Smells That Remind Me Of....

My favorite smell EVER is cinnamon. It's phenomenal. I could eat cinnamon on anything. Even a spoon. Did you know it's supposedly impossible (or at least very, very hard) to swallow a teaspoon of cinnamon?? Well, I have a teaspoon next to me and a timer nearby, here goes nothing...

First Impression: Mmmm, but then very dry... not too spicy yet

30 Seconds: Slowly becoming moist, but verrrry slowly, I can kind of chew it

1 Minute: Getting Spicier, but bearable. Took my first small swallow, and its getting remarkably easy.

1 Minute, 18 Seconds: Done, no pain, my mouth isn't even dry . . . hmm.

Okay, a bit disappointing, maybe it was a tablespoon? Out of cinnamon for today, but I'll have to try it sometime.

Something That Might Seem Gross.

I think people wash their clothes too often. Put yourself in a judgement-free zone for a moment... You wear a tshirt one day. A few days later you want to wear it again but it hasn't been washed. You didn't really sweat in it, it's just been worn once. It doesn't smell bad, but you also wore it for a whole day. What would YOU do? I would throw it on! People hold their standards of clean too high. Here are some of my general rules about wearing clothes more than once.


Sweatshirts - Smell it. As long as it smells lovely and fresh, wear it until you spill something on it (I do this often so I've never managed to wear one over a week... for all I know that could be the max)


Shirts - If they're fitted, you should probably only wear it once since its hugging your skin. But if it's a more baggy or loose shirt,and it still smells peachy, why not wear it again? Warning: you may be judged if you wear the same shirt two days in a row . . .


Jeans - Every day for a week. I do laundry once a week. I have two pairs of jeans. Wear a pair every other week, laundry is easy!


Socks - If they're very thick, wear em twice, if they're normal socks, they're probably smelly smelly smelly, so wash them!


Undies - Once time use only. That's all. No substitutions, exchanges or refunds. 


Bras - Honestly, wear it until it smells... unless you decide to sweat buckets one day. Bras stay clean enough. (but wash the sports bras often!)


Pajamas - If you shower in the morning, who really cares? Wear mud caked pjs if that keeps you comfortable. If you shower before you sleep, keep your pjs fresh!


Skirts - These can be worn soooo many times, at least for me. I wear my skirts over either tights or leggings, so they don't really ever touch my skin.


That's pretty much every secret I've ever had..... Stay clean!





Disclaimer: Please don't start smelling me all the time, I promise I'm clean.

Calcium.

Milk tastes warm. No, I didn't grow up drinking milk that had been sitting out until it reached room temperature... It just tastes warm. This was the reason I never drank milk growing up, and why I still can't bring myself to enjoy a glass of cold milk. It just doesn't feel right, I can't describe the flavor, but it tastes like it's supposed to be warm. It's mostly not crisp enough to be cold. But warm milk is the best (especially with a little cinnamon). It's yummy, yummy, yummy! I like it, and my bones like it.

What I want to do with my life.

These videos don't even need words. Enjoy

Beddytime.

I have a plan tonight. Last Friday I had a snow day after a three day weekend and exam week (which I find exponentially less stressful that school), then I had a weekend, one measly last exam, two days off, and today there was another snow day. Tomorrow is not only my first real day of school in two weeks, its the beginning of a new semester and I have 3 new classes tomorrow. So why not get a fresh start? I'm going to go to bed super duper early tonight. Asleep by 9? I think it sounds lovely!

Remarkably Difficult Simple Tasks.

Continuous finger snapping it near impossible, at least if you want a nice loud, crisp snap every time. I'll never understand how everyone can do it so nicely . . .

Reading an analog clock. Not very hard to do. What I don't get is how people can quickly glance at a clock, for less that a second, and know the time to the minute. It takes me at least a good solid second, but usually two or three to read a clock. Its the instant understanding of time that gets me

Whistling on tune. One you get your tongue in the right position, whistling is not that hard, and you can easy wobble back and forth between different pitches, but how do you make those obscure notes into a tune? Maybe my tongue muscles are a little tone deaf when it's time to whistle, but I should be able to at least get a few clear, different notes...

Using chopsticks to eat rice. It just falls through, need I say more?

Those Really Big Lollipops

You know those huge lollipops? The swirly rainbow ones that are flat and mouthwatering? I have one sitting in a vase in my room along with plastic sunflowers and silly straws. I think lollipops like this are terrible. You know it's going to be delicious, but there is never a good opportunity to eat it, so it just sits there, staring you in the face day after day. I hope someday I'll work up the courage to eat it. Actually, I don't think the courage is the problem, its the time. First of all, you don't want to eat it by yourself because lets face it, it would feel kinda good to flaunt a lollipop like that in front of someone. Second, it must take hours to eat, especially if you're like me and you don't bite it, you suck it. So when do you find yourself in the company of another person for hours and hours where you won't have to be eating anything else? Its pretty rare. I guess I'll just have to keep staring at it . . .

Thoughtless.

Its very cold outside. I played in the snow today, then later I got new snow boots and I thought it was ironic. I wish I was eating guacamole right now. I've spent the past week thinking thinking, thinking, and now my mind is a little worn out so I'm resting it by sitting on my bed watching episode after episode of The Big Bang Theory. I also think mini chocolate chips are far superior to regular size chocolate chips. The Flash is my favorite superhero.

And that's about it right now.

Fish n' Taters

Ghoti is a constructed word used to illustrate irregularities in English spelling. It is a respelling of the wordfish, and like fish, is pronounced /ˈfɪʃ/. Its components include:

• gh, pronounced /f/ as in tough/tʌf/;
• o, pronounced /ɪ/ as in women /ˈwɪmɪn/; and
• ti, pronounced /ʃ/ as in nation /ˈne͡ɪʃən/.

Ghoughpteighbteau is a similarly constructed word, used for illustration of irregularities in spelling. It is a respelling of the word potato, and like potato is pronounced /poʊˈteɪtoʊ/. It has,

• gh, pronounced /p/ as in hiccough/ˈhɪkʌp/;
• ough, pronounced /oʊ/ as inthough /ðoʊ/;
• pt, pronounced /t/ as in ptomaine /ˈtoʊmeɪn/;
• eigh, pronounced /eɪ/ as in neigh/neɪ/;
• bt, pronounced /t/ as in debt /dɛt/;
• eau, pronounced /oʊ/ as in bureau/ˈbjʊəroʊ/.

This is from wikipedia... and life.

Pickles

I love pickles. I'll admit pickles from a jar can be a little too squishy or salty, and pickles that are cut and then put in the jar are gross. Pickles at restaurants are also too soggy and salty, not appetizing. If you're going to buy pickles, buy them whole and cut them yourself, they are crispier and generally much more delicious. But why buy pickles when you can make them yourself? SO DELICIOUS. I know this probably sounds gross, but when you make pickles and they are ready to eat, they're warm, and its the best thing ever. Fresh warm pickles. mmmmm.

I also think chocolate covered pickles could potentially be the most delicious thing ever. Or really gross, but I'm an optimist and open to weird food. Something to try in the future . . 

Golden Men in Golden Thongs

Movie review? Two nights ago I watched the 1980 BBC version of William Shakespeare's The Tempest. I got this so I could understand the crazy plots and characters in the play, and I found it surprisingly true to what I imagined reading the play . . . except one character: Ariel, the spirit and servent to the magician Prospero. Ariel is referred to with male pronouns, but in the play his gender and all physical characteristics are ambiguous. The easiest was to describe what I imagined was a slave crossed with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell's child. But how was he portrayed in the film? Take a look.

He was a skinny, boney, flamboyant man (who I have to assume is gay) wearing a gold thong and covered in gold paint. I guess every director thinks a little bit differently, no?

Snow Days.

During school, snow days are the best EVER. First and foremost, you get to sleep in, I mean, what could be better than that in the middle of a stressful week? It's beautiful outside, you have an excuse to drink buckets of hot chocolate, no reason to get out of your pajamas. And because you either had no plans  because you have to go to school, or everything is cancelled, its a completely relaxing, stress free day. However, during exam week, snow days are hell. First of all, the exam isn't just cancelled, you have to make it up the next day. Everything is pushed back. And so much for that relaxing day. If you have another 24 hours to study, you're going to be studying. And chemistry is the WORST. Plus, if tomorrow is a snow day, that's not just one more day of studying, its a whole weekend wasted on polyatomic atoms and gas laws. Ah well... back to studying.

PLEASE. SAVE THE SNOW FOR SATURDAY.

Sorry she's so sparkly . . .

Marshmallows

As a way of surviving a week of exams, I keep a large bag of marshmallows near me while I study. I just bit into one, expecting a delicious, gooey, sugary bite. OH, BUT NO! That's not what I got. I bit into the marshmallow, and inside was a huge hunk of cornstarch. Seriously? It was gross, and now my sweatshirt is covered in cornstarch. My mouth tastes like cornstarch. It's dry, tastes like baking powder, but its bland and gross.

In other news, teachers can be really lame sometimes. Care for examples? My english teacher just replied to an email I sent her over the weekend.... its Wednesday now, day before the english exam. Super helpful. Also my chem teacher hasn't come to school this week. His reasoning? He doesn't have to give or proctor an exam, so why bother? Doesn't he realize he's one of the hardest teachers in school and he has stressed students who need his help? From the beginning of freshman year I heard his name spoken with fear by upperclassmen. Now I'm one of those kids. As if chem wasn't a ridiculously hard class by itself, a teacher like that doesn't help! Ughhhhhhh.

Also, have you ever come across a remarkably easy essay question?

What typical tricks of the horror genre are used in Rosemary's Baby?

IDK. MAYBE THE FACT THAT SHE WAS RAPED BY THE DEVIL AND IS CARRYING HIS BABY?

maybe....

Word.

Ever wondered what my favorite word is for each letter of the alphabet? Well why wouldn't you?

Aloof

Bungee

Classy

Doppleganger

Epiphany

Freckle

Gaggle

Hawaii

Imp

Janky

Ketchup

Lumps

Moist

Ninny

Omelet

Punchy

Quadrangle

Righteous

Snot

Twelfth

Uncharacteristically

Vegemite

Wylin

Xanax

Yuppies

Zesty

word.

20%

I can't stop studying. Theres an endless flow of information I once knew, and then forgot, and now I have to relearn. It all seems so pointless. It's no longer about whether or not I know this information, its about how well I can retain little facts and figures, how well I can deal with stress, and how quickly I can write an essay. Ughhhhh. And there's so much pressure to do well. Each test is 20% of my grade, and even though I know I won't completely bomb any of them, the worst I will do is a 50%. That drops my grade down 10 points. Seriously? These are huge, and way more important than they need to be. The scariest part is that there's no room to fix a bad grade. During the school year, there's always going to be another test that will make a bad one worth less, there might be an opportunity tor extra credit, and class participation always helps your grade. But this, this is just a test. No extra credit, no easy points, just the test. 20%.


About 20% of restaurant meals come with french fries
20% of women consider one or more of their parents to be their best friends
20% of the way through a pregnancy, a baby is about the size of a large lima bean, and weighs 1 gram
20% of men propose on their knees
If you lick 2 stamps, you consume 20% of a calorie

Dear Friends, Dear Friends.

Last night I went to a camp reunion. This morning I woke up to a beautiful, improvisational piece on the piano. A close friend who I fell asleep next to was in my arms, and another close friend on my other side. Snow outside, then the music from the piano transformed into my favorite song, and voices from around the room sang along. Still in that wonderful, just-woke-up-still-in-a-fetal-position-and-warm-and-cozy place, someone offered me yummy chocolate cake. Cut to an hour or so later, dance parties, more cuddling. Cut to another hour later, 40 of my dearest friends singing a short chant 17 times in a row, first embracing the moment, then louder, add beat boxing and dancing. Quaker tunes never sounded so good.

I realized over the weekend that most of the people I'm really close to at camp are on staff. They're not really authority figures, they're not actually much different that campers at all. It's not weird that they're older than me, it's just kind of weird that I can be so comfortable and close with people that age at camp, when in the real world people that age are my teachers and doctors. I can't imagine having a relationship like that with my teachers, but the staffers are a different story. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

I feel silly and wonderful. I like dancing, regardless of whether or not there's music. I like sledding down steep icy hills, over snowbanks, and into trees. I like downing bowlfuls of caffeinated tea. I like vegan sloppy joes. I like cuddling. I like those knitted granny square blankets with holes in them. I like how in real life, you can be happy, but there's always a little bit of stress or sleepiness or some moral dilemmas poking around in the back of your brain, but at camp, you can just be happy, nothing else. And it's that simple.

"Every person here is beautiful and wonderful"

Where would you like this laminate flooring?

I'm going away this weekend and unfortunately I don't have time to waste away by pondering something fantastically exciting to blog...

so here are some fantasmic quotes from The Drowsy Chaperone, my all time favorite Broadway show

"I hate theatre. Well, it’s all so disappointing. You know what I do when I’m sitting in a darkened theatre waiting for a show to begin? I pray. Oh dear god please let it be a good show. And let it be short, oh lord in heaven please (two hours is fine, three hours is too much) and keep the actors out of the audience, god! I didn’t pay $100 for the fourth wall to come crashing down around me. I just want a story and a few good songs that will take me away. I just want to be entertained, I mean, isn’t that the point? Amen . . . . .You know, there was a time where people sat in darkened theatres and thought to themselves, what have George and Ira got for me tonight? Or, can Cole Porter pull it off again? Can you imagine? Now it’s, please, Elton John, must we continue this charade?"

A marvelous way to start a show, don't you think? Really gets the audience excited

"We as a society have grown too sophisticated to enjoy broad racial stereotypes on the stage, so we’ve banished them to Disney."

True life.

"It’s mechanics. It’s like pornography... Let me explain what I mean by that. In pornography, the story is simplistic. “How do I pay for this pizza?” or “I’d do anything to pass this drivers test” . . . “Where would you like this laminate flooring?” I’m just making this up… My point is, as in a musical the story exists only to connect together the longer, more engaging, you know… production numbers, or reproduction numbers. It’s not like I watch pornography, I just . . . What kind of country do we live in if we can’t discuss the similarities between pornography and musical theatre?"

Hmmm... interesting take on the theatre. I've never thought of it that way. And I think a better question would be, what kind of country would we live in if we could discuss the similarities between musical theatre and pornography??

"I don’t like intermissions, they destroy the magic, you know? They yank you back into reality. One moment you’re lost in a world of glamour and music, and then Bang! You’re surrounded by tourists."

BANG

My Secret Life as a Dominatrix

"So, how do you like being a dominatrix?"

"Actually, I like it! Being in control, it’s changed me, it’s made me a more confident person. I used to be so terrified; I would never raise my hand in class even though I was a good student. I couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at me. Anyway, being a dominatrix is really just a branch of psychology."

"Uh... neat."

"It is neat! People tell us things they won’t even tell their shrinks."

"So how did you get into this…. racket?"

"Well, when I got out of college I had a girlfriend, and she was a dominatrix, and I was her submissive, but it was a problem because I always wanted to rebel, so the relationship didn’t last."

"So you’re bisexual?"

"Yes."

"Neat."

This is an excerpt from an off-Broadway play, Trust. I find the beginning remarkably similar to my life. The only difference is I don't really plan on being a dominatrix...but I do paint my toenails black. Who knows? I mean, my dream job is to be a pastry chef, that's not really too far from a dominatrix, is it?

• Both provide services that people do not necessarily need, but they definitely want
• Both require uniforms
• Both give the customer something that might make them moan

Food for thought.

Music To My Ears

Seriously, check this thing out. Small sperm-like fish that wriggle and jiggle to your custom made rhythm. Oh, and you can make as many as your ears can stand. It's slightly disorienting, has the potential to give you a headache, and makes your ears ring a little bit, but its also completely addicting and wonderful.


In other news, todays adventures included a terrible new icing recipe. What a waste of a perfectly good cake to cover it up in a runny, pasty goo. I hate when icing doesn't come out right. It uses too many ingredients to make again, and it leaves the cake sub-par. Sigh. Now sitting in my kitchen is a hunk of a delicious, finely crafted red velvet cake, covered in a gooey mess, covered again in red sprinkles.... I feel so ashamed, I don't even know who to feed this too. I'm too self conscious about it to bring it to school, and if I'm afraid growing 17 year olds with monsters for stomachs won't eat this, there isn't much hope for anyone else.


I'm going to go add more sprinkles.

FANTASMIC

Something so wonderfully fantastic it makes your soul orgasm.

Care for examples? Tea with exponential amounts of honey, laughing so hard you snort, cry, AND pee your pants, and wearing candy necklaces in public.

This is one of those words that I refrain from saying in public places because talking about things that make my soul orgasm isn't particularly classy. BUT WAIT, as it so happens, Fantasmic! was the name of a Disney show in Disneyland... it had fireworks, live actors, water effects, boats, and acrobatics. Not every day a word you avoid using because its not quite G rated turns out to be the name of a critically acclaimed children's show.

Not that Disney was ever really G rated . . . A Disney children's film from the 70s, Pete's Dragon, included a bar scene with gaggles of men smoking cigars and drinking until they wobble and faint, and the one's who haven't fallen to the floor start grabbing at a lady. The movie also stars a cartoon dragon who only speaks in gibberish and clicking noises.

Penny for your thoughts?

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe

This is making me feel like I don't express myself through my feet enough.

Shoe Resolutions: Neon high tops by the end of high school, see through shoes by the end of life. Except summer of course. Summer is the best time for building up those rhino skin calluses that act like the soles of shoes by mid-August. Why need shoes if the bottoms of your feet can protect themselves? The only reason I wear shoes in the winter is to protect my lovely, warm socks. Oh, and social conformity...