Friday, June 26, 2009

The biggest difference between my little sister and Shakespeare is that one of them doesn't actually commit violent acts.

My school's theatre department puts on a Shakespearean play every summer. This summer production was the first part of Henry IV. Normally I don't like Shakespeare so much, but I decided to go anyway.

Do you know what is totally hot?

Sword fighting-- especially when it's two guys in olden times armor battling it out Mano-e-Mano.

I promise this is not another one of my insane tangents about possum human breeding or the Amish country.

So I'm sitting in the theatre with Ashleigh, Josh and Jared, and I'm kind of nervous that I'm going to do that thing where get bored and start narrating the show in my head in strange ways, except I end up narrating out loud without realizing it. Then everyone hates me and thinks I'm crazy because my narration usually includes talking bears and salmon warfare. This is a lose lose situation.

Okay, so I'm sitting there and the lights go off and I'm expecting someone to come out and start giving a soliloquy or something, and suddenly this music is all "RAAAAAAAAAR I AM MUSIC, AND I AM LOUD IN YOUR EAR DRUM! BEWARE CEREBELLUM!" and a bunch of men start screaming and run on the stage and start hacking at each other with swords and axes and shields, and I'm just sitting there with this giant demonic fan-girl smile on my face because they are not only sword fighting, but they are in olden times clothing.

I seriously almost yelled FUCK YEAH SEAKING!, but I'm pretty sure I would have gotten kicked out of the theatre because A) It's rude to shout during a performance and B) I go to a Christian university. I refrained mostly because I wanted to see more hot sword fighting.

So then a bunch of other stuff happened, and then more stuff happened, and then there an intermission where I dropped The People's Elbow on this one girl waiting in line for the bathroom because I'm hardcore.

Okay, what actually happened is that I was walking with Ashleigh to the bathroom and saw a teacher I knew and waved. Except replace waved with "wasn't really paying attention and ran into two girls and elbowed one of them really hard in the crook of their neck and knocked the other one over".

Right, so we went back in the theatre and the second act started. Some shit went down, then there was more fighting.

I have to put my foot down on this fighting sequence, POOMSOSA. One of the guys fighting had a definite advantage because he was Asian. Seriously, he like WALL JUMPED during one of the fights.

At this point I wanted to shout "SHENANIGANS! You are not Mario, you do not have the Z-button that allows you to wall jump!", but I was too distracted in the next moment when the other guy knocked him down and beat him to death with his shield.


So the this guy named "The Douglass" or something like that appears on stage and is all "LOOK AT ME I AM SLASHING MY SWORD AROUND AND I HAVE A DEEP BOOMING VOICE RAR!"

This is the point in the show where I thought Ashleigh and I were going to get kicked out because the only thing I could think of was "THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE HIGHLANDER! TIRES CANNOT DEFEAT ME!" whenever the guy talked, and I whispered it really loudly to Ashleigh. We both dissolved into laughter, and got a couple of glares, but I really didn't care because some woman brought HER FREAKING DOG to the show and it started yelping and causing a ruckus at one point.

No one glared at her. They all acted like it was perfectly normal for her to have brought A PUPPY to a theatre show.



There was another point in a fight between Hotspur and Prince Hal that Hotspur chased Prince Hal on stage and then threw a spear at him, and the Prince totally bitchslapped the spear out of the air with his sword and BROKE IT AND HALF.

I am going to have awesome dreams tonight.

I am also extremely amused by violence.


In other news, rehearsals for Godspell started Tuesday. I am playing Lamar. I love Lamar, even if Lamar is the slightly slow character.

This may or may not be because Lamar is the slapstick character that goofs of and/or is a little slow and draws attention to herself all the time.

The only thing I'm worried about is that at some point during the show we go out in the audience and dance around and stuff. That's totally cool with me for most of the performances because I like attention, and I like interacting with people (usually).

There's one problem: my six-year-old sister is going to be at one of the shows.

I seriously just got shivers up my spine.

I know, I know, it seems like she would be a sweet and harmless little six year old.


She's totally a demon child. Normally this is okay with me because I can sic her on people who irritate me/ family members who irritate me/ people I just want to be mean to. We're partners in crime. Most of the time. Sometimes she turns on me, and it usually ends with her kicking me in the shin and me attempting to punt her across the room.

I'm not kidding. One time she kept whining that she had to go to the bathroom in Walmart even though she HAD JUST GONE FIVE MINUTES AGO, and my mom was all "Amber, spend quality time with your sister and take her to the bathroom" which is really just code for "I'm too lazy to take her to the bathroom because she probably doesn't have to go, but she's whining too loud for me to ignore her so you deal with it". So I take Kira to the bathroom, and, SURPRISE, she didn't have to go. So she's all "I don't have to pee", and I'm all "Too bad. You whined about it, now you better squeeze something out", and she's all "I'm glaring mutinously at you."

At this point I thought I had won.


Kira starts screaming and crawls, HALF NAKED, into another ladies stall screaming about stranger danger.

I don't think I have ever been so embarrassed in my entire life. Luckily my mom showed up before the security people could take her away and accuse me of trying to kidnap her.

If that happens when I try to get her go pee, what's she going to do when I'm in character and can't acknowledge her out in the audience when she calls my name?

I think I'm going to ask the director if shin guards can be part of my costuming.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Apparently I look like a crack addict at one in the morning

Okay, so I totally lied. You didn't get two posts yesterday, POOMSOSA.

I'm pretty sure you will get over it.


Unless you don't, in which case, I'll fake apologize to keep you from going over the deep end and coming after me with a sawed off shotgun. The results of that could be quite unpleasant.

Right. So I have recently realized that Abilene is the worst place to live. Ever. Why is this POOMSOSA?

Well, POOMSOSA, native Abileneisaurs (yes, that's totally what they are called) parade around in shirts that say "Keep Abilene Normal" all the time. This, coupled with the facts that there are approximately eighty bazillion churches in Abilene--

I totally just got derailed because my Google spell-checker didn't yell at me when I typed bazillion. THAT.IS.FREAKING.AWESOME.

Okay, focusing. Focusing.

-- three at least vaguely Christian universities in Abilene, and about 99.99999% of Abilene's native population is people over the age of eighty, gives off the impression that Abilene is a safe place to live.

My General Ackbar senses are tingling.

.....Yours should be too.


Right. So here's what went down. My friend Elonda's sister is having surgery. She does not have a car, so she asked me if I could take her to a bus station at 1 AM so that she could make her departure time at 2:30 AM. Apparently the bus people were expecting a tsunami of people to be taking a bus from ABILENE (a podunk town) to somewhere in Colorado. Clearly there is a huge demand for this and they would lose track of their customers and people would be all grr and sue them for something or other.

...Then again, people going from Abilene to Colorado might be on the run terrorists or something. Maybe the whole " be here an hour and a half ahead of time just in case at 1:00 AM in a small-ish town" thing is a clever ruse for "we're Super Americans who are making sure no terrorists slip past our careful guard. Don't worry America, that bus they're riding on is totally a Transformer and will crush any shenanigans those terrorists try to get away with. HELL YEAH OPTIMUS PRIME!"

In which case, HELL YEAH bus stop policy makers! Take them down! UHUH *Z SNAP PATTERN*

I realize don't care that the previous statement may or may not be culturally insensitive to people who ride buses at 1:00 AM from small towns. And bus companies...and people who Z snap... The list can go on, but I'm stopping.


That would suck major marmalade sandwiches. And marmalade is frickin' gross.

Wow. I just got majorly off topic. So I took her to the bus stop, and I start taking her luggage inside because she's disabled and isn't supposed to lift stuff. She goes inside to sit down, I got back outside to grab another duffel bag, and this man (who I totally thought was a hobo because he was sleeping on the curb near a road) comes up and is all "Hey, I'm from Denver passing through here, do you know where I can score some crack?"

At which point I'm all "What the hell are you talking about?" because I'm not especially socially bright at 1AM so I had no idea what he meant by crack. So he explains that he wants drugs, and I just kinda stand there and glare at him for a second before telling him that I am not into that kind of stuff.

Except I didn't really glare because he was a really shifty looking dude and had his hand behind his back the whole time, so I thought he might have a knife or a gun or something.

I seriously thought I was going to die. Except, I totally got gipped because I didn't get to see a flashback of my whole life. The only thing I could remember was this one time when I fell and skinned my knee in 10th grade. This memory totally made my knee actually start stinging in sympathy pain and really pissed me off because that's a really crappy memory to remember when you're about to die.

Of course I was also pissed because I always imagined I would go out in a gun fight with John Wayne's evil clone where I sacrifice my life to save the world from his tyranny or something cool like that, not by being stabbed by a crack addict in a bust parking lot in Abilene.

Luckily the dude just kinda skittered off back to his stuff when I told him I had no idea where to find crack, but that I could help him find lots of places to find Jesus.

Needless to say I got her luggage inside and got the hell out of there before the Boy Crack Wonder could change his mind and come after me with whatever was behind his back.

I feel compelled to say at this point that my friend Elonda befriended this guy on the bus, and he was totally helpful and nice to her.

That doesn't mean the situation wasn't scary.

Also, he must messed up thing about that whole situation is that when I told him I had no idea how to "score some crack", he looked at me like I was the bad person.

If you make some joke about how I should know how to get drugs because I am clearly on them, I will give you a permanent third leg. If you catch my drift.

P.S. The new Transformers movie was AWESOME. I'll probably write about that in the next blog.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

No, I'm not having a love affair with my space bar.

So I'm completely aware that I haven't updated this blog in like, three million years. This is a lot less than last time. Hurray.

Right. Serious business.

I decided that blogging every single day was a little bit much because I'm completely lazy busy. Also, who wants to read every day. This is America, not Readmerica. Duh.

So I'm going to start posting three times a week, probably on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I say probably because it will might change.

Also, before you say anything, I know it's Tuesday so that last sentence is kind of extraneous.

Sticklers. God.

Right. Also, in another announcement-y type thing: It has come to my attention that some people who read this blog think that I make out with my space bar at random times during posting. This is entirely totally not true. My thumb totally is isn't a pregnant ho.

HINT: If you highlight the random gaping holes between words, you might find secrets.


Just to warn you, there will be two posts today. This lame announcement one, and then one chronicling my adventures with a bust stop crack addict, staying up all night, a graduate school preparation seminar, and other shenanigans.


Thursday, June 18, 2009

I'm not acting superior. You're just a peasant.

Sometimes I want to maim get really annoyed with people who think they are better than me others. Mostly because I know that I'm whoever is being harassed is better than equal to everyone, but apparently no one else does. This is a grave miscalculation that I attempt to get people to correct.

Only, SURPRISE! Most of the time I'm unsuccessful.

This may or may not be because most people have very high and unrealistic opinions of themselves. Before you ask, I don't include myself in that group.

Right. So I'm sure that you're all wondering why I'm rambling about equality and blah blah blah.

Don't worry, POOMSOSA, I'm about to tell you.

The other day I had a discussion with someone who was upset at me. This should not be a surprise. This person told me that I was rather pompous and that I should try being nice because it's the right thing to do, and then read me the riot act (no, I have no idea what the riot act is but I don't really care because I'm sexy and I can do what I want) and how they were such a better person than me and about a bunch of stuff to which I replied:

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW". Anyone who knows anything about the Internet should be laughing right about now, or shaking their head in shame. Whichever works for you. Equality, remember?

Don't get me wrong POOMSOSA I don't care about other people's feelings. Normally I would have been all "Wow, maybe I'm being totally unreasonable and should evaluate my reasoning in this argument and try to see things from their point of view."

But this argument was not reasonable. Oh no. It was far from it.

This person was arguing with me because I said curling was a stupid sport and shouldn't be in the Olympics.

What. The. Hell.

I mean, I totally understand if you like curling (I refuse to capitalize that word out of principle). You obviously have good reasons.

I won't judge you. I promise.


Okay, that was totally a lie.

I mean, who wouldn't be riveted by a bunch of people throwing some over sized stone at a target and gauging how fast it goes by scraping the ice in front of it with brooms? Seriously, you have to make lightning fast precise decisions about when to scrub the ice and when not to so that you get the stone on the target correctly. Seriously, curling is like the Chess of the ice world! There are even professional ice makers for curling!That shit is hardcore! This video proves it! Do you hear the hardcore music playing in the background do ya? WELL DO YA?"

.......I hope you realize how retarded that just sounded.

( P.S. If you actually do watch the video, there's totally a guy that acts like Tiger Woods when he does something well. It made me lol really hard. I also yelled "Calm down Tiger WOODS!" really loudly with my door open, and someone walked in and was like "What the hell are you talking about?" I was laughing too hard to answer.)

Now that I'm done with my tangent on how stupid I think curling is (yes, I know how the game is played and blah blah blah. I'm not so much of a bigot that I would just judge a game without knowing how it's played), I'll get to the point of this blog.

Well, this blog doesn't really have a point, and I know you don't know this but my "N" key is wigging out, and it's really ticking me off, and if it doesn't stop I'm going to take a flamethrower to my laptop. (Don't worry I'm really not going to. Mostly because I'm too poor to afford a new laptop).


So anyway, this person just went on and on about how I was overly harsh and acted superior all the time.

This made me giggle.

See, the fact is POOMSOSA, I'm not acting superior. You all are just peasants.

Also, I swear that if you look up what my last name means and start telling me about how it's french for "Of the fields" and how that must mean that my ancestors were peasants so I really have no room to be talking, I will give you a surprise tracheotomy.

....That statement just made me giggle again.

Except, it just occurred to me that I really hope no peasants somehow muster up the money/chickens/goats/whatever currency peasants pay in to get on the internet and see this post. God. That would be terrible.

The peasants would be all "RAWR! This noble doesn't care about our well being", and I'd be all "Yeah duh I'm a Feudal Lord, bitch, LOL look at me I'm Marie Antoinette, eat some cake peasants", and then they'd have this giant uprising and I'd be all "OH MY GOD! NEIGHBORING FEUDAL LORDS COME TO MY RESCUE", except there aren't any more feudal lords, so I'd be all by myself. And then the peasants would start chasing after me with pitchforks and other various objects that I don't ever want to be stabbed with and I'd eventually get caught because I can't really run very much, and then I'd be all "This isn't fair! It's not my fault that you don't know how to use modern technology to farm better and get out of poverty," hoping to get out of trouble, except the peasants would be like "Technology? What? SHE'S A WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!". Then they'd definitely have a public burning, except I'm so awesome I would't burn and then I'd look up and see an angel and suddenly turn into Joan of Arc and be remembered forever as the bad ass who got saved from a painful death by an angel.

...Yeah. The hallucinogenic drugs creativity in the air of my room is definitely back.

Also, I have a confession to make.

.....No,I'm not on drugs. You're all jerks for thinking that, POOMSOSA. Don't even pretend that you weren't thinking it.

Right, the confession:

The whole reason I wrote this post is because I wanted to put "I'm not acting superior. You're just a peasant " as a blog title.

LOL Narcissism

Random Statement of the Day:

Fact: "People who are allergic to strawberries should never eat anything with strawberry in it" is a logical argument.

Fact: "People who eat strawberries are stupid because I hate strawberries so they should too" "Girls like guys with a nice ass, not ass crack showing. I'm a reasonable person, you're not. You've been consumed by ACU eggshells and bubble" is not a logical or reasonable argument.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

I may or may not be a little insensitive

I'm pretty sure the hallucinogenic drugs creativity in the air of my room has run out for the day, so I'm just going to post a bunch of blurbs from my trolling adventure on a Meebo chat room where morons people go to roleplay and stuff.

I'm Locke (the philosopher, not the guy from Lost). No names were changed to protect the idiots innocent.

Ookami(male)-||belongs to Crow||: What's with the kids crawling around..
[12:20] Locke: There are kids running around? GAWD! I need to put my spiky tap dance shoes on.
[12:20] Locke: Just kidding. I would never do that to a child.
[12:20] Locke: Probably.

12:22] Sharoe Heo[age 1 and1/2]~ Elemental Baby~Needs Parents~: (im bad at speling)
[12:22] Locke: (I won't hold it against you. )
[12:22] Locke: (That was a lie.)

[12:24] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: -back is covered in blood again-
[12:24] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: -falls to the ground-
[12:24] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: -sobbing into the ground-
[12:24] Locke: Hey bloody teenager, you might want to get up. I bet there are some "vampires" in here.

[12:24] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): *Tatsuya: -sobbing-

[12:31] Locke: Oi, can I bottle your tears and sell them on Ebay?

[12:33] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: -bleeding-
[12:33] Locke: Oi, it looks like you're bleeding.
[12:34] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: well.....-sob- yeah.......obviously -sob-

[12:34] Locke: You should stop that. I heard it's bad for your health.

[12:34] Hanabi (2) (orphan) (half-vamp): Tatsuya: -goes back to sobbing into the floor-

[12:48] Beta Sam(The Samurai Soul Reaper)(Black's Kouen and Heartless's Bro)(Zio's son)(loves Vee)(in Shadows pack): Its not rape...
[12:49] Locke: It's surprise sex!

(I realize that the last blurb can be taken out of context, but no one had claimed to have been raped or anything. A bunch of people made the same joke. Before you ask, YES I would jump off a bridge if everyone else did. I would just be intelligent and use a bungee cable.

[12:53] Naiyu [little slave girl] ~needs a master~ Looking for a love~: *hugs knees* my last master accidentally fell into a lake and got electrocuted to death because he had a cattle prod with him....

[12:49] Locke: LMFAO! BAD ASS!

Yeah. I'm totally insensitive.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Popcorn is the Stalin of salty snacks.

There are times in life when I honestly wonder what exactly I've been put on this world to do. I mean, I'm talented at a lot of things, but I'm not super talented in any of them. At least, I'm not super talented in anything that you could make a career out of. Which is totally cool because I don't want the paparazzi outside my door everyday, POOMSOSA.

Cameras eat souls, true story, and I don't want to take the chance because being a zombie is no fun. I mean seriously, the zombie is all "BRAINS" and the people it's running after all all "AHHH! A ZOMBIE!" and they try and run away but are too retarded scared to actually accomplish anything. So then the Zombie is all "OMNOMNOM" on their brains and they become zombies too, and if I were the first zombie I'd be the leader of all of them, and hell no because I don't even know if I want children, and they're helpless enough with brains. I can't imagine myself with a bunch of zombie children running around.

Plus I'm way too hot to be a zombie.

Right. So back to the part where I'm wondering why I'm here on earth.

POOMSOSA, I have discovered my talent.

I am a bad ass pickle vampire. It's the lamest coolest thing ever. Seriously.

So this is how it all went down. I was in the middle of experiencing an emotional breakdown extreme hunger, when I suddenly looked and saw a shining jar of pickles upon my microwave. Seriously, there was a freaking halo around the jar.

So I decide that pickles with help with my emotional breakdown hunger, and I start eating one and thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life. Except I hate just straight Omnoming pickles. I mean seriously, who does that?

I have a friend who bites the middle of the pickle first. She's like a pickle shark. Which is cool, but she makes a huge mess. I, on the other hand do not. I am chic.

So I take a bite of the pickle and then start to suck the juice out of it, only to find that I am so pro that I can suck the ENTIRE INSIDE OF THE PICKLE OUT!

It was like a light from heaven shone down upon me, POOMSOSA. I could be one of those bad ass circus clowns in Cirque du Soleil and entertain the masses. I mean, I'm totally okay with being a freak and stuff. I might be famous! I've never been able to do this before, and to think that I might be able to pin this fame on a pickle from on top of my microwave. Which was totally cooking popcorn at the time, but who cares about popcorn? You can't be a popcorn vampire. That's just stupid. What are you gonna do, suck the butter out of the kernels and harden your arteries? Fail.

Oh shit. I just thought of something. What if that halo I saw around the pickle jar was caused by microwave radiation from me cooking the popcorn? OH MY GOD! I've been mutated! Because...because! I couldn't suck the insides out of a pickle before, ever. NOOO! THIS IS THE POPCORN'S WAY OF GETTING BACK AT ME!

The popcorn is all "GRR! That stupid human is cooking me and really doesn't want to eat me. I can see her there thinking about eating the pickles on top of the microwave". And then it Carebear stares the top of the microwave with radiation, and the pickles get infected with it, and I eat one and get all mutated, and oh my God I think I can feel myself growing fangs.


I'm seriously hyperventilating right now. Also, I'm pretty sure I just saw a unicorn prance across my room into the bathroom.

I swear I'm not on drugs.

P.S. Spell check is a wonderful invention that I should use before I publish these posts.

Monday, June 15, 2009

If a possum and a human ever have offspring, I'm going to prison.

So I had a rather uneventful day today. I woke up, and felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest and didn't go to the GRE prep class I was supposed to. Don't look at the screen that way. I'm not Wonder Woman, I can't lift an elephant off my chest. I mean, it would be totally freaking awesome if I could, but I haven't been blessed like that. also, I would never wear Wonder Woman's out fit. That thing looks like it chafes, and uhh, no thanks. Chafing is of the devil, and I'm a sweet little innocent ACU girl who would never consider wearing such revealing clothing.



So basically after I woke up I took a shower and talked to Kate who is a ho really good friend of mine. Kate, don't you dare get mad at that last joke if you find it. I'm joking.

So I talked to Kate and we decided to eat "supper" together, which I totally mocked her for because the instant she said it I imagined June Cleaver for some strange reason, and no one in their right mind uses supper anymore. Except people in backwater towns with one tooth named Bubba that are married to possums.

POOMSOSA, If that offends you I don't care am sorry. No possums were harmed in the making of that thought.


So I sludged through the rest of my day, and eventually made it to "supper". Dammit, now I all can think of are rabid possums giving birth to human possum babies that take over the world.

That would be AWFUL! Can you imagine them trying to date someone? Because obviously they would be more human than possum because, duh, humans are soooo much more superior than possums.

Seriously, what if one of them tried to hit on me They'd be all "CHITTER CHITTER" and I'd be all "HEY! Posman, speak English! I don't speak possum." Yes, they're called Posman. Mostly be cause it looks like postman and that would be a hilarious mistake to make in everyday life.

So at first I'd be all wary of the relationship, but the Posman, we'll call him Jake, would be all charming and suave because he's had a rough life. And eventually I'll like, fall in love with him.

So we'd totally get married, and it would be the honey moon and I'd be all like "LET'S CONSUMMATE OUR MARRIAGE!" and he'd be all like "YEAH!" except when I walk over and go to be near him he'd get spooked by my shadow and play that possum dead thing. And then I'd be all "SHIT! He died" And try to give him CPR, and I'd accidentally kill him because I'd be so frantic, and then the police would show up and be like "MURDERER!" And I'd get thrown in jail and live the rest of my life behind bars because of the Posman's stupid possum side.

..... right. My day.

So I eventually went to dinner with Kate and dragged my friend Eric along. It was a nice dinner, except for the part where my asshole wonderful friend Eric told me they'd all ordered while I was on the phone with Harry Potter Daniel, Kate's fiance.

Then when the waitress came back I was all like "Hey, can I order" and she looked at me like I was the rudest person ever for asking that.

Which I totally understand. Except not really because that's her job, and I don't think I came across as rude when I asked it.

Anyway, we ate dinner and then I went home and watched CSI New York for like three hours, which is why I'm scrambling to finish this blog post because it's 11:52 and I want to post every day if I can. Except I can't think of anything else to write because I'm expecting policemen to bust into the scene and arrest me for murder. Grr.


I suddenly have a great hate for possums.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

I'm secretly married to a gay man except not really.

So, you know those times when you have a friend who met someone they thought they would like online, but it turned out all that person really wanted was sex, so every time they come into town they call your friend up and are all "Hey baby why don't you and I do some math together by adding a bed, subtracting the clothes, dividing the legs and multiplying?" ?

And then your friend is all "Ugh. I'm not in this for sex I just wanted a friend or something," and they start complaining and your all "I told you those e-harmony commercials were a lie." And then you do an Irish jig and decide to ignore the problem, but your friend is all upset and disturbed that this jerk keeps calling them for sex, so you can't really ignore it?

I had one of those times today. Only this friend is totally gay so it's like ten million times more awkward.

Seriously. I don't know how I get into these shenanigans, but they seem to just appear out of the sunset like Prince Charming and sweep me off my feet. Except in my version Prince Charming is a hot Irish dude riding a dragon. And he doesn't sweep me off my feet. No, that bitch can fly....

I really need to stop before I go into a meditative trance about this.

Anyway. So today my friend Jared kept on getting this guy calling him for booty calls all day. I unwittingly wandered into the picture because I decided that I would take advantage of our friendship and use his kitchen to cook a meal for us.

If any of you caught that last joke, particularly Jared, I'm just kidding. I would probably never do that.

So I'm in the middle of cooking and Jared's phone rings. This is not an odd occurrence as Jared is as addicted to his phone as I am addicted to the internet. So I go on straining macaroni, and he's all "STOP CALLING ME! I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU YOU DAMN BOOTY CALLER!"

And then I whirled around and splashed hot water on myself because Jared scared the hell out of me and shouldn't be talking to people like, regardless of who they are, only to find he didn't actually answer the phone and it was still ringing.

So I'm all "What the hell Jared. You have to open the phone for them to hear you. Seriously. You're old enough to know how to use the phone. Who was that anyway?"

And then Jared's eyes lit up like he was a lioness who had just found food for her starving pride family thing. I swear that isn't me calling him a girl because he's gay. It was just the first reference that popped into my head. I have nothing against gay people as long as they don't hit on me. Which is a moot point because I'm a woman.

Right. So Jared starts telling me this whole story about how this guy he met uses him as a booty call and blah blah blah.

And then the funniest thing happens. The guy calls back.

And Jared is all distraught and bemoaning his fate because this guy just won't leave him alone. Then he gets the idea that I should pretend to be his wife.

Normally I would be against this. I mean, that's the lamest way of getting out of a booty call ever. I would never sink to such lows.


Okay that's totally a lie. I'm all into that stuff. In fact, POOMSOSA, I go all out.

This is the conversation I had with the guy, almost word for word.

Amber: Hello, who's this? (I was totally using a Texan accent BTW)

Guy: Uhh... Can I talk to Jared.

Amber: Well this is Geneviene, his wife. He's not in right now, can I take a message? May I ask who I'm speaking to?

Guy: Umm....This is Sean.

Amber: And who might you be, Sean?

Sean: I'm...uh... his friend.

Amber: Friend? OHHHH! You're one of those friends. My Jared does like to go and have flings with men--- HAYLEY ANN! GET YOUR CLOTHES ON AND GET UPSTAIRS THIS INSTANT! DON'T MAKE ME TELL YOU AGAIN!-- Sorry about that Sean honey, my little ones are running all over the place. Now, I'd like you to not call my husband again.
He's getting right with the Lord now.

Sean: Uhh...okay?

Amber: Well thank you so much sweet-pea. Bye now!

Sean called back a little while later, and I yelled at him for it. Then he texted a few times. I think I finally go through to him when I told him that Jared had two children, and yes we made them the right way.

Regardless, this whole debacle ended in me making a Facebook for Geneviene Perkins so he could just list me as married if a guy was harassing him again.

So I'm totally married to a gay man. Except not really.

Oh God. I really hope having a fake Facebook isn't against the law. I would die. Like, the IRS would be like "Hey look, these two are married on Facebook, but they don't pay taxes! Let's investigate"

And then one day the Army or something would show up and kick in my door and be like "WHERE IS GENEVIENE PERKINS?"

And I'd be all "Umm... she's this fake person I made up so my gay friend could get out of booty calls." And then they'd be all big brother-ish and throw me in the brig for some made up charge.
Except one of the Army dudes in the platoon thing that came to get me would totally be gay, but no one would know it, and he'd stick up for me and be like "I totally understand what this woman did for her friend" And then the captain jerk of the Army would be like "Psh. Whatever. Sit down and shut up. You don't know anything."

And then the gay army dude would be like "NO! I'm totally gay and I understand! MR. GORBACHEV, TEAR DOWN THAT WALL!" Except by tear down that wall he'd mean "let the woman go free".

And then they'd let me go free, but that guy would be fired because the Army is stupid and discriminates against gay people, and then he'd be poor and out of a job and outed.


Dammit. I'm going ot get someone in the Army fired.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Sometimes I wonder if I'm in the Matrix and then I remember that I'm just addicted to the internet.

I'm going to level with you, POOMSOSA. As I sit here and try to write this blog,dying from the Bubonic Plague, (I swear to God if you bring up a Twilight reference I will cut your head off and put it on the mantle I don't have) I find that I can't think of anything to write. At all. Well, obviously that's not true because I'm actually sitting here typing stuff right now, so I'm thinking of something to write.

It just isn't interesting and/or about my life.


I guess I can just write about my internship and how that's going.

So I'm in this internship called the McNair Scholars Program. It's awesome. They pay me $2800 to do research and take some free classes (which are easy, and I get grades for so they help my GPA out WHOOP WHOOP!) and a bunch of other stuff.

Oh, I also found out they take you to a conference in Buffalo, NY, all expenses paid, to meet big wigs in our field and present our research and blah blah blah no GSB this time. It's awesome.

And I know what you're thinking POOMSOSA, "Wow! This is super awesome! CONGRATS!"



And I can promise you, the scene was not pretty.

Here's how this information center went down:

McNair Director: So we're taking you to a conference to help you get your foot in the door with big wig PhD's in your field. Cool huh?

Amber: *stops everything she's doing and starts to listen, wondering how much this will cost*

McNair Director: *clearly has mind reading powers* And it won't cost you a thing! It's all free! Hurray!

Amber: *closes her laptop... Just kidding. I didn't actually do that. I would never.*

McNair Director: Oh, and hey, when we drive back down from the conference, we're going to take you to Cedar Point in Ohio! It's a totally awesome theme park!

Amber: BINGO!

McNair Director and everyone else: o.o

Amber: Sorry. I was having World War II flashbacks.

McNair Director and everyone else: o.o

Amber: And by World War II flashbacks I totally meant playing Bingo with my twice removed great-grandma. Her names Sydney. You'd really like her. She makes a mean Echidna pie.

McNair Director: o.o

Amber: I'm just going to shut up now. Carry on.

McNair Director: .....right. So not only do you get all those things, but we're also going to stay for three days in AMISH COUNTRY! It's going to be amazing! We're going to live like the Amish, and we'll even be staying with some really important people in their community.

Amber: HALLELUJAH JES--- Wait. What? Amish Country? Uhh... AWESOME!

POOMSOSA, does it make me a terrible person that the first thing I thought after hearing about the Amish country part of this trip was the fact that I would probably have no internet?

Based on that, I don't think I need to tell you that my enthusiasm was a lie. Even though I just did, so that sentence is pretty much pointless. Yeah.

Back on topic:
I CAN'T GO TO THE AMISH COUNTRY! I can't stay with pillar families of that community.

Firstly, they have wholesome morals which I probably don't share.

Secondly, they eat weird stuff. I'm a picky eater, and I don't want to insult the Amish people.


Fourthly, ANIMALS


Have I mentioned I would have no access to technology?

I mean, we'll get there and I'll be all "Hey, do you have internet?" and they'll be all "No we don't. This is Amish country. We're old fashioned. Duh." And then I'll die of a heart attack get over it because it would be rude to pretend to have a heart attack. Except I won't really believe them because, c'mon, who doesn't like the internet? If you say you don't I'll stab you in the trachea.

So then I'll spend my whole time there dodging having to milk cows and eat organically grown food, even though I'm sure their meals are all super nutritional. then I'm going to get into a fight with the Amish dad when he tells me to eat my green-beans, and they'll like, take me out to the woodshed or something like that. And then I'll be all OW! Fine, I'll eat the green beans. Then I'll secretly throw them out the window and they'll grow a magical beanstalk into the sky, but instead of a giant up there, it's going to be a Starbucks because Starbucks owns everything, but I won't really complain be cause they'll have WIFI.

Then the Amish people will chop the bean stalk down and I'll be all like Shit. I'm stuck up here in Starbucks land with no way back.

But hey, at least I'll have internet.


I really am grateful for the trip.

But if you see something on CNN about a technology crazed lunatic that disappeared from Amish country, show someone this blog.


I blame all of this on Twitter.

Friday, June 12, 2009

There are tiny gnomes mining in my nasal passages.

Don't be alarmed by the title, POOMSOSA. I am in no way being physically harmed by the gnomes (and by gnomes I totally mean a sinus infection, just in case you get all concerned that I'm hallucinating on LSD or something).

Well, they are piling their bounty up really high, so I can't breathe out of my nose. But who needs to breathe when you have gills?

Oh right, I do.

.....Crap. Now I really want some gills.

I could be like Jaws, only ten times more awesome and 100% less deadly. This may or may not be because when I try to swim I look like a dolphin with a two peg-flippers who is in the midst of having a grand mal seizure while trying to sing and dance a show tune. Except dolphins don't have gills, so change to to a Giant Blue-Finned Tuna. Or something like that.

Hahahahah. Peg Flippers.

That wasn't supposed to be a distraction.

I no longer remember what I started writing this blog post about. Thank God for the ability to scroll on computers.

Right. The gnomes in my nasal passages. They're really irritating. If I get woken up one more time by one of them whistling "Hi-ho, hi-ho it's off to work we go" or whatever that Disney song is (please don't sue me, I'm just mentioning you guys. Seriously Disney, the gnomes in my nasal passages aren't subjects to your copy right laws. Probably because they don't exist, but whatever), I think I might remove my nose.

OH MY GOD! Then I would be like a female version of Voldemort. Except I'd totally have hair, and wouldn't have lived in the back of someone's head.

Yeah.... I think I'm going to pass on that. Voldemort isn't very attractive. Also, neither is Cedric Diggory OR Edward Cullen. That's right, I went there.

Hey, Twilight loving POOMSOSA's, don't look at me like I just kicked your dog and then swallowed your pet gold-fish whole. Contrary to popular belief, God does not kill an orphan every time someone insults Twilight.

Not that I have anything against Twilight. You can be a fan of it if you want.

Hey, stifle the groan Mythology-based nerds who might be reading this. I get really sick of the whole "Twilight is so stupid because vampires don't even look or act like that." argument. Of course they aren't BECAUSE VAMPIRES AREN'T FREAKING REAL!

Unless they are, in which case please don't come drink my blood. I'm really not that tasty, I promise. In fact, you'd probably get some kind of weird disease if you drank my blood.

I think I'm going to go nail some garlic to my door just to be on the safe side. Hopefully that weird Jamaican vampire from Twilight doesn't bust on the scene. Because apparently they aren't allergic to garlic. Then I'd be up a creek.

Except I would be dead, so it wouldn't make a difference if I were up a creek. In fact, I'd probably be on the bottom of the creek, smashing into rocks.

In case you haven't noticed, being sick totally destroys my capability of being reasonable.

I blame the drugs.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

I am not a man dressed as a wolf in sheep's clothing. I swear!

DISCLAIMER: No Giant Squid Babies, or Sheep, were harmed in the making of this post. Unless you want them to have been harmed because people are really good at convincing themselves of anything these days.

Believe it or not, I am indeed female.

I know, I know. Half of you are wondering why I am not in the kitchen making you a sandwich, and the other half are going "WTF? You have an extra rib?! You're not entitled to that because you don't follow the Woman Code! The all powerful code that all women must abide by when their girls are in trouble and need ice cream and three in the morning because some guy named Chico she'd been on-again-off again- giant squid baby-marmalade sandwiches-something something something who was a scum bag anyway ran off with their step mother, and then it turned out they were related so any children they might have had would have been mentally retarded, so that explains the giant squid baby".

To the first half of my audience, I say "HAHA! I have you beat! I am in the kitchen WITH my laptop, and if you want a sandwich it's three dollars. Unless you're Chico. Then apparently I have to hurt you or something. Also I'm pretty sure all you got out of that was giant squid baby, but whatever. I'm just going to stop that impersonation there before I feel like I need to go take a shower and scrub every single skin cell off of my body.

To the second half of my audience I say: If you are in that situation, you are a moron. Knock it off and find a real man. Also, you might want to hide the giant squid-baby. I hear the government doesn't take too kindly to those. And we don't want to government to be all RAWR at you because then you'll go all PMS-warzone I'm secretly Chuck Norris in disguise and I'm going to fix America by round-house kicking the government into shape because SQUID BABIES ARE PEOPLE TOO!

Wow, I just got violently off topic there. See, the moral of that little tidbit was to let you know that I am usually very terrible at giving girl advice. Seriously.

Apparently the girly solution to the situation above is to bring like, eight tubs of chocolate ice cream (eww, this disgusts me already) to the scene of the crime so that the girl, we'll call her Tracy, can engorge herself. Also, you're supposed to keep the giant squid baby asleep by being all motherly or something. (I'm pretty sure they just slip the kid half a Benadryl. No, I don't advocate this. Give them a full one. Haha, just kidding. I know I'm a terrible person for making that joke). Then you start talking about what a jerk Chico is and how Tracy never should see him again and just become the single mother of a Giant Squid Baby, even though she's too proud to ask for assistance. We'll just ignore the fact that even though Chico is jerk, he still has some custody over the giant squid baby (I'm sick of typing this, so we'll just call it GSB from now on) and makes more money than Tracy anyway, so she'd probably lose custody of the GSB and then be all heartbroken and sad for the rest of her life until she finds another fixer-upper man to waste her life away on.

I feel dirty just for typing that. My advice to that problem is much more simple and direct:

Step One: You shouldn't have been in this relationship in the first place. Get over it.

Step Two: To avoid custody battles, tabloids, press time, and the government, dispose of the Giant Squid Baby. It’s not human anyway. It's a freaking GIANT SQUID! Don't look at me like that. Seriously, tabloids are crazy. And if you think you won't get harassed, you're wrong. Look at Octo-mom, or whatever. She was harassed forever, and she wasn't even an OCTOPUS! You have a giant squid baby! That's like, TV GOLD!

How can you do this? Well, adoption isn't really an answer, but making giant calamari is.

See, simple and easy. And delicious. All you have to do is pop the calamari in the oven or fry it take the first step This is an win-win situation!

Okay, I definitely feel the need to say here and now, just in case someone gets offended, that I do not advocate the cooking or disposal of babies. The above advice was based on an extremely hypothetical (and potentially very tasty) situation. I'm sure the government would have released the giant squid baby into the sea, after making sure it was nurtured, so that it could live in an appropriate and non-tabloid or being experimented on way.

Now that the second disclaimer is over, I guess I'll quit rambling about giant squid babies.

Okay. I can't stop thinking about GSB now.


Alright. Done.

Now, don't get me wrong, POOMSOSA. I do enjoy giving advice when people actually need it. My advice is always good and flowy and makes perfect sense.

Okay, that's totally a lie. I can't even type that with a straight face. My advice is usually good, but sometimes I get tempted to play the devil's advocate.

Usually I use this tool whenever one of my friends who happen to be a girl (because if I say girlfriend some people in here might be all OMG! LESBIAN BURN THE WITCH!) comes to me with a legitimate problem, and a legitimate solution, but their solution is completely wrong for the situation because it's tempered by the kryptonite of reason, Estrogen. Also, I happen to be extremely bored during these adventures.

Yes. I'm making that stand right now. Estrogen is one of the many kryptonites’ of reason. Don't fight with me on this. I will win.

Basically what I'm saying is that I give the best advice EVER.

Here is an example:

[09:54] Holli: However, babies make it hard to finish school
[09:55] Holli: Which is the ONLY reason I agreed to wait.
[09:55] Holli: Despite my future mother-in-laws pleas to give her grandbabies

[09:56] Amber: Heheh
[09:56] Holli: and the pleas from my effeminate maternal inner self to listen to her and not reason
[09:56] Amber: You should probably stop. I'm seriously tempted to play devil's advocate.
[09:57] Holly: LoL... in the words of my womb "Doo Itt!"
[09:57] Amber: I think I'll resist.
[09:57] Amber: For once.
[09:58] Holli: Either way, it is planned... and it is the best compromise I have.
[09:58] Amber: That's true.
[09:58] Amber: Unless you have sex like, a hundred times a week. Because if you're on the pill, and you do that, there is like, a .01 chance that you'll get pregnant or something.
[09:58] Holli: I am allowed to try for babies when I graduate as long as at least one of us has a job and we have a home.
[09:58] Holli: LMAO
[09:59] Holli: One would really get sore like that

[09:59] Amber Deschamps: And if you're doing this every week in the year, that's like a .52 chance you'll get pregnant, guilt free.

See, best advice ever.


Does it make me a horrible person if I want calamari right now?