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, to...to...
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.

ACTUAL STORY
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.

Confrontation

Confusion

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!!!!!

-Whitney

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.

EMAILS

from: marchillojm@sbcglobal.net
to:
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...
Tel‏‏signed-bysbcglobal.net

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

fromWhitney Bradley <rachelandwhitney@gmail.com>
to: marchillojm@sbcglobal.net
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...
mailed-bygmail.com

I. AM. GONNA. PEE.

from: Mercedes Benz Company <uknagodoh@gmail.com>
reply-to: nat.west-transferdept@hotmail.co.uk
to: rachelandwhitney@gmail.com
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:
Email: nat.west-transferdept@hotmail.co.uk

fromWhitney Bradley <rachelandwhitney@gmail.com>
To <nat.west-transferdept@hotmail.co.uk
date Wed, Feb 9, 2011 at 7:14 PM
subject I Win All Your Cars
mailed-bygmail.com

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.

Please RSVP ASAP!

-Whitney

Attached is my party flyer.

You guys can all come to my party too.

-Whitney

**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.   http://inventorspot.com/security_system

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.

STORY!

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.

-Whitney

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

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.

I did NOTHING FOR FIVE DAYS.

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!

MICHELLE MARCEL PT. 2

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
To: rachelandwhitney@gmail.com
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
Michelle


From: Whitney Bradley <rachelandwhitney@gmail.com>
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.”

-Whitney


From: Mich Marceline
To: Whitney Bradley <rachelandwhitney@gmail.com>
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.
Michelle

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

From: Whitney Bradley <rachelandwhitney@gmail.com>
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!

Lovsies!
Whitney


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 ;)

My brother is so cute. Please don't murder me.

Okay. So. I haven’t blogged in a long time. This is because not much funny has gone on in my life, and I just have not been able to compose a worthy post.

This is code for: Rachel is lazy. But she is working on it, so please forgive her. ....Eh, me. I mean me.

Oh, and excuse number 2 is that sometimes I want to blog about people that probably read my blog, and I am afraid they will be insulted. For example, I have a funny story about my brother that I am hesitant to tell you......but it’s SO blogworthy. So I am going to tell it, and if I don’t post again soon you will know that it is either because I am lazy, as is my usual excuse, or that I have been murdered in my sleep by my big brother. Both are equally likely.

So here goes....

It was Christmas Day, 2010. My brother got an iPod. That’s all he got, because an iPod=lots of dollars. 

****You know, just in case that wasn’t clear enough and you needed a picture to comprehend it.

I got lots of presents. So many of them. I don’t want to brag here, but I got a glorious amount of presents that were monetarily equal to my brother’s single present, but still. A. Lot. Of. Presents. Fake Santa came through.

Anyways. One of my presents was a Chemex. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s a fancy glass vessel for making pour-over coffee. It looks kind of like this:

And now I must explain my brother. He is a barista at an Indie coffee shop, and he is incredibly passionate about Good Coffee. If you mention the word “Starbucks” to him, he will probably take a Venti Sugarfree Non-Fat White Chocolate Mocha with Extra Whipped Creme and shove it down your throat, cup, lid, cardboard sleeve and all.

So on Christmas morning, when I opened my present and out came a Chemex, which I had asked Fake Santa for the previous month, my brother said...

So then he proceeded to remove my Chemex from its box, and assemble all the pieces and whatnot, and then he had to make ME a pour over, because I don’t do it right and it’s a science and you have to control all the variables and time it and make it JUST RIGHT......

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he makes it way too strong for me, and variable and science or no, I always like it better when I do it myself.......

So the next day, I told my dad, “I’M GONNA MAKE MY OWN DAMN POUR OVER!!”

And I did.

(Part 2 of that story.....)

The other day I was at my neighbor’s house, because it was Emily Kate’s third birthday, so we ate pizza and cake and did birthdayish things, and as the evening progressed, Emily’s six-year-old sister Madeline began sulking a bit because Emily wouldn’t share her birthday present with Madeline.

I secretly empathized with Emily. She just wanted to make her OWN damn pour over. I mean.........whatever.

Love,

Rachel

My Metaphorical Soap Keeps Requiring me to Pick it Up

There is a very good chance that this post will not be funny at all.   I just took my German final, and just when you start to believe that nothing is more unfunny than German...you have to take a test about German.  And then, when you think nothing can be unfunnier than a German test, you finish your test and try to go hand it in, but your butt gets stuck between two desks and you have to gracefully remove yourself do a little flailing dance to get unstuck and then you accidentally blurt out, "Oh my, pay no attention to me, classroom of people, and keep working diligently on your exam" “That was sexy,” but it wasn’t. sexy.  Basically German is embarrassing and not sexy. 

If you’ve never been here before, maybe you should start here. Or something.  Anywhere but here.

It’s been one of those weeks when you think things are under control, but then bad stuff happens.  Umm, I’m trying to think of a metaphor.  Uhh...this week has been like when the bar of soap falls off of its little ledge in the shower and it lands on your foot but you don’t pick it up so that you can teach it a lesson, but next time you get in the shower you HAVE to pick up the soap and the soap wins.  Soap is smarter than me and German isn’t sexy.

Wait, nevermind.  I just got smarter than soap.

I think I just made an invention in my mind.  Now I have to go draw it!  It’s like shower shoes, only much more...bigger.  It’s basically a tissue box that you stick your foot in.  And since Plastic>Paper Inc. is so successful right now, these shoes are going to have a soft, spongy center, and a thick plastic outer shell because, seriously, is paper going to help you survive the trauma of light foot bruising?  I think not.

Here, I started sketching a commercial, but I can’t think of a name for this invention, so if you think of something, you should let me know.  “Shower Shoes” is both taken and lame, so, yeah.  I’m out of ideas and you guys are really creative.

 

Then also when your friend comes over and says, “Hey, why do you have two plastic bricks in your bathroom?” you can be like, “Because they are my shower shoes and those shoes protect me BETTER THAN ANY MAN EVER COULD!”  Then your friend will not care about your shower shoes, but he or she will know that you are very bitter about being single.


Before I got so distracted, I was ACTUALLY going to write about how Rachel and I were nominated for “Best Original Artwork” on 20sb and how that must make you all idiots because everyone knows that “Best Original Artwork” belongs to a kid who got an associate’s degree in photography and took a picture of a bee that is really close to a flower.  Not ON the flower, but really close.  Seriously. I’m going to google “Bee Close to Flower.” 

Was that not EXACTLY what you were imagining?

But in all seriousness, thank you for the nomination but also go to an art museum.

-Whitney

PS Michelle Marcell emailed me back, not once, but twice.  With like...pictures of "her ID."  I'll post her email and my reply once I work up the energy.  

Crest Finally Made a Line of Toothpaste for Big Kids Like Me, but This has Nothing to do with That

You guys are gonna have to hold on tight, because this is a lot of reading. 

I’ve started replying to spam email because friends are hard to come by  I like to  6   ...nope.  No good reason. 

So, this email is from "Michelle Marcel."  And she sent me this really heartfelt letter while she was crying all over her computer which was a big risk for her because rumor has it that “wet” and “electronic” usually don’t go well together.  I haven't really tested this theory, but I once saw Groundhog Day, and also my hair dryer is really close to my sink, so, yeah, any day now I should find out what really happens.  Anyway, she could have died, you guys.  Actually I just googled “wet and electric” and was shocked that this phrase and many variations had been  googled it looks like vacuums can be both wet and electric so probably Michelle wrote this with a vacuum.


Michelle Marcel

WITH TEARS!!!!!!!!
Quite frankly, I know it may have sounded pretty strange for you on why I chose to contact you who are a complete stranger to me and I must tell you this, I contacted you for the simple reason that we do not know each other. It would be very difficult for me to contact anybody here who knows me for this purpose as I may stand the risk and chance of being cheated of my inheritance because the person would have known my weaknesses. I may even lose my life that is why I decided to contact you a complete stranger.
My name is Michelle Marcel the only child of my parent. During the civil and political crisis in our country, my parents were poisoned by heartless people. Fortunately for me, I was in the school when this tragedy took place to my family. I was in coma for almost two weeks. But I thank the almighty God because I never knew that I could support the shock of losing almost my family.  Right now I am still here in country but very unsafe for me.
I'm living in great fear and bondage. I intend leaving this country as soon as possible but only one thing kept me back. My late father has deposited with one of the prime financial institution the sum of money, $3.2Million USD .But unfortunately he did not complete the transaction before he sudden died.  I have mapped out 25% out of the total money for your help and assistances because it looks stupid for me trying to confide in a total stranger I never met before. By instinct I am convinced you are an honest person and you have the capacity to handle this transaction with me.  As soon as it is done, I will come over with to meet you and spend the rest of my live in your country. I wish to invest the money into estate business and other good business you may propose. I promise to greatly compensate you for any assistance you may offer me. I do not know how you may feel about this but I want you to take this very serious and confidential.

Best wishes
Michelle Marcel

REPLY

Michelle Marcel,

Absolutely!  What do you need?  My social security number?  DNA?  A picture of my mother in a bathing suit?  Just like blond girls on Spring Break, I believe in living life with no regrets.  I would so totally regret not helping you out, you super fantastic girl you. In fact, the only regret that I DO have is that I never heard back from the girlfriends of those four Nigerian Princes for whom I emptied my bank account on several occasions.  I sure hope they're doing alright.

You have a very cool name.  It's too bad with someone with such a cool, alliteration-y  name is stuck in such a lame and unspecified country!  And wow, your the child of only one parent!?  I'm gonna jump way ahead of and assume that you're like...a fungus...or the offspring of an asexually reproducing alien species.  If living in America has taught me anything, it is that I should know nothing about politics but still try to make political jokes, and also I should shoot aliens.  I won't shoot you though because I believe all creatures are like ponies: beautiful, and they just want you to leave them alone with some apples.  Also, if you are an alien and you are just landing here, you should know that surviving in America will require you to own a pantsuit that is both professional and revealing.

I can't wait to hear back from you!  Since you're a girl, and I'm a girl, and we have now had a back-and-forth email conversation, we must be best friends, so good for us!  When you get to America, we should try to bake cookies like all American girls do for fun, and oh will we ever giggle when we drop eggshell in the batter!  I just can't wait!

-Whitney

PS I have some great business ideas for you once you get here.  Like a meat shop called "Bread."  Or a pet store called “Bread.”

PPS  Me: Knock, Knock.  You: Who's there?  Me: Sarah Palin? <Example of American political humor

I’ll update if I hear back from her!

Also, if you guys want to work for Plastic>Paper...we need to come up with a business plan with bar graphs and pentagon charts and whatever else business is about.  We also need advertisements.  I’m thinking our slogan can be, “Paper Burns.  Plastic Gets Melty.” or “Plastic.  Stuff has Plastic on it.  Shouldn’t you?”  Any other suggestions?  I haven’t really decided what our company is going to actually do so we’ll start with a slogan and go from there.

-Whitney