Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A story about me scaring off another one. Enjoy.

Annnnnnd...she’s back.
Hello again, followers of CKN!! I have missed you. Not really. Because I don’t know most of you...and the ones I do know I see pretty often. But still. 
I know it’s been a while since I’ve blogged, so once again I have to grovel a little and give you a list of lame excuses.
Excuse number one:  I’m really busy....doing important stuff.
Excuse number two: I’ve been on another continent, helping...people...and endangered monkeys.
Excuse number three: My contract at my office job ended, so I have had fewer funny things to gripe about.
I’ll give you a hint: two of these are lies.
Anyways, yeah, no more boring office job!! But now I have too much down time, which is kind of good because I like to do laundry and read books, but soon I’m hoping to be working again, and taking classes, because, quite honestly, I’m boooored.
But to occupy my extra time, I’ve been working on some writing (not blog related, apparently....) and doing a little bit of socializing, which is good, because I didn’t do much of that for like...a year.
I’ve recently started going swing dancing weekly, with some of my friends. The repercussive opinions of my friends have been rather mixed on this subject....

Some friends:

Other friends:

But it’s ok because the best kind of friends are the kind who can hate and disdain you and still be your friends! Wait......
Anyways, there are some nice people who go to swing. There are also some gooberish people...who are still nice. But also gooberish.
For example. There is this physically disabled guy (we’ll call him....Disabled Guy) who keeps coming onto me. Don’t get me wrong, I have noooo problem with disabled people.  What bothers me about this guy, is that he sort of uses his disability to instill pity in girls in order to pick them up. Not cool.

So this guy has some sort of disability, I don’t know what it is exactly, because it’s not bad enough for him to be wheelchair bound, but it’s bad enough that he seems to have some difficulty walking. Which begs the question, what is he doing at a swing dancing social?? Thing is, I’m not that good of a dancer myself, so it makes it really hard when the guy who’s leading isn’t easy to follow...but I’m a nice girl. So I don’t turn boys down when they ask me to dance. Because that would hurt their feeeeeelings.....and then their tentacles would bleed all over me. Ew.
So this guy asked me if I wanted to play the “Random Questions” game while we danced....which is the second lamest pickup. But I humored him, and we asked each other dumb irrelevant things that real adults don’t actually ask each other, such as, “What’s your favorite color?” or “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” Yaaaawn.
Then he asked a brilllllllliant question. “Soooo....I’m not coming onto you or anything, but do you have a boyfriend?”
Yeah, boys, I hate to break it to you, but when you guys ask us that, we ladies are smart enough to know you’re lying.
But I politely said, “No....”
To which he replied, “Fiance...?”
And then my favorite part happened. This is where I became Not a Nice Girl, and I said, “You didn’t ask me if I had a husband.”
The look on his face gave me leave to be convinced he’d crapped his pants.

Like I said. It really wasn’t his disability that turned me off, I just didn’t like him as a person. But seeing as there’s no nice way to say that, I carefully avoided him for the rest of the evening.
The End.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

"Dostoevsky's Points are as Solid as Taylor Lautner's Abs" and Other Similies That Will Disappoint Your English Teacher

This weeks was like being slapped in the face with my own hand, which wasn't actually too bad because I moisturize.  Then the week got better.  And then my futon turned on me, so it was bad again.

Me: Hello my dear, beautiful futon to whom I am so grateful.  Let me reclineth against your “really dirty because the cat sheds and I accidentally give away my dust-buster charger to GoodWill but that’s okay because someone is probably wearing it as a makeshift belt right now” cushions, that I might starteth my German homework.

Futon: Nope. I gonna fold you.

And it did.
I would have asked Ryan to take a picture, but as the futon folded me in half, I forgot that it was just a futon, and for about 4 seconds, I thought that a fire-monster was trying to drag me to Hell.  So Ryan did not have time to take a picture because of my instantaneous reaction to flail wildly, and also my new-found fear of futons means reenactment pictures are an impossibility.

(That’s not really going to be a thing, but "Whitney's Science Corner" sounds like a place where kids would go to make fruit snacks out of Kool-Aid, and that's adorable.)

Today I am giving you an anatomy lesson, because anatomy is sexist, so I changed it.

This is Adam and Eve:

Why is it Lego Adam and Eve?  It may be because all of the other pictures of Adam and Eve were super naked, and Lego naked does not strip away innocence as much as regular naked tends to do.  OR, it may be that I believe that God intended everything to be very plastic and pointy, and after the fall of mankind, God let some guy create Legos so that man would see a glimpse of perfection: plastic stuff.  Once again I have proved that Plastic > Paper.

Just in case you ARE offended by naked Legos, I added the black bar because I care.

Adam and Eve each have their respective "neck bulges," which is referred to as the "Adam's Apple."  But Eve has her own neck fruit, so I named it.  Someone needs to keep track of how much I contribute to science, because it is a lot.

And now you are much more educated than before you read this blog. Actually, you're pre-educated because the "Eve's Peach" is ahead of its time and hasn't been accepted by the many science professors to whom I pleaded my case and called chauvinists.  Then they were all, "Whitney, I'm a girl scientist and I teach computer science which really has nothing to do with naming body parts."  And then I walked away because my attempt to use big words and my inability to distinguish between the various branches of science defeated me once again. 


If you didn’t read last week’s post, go do that.

I had a couple people send me emails, and a couple people left comments like, “WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!? I CAN’T STAND NOT KNOWING WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT DEER POOPED AT YOU!”  And I’m like, “Woah, read a book.”

But I will let you know what happened because I love all you weirdos so very much.

Nothing happened.

Well, I guess that's only kinda true.  I came downstairs the other day and saw about 25 deer lining the perimeter of the house, and the next day, a deer sacrificed its body to damage my sister's boyfriend's car and when I found out, I whispered under my breath, "It's begun," and everyone was like, "what?" but I was too busy running upstairs to find my old fencing swords and a Nerf Gun.  It wasn't until a few hours later that I realized that old fencing swords were not going to be enough protection because they have those little plastic balls on the tip, so if I stabbed the deer, he would be all like, "That was a lovely parry and thrust," and I'd be like, "Thank you, deer," and then I would die.

I'm kinda planning on waking up to this:

And I'll be all, "You can't call me that!  Only my best friends call me that.  And hold on a second while I grab my fencing sword that I totally destroyed because I tried to get the plastic ball off the top in anticipation for your attack.  I also have this Nerf Gun, but the darts got bent when I stuck the suction cups to the door and tried to climb up them like Spider-Man, so they don't usually actually leave the gun, even when I push this little button.  See?  Also, I was going to eat this Pop Tart, but if giving it to you will postpone my death, you may have it."