I Can Ride My Bike like a Big Girl

I rode my bike home from work for the first time today!  (yay!)  I forgot to use a headlight…or a headlamp…or any illumination of any kind.  This would have been just fine, except there is a stretch of unlit road on my way home from work.  Luckily, I nice young biker who had a headlight on the front of his bike and a red blinking light on the back passed me, and I was able to follow him down the road.  (Thank you, mysterious stranger!)

To prevent this from happening again, tomorrow I am going to buy:

1)      A headlight

2)      A headlamp

3)      A red blinking light to go behind me

4)      Another headlamp (I’ll wear both at the same time)

5)      A helmet

6)      Googly eyes to glue on the helmet

7)      Plastic Hermes wings to glue on the helmet

8)      One of those dorky vests with the reflectors on them that constructions workers use

I might also want to invest in some kneepads, but then again, I’ve always cared a lot more about my dignity than I have about my safety.  I don’t have much dignity, but what little I have I treasure.

But of all my upcoming bike safety features, I am most excited about the helmet.  The helmet is going to be awesome!  I envision it looking something like this:

Beautiful, isn't it?  Anypoop, I should probably go to bed.  I have to wake up early to write a paper tomorrow (boo!) and I am pretty tired.  G’night!

URL Explanation

People ask me, “Sara, your blog is amazing, but what’s up with the URL?”  Then they steal my shoes and make a run for it while I try to explain.  (Whoever has my sock monkey slippers, please bring them back.  They need me.)  To prevent this from happening again, I’m going to explain my URL right now.

My URL is Gertrude Malloy Mcbumferfumfer because that is the name of my best friend in the whole wide world.  I haven’t really talked about her yet because she told me that I’m not supposed to talk about her to anyone or she’ll punish me again.

Gertrude is a figment of my imagination.  I know she is because she told me so.  She said I imagined her because I was lonely and I like bats.  I didn’t know I like bats.  In fact, I used to be scared of getting one caught in my hair.  But Gertrude told me I like bats, so I must like them on a subconscious level.

Gertrude has grey, pasty skin and red eyes that can kill small animals with a single look.  She sleeps upside-down in my closet every night like a bat.  She doesn’t eat much; mostly bugs and the occasional mouse.  I once asked her if she eats bats, but she says bats are like family and eating them would be like eating her sister, which is still iffy because I know she ate her adopted sister and killed her brother with a pickle.  She told me that killing people with a pickle is not the most efficient way to get the job done.  She said it took her at least seven minutes.    

The best thing about living with Gertrude is that there aren’t any bugs in my dorm room, although lately a diet of free-range bugs has not been enough to sustain her.  So during the lean winter months, Gertrude and I sometimes go to the pet store and buy an assortment of bugs and rodents for her to snack on. 

I like running errands with Gertrude.  She’s not very talkative, but it’s nice to have company all the same.  The problem with going out in public places with Gertrude is that she spooks people sometimes.  No one but me can see her because she is a figment of my imagination (she constantly reminds me of this in case I forget) but people always seem uncomfortable and itchy when she is in a room with us, and animals can’t stand her.  It’s as if some primitive part of the brain senses Gertrude and understands she should be feared.  For instance, when we went to the pet store this morning, the animals went nuts and the boy at the counter kept looking at the door and shivering, but that could have been because the door stayed open a little longer than it should have when Gertrude came in behind me.  I once asked Gertrude why she was able to move objects by herself if she was a figment of my imagination, and she told me that my imagination is so good that I can sometimes move things with my mind.  Pretty cool, right?  I once tried to knock over a building with my mind-powers, but Gertrude said it doesn’t work that way.  My subconscious is so smart.

Anyway, I have to go.  Gertrude and I are going to watch a movie together.  She calls it “The Tape to Enslave Humanity.”  She is such a hoot!  She also says I get to wear these nifty clamps on my eyelids to help me keep my eyes open.  Apparently it makes the whole movie-watching experience at least ten times more enjoyable.  I can’t wait!

I Learned How to Insert Pictures All by Myself!!!!

You know what I hate?  When I’m approximately twenty feet away from the door and some polite person decides to hold it for me anyway.  I break into a sprint and gasp out a thank you while he checks his watch and looks over his shoulder a couple hundred times.  Now he’s probably late to a study group session and I’m left feeling responsible for not running fast enough.  Not cool.

So I took this survey online because it said it was going to save the Bengal tigers.  Tigers are cute, right?  I mean, who doesn’t like the color orange?  If you don’t like the color orange, please put your face close to the screen.  The intense pain you feel on your face was me sending you a cyber-slap, a new technique invented by Skor Wadaras designed to take cyber-bullying to a physical level.  But now they want me to take more surveys.  They keep emailing me links and saying that I could save entire species at the click of a button.  As if I have time for that.  I barely have time to delete all the junk they are sending, let alone spare a few seconds to save the planet.  Endangered animals are so selfish. 

I mean, look at this koala.  It’s laughing at me with its eyes, I can tell.  Do we really need a bunch of koalas hanging out on the planet doing whatever it is koalas do?  I mean, what have they ever done for us?  Are they even tasty?

And I’m not sure why they even need protection.  I mean , look at this one:

They’re making babies right now!  Right now, as we speak!  They can even make more than one baby at a time:

So we probably need to worry more about koala overpopulation than anything else. 

But as far as whether or not koalas taste good, I did manage to find an advertisement subtly implying that koalas taste like ham.



Koalas: They are Baisically Pigs that Live in Trees



I’m thinking of getting a couple of sandwiches imported from the local koala farm.  I hear they raise the koalas as their own children until they are old enough to be butchered, roasted, and made into delicious cold cuts.



"This one already smells like bacon" says Lucy McBigglips



Just looking at that picture made me hungry, and all I have to eat is baloney and potato chips.  I'm probably going to make a baloney and potato chip sandwich. 

Delish!

 And I wonder why my plasma has too much fat in it to donate...

Yay! Lists are Fun!

I’ve noticed that a lot of blogs have themes.  Mine doesn’t really have a theme.  Or does it?!?

I’m going to list the topics of my posts and try to find some kind of theme, which I will implement in my blogs in the future.  Here we go!

1)      I like sleeping more than cooking.

2)      Black turtlenecks aren’t just good for vampire attacks.

3)      Happiness isn’t an option for people who won’t eat fast food.

4)      Studying for tests is turning me into a serial killer

5)      If my husband ever eats me, he’d better have the decency to pray over me first.  The cad.

6)      Studying without pretzels is like sliding down a slip n slide without water.

7)      I may or may not be a cyborg.

8)      The intrepid absence of Youtube Robin Hood.

9)      I am in a bad mood, and nothing is ever my fault.

10)   My blog is aptly named after all.

11)   I’m not sad; I’m just bored out of my mind.

12)   Life is good when you are the God of Cheese.

13)   Nobody loves me.  Even my arms keep trying to make a run for it.

14)   Just because my face is zitty, doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.

15)   Color-coded study schedules are made to be broken.

16)   Proposals are not nearly as interesting as my computer manual.

17)   Orange blogs are better than blue ones.

18)   Blogging under the Influence.

19)   Ireland is almost as green as my newfound superpowers.

20)   I know less about facebook than your grandma does.

So far I’m not seeing much consistency.  I like talking about food.  I also like talking about myself.  I think that at least one day of the week should have some kind of theme, though.  Maybe I could blog about Gertrude.  I’d have to do it on the sly; she doesn’t like it when I tell people about her.  Something about breaking the sacred oath of the something-or-other, resulting in some kind of zombie apocalypse.  I’m sure she’s exaggerating…

But Gertrude will have to wait until later, because right now I'm going to bed.

It's Friday. I'm Allowed to Write a Short Blog.

So today I actually went on fache-book for the first time in weeks, a mistake that I will not be making again anytime soon.  On this particular sojourn I discovered that there is a way of sending more private messages to people than posting on their wall, and that I have messages sent as long ago as October of last year.   Talk about a guilt-trip.  I saw messages from people that have been there for so long that I am scared of responding for fear of reminding them that they sent the message in the first place.  I also have no idea how to send messages of my own and it does not seem likely that I will learn anytime in the near future.  (How ironic that I am typing this while Mark What’s-His-Name Zucher-bugger, the founder of facebook, is speaking at BYU right now.  I thought about going, but it turned into a toss-up between listening to one of the most prominent young CEO’s of our time and sleeping in, and sleeping in won hands-down.)

                Anypoop, if any of the aforementioned message senders are reading this, please understand that I’m too stupid to communicate with you by today’s technologically advance means.  Sara is out…peace!

Look Who's Never Sleeping Now, Crime!

Wow.  Okay, I just wrote a paper in two hours.  Not my best idea.  I admit a certain lack of planning was involved.  By the way, if you’re my teacher and you’re reading this, I’m just kidding.  Funny joke, right?  I’m such a kidder…

I decided today was a good day to make a screensaver slideshow of all the places I would never get to see.  At first this was pretty hard because I was including things like the dog pound in Philadelphia and the inside of a men’s bathroom in Kentucky, but after narrowing my search field significantly, I started to make some real progress. 

I started with pictures of Ireland.  Heads up, guys, Ireland’s green.  Really green.  Like, think of the greenest thing you’ve ever seen (I thought of my brother’s face after riding a rollercoaster) and times that by a bazillion.  (By the way, did you know that bazillion is an accepted word, but bajillion isn’t?  I know because my spell checker told me so.)  I would post a picture of Ireland, but I am technologically retarded.  You’ll just have to make do with the following description:

There’s a green tree.  Also green grass.  Also?  Green moss on the rocks.  And behind one of the rocks is something that might be a leprechaun or a leprechaun disguised as another tree.    And if the camera had been in focus, the sky would probably be green, too, and not that pasty, unnatural shade of blue.  Everyone knows that all of Ireland is green, even the sky.

The problem with travel is that it costs money.  Real money, not the kind I almost got arrested for trying to use at the purple pantyhose emporium.  I thought about getting a second job besides the one I have at Plato’s Closet, but then I got an even better idea.  Are you standing up?  Because you might want to sit down for this one.  (Also, if you regularly stand up while you surf the internet, you have serious problems, my friend.  Remind me to explain the concept of chairs to you sometime.) 

My idea is this: I will become a superhero (cue thunderclap).  My plan has three simple steps:

Step one: Get some kind of incredible power.

Step two: Use that power to fight crime on a semi-regular basis.

Step three: Make a fortune from the action figures and t-shirts.

Step two is easy, like falling off a log.  Step three is even easier and is more like falling off a pillow onto a softer, more comfortable pillow.  Step one might be a little trickier.  As far as I know, I don’t have any superpowers: except for the ability to overuse colons.  But I don’t think that would make a good action figure, and the t-shirt would be a disaster.  Because isn’t a colon also some kind of disease or tumor?  So if the t-shirt said “Colons are the best!” it could create some confusion. 

I know what power I would have if I could choose any power in the world.  I would choose the ability to make people reeeally sleepy at will.  That would be an awesome power.  Think about it!  If someone’s robbing a bank or something, all I would have to do is will them to get really tired and even if they didn’t fall asleep they would still be all stupid and stumble-y like a herd of drunken horses.  I could have a cool name like “Sleepinator Sara” and a cool catch phrase like “look who’s never sleeping now, crime!”  You know, because crime never sleeps.  It’s funny.  Really. 

But I have no idea how to get this particular superpower.  Bite from a radioactive sloth?  Radioactive Tylenol PM?  But wouldn’t those things just make me sleepy?  I’ll have to do some research on the principles of comic book radioactivity…

Sheesh, becoming a superhero is starting to get just as hard as getting a second job.  Meh, whatever.  I’m going to go eat some cheese.

This is What Happens When I Blog Past My Bedtime

Today I saw him again.  You know, him.  HIM.  Ri-i-i-ight.  And I was definitely going to say “hi” this time.  Really.  I did alright a couple days ago!  Sure, I sounded like a strangled fish, but at least I managed to articulate actual words.  But when I saw him today while I was walking to class, we were separated by this huge group of people.  A huge group, like almost five people.  And what must be understood is that every time I see this guy, I can’t breathe, and my skin goes cold, and my hands start shaking (I figure I either have walking pneumonia again or I'm crushing hard).  So given the circumstances, it’s hardly a surprise that I have trouble speaking to him, let alone yelling to him across a fearsome fivesome. 

The sad truth is if this guy even remembers I exist, he probably thinks I’m a total spaz with a lung condition.  Every time I talk to him I get nervous, which ratchets up my spaziness, which makes me even more nervous.  It’s a vicious cycle of spaz.  I also feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach every time I gaze on his all-encompassing gloriousness (that’s a real word, by the way.  Look it up) complete with Heath Ledger smile, so I kind of wheeze when I talk. 

I just love him.  You know, whatever.  It’s fine.

But who would want to date a spaz-a-tron or a magnificent wheeze?  No one, that’s who.  At least I know what my name will be if I ever become a super-hero: The Magnificent Wheezing Spaz-a-Tron.  Or maybe I should stick with magnificent wheeze.  It’s snappier, yes?  I’ll be like batman, except when I talk it won’t sound like I’m gargling marbles.  (zing!)

Eh, love’s overrated anyway.  Besides, there’s so many other wonderful things to love in this world.  Disneyland, for example.  The other day I wrote a rap about Disneyland.  It’s pretty neat.  I’d post it, but it’s still a working progress.  It’s going to get better…

I also love cheese.  Today I went grocery shopping and I bought string cheese, macaroni and cheese, cottage cheese, and a can of easy cheese.  I wish I was joking.

And now I am starting to ramble.  It is time to kill the beast before it gains control of the master.  And so my friends, adieu.

(P. S. – This is for you, Brianna!  Love you!)