Little Lucifer

Arachnophobia is defined as:

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I believe I have this. I am not a doctor, nor have I gone to a doctor to confirm, but I fucking hate spiders. And I’m sure they hate me too. They find me everywhere: the shower, my room, outside. I know that technically, I’m infiltrating their environment if I’m outside, but I’m narcissistic enough to believe they shouldn’t be there. Spiders are like serial killers to me. They look creepy, they move fast, and I’m almost positive they have axes in their back pockets.

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My friend Carolina sleeps in my room on Mondays and Tuesdays because she has work across the street from my dorm. We were studying together on Tuesday and I decided to take a break. My breaks last about an hour, while my study periods drone on for about 10 minutes. Journalism is a truly torturous major. I was laying on my bed during my short study break and there it was: a killer black spider crawling around on my ceiling. Once I see a spider, I can’t ignore it- similar to when a sex scene comes on while you’re watching a movie with your parents.jennifer-lawrence-scared-funny-face

When I pointed it out to Carolina, it was clear that she was not willing to kill miniature Satan with 8 legs. I continued to ask her to kill it despite her hesitance. I insisted that my arachnophobia would get in the way of killing it properly. As she continued to refuse to put her big girl pants on and step up to the plate, I tried to make her feel guilty while I built up the courage to approach little Lucifer.

Let me make one thing clear: I want all spiders to die. I’m not against murdering them all. I just have a hard time getting near them. It’s not a moral issue. I don’t want you to mistake me for a decent human being.

I had goosebumps all over my body (SINCE I HAVE CLINICAL ARACHNOPHOBIA) and I walked over to a chair in my room.  For whatever reason, my school puts rocking chairs into the residence halls, as opposed to regular chairs – It’s weird that the administration assumes we’re all 90 years old. I began to position my rocking chair underneath the spider; I did this while keeping one eye on the spider.

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All of a sudden, the spider decided to do the little Spiderman thing and hang its web from the ceiling (like the asshole that he was). I began to scream as if someone had told me vodka would stop being sold in the world. This inevitably made Carolina start screaming as well. Part of me thought that the spider had jumped on me in an effort to either be friendly or kill me and I danced around trying to get if off, breaking my necklace in the process. Cool.

When I finally settled down next to Carolina, we looked at the ceiling and tried to find the spider, hoping it hadn’t left the ceiling. I thought it had committed spider suicide and jumped to its death. In most instances, I would have felt relieved by spider suicide, but my carpet is navy blue and I wouldn’t have been able to confirm little Lucifer’s death.

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Then, there it was, back in its cozy spot on my ceiling. One of my floor mates had heard our screams and texted me to ask if everything was ok. I wrote back “no. spider. please kill it.” It turned out that the only person willing to kill El Diablo was a little under 5 feet tall, a feisty female munchkin at best. She walked in casually and asked me where it was. I pointed in its direction trembling with fear. She stood up on my rocking chair and reached for tiny Satan, and just when I thought my life would be back on track, she could not reach El Diablo r; she was too short. In my time of crisis, I was overwhelmed with the idea that a spider would be living with me permanently (he hadn’t even bought me dinner; it was too early in the relationship). However, the munchkin was able to think quickly and left the room momentarily to go put high heels on. As far as I was concerned, it was the most innovative idea I had ever heard of. “She will be the next Steve Jobs,” I thought. “Or Samantha Jobs, I guess (since she’s a girl).”

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She stood up on the rocking chair with her bravery and high heels and killed little Lucifer with one smoosh of a napkin. “MY HERO!” I screamed. The munchkin smiled and walked out of the room just as casually as she had walked in. Carolina and I sat there basking in relief and continued to avoid homework at all costs.

 

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Transformation Tuesday: It’s Britney Bitch

Britney Spears has taught us a lot since the 90s. I thought it would be fun to examine her Transformation for Transformation Tuesday and lifelong lessons that we can all cherish. Here’s what Britney has taught us over the years:

1) It’s good to start your career off being adorable and with a considerable amount of clothing.

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2) Wearing pigtails while insisting on your lack of innocence will in fact benefit your career.

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3) A camel toe will rarely detract from a woman’s overall hotness. She also confirms our fear that we would have to go on a serious diet in order to live in outer space during the 90s.

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4) Snakes are a great sub-accessory to your belly button piercing.

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5) Wow. Really Justin? Those sunglasses? Come on now. (Not sure about the life lesson to be learned here).

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6) You do not need Tarzan to be Jane.

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7) Debunking the myth that all flight attendants are unattractive.

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8) Debunking the other myth that you need to put clothes on before going to work, taking casual Fridays to a whole new level.

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9) The guy who prides himself on his Ed Hardy T-Shirt collection will make a good life partner.

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10) You can still look cute during mental breakdowns. Hubba Hubba Brit, I’d swipe right.

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11) Future Britney would not swipe right on past Britney.

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12) Umbrellas double as baseball bats.

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13) It’s cool to mix Xanax and vodka before your VMA performance. It will help keep your lip-syncing on track.

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14) Teaching elephants to sit, stay and roll over is sexy.

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15) Being sexy is sexy. You can wear whatever you want in your teens and 20s as long as you make up for it by looking like this in your 30s. I am willing to forgive the denim on denim thing featured earlier in this post.

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A special thanks to Britney. Her song “You Drive Me Crazy” led to a lot of embarrassing choreographed videos starring my sister and I during 2003. And her other song “Work Bitch,” gets me through most of my workouts. Brit approves.

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The Vagina Monologues

I am not an actress. I prefer writing over most things (aside from sleeping, eating and dressing my dog up in cute outfits). The last time I remember auditioning for any sort of play was in the 8th grade. I auditioned for Beauty and the Beast and got the role of the semi-slutty feather duster with a french accent. It was a fun experience, but not one that I think about often. Recently, I saw that my school was having auditions for a play called the Vagina Monologues. Keep in mind that I have not actually ever seen the play in its entirety. I took a wild guess that it was about vaginas and I think vaginas are super cool. After all, that’s most likely how you came into existence, unless the stork played a large role in your birth and Santa still brings you presents. I was feeling particularly spontaneous one night and needed some good material for my blog since I’ve been MIA for most of the semester. (Once again, if anyone wants to pay me to write these posts, I will gladly drop out of college. The offer will stand until I graduate. And maybe after that.) I walked into the auditions similar to the way I imagine a man in a business suit walks into a strip club: excited, confused and ready to see vaginas.

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I was number 56 – though I did envision myself being number 69 since I thought that would be fitting. I sat down to fill out a questionnaire and choose the monologue I would be auditioning with. The first few questions were basic: name, email, etc. Then it asked if I had any acting experience. I figured being a tour guide would help me a little more than putting ‘none whatsoever,’ so I talked about how I was comfortable in front of decently large audiences. The following two questions were ones that I had never asked myself: 1) If your vagina could talk, what would it say in three words? 2) If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?

Why had I never thought about this before? Clearly she has feelings too. For the first question I answered:

I love tati.

For the second question I answered:

A crown, FOR SHE IS QUEEN

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For the following hour, I rehearsed my monologue (like a goddamn pro). There were three monologues to choose from. The first one was half serious/half funny, the second one was all funny and the third was all serious. Knowing myself, I knew I would royally fuck up anything that was meant to be serious. I decided to go with the funny one. It was about a female sex worker/dominatrix who only dominated other women. She was someone I could see myself going to Starbucks with occasionally and I liked that about her.

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I awkwardly walked into the classroom and was greeted by four directors. They were all super friendly and told me I could begin whenever I felt comfortable. Comfortable was a strong word to use in this particular situation. I knew if I didn’t mentally yell at myself to start the first line, it would never happen:

I love vaginas.

After I got the first line out, the rest was easy to recite. The whole audition itself is a blur, but I know for a fact that I looked into each of the directors’ eyes and made a noticeable hand job motion when I was forced to use the word ‘dildo.’ I felt like this was the best way to make a lasting impression.

And it worked. I have now been cast in the vagina monologues as woman #3. *Drops mic and walks out.*

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Having Fun with Google

Although this isn’t something that bothers me regularly, I have always had a fear of someone viewing my internet history. It’s usually comprised of highly idiotic google searches (i.e. do dolphins have nostrils? or can I mix benodryl with vodka?) But sometimes I search things that would make me look criminally insane if seen out of context or without an explanation. So to address my fear and for your entertainment, I have decided to explain my internet history and google searches from earlier this week:

“Shia LaBeouf” Life – Rob Cantor

This video is actually hysterical and I highly recommend watching it. I was trying to show it to my sister. She didn’t end up understanding why I thought it was funny. She’s clearly not as funny as I think I am.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0u4M6vppCI

Putting Butter in Your Coffee

I searched this because I was at my friend’s house and he was making coffee. He was all “taste this.” I tasted it and it tasted different than normal coffee, but I didn’t think anything of it. Then he asked me if I liked it and I said yes. I was skeptical of his facial expression so I asked what he put in it and he told me he added butter instead of creamer or milk, so I searched it on google to see if this was his idea or if it was already a thing in the real world. It’s a thing. A disgusting sounding thing.

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Plaid Skirt

I have no idea why I searched this. I don’t even want a plaid skirt.

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Karen Kilgariff

I went to a comedy show when I was in Los Angeles for Winter Break and she was one of the comedians. SHE’S HILARIOUS. I was trying to find her twitter and located it successfully. Cha – Ching!

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How does Stephen Hawking have sex?

My mom and I had just finished watching “The Theory of Everything.” She wondered aloud how he and his wife had sex (since they popped out like 8 kids), so I googled it. Not going to spoil this one for you.

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‘Friends’ Theme Song Lyrics

I have been watching ‘Friends’ religiously and whenever I would sing along to the theme song, there was always one line that I couldn’t understand. It was the line that says “Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s DOA.” I didn’t understand the DOA part, so I had been making up different words that sounded similar to DOA until I googled the lyrics. That’s how I learned that DOA stands for Dead on Arrival — which, by the way, is not a good adjective for your love life. (but happy almost valentine’s day)

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Is Benadryl Stronger Than Nyquil 

I got sick and was trying to find a drug that would knock me out for 8 hours straight since I kept waking up not being able to breathe in the middle of the night. Benadryl is the way to go.

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Utero 

I wanted to tweet “I’m not fat, I ate my twin in utero.” But I kept spelling it ‘eutero’ and didn’t understand why my phone said I was spelling it wrong. Now I understand, but my IQ is just as low as it was before I learned that.

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Caviar

I was trying to order sushi and the menu said the ‘crazy roll’ had caviar on it, but for some reason I kept picturing calamari and didn’t fully comprehend how that would fit into the sushi roll that I wanted. Caviar are those little orange balls that don’t taste like anything. They put them on top of sushi to make it look pretty (I assume). I’m not sure what the point of caviar is. I guess I’ll google it later.

P.S. I’m considering dropping out of school to be a sushi chef. That way, I won’t have to wait 45 minutes for someone to bring it to me.

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what bitch? I’m ready.

Nixer Mixers: The Top 10 Drinking Dangers

I stumbled upon this article because I was trying to determine if it would be a poor choice to mix alcohol with Sudafed (I had a cold. But that generally doesn’t prevent me from attending parties). Just so you know, you totally can and nothing bad will happen. However, you’re only allowed to buy a certain amount at a time since you can go all Walter White and make meth with it.

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Jennifer Anniston’s Workout

I was watching ‘Friends’ again and trying to figure out how to get my arms to look like Jennifer Anniston’s. Her bod is perfection.

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Street Names of Cocaine

Let’s get something straight – I don’t associate with drugs of any kind. However, since I’m in college, I figured it would be helpful to know the street names of common collegiate drugs. Here are some of the code names for cocaine: Nose Candy, Snow, White Pony, Crack (which isn’t very conspicuous if you ask me).

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Calories in Fried Oreo

I ate three fried oreos last night and was trying to figure out if I had to go to the gym or not. I didn’t end up going to the gym, but it was well over 300 calories that went straight to my thighs.

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Tune in next time to read about my google searches regarding valentine’s day drinking games! ❤

Protesting Against Stupid People Who Get to be on TV

Surprise, surprise I haven’t been keeping up with any of my New Years Resolutions. Partly because I’ve temporarily misplaced the notebook that I wrote them in, but let’s be honest with myself…New Years Resolutions are there to remind you of how skinny you’re supposed to be.

But I’m here like:

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My mom tried to tell me that the scale we have adds 10 pounds to your actual weight. I almost got excited and then she added “Well that’s what I tell myself anyway.” She’s self aware and delusional at the same time. But I don’t hold it against her because that’s how I approach dating. “He hasn’t called because he’s intimidated by how funny and awesome I am. Clearly.”

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So while I was sitting on my ass (which is growing exponentially as the days go by) yesterday, I was watching “My Strange Addiction.” It’s one of those horrendous television shows on TLC that follows people with *gasp* strange addictions. I managed to squeeze in 4 or 5 episodes before I started to feel my IQ plummeting. I thought it was interesting that the show mainly featured women. Like why aren’t more men addicted to smelling moth balls? They were addicted to eating things like gasoline, cat treats, tire parts, and vapor rub. It really made me wonder how you begin an addiction like that. How does one discover that they enjoy drinking GASOLINE? The girl who drank gasoline was a 20 year old brunette whose face consistently mirrored the expression of a disinterested turtle. Even her crying face was super stoic and basically read ‘This intervention is yawn inducing. Where’s my gasoline bottle?’ She explained that she began her potentially fatal habit because she ‘always liked the smell of it.’ So one day she said to herself ‘well if it smells good, it must also taste good.’ I wonder what would happen if I applied the same logic and tried to eat humans that I thought smelled nice. Perhaps I could be featured on the show. I love both crazy and stupid people, but I would really prefer that they weren’t featured on television as often. As a form of protest, I have compiled a list of shows that should have never made it on TV:

My Strange Addiction (‘Watch Me Eat Weird Shit’)

Keeping Up with the Kardashians (also known as ‘First World Problems’ and ‘I Made a Really Good Sex Tape’)

The Honey Boo Boo Show (with the chubby people)

Jersey Shore (‘Orange People that Drink and Go to the Gym’)

Real World (‘Girls Making Out with Other Girls Occasionally’)

16 and Pregnant (‘They Don’t Have Condoms in the Midwest’)

Toddlers in Tiaras (‘The Opposite of Child Protective Services’)

I didn’t include My 600 Pound Life because I like watching it and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside regarding my own weight. Also, it works as an appetite suppressant. Feel free to add to the list!

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My Idea of Poetry

I always go through other people’s stuff if the opportunity presents itself. Today was more fun than usual because I was going through my own stuff and I found a poem I wrote my first year of college for my creative writing class. It’s about dating and I completely made it up the night before I was supposed to read it in class. Disclaimer – this never happened to me (yet) Here it is in all its glory:

Blind Date

We sat down at the unoriginal Chinese restaurant

And I analyzed his appearance.

I was Picasso and he was a shitty painting.

I saw everything that needed to be fixed.

His brown hair was too short, but that would grow.

His nose was too narrow, but his blue eyes made up for that.

His head seemed a bit big for his body, but once we

Were married, I would make him go to the gym.

I thought I could get past his physical appearance,

But once he began to speak, I saw that his ultimate

Downfall was everything that came out of his mouth;

Including the occasional piece of rice.

By the time dessert came, I could hear his pants

Beginning to unbutton. He had consumed the

Amount of food necessary to feed a baby elephant.

But baby elephants are cute.

My mind was drifting toward laundry and world peace

When something he said captured my diminishing attention.

C.E.O.

It felt like a combination of eating cake and having sex.

Our kids would be decent looking and I would get to quit

My job. I looked at his round belly and his uneven beard.

Baby elephants are cute.

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I also vaguely remember writing a poem personifying vodka, so I’ll try to dig up that one soon.

Procrastinating on My Resolutions

If I’m not mistaken, January is the month when everyone is fulfilling their new years resolutions easily and proudly. Once February hits, it all goes back to normal and the gym is less crowded (thank God). Somehow I’m managing to do the opposite. In my defense, it is winter break for me since I’m still an undergraduate and I’ve been justifying my laziness with the GPA I got this semester and the good old “you’ve got plenty of time” or “diet starts tomorrow.” Since I received a 3.8 this semester, I have informed my mother that my drinking habits will remain the same.

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Although I’m on break, I’m supposed to be filling out applications and writing for websites and all that good stuff, but instead, I’ve been talking to my dog and taking her for walks 8 times a day, going through my entire computer, watching awful movies and eating enough to feed a small family. Let me explain the awful movies thing really quick. Once I start a movie, I have to finish it and see how it ends. They usually have horrendous endings. I finished the movie Labor Day yesterday and it ended just as terribly as it began. At least they’re consistent.

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Naturally, Starbucks has become by significant other and I like to visit him twice a day, like a good girlfriend should.

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BUT TODAY IS THE DAY! I refuse to break up with Starbucks, but I’m going to go read my resolutions and do whatever they tell me to do. But first I’m going to walk my dog for only the second time today and tell her how pretty she is.

My dog happily wearing a small sombrero.

My dog happily wearing a small sombrero.

On a completely irrelevant note, my sister took my car so I can’t exactly go anywhere at the moment. This will inevitably help me blog more which is one of my resolutions. You’re welcome bitches.

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