Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I love my friends.

One of my favorite things about my friends is that no matter how weird I'm being, they usually always play along.

For instance, today I sent out a mass text to a few of my pals with an absurd question just to see what responses I would get back. Well, let me just tell you. I am SO much more in love with my friends because of what they came back with. You have no idea.

This was my text;
"You're in a forest and all you have is a compass, a book, and a knife. A bear comes at you to attack. So I ask you. What color is the book?"

I know it's weird...

Not one of my friends responded with anything like, "Kelly...what the heck?" or "What???"

I love my friends.

Here are the responses.

- "Human color. So I can throw it at the bear and distract his ass before I make a killing blow with my compass. Or knife, which ever."

- "Red"

- "It doesn't say. Furthermore, I don't think I'd care to look, a freakin' grizzly bear is about to swat my face off."

- "Um. Book is black."

- "I'm being attacked by a bear! Stop distracting me by asking unimportant questions, Kelly, so I can concentrate on killing him with my knife!"

- "Perriwinkle"

- "Haha now it's whatever color the bear's blood is :)"

- "Blue or red, why?"

- "Is that Michael Scott?"

Thank you, my friends. You keep me weird.

Because of you guys, I will never find the noodle I lost long ago.

Umm...That was weird...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The Fierceness in Me

I'm going to be up front with you from the beginning. This story is pretty anti-climatic.


Boy, does it have a point. A point that I will get to later.

So the other night I was studying. Studying intensely. Studying intensely at 3:30 in the morning. Making some flashcards, reading some notes, looking over my study guide, etc. My first test of the semester was the next afternoon and I was going to take it DOWN. To. The. Ground. Because I'm fierce.

Stephanie, my roommate, had gone to bed long before so I was on my own. There was some serious butterflyage going on in the ol' tum-tum here. I was nervous about how I was going to do, I was nervous that I was going to fall asleep at any second while trying to study, and I was nervous I was going to be up so late that I would get no sleep for my test. I do that, you know. I stay up all night the night before a test and pretend like I can handle not sleeping. I can't handle it. But I'm fierce.

Anyway, so there I am, sitting at my dinner table, studying my little brain away when all of a sudden there was this ear-deafening explosion. BOOOOOOM!!! It sounded as if it were right outside my door. Then the electricity went out leaving nothing but my battery powered laptop screen to light the area around me. My heart immediately sunk to my toes. For a few short seconds, I lost control over all of my muscles and just sat there stiff and in shock. "This is it," I thought. "My nightmare coming true. A man is about to break in...and bad things are going to happen." I seriously thought that was the end for me. I don't know why I sat there in such a panic for so long. I honestly think it was only for a few seconds but it felt like forever. I was just waiting for it to all go down. I was not fierce.

All of a sudden I started getting angry. "You know what?!" I thought. "This would freaking happen. Here I am, happy as a clam, studying for my test when BOOM some fool comes in to mess up my groove. This SO would happen now." And then I got angrier. Because I'm fierce.

"Nope. Not tonight....or this morning... No. Not on my watch. No one will come in and hurt me. No one will touch my roommate. No one will wreck my home. THIS IS MY HOUSE." And that's when I got really fierce. Not as fierce as Beyonce but definitely more fierce than a mama bear.

I walked to my room, grabbed my tazer (yes, I own a tazer), and made my way back to my spot at my table. And then I waited for him. The intruder, I mean. I just sat there in the dark waiting...for something. I think I was so driven by fear that I just wasn't really thinking straight. I was ready though. Why? Because I'm fierce.

Pretty soon I heard the two guys who live next door come out of their apartment. "What was that?! It scared the heck out of me!" (Of course, there was some cursing.) I listened for a minute. Listening for something to happen. Maybe an attack or something? I'm not sure. But nothing did. And they started commenting on the exploded electrical box on the street that had sparks flying out of it and such. So I wound up just going out there and discussing it with them. Not so fierce.

So it wasn't the most fierce story ever. But that's not the point.

The point that I referred to earlier is this. I am fierce. Incredibly fierce.

But I also like flowers and babies...

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Confessions of a So-Called Lady

Look, I don't care if guys keep the toilet seat up.

I'm not sure if this kicks me out of the I-Am-Woman Club, but the habit is just not one that has ever bothered me.

I actually don't understand what it is about this that bothers women so much. Is it that the task of putting the seat back down is just too heavy of a burden for us? Sure, maybe having the guys put it back down for us would be courteous. But is it worth the fight that it has become?

A friend of mine was telling me how it drives her crazy when she goes to the bathroom and the seat is up. Why?! Why does it affect XX chromosome carriers SO. MUCH? Is it such an inconvenience? 

There is always the "Well we are the ones who have to have the babies. We have to be pregnant. We have to have our menstrual cycle every single month. It's the least they can do." excuse.

Frankly, I want to light that excuse's house on fire and just get rid of it all together.

Ladies, we do not need to make men suffer because we were blessed with the gift of child birth. The GIFT of childbirth. Not the burden. It's not their fault they cannot bear children so they do not need to be blamed.

Yes, I do appreciate the door being held for me. Yes, I do appreciate the seat being placed back down. Yes, I do appreciate a man letting me go before him in line. Not because I'm incapable of opening a door, putting the seat down, or waiting in line. Simply because I enjoy being a lady and thanking a man for being such a gentleman.

The following paragraph may be too much information:

As far as our menstrual cycles. You can ask any of my roommates from the past year (Stephanie, Ashley, or Elizabeth) about how much I love when my period comes and how excited I get about it. I literally sing praises. The cramps, the cycle, the aching back. I love all of it. Why? Because my cycle tells me everything is working correctly. That this thing that's happening to my body means that one day I will be able to have a baby. That I can bring a life into the world. Your menstrual cycle is a glorious, magnificent gift. Unfortunately for the people around us, it does bring mood swings occasionally, but overall, it's so, so beautiful. It bothers me when I hear ladies complain about it all the time. I totally understand it can be painful and inconvenient and uncomfortable. And for some people it's worse than others, I know that first hand. But it means we're capable of something amazing!! Isn't that wonderful?! I am truly joyful about the whole moonflow situation. Who's with me??! *crickets*

Aaaaaanyway. That's quite enough of that.

I love being a lady. I love being feminine and adventurous. I love being both tender and fierce.

So after this confession, I ask all the women reading this:

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Long Time No Blog

Well, folks, school has definitely started because I have not blogged once since the first day of school.

Things have just been crazy lately, and I haven't been able to justify posting any entries because there is always something like homework or reading that I should be doing instead. And right now, I'm all about the schoolwork. 

So does anyone remember my Accident Prone post?

Well this weekend I worked an overnight retreat with a few of my friends and I came back with an extremely attractive limp.

I was kicking a soccer ball around with the guys thinking I could handle their intensity because I apparently lost all of my brain cells since school started. Turns out I couldn't handle it, and I fell on my knee showing everyone how graceful I really am, and now I am Miss Gimpy. I've been calling the limp my swagger but no one is buying it. Probably because I'm a white girl with red hair and freckles and white girls with red hair and freckles don't have swaggers but I don't know.

My limp is really attractive. It attracts people.

So does my balloon of a left knee.

I went to sleep with this huge plastic bag full of ice that Adolfo and Jason got for me. I didn't mean to fall asleep with it on. I was simply following some rules Jason gave me to help the swelling. Anyway, it leaked all night into my sleeping bag and I woke up completely drenched in water with nothing but an empty Zip-loc to show for it.


Cute. *Shoots you with eye daggers.*

I'm pretty sure my knee is just aggravated, and I'll be good to go by Tuesday. You know what? Let's pray that's the case because I REALLY don't feel like limping across the quad. *seizure*

My mom would be proud though. I had my insurance card.