Monday, July 18, 2011
Kids Say The Darnest Things.
So, a few months ago, I was tutoring/volunteering at an elementary school; reading to kids, helping them with reading and comprehension.
One of my students had to make up a fairy tale with a moral. This is her story.
One of my students had to make up a fairy tale with a moral. This is her story.
Once upon a time there was a monkey, an elephant, a pig, and a fox disguised as a pig. One day it was the pig’s birthday, and they all decided to have a party at the movies!
While at the theater, the fox’s disguise was accidently ripped off to reveal his fox face. All the other animals were in shock, and chased him around the theater.
When the animals caught the fox, they beat him up, burned him alive, and cut off his head.
The animals used the fox’s head to eat their popcorn while enjoying their movie.
What was the moral..?
My reaction?
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
I Thought You Understood What This Was.
Guess not.
Pardon the pun, but I'm feeling totally burnt out.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Happy Chinese New Year!
So, normally, I have no idea when the Chinese New Year is. However, I recently discovered that it is the year of the "Metallic Rabbit", and me being a rabbit and all, I thought this was awesome.
Apparently, from February 3rd, 2011 to January 20th, 2012, "Rabbits" are supposed to be getting a lot of luck.
I'm not sure if I find this true, but I'm really really hoping. (Or possibly hopping..?)
I have two cats. One named Franny, the other Jacques. Both girls. TW also has a cat, Sky, or Kitten, or Sky Cat (AaahhAaaahhhAaaahhh (Always Sunny In Philadelphia reference)).
So, lately, Jacques has been waking me up every morning by softly putting her wet, cold little nose on my eye lid while I'm sleeping.
It's better than her usual paw-to-face regime that suggests:
Either one is pretty irritating because well, I'd like to sleep.
But she's cute. And soft. And easy to forgive.
Anyway, so my morning consisted of me waking up to a giant cat face, coughing a lot (I've been sick for the past couple days), and then I sneeze enough to blow my nose for what seems like an hour.
Then I proceed to look in the mirror and gaze at how old I look, especially while being sick. Then I go sit next to the space heater in the living room while downing medicine, and water.
Today I had tea instead of coffee.
After a while, I have to work. (Isn't this fun??!)
I actually rarely work at the game store, so I usually like the drive, but I had to rush because I was running late.
I'm almost there, it's only a couple lights away, when someone just cuts me off. And it's one of those gradual cut-offs too, where they just kind of mosey on into your lane. Fucking asshole.
As I'm glaring at their back windshield, I notice that something is scribbled in white and pink paint.
"Honk If Your Sexy".
I think, Hell yeah. I feel mad sexy. I'm so honking.
I reread it.
"Honk ie Your Sexy".
Now, are they referring to someone named "Honkie", you think?
I don't know. I was pretty tired.
Either way I didn't honk.
And they used the wrong "your".
And why am I still awake at 3 in the morning..?
Apparently, from February 3rd, 2011 to January 20th, 2012, "Rabbits" are supposed to be getting a lot of luck.
I'm not sure if I find this true, but I'm really really hoping. (Or possibly hopping..?)
I have two cats. One named Franny, the other Jacques. Both girls. TW also has a cat, Sky, or Kitten, or Sky Cat (AaahhAaaahhhAaaahhh (Always Sunny In Philadelphia reference)).
So, lately, Jacques has been waking me up every morning by softly putting her wet, cold little nose on my eye lid while I'm sleeping.
It's better than her usual paw-to-face regime that suggests:
Either one is pretty irritating because well, I'd like to sleep.
But she's cute. And soft. And easy to forgive.
Anyway, so my morning consisted of me waking up to a giant cat face, coughing a lot (I've been sick for the past couple days), and then I sneeze enough to blow my nose for what seems like an hour.
Then I proceed to look in the mirror and gaze at how old I look, especially while being sick. Then I go sit next to the space heater in the living room while downing medicine, and water.
Today I had tea instead of coffee.
After a while, I have to work. (Isn't this fun??!)
I actually rarely work at the game store, so I usually like the drive, but I had to rush because I was running late.
I'm almost there, it's only a couple lights away, when someone just cuts me off. And it's one of those gradual cut-offs too, where they just kind of mosey on into your lane. Fucking asshole.
As I'm glaring at their back windshield, I notice that something is scribbled in white and pink paint.
"Honk If Your Sexy".
I think, Hell yeah. I feel mad sexy. I'm so honking.
I reread it.
"Honk ie Your Sexy".
Now, are they referring to someone named "Honkie", you think?
I don't know. I was pretty tired.
Either way I didn't honk.
And they used the wrong "your".
And why am I still awake at 3 in the morning..?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thank You For Being A Friend. Travel Down The Road And Back Again. Your Heart Is True. You're A Pal And A Confidant.
From time to time, more frequently this year, I sleep on our couch. I'm not sure why I do it. I guess it's a small space, so when my cat doesn't sleep directly against me, I feel like, at least it's something (ie. the back of the couch).
Anyway, for my birthday this year, Sly gave me four Golden Girls pillows, each with the face of one of the characters. I almost always end up sleeping on Blanche's face.
Last night, after having some pizza and watching The Catherine Tate Show, I suppose I passed out curled up on the couch, yet again, probably around midnight; Blanche's face pressed up against mine.
With that, I had an extremely realistic dream where I was sitting upright on the couch, and all four of the golden girls were casually sitting next to me, drinking tea, or coffee.
I was shocked, but comforted. All of them, even Sophia, gave me concerned looks.
It was like I was in an actual episode of The Golden Girls.
Blanche, who was crouched over the side of the couch, came around to sit directly next to me, and grabbed my hands.
I actually can't remember a lot of what was said except the occasional, "Honey", or "Sugah", or a clever quip made by Sophia or Dorothy.
Blanche and Dorothy tried to give me life advice, while Sophia said how absolutely absurd that was.
Rose, for the most part, was pretty silent.
It was still comforting.
It made me think of my Oma.
I really miss her.
Anyway, for my birthday this year, Sly gave me four Golden Girls pillows, each with the face of one of the characters. I almost always end up sleeping on Blanche's face.
Last night, after having some pizza and watching The Catherine Tate Show, I suppose I passed out curled up on the couch, yet again, probably around midnight; Blanche's face pressed up against mine.
With that, I had an extremely realistic dream where I was sitting upright on the couch, and all four of the golden girls were casually sitting next to me, drinking tea, or coffee.
I was shocked, but comforted. All of them, even Sophia, gave me concerned looks.
It was like I was in an actual episode of The Golden Girls.
Blanche, who was crouched over the side of the couch, came around to sit directly next to me, and grabbed my hands.
I actually can't remember a lot of what was said except the occasional, "Honey", or "Sugah", or a clever quip made by Sophia or Dorothy.
Blanche and Dorothy tried to give me life advice, while Sophia said how absolutely absurd that was.
Rose, for the most part, was pretty silent.
It was still comforting.
It made me think of my Oma.
I really miss her.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I Would Totally Want Elvis To Be My Landlord. If By 'Land', You Mean My Vagina.
I've been trying to fill my days with activities that require me to be around at least one other person every day. It's the whole loneliness thing again.
So, TW and I decided that we would spend an entire day of "adventuring", which was really us going to Venice and walking around the beach while looking at all the artwork.
Before we left, I was painting the Jay post, and still had some wet paint on the table. Without even thinking about it, I sat right on it in my black work pants to put on my shoes.
I spent the next couple hours trying to scrub the white out.
And after a couple hours of trying, it faded enough where I wasn't satisfied, but too apathetic to continue.
After a long, and wonderful time at the beach, we decided to head home when we hit traffic on the 405 (like always).
TW has a bit of road rage, especially toward those laid back Californian drivers, and every so often would mutter some sort of obscenity.
A lot of cars were weaving in and out of the lanes, which only caused more traffic, and then we hit the bottle neck, and everyone to our right had to merge over.
TW slammed on the brakes, and was agitated for 10 minutes or so before yelling,
"SUCK A BAG OF DICKS!"
I got so confused (as you see in the video, so was Louis CK) when this happened. It's not the first time I heard this phrase before, but I never really thought about it either.
I asked her,
"A bag..? Or a sack..?"
To which she replied,
"Does it matter?"
I was very surprised!
Of course it matters, TW.
Of course.
It's the difference between a grocery bag that fits some essential items, and a human sized potato sack.
Which would you rather suck?
Neither.
But if you had to choose?
The grocery bag. Of course.
*Side note*
For those of you who don't know who Louis CK is; he's a comedian.
He's a pretty vulgar comedian actually, who I didn't like for a very long time because I thought he was too offensive for me.
As I got older, I realized that being offensive is one of the best ways to live, so I gave him another shot.
So, TW and I decided that we would spend an entire day of "adventuring", which was really us going to Venice and walking around the beach while looking at all the artwork.
Before we left, I was painting the Jay post, and still had some wet paint on the table. Without even thinking about it, I sat right on it in my black work pants to put on my shoes.
I spent the next couple hours trying to scrub the white out.
And after a couple hours of trying, it faded enough where I wasn't satisfied, but too apathetic to continue.
After a long, and wonderful time at the beach, we decided to head home when we hit traffic on the 405 (like always).
TW has a bit of road rage, especially toward those laid back Californian drivers, and every so often would mutter some sort of obscenity.
A lot of cars were weaving in and out of the lanes, which only caused more traffic, and then we hit the bottle neck, and everyone to our right had to merge over.
TW slammed on the brakes, and was agitated for 10 minutes or so before yelling,
"SUCK A BAG OF DICKS!"
I got so confused (as you see in the video, so was Louis CK) when this happened. It's not the first time I heard this phrase before, but I never really thought about it either.
I asked her,
"A bag..? Or a sack..?"
To which she replied,
"Does it matter?"
I was very surprised!
Of course it matters, TW.
Of course.
It's the difference between a grocery bag that fits some essential items, and a human sized potato sack.
Which would you rather suck?
Neither.
But if you had to choose?
The grocery bag. Of course.
*Side note*
For those of you who don't know who Louis CK is; he's a comedian.
He's a pretty vulgar comedian actually, who I didn't like for a very long time because I thought he was too offensive for me.
As I got older, I realized that being offensive is one of the best ways to live, so I gave him another shot.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
You've Blinded Me With Science!
So, to continue with my introductory:
Jay.
Jay is majoring in Physics. She's really ridiculously intelligent, and she's gorgeous to boot, so to be a bit intimidated by her is an understatement.
She is also a huge Detroit Red Wings fan. Her and TW, but more Jay. She even has an app on her phone whenever there is a game going on, just to know the scores.
The greatest thing about her, however, (other than finally convincing her that pizza is not evil) is her love of really horrible 90s TV shows.
No offense to anyone who was obsessed with these shows, but I was never really into teen dramas when I was a kid.
I liked, you know, Rocko, Kablam!, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch.
Beverly Hills 90210 was never on when I was growing up. No one in my family watched it.
But when Jay drinks enough, it's most likely you'll hear a thing or two about how wonderful Brandon Walsh is.
For those of you who do not know, Brandon Walsh is a fictional character on Beverly Hills 90210. He's played by the actor Jason Priestley.
He's one of the two "heartthrobs" that makes out with someone new, I swear, almost every episode. He's also the supposed "twin brother" to Brenda Walsh, played by Shannon Daughtery, who is dating the other "heartthrob", Dylan, until they break up in the 2nd season so he could be with Kelly! Oh god!
Yeah.
TW and Jay are subjecting me to 90210.
And I've come to the conclusion, the only amazing thing in the entire show is The Peach Pit.
Why doesn't this wonderful establishment exist? I want a Nat that I can talk to when I eat my fries at the local diner.
What the fuck, LA. You're supposed to be like the TV.
Jay.
Jay is majoring in Physics. She's really ridiculously intelligent, and she's gorgeous to boot, so to be a bit intimidated by her is an understatement.
She is also a huge Detroit Red Wings fan. Her and TW, but more Jay. She even has an app on her phone whenever there is a game going on, just to know the scores.
The greatest thing about her, however, (other than finally convincing her that pizza is not evil) is her love of really horrible 90s TV shows.
No offense to anyone who was obsessed with these shows, but I was never really into teen dramas when I was a kid.
I liked, you know, Rocko, Kablam!, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch.
Beverly Hills 90210 was never on when I was growing up. No one in my family watched it.
But when Jay drinks enough, it's most likely you'll hear a thing or two about how wonderful Brandon Walsh is.
For those of you who do not know, Brandon Walsh is a fictional character on Beverly Hills 90210. He's played by the actor Jason Priestley.
He's one of the two "heartthrobs" that makes out with someone new, I swear, almost every episode. He's also the supposed "twin brother" to Brenda Walsh, played by Shannon Daughtery, who is dating the other "heartthrob", Dylan, until they break up in the 2nd season so he could be with Kelly! Oh god!
Yeah.
TW and Jay are subjecting me to 90210.
And I've come to the conclusion, the only amazing thing in the entire show is The Peach Pit.
Why doesn't this wonderful establishment exist? I want a Nat that I can talk to when I eat my fries at the local diner.
What the fuck, LA. You're supposed to be like the TV.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Pretty Pretty Please. Don't You Ever Ever Feel. Like You're Less Than. Fucking Perfect.
So, obviously, I have never had a webcomic in my entire life. I have no idea what to draw next, or if I should introduce anyone mainly because:
1. My life is not that terribly interesting. This is more of a therapeutic experiment than an entertaining gesture. I am not a comedian, and I am not here to amuse. (Insert Goodfellas quote here)
2. If I purposely go out and try to make my life funnier, or awkward, I'd feel like that would be cheating.
3. Making up things is not what this blog is about. See above.
I figure the only way to start, instead of just throwing randomness at you, is to introduce each person in my life, nicknames assigned, along with a story.
The stories will most likely be the most recent events.
With that said, (or written), drumroll please!
My first VICTIM(s) is/are:
My roommates/friends/people I hang out with the majority of the time. (Sorry guys.)
TW and Jay are my roomies and great friends. We moved to LA back in August from the midwest. They're both from Michigan, and have been friends since middle school.
TW and I have been friends since I was 15 years old/about 9 years now (fucking scary realization). Jay and I met at the beginning of last year.
I've never had a whole lot of experience living with girls other than my sisters.
When I was 18, I started living with my best friend, Kris, and then the Ex, who was just a friend back then, moved in with us. After that, I lived with him, the Ex, for about 4 1/2 to 5 years.
I digress. That's an entirely different story.
Living with TW and Jay has definitely made me embrace my femininity, and has helped with the loneliness in my life.
TW is a writer, and English major. And even though she puts on a front, breaking down her shell is very difficult, but warming. She is also absolutely, hopelessly obsessed, and in love with Elvis Presley.
She and I are in the same boat when it comes to how our lives are right now (except for the whole boy situation), so we recently decided to go out to a bar we had never been to, but I was always really interested in. It was British themed, and if you ask anyone, they will tell you how much I am in love with the English, so it was a trip that was long overdue.
Unfortunately, I hadn't met one Englishman the entire night, but my loneliness, sadness, and the small amount of alcohol in my system dominated my emotions.
I was determined to find another boy; someone to make me feel like I was attractive, interesting, and significant. On the prowl.
When I found a guy I thought was pretty attractive, things started to turn out well!
And then I was horrified.
Looks like I won't be doing that again for a while.
To make things worse, I woke up the next morning thinking about Freckles (aka the boy), of course.
Wonderful.
Trying to keep that optimistic attitude.
PS. Sorry for the wrinkles! I'll try to flatten my papers next time I use the water colors!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Moving On.
I know that this thing with the boy isn't working out. Him and Prim just went on a vacation, and I just keep thinking, Cupcake. You're not worth it.
And then I start feeling like Bridget Jones.
Thinking that I will die "fat and alone, and then eventually be eaten by wild dogs".
Or maybe I should just get a puppy...
Either way, it's definitely time to stop feeling like shit all the time, and move on. Have a good cry, and just move on.
And then I start feeling like Bridget Jones.
Thinking that I will die "fat and alone, and then eventually be eaten by wild dogs".
Or maybe I should just get a puppy...
Either way, it's definitely time to stop feeling like shit all the time, and move on. Have a good cry, and just move on.
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