Finals Week!

Sorry, people! It's finals week and I'm studying my butt off this weekend.

I would totally post something more interesting or fun or whatever, but that will have to wait until next weekend. Seriously, I will try to write more after the end of the semester, but I have a TON of stuff to do. My computer got a virus this past Friday, and I had to come home to Detroit to have my brother fix it, and I keep getting distracted from my studying even though my hardest final is on Monday.

To anyone out there who has finals, good luck! If you've already had them and you're on break, eat shit and die, you lucky bastard. I'm over here fighting an ulcer and hair loss while you get to sit back, watch Frasier, and eat Funyuns whenever you damn well please, so I kind of hate you.

I will hopefully write when I'm on break next week! See you then!

The Real First Thanksgiving... But Not Really

First of all, before you read this, I want to warn you that it is possibly the most blasphemous thing ever written. I don't mean to offend you if you:

1) are American
2) are Southern
3) are Christian
4) don't understand sarcasm

Besides, I'm an Atheist and it technically doesn't matter to me.

Second, no, I know the original Thanksgiving story. I'm not an idiot.

Anyway, Thanksgiving is a beautiful holiday. Millions of turkeys are slaughtered and eaten in memory of what happened the last Thursday in November so long ago. Many people believe something about pilgrims and Indians or whatever, but guess what? They're wrong! This is my version of the story of the first Thanksgiving:

One day, Jesus was walking down the road in a city called Buttaiznise (which is now known as Dallas, TX). Suddenly, the ground shook like an earthquake, and Jesus threw himself to the ground to avoid a disastrous fall that would result in him cracking his skull open on a rock. He landed face-up and immediately saw a huge boulder above him, about to crush him. He ninja-rolled and barely avoided being squished. He stood up and brushed the dust from his toga (yes, he wore a toga!) angrily. Jesus looked around and saw a gigantic, 20-foot tall turkey stampeding through town! Jesus decided to call it Imastufyew as he unsheathed his Jesus-sword and sprinted toward it. He leaped in the air with his super-Jesus power legs and sliced that bird's head and right wing off. As Jesus wiped his brow and victory screeched, "TAKE THAT, ASSCLOWN!" the turkey's head flew off the ground and reattached itself to the dead bird's neck, and the wing grew back on the turkey's body. When it stood back up, it let loose a mighty gobble that shook the world as it trampled all of the peasants' crops and homes.

This time, Jesus was pissed. He called out to the panicking peasants, "Hey! Chill, dudes! We need to, like, do something about this! Half of you start a fire, and the other half gather weapons. I have an idea!" The peasants gathered wood from their destroyed homes and built a huge fire. The other ones gathered a bunch of 2 by 4's with rusty nails sticking out of them. Together, they bludgeoned Imastufyew to death and cut him up into a bunch of smaller pieces. As they cooked him and ate him, they noticed that the meat grew back with every piece that was taken. After gorging themselves on the never-ending turkey, the men wanted something sweet for dessert. Jesus thought for a moment, and then shook his booty, restoring all of the destroyed crops, and turning them into various flavors of pie with his Jesus-butt-magic. The American peasants were able to eat as much turkey as they wanted whenever they wanted, and they took advantage of the opportunity. Eventually, the Tryptophan made them all tired and lazy, and all of the food made them fat, creating the American obesity crisis.

The End

SORRY SORRY SORRY!!!! DON'T CRUCIFY AND BEHEAD ME!

HI! Sorry, I'm being so damn sporadic with these posts, but I have stuff to do. As finals week approaches, writing here gets less and less important. I also am at home in Detroit right now, and I left my tablet in my dorm, so I can't draw any pretty pictures.... This post is to just apologize for not keeping up and to say Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! I hope you gained at least 2 pants sizes like I think I did. I don't think I ever want to see salad again. Anyway, this weekend is insanely busy for me because I have a shit-ton of homework to do that I haven't started and I keep getting distracted by people and the internet, so I will post something next weekend.

I am going to post a beautiful Thanksgiving story next weekend that will be full of historically inaccurate and highly blasphemous drawings of Jesus battling a gigantic turkey.

Again, I'm sorry about not updating regularly. Not that anyone actually reads this.... I feel schizophrenic when I blog. It feels like I'm talking to myself just a little bit. Whatever.

Peace out and have a great weekend! Enjoy your Thanksgiving leftovers! And to anyone who is not from the U.S. who may or may not read this... I hope your Thursday was fun!

Adventures in Weird Sleep Habits

I have always had weird sleep patterns. I recently had a theory that caffeine makes it impossible for me to sleep, but then I remembered that I've always done weird stuff in my sleep.

It is important to know that when I was a little kid, I was obsessed with the movie, The Wizard of Oz. I wanted to be Dorothy so badly! I made my parents go out and get me the blue and white dress, the white tights, and most importantly, the magical ruby slippers. I was that one weird child who wore her Halloween costume any day of the year. When I say that, I mean that I wore my Dorothy outfit every day. And every night. I used to sleep wearing all of this, ruby slippers included. The ruby slippers eventually got too tight, but I still wore them.

During this time period, I also put off going to bed at all cost. I knew that my parents would yell at me if I didn't get to sleep, so I tried to quietly sneak to the bathroom for a drink of water. However, every room in our house has hardwood flooring that creaked, and I wore my Dorothy shoes that clicked when I walked, so my parents could hear me from downstairs. I would tip-toe past the staircase and my dad's booming voice would startle me, yelling, "KATE! IF I HEAR YOU ONE MORE TIME, I'M COMING UP THERE!" I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but it terrified me every time. I would clip-clop back to my room and try to go to sleep, which was a terrible effort. I slept with the light on because I was afraid of monsters, mostly witches, hiding behind stuff and in the closet. I kept a water bottle by my side at all times because I knew that if you dump water on a witch, she will melt. (I believed everything I was told. I'm not that smart.) For some odd reason, I hated my bed. It is the most comfortable bed in the world. The mattress is not to hard, not too soft, and I have 7 pillows and about a million stuffed animals. Because I hated my bed, I slept on the floor, like the freak of nature that I am.

Also, whenever my dad was away on business trips, I would sleep in my mom's bed with her. She soon discovered the hard way that I am a very violent sleeper. Apparently, I punch in my sleep. Hard. Hard enough to bruise. (I'm not sure if I still do that.) I also thrash around like a suffocating fish. (I definitely still do that.)

So my weird sleeping started out with me sleeping in my Dorothy dress and tight ruby slippers on the hardwood floor with the light on. Weird? I think so.

My sleeping patterns have gotten weirder with age. When I was 4 years old, I may have done some weird things, but now that I am almost 19, I think there might be something seriously wrong with me.

If my room is not completely pitch black, I can't sleep. If there is any noise besides my fan, I can't sleep. These are understandable. However, things get more and more strange.

Most people sleep on their side, or on their back or stomach with their legs straight or maybe bent at a normal person angle. I don't because I'm a fucking weirdo. See, I have always been abnormally flexible. When I was 12 years old, my doctor could grab my shoulders and touch them together in front of me. I went to physical therapy for a long time for loose joints in my (get ready for the list!): ankles, knees, hips, shoulders, back, and elbows. Now, I can't touch my shoulders together in front of me, but I still can behind my back. Try touching your elbows together behind your back. You probably can't. Don't even try touching your shoulders together. You'll probably pull a muscle or hurt yourself. I also recently discovered that I can stand up and bend all the way backwards with my feet flat on the ground and touch the top of my head to the floor. Don't try that either. You might die. This is probably why I was really good at gymnastics, and I should probably take legitimate yoga classes.

Because of my strange flexibility, I sleep in strange positions. Here are drawings of my favorite ones:

Knee-face: My arms are sprawled out on either side of me while I sleep on one shoulder. My (usually) top leg stays straight down, and my bottom leg goes up with my knee really close to or touching my nose. Most people would pull a hamstring trying this, but there's something wrong with me, so I can do this very comfortably.

Extreme Fetal: It's like your average fetal position, but my head is between my knees on the pillow. This one is not as comfortable as the previous one because it causes my bottom arm to fall asleep and it looks rather strange at sleepovers and such. Now that I have a roommate, I don't sleep like this ever. Most people can't really do this without removing a rib or two.

Broken Back: This is surprisingly comfortable and feels great on my back. You stretch backwards until your feet are almost touching the back of your head. I personally like my arms straight out or back, but it is also comfortable to go one back and one straight out. Unfortunately, it may cause your hair to smell like feet in the morning because you're playing with you hair with your feet all night, but if you take morning showers, it's not really a problem.

Face-Down Pretzel: I think it is one of the most comfortable sleep positions ever. I'd prefer it to any other one besides knee-face. You lie on your stomach with your head sideways on the pillow and cross your legs like you are sitting Indian-style. Your knees and ankles should be flat on the mattress. Be careful not to pull your groin though. It seems like it would be really easy to do so in this sleep position. In fact, don't even try this. I think it might really hurt someone.

You don't have to tell me that I'm a total freak. I already know it. As I said before, do not try any of these things or you will probably seriously hurt yourself. I figured these sleeping things out by waking up in these positions after falling asleep like a normal person and thrashing around like a dying fish until I am comfortable.

Now that you people all know that I sleep like my bones were removed, I think it's time for an extremely awkward nap.

That One Day I Discovered That I am Actually Dead

Every so often, people approach me and ask me if I am okay and if I need a drink of water or something to eat. These people tend to be people who rarely see me, concerned relatives, people I could sue if I passed out at that particular location, strangers, genuinely concerned friends, my teachers and professors, or medical professionals. This is because I am extremely pale. Not just a little bit pale. I look like an albino. The shade of foundation I would use would be called "Drowning Victim White." I have determined that I am approximately the same color as White-Out from a lack of sleep, lack of sunlight (I burn too easily to be out in the sun too long), the fact that I am a science major, and the idea that I might be dead.

I am not sure of my cause of death, but I would hope it would be something interesting such as sky-diving accident, chemistry lab gone wrong, caffeine overdose, or some sort of hallucination causing me to think I can fly and then falling out of a twelve-story window. However, none of these things have actually happened to me (yet), but I still think I might be dead. This is why:

Last year, in my AP Biology class, we were doing a lab to compare our blood pressure at rest and after exercising. I found my lab partner's blood pressures for her data, and she was trying to find mine. We spent the rest of the class period trying to find my blood pressure without luck. I could not stay after school to figure mine out, so I asked my teacher if he could help me find mine after class, which he agreed to do.

Keep in mind that finding someone's blood pressure does not take any skill. A four-year-old could probably do it if instructed correctly and he or she did not have A.D.D.

I sat down on the lab table and rolled up my sleeve. My teacher put the cuff on my arm, asking if I had initially put it on the right way, which I had. He tightened it and put the stethoscope to the crook of my elbow and pumped up the sphygmomanometer. It gripped my arm painfully tightly and I sat impatiently awaiting him to call me stupid and give me my blood pressure reading. However, as the cuff loosened and my teacher looked at the meter, a look of horror struck his face. He looked from the meter to me and back a few times in a disbelieving way. The cuff completely loosened and I started to undo the Velcro. "Wait! Stop!" he ordered, "I need to redo that one more time!" His face showed concern as he pumped it up again and let the air slowly come out. When the cuff loosened again, he took it off for me and laughed nervously, telling me that he could not find my blood pressure. The meter just kept dropping and he could not hear the blood in my arm at any point during the test.

I asked him if I am actually undead and if I still had to write up the lab. He told me to go to my next class, now. I guess that was a yes on both questions.

My dad has a blood pressure machine, so I decided to collect data at home after school. It was an electronic one that I knew worked for sure, and it did not have the human error aspect. It was impossible to mess it up. I strapped the cuff to my arm, following the diagram precisely. I held my arm in the correct position. I hit the on button and watched the numbers increase as the cuff tightened and decrease as it loosened. I watched the numbers quickly drop from 160 to 120 to 90 to 60 to 30 to...

Zero. The machine said zero. I couldn't believe my eyes. I retested it several times, with the same result FIVE TIMES IN A ROW. With that machine, I did not get any answer that was not zero.

Conveniently, I had a doctor's appointment later that day to get vaccines before going off to college. As the nurse was asking me questions, it occurred to me that she might be the best person to take my blood pressure and help me gather data for my lab.

Me: "Umm... Can you do me a favor? For my AP Biology class we were supposed to take our blood pressure and record results, comparing our cardiac fitness. My teacher, lab partner, and I were all unable to find my blood pressure, even with an electronic sphygmomanometer. Can you please help me out by taking my blood pressure? I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Her: "Uh, sure. Are you sure you were doing it right?"

Me: "I'm not a moron. I know how to take blood pressure."

With that, I rolled up my sleeve, and she attached the cuff. Keep in mind I am horrified of needles, and I was at the doctor's office for shots. My blood pressure should have been through the roof.

She watched the needle move down the numbers. As they got smaller and smaller, her eyes got wider and wider. The needle hit zero.

That was a direct quote. I am not kidding.

She insisted on redoing the test. In the meantime, I was starting to actually freak out from all of the signs pointing to the fact that I am probably a vampire or zombie or whatever. After a few tries, she ended up getting a result. It turns out I had (and possibly still have) the blood pressure of a healthy kindergartener. At least we found a number.

The next day, when I told my AP Biology teacher this fact, he looked at me like I am completely insane, shook his head, and kind of walked away, laughing at me.

That is how I found out that when I am calm, I have the blood pressure of a dead body, and when I am having an anxiety attack, I have the blood pressure of a five-year-old.

My Totally Awesome/Insane Weekend and a Happy Halloween to You!

I would like to start off this post with a Happy Halloween! Halloween is that night (or in college, 4 nights!) of the year that you can dress up like a total freak and it will be socially acceptable. Or in college, you can dress and act like a hooker and you won't be frowned upon.

This year for Halloween, I had a couple of friends stay for the weekend. I dressed up on Saturday night and I improvised on Friday night, and I have a different costume for Monday during my classes.

On Friday night when my friends arrived to my dorm, we decided that walking around my building was kind of boring, so we decided to wander campus for a while. Unfortunately, none of us were wearing costumes because it was approximately -1000000000 degrees outside. We all got bundled up in our pea coats (because we're really cool) and began our adventure in the dark. We decided that we were cool enough to go to a party (even though we don't drink or anything), so we started walking toward apartments where parties would probably take place. It was definitely interesting. And we discovered that when you aren't wearing a costume on Halloween, you will be heckled like you're a fat person on The Biggest Loser and the hecklers are Bob and Jillian.

"IF YOU DON'T RUN FASTER YOU WILL FALL INTO A DUNGEON OF HORNY GOATS. NOW RUN FASTER, YOU FAT ASSCLOWN!"

So whenever people yelled stuff at us, we just yelled back at them, "WE'RE STRIPPERS ON STRIKE!" and they would usually shut up and get back to their weed. I can't even describe what it was like looking in on their parties. It didn't even look fun to me. It was just a bunch of drunk people dressed like hookers and Mario who smelled like weed all over each other. It was like some sick fetish orgy that I just can't wrap my innocent mind around.

So that was my first costume... even though it wasn't even a costume. My second one was actually really cool. People have told me in the past that if I dyed my hair orange I would look like Hayley Williams, the lead singer of Paramore. You can probably see where this is going.

 Yep. We're twins. Anyway, I spent my whole day dressed like that and got some really strange looks. I love it.

Tomorrow, I will be dressed like a giant, fluffy chicken. Next week I will post about how I obtained such a majestic costume, but in the meantime, here's a picture of me rolling around on the floor while wearing said chicken suit.

 

Sexaaayy!!!!

Now just imagine that divine creature taking notes and attentively listening to a lecture along with 120 people. Oh yeah.