Saturday, August 27, 2011

Things Are About To Get Political Up In This Joint....

Let's do political bumper stickers! Inspired actual bumper stickers I've seen. Most of them are going to be offensive, because I don't know if I can do this without being a little bit biased. But I'm a blogger, not a news station. So I'm going to be as biased as I ****ing please. I hope you still like me after this. Now sit back, relax, and prepare yourselves for your daily dose of liberalism.

Nobody Knows I'm [Insert Your Faith of Choice Here]-- It's self explanatory. This bumper sticker is a variant of the famous "Nobody Knows I'm a Lesbian."

Pray for Obama (Quran 49:13)-- Come on now, guys. I've seen this bumper sticker (and countless variants) so many times, it's not even funny. I looked the Bible verse on the sticker up in two different versions of the Bible to ensure accuracy (because I hate it when people quote mistranslations of the Qur'an), and the verse reads: "Let his days be few, and let another take his office." So, not only does a person with this bumper sticker not like Obama's politics, but they also want him to die. Looks like the makings of another Lincoln assassination, methinks!

Apparently, Jews are Smarter Than All Your Honors Students-- You know who I like? Jewish people. You don't see the Jews getting their knickers in a knot over some stupid bumper stickers. I don't want to perpetuate any stereotypes here, but how many Jewish people do you see sitting at home printing absurd bumper stickers that are specifically designed to disagree with other bumper stickers!? I don't know any.

Oh, and by the way, at least a quarter of the bearded guys you're stopping at the airport and checking their trousers for bombs are probably Jewish. Just saying.

I Work Hard to Support My Fellow Americans Whether They Speak English or Not-- This could be parodying like, any bumper sticker. But this one really made me want to kill babies (oh God, I am funny. *slaps knee* That was a joke. No, wait, please don't leave yet! Come baaaaack!). Anyway, really America? Really? Because I work hard to support people with disabilities, people who came here (bless their little hearts) for a better life only to find that they're only allowed to do jobs that nobody else will, people who made one bad choice and are now doomed to regret it for the rest of their lives, and people with terrible luck. You could say I'm a nice person.

I guess there are just too many idiots out there for me to tackle in one post. So do you guys want to see more bumper stickers? Or are you about ready to call the NRA to teach me a lesson? Let me know! Oh, by the way, if I offended anyone or you want to hear an explanation of my thoughts here (which, I'll admit, were semi-incoherent), you can let me know that too. Remember, I've got a no-Nazi policy. :)

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Ramadan: The Epic Saga

No, wait, don't ex-out of this page yet! And don't even think about leaving any terrorist comments. Ramadan is quite possibly the most hilarious month of the year. Read on to get a glimpse of how insane all of our lives get during this month.

If you don't know what Ramadan is, here's a crash course: Ramadan is a month of the Islamic calendar, and basically an abso-freaking-lutely amazing holiday that lasts an entire month. Most Muslims fast from dawn until sundown every day (with some exceptions) for the entire month, which means we don't eat, drink, smoke, or anything like that during the day. There's a lot of history and theology-related stuff tied in with Ramadan, but I won't bore you with that. If you're interested, you can let me know and I'll direct you to some links. Anyway, that's basically all you need to know. Moving onward....


  • Dates. I just can't seem to make myself like dates. They're like the raisins of the Arab world and, to be completely honest, I hate raisins. You're supposed to start your day and end your day with dates, but I hate them so much I usually take a more American route and go with potato chips.
  • Never sleeping. During Ramadan, particularly during the last ten nights, it's practically expected for you to run on the bare minimum amount of sleep. And I don't mean your standard eight hours. I mean hard-core, legit, three hours or less every single night. If you don't screw up and accidentally fall asleep right after Fajr (dawn prayer) like I do, that is.... I've taken to literally never sleeping, as in, staying up all night up until suhoor (the pre-dawn meal we eat to begin our day of fasting) because I'm afraid I won't wake up. Missing suhoor is bad, bad, bad.
  • Eating. Once it's time for you to eat, one of two things always happen: 1) you stuff yourself to the point of bursting with all your favorite junk food, thus gaining a bunch of weight, throwing your entire digestive system out of whack, and feeling all lethargic. It's just bad. Or 2) you look at all the food and go "O.o What the hell is this stuff!?" I find it really hard to choke down regular food after a whole day of fasting, which I suppose is a good thing. But you really do never get used to it.
  • You're always wet. I know this sounds ridiculous, but before we pray, we make ablutions, or wudu. It's basically like taking a bath in the sink (or in the shower, if you prefer). To add to this, I take a lot of showers during the day even though I never do anything, so I never get dirty. Why? Because it's a great way to kill time while you're waiting until you can eat again, and the smell of chocolate-flavored body wash is like an orgasm in a bottle. But these two things combined make it difficult for a person's hair to ever not be hanging limply and wetly by their shoulders (or if you're me, down around your waist xD )

  • Take a lot of showers (see above). 
  • Put on strawberry and fruit punch flavors of lipgloss because they're vaguely reminiscent of eating food. 
  • Procrastinate on the computer.
  • Watch underfunded 1990's family romcoms with my little sister; yell at her to go take her popcorn in another room, thank you very much.
  • Plan what I'm going to cook for iftar (the meal we eat after sundown to break our fasts). Usually I'm too lazy to ever actually cook anything.
  • Complain to my internet friends about exactly how many hours, minutes and seconds I have left until I can eat.
Ramadan is almost over, and I'm kind of glad, but mostly sad. That could just be the sleep-deprivation, though. Fasting definitely messes with your brain.

I was thinking of adding a "Day in the Life" type section to this post to describe exactly what goes down during Ramadan, but I didn't want your eyes to bleed from the sheer length of it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in that at all, and I'll put it up. Okay? Good. *salutes*

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Band-Aids Are The Apocalypse.

I am not kidding. Guess what happened to me yesterday? A Band-Aid tried to kill me! It all started two days ago..... *cue nostalgia music* I walked out of my house, took approximately four steps, and then suddenly stepped on a sharp rock that pierced my foot! I didn't bleed a lot, so I put a Band-Aid over it and went to sleep after a few more hours of general ridiculousness.

The next day, I woke up to find half of my Band-Aid hanging off my foot. If you know me at all, you know that my CDO (it's like OCD, only with all the letters in alphabetical order, as they should be :P) gives me no choice but to rip off a Band-Aid that is behaving in such a manner. So I take my hand, grab the Band-Aid, and rip it off, just like you're supposed to do, to have the least amount of pain possible.

The worst pain I've ever felt was when I almost died from an injury I sustained while walking down the street. Literally. But that's a post for another time (if you guys aren't too grossed out by this one, that is). But this pain was almost as terrible. To my disgust, the Band-Aid had taken a good portion of the skin on my foot with it. I imagine this is sort of similar to what getting your bikini waxed feels like. But, um.... moving on. *ahem*

I doused my foot in water, and then limped downstairs to the bathroom, almost launching myself over the banister in the process and looking like some grotesque combination of a drunkard, an uncoordinated duck, and a baby monkey with some sort of horrible developmental delay. I was quite literally forced to perform surgery on my own foot using only fingernail clippers, sixteen Band-Aids, and a towel. The reason for this is that A) my brain was so boggled by the pain of walking across the hardwood floor that I somehow rationalized that the quicker I covered up the wound, the less painful it would be, and B) I would rather be shot in the face than ever go to the emergency room at any hospital, ever. The reason for this is that if I were to go to the ER, here's a rough approximation of what would happen:

  • An apathetic, middle-aged receptionist would accost my traumatized mother for a co-pay, because our healthcare system royally sucks (what else is new?). 
  • Said receptionist would ask me to rate my pain on a scale of 1-10. This is the worst part for a math geek such as myself. I mean, really? 1-10? And besides, it's a completely arbitrary scale with no units, which means (as I've suspected since before I could even count to 10) that it means nothing.
  • I would be asked to sit down in the waiting room, whereupon I would be forced to look on as scores of screaming toddlers were admonished by their mothers (who are always dressed for the nightclub, not the pediatric hospital, and look about 18) for being so clumsy as to injure themselves.
  • I would wait in the waiting room, whining incessantly and wishing I had rated my pain as a higher number so that I could be seen faster.
  • I would be helped to the back, seated in a room, and have my vital signs taken even though it's abundantly clear that my vitals are just fine, thank you very much, now can you take care of the agonizingly painful abomination that is my right foot?
  • I would wait for the perky triage nurse, who is always wearing scrubs with some overly-perky design on them, to go get a doctor, and the waiting process starts all over again, except this time, the room is smaller, and the walls painted a color that is specifically designed to induce migraines.
  • I would finally be seen by a doctor who would be approximately 30 years old and either wearing a tie that his six-year-old made him or wearing way too much makeup and four push-up bras (hopefully that one applies to ladydoctors only. And I'm not talking about gynecologists. Seriously, male gynos baffle me. They're like, a slightly more educated version of your classic high school douchebag. But, *ahem* moving on.). This doctor would also be arrogant and overconfident and then say something along the lines of, "LOL! Unfortunately, we're not really equipped to deal with this giant, gaping flesh wound in your foot-- but your disgruntled parents can drive you about two and a half hours away from here to get to our center in *insert your favorite town with a population of less than twenty sober adults here* even though it's three in the ****ing morning!" 
 Anyway, I plastered down whatever remained of my foot with approximately fourteen Band-Aids and put a sock on, hoping that new skin would just magically regrow through the virtue of eating plenty of vegetables and always saying "please" and "thank you." Stupid PSA's got it all wrong.

A few hours later, it came to my attention that apparently, you don't just put a Band-Aid on and forget about it. Oh no, that would be impossible! You have to change the bandages every three hours or risk ripping your entire foot off again! I'd like punch the ***hole who created Band-Aids in the face. What kind of horrible gimmick is this? It's a sad world we live in, my friends. Did I mention that they even had the nerve to call these Band-Aids "flesh-toned?" What kind of racist jerk does that!? Out of all the people I've met in the past umpteen years, I have met maybe two whose "flesh tone" that Band-Aid matches. The nerve.

Anyway, I hope that was entertaining to all you sadists out there. Or at the very least, informative to all you masochists out there who love ripping off Band-Aids. Only you can prevent needless ER visits and ungodly pain that feels like a person is walking on daggers! *poses like Smokey the Bear and waits for tourists to take photos*

UPDATE: As I was limping dramatically across the floor to change the bandages on my gaping flesh wound this morning, I actually launched myself over my banister and caught myself using my hand, wrist, and forearm. As a violinist with an audition in four days, I just have to reiterate-- Band-Aids are worse than the apocalypse. We might as well just all get Raptured right now, because Band-Aids are going to take over the entire world and leave anybody who ever used them behind as no more than a whimpering, bloody pulp.

Monday, August 15, 2011

It's the traveling smoothie..... OF DEATH!

Just kidding. You won't find any cyanide pills in this smoothie. I found out (by virtue of obsessively checking my "stats," whatever that means) that I've been tagged by the traveling smoothie (splashed all over my good shirt, no doubt). For those who don't know, this is a game in which there's a blank drawing of a smoothie, like this one:

And then you color it in, using only your trackpad and MS Paint. I was tagged by hornetunderwater. And since I'm a wizard, I was able through the fruits of my labor (and my wand) to turn her name into a Portkey. All those who get the joke, go ahead and click it. All those who don't, stay put. (*slaps knee* Oh God, I am so funny. If you got that Harry Potter reference without looking it up, by the way, let me know. There will be prizes.)

Anyway, here's my smoothie.

Obviously, this is a strawberry-kiwi-raspberry-blueberry-grape-apricot-mango-cherry smoothie. I dare one of you guys to go make a smoothie with all those ingredients and then report back.

And, I dare the following five bloggers to make their own smoothie. Ready.....set......GO! *ceremonial gunshot*

The Girl In Clunky Black Boots

Fiddling Dressage Chick


Screaming Giraffe (forgive me, I don't know what else to call you. Follow me, and then correct me in the comments? *puppy dog eyes* ....I feel like a telemarketer now O.o)


Again, please nobody get their feelings hurt if you didn't get picked. I literally just put all my friends' blogs in a hat (the names of their blogs, I mean. I didn't literally put their blogs in a hat. That would be a pretty epic hat, though. Can somebody get a patent on that?) and picked five. So if you really, desperately want to get picked, let me know and for my next tag, I'll try to remember to tag you :)

Everyone happy now? Good! As always, if there's a topic you guys want to see me do a post on, feel free to let me know (*ahem* I'm definitely not completely starved for ideas, if that's what you're suggesting).

Sunday, August 14, 2011

I Knew I Should Have Been Practicing My Acceptance Speech!

It has recently come to my attention that I've won an award! For the record, I had no idea these things even existed. *ahem* Here's the award, in all its glory:

In addition to crashing my web browser repeatedly, this award also comes with rules. I am starting to like this award less and less. Although it should be noted that the person who created it is much more gifted at graphic design than I. So, well done, mysterious Award Master, and may you gift me many more in the future.

Here are the rules:

1. Thank and link to the person who nominated you.
2. Share seven random facts about yourself.
3. Pass the award along to 5 deserving blogging buddies.
4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them!


It was one of my most faithful readers, TeiTay, who nominated me. You rock! :)


1. I am deathly afraid of worms. No idea why. But now you all know my weakness. I am kind of nervous about this.
2. Last year for Halloween, I went as a pair of legs. I wore glow in the dark fishnets, a black turtleneck, a black mask, and a black miniskirt, so that when it got dark, it would look like a pair of legs walking through the night.
3. I once injured myself while walking down the streets. I tripped over my Crocs. *Public Service Announcement FTW*
4. I want to be an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher when I grow up.
5. I've been a singer and a violinist for ten years.
6. xkcd is my favorite webcomic, and Hyperbole and a Half is my favorite blog. (NOTE: Both of these websites are hilarious, but they also contain quite a bit of strong language/adult content. If that's not your kind of humor, please don't hold me responsible.)
7. Computer programming and speaking French are two more of my favorite things ever.


I'm going to go ahead and refer you to any one of my followers, because quite frankly, it has come to my attention (within the last five minutes) that I actually have more tags to answer, and also, because I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings.

UPDATE 4:58 PM, 8/14/2011: I just realized that I inadvertently tagged six of you guys. I think you should all accept the award, but if you don't want to, I'm not going to force you. I already said I wasn't a Nazi.

I'm terribly sorry if this defeats the entire purpose of this award. I hope this doesn't.... do the opposite of float anyone's boat. I don't know what that would be. Sink anyone's boat? That sounds like some sort of euphemism. I should stop talking now before I say something really offensive.

PART 4: 

I'll be in contact with all of you guys shortly, because you are all equally awesome, and I am a nice person. Or at least I think so.


Just kidding. There won't be any elephants. Unless you guys get really lucky. But.... I'm adding an awesome button! I'll try to change the awesome button with every post. I'm going to keep you in suspense for now, but soon, there will be awesome things, and they will be linked to you by way of the awesome button. Capiche?

Good! And I'll answer my next tag tomorrow. Feel free to keep sending me these (I think they're really cool and I appreciate the publicity), but please let me know about them in the comments. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to obsess over all of your blogs. If you want me to answer a tag, you need to let me know about it without making me comb through all of your posts. Thanks! *tips hat*

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Things That I Wish I Had Thought Of

The title pretty much says it all. To counteract yesterday's post, this is a list of stuff that I think is really awesome.

  • Swingsets. Tricking little children into thinking they can fly, one death-trap at a time. They're also the best place to sing, apart from the shower. Even though the acoustics are truly awful, there's something vaguely satisfying about the idea of subjecting all innocent civilians within a half-mile radius to your rendition of "Defying Gravity" without them having any say in the matter. Which brings me to....
  •  Musicals. It's real life, dramatized. The stakes are higher, the guys are hotter, and there's singing! Need I say more?
  •  Hairdressers. I don't know anyone who doesn't love that awesome feeling you get following a hair cut. Seeing your hair in little snippets strewn all over the floor will always be awesome.
  •  Getting mail. Especially packages, but any kind of mail works for me. Even e-mail. It makes me feel special that somebody loves me enough to actually put something in a box, pay for the postage, walk to the post office, and wrestle it into the mailbox. Wait...... you mean that's just me? Okay fine, gently place it into the mailbox. 
This list, much like yesterday's list, could go on forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever.... Now tell me what you think. What brings you joy? What do you hate? (Hopefully not these lists-- but you can let me know your opinions on those, too.)

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Things That I Think Probably Shouldn't Exist

This would be a really long list if it weren't for the fact that nobody likes a blog post that's a total downer. Actually, that's probably something that should be on this list....

  • Boxes of popsicles that have a disproportionate ratio of "good flavors" to "bad flavors." You can't even buy Root Beer flavored popsicles without also getting Banana and Lime. That makes the ratio of bad flavors to good flavors 2:1. I mean, seriously. In this crazy, messed-up society, a girl should be able to get Root Beer flavored popsicles without having to worry about whether her sister has just left her with a box full of Banana flavored ones.
  •  Telemarketers. This one goes without saying. This is a transcription of an actual conversation I had with a telemarketer not two days ago.
ME: Hello?
TELEMARKETER (TM):  Hi, this is [censored for the sake of not embarrassing this telemarketer, because I'm sure the majority of my readers are telemarketers *sarcasm hand*] from DialAmerica and I was wondering if you'd like to renew any magazine subscriptions today.
ME: *thinking* What are you talking about? I don't have any magazine subscriptions! *speaks* Um, I don't think I have any magazine subscriptions. 
TM: Well, we'd just like to thank you for your kind donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society today.
ME: *thinking* What the hell?!? I didn't donate any money! *speaks* Um....okay? 
TM:  Well I'm just calling to tell you that thanks to people like you, we raised over 50,000 dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society this year.
ME: *thinking* I thought you were calling to sell me magazines! *speaks* Oh, um..... thanks?
 TM: You're very welcome, ma'am. Now I'm also calling to let you know that we're having a very special offer today. You can subscribe to all your favorite magazines and we'll ship it directly to your door, free of charge. How about "National Geographic?"
ME: I don't think I'm interested in buying any magazines.
TM: Well, what about "Smithsonian?" 
ME: I don't want that either. *thinking* Please hang up.
TM: What about "Discover?" 
ME: Um, I really, really don't want any magazines.
TM: ......What about "Cosmopolitan?"
ME: *bursts into a fit of maniacal giggles*
TM: *laughs along like he gets the joke* *long pause* Uh..... bye. *hangs up*
I only have one thing to say to this: Hide yo children, hide yo wives, 'cause they telemarketin' errything out there.

  • Hand dryers in public bathrooms. These things are completely absurd. Do you know how disappointing it is when you pull your hands out from underneath the hand dryer (which, by the way, makes a monstrously loud sound for what it actually does), and your hands are still completely wet? Ugh. Worst. Thing. Ever.
  • People who try to imitate foreign accents but really just end up embarrassing themselves. You see this all the time with people trying to imitate British accents, especially at the Harry Potter themed parties and movie premieres which have been in abundance these past few weeks. It's absurd. The worst is when people go "Brih-ish!" with a huge guttural stop in between the two syllables. Especially if they do it with a high-pitched, squeaky voice. As if that makes them sound more British. That just makes me want to punch my fist through walls. 
  • Teachers who don't ever fully explain the assignment.  Actually, teachers in general annoy me. They always pair you with the most obnoxious kid in class, they give too much homework, they complain about their students to their students.... The list goes on. But it really annoys me when you ask a question and they don't give a straight answer. The point is for you to learn, not get more confused.
OK, now I want to know what annoys you guys! What really drives you up the walls? Let me know! And since this post was kind of rambly, tomorrow I'll write a post about stuff I love. Leave ideas for that in the comments, too!