Nuts

I think if I ever become a lesbian, I’m going to get one of those little medical bracelets that says, “Allergic to Nuts.” Of course, that might not be such a great idea in the event that I pass out and swell up from a bee sting. The paramedics might read my hilarious joke of a bracelet and mistakenly administer a shot of Anti-Nuts to me. If I actually survive the bee sting Anti-Nuts ordeal, I can tell people who give me a hard time over being gay that it’s in my blood, and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

There’s not much chance of any of this happening, though, cause I loves me some penis, but more importantly, I’m not allergic to bee stings.

Fucking Customers

I used to work at a hotel, and I have to say, it sucked. The worst part of the job was not the people who requested fifteen million cleaner towels or the people who got mad at me because they made their reservations at the other Holiday Inn, and it wasn't even the nasty old men who came in from the strip club Pure Gold across the street in the mood to give me a key to their room, even though I was the one who had just made their key and handed it to them and could easily make my own copy if I felt so inclined; nope, instead it was the lost people who called for directions from Interstate Four.

Let me start out by saying that there is no Interstate Four. There is a road called New Circle and its number is four, and it only remotely resembles an interstate in the sense that cars drive on both sides of it. That being said, this is how a typical conversation would go at least ten times a week:

"Holiday Inn South, this is Audrey, how can I help you?"

"YES! I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND YOUR HOTEL! I'M CALLING FROM!--hold on a second. What road is this honey? Well what does that green sign say on it? OKAY! I'M CALLING FROM INTERSTATE FOUR!"

*Mumble mumble I hate my life*
"Interstate Four you say?"

"YES! AND I THINK I'VE PASSED THE SAME BLUE BUILDING A COUPLE TIMES NOW!"

"Then that would imply that you're on a circle, wouldn't it?"

"YES... I BELIEVE SO."

"SO THEN YOU'RE NOT ON A MOTHER FUCKING INTERSTATE, ARE YOU? Get off the damn phone, you RETARD! I hate my life."

...Okay, the conversations never ended like that, except for the I hate my life part. To keep myself from blowing up at the ignorant people who apparently frequent hotels (we'll call them the "general public" for the sake of argument), I usually just practiced physical self torture in the break room, and it seemed to work pretty well. You know, there's a reason those things are called "break rooms", and it doesn't have as much to do with taking a break from work as it does with nursing your broken spirit.

Fucking customers. Blessed italics.

T-t-t-t-t-t-t-trash

You know what feels weird doing? Throwing away a trash can. I had to do it today, and while I was putting it in another, bigger trash can--hold up. Let me start over. First I had to find a place to throw it away, which caused a malfunction in my brain unlike any I had experienced before that made my head and eyes twitch for many seconds without accomplishing anything, but then the place where my brain figured out to throw the trash can away turned out to just be a bigger trash can... in another room, see. Picking up the smaller, non-functioning trash can in order to put it inside the bigger, working one somehow felt very wrong. I know what you're thinking. How does a trash can stop working? All you do is throw trash at it, which pretty much any object is capable of handling, especially an immobile infant, but trust me. There are ways.

So that was my Christmas, throwing away a trash can. I also deep-cleaned my kitchen and swept the whole house and replaced light bulbs on high ceilings and threw away the school work from this past semester and started cleaning my room. I didn't so much open any presents or speak to a single person, but Christmas was still very fulfilling, probably more so. Hopefully I'll get to experience another Christmas like this again next year.

Yeah right. I'm never letting my house get that dirty again, and this time I'm serious.

Long Time No See 2

I am finally all the way better from being all the way sick. I'll try not to do that again for a while.

Christmas was a success for me. (My family already had it on Monday.) Everybody liked the presents I got them, except maybe my oldest sister. I got her two extremely heavy books from the Goodwill. One was about medical terminology and one was about calculus, neither of which should interest her at all because she is a social worker. Luckily they were not purchased for reading. I'll leave it at that...

My parents got me a trip to New York, which I will partake of this May after I GRADUATE. I started thinking about graduating today, and I got really freaked out. When you live in the same house for eighteen years and then one day graduate high school and move away to college, you think it's going to last forever, but apparently it doesn't because UK is saying, "You've taken too many classes! It's time for you to take your enlightened ass somewhere else." Thanks UK, but I'd rather not be a grown-up. What other majors do you offer?

I would very much like to write a book-long entry because everyone went home for Christmas and I'm stuck here in Lexington with nothing to do except maybe the two month old pile of dishes, but I should probably divvy up my ramblings over the next few days to keep myself occupied.

I shall finish by listing the remaining things I received for Christmas: chapstick, a Pez dispenser, stamps, a water boiler, and a Jesus book. Lame presents, yes, but to make up for it I stole some of the Christmas presents from my sister that I was fancying when I saw her open them.

Long Time No See 1

"Deeyanher, what IS up with you? You dead or something?"

No no, I am not dead; I have simply had a brush with death. You see Death himself decided to invade my lungs in the form of influenza on the day of my last two finals earlier this week. I didn't do so great on my tests as a result, but at least I'm still sick. No wait, that's a bad thing. Everything all around sucks.

While I have regained the ability to sit upright and type (obviously), I have not yet returned to a coherent state, thanks wholly to Nyquil, so if this doesn't make sense, fish and peanut butter snicker doodles.

Bah-lun! Bah-lun!

Here's an idea for a party:

Hang balloons from the ceiling at eye level. Attach a needle to the end of each of your blindfolded guests' noses. (You can attach the needles however crazily you want to because you and your party friends are sooo silly.) Next send one person at a time into the balloon room so that they can pop balloons with their noses. No hands allowed! Ha ha. We're so crazy.

Since you have already tied a notecard to the string of each balloon listing a doorprize, once your silly guest has popped a balloon, he/she gets to pull off his/her blindfold and read what he/she has won. What fun!

Here's the catch: All the balloons in the room are white and prescribe typical doorprizes, like shampoo or beer cans, to whichever guests pop them, only there's one exception--the red balloon. The red balloon has been blown up by your coughing sick friend who has Strep Throat, and the notecard attached to it reads, "Disease." Heh, they'll never see it coming.

Thank GOD... for Ellipses

I have hot loooks. I am radiantly beautiful.

...Okay, I didn't mean that. I just made the mistake of asking, "What should I write on Deeyanher Land tonight?"

I am going skiing as soon as possible. I luuuv winter and am usually a lazy-ass, except in said month which I luuuuv. Season. That's season that I luv. But anyway. When most animals (I'm thinking what--97% of them?) are hibernating during the Winter months, I make the trip to the ice skating rink, play in the snow, and soon hit the slopes, all once apiece, burning off my daily 4000 caloric Christmas cookie intake. These yearly dates I have with the ice and snow, fun and carefree as they are, also count as my exercise for the remainder of the year, and I'm not talking about 'til December 31st either. I mean until we've made it all the way around the sun to this very spot again. In case you're wondering why my Winter exercise counts more than, say, Spring or Summer exercise, it's because I get it done at such a zany, unexpected time of year when mammals technically are not required to move off their fat lazy butts or remove the I-Don't-Care-How-Fattening-It-Is-I-See-Red-And-Green-Sprinkles food pump that leads directly to their mouths. It's like how doing a biology-themed word search can count for as many points as a one-page paper you spent an hour on about why water has capillarity, cohesiveness, and polarity because it's the end of the semester and you haven't been pulling your weight. It's called extra credit.

So who wants to go skiing with me? We're rounding up the crew, and so far two of us, maybe three are on board. What's the matter? Are you afraid you're going to hurt yourself because you're not very coordinated or you've never skied before? Well, you're probably right, so you can forfeit the funds you would have spent on the trip and donate them toward the Take Deeyanher to Paoli Peaks charity. All contributions are appreciated.

What? Oh, yeah I did an A in Calculus IV. Sheesh.

Fuck Da Damn Snizow

I got stizuck in the cizar for five motha fuckin' hizours today cuz the damn snizow.

...But eventually my family made it to Mamaw's house for the annual Christmas gathering, and I got a darling wooden bucket with wooden things in it for a present. It is currently my favorite wooden bucket.

"What kind of wooden things?"

Um, a wooden hairbrush, a wooden mirror, a wooden back massager that looked like a--well, it had two rolley balls on the end of a stick--and some wood-scented bubble bath. No, it actually smells flower-tastic.

Oh, and a loofah.

And the Little Ballerina Lived Happily Ev-- Watch Out!! There's an Over-Sized Kitchen Utensil Heading Straight for You!

I was going to go iceskating today, but the Lexington Ice Center is hosting a performance of The Nutcracker in place of their usual skating hours. Tell me, could anything in this non-fairytale dimension be scarier than a stiff seven-foot tall, rosy-cheek'd nutcracker puppet gliding around on the icy cold terrain without even moving his feet? Children should not be subjected to such nightmare-inducing terrors.

Fact: Nutcrackers are known for their stealth attacks, as well as their appetites for children... They love eating children.

As for yesterday afternoon's scholastic events, my topology test made me want to find the nearest womb and sew myself into it, whereas my calculus test gave me no choice but to exalt, "Suck it!", much to my classmates' dismay. I licked that test's chode, which is surprising since it was my third test in a row. Only three finals to go and I'm done with this semester. Will I pass all my classes? That remains to be seen. I'd rather not think about the prospects.

P.S.--I think the term "a baker's dozen" is really starting to catch on. Today I heard a ninety-two year-old use it.

Dangit! That's not cool...

13

I have my last two tests of the day here in a baker's dozen*. I did pretty well on this morning's Spanish test. I probably got a baker's dozen points on the listening part alone, and that's only worth ten points. I don't know how well I'll do on my calculus final. I've studied Laplace Transforms for a baker's dozen hours, so I might do alright. As for my topology test, however, I'll be lucky if a get a baker's dozen on it.

*Don't be pissed off at me for incorporating the term "baker's dozen" into my vocabulary before you had the chance to think of such a wildly creative and cool idea. Some people just aren't as funny as me. It's okay. You've still got "fortnight," so quit bitching.

Oh Bring Us Some Piggy Pudding

It's pretty important that I keep reminding everybody what I want for Christmas, so here I am republishing Deeyanher's Christmas Wish List:

1) A Keytar, preferably red

I also wouldn't mind if it made a V at the bottom instead of being flat.

2) A BeDazzler

It puts rhinestones on your clothes. What more could you want?

3) A Wicker Cornucopia

Because everybody needs a horn of plenty.

Now the whole point of this republish is that I am adding an item to my list. See, I'm assuming that at least five of Items 1-3 have already been purchased for me, and I'm a girl who likes a little variety... you know, the useless kind. So here is the fourth addition to the list:

4) A Venus Flytrap



If nobody can find a real Venus flytrap, a puppet will do.

Ha haaaaaa No It Won't.

Frontal Lobotomies and Chicken

I had to sit near the loudest man I have ever heard in my life at a Chinese restaurant today. He sounded like he was right in my ear or had a microphone or something, but in reality he was ten feet away. I thought he was on a cell phone, but then I realized that a girl was yessing and mm-hmming all his statements at a normal person volume. Poor girl. She looked foreign, so she probably didn't know how socially unadjusted he was in this culture. Let's see here, what all did he talk about? Oh yes--gay people, Christianity, student council, and calculus. He really won me over with the math talk.

KILL HIM.

I have a metric ton of tests coming up on Wednesday, during the so-called "dead week," when teachers are supposedly required to not give homework or tests. If I keep up with studying I might do alright, but I think I'd rather have a frontal lobotomy so that I could quit worrying about this shit.

Trains, Planes, and Banana Boats

You know, the one time I was waiting for a train to pass and asked, "Who actually drives those thing?", I happened to be in the car with a train conductor who said, "I do."

That's all.

Poo Streamers

Everybody has heard jokes about people walking around with toilet paper stuck to their shoes, but how many people have actually seen such a sight?

I did today. A guy on campus had a big stream of toilet paper trailing out from under the cuff of his pants, and he was walking to class like it wasn't nobody's business. Everybody behind this Mr. Cool (me included) was laughing and pointing like healthy, good-humored toddlers. Most people were probably giggling over how embarrassed he would be when he realized he'd been carrying around leftovers from this morning's doings, but I was laughing because I knew that not too long ago he'd pooped. Ha haaaaaa POOP. (Pssst. You're not supposed to let anybody else know when you do that.)

My question is, how many parts of his body did he need to wipe? I don't really see how his business got all the way down there around his legs and ankles, or if he were perfectly orderly about the whole thing, why twenty-five squares were necessary. I wonder if he even bothered to detach them from the roll before he started going at it like a rabid lemur. And if you were in his place (which I know you have been before, you poop machine), wouldn't you wonder where all that toilet paper had gone instead of just assuming it had magically disappeared into a puff of smoke?

Ahhh, does anything not funny ever happen in the bathroom?

P.S.--As a result of the overwhelming amount of commentary from literally sixes of you, I'm soon going to abolish the "Post Comment" option. If there are any objections, speak now, or just talk me into reinstalling it later.

Dammit! I just want to sound mean...

Avast! A Banana Peel!

I'm in a dark, secluded section of the Fine Arts Library right now, and a guy I know who just shaved off every inch of body hair and who I no longer recognized as a result of this shearing just crept by me whispering "Audleeeeey... Audleeeeey..." (a modification of my name, for you stupids) in his best Gollum voice. It was pretty cool, if you think shitting your pants is cool.

I, Deeyanher, hereby solemnly swear never to reference Lord of the Rings again.

I accidentally typed Lord of the Rinds just now, and I think I would like a movie by that title much better. BOOK. I said book. A guy who chooses rinds as his object to be lord of would probably be pretty interesting to watch. I bet he would have the shell of a watermelon for a hat and potato peels for fingers. He'd live in a compost heap so that every morning he could climb to the top of it and yell, "I'm the king of this mountain!"

At least that's what I would do if I were Lord of the Rinds.
Love me?

Blah blah blah.

Blah blah blah School, blah blah blah, My Calculus teacher moved the final to a week from today, blah blah blah, I'm gonna fail and die a lonely homeless man in the gutter, blah blah blah, I have no feeling in my left hand, except when I bend it down. Then it shoots lasers of pain down my wrist.