Sometimes, Kids do Stupid Things.

And sometimes, kids let stupid things happen through their inaction.

When I was younger-- maybe nine or ten-- a girl moved in down the block. This girl's name was Lissa. Well, it was probably Melissa, but I only knew her as Lissa.

Lissa was cool. Unspeakably cool. Her mother let her do whatever she wanted. Lissa was only a couple years older than me, and she didn't have a curfew. I was too young to understand that this was probably a result of bad parenting. I'd lived with my parents who wouldn't even let me cross the street by myself all my life. Hell, when I'd run halfway down the street to go play with another neighbor of mine, my mother would watch from the front porch like a hawk. So in my young and unadjusted mind, this older, rebellious girl was a badass.

Lissa and I hung out a few times. Everything was awesome.

One day, Lissa came over to my house to play. My older sister wasn't home. Lissa had a fantastic idea.

Lissa wanted to play with a Ouija board.

I didn't know what a Ouija board was-- and I assured her I didn't have any such thing in my possession. I was politely confused but desperately curious.

So Lissa left. My mother had gone to the store, and my father was puttering around outside. When Lissa returned, she had a black sharpie, scissors, and a large piece of cardboard.

And, on the floor in my room, Lissa constructed a homemade Ouija board. It was around that time, looking at the deceptively innocent-looking piece of cardboard laying on my floor, that I began to get a bad feeling. I asked her what the Ouija board was for-- what it did-- what kind of game lacked dice, chutes, ladders, or brightly-coloured fake money.

When Lissa told me that a Ouija board let you ask questions and talk to ghosts, all the hair on my arms stood up. This was sounding more and more like a terrible idea, and I was quickly growing sure that I wanted no part of this. However, Lissa, being older and cooler, was in charge. I didn't dare tell her that I didn't want to talk to dead people, because then she would think I was lame and wouldn't want to hang out anymore.

So Lissa and I hunched over the Ouija board and she started asking questions. I distinctly remember feeling sick as the piece of cardboard she'd cut out to be the planchette started moving to letters and numbers. I don't know if Lissa was pushing it or if it was actually moving on its own, and to this day, I really don't care.

I don't remember what she asked or what the answers were, but I know that when I heard my mother walk into the house carrying the groceries, I was unspeakably relieved. Lissa told me not to tell my mother about the Ouija board and to hide it. I did exactly as she instructed.

Lissa went home and a few days passed without incident.

However, it needs to be said that I am just terrible at hiding things.

My mother found the Ouija board and, understandably, freaked out. What followed was a long line of her angry questioning and me sobbing uncontrollably as I ratted Lissa out like a coward. I didn't even feel bad for doing so. I wanted to wash my hands of the whole affair and be free from talking to dead people.

My mother, thankfully, believed me, and told me that I wasn't in trouble, but that I wasn't allowed to hang out with Lissa anymore. I wasn't even that upset about it. Frankly, I'd started to realize that maybe Lissa was just a lunatic with parents who didn't care if she stayed out til 11 at night and spent her time talking to ghosts.

I've not seen Lissa since then. I'm okay with that-- especially because I now know what Ouija boards are actually capable of. The world of the paranormal greatly interests me, but I can safely say that I certainly don't bring Ouija boards along with me to possibly-haunted locations. As a matter of fact, I haven't laid a finger on one. Parker Brothers is stupid for deciding that those things needed to be made into a kids' toy.

Migraine Battle 2010

Four days ago, I woke up with a migraine. This is not unusual for me-- I get migraines pretty frequently, sometimes as many as two or three times a week. Usually, I get the migraine, take some ibuprofen/naproxen sodium/whatever is on hand. If I have to go to work, I just tough it out and pray the migraine goes away before too long. Typically, after I get some sleep, it's gone.

But this migraine is different. This one is special.

As I said, I woke up with a migraine four days ago. This thing hasn't gone away, despite my best efforts. It started innocently enough. The pain set in gradually, creeping in with such subtlety and malice that I didn't realize it was happening at first.
INDEED. If only I'd known what. I'd like to believe that if I'd started taking tylenol or something at that stage, I wouldn't be where I am today. Ah well, wish in one hand and shit in the other; see which one fills up first.

That was Friday. I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons with my friends that day. We went to lunch beforehand. It was shortly before that, that I realized what was happening to me. Horrified and alarmed, I took some ibuprofen. I was not going to let the migraine defeat me.

I took the bottle with me in my purse to lunch and then to Dungeons and Dragons afterward, just in case. The migraine didn't let up and before long I was squinting at my character sheet and doing my damndest to laugh at every joke, not break character, and generally try to make everyone believe my migraine had gone away and I was, in fact, fine.

Many hours later when we called it quits, not all of us were ready to just go home, myself included. I'd taken some more ibuprofen and I was starting to feel a little bit better. Surely, I thought, my migraine had gone away. So a few of us decided to play Magic the Gathering.

Until 3 AM.

Well, I went home and went to bed. When I woke up later on Saturday, my migraine was reminding me that it had never gone away at all, and that the horror was only beginning.

The next two days were a blur of me laying in bed, feeling sorry for myself and drinking lots of water. I also tried putting vapor rub under my eyes and nose in the hopes that I was dealing with a sinus headache and that the vapor rub would open up my sinuses and everything would magically be fine.

This was not the case.

Last night ended with me going in the bathroom and turning on the shower as hot as it would go to fill the bathroom with steam. I hoped that perhaps that would help. I know, stupid-- but I was desperate at that point.

The migraine was winning. It wouldn't go away. So I went to bed.

It's still winning today. Like an army of rabid hamsters gnawing on my brain, it's winning. But I will not give up. This damn thing is gonna go away and I'm going to get back to living in peace.

Never stop fighting! YEAAAAAH!

On my Absence

Wow, I'm sorry I haven't been making posts the past few days. I know that makes me a bad person. However, I've been depressed about my job and that, I realized, has made me write... less-funny, more-angry posts. And nobody needs to read that. BUT there clouds on the horizon are going to break.

I had an interview today at Qdoba, which is kind of like the... I dunno. Subway of Mexican food? You build your own tasty burrito and it's kind of amazing. No lie. But I digress! My interview went well and now I'm just waiting on a call back about my schedule. Rest assured, I'll be keeping my phone glued to me, straining desperately to hear Lady Gaga singing 'Telephone' at me.

It'll be like this.

I'll be sitting by myself, quietly reading or playing around on the computer, when suddenly, I'll hear a NOISE! I'll flip out about it and immediately zoom in on my phone... only to realize that my phone was not responsible. I'll be disappointed and go back to what I was doing. This cycle will most likely repeat itself endlessly.

Also, I'm sorry about the abnormally bad quality of that drawing. My good mouse is wireless and uses AA batteries, but it died and I don't have anymore... so I had to use my crappy mouse which doesn't like to move or click. And as those are the two major functions of a mouse and it sucks at both, that's a problem.

So I'll have to get batteries today. I hope I remember them...

Happy Halloween!

So this year for Halloween I was gonna be Jem from the TV show. It was gonna be fantastic. Outrageous, even. I was gonna be CUTE, something like the drawing that I have so kindly provided. And seriously, you should be amazed because I definitely drew that in less than five minutes, because I'm under a major time crunch and need to get to work soon.

Now, my Halloween plans were not spoiled because of work-- I'm gonna be out of there by 9 at the absolute latest.

No, my plans were foiled by wigs.

You see, the Halloween costume stores in town didn't provide wigs that were large enough in size and volume to look like Jem's fierce 80s hair. I looked for pink wigs, but I also looked for blonde wigs that I could just dye pink.

Nothing.

I was a little bit heartbroken. I'm not gonna lie. But not to be deterred, I went to the internet. Ebay had a few wigs that were appropriately big and 80s-licious, but they were 200+ dollar drag queen wigs and I don't make enough money with my crappy job at Target to afford to drop 200 bucks on a wig I was going to wear once, or maybe twice if I went as Jem a couple years in a row for Halloween.

So as today drew closer and closer, my hopes dwindled. And today is Halloween. No wig. I didn't even bother to try and sew my dress because I didn't feel like wasting the time on it if I didn't get to dress up. Tonight I suppose I'll be sitting in front of my computer, lamenting the fact that I could be out partying.

So, my readers, I beseech you. Party hard for me. Be outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.

Headless Horseman.

This is a post about World of Warcraft. If you aren't interested in World of Warcraft... well, I can't say DON'T READ THIS because I honestly tried to make it funny, and not just in the realm of WoW humor. But yeah. If you're scowling right now at the fact that I decided to write about World of Warcraft-- I mean actually, scowling, mean-mugging and all that-- then yeah, you probably should sit this one out.

World of Warcraft does a lot of extra stuff to go with the various seasons in real life. I dunno if this is to remind 900-pound mouthbreathing neckbeards that there is still an actual outside world, or what. Either way, it makes for a nice diversion from the usual World of Warcraft activities.

Naturally, the current event, Hallow's End, is Halloween-oriented. You can visit inns and trick or treat, get candy, put on masks that look like other races, all sorts of good stuff. But Hallow's End has an antagonist.

I'm talking about the Headless Horseman. You see, the Headless Horseman is a pyromaniac. All he does is ride around on his magical flying horse and light towns on fire-- while players scramble to put them out. You get loot for doing this, which is nice, but there are a couple of problems with it. He seriously shows up like every five minutes. And he yells. In rhyme.

So you're minding your own business in a town, just chilling, and all of a sudden you hear this.

"Prepare yourselves, the bells have tolled! Shelter your weak, your young and your old! Each of you shall pay the final sum! Cry for mercy; the reckoning has come!"

This is followed by the most ridiculous, terrible laughter ever. EVER. It's kind of a.... "BAAAAWWWWHAWHAWHAWHAWHAWWWW."

Other well-written (ha!) Horseman lines include:

• The sky is dark. The fire burns. You strive in vain as Fate's wheel turns.
• My flames have died, left not a spark! I shall send you now to the lifeless dark!
• So eager you are, for my blood to spill. Yet to vanquish me, 'tis my head you must kill!

So yeah, after you put out his fires, he comes riding down out of the sky and you get to kill him, but lo! You can't because that's not his head. So where's his head at? In a dungeon, of course.

So you and your friends form a bitchin' team to go into the dungeon and kick his ass, where he spouts off yet more awesome rhymes. You beat the snot out of him until his head flies off. You then have to kill the head of the Horseman. So you finally kill him, silencing him... until you next enter a town, or until the next day when you come back to the dungeon again.

And then you get loots! The most coveted loot that he drops is a special mount-- it's his horse! It's his FLYING HORSE. Dear lord, you people have no idea how much I want to ride around on a flying horse. My character would look something like this.



My mage would be all "HELLS YEAAAAH!" and would fly around in front of the moon and throw fire at people and--

And then I realized. The Headless Horseman was a pyromaniac. And when I thought about getting the horse for my character, the first thing that popped into my head was that.

Clearly, the Horse is what turns people into pyromaniacs. There's no other explanation. That animal is evil and ought to be taken out back and shot for driving its riders into a state of madness.

...That doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying to get the horse for myself.

*cough*

Truthfully, I've Always Been Evil.

Growing up, I hated school. I hated high school, as many kids do, but I also hated grade school with a passion. I enjoyed learning. I liked to read and study. But my mother had been very concerned with me growing up in a 'nurturing' learning environment where I would receive a good education. And, because my family was Roman Catholic, I was put through Catholic school from day one of kindergarten.

Now, the stereotype is that kids who go to private school are rich. I was not. My family was rather poor, and financial aid was the only reason I 'got' to go to Catholic school. Some of my classmates were obscenely rich, and there were only a handful of students who came from middle-income families.

Now, this coupled with the fact that I wore my older sister's hand-me-downs (which were in good enough shape, but clearly dated) and god-awful ugly sweatsuits my mother bought me from K-Mart...
(Except that mine were always like... royal purple and had teddy bears and shit on em) ...meant that everyone knew I was poor. I didn't even have a pair of jeans. Jeans were clothing that only the unspeakably rich and cool wore. Jeans were a status symbol. Now, my school instated uniforms within a couple years of my attending, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

I was poor and gangly and awkward and everyone knew it. I was by far the tallest kid in the class, easily a full head and shoulders taller than even the boys. I was also terrible at sports, and I wasn't involved in any kinds of clubs or Girl Scouts or anything else. And I was, essentially, a very young nerd. My mom had told me to always try my best and put forth 100% effort. I did that. I read books constantly. I sang louder than anyone else in music class. I swear I even PRAYED harder when we went to mass.

So in that respect, I shot myself in the foot. I was poor, awkward, and I was a geek on top of everything else. I was ridiculed constantly.

Constantly.

I was the first one in my class to have to have glasses-- I wore out my eyes playing Final Fantasy VII the year my family pooled together and bought me a Playstation for Christmas. So yeah. I was a video game and computer nerd, too.

But I've digressed. I was the first one in my class to get glasses, and that only gave the popular kids more ammunition to use in their daily rituals of tormenting me. I began to realize that even if I suddenly became rich and gorgeous, they would never like me. Nothing I could do would ever win them over and make them want to befriend me. So all the sadness turned into loathing. I despised my classmates. I had two-- maybe three friends. The rest of them, I probably would have thought about knifing in a back alley if I'd had a knife.

What? I was emotionally and mentally mature for a child. I was watching the Alien series by the time I was like seven. Blood and gore didn't disturb me, and I also took to listening to grunge music on my sister's radio anytime she wasn't around. I feel that I understood much more complex feelings than other children my age did. And at that time, I understood that I was very nearly alone in the world that I knew. It was a pretty miserable time for me. I was made fun of on a daily basis for being poor and wearing glasses and being different from the other kids. In hindsight, I should have told a teacher or someone that my childhood was a living hell, but I didn't. That would have been tattling. So I kept it all in.

When I was eight, I broke my leg. It's a fun story, but it's another story for another day. The accident, however, left me in a cast up to my hip for about six weeks. I was on crutches, of course. My parents had to move my bed down to the living room that winter because I couldn't make it up and down the stairs to my room. I had to have help getting to the bathroom. My mom took me to a local salon to have them wash my hair every couple of days because wrapping my cast in saran wrap and helping me stand up in the bathtub to take a shower was pretty much impossible. Long story short, it was just another chapter of Suck in the book that was my young life.

When I went back to school, the ridicule began afresh. And it was worse because I didn't even get to go out at recess. I had to stay inside and look out at them all while they played.

And it was there, in the classroom, that I began to concoct a plan for revenge. It had to be subtle and it had to look like an accident, because if I did anything overt, it would be obvious that I was responsible. And as I looked around the empty classroom, seeking some vessel for vengeance, I laid eyes on Male Classmate One's desk. I hated Male Classmate One. He was like the ringleader of the boys in ridiculing me, and all the little popular girls had stupid childish crushes on him. Male Classmate One was an asshole.

So I decided that I was going to make Male Classmate One look like a bitch.

Silently thanking my good fortune that all my teachers liked me and thought I was just some poor, kind, awkward nerd-child and thus didn't need supervision during recess, I grabbed my crutches and hopped my way over to Male Classmate One's desk. I took a moment to plan. And then it struck me.


I loosened all the bolts on Male Classmate One's chair. Every single one of them. It took a bit of work, but I got it-- luckily for me, all of the bolts on his chair were already loose enough that I could unscrew them. You see, Male Classmate One was one of those kids who would lean back in his chair all the time even though we were constantly told not to do that, because doing that damaged the structural integrity of the chair. Specifically, it put strain on the bolts, and over time, worked them loose.

I cautiously put a hand on the seat of the chair and tested it. It wobbled just slightly. Perfect. Satisfied, I hobbled on over to my desk and picked up my book and started to read.

Recess ended and my classmates came back inside. They all sat back down and class started again. I glanced subtly up from my textbooks every now and then. Yep, Male Classmate One was leaning back in his chair and trying to look cool. Time passed and I began to worry that I hadn't gotten the bolts loose enough.

And then, about a half-hour before lunch, with a loud crash, the legs detached from the seat of the chair and Male Classmate One, still sitting on the chair, hit the ground with a thud. It was too perfect. He literally went from sitting on the chair to sitting on the floor. He hadn't struck anything on his way down. And then, Male Classmate One began crying like a bitch.

Truthfully, I might have felt guilty if my actions had hurt him. But he was completely unharmed, saved for a bruised ego. And you know what? I never told Male Classmate One that I was responsible for it. I never plan on doing so. Score one for Laura. Revenge was sweet.

Work.

This was me at work tonight. Sad, but true. I officially hate my job. I hate working with bitchy females. I hate serving coffee to pretentious, rich assholes who think they have the right to talk down to me because I'm stuck making their drink.

And I hate people who show up five minutes before closing time.

Time literally CRAWLED by tonight. I thought that the clocks had broken at one point because it was seriously 7:39 for what felt like an hour and a half.

So when 8:55 rolled around, this was me.

Finally, it was almost time for me to be free from the soul-leeching essence of the Target Starbucks. I turned away for thirty seconds to start wiping down my countertops-- and then I saw this.



Alright, I thought to myself. One more customer wasn't so bad. It's obnoxious when they show up right before I'm about to close, but it's okay. I made them the yearned-for mocha latte and they went away. But then I saw this.


Okay. Fine, rude blonde woman. I'll make your drinks too. Stop pointing at me and waving your money in my face and I'll get right on that.

By the time I finished making THOSE drinks, it was 9:06. I looked around. The coast was clear. I ran for the lights and shut them off. As I came back, though, this is what I saw.

When I politely informed them that Starbucks had closed at 9, this is what I saw.




Some of them whined. Some of them protested. Some of them glared at me but stormed away. One woman tried to tell me she'd been waiting there since 8:55 and that she'd never been helped. I politely tried to assure her that I was the only worker, and that I had been at the counter at 8:55 and had even helped other customers who were there. So when trying to lie to me didn't work, she told me that she was going to call corporate and have me fired. I told her my name and wished her the best of luck. That seemed to confuse her. She asked if I had heard her correctly. I assured her I had. She left in a huff and I closed Starbucks without further incident.

I officially hate my job.

So, I Finally...

...got around to watching Silent Hill today. You've probably heard of the popular video game series, but you may or may not have heard of the movie. Well, I've always really enjoyed Silent Hill's and Resident Evil's gameplay, but I figured that the movie would be just terrible. Hence, why I'd never watched it before. When I saw that it was on SyFy, I figured, "Why not?" and turned it on.

But you know what? I was pleasantly surprised.

The movie stayed incredibly faithful to the games' standards.
The creepy fog that surrounds and obscures your various characters throughout the course of the games was back in the movie, which I loved right away. You never knew what was out there in the fog, and overall the town was so still and quiet that the creep factor was amplified right away.

Another thing I loved? All the monsters featured in the movie were taken directly from the games.
You can look at her cleavage, but she'll probably cut you. Oh wait, this was a screenshot from one of the games.

Now, the nurses are one of the most widely-recognized enemies in the games, and much of the movie elapsed without so much as a knife-wielding twitch.

And then, the heroine ran right into this.
And I said, plain as anything, "Oh shit."

The movie was, overall, filled with those 'Oh shit' moments.

Another awesome nod to the series?Cybil! Now, there were other character-nods from the games too, but Cybil's was by far the best. And I'd hate to fill this post with spoilers.



But here's where my problems come in. There are no characters that you can really identify with. Crazy sleepwalking child? Not so much. Crazy old cultist leader woman? Nope. Crazy old hobo woman? Not really. Crazyass mom who you're supposed to identify with but can't? Crazy scary Samara-looking girl? Crazy dirty cultist girl?

Are you noticing a trend here? That's one of my other problems with this film. Just about everyone is crazy. Now, there are varying levels of the crazy, ranging from kooky to batshit, but they're all lunatics in one way or another.

Also, the plot gets a little convoluted. It's nothing that you can't understand, but it kinda left me going "Huh...?"

All in all, it wasn't a bad film-- it was quite enjoyable, honestly! It was a fun story, and if you enjoyed the games, you will absolutely love the movie too.

One last note?

Pyramid Head. Can't go wrong with the fact that they featured good old Pyramid Head in the movie.

Bitch, Please

OH MY GOD. MY FRIEND JESSICA (ERINDAE) DREW ME THIS PICTURE IN MS PAINT AFTER SHE READ MY LAST BLOG POST AND YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I AM. Even the capitals do not adequately express how much I love the drawing she made me.

OH. MY. GOD.

This is fantastic, and it really captures how much I hate my coworker right now.


Erindae, I love you forever. Thank you so much for drawing me this.

Dear Coworker.

Two weeks ago, Coworker, you left a note on the whiteboard at work saying that you could no longer work Wednesdays. I was fine with this; if you couldn't close Wednesday nights, then I could just take those shifts and get more hours every week. I volunteered to work Wednesday, September 29th for you. You agreed, and I filled out the necessary information on the Swap Shift Board next to the timeclock.

I noticed when I came in on the 29th that you were also scheduled to work Wednesday, October 6th. I left a note in the communications log that basically said, "Hey, I see you're scheduled next Wednesday. If you want me to work for you, let me know."

Now, I also closed Thursday, September 30th. Thursday, September 30th, was my last day of work for nearly a week. You never called me. You never texted me. And because I wasn't scheduled to work, I didn't come in to check and see if you'd written me a note back in the notebook-- frankly, that would have been stupid, and a waste of gas.

So, I waited for nearly a week. I kept my phone on my person at all times. I checked it regularly to see if I'd missed a call or a message from you, Coworker. You never tried to get in touch with me. I could only assume that you either decided to work on Wednesday, October 6th, or you got someone else to cover that shift.

So, when I got a phone call on Wednesday, October 6th, at 3 PM, I was confused. The person who called me, Coworker, was asking me where I was. They asked me why I wasn't at work. They asked me if I planned on coming in. I had a migraine. I was confused, in pain, and tremendously worried. I explained as concisely as I could that while I had offered to take your shift, Coworker, I'd never heard back from you and thus had no idea that I was supposed to be working.

So the truth came out. Did you expect that it wouldn't? Coworker, you wrote me a note saying that yes, you wanted me to work for you that day. You also wrote on the Swap Shift Board that you wanted to get rid of the shift-- but since I didn't know that, I never signed it, saying I would work. You just assumed that I'd been there, knew about it, and signed off on it.

Guess what, Coworker. That's not how it works. Until you see someone's signature next to that shift and you know that it's been changed in the computer, that shift is still your responsibility.

I closed tonight, Thursday, October 7th. Upon reviewing the communications log, I found the nasty little note you wrote me in your obnoxiously-giant handwriting. Your note said something to the effect of, "You could have at least let me know you didn't still want the shift, I assumed you did. Next time just tell me so I know, this really messed my personal schedule up, blah blah blah."

Really, Coworker?

You're still trying to throw me under the bus?

So, Coworker, I wrote a note of my own. And I freely admit, it was eloquent and snide and frankly, I talked to you as if you were stupid in it-- because you are. I explained to you that your shift was still your responsibility until someone signed that they would take it. I explained that writing me a note that I never saw didn't do a lot of good. I explained that I had my phone on me-- that you could have called or texted me anytime.

I hope that tomorrow, when you read it, you realize what a moron you are. I also hope that someone tells you off because you were lazy and left the entire pallet of the truck shipment out in the middle of the Starbucks, in everyone's way, because you didn't feel like doing manual labor and putting it all away. I put it all away tonight, even though the person who was supposed to close the Target Cafe called in and I had to close both sides down by myself. But you don't care, do you? You're a selfish, impossibly stupid female and all you do during your shifts is sit back in the back and text people.

You tried to throw me under the bus yesterday, Coworker. You tried to get me in trouble to save your own ass-- and in so doing, you attempted to screw with my job, my income, and therefore my livelihood.

I'm not going take that laying down.

I already spoke to my manager about the events when I worked today. I will have you know I explained in nothing but the truth, and I pointed out the notes I left, as well as my schedule. My manager agrees-- I am not to blame in this situation.

So, through hasty defense of my job, I kept my ass out of the fryer. But you know what, Coworker? I've had enough. You've always been a mouthy little disrespectful bitch to me. In fact, it's common knowledge that you don't like me. I've had other people ask me why I left you talk to me the way you do. And all of the other workers, save for my manager, know that you're lazy and utterly useless.

I think, Coworker, that it's high time I put a stop to it. When I come in on Saturday, if I see you in the back, sitting on the stepladder and texting people when you're supposed to be working, I'm going to take a picture of it. I'm going to collect evidence that you're a lazy piece of shit, and I'm going to show show it to the manager. What the manager decides to do from there is up to her. But frankly, I hope she fires you. You're a liar, you're lazy, and you constantly call in sick because you're hung over from partying like the boozing little slut you are.

Coworker, I've had enough of your shit. I've worked at a movie theater, at Wal-Mart, Panera Bread, a bakery, Steak-n-Shake, and a few other places. I have worked with some lazy people. But you, Coworker, take the cake. You are the single most worthless piece of trash I have ever had the displeasure of working with, and I'm going to do everything in my power to put a stop to it.

This means war.

Laura's Guide to Woman-Wrangling

I figured since I wrote a blog post that was pretty much female exclusive recently, I should write a blog for the menfolk. And so here it is. A blog post written by a woman, about women, for men. And lesbians, although they're more likely to already know this sort of thing.

Women Like...

• Affirmation

No matter what your girlfriend/fiancee/wife is like-- no matter now confident and self-assured she is-- she needs to feel reassured. If she's dressed up to see you, tell her she looks good. Women like hearing that their partners find them attractive. Doesn't it give you an ego boost if she tells you that she thinks you're handsome? There's some basic logic for you.

• Listening

Sure, we nag. Sure, it gets annoying. But honestly, ignoring us only makes it so much worse. And as long as you aren't dating a psychobitch, you know what? We're usually nagging for a reason-- like you got urine on the toilet seat when you were drunk, or you (surprise surprise) have been ignoring us. So basically, if you're with a girl who has a good head on her shoulders, if you hear her out, she won't have a reason to bitch at you.

• Attention

For the love of God, look at me when I talk to you. Have you heard that phrase before? Well, put down the XBox controller. Tell your World of Warcraft guild that you'll be right back. Tell your guy friends that you'll be over to watch the game soon. Now, only paying half-attention to your partner is something women are guilty of too. Sometimes, bitches are glued to their cell phones. So if she's griping that you aren't listening to her, you can potentially turn it around (but do so as nicely and sincerely as possible) and ask her to listen to you when you want to talk. PROTIP: Don't say she has your attention and then try to lean past her to look at the TV or whatever you were doing. It's not subtle. You will get caught. And she will be even more pissed off at you.

• Responsiveness

If she calls you, it's best to answer the phone. If she leaves you a voicemail, listen to it and respond. Even if you're passing on going to see Chick Flick Whatever with her because you already made plans with the guys, she may not be thrilled about it, but you know what? It'll be worse if you leave her hanging and she misses the movie because she was waiting to see if you would call her back. Honestly, it kind of hurts our feelings if we try to get ahold of you, and you don't respond until two or three days later because of Half-Assed Excuse Number Nine. That leads me to the final point I'm going to make.

• Trustworthiness

If your woman calls you and you don't respond for days on end, what is she going to think? She's either going to start to wonder if you don't care about her anymore, or worse-- that you're cheating on her. Even if you're just sick or tired from work, it's better to let her know that so she won't be wondering WHY you aren't talking to her. Once again, women need reassurance. In the words of Billy Joel, "Tell her About It."

So, to summarize all this up, if you're mad at your woman and she's mad at you, look at your own actions and try to piece together why she's upset-- and ask her to do the same for you. Keep the lines of communication open. A lot of relationships end terribly because people won't talk to each other. Honesty is the best policy!

Wow, that was a lot more sincere and a lot less funny than I'd planned on it being. What's wrong with me?! The next post will have more funny. I promise.

It's October!

And that's what I titled my post as because I have NO IDEA where I'm going with this blog post, and that seemed as good a place to start as any. It's kind of like going for a drive except there's a crazy lady behind the wheel and she's taking random turns wherever she likes, and you'd BETTER NOT TOUCH THAT RADIO because "Come on Eileen" is playing and she loves that song and you'd better TOO RAH LOO RAH TOO RAH LOO RYE-AYE with her if you know what's good for you.

That was an extensive analogy. I'm kinda proud of myself for that one.

I need something to write about. I know, I'll compare my goals for the previous month as compared to what actually happened. Something tells me this is gonna be pitiful, but I'm gonna move forward with it anyway.

• Learn Yoga

I don't know why, but I've been wanting to start doing yoga for awhile. So, I resolved to start. This was thwarted, however, as all the YouTube videos that I watched to try and learn yoga-ing from were very... surreal in their language. Everything was so quietly dramatic, and the wind came and swept my chakra into the sea and there it was nestled gently by Mother Nature's soothing lullabies... Or at least, that's what the yoga people professed. Maybe yoga isn't the right thing for me, if I have to take that kind of talk seriously.

Final Rating: FAILURE.

• Diet

Like many women, I struggle with my weight. I figured now was as good a time as any to start dieting. Problem is, I can't find any diets I like. Scratch that. I'd do WeightWatchers, but I'm too poor to pay to go to meetings. So I just changed my diet a bit. I'm taking baby steps at first. First of all, I'm cutting down on (and hopefully cutting out, eventually) soda. I don't think I can give up tea and coffee. But instead of drinking soda now, I'm drinking water by the... well, I'm drinking a lot of water. AND, instead of scrambling or frying eggs, I've learned to poach them. I'm a rock star. But now I have to pee a lot more often cause of all the extra water I'm drinking.

Final Rating: SUCCESS, KIND OF.

• Learning to Poach Eggs

You know how I mentioned I learned to poach eggs? I am AWESOME. Seriously, Chef Gordon Ramsay would be all "THESE BLEEPING EGGS ARE COOKED BEAUTIFULLY." and then I'd be all "Oh thank you Chef Ramsay, you're so hot" and he'd be like "BLEEP OFF YOU DONKEY I'M MARRIED."

Final Rating: Damn Tasty

• Listening to Even More Music

Pretty much anytime I'm not at work now, I'm listening to music. Pandora is helping me to expand my musical horizons even more. Though I still yearn for good old 80s music sometimes. Hell, I'm listening to the Karate Kid soundtrack right now.

Final Rating: You're the best around! NOTHIN'S EVER GONNA KEEP YOU DOWN!

• Blogging More Frequently

I'm not gonna lie. I've failed utterly in this aspect. But with a new month comes a renewed effort. My new goal will be to post at least twice a week.

Final Rating: I'm so disappointed with myself. Please don't hate me.

Since I Have No Shame

-- And since I told my friend Jessica (AKA Erindae) about this story, and she seemed to find it absolutely hilarious, I have decided to share it with the world.

This is a blog post about womanly issues. Periods and vaginas are going to be referenced. If you are disturbed by this, I don't think that you should read any further.

If you're still reading, thanks. I hope you get a good laugh out of this.

I went to Catholic school all my life, including Catholic grade school. Now, at my particular grade school, sex education started at around sixth grade and continued on through seventh and eighth grade as well. Now, take every assumption you have about sex ed and throw it out the window.

At my grade school, sex education involved nothing pertaining to inserting Tab A into Slot B. Sex education didn't even bother to explain to me where a baby exits the body from. Sex education didn't even tell me that my sexual organs were linked to where I peed from.

Sex education should have been titled 'Abstinence Training.' And you know what? That's fine. Children don't need to be having sex. They shouldn't be encouraged to do it. But they SHOULD be taught how it all works.

Because when I got my first period, I didn't know what was happening.

I went to the bathroom at home one night and was terrified to find blood. I thought I was dying. I'm not even kidding. I thought that I was bleeding internally from some kind of horrible mystery wound and that it wouldn't stop, and that I was probably going to die of blood loss in my sleep.

And so, I ran, crying and sobbing pathetically, to my mother, who proceeded to tell me that I was finally growing up and there was nothing wrong with me.

So the terror was averted, but still. That was a scary experience. Had sex education been taught to us properly-- had abstinence training been paired with the science involving male and female reproductive organs-- that whole ordeal could have been averted. I would have been like "Oh cool. I got my first period. Bitchin'. Hey Mom, please buy extra feminine care products next time you go shopping."

So yeah, then I went to high school. And health class was taught by a gym coach who was obligated to teach a course but clearly didn't give a shit about teaching.

Suffice to say, I didn't learn anything from him, either.

Well, except for the fact that once again, there was the very Catholic spin on the class where we were routinely told that we shouldn't have sex before we were married. I was totally on board with that. That was old news to me. I accepted that as part of my life and was at peace with it.

But, I thought. But. What if I got married and I still didn't know how to have sex? What if my potential husband received the same sort of education as I did and he didn't have a damn clue where he was supposed to put his penis and the two of us just kind of went to bed and laid there together and hoped that somehow that would count?

...I never said I understood how things like instinct and so on and so forth work. I was fifteen and terrified for my future. My mother wanted grandchildren and my older sister wasn't going to have them. The deed fell on me. I HAD to have sex if I ever got married.

It wasn't until my senior year of high school that I took Anatomy and Physiology, and finally learned that to make a baby, you have to put a penis in a vagina. I was seventeen before I finally knew anything beyond the fact that sex is for married couples and that part of being a woman means bleeding from where I peed once a month. Or sometimes more or less than that, because mine were really random.

So yeah. I don't know if Catholic schools are still teaching students in this manner, but if they are, they need to rethink that.

And that was the post about sex.

Double Shift

Last night I got a text message from one of my coworkers at the Target Starbucks. It said the following.

Hey so my car has been sitting in the parking lot
at work dead since yesterday so i came to jump it
tonight and there seems to be something more
wrong with it. So now i dont have a ride to work in
the morning and i need to try to find someone
to fix it tomorrow before dance so i really
really need someone to come in for me tomorrow
morning at Starbucks the shift is from 730 to 2.
Please let me know if you can

I've had car trouble myself before, as have most people. So, when I saw this message, I was sympathetic to Coworker's plight, but I was already scheduled to work from 2 PM to 9:30 PM, which was the closing shift for the Starbucks. I sent a message back to Coworker, politely informing her that I was closing and therefore would not be able to take her shift in the morning. I wished her luck.

I stayed up rather late last night playing video games. I went to bed at about 4 AM, thinking that I didn't have to be at work until 2 and thus I would have plenty of time to get an adequate amount of sleep.

I woke up to my cell phone ringing at 8:30 AM. Here is where I made my first mistake. Had I been properly awake, I would have checked the display, realized that it was Target calling, and then let them leave a voicemail so I could see what they wanted before I called them back.

God help my half-asleep self, I answered the phone. I probably sounded like a zombie.

The person calling was my supervisor for the Starbucks and Target Cafe, who was working on the sales floor that morning. Supervisor told me in her high-pitched voice, sounding horrendously close to an emotional breakdown, that Coworker had called in that morning and that she had called EVERYONE else who knew how to work at the Starbucks, and none of them were answering their phones or calling back, and would I come in early and work a double?

Supervisor's sob story made me feel bad. Although I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, I made my second error and agreed to come in as soon as I'd gotten showered and dressed. I was too tired to even think to ask why Supervisor herself didn't just work in the Starbucks, instead of on the sales floor where there were probably plenty of other people scheduled.

I took my shower, got dressed, and ran out the door. I didn't even comb my hair-- I just mashed my hat down over my wet hair and ran for it. Breakfast? Didn't happen.

I made it to work by 9:30. Cafe-Girl was happy to see me because that meant she didn't have to try to work both sides and therefore run around like a moron all day. Supervisor came over and told me how happy she was. By then, I was slightly more aware and I mentioned that if they could get ahold of any of the other employees, I would be more than happy to let someone else come in whenever they wanted and close Starbucks for me so I wouldn't be working a double.

Supervisor just gave me a simpering smile and said that none of the other girls were answering their phones, and that they'd already tried calling everyone they could. Supervisor then walked away.

The first few hours of my shift were agonizingly slow. Time moved at a crawl and then seemed to stop altogether. I was tired and hungry. Cafe-Girl went to her break and while she was gone, another girl who works at the Starbucks came to Target to do some shopping. She saw me, waved, and we started talking.

I asked her if she wanted to close. She wasn't able to, but when I explained why I asked, she looked confused. "Nobody called me." she said.

Well, that was great. Had they called anyone? Probably not.

My shift continued. All of my customers were absolute assholes. People yelled at me, cussed at me, and generally treated me as if I wouldn't have been good enough to handle their shit. I tried my hardest to remain positive and polite throughout. Cafe-Girl's replacement came in at 3:30. Noone came to replace me.

The day grew steadily worse the later it got. Nighttime-Cafe-Girl went home. An older man yelled at me because his coffee was 'too thick.' Apparently it had the consistency of licorice, which was bullshit because I poured him another cup from the exact same pot and he said that it was 'tolerable.'

One of my other coworkers came in to do some shopping, and said hello. Guess what? Noone had called HER, either. Which means that Supervisor lied to me. You don't insist that you called -everyone- but just accidentally forget two people who aren't scheduled that day.

So now I'm exhausted, cranky, hungry, and generally not-thrilled. I'm too tired to even draw a picture.

Sorry.

Morning.

Okay, legitimate question time.

Why are some people so obsessed with waking up early?

I know what you're thinking-- "Laura, waking up early is important! You have to seize the day! Experience a full, solid day! If you sleep late, you lose so much time in the day!"

I emphatically call bullshit.

Now, my typical schedule involves waking up at around 11 AM, staying up until 2 or 3 AM, and then going to sleep. This schedule works fantastically for me, as I have no desire to wake up so early the sun has not yet risen and no businesses are open.

I have been feeling a bit under the weather (probably due to allergies) so I went to bed at around midnight. God help me, I woke up at 4 AM.

I looked outside.

It was like I had woken up in some bizarre, alien world, a parallel universe to my own. I was decidedly out of my comfort zone.

This is what I saw when I looked outside. Perfectly normal and acceptable, right? Wrong.

This is what my sleep-addled and confused brain interpreted the world outside as being. The fog concealed zombies, bleeding houses, and Lovecraftian tentacle monsters. Suddenly, the idea of being outside at 4 AM seemed like a terrible idea. Why the Hell would people risk their lives against the horrors that lurked in the morning fog just for the sake of going to a bakery or making a three-hour commute to work?

Now, another argument is that your day is 'longer' if you wake up early. Let's say you wake up at 6 AM and go to bed at 10 PM. That's sixteen hours of being awake and a healthy eight hours of sleep.

Now, what if I wake up at 11 AM and go to sleep at 3 AM? Guess what? That's also sixteen hours. My day lasts just as long as yours does, chump. It's not MY fault if you wake up at 11 AM and go to bed at 10 PM like you usually would.

"But Laura, what about daylight hours!? You can't argue with that."

Screw daylight. It's obnoxiously-bright and hot and completely overrated. Nighttime is infinitely better than daytime. And you know what? If you follow my sleep schedule, you can conduct any vital business just as easily (or even more easily) than you could if you woke up at 6 AM.

Let's invent a busy day where I'm off work, but have lots of errands to run and so on.

11:00 AM- Wakeup. Sun is out so you know it's daytime. None of this 'The sun isn't up, is it really morning?' crap. Take your time to get showered, dressed, and ready for the day! You've already missed the morning commute traffic, but if you leave the house at noon you'll end up hitting lunchtime traffic. Enjoy a leisurely meal. It's not too late to eat breakfast if you're craving pancakes, but you can just as easily have lunch too.

1:00 PM- Go to the bank. Guess what? All the banks I've seen don't stop processing same-day transactions until 2! Pat yourself on the back. You've skipped lunchtime traffic and you still made it to the bank with plenty of time to spare!

1:45 PM- Put gas in your car. You're making great time-- all the business-people are still at work! No lines at the gas pump for you!

2:00 PM- Let's say you need to buy some new clothes. Now is the perfect time to head to the mall, or wherever else you like to buy your apparel. School is still going, so you don't have to worry about the mall being infested with bratty teenagers. Take your time here! The schoolbuses will be rolling out to collect said bratty teenagers soon. However, even if the kids get off school at 2:45, it'll take them until at least 3 to get home. And even if they leave for the mall the second they get home, they'll still be caught in the after-school rush of traffic! So as long as you leave the mall or shopping center by 3:30, you won't have to deal with annoying teens.

3:30 PM-Take your purchases home. You'll hit a little traffic in this time-frame, but it shouldn't be anything too bad, especially compared to all the crap you missed.

4:30 PM- You know how you've been putting off calling your parents/other relative/friend? Do that now. Seriously, pick up the phone and talk with them, see how things are going.

5:00 PM-I dunno about you, but I'm getting hungry. Let's have lunch now.

6:00 PM- Oh, was that show you wanted to watch on? Well, alright. Watch some TV, play around on the computer, read my blog, whatever. You know. Have a couple hours of 'you time.'

8:00 PM- Look at the clock. You could totally go do your grocery shopping right now, but there's no harm in putting it off til later. As long as you aren't afraid of the crazy nighttime people at Wal-Mart, doing your grocery shopping later is a great idea. The shoppers there will be a little bit weird, sure, but you know what? There also won't be eight hundred thousand of them crowding down the aisles. For someone who is people-phobic like I am, this is a godsend. Decide to put off your shopping til a little later.

10:00 PM- Aaah, that's much better. Let's go to the store now. Enjoy not having to drive back and forth through the parking lot over and over and over again, looking for a space! Pat yourself on the back for having found an awesome parking spot. Do your grocery shopping in peace and solitude, without a crowd of people being in your personal bubble.

11:30 PM- Head home and put your groceries away. Once again, no traffic! Although, by now your tummy will be telling you it's dinner time. You can either eat at home, or stop at Taco Bell, McDonalds, Burger King, Arby's, or any other restaurant that's open late.

The rest of the night til you go to bed at 3 AM is yours to do with as you please. As you can see, my schedule is fantastic in that you can still get everything you need to get done, done, without having to deal with crowds of people. You also temper your errands and chores with more enjoyable activities. It's kind of like a rewards program.

Clearly, waking up early in the morning is absolutely unnecessary.

Hijinks on the River

So today my former roommate and I went to lunch and ran around like idiots after I got done with some errands. Maybe it was just the fact that I indulged in some hot sake, (which was SO DELISHUS), or maybe it was the fantastic weather, but we ended up at the Mississippi River and the accompanying flood wall. Now, my town isn't really known for anything interesting, so whoever is in charge decided that muraling the flood wall and selling the damned things as a tourist attraction point was a great idea.

It is not.

Now, my friend and I are wandering around by the flood wall, and we're struck by an idea.

That's my friend, 'climbing' the ladder and flipping off the mural-people.

Which led to this.You know I've been single for too long when I'm groping at the shapely buttocks of a paint-man.

Here's my favourite picture of my friend--


--I love this because he's all "DON'T WORRY GUY! I'LL STOP THIS CANNONBALL AND SAVE YOU!" And the guy is all "OHSHIIIIIIIIIIT CANNONBALL."

So yeah. That was my exciting afternoon.


So this is me now, drinkin' Smirnoffs and listening to Lady Gaga on YouTube. I will leave you with one thought, fair readers, and a shout out to my awesome World of Warcraft guild, the Defenders of Greyskull.

I HAVE THE POWERRRR!

For Lack of Anything Better to Blog About...

I asked my World of Warcraft guild what I should blog about. The suggestions were interesting, to say the least.

"Spiders!"

"Reasons why you don't wanna be hit in the face!"
"Brezka's (one of my guildmates) boobs!"
I hate spiders and I really don't wanna discuss boobs.

So I'm gonna talk about why I don't want to be hit in the face.

Reason Number One

Being hit in the face hurts.

Clearly, as you can see through this illustration of me desperately trying to fend off a cinderblock flung at me by an unseen hand, I do not wish to be hit in the face. I have even gone so far as to turn my head the other way, risking delicate brain matter so as to not take the hit to the face.

Reason Number Two

Facial Blemishes

This wouldn't be attractive. Clearly.

Reason Number Three

...I dunno. This topic is kind of obvious, isn't it? I feel like I've already exhausted it.

PS.

Mulgrum's Man-Boobs.

More OkCupid Madness

So some of you might remember the old post I made about some of the messages I receive on OkCupid, and how some of them sincerely make me wish I was more socially-adept and therefore able to meet people in real life.

So once again, here is another list that makes me want to rip out my eyelashes. These are in no particular order of offensiveness, because it's hard to rank that sort of thing.

• Pointless messages that make me angry.

hey wats up?

You're illiterate, lazy, and you can't even think of a good way to approach someone?

• Compliments that are nice, but aren't exactly helpful.

I like your hair.

Me too, guy. I think my hair is pretty fierce.

• Obsessively-pushy people who message me every single time I log on.

How are you? What are you up to tonight? What is there to do here in ?

Next Day...

hi how are you?

Later...

hi how are you?

Two Days After That...

you're very pretty, id like to get to know you.

Slow down there. Slow down. You're doing too much. And frankly, you're creeping me out with those stalker tendencies.

• Obsessive Messaging Coming from the 50+ Bracket.

your eyes are fantastic. is there any hair color u cant pull off? lol

Well, that's... nice. I mean, I appreciate the compliment, but I stated in my profile my ideal dating criteria. I left the range of men I'm interested in dating in a nice, open 20-30 bracket. 50 is kind of a stretch that I'm not okay with making. But sometimes, they aren't to be deterred.

gamer ? check. bathes daily? double check. gentleman? check. looking for a mature woman? check. romantic? check. looking for a woman with a figure? check. and u listen to nightwish and watch akira? you already sound fantastic!!!! only one problem...................im like a hundred miles from ya..............too far? well whether it is or isnt u should message me back if you find this message hilarious or entertaining. well until then i bid u goodnight madam.

Yes, but I'm not looking for someone old enough to be my father, sir. And no offense, but what is a 54-year-old doing watching Akira and listening to Nightwish? And why the HELL can't you type?

Wat is your favorite gaming series? if u have a favorite?

Sir, I've stopped responding to your messages for a reason.

• Remember the 'sherif from egypt' from my last post about OkCupid?

u r amazing really,,i will be happy if know u,,

hope that u have time to talk to me... first thing u look soo attractive and beauty really

sure alot of men send to u as u look attractive.. but the important u will reply to whom???

thats the matter,,,,,,

all i can say that iam really different than most men here,,, u cant trust on that sure,, by one way ,, that we talk for few minutes to feel and see by urself

trust on my words,, i like doing more than words ,,soo lets take chance to start,, also i forget u that i like tall woman ,,


about me,, iam dr islam,, specialized in opthalmolgy,, singel... honest caring man.. love travelling,, going out,, love fun and special things

by the way i will be in missouri for work so i think its good chance for

I swear that's either the same guy, or they're cousins, or they went to the same Creeper-Training School. I think the broken English is part of what scares me the most, and I'm not sure why.

"but the important u will reply to whom???"

Not you, sir. Not you. That's for sure.

Laura's Fantastic Friday. That was Sarcasm.

So my friend invited me to lunch today, along with two of his other friends. I was quite alright with this arrangement, because I like hanging out with my friend, and I was also very hungry. So the place agreed upon by the other three parties was the Mongolian Grill. It's kind of a... dirty-looking, not-great establishment, and the service is horrible (you never get refills on your drinks, and the waitresses are downright hostile), but that was where the three of them decided to go, so that was where I went.

Immediately upon entering the restaurant, I knew that this was a horrible mistake.

The place was packed.
Fun fact about Laura? I'm people-phobic. I hate people. I hate crowds. I have panic attacks in crowds. I've almost run out of the grocery store screaming just to get away from the crushing waves of people inside.

The four of us were escorted to a table, which I noticed was completely surrounded by other tables full of people. My friend and the other woman in the group started chatting about things I knew nothing about, as I'd never met this lady before, and the other guy began eating.

I was left alone with my thoughts.

And as I sat there thinking, trying to focus on my plate of lukewarm, partially-edible buffet food, I became increasingly aware of the fact that I was surrounded. Completely. There were people all around me. And they were all loud. Talking, laughing, chewing, smacking their gums.

I started to freak out. I thought about rushing out into the aisle and making another trip around the buffet to pretend I actually wanted to eat more, but there were people swarming it like flies to a carcass. I thought, maybe I could get away by heading to a bathroom, or outside-- but there were people there too.
And here's where I really panicked. I grew increasingly anxious. I was torn hopelessly between running out of the restaurant in tears, embarrassing myself, and trying to tough out the longest lunch of my life.

I tried to tough it out. And I know that at that point, I was just being neurotic, but this is how I felt in those moments.
Look, I know it's terribly drawn, but trust me, it was a lot more alarming in my head. Have you seen the music video for Soundgarden's 'Black Hole Sun?' You know, where all the people are terrifying and facially-distorted and grinning like lunatics?

That's the closest comparison I can make.

From there, all I remember is a vague blur that might have been my lunch companions talking, and me staring dully at my half-empty bowl of cold wonton soup, praying that it would all be over soon.

I remember half-slumping against a wall while we paid the bill. I remember emerging into the sun outside and gulping down air like I'd been drowning or something.

Dear Blog. My Friday has sucked so far.

Love, Laura.

From Heartbreak to Awesome-itude

My older sister broke her wrist this past week and had to have surgery to fix it, including the addition of a metal plate to her arm. I was concerned, naturally, but then I realized something today. Something that makes my blood boil.

My sister is now closer to being a robot than I am.
You might be thinking to yourself, "Laura, shut up about being a robot already. You've posted about it enough already. Write about something else."
You're probably right.

So yeah. Now that I got my jealousy out of the way, I'm gonna put the whole robot thing on the shelf. It may come back one day, but for now I will blog about other things.
My buddy got me to try this MMO called Aion. I've always stuck by World of Warcraft. I tried City of Heroes-- controls sucked. I tried Dungeons and Dragons online-- got too bored of it, and the art wasn't very good. So I was expecting to be mildly amused by this 'Aion' and then express that I preferred World of Warcraft.

This was me within the first three minutes of gameplay.


Reduced to a trembling, mangledy-handed, weeping, drooling, poorly-drawn MS Paint person.

Okay not really. But seriously, that game is BEAUTIFUL.


Yes. That's a screenshot. Not of my character though. All of a sudden, World of Warcraft started to look like poorly-drawn MS Paint people in my mind too. So I was blithely questing with my friend and I was having a blast, and before I knew it, we were level nine! So a couple quests later, and all of a sudden MY CHARACTER WAS SPROUTING WINGS AND I WAS FLYING.

HOLY CRAP YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW COOL THAT WAS.

And another thing that I like? Even the low-level armor and weapons look somewhat nice and interesting. It's not like World of Warcraft where you look like a complete and total scrub til at least level 70. Oh, and lets not forget the fact that the character customization is awesoooome.

So now I'm pretty much in love with Aion.

But in other news, I need sleep. So yeah. Bye, blog.

Well, I'm Not a Robot, But...

... On the positive side, since I started taking my blood pressure medicine about a week ago, I haven't had a migraine. Since I'd been getting them once or twice a week lately, this is a welcome change. I would say that I've changed my eating habits, but honestly, I wasn't ingesting that much salt or cholesterol to start with. My father's had blood pressure problems (and had to have bypass surgery awhile back), so I'm thinking I definitely had a genetic predisposition toward the issue. So I can't really help that.

I think what I probably need to work on the most is not stressing. I stress a lot. I stress about money, I stress about work, I stress about anything and everything. I stress about not stressing. And you can always tell when I'm excessively stressed because all the tension goes to my neck and my traps. I totally punked out on typing the plural of trapezius because I don't know if the plural form is trapezii, or trapeziuses. Either way it sounds kind of ridiculous. But when I get stressed and I get tense, my muscles feel like brick walls.

At any rate, I stress a lot. It's probably not great for me. And I'm trying to 'not stress' as much, but how do you DO that? I mean, seriously. Trying not to stress has only made me stress more because that's one more thing I'm worried about.

Anyway, I'm done talking about all that. Onward, to the more pressing issue. I AM STILL DECIDEDLY HUMAN.

This needs to change. Remember last post how I was all "I need to be a robot, guys!" and I posted a crappy MS Paint doodle of myself as a robot and it was totally awesome? That dream has not yet died.

I am accepting donations of scrap metal, schematics, pocket lint (but not belly button lint), 80s music, and decals. Because a robot should probably have decals. Right? Well whatever.

I need to be a Robot. Now.

So after a brief medical scare, it turns out I had pneumonia again. I'm getting really sick and tired of pneumonia, guys. I've had it more times than I can accurately count. And so, I have decided to pneumonia-proof my body for the future. Now, this is just a basic idea for possible improvements but I'm thinking that I could really get somewhere with this.


Clearly, this will make me pneumonia-proof and possibly more durable to other unfortunate occurrences, like falling, car wrecks, bombs, and other stuff. BUT WHY STOP THERE!?


Clearly, I need to be a robot. RIGHT NOW. That is almost too much awesome for me to even think about. I'll take any donations to the 'Help Laura Fulfill Her Dream' project. I'll even give back to the community by fighting crime and stuff. I MEAN FOR GOD'S SAKE I'D HAVE A MEGAMAN-STYLE BLASTER ARM AND A BEAM SABER.

I have to be a robot. This has become my quest in life. I'll be disease-proof, totally badass, and OMEGA MACK-DADDY AWESOME.

I'm Sorry, Roommate

Roommate, remember yesterday morning when I woke up and you were sleeping in the bathtub and I was all mad because I needed to pee?

I'm sorry. I'm willing to forgive you and say that I'm sorry I got mad about it. Because last night, you were my hero.
I staggered in from work and went straight to bed, knowing you'd be home minutes after me. My mutant death suffering anguish disease had apparently evolved into something even more sinister. I had a migraine on top of everything else and it felt like my eye was going to explode. So I laid in bed with a pillow mashed over my eyes. I heard you and your friend come upstairs. Your friend said goodbye and left, and you came knocking on my door, asking me if I was alright. When I explained in a senseless mumble that I was dying, you sprang heroically into action, asking if I'd taken any medicine, if I needed to go to the hospital, etc etc.

When I mumbled something about not being able to take any medicine because we had nothing to drink, you volunteered to walk to the little gas station a block away and get me a soda. I expressed my gratitude, and you got ready to leave.
As you were preparing for your journey, for some reason I got up to putter aimlessly around the kitchen. You told me to go back to bed. I did so. Except that when I collapsed back onto my bed, I cracked the back of my head against the wall and it hurt a lot and I cursed some.

You told me not to move until you got back, and departed.

Time seemed to stop moving. I vaguely remember laying in bed, crying pathetically. I might have been drooling on myself a little bit; I can't really remember. It hurt to be alive. I pondered how I'd ever gotten through work, and I wondered if you, Roommate, would call Target for me and tell them I wouldn't be coming to work in case I died in my sleep.
At any rate, you returned with a can of Pepsi in hand. You told me to take my medicine, and then out of respect for my privacy or just plain not wanting to have to see me looking like a zombie, left my room. I took about six Excedrin, drank some Pepsi, and passed out.

In hindsight, I maybe shouldn't have taken so much. But I had to because otherwise I never would have fallen asleep. I still think I'm dying and I have to go to work and I'm dreading it because I feel so terrible, but I'm gonna try and make it.

At any rate, Roommate, thank you for going to get me a soda last night. You're awesome.

PS.
This is probably what I looked like last night.
Clearly, my finest hour.

Illness, Day... Four, I think?

So I woke up today and the back of my head hurt. Not like a headache, but like... where my spine meets my skull hurts. This may sound ridiculous or it may just sound like I slept wrong, but it's true. Also, I hate it when my roommate decides it'd be a good idea to go lay in the bath for well over an hour RIGHT when I'm waking up. Like most people when they first wake up, my first stop is the bathroom.

It was the need to urinate that actually woke me up. I crawled out of bed, feeling sick and very sorry for myself, and toddled my way over to the bathroom. I reached for the knob and stopped. The light was on-- I could see it under the door. Well, maybe he would be out in a minute. I glanced hopefully into his room. Maybe he'd just forgotten to turn out the light. No such luck.

So I waited. And waited. My roommate never emerged. No sound at all issued from the bathroom. No running water, no toilet flushing, no audible breathing-- nothing.

I knocked on the door. "Roommate?" I called. Well, I used his name but we're protecting the 'innocent' here.

No response. But then, I finally caught it-- a snore.

That bastard had drawn himself a bath and fallen asleep in the damned tub.

I was furious. I knocked on the door, louder. No response. I stayed that way for another minute. No response except for more snoring.

Finally I gave up and stormed off to bed again, deciding that I would just go back to sleep and try later. When I woke up exactly half an hour later, he was out and happily playing on his damn computer. I shot him a glare and stormed into the bathroom.

And now that I've satisfied the need to urinate, I realize how crappy I feel. In addition to my weird neck/head pain, I'm still experiencing the symptoms from yesterday, and my throat really hurts too. My right tonsil is swollen-- but only the right one. Lefty's normal. What the hell is wrong with me?

Mutant Suffering Anguish Death Disease, Type 4.

It's Time to Play...

GUESS THE ILLNESS! Wooooo!

For the past few days, I've been steadily feeling more and more sick again. I took my temperature earlier and according to the thermometer, I have a temperature of 101. I can't imagine that's good. And I can't even joke about being... HOT BLOODED! Because I don't have a fever of a hundred and three.

So my symptoms are...

Headaches
Nausea
Fever
Stiffness/Soreness
Skin Pain. No, seriously, my SKIN hurts.
Crankiness (Probably due to other symptoms)

So I've been sleeping a lot and I'm eating Tylenol like candies trying to keep my fever down, but I'm wondering what is wrong with me. Now, I don't have the money to go see a doctor, so I'm going to just self-diagnose this as Recurring Mutant Death and Misery Disease. More than just intimidating-- it's medically mysterious.