Sunday, February 20, 2011

I'M YELLING AT YOU. Now I'm not.

TWO Whitney and Ryan conversations!

Conversation One

Whitney:  You’re just jealous because Conan O’Brien is my emergency contact and you’re not!

Ryan: What???

Whitney:  He helps me get out of trees.

Conversation Two

Whitney: ...and then I force them, using threats of violence,
I forgot what I was talking about."

Ryan: Blanket ice skating*.

*Blanket ice skating is when you throw a blanket on the wood floor, and then you slide around on it.  Whitney happens to be a blanket skating prodigy, but everyone no one recognizes her skills.  They also don't recognize Blanket Ice Skating as something at which one can be a prodigy.  Mothers appreciate blanket ice skating and will say, “I guess my annual mopping has been done for me.”  Blanket ice skating makes you a hero.

This week...a deer pooped at me.  I know you’re thinking, “I'm hungry Whitney, that’s not a thing,“ but it is a thing.  You rush to the window, hoping to have one of those moments when you gently lean your head against the window, stare out into the world thinking about candy art, lift your head off of the window, wipe off that little mark that your face left from your face grease, and walk away feeling content, but also knowing you need to wash your face...but NO.

I’ve actually illustrated it for you.  You're welcome.  I've also named each picture something very artsy stupid.

Fear and Contemplation
Confusion on the Other Side
"I'm Gonna Poop"
The Visual

And so ends a very short post about the one topic I swore to myself that I would never write about: poop.

PS  TINA FEY I AM ON TO YOU!  You stole both my discotheque joke AND the one about how anyone who says "this thing we call life" should be beaten.  I know you're reading this blog.  You owe me some money friendship!!!!!


Sunday, February 13, 2011

Whitney Won All the Cars, but More Importantly, If You Lost Your iPhone, it is Probably Because She Stole it

Once again, it's been too long!  Unfortunately, after my intensive German class ended, a 19 credit semester began.

This week, I won all the cars.  After I won all the cars, I also learned that I was the winner of all the tobacco and all of the oil, but those responses will have to be saved for another day.  My point is, I am probably king now because I have all the things.


date: Tue, Feb 8, 2011 at 3:57 AM
subject: Your Email-Id Has Won £950,000.00 In Mercedes Benz On-line Promo.Send:- Name....Address...

Your Email-Id Has Won £950,000.00 In Mercedes Benz On-line Promo.Send

fromWhitney Bradley <>
date: Tue, Feb 8, 2011 at 9:43 AM
subject: Your Email-Id Has Won £950,000.00 In Mercedes Benz On-line Promo.Send:- Name....Address...


from: Mercedes Benz Company <>
date: Tue, Feb 8, 2011 at 11:52 AM
subject: Serial Number MBA/8114/09

Congratulations on emerging as one of our award winners. Mercedez Benz Promo offers awards to Lucky owners of selected emails that came out in our Random Draws.For Claims purpose do contact the Natwest Bank Plc immediately with you information and Serial Number MBA/8114/09 on the contact details below:

fromWhitney Bradley <>
To <
date Wed, Feb 9, 2011 at 7:14 PM
subject I Win All Your Cars

Dear Person,

Another person told me to tell you that I won all your cars.  I was not told what to include in this response, so here is a brief biography.  My name is Whitney, and I am homeless, but we don't call ourselves that.  We prefer "permanent wanderer" or "ex-pro golfer."  I access the internet by stealing iPhones from graphic design majors the community college.  I spend most afternoons down by the river making “science.”  I mix together different measurements of rocks and dirt, ingest them, and note the side effects on the wall under my bridge with one of those rocks that somehow makes chalk even though it looks like just a plain rock.  A lot of people laugh at me now because of my science, but no one will be laughing when I finally create a dirt/rock pill that prevents both pregnancy AND STDs. 

Since the car you are giving me will be my home, I would like to invite you to my house-warming party, but it will actually be very cold.  It would be lovely if you would bring the chips and salsa, but please don’t spill on my new, luxurious leather interior or I might get stabby.  Luckily for you, I am so weak from a diet of only my own failed science that if you do get stabbed, you will likely suffer no more than the equivalent of a paper cut.  But like, thick paper.



Attached is my party flyer.

You guys can all come to my party too.


Monday, February 7, 2011

**UPDATED** Welcome to Preschool. Everything is a Test.

First of all...

The top searches that led to this blog.

If this is an actual thing, someone needs to email me a picture.
**UPDATE**  I did indeed get a picture sent to me, and I don't know whether I'm ecstatic or terrified that there is actually a tampon taser.  "The Pink Stinger."  You should probably go look at it RIGHT NOW.

I shouldn’t be writing right now because I need to start my paper on diversity which might get handed back to me because the title, “A Badly Made Churro is Hardly a Churro at All”  may have racist implications, but in all honesty I was just eating a churro.  But, I love all of you very twisted people, so here’s a post.


I was talking with my dear friend Candace a few months ago, and she told me that “when she grows up” she wants to be a preschool teacher.  Then we started talking about how, to teach grades K-12, teachers have to take a test covering the basic knowledge needed to teach these grades.  PROBLEM.  There is no test for preschool teachers, and honestly I don’t trust most people to have any knowledge of anything.  I just read a Facebook status from a 21 year-old who said that she couldn’t wait until she graduated “collage” after this semester.  Then I kicked the kid sitting next to me in the computer lab because I don’t have an appropriate outlet for my anger.

You sure did, you diverse group of people.  You sure did.
So I made up a test to make sure that our preschool teachers are qualified.  And I’m going to send it to the governor.  Only I don’t know who my governor is, so I’ll probably send it to my mom and she’ll throw it away know exactly what to do!

Are YOU ready to be a preschool teacher!?  Well...we’ll see.

Welcome to the preschool teacher entrance exam!  Please read over the following rules before the test begins at 10.30am, or whenever we get you all to quiet down.

1. As you may have noticed, there was a paper bag sitting in your chair when you walked in today.  This bag is filled with goodies to help you perform well on the test!  Inside, you will find a juice box, some crackers, and a napkin with a note from each of your mothers that says that you will all be loved no matter how well you do on this test.  Your mothers are liars.

2. Please refrain from blowing bubbles in your juice box during the test.  It is okay if you forget once, but if you forget a second time, the test Procter will rip up your exam in front of your face and you will be asked to leave the room.

3. The test should take no more than 15 minutes, because you goof-balls just can’t sit still!

4. If at any point during the exam you feel as if you need nap time, raise your hand, and your sleeping mat will be brought to you.  If you say you’re tired, but you lay on the floor giggling, you will be asked to return to the exam room.

5. After the written exam, you will have a 10 minute “blocks improvisation test.”  You will be graded on your creativity.  Points will be subtracted for every block that you lick.

The Exam

Congratulations!  You’ve completed the exam!  Please head over to the next room for improvisational block time!

I think that test should do the trick.


PS If people are sending you awesome spam mail, PLEASE forward it to me so that I may annoy some people.  I’m bored.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Yeah...Like That Time I Tried to Decorate My House with Gas Station Novelty Items

You guys, I had a five day break because apparently learning the entire German language in fifteen days entitles you to such a break.


Well, maybe that’s not true.  Yesterday morning, I both burped and played video games.  I spent the afternoon concerned for my, you know...unparalleled femininity.  So in the evening I devised a plan to make me feel like a girl again:

Whitney’s Optional Steps to Returning to Femininity Post-Burp
1. Think about painting your toenails.  Dismiss the idea of painting your nails because you don’t own nail polish.

2. Try to make your own nail polish out of water, red food coloring, Elmer’s glue and some glitter.

3. Mix the ingredients in a bowl. 

4. Try to avoid letting the glue dry in the bowl.
5. Fail at avoiding letting the glue dry in the bowl. 

6.Throw the bowl away and learn a hard lesson about how being creative doesn’t mean you have common sense.

7. Tell your boyfriend/husband that you’re so fat that all you’re going to eat for dinner is this apple.

8. Manipulate your boyfriend/husband into telling you that you’re not fat and that you should eat more than that apple.

9. Pour chocolate sauce on your apple.  Eat chocolate apple.

10. Get on Facebook and tell your friends that you’re so fat that all you ate for dinner was an apple with chocolate sauce.

11. Take a nap and dream about a sparkly place where anything is possible.

12. Say “Hugh Jackman” a lot.

BAM. Femininity reinstated!


I heard back from Michelle Marcel.  For those if you who do not want to go back and read that post, all that you really need to know is that I am in cahoots with some criminals.  We banter.  Oh yeah...her name suddenly changed!

From: Mich Marceline
Date: Tue, Jan 25, 2011 at 2:14 AM
Subject: help

Dear Whitney,

Thanks for your mail and still alive, living in fear, hunger and danger here since our country is under military threat because of wicked president who refused to step down after losing election, please do everything in your power to save my life and future, hope for news from you soonest.
God bless

From: Whitney Bradley <>
To Mich Marceline
dateTue, Jan 25, 2011 at 8:42 AM

Today at the store, I bought another gallon of milk even though I have half a gallon left in my fridge “just to be safe.”


From: Mich Marceline
To: Whitney Bradley <>
Date: Tue, Jan 25, 2011 at 12:28 PM
Subject: with good faith

Dear Whitney,
I am very glad to hear from you. The fund will be transferred to your account and there will be no problem. This transaction is 100% risk free and legal.  I just want to leave this country because I have suffered lots of humiliation from my immediate uncles, because they want to inherit everything my late father acquired, as a respect to the long aged inheritance tradition here in my country.  I am a young girl that has a bright future and wouldn't do anything that will jeopardize my future. I do not want anything illegal in my life, so be rest assured that everything will be concluded with transparency, understanding and sincerity between both of us.  In as much as I need your assistance in the fund transfer, I will also want to live with you and continue my life as soon as the money is transferred to your account...Please I would want you to send me your full scanned copy of your identity.

She attached these.  But don't read them because they are "top secret."

From: Whitney Bradley <>
To: Mich Marceline
Date: Tue, Feb 1, 2011 at 8:42 AM

Mich Marceline,

I can totally relate to the “humiliation of immediate uncles.”  Once, my uncle playfully hit me in the face with a pool noodle, so I can only assume that he is after my inheritance. 

Today I put on my finest sweatpants and headed to the bank.  I was all like, “You have to help Michelle Marcel/Mich Marceline because she’s in danger of being humiliated by her uncles!”  And they’re like, “You mean she’s going to get hit with a pool noodle?” and I was like, “EXACTLY.”  Then I showed them all your documents, but they quickly averted their gaze and said, “We can’t read that!  It’s.  Top.  Secret.”  I told them that I would read the document to them so that they didn’t have to actually read it, but they closed their eyes real tight, wrinkled their noses, shoved their fingers in their ears and went “LA LA LA LA LAAAAA.”  I left without completing the transaction.  I spent my afternoon in a janitor’s suit and my finest fake mustache wiring the speakers in the bank to my MIDI keyboard.  Do I even know if that’s a thing you can do?  I do not.  Now, I’m tapping in your top secret message through morse code, so all the people in the bank are subconsciously hearing your fathers message.  The money should be to you soon.  I have no doubts.  My ID is attached.
Click on it to read it.

PS  I don’t have an extra bedroom, so you will be sleeping in my bathtub.  I’ll throw the cat in there so that you two can try to keep warm.  Just a “heads up” I like to shower in the middle of the night and then go back to bed.  You know, 2am-ish.  I’ll do my best to shower around you as you sleep, but if you wake up, you’ll sure be in for an unpleasant surprise!


PS Thanks to everyone who joined our little Facebook fan page!  I'm planning on getting some discussions going on the page.  We'll have some fun ;)