punching my mattress (because that's just what I do) and accidentally slipped and hit the bedframe and busted open one of my knuckles. (Oops.)

Then Emily came back (she'd stayed to listen a little longer) and told me that he'd said that Jesus never tempts us beyond something we can handle. (Which is a good point.) But Emily asked him a hypothetical question. If you were living in a third-world country in extreme poverty, with no legitimate or legal way to feed your family, and you chose to steal, would you still go to hell? And get this: he said YES. Un-frickin-believable. He said he'd pray to God to help his family, and then if he got no answer, then he would accept that God meant for them to die of starvation, and let them die.

That isn't the way to help people. That isn't what God wants us to do. God loves everyone, and he wants us to love everyone, because it is through the grace of God that we are saved, and not through anything we can do. We are ALL sinners. There is no way for us to live completely without sin, because we're only human, and God knows that, and accepts us for who we are. THAT'S what we should be telling people. THAT'S the truth.

Viva La Vie Boheme!

So Anne, Emily, Aliena and I went to see Rent yesterday in Cincinnati. It was the national tour of this year's Broadway production, so I was pretty psyched to see some top-notch acting. Not to mention that I am a complete and total Rent geekazoid. I'm pretty sure I can sing the entire soundtrack. And I am COMPETELY IN LOVE with Roger. -sighs-

But anyway, when we got there we saw the poster advertising it, and it said:

Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp in RENT!

OH. MY. GOD.

For those of you who aren't complete and total nerds like me (which I'm assuming is most of you, excluding Caitie and Mom), Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp played the original Roger and Mark when Rent debuted in 1996. They practically CREATED those roles. And Adam Pascal is FRIGGIN GORGEOUS.

Needless to say, I screamed like a little girl. And bought a Playbill signed by the entire cast. Yes, I am a shameless fangirl. -squeals-

RAIN!!!!!!!

I feel like a drowned cat. Not that I have ever BEEN a drowned cat, mind you. But if I were a drowned cat, I'm pretty sure this is what I would feel like. Meow.

It has been raining for ETERNITY. (Okay, that's an overstatement. Shut up.) But no, really, I think the longest we've gone without rain since this year started has been three days. I'm not even kidding. My jeans are being torn to shreds from getting dragged through puddles. There are waterstains in the soles of my favorite Chucks.

It wasn't so bad at the beginning of the year. You know, when it was still WARM. Now not only is it rainy, it's also COLD. And tonight we're supposed to have a soccer game. I'm currently waiting for the powers-that-be to text me back and tell me whether or not we're playing tonight. AND THE ANSWER HAD BETTER BE NO.

Rain makes me cranky. Can you tell?

Dystopia 101

No, it's not that retarded Rihanna song (Disturbia). Dysopic novels are stories that take place in a miserable, emo world usually full of poverty, war, disease, suffering, blah blah blah. Good examples most people know are 'The Giver', '1984', 'The Handmaid's Tale', 'Children of Men', 'Minority Report', 'The Matrix', or, my personal favorite, 'V for Vendetta'.

What does this have to do with the price of tea in China? (Don't ask, it's something my old pre-calculus teacher used to say...) Well, as some of you may know, November is National Novel Writing Month, affectionately referred to by its loving fans (aka yours truly) as NaNoWriMo.

And I, being the creativity nerd I am, have decided to do something a little different and try my hand at dystopia. WOOT! October, by the way, is National Novel Planning Month. (NaNoPlaMo? I don't actually know if they call it that...)

This was most likely caused by the fact that Anne, Emily, Agathe and I watched 'V for Vendetta' this past weekend for movie night. If you haven't seen it, then I will forgive you, as long as you go rent it ASAP. It's probably one of the best movie's I've ever seen, and yes, V has been added to my long list of fictional boyfriends. He's pretty friggin awesome.

Awesome quote: "There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth."

Anyway, as good as 'V for Vendetta' was, that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is that through my desire to write a dystopic novel for NaNoWriMo, I have put my poor characters through centuries of trauma.

Today I planned out the history of the fictional world my NaNoWriMo takes place in. First I created this kick-ass religion based partially around Hinduism, partially around Chinese philosophy, and partially around Socratic/Platonian justice. (Whoever said Dr. Austin never told us anything useful?) Then I stole some ideas from V for Vendetta (and I'd tell you specifically what they were, but it would spoil the story, and THAT would be a tragedy) and wiped out half of my population, installed an evil power-seeking dictator who uses my awesome religion to control people politically, and forced everyone who DID survive my catastrophe to live in constant fear that the dictator will suddenly develop a hatred for... say... people with freckles, and BOOM, within a week everyone who had freckles will be hanging by their necks from a crenellated wall.

-cackles maliciously- I feel SO POWERFUL!!!!!

Five hundred years after all this, my six main characters will have to head up the resistance that's taking this guy's descendants down. How are they going to do that, exactly? Um... give me a few days to work that out... Viva la revolucion!

(Where's V when you need him?)

Lamentations of a Deprived Gamer

Maybe you haven't noticed yet (what are you, deaf, blind, and stupid?) but I'm pretty obsessed with video games. And by obsessed, I mean COMPLETELY, TOTALLY ADDICTED BEYOND ALL HOPE OF RECOVERY.

But the thing is, I don't have any of my systems with me, because 1) my parents wouldn't let me bring the PS2 or the GameCube, 2) my brother and I share them anyway, so even if I was allowed to take them I'd have to get through him first, and 3) I don't have a TV to plug them into anyway.

But lo and behold, I was talking to Anne, and she was like, "I think I might have one of those at home..."

Me: (thinking) how do you have a PS2 and not know it?

But I digress.

So basically she brought her PS2 down over fall break and I nabbed a bunch of games I had, like Kingdom Hearts and the Chronicles of Narnia and stuff.

Of course Anne, being the non-gamer she is, didn't think to grab a memory card, so anytime we want to play anything we have to start over from the very beginning of the game. And she also had to special-order a TV, which should be shipping in... sometime... hopefully...

So we've had to hijack the lobby TV whenever we want to play, but of course we can't play anything fun because we don't have a memory card yet. Meanwhile anyone walking by us hears yells of 'Get that ogre!' and 'Drop the small child and no one gets hurt!'

My favorite has definitely been my name-unknown fellow game nerd, who observed us running around Caer Paravel in the Prince Caspian game and went, 'Um, why are a minotaur and a centaur on the same team? They're supposed to be mortal enemies.'

Whoever you are, dude, I think I love you.

Legal

Today is my eighteenth birthday (halla!) so I was already feeling pretty good when I woke up this morning. Then it turns out my rhetoric professor's sick, so class was cancelled, which is AWESOME because I hadn't written my paper yet, and I'd been planning to do it this morning, but now I don't have to. Yay!

Anne and I were talking about it on Facebook, and someone she knows was telling this story about how her professor had a heart attack so they didn't have to take their final. At first I was like, "That's terrible..." but it turns out he didn't die, which makes it okay... right? :)

But it's pretty weird, because I have Facebook for my phone, and every time someone writes on my wall, it texts me... and since it's my birthday, which is listed on Facebook for all to see, everyone's posting on my wall 'happy birthday' and stuff like that. I feel pretty loved, except my friends apparently all get up at the buttcrack of dawn to check their Facebooks, so I got like eight different messages between 6 and 7 this morning.

I'm a morning person, but really? Was that necessary? Some people need their beauty sleep, and I need more than everyone else. :D

Rain, Rain, GO THE HELL AWAY.

It has been raining for THREE WEEKS.

No, not three weeks straight, just... three weeks. I think the longest we've gone between downpours is like twelve hours. And the sidewalks and streets flood pretty bad, so it's practically like swimming to try and get around campus. It rained this morning, but by 1:00 the sun was out, so I thought it was over, so I didn't grab a jacket or an umbrella or anything when I went to chemistry. I know, I know. Stupid me. I get out of chem and what do I see? A whole lot of nothing, because it's all blocked out by rain. ANGRY FACE.

Oh, yeah, and I wore a white t-shirt today. -sighs-

Now they're saying it's a tornado warning, and all I want to do is go home, but I have a four hour drive, and from what I hear it's raining back home too... why, God? Why?

Don't Take It Personally...

Emily's now threatening to kill me because of that last post. :D She tried to call me just now (this is only five minutes after I posted 'Leftys') and I didn't answer (because she's scaaaaary) and this was her voice-mail:

"I'm going to kill you. I know where you sleep, I can climb through your window. Be very afraid. I hate you."

Right now you're thinking, "Wow, and they call each other friends?"

Most of Emily's and Anne's and my relationship is based on insults. We have multiple names for Emily including 'adopted', 'cracker mack', and 'inferior lefty'. Anne and Emily make fun of me for the whole squirrel thing (see 'SQUIRREL!' and 'Sleeptalk'), and I regularly inform Anne that no one loves her, or that she has exactly 0 friends.

It's not cruel. It's not horrible. It's simply our way of showing affection.

Lulz.

Why Leftys Are Inferior Beings

So Emily's left-handed, a fact which Anne and I find hilarious. Why is the simple question of hand dominance hilarious, you ask? Well, there are so many things in the world that they complain about and don't need to.

For example: left-handed scissors. Right-handed people can't use left-handed scissors, but leftys can use right-handed scissors. My question: then why the hell do they even make left-handed scissors? Let's exclude more than seventy percent of the population by being hand-ist against the majority. Right. Makes sense.

Also, if Emily is sitting on my right side at lunch or dinner, her elbow keeps knocking into me when she eats. So we make her sit on the far left end of the table. And she has to turn her paper sideways to write, which doesn't make any sense no matter how you think about it... so we've decided that she's naturally inferior, and therefore all leftys must be inferior.

No one else in her family is left-handed, so the joke is that she's adopted. Anne and I keep telling her that no one loves her. LOL.

Bane Of My Existence

I'm sitting in calculus as I write this. Yes, I am actually in calculus this very second. How do I have access to my blog in calculus, you ask? We're in the Mathematica lab right now.

Mathematica = (a calculus program on the computer) x (frustation^1,000)

Why is calculus even required here at EKU? You only ever need it if you're going into physics. WHICH I'M NOT.

Joelle = ((tired x cranky x (sore from rock climbing))^Mathematica) + (hatred of math in general)

What is the point of a computer program that does calculations for you? I feel like they already invented a pocket-sized version. Oh yeah, it's called a CALCULATOR.

Wtf.

Why Women Don't Let Men Do Laundry

(Yes, I know the title of this post is sexist. Get over it.)

Anne and I spent another three days holed up in her room this weekend. Before you judge us, just know that I finally bought Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days (which is FRIGGIN AWESOME, in case you were wondering) and managed to get Anne hooked too. We intended to actually do something productive on Saturday... like do our laundry... but *coughs* that didn't really happen.

Anyway, I don't know about Anne, but by Sunday I had no clean socks, so we went downstairs to the 'man cave' (the basement is a guys' floor in our dorm) to do some laundry. We figured it would go fast since we each only had one load, right? A good thing, since for reasons unknown the basement of Sullivan smells like a mixture of kitty litter, old gym socks, and horse manure.

Much to our dismay (or EXTREME IRRITATION), some guy had taken up three of the four washing machines doing like a BAJILLION loads of laundry. His basket was still sitting on the floor with unwashed clothes in it. Now, at this point Anne and I are getting pretty pissed, because, sure, we procrastinated our laundry, too, but it wasn't like we were completely monopolizing the laundry room, unlike SOME JERKS I KNOW (or don't know, actually.)

(Laundry-room-guy, if you're reading this, please know it's not a personal attack...)

One of his loads had 12 minutes left on it and the other two had 18, so I stuck my laundry in the machine that wasn't being used and Anne waited for the other one. When it was done we dumped the clothes in his basket on the floor and unloaded the wet stuff into his basket. (FYI, touching unknown persons' boxers, clean or not = gross.) Then we went and crashed on the conveniently-located couch in the laundry room and Anne revised her rhetoric paper while I laid the smackdown on virtual Heartless. (I LOVE Kingdom Hearts, in case you couldn't tell.)

Soon enough, laundry-room-guy came in after the last two loads he'd started were done. Anne and I pretty much glared at him whenever he wasn't looked. I mean, seriously, there were some major death-vibes going on in that room. I wouldn't be surprised if he had nightmares.

Randomness!!!

Anne says I'll never get married. I have no idea what she's talking about. I mean, I AM the most ridiculously good-looking, intelligent, witty, attractive person in the universe. Modest, too.

All joking aside, though, she's probably right. Her reasoning for this is the sheer amount of random crap I do all the time. Like our weekly trips to Blockbuster/Walmart. Anne always drives, and I do things like roll down the window and laugh hysterically as loud as I possible can in this crazy high-pitched voice whenever we drive by people. I've gotten some pretty crazy looks.

I also have this tendency to stare at people until they look at me and then give them a double thumbs-up. This includes but is not limited to friends, teachers, and complete strangers.

I'm also prone to randomly scream "SQUIRREL!" at any given moment.

The sad thing is, I'm not even the most random person I know. My friend Scott definitely wins that award. :)

Sleeptalk

After reading this post through, I realized it's really friggin long. Sorry. But bear with me, it's funny.

My brother grinds his teeth when he's asleep. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't read this, so it's safe to tell everyone. Teeheehee.) It's really obnoxious, like nails on a friggin chalkboard. He also has this tendency to wrap himself in so many blankets that he sweats straight through his PJs and then wakes up in the morning all like, "why the hell is it so hot in here?"

My dad snores, and my mom mumbles. You'd kind of figure that doing obnoxious things in our sleep runs in the Camillo family. And you'd be partially right. But from what I've heard (because I don't exactly watch myself sleep, duh) I don't snore, or sleeptalk, or grind my teeth, or sweat.

No, my obnoxious sleep problem actually occurs in the twenty or so minutes before I fall asleep. Apparently in that state of half-sleep when it actually feels like you're dreaming, I have this habit of saying really random and sometimes awkward things.

Take this as an example: the weekend before I moved out of Brownsburg, Caitie and I went to Newsong Festival to camp for a weekend and see various AWESOME bands in concert. I think Caitie's Facebook status at the time was 'Caitie Weaver no longer has a face, due to the massive amount of FACEMELT at the Skillet concert.' Anyway, the point is we spent two nights together in a tent. In the course of this trip I told Caitie:

1) that I had already taken the trash out. Which makes no sense, because there was no trash to take out, and taking out the trash isn't my job even at home. It's Logan's.

2) that I wanted a banana. This also makes no sense, seeing as which I HATE bananas. They're gross. And also the world's stupidest fruit.

3) that I 'wuvv you, Taitie'. Why the baby talk? Don't ask me.

The funniest part (in hindsight) is that I have absolutely no memory of saying any of these things. So in the morning when Caitie offered me a banana, I was like, "Um, I hate bananas," and she of course started cracking up.

Now, I thought I could avoid anyone else figuring out my little problem. Yes, I do have a roommate, but Aliena and I hardly ever go to bed at the same time, and when we do I make an effort to put headphones in and listen to Billy Joel or something, to prevent me from talking to her and saying something embarrassing.

This all caved when Emily and I spent the whole weekend in Anne's room (see 'Procrastination At Its Finest) in order to... well, actually I'm not sure what the point was, but it was fun. Apparently in the ten minutes or so before I fell asleep we started talking about squirrels (see 'SQUIRREL!') and I was complaining about the acorns that they kept throwing at me. I said something along the lines of 'I always figured squirrels would find me attractive' before falling asleep.

Again, I have no memory of this, and Anne and Emily won't stop giving me crap about it. I need to invest in Lunesta or something.

SQUIRREL!

I killed a squirrel once. It was a pretty traumatizing experience. I was driving on 267 (busiest street in Brownsburg) and I didn't have time to stop or room to swerve, so I tried to straddle it. Problem: I drive a PT Cruiser, which has like two inches of clearance, so I basically mangled the poor thing into oblivion with the various pieces/parts on the bottom of my car. I was on my way to work (at Donatos), and I was crying and crap (because I'm a softy, I know this surprises some of you) and my manager made fun of me, and then Dad brought me flowers to try and cheer me up (don't ask, it was Mom's idea).

Anyway, the point of this grisly story is that I used to think squirrels were small, fuzzy, adorable creatures that could sometimes be suicidal, but were generally sweet and cuddly. I think I may have watched one too many Disney movies as a child.

My current view of squirrels:

SPAWN OF THE DEVIL.

I am not kidding. They're trying to kill me, and their weapon of choice? Acorn fastballs. In the past week, I have been hit in the head by five (count them: five) flying/falling acorns. Every single time I hear the obnoxious chitter of squirrels. The first time, the squirrel in question scampered down his tree and glared at me.

Notice that these only count the times that I've been hit. Once we were coming back from lunch carrying dessert and an acorn fell into Emily's pudding. Which would have been insanely funny if I wasn't convince these squirrels were conspiring to assassinate me.

Don't mess with squirrels. DON'T DO IT.

Curse You, Walmart!

Anyone read the Inkheart trilogy? If not, what the hell is wrong with you? Those books are freakin' awesome. Anyway, I've read the whole thing but I only own the first two books, and so I've been meaning to buy Inkdeath for ages. The thing is, the only place I ever go shopping is Walmart, and they never have it. FAIL.

Why not go shopping somewhere else, you might ask? Well, because 1: I don't have my own car here (-glares at parents-), and 2: I don't actually know where a Barnes and Noble's or a Borders might be.

But Walmart sells Inkdeath online, so I figured I'd just order it with my EKU Colonel Card and, while I was at it, preorder Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days. 

Problem Numero Uno: even if I select one-day shipping, I won't get Kingdom Hearts until a week from today. Why is this? You got me. It's supposed to come out tomorrow, and if you add one day to that I should have it Wednesday, by my reckoning. Apparently no one's told Walmart that one day means ONE DAY, dammit.

Problem Numero Dos: Walmart.com doesn't have a 'pay with debit card' option. There went my strategy.

Solution? I'll just have to wait until Thursday when Emily makes a Walmart run to buy KH358. That is TWO WHOLE DAYS after it's supposed to come out, meaning all my friends have TWO WHOLE DAYS to get ahead of me. -cries-

Procrastination At Its Finest

For the past... (checks time) 26 hours, I have been holed up in a room with Anne, Emily, and (for some of it) Aliena.

The reason? Well, Anne now has a private room, so we decided to have a sleepover in Anne's room (yes, it's all of three feet away, but who's counting?) Emily, Anne and I watched a movie (Taken - I recommend it, Liam Neeson is a BEAST) and ate popcorn and hung out. And then today... we spent all day writing our four-page papers for Honors Rhetoric.

Well, let me rephrase that. Anne, Emily, and Aliena busted out their laptops and wrote papers.

I, however, curled up on Anne's couch with a box of Cheezits, a bag of gummi bears, a can of Mountain Dew, and Anne's Nintendo DS. Life is good. Aliena finished her paper and Anne and Emily are about halfway through theirs. I haven't even started mine. But who cares? I'm now halfway finished with Final Fantasy XII: Revenant Wings. (Yes, I'm a nerd. So shoot me.) Tomorrow I'll write my paper. And I'll get an A. I have this procrastination thing down.

Exhibit A: Two years ago in AP English we were supposed to read Machiavelli's The Prince. (Key word: 'supposed'.) The day before our big project was due, I realized I hadn't read it, and who was I kidding - I wasn't going to. I asked Becky for a summary, she gave it to me, I did the project, and got a 98%. Becky's grade? 94%.

Don't tell me I'm not a good student :)

Selfishness

At what point does someone say, "You know what, this situation is bad enough, let's not make it worse"? We've all known that person who gets in a bad situation, and then blames it on everyone but themselves, and makes big deals out of the things that don't matter.

I walk in to the bathroom to take a shower this morning and I realize someone is in there crying. You guys all know how bad I am with tears. I don't know what to say, I'd give whoever's crying anything they want. I'm going to be one of those horrible doormat mothers someday, because I just can't handle tears. They make me want to beat whoever caused them in the face until whoever's crying feels better.

Anyway, I ask her what's wrong, and she explains the situation. Basically there's this other girl who really wants to move (and it's for a legitimate reason - she's got a crazy ex with military training, I mean, I'd want to move, too) and was asking my friend if she would mind changing roommates. Now, my friend has already been through a load of crap over her own housing situation, so she asked if there was some way to resolve the situation without her having to move.

Personally, I think that's a perfectly fair request. I mean, I am of the opinion that it's completely okay to be selfish once in a while. You can't just let people walk all over you, you have to say what you want, and that's OKAY. My friend is TOTALLY JUSTIFIED in wanting to not move.

Well, this other girl's mother basically called my friend a bitch, and said something along the lines of "I hope something like this happens to you and you are dealing with someone just as obstinate as you are."

How the hell can someone say that? That mother should be ashamed of herself. Her daughter picked a stupid boyfriend and is paying for it. How is this my friend's fault? Instead of blaming my friend, that mother should be thinking, "What can I do to help," not, "Things aren't going my way so I'm going to make the situation EVEN WORSE."

Maybe you've noticed, but I'm a little pissed.

WHY?!?!?!

Let's just get this out there: I moved to Kentucky because EKU has a great forensic science program, the campus is gorgeous, and they paid me a s***load of money to come here. Yay scholarships.

That said, I did NOT come here because of my love for country music. In fact, I HATE country music. It makes me want to hurt small fuzzy animals. It makes me want to pull out an Uzi and go postal on the cafeteria. It makes my head want to explode.

There's a jukebox in the cafeteria at Upper Powell, right? At lunch they were playing a whole bunch of songs I LOVE, like 'Time of Your Life' and 'Smoke on the Water' and some other good stuff. And then...

Country music. Lots of it.

Where is the Three Days' Grace? Or Breaking Benjamin? Or Halestorm, or Red, or Skillet, or Chevelle, or any of the other bands I actually ENJOY? Oh, yeah, back in Indy where I left them. I'm in Kentucky now, y'all. Carrie Underwood and Garth Brooks for all.

SHOOT ME.

T-Minus 7 Days and Counting!!!!

No, this is not a crappy reference to The Ring. In case you didn't know I HATE that movie. Although with my long, almost-black hair, it's really fun to flip it over my face and freak people out. When I was in sixth grade I used to do that all the time.

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. The REAL topic of this post is KINGDOM HEARTS!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!

I know, I know, I'm obsessed. I can't help it. Those games are SO ADDICTING. I've beaten the first one at least ten times, and the second probably around thirty. I just can't stop. Riku, I love you! And the newest game is coming out NEXT TUESDAY!!!!! 

The only problem is, I don't have a Nintendo DS, which I kind of need... I saw one for really cheap on eBay, but it didn't have a charger. Sigh.

So, Anne, I'm sorry, but I may be stealing your DS occasionally in the near future... :)

Itchy Fingers

So today at dinner I had this song stuck in my head, (Debussy's Arabesque, my favorite classical piano solo EVER) and I was being typical nerd Joelle and playing piano on the table absentmindedly. The girls all made fun of me, and then Emily reminded me that there is a piano in the lobby of her dorm, which is right next to ours. So I ran back to the room, grabbed my books, and we all headed over to Emily's dorm for a free concert for everyone except me - which I was totally okay with, seeing as which I've been musically deprived ever since I moved in.

Then we get to her lobby to find that there's no bench for the piano - never a good sign - so I roll over a chair. And... ewwwwww. The piano's ridiculously out of tune, so badly it's disgusting, as if no one's played it for years. Which I suppose is possible. So then we ran around Emily's dorm looking for these practice rooms that were supposedly in the basement (a LIE, by the way), ended up getting locked in the basement, and had to go out a back door and circle around to the front.

All that, and I still haven't found a piano. -cries-

Don't Believe Their Lies!!!!!

I woke up this morning and got ready and checked the forecast for today, something I've been having to do a lot recently because it's rained a lot. And in case you didn't already know, I HATE RAIN. HATE IT. It's cold and wet and disgusting and gets EVERYWHERE and makes you feel like CRAP. So I've been carrying a hoodie around with me just in case. 

But this morning the forecast said 30% chance of showers for Richmond, Kentucky, so I didn't bring it. And walking out of chemistry, what happens? Oh, yeah. I GOT RAINED ON.

Meteorologists are LIARS. Do me a favor and send hate mail to the nearest weather station. And if you have the time, go stand outside their door with a pitchfork, a torch, and your local angry mob. DO IT. End the oppression! Accurate forecasts for all!!!!! YEAH!

These Heels Were Made For Walking

Anne and I woke up this morning and played a few rounds of Shanghai (which I lost, in case you were wondering) and then decided to go to lunch. Now, being girls (I know, some of you were wondering) we came to the conclusion that we felt like wearing heels today. I mean, we all have days like that. So we changed into heels and some cute tops and went to lunch feeling pretty awesome. 

Then on our way back from lunch I stopped to get my wallet out in front of our dorm, and in that not-even-two seconds I stopped, my heel went through the doormat and got stuck, and I pretty much felt like an idiot. So Anne started making fun of me, and I lifted up my heel to show her how skinny it is and try to justify myself.

She lifted hers up to compare, tripped over her own pant leg, and fell over into the wall.

It was pretty hilarious.

Card Shark

So Anne's been trying to teach me this game called Shanghai, which is a little like Phase 10, if you know that game. Basically the goal is to get rid of all your cards by combining them in runs or groups, and certain rounds require you to have certain combinations of cards. Then if you have cards left over when your opponent goes out, you get a certain number of points depending on the cards in your hand. It's golf scoring, so you don't want points.

The rules aren't important. What's important is that I totally suck at this game. Hard-core. I can win a round or two, but when I lose, I lose EPICLY. The first time we played I almost tripled Anne's score. The second time I won three rounds and thought I had it down, and then Anne came back and beat me by a hundred and ten points. Therefore I have decided I HATE THIS GAME.

Keep Your Friends Close...

I have the weirdest friends in the history of the universe. Currently we're crashing in my dorm room after walking through the rain. Rain on EKU, as we all learned today, tends to put the entire campus underwater. The result? Wading through eight-inch puddles to get from one place to another.

So as soon as we got back to my dorm room, I changed clothes into something dry, and turn around to see Emily and Anne, in my bunk bed, rocking back and forth trying to make it squeak.

Let's back up a bit. The beds in our room are bunked, and Aliena has the bottom bunk, so I sleep on top. The beds were designed to be bunked, so it worked out pretty nice, except you can't move at all without the beds creaking. A fact which Anne and Emily find hilariously funny.

Not A Dog Person

So for those of you that don't know, I've been doing yoga lately. Okay, laugh, I don't care, but it's actually really fun and pretty relaxing. It's all stretching, and breathing slow, and then at the end there's this ten minute period where we just lay there and zone out, so I always feel a little stoned after yoga. (No, I'm not on drugs, I'm just uber-relaxed.)

But today Anne and I went to yoga and the instructor - Michelle - apparently ate her Wheaties this morning, because she was like super-hyped up and we did all these ridiculous poses involving balancing in precarious positions while flexing your quads or some other random muscle, and it was HARD.

Plus there's this spawn-of-the-devil pose known as 'Downward-Facing Dog'. (Yes, they're all named like that - Cat, Cow, Tabletop, Child, Sphinx, Warrior 1, Warrior 2, etc.) Downward-Facing Dog involves putting your feet and hands on the floor and trying to make yourself a triangle with your hips up towards the ceiling. (Mind out of the gutter, boys.) Which is okay... once. Or twice. But we did it EIGHT times in one hour. And now my hips hurt. -cries-

Brownsburg Kids, Represent!

This past week Anne has been making fun of me for the stupid things I say. I have to explain to her that where I come from, they are NOT stupid. They are everyday terms. Here's the list of weird things Brownsburg kids say that no one else in the world understands.

SAUCE! (I'm pretty sure we all knew that one.)

Janky

Grody (that one might just be me. :)

Pwned

I might add more to this as the year goes on :) Anne thinks I'm crazy...

You Know You're Crazy When...

So I woke up this morning at eight, even though I didn't really want to, but there was no point in me laying around pretending to sleep anymore. My roommate Aliena was already gone, and I was like, aaaahhhhh, good morning world.

And the nice thing about the floor I live on is that there really aren't very many of us, and we all have different schedules, so usually you have the bathroom to yourself when you go to shower. The stories I heard about dorm bathrooms were usually 'you have to wake up at six if you want to shower'. Clearly whoever told me that didn't live in Sullivan Hall. I LOVE this place.

You guys all know how into music I am. Well, Anne and Emily and Aliena might not know, because I'm not doing music here. I HATE THAT. I'm already taking too many credit hours, and my scholarship won't cover any more, so I can't participate in a music group. HATE. So, being the choir-deprived diva I am, I started singing in the shower this morning.

No, I'm not lying. I thought I had the bathroom to myself, and I haven't been able to sing much this year, so I started singing 'Shoot the Moon' by Norah Jones. If you don't know it go look it up, it's pretty cool.

And then I hear footsteps, and someone goes, 'Oh, I love Norah Jones.'

I was SOOOOO embarrassed. I mean, who sings in the shower? Really? Besides me, but we already knew I was insane...

BHS, I Love You.

I think before this moment I have never really appreciated just how wonderful Brownsburg High School was. Really, that place was friggin awesome. Honors classes, I mean. Yeah, I complained about Honors and AP workloads, but regular placement would have made me want to shoot myself in the face.

How did I discover this? It's called CHE 115. General Placement Chemistry Lab.

Let's start with my lab partner. We'll call her... Agnes. Yeah, I like that.

First day of lab: 

Agnes: Oh, I'm really good at chemistry, so if you have any questions just ask me.

Me: ...Um... sure. What year are you?

Agnes: Well... technically I'm still a first year.

Me: ...

Agnes: But this is my third year at EKU. My first year I partied too much. And second year I dropped out.

Me: (and she wanted me to ask HER if I had any questions?)

Agnes: What dorm are you in?

Me: Sullivan. The Honors dorm.

Agnes: ...Oh.

Then she proceeded to tell me that she didn't buy a lab notebook because she never used one in the past. And who took all the notes? Yours truly. Oh, and, by the way, could I please email her the lab report? Since I had the only copy of notes.

So I said, 'sure, what's your email address?'

And this week when we got to lab, she was like, 'you forgot to send me the lab report.'

Oh. Yeah. 'Forgot.' My bad.

Me: Did you buy a lab notebook?

Agnes: Um... not yet. But I will.

So I tore out a couple pages from mine and handed them to her. TAKE YOUR OWN DAMN NOTES. (No, I didn't say that. But I wanted to.)

And this week? She's writing her own lab report.

Sigh. Stupid people irritate me. 

P.C.? Who, me?

Because this is the Dorm Room RANT and not the Dorm Room Politically Correct Speech, there are certain people that I will probably be talking about in this blog because I don't like them. If its a person I don't like, their name in my blog will NOT be their real name, because I just don't want to mess with it. If you see a name you don't recognize and just can't contain your curiosity, for goodness sakes just ask me. Text me, email me, I don't care. I won't post their real names.

Besides, you know what they say about curiosity.

Meow.

I Guess I'm Now the Class Clown.

Well, I'm new at this whole blogging thing, which should come as no surprise to those of you who know me. I mean, I didn't get a Facebook until last month, and I was never into the MySpace thing. My friends had cell phones four or five years before I did. I'm just totally, wholly, and completely behind the times.

But the other day I said something about someone making my day, and my friend Anne said, "Alright! Because whenever Joelle's in a good mood, everyone's in a good mood."

My first thought: Awww, that's so sweet.

Then: ...what am I supposed to say now?

Then everyone in on the conversation decided that I was in general a pretty funny person, just because I have this slightly twisted, random outlook on life. So I figured I'd start a blog. And within 30 seconds of me posting that I was thinking about blogging on Facebook, I had three people say, "I'd read it!"

So here it is: the Dorm Room Rant.