One Thing You Should Definitely Know About Me is that I Am Super Irrationally Afraid of Bears

That title? Yeah.. it's a whole sentence. And the general  gist of this blog, in a round about sort of way. But you should definitely read the first paragraph about Spring Break. I think it has some quality "intelligence for your life", to quote Mr. John Tesh. 

Anyway.. it's been a while since my last post. Apologies, it's Spring Break. I have two things running through my head about Spring Break - 1) Spring Break?! It's still Winter, bozos! Frostbite? It's not nearly as sexy as tanned, glistening skin. I suppose my choice of Spring Break destination would make a difference - I did come home, which is Northeast Kansas.. and it's like 40 degrees colder. This is not an exaggeration. Anyway, shivering on Spring Break? yeah. not cool. Except, it is very cool.. but not cool in the "hey man, that is super legit!" definition of cool. No, it would have to be the "oh - it's still al little cool outside, even though I am already wearing three parkas, six sweaters, and nine pairs of long underwear." definition. Yup. Gonna go with that one. 2) This particular break needs to be renamed. Instead of Spring Break, it needs to be called "Spring Super Productive Being An Adult All the Time Week". This week is chock full of things that I want to do, have to do, and need to do.. several things involving the wreck and switching cars over, getting new phones, switching cell providers, and that is only the first three hours! I kind of can't wait to get back to school and slow down again.. 

But seriously.. the reason you came.. the title. Oh, and you get a gold star if you made it this far, I am having an ADD attack this morning. 

(Imagine Maury Ballstein from Zoolander when he sings that bopbadabaabopbabopbadabaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa to tell Derek that Mugatu wants Zoolander for his new campaign..)

I have found my future husband. Yes. Seriously. Click the link. Then come back so I can tell you why this gentleman is perfect for me. 

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/6jEM7J/bancroft.berkeley.edu/Exhibits/bearinmind/themes/captivity/06large.html

This man is perfect for me for several reasons. I will now list them.

1. His beard. It is legit. I like facial hair. A lot.

2. He knows his gun safety. He isn't flailing that rifle around so anyone can accidentally get shot. Nope. He's cradling it, and made sure the muzzle was pointing up and away from mostly anybody. If someone ends up on the business end of that gun, it's their own fault.

3. He's got sparkling eyes. 'Nuf said.

4. He lives in California. Yes, it would be tough to get used to going to the beach every day, but I think I could manage.

5. He looks to be around 6' tall. This is an important factor - I don't want to be taller than him when I wear my super cute heels!

6. His last name is Kinman, my initials don't have to change. I like my initials.

7. (this one is the most important) HE KILLS BEARS!

I don't know how or when I became afraid of bears, I just always have been. We (as a family) camp a lot in Colorado. I can remember seeing them since I was little and having to put things away and seeing tents mangled while people were gone, but I don't think that's what it is. I would like to conjecture that my fear of bears is my older brother's fault. We would be on some remote four wheel drive trail, the only people around for years, and inevitably, we would have to pee. In that case, he would find a tree and I would attempt to find a semi-comfortable log. My older brother always finished before me, and would always, ALWAYS sneak up the mountain a bit, then come running down screaming "BEAR!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!!!!" This usually meant that I would sit for approximately 3 seconds trying to decide whether to pull up my pants and then run, or risk falling down the mountain because my pants were still around my ankles to reach the safety of the Jeep before the bear ate me. Pants around my ankles, arms flailing, I would get closer to the car and hear my parents scolding my brother. "Brad, you have to stop that. She is terrified of bears. You know that." This was the opportunity to pull up my pants and face my family with a shred of dignity................

Anyway, the second picture of this guy? Not only does he kill bears, he then makes furniture out of them! He kills bears AND is handy around the house? AND I can sit on one of my irrational fears?!

Now, I just have to figure out how to build a time machine. Stupid Laws of Physics. I bet Seth could build me one out of bear intestines. :)

Levar Burton

So, I am a huge nerd. Have been for a long time.

Especially when I was like 7. My two favorite TV shows were

          1. Reading Rainbow
          2. Star Trek : TNG

Now that I'm a grown up, I realize that actors can be in more than one show at a time - especially ones that involve a tiny cross section of common viewers, like Reading Rainbow and Star Trek.

I was in that small cross section of common viewers, and I will conjecture that is why I am an emotional wreck. Imagine, if you will for a minute with me, a 7 year old me. I was super cute - had HUGE glasses. I had old lady hair, and thought I was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

It was a daily ritual to come home from school, watch Reading Rainbow, go play outside, possibly do my homework, and then in the evenings, watch Star Trek, MacGyver, and Night Court with my dad.

The first time I saw Levar on Star Trek, it didn't even cross my mind that this man had been reading me books mere hours before. A few days later, I was up to my nightly routine and noticed he looked familiar. All of a sudden, my 7 year old worlds came crashing down around me! Holy crap! How could this man read me books and then make it to the Delta galaxy to kick some alien booty? This. Wasn't. Possible.

I had to get to the bottom of it.

I asked my dad about it and he said that the man's name was Levar Burton and that he was an actor who played multiple roles. It still didn't make sense to me (I've never been quick on the uptake), so I pouted.

The next day, I asked my grandpa who merely suggested that while it was the same man in real life, the real life man was actually magical, and he did actually kick alien booty. It all made sense.

I still firmly believe that Levar Burton is a magical fairy creature, simply waiting for another chance to climb aboard the Voyager and save us from impending doom.
Or, he could just read me a picture book. :)

Dude.

I have the most amazing friends and family ever, I should start by saying that. My parents are wonderful, my siblings are my friends, my not dead grandparents do a great job of being grandparents (clearly the dead ones can't do a very good job.. the chocolate they give would probably taste like mold or something even grosser..), my extended family is amazing. My friends, who do not have to put up with me, but do are equally as amazing.

Can I remind you that I said before that my parents are amazing? Keep this in mind for the rest of this post....

My mom is a nurse. Has been for 30 years now. She's a very good nurse - she has her Master's degree in it, loves teaching people how to be nurses, loves helping people. The woman has won awards and been invited into honor societies and is amazing.

I want to know how. When, as children, something happened to us, she had the bedside manner of an angry badger. Let me give you an example... when I was little and thought I needed a band aid (band aids magically make things better, right? duh.), my mom would always make sure I was bleeding first. And if I wasn't, by the time she determined I might need a band aid, I had lost a pint of blood.

OR here is an example of a conversation about how I feel like crap.....

"mom, I don't feel good."


"what does it feel like?"


"it feels like there are 7000 little men in my body jumping on my organs, causing them to rupture, bleed profusely, and possibly causing permanent damage."


"you're fine. go play."


Yes, I have a flair for the dramatic, but what if there really *had* been 7000 little men inside me causing permanent damage? She would have felt like crap - and a different kind of crap.. probably mostly.

That would have been a great front page for the National Enquirer, though

"Beautiful Young Life Smushed Because of 7000 Tiny Little Men Causing Permanent Damage and Flair for the Dramatic"


It would have been the most popular edition of the Enquirer. Ever.

You bet. :)

Is This What Being a Grown Up is Like?

Can I make a confession? I have yet to sleep past 9 o'clock a.m. this week.

You might be thinking to yourself - "wait a second! This kid, just a week ago, was talking about how she could sleep all day. I feel shammed, lied to, schemed.. I feel like I invested all my money with Bernie Madoff! (too soon for that one? apologies if so..)"

In response to the imaginary thoughts I just placed in your head, I must say that I agree. I am working to correct these atrocities. Here are activities that I have been doing to wear myself out - both during the day (so I am more tired at night) and at night (so I can force myself to stay up, thus hopefully sleeping in later):

1. Homework. Yes, I don't normally do it, really. :) My grades are usually made immaculate by a little thing I like to call 'Participation Points'.

2. Run around like I am crazy. sample thought.. "huh.. Big Lots does not in fact get new stuff in on the hour every hour. Good. To. Know."

3. Go to the lake. There are several around here and when I drive there, I inevitably get out and proceed back to #2, minus Big Lots, plus imaginary fish.

4. Avoid doing laundry at all costs. I would say I am pretty successful at this. My roommate would probably agree, right after she barfs.


This list could go on for a while. Suffice it to say that I am trying to get back to *my* normal Circadian Rhythm. It's just not working. Suggestions?

If not, I'm headed to the lake. Blake the Fish and I had a fight today and I must go apologize. :)

Vamlumtime's Is Serious Times.

There was a time in my life when I wasn’t clumsy. Two times, in fact. Well, more like one and a half.

The first time was when I was like 6 and in gymnastics.  This is the half time – because I was still pretty clumsy.

The full time I wasn’t clumsy was my freshman and sophomore years of college when I was in Show Choir. You can’t be clumsy and be in Show Choir. It.  Just.  Doesn’t.  Work.

But, now, I have been away from gymnastics and dancing for an exorbitant amount of time.  I still remember steps, but can’t execute them as awesomely as I used to.

I also have awkward limbs. I feel like I have freakishly long ape arms and I have pretty long legs. This is important for the next part of the story. Oh, and also? A couple of weekends ago, I got this awesome pair of new shoes.. huge platforms with a 5” heel. Oh.. I forgot another thing you should probably know - I somehow miraculously ended up on the Homecoming committee at my school. I don’t really know how it happened, but I had to go to the Homecoming dance.

The day was crazy busy. I started super early in the morning dealing with wreck stuff. I had to help a professor with a mailing, go decorate for the homecoming dance, help with a concession stand, then get cute, and finally, go host the dance.

All the stuff before getting cute and going to the dance is irrelevant to this, so we will fast forward through it. I put on my special event perfume, put on my super cute crazy platforms, and headed to the dance. When people started coming, we were having a decent time. I was looking super cute, and having fun. The DJ comes in and starts playing music that I can’t stand, so I decide to go outside. As I head outside the building, in my super cute platforms, I miss a stair and overstepped the next one.

I freaking fell down the entire staircase in front of the building where the Dance was. Seriously.  Did a flip. I hear it was legendary? I have several concrete kisses on several parts of my body. It’s pretty legit.

Long story short? Concrete makes a pretty terrible Valentine.  :)

Temple of Death

dude.. I was so not made for dorm life.

We got a new podmate. This fact in itself is fine. In fact, it was quite inevitable. The only struggle I have with this new podmate? She has people over till 3 a.m. Again, in itself, a fine fact.. we're all grown ups. However, when these people are insanely loud, it kind of sucks. Especially when it's like 3 nights in a row and I've had a rough three days already. It kind of sucks to finally get to sleep at 2:30, only to be woken at 3 by Flava Flav's son/way younger brother/some kind of kin or the guy who is trying WAY too hard to impress this girl. This is a sample of a typical conversation I wake up to.. (reenactments. actual events may vary..)

Flav: OMG, boooyyyyyyzzzzzzzzzzzzz, we are getting sooo wasted at 3 in the morning! We must be hardcore gangsters. For real. 

Podmate: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Flav! You're so funny, I am going to laugh loud enough that people in Chicago can hear me! 

Boy In Love With Podmate: (he has to yell over both of them..) YOU'RE SO PRETTY! I JUST WANT TO HOLD YOU! WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND? I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER, I SWEAR! SERIOUSLY! YOU ARE THE MOST AMAZING...........................

Long story short, in order to get to the police station in a timely manner (to file a report for aforementioned wreck), I had to get up at nearly the butt crack of dawn this morning - meaning I got like thirty seconds *total* sleep. This is not a positive situation for anyone who might have possibly interacted with me. In fact, there might be a maimed Kum-N-Go clerk somewhere.. I can't account for my actions. 

I. Needed. Caffeine. 

I decided to purchase one of my favorite energy drinks - Monster Nitrous. This is normally a very enjoyable experience for my life. I drink something that tastes roughly like Surge (Mindy cred if you remember how Surge tastes) and I get to be a much less poopy version of myself. 

This time, however, I decided to look into the can. Holy crap! It's lime freaking green. Like as green as I imagine leprechaun pee would be. Greener than my Surge pee! 

My friend Susan commented on how fast I was drinking it, and deciding not to bite her head off (the caffeine was beginning to make me semi-sane again), I said "my body is a temple. Of noxious chemicals." Then, never quite knowing when to stop (I think that switch in my brain is broken..), I took this train of thought to the seven hundred millionth degree and said "my body? is a temple. of death."

know what's awesome? It's 10 hours later and I still can't sit still. 

:)

I Want My Life, not This Stupid One.

I have a confession to make. One of the side effects of being as awesome as I am? I end up being a super spoiled princess. I don't like hearing the word "no" - it's generally not in my vocabulary. Yes, I am smart about what I ask for, but I am also super charming (and generally much more humble than this..), so I usually get what I want.

This probably goes back to a time when I was rather small. My parents both worked early in the morning, so I got to hang out with my grandparents till it was time to go to preschool. When I decided to wake up (see.. waking up whenever I feel like it has been a part of my life for a long time :).. ), my grandpa would inevitably ask me what I would like to eat for breakfast. Most of the time, he would give me options, and most of the time I picked an english muffin with orange marmalade, or biscuits and gravy without sausage (he always made it without sausage for me.. I have always been super spoiled..). One morning, however, I saw that my grandma had made a chocolate cake the night before. My grandma's chocolate cake is legendary. Google it, I dare you. People have died trying to get it. Anyway, she had made a chocolate cake in her special chocolate cake pan, and I spied it. I decided to go waaaaaaaaaay out on a limb and tell my grandpa something I had never thought before.

Grandpa " good morning, sweetheart! what would you like for breakfast this morning?"

Amy "chocolate cake and Pepsi?"

Grandpa "coming up!"

no. joke.

I think he created a monster.

A super fun, fabulous monster with killer accessories and a cute car.

oh, and about the title? I got in a car wreck and don't have my super cute car and my job had to change. So this spoiled princess is doing the equivalent of stamping her feet (that may or may not have actually happened several times tonight) and throwing a tantrum. I'll keep you posted.. :)