Saturday, August 23, 2014

I Seriously Almost Died from a Heart Attack today (Okay, not really, but it felt like it...) because video games

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Oh my goodness! So this blog post, for some reason, took me forever to write! And I had a whole bunch of extra: "PUBLISH THESE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY" posts, but I really don't know what happened today or yesterday or the day before that, but seriously, I guess I was completely out of it? Or maybe the stresses of preparing to go back to college and actually do work has gotten to my brain and shut it off completely? I don't know :o

Anyways, enough with my problems and back to the scheduled blog post ;) :

Boy, let me tell you that when my brothers and I get together to play video games, it becomes a serious event!

Don't believe me? Why don't you check out this attempted play-through that my brothers and I did for my very good friend XHH, or the creator/developer of the most infamous game ever to be played on a computer ever: Boredom.

(Here's the trailer, just in case you didn't want to see my extremely long and unsyncronized, poor failed attempt at being a commentator while one of my brothers actually played the game... And you're welcome XHH for the surprise advertising!)

Continuing on...

I seriously almost died from a heart attack (or something that felt like one) today (actually two days ago), because my youngest brother kept losing the final boss of Sonic Unleashed (for the Wii) and had to keep restarting right at the point where he was almost finished because he couldn't follow simple directions...

(Edited Photos | Original Source 1 | 2)

I don't understand why, I mean my other brother and I were literally yelling the directions that he had go to in order to beat the boss, but I guess he's directionally challenged it's just too much pressure.

Why do video games (and I guess you could include the consoles they're played on) cause sooo many problems?

Not just the obvious ones like when people are mentally influenced by the characters in video games or the health risks that come with them, but when people just up and rage quit!

Does the Rage Guy mean "Fuuuuuu!" Or "F. U."?

Which usually involves: (from what I've witnessed my brothers do when they're stumped on a level or someplace)
  • Yelling random, incoherent phrases at the game screen
  • The inability to hold the controller/portable game in your hands
  • The urge/actual movement to throw (enter game console's name here) at a TV screen/anything that can shatter/anything that moves
  • Uncontrollable sweating
  • Clenched teeth and/or butt cheeks
  • Having strained conversations with the character you're playing as (as if the character can actually listen to you lol)
  • Eyes practically bulging out of your head
  • And looking like an American football referee/Jackie Chan
  • (As an added bonus, if you start bleeding spontaneously for any reason while doing any of these things then you might have Ebola)
    JK... You probably don't have Ebola... maybe hemophilia?
I don't remember where exactly I was going with this post, (which is probably why it's soo late) but I guess I was going to rant about the safety and logic of video games, but I just don't feel like it...

Instead I'll give you list of:

 "Stuff Done in Video Games that Would Definitely be Useful in Real Life"

Double Jumping

Do you know how easy it would've been to actually be able to do the long jump in gym class, if I knew how to do this?

Breaking Jars

You can't get into trouble for this because everyone knows that there's always something special in a jar that's just inconspicuously lying around.

Breaking into people's houses

People actually do this, so I guess they were inspired by video games?

Automatically knowing how to swim

The only reason why this would be useful is because I don't know how to swim.

Yelling stuff at the top of your lungs while running

Because yelling stuff at the top of your lungs while running is normal and attractive.


I think that this would be an excellent idea, because if you were in the middle of a boring class or just didn't feel like doing anything, you could just pause and take a breather before doing what you were doing before. Best idea ever. Then again, maybe not?

Having the ability to fight

There would be less Daphne's in the world.

Bottomless backpack/pockets

You ever wonder how these video game characters could carry so much stuff, and still look the same? If I carried that much stuff in my pockets, I'd probably look like an overweight Canadian Mountie.

Extra lives

If this was put to use in real life, I feel as if it would be like the plot of In Time. Interesting...

The only thing  I could say that could condone this type of behavior would be that desperate times call for desperate measures. Get rich and suffer a concussion or stay structurally sound and broke. Your call.

NOTE: Okay, so since I'll be starting school in 2 days, I'm probably going to posting less frequently *sobbing* But, you'll wait for me right? Don't leave guys, I'll try to post stuff as frequently as possible!


P.P.S: The Extra H in XHH stands for Happy (Don't tell him I told you :o )

P.P.P.S: Oh yeah, and my brother, just in case you were wondering, did beat the game, the day after I wrote this (or yesterday).

P.P.P.P.S: Oh! And just in case you didn't see (or you just blatantly ignored) the first phrase at the top, follow me on bloglovin!

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Hey! I'm A Unicorn! So, I Definitely Deserve this Shirt

I think I've already mentioned a bunch of times that I'm a unicorn and BEHOLD! A shirt that speaks to me:

I've ALWAYS been a unicorn...

I found this wonderful shirt from Rad while scrolling on my newsfeed on Facebook. And you can look at all of their awesome shirts on their Facebook page or just directly on their website. I definitely plan on buying this shirt when I get some money. :D

Have I ever told about the story of how I became a unicorn? Well, I guess now's a good time as any to tell you guys. Let me take a minute, just sit right there and let me tell you about how I became the princess of a unicorn. (Sorry, I almost got carried away...)

Seriously, so this is how I became a unicorn:

In college (or in mine at least) the grades go from A to F,(there's also WP and WF, Withdrawn Passing and Withdrawn failing respectively, but those grades are for quitters!! At least if someone got an F, it shows others that you actually tried) but in between all the grades there is a plus and a minus version of that grade too (ex. B+, B, B- ). The only grade that that doesn't exist for is for the A's (and the F's, but that's common knowledge, no?). Meaning, that the highest grade that you can have is an A. 

There is no such thing as an A+ ( I guess getting a B plus is way better than just getting an A? Because pluses make everything better? #CollegeLogic?).

I personally think that A and A- must be lonely without an A+ by their side...

Pluses and Minuses belong together!
But, one day I was sitting in my English class (which in my opinion, is one of my favorite classes so far in College) and my professor was passing back the grades to a research paper that I had literally put my blood, sweat, and tears into in order to craft a masterpiece that was supposed to be 6 pages at minimum and 8 at maximum, but turned into a 13-paged monster.

That's okay, because as a writer you can never have too much to say about a subject without it sounding redundant (which it didn't, just in case you were wondering). 

When I got my paper back, I was delightfully surprised (and internally ecstatic) when I found out that I had gotten an A+ on my paper, written along with a whole paragraph of positive commentary from my professor! At that moment, I felt as if that if I were to open the window in my classroom and jump out of it, I would definitely be able to fly into outer space instead of falling flat on my face, turning into a human pancake.

Then I remembered that my classroom was on the 2nd floor of the building and it was a pretty tall building, so reality told me to stay in my seat and to contain my excitement.

(Edited Photo | Original Source)

When I got out of class, I ran to find my friends to tell them the awesome news. They first called me an over-achiever for writing way more than the allotted amount of pages that I was supposed to write, but as soon as they saw the A+, they all looked at me like I was some kind of mythical creature. 

Then one of my friends said: "Wow. This means that you're a unicorn! Because if you were a human being, you would've gotten an A like the rest of us...over-achiever."

And that's how I became a Unicorn!

Yay! I is a unicorn!

Hey look at that! A double post? Unicorns and T-shirts? Cool!! 

P.S: Did you notice anything different about my blog today? No? How 'bout now? /hihi

Yup! That's right! I have officially put emoticons on my blog! Thanks to Cool Stuff and Snow Cone for showing me how! If you have a blog then you'll know how to too after looking at those links. It's really easy, but just to be safe, be sure to back up your template before making any changes to your HTML code.

Better safe than sorry... /shock /blur

P.P.S: I also found this site full of Onion Head Emoticons if you want to use these in the comments, or on your own blog, or where ever you can use these wonderfully cute things!
Go Crazy!


(Edited Photo | Original Source)

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

School's Starting Soon? Not in my mind.

All of my friends are gumming up my Facebook page with sentiments of excitement at going back to their respective campuses or (for the recent graduates from High School) going to their new home for the next 4 years. It's nice and all and I'm genuinely excited for those people since they're excited, but seriously please stop.
I'm not excited.

Look at this post that I snatched off of one of my friend's Facebook pages along with my response:

Who would be excited about leaving the warmth of their bed every morning just to go to a place where you might as well go back to sleep because waking up to listen to a lecture has the same effect as Ambien and Xanax being taken together. That's dangerous, especially after you realize that class is over and you can't even get up properly to move on to your next class without tripping on the overhead projector cord.

(I'm not saying that I know this from experience or anything...)

I'm even getting emails from my school all about how they're anticipating everyone's return to school for a "fun and productive year!" Let me stop you right there "school". You very well know how much you would rather be on vacation instead of teaching a room full of ignorant semi-adults, that's why we have so many of them throughout the school year. Uh-huh... I see what you're doing school... I'm soo onto you...

I've got my eye on you...
Now my mom's adding to the mix too. Constantly reminding me that school, for me, starts next week and that I should've been studying my past notes/paging through my new textbooks for the semester/going to sleep earlier. Even though, yes, these tidbits of advice from my mother are quite practical, let me tell you that nothing is going to keep me from living up my last days of vacation time right up until the end. And by living it up, I mean sitting in front of my laptop and either writing a future blog post, watching a Japanese Anime/ Korean Drama/random movies/random YouTube videos, listening to music, reading my whole pile of library books, or sleeping way over the recommended amount of hours recommended by doctors.

Otherwise, in spite of all of my efforts at attempting to make my summer (feel) longer, I realize that school will start soon, inevitably.

My solution: Right now I'm pretending that we're currently in the month of July. I've got one more month of vacation! In my mind...

And now... a video explaining why school sucks!

Monday, August 18, 2014

I did it! I did it! Hooray!

Based off of this title, I bet you're dying to know what I did, right? Well, keep reading! Duh.

If you didn't get to read the end of yesterday's post then I'll get you up to speed.

Yesterday I said that I was going to make a fan page on Facebook for all my "fans"

Oh yeah? Well I have half as many fans as Ryan Higa does! As you can see he only has four... I'll catch up to him in no time!
Annnnd... I did it! Yay! It was way simpler than I thought it was going to be and that is thanks to this article that I read all about how to go about making a fan page for your blog on Facebook. I was going to make a tutorial much like my tutorial about jump breaks, the Debbie way, but then I thought better of it because I was being lazy that would be kind of counter-productive and so on and besides, there's already a whole wealth of information on fan pages on the World Wide Web. So Google it!

Anyway, so after I made my fan page, (which I'm really proud of even though it's empty) I decided to make a like box. (Which if you have your own blog, you can find the link to putting your own like box on your own page here

It took me a while to figure out how to put the box on my blog, because of my limited knowledge of HTML, so I looked at this article and after it finally worked, let's just say I felt kind of like Dora the Explorer (I did it!! Woooooo!!) I've never felt so excited in my life (besides the time that I had gotten to ride in the front of Kingda Ka, but that's a story for another time ;D )

So, now my fan page is all set up and the like box/link to my fan page is going to located safely to the right of my page, unless I decide to change the layout of my blog in the future (who knows?). 

Soooo, all I can say now is just to check out my Facebook page! Because there I'll be posting stuff that doesn't need a whole blog post dedicated to it and it will act as a way to remind you guys (my fans) that I published new content and it will show up automatically on your news feed! Isn't that great??? 'Merica at its best!! (To other countries, who happen to not be America, I just made your lives easier... No need to thank me, but I do appreciate it)
(Note: edited picture. Source)

I did all the work for you so all you have to do is just show up!

Also don't forget that you can also be my follower on the blog itself (privately or publicly... either way I'm gonna know anyway) or just like the fan page or you can do both! 

You have a choice people! 

Make one!

 Or do nothing... that's good too. 

That is also a choice, but it just wouldn't benefit me at all.

 Just keep that in the back of your mind and click! That's all you have to do! Please? Thanks. 

I love my readers and hopefully, you will reveal yourselves to me very soon muhahahahaha! (a.k.a: not my creepy laugh)

Keep reading and keep it classy everyone! Remember how much my brain cells are important to me! (Without them I might die or worse! I'll get kicked out of college!! Nooooo...) So, I need moar brain cells!

NOTE: Also if you have any more ideas that I could do in order to promote my blog or just to make the content more worthwhile, you can message me on my fan page and as soon as I get a follower, I'll open up my email so you can also shoot me some emails at my personal email account (think of this as the unlockable portion of a video game!) or you could just comment on my blog! Please? Don't be shy! I live for comments! Opininions? Constructive criticisms? Straight out bashing? 

(Note: edited image. Source)

NOTE 2: Also if you've notice that I've posting these posts pretty late, I'm sorry. I notice that the more I post these late, the more nobody reads them! So, I'll try to post earlier from now on, but sometimes life just doesn't let you that, but that just means more interesting blog posts! So bear with me please and keep reading!

NOTE 3: I just wanted to add that the placement of my like box forces the reader to scroll down so I can see whether or not people actually read the post and then they like it because of that. Not, just because they just see a like box and then they mindlessly like the box and then they turn into obnoxious monsters making me lose someone who I thought in my heart was a true follower? *sniff* Yep, so there's my logic for my like box placement. Please don't like it just for the sake of liking it, liking my blog means that you are truly interested in my stories and the way that my brain functions! If that's your reasoning too (or close to it, at least) then like away!

 I like people who like my like box

Saturday, August 16, 2014

ATMs: More Than Meets the Eye.

Conversation that I had with my brothers in the parking lot of a supermarket: (I'm going to refer to my brothers as Thing 1 and Thing 2 because that's what they are...things. Thing 2 is my youngest brother and Thing 1 is younger than Thing 2)

Thing 2: Hey Debbie, does ATM stand for Access Transformer Machine?

Thing 1: No you idiot, it stands for Access To Money. People need to access their money, not wait for machine to transform. What do you think it is Optimus Prime?

Me: Both very good points, but you're both wrong.

Thing 2: Then... Does it mean Access. Transaction. Money? (He literally put awkward pauses between these words, hence the periods.)

Thing 1: Why?

Thing 2: The people need to access the money, and then a transaction* is made and then the machine spits out the money, right?

Me: True. But that's still not what ATM stands for. It stands for Automatic Teller Machine.

Thing 2: Why?

Me: Because there are bank tellers at the bank and an ATM just happens to be a teller without actually going to the bank.

Thing 2: I like my idea better. It makes more sense.

Thing 1: You never make sense.

Thing 2: You never make even more sense.

Thing 1: Exactly.

*My brother had a very difficult time pronouncing the word transaction, which he learned from our dad. It sounded more like "tran-zack-shun" or "trainz-action" than transaction

Here are some things that I thought that ATM stood for when I was younger:
  • A Ton (of) Money (The of was silent.)
  • A misspelling of the word ATOM (Why was it missing the "O"?)
  • A Time Machine (that you take money out of? Close enough.)

What did you think ATM stood for at some point in your life?

Hey, while we're on the topic of ATM's why don't I also include this gif of the Hulk trying to also figure out what an ATM is.

Was that the spark of time travel? I think so, look he even got his money back!

NOTE: I'm thinking of putting up a fan page on Facebook for all of my (currently non-existent) fans! Do you think it's a good idea? With my limited knowledge of HTML, I'll try and put a link to the page on the side of my blog! So comment and like my fan page guys! And join my blog! I need more brain cells! And friends...

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

What Do You Do When a Genie is Set Free?

What do you do when a genie is set free?
I don't know, rent an RV?
Have a dance party?
Or recite poetry?
Perform the Heimlich after having tea?
Continue to be called crazy?
Stay happy?

What do you do when someone who's been a part of all our lives,
Seemingly since the beginning of time,
Suddenly dies?
Do you cry?
To Neverland, do you fly?
Or would you rather just eat spinach through your pipe?

Do you just run for president,
Make jokes at another's expense,
Or do you just sit down and play a game,
Knowing that nothing will ever be the same?

I didn't want to write a post following the current congestion of voices on social media and elsewhere on the untimely passing of undeniably the funniest man in the world, Robin Williams. But after reading this post by Pete Davison on the topic of depression, I just wanted to contribute by writing a little poem. Hope you like it.

**Hopefully you can identify with all of the film allusions.**

Monday, August 11, 2014

Why You Should Never Go Fishing with Santa Claus

One day, my dad decides that we should all (excluding my mother because she's like a cat) go fishing with his buddy Santa, because it would be both a memory-forming and bond-forming experience (his words).

So, we meet Santa, who insists on being called "Santa" because of his prominent features being a really big belly, and a white beard and as a bonus, he also liked giving us (my siblings and me) gifts. I wonder what people called him when he was younger, "Kris?"

But to me, instead of a jolly old nice guy who gives gifts, I think of "Santa" as a freeloading stinky old prospector who happens to be allergic to soap and water and also happens to give gifts. (I mean his favorite foods are under cooked chicken wings and hard-boiled eggs. Who wouldn't be stinky after that? He also loves "cutting the cheese." Our windows were rolled down the whole time that day.)

Cheery vs. Creepy
Who looks friendlier to you? 
(Source 1 | 2)

We meet Santa at his job, and he proceeds to take his stuff (fishing rods, bait, a cooler with sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, under cooked chicken wings, lawn chair, etc.) out of his car and load it into our van. He then sits in the passenger seat next to my dad and my dad introduces all of us to Santa. As soon as my dad mentions my name, Santa immediately starts staring at me.

In my head I was thinking that perhaps that was normal for someone that I had never met before, but by the time I finished that thought he was still staring at me and I was like, okay... definitely not normal. I felt like I was being put through a scanner. He looked me over up and down several times, and at some point I just crossed my arms over my chest because I was fully convinced that he had some kind of X-ray vision.

Santa: "Your dad here tells me that you love reading books!"

Me: "Yes sir. I do."

Santa: "Well, so do I! I might lend you some books the next time I see you." *Proceeds to wink and flash me a toothy smile with misshapen and missing teeth*

Me: "Ah... Yes, that'll be nice." *Can't maintain eye contact, because it feels as if his eyes are burning into my soul*

Santa: "I also heard you're doing very well in school! Straight A's I assume?"

Me: "Uh... No sir, I always have one B, sir."

Santa: *Hearty Laughter ensues*

Santa: "Well, keep up the good work! I bet with those grades you'll get into a very respectable college!

Me: "Yes sir, I'm trying my best."

Santa: "Please girl, call me Santa!"

Me: "... Okay Santa, sir."

*Awkward Silence*

Santa: "You're very beautiful you know that?"

Crustyoldmansaywhat? First we were talking about books and my grades and now... Whaaaat? I gave him a confused look, but I guess he took that look as a cue to clarify what he had said.

Santa: "Beauty and Smarts go well together. You realize that right?"

How was I supposed to answer that question?

I wasn't feeling really beautiful at the moment, not only because I was wearing really baggy clothing (which is what I usually wear, mind you, but not to be attractive), but since we were going fishing for the first time, we were warned (by Santa, through my dad) not to wear any "perfume-y stuff," so we wouldn't be an easy target for bugs.

So we skipped putting on any deodorant (because all we had was perfumed deodorant) and we slathered ourselves in Vaseline (because we also only had scented lotion) and then when we got to the car, before picking up Santa, we sprayed ourselves down in about 3 coats of bug spray (because Santa said that we'll need it).

So, instead of feeling beautiful, I felt sweaty, slimy, and sticky. The way he phased his questions didn't make me feel good inside either.

I'm sorry, were you trying to be attractive?
I felt as if I had two choices at that moment. Either A) Play dumb or B) Agree with him (there was also a plan C, but that wouldn't have been polite.) I decided to go with plan A.

Me: "Um... No. I didn't realize."

Santa: "Well, I think anyone would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend, someone as nice and innocent looking as you."

I could feel my chest tightening as he resumed looking me over and smiling. I kept a poker face, but on the inside I was screaming : "Hey! Dad! Don't you see or at least hear what your friend is doing? Help me out here gosh darn it!!" But I guess that would be asking of too much of my father, because my dad can't multitask for his life and he was also driving. So, I mustered up my pride and decided that from now on, I would just play along.

Dramatization of my Poker face vs. Santa's flirting skills.
He looks cute, right? Now imagine the same smirk on the face of a not-so-cute 60-ish year old man.
Me: "Ahh... Thank you."

Santa: "Have you ever had a boyfriend? If you don't mind me asking?"

My brain was on fire at this point and now I was at risk of breaking my well-maintained poker face, while trying to signal my father with my eyes through the rear-view mirror. This was becoming dangerous territory. Were we even close to the fishing spot? Was my dad doing this on purpose?

Me: "No. No, I've never had a boyfriend."

Santa: "Aww... What a shame. Those boys just don't know what they're missing..."

This time he looks me over once, but really slowly.

It was disgusting.

I'm pretty sure that I felt something sour going up my throat, but that also could've been my dignity.

My dad then got his attention with the subject of religion and he finally stopped looking at me. I breathed a sigh of relief, but not without caution because his smell of "cheese" was still invading the car.

A while later, we finally arrived at the fishing spot. My dad was getting the stuff out of the trunk and after the rest of us took some stuff from the trunk, Santa suggested that my siblings and I would go on ahead to find a spot with him, while leaving my dad behind to get the rest of the stuff. My dad agreed and we walked down the hill to the fishing spot.

Santa walked closely behind me, while my brothers barreled down the hill. When we got there, for some reason I was relieved to see that there were other people around besides us. Santa, on the other hand, didn't look pleased at all.

When we were all set up at our spot, Santa distributed our fishing rods, taking especial care with mine, giving it to me like a newborn child instead of throwing the rod, like he did to my brothers and my dad. He showed everyone the techniques of how to fish and eventually, we were reeling in the fishes. Except for my brothers. One of them managed to hook my dad on his shirt and the other one managed to first hook a tree and then on his second try, hook Santa's shorts. And Dad and Santa were standing behind the boys.

 As punishment, Santa gave my brothers wedgies and they, at one point, got so many wedgies that their undies could've wrapped onto their heads. (My brothers had to throw those undies away when we got home because the waistband was out.)

My brothers didn't think it was fair and when they asked why I never got a wedgie when I messed up (which happened only once, because I accidentally hooked onto someone's canoe), Santa smacked the backs of my brother's heads before immediately staring at me at the mention of my name and said: "It's because, unlike you, she's a lady."

Then at that point, because my brothers had reminded Santa of my existence, he began to walk over in my direction.

Santa: "So, how's it going?"

In my attempt to ignore him, I just pretended that I was so engrossed in my fishing that I couldn't hear him. But then I caught a fish. And as soon as I reeled it in, he took this opportunity to continue to attempt making small talk. I responded to his attempts with only nods and smiles hoping that if I said nothing he'd go away . That didn't work. Instead he kept talking and giving me compliments, all while he took forever to help me with baiting my hook.

Santa: "You know, now that I'm looking at you, if I was only a couple years younger, I would've definitely been your boyfriend."

Ooooookay, now the scale of creepy has officially reached it's maximum.
Actually, based off of this scale, the creepiness was only "Guarded." Huh. Who knew? 

Regardless of scales, that statement, even though I think it was meant as a compliment, was still pretty creepy. In response, I acted as if my dad was calling me and I excused myself before going over and telling my dad everything that had transpired. He didn't seem too bothered by my story.

Dad: "Oh yeah? That's what he said, huh? Well, I guess that means that he likes you."

Whaaaaaaat? That's all you have to say Dad?!

 I would like to think that my dad is the type of person to protect his children from all kinds of dangers, including creepers, but in this case my dad was completely oblivious to any problem with his 60-something year old friend constantly expressing the desire to go out with his 15 year old daughter. 

Needless to say, my dad did absolutely nothing and I certainly didn't have the courage to confront the creepiness, so I just improvised. I alternated my spots between my brothers and my dad and that seemed to work, because for the rest of the day he left me alone and focused more harassing my little brothers.

At the end of the day, we left and everyone just stayed in their corners. My dad and Santa resuming their discussion on politics and my brothers and I playing video games. 

We got home, and I told everything that had happened to my mom, who reacted exactly as I thought she would've as a mother (who later complained out of outrage to my father, and even later eventually found humor out of the whole situation). Months passed by and the mention of Santa disappeared. 

Until, December came. Something had come for me in the mail. A Barnes and Noble gift card, with an attached note that said: "Happy reading to the always lovely Debbie. From Santa."

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Quote of the Day! (First One)

Welcome to the my first "Quote of the Day" post! (I think it's kind of misleading because I'm probably not going to post a quote daily, but just something that I found on some given day... Really complicated shizz, I know and I'm sorry!!!)

These quotes are going to be stuff that see or hear from anywhere! T.V., the Internet, radio, books, I don't know I guess billboards too?

So, anyway, without further ado here's the first quote:

-La Toya Jackson
From Life with La Toya - Season 2 Episode 10

(I linked the full episode with the quote, but if you just want to watch the summarized version, because you feel as if you have a life besides spending all your time on your computer, then watch this.)

I first must give La Toya props for creating a quote that not only rhymes, but also creates controversy. Let me just say though, that the caterer's reaction right after is just priceless!! I mean does she just hate foods that are white? Like salad with "white" cheese? Or is she just saying that salad itself is a food that only "white" people eat? Because if you watch the rest of the episode she refuses to eat just about everything at the dinner party. I guess she might as well stick to eating some fried chicken, because that's definitely not "white" food (unless you consider the white meat). 

This could be taken many ways, which is the reason why it is the Quote of the Day.

What's your take? Do you want to suggest to me a future quote of the day? (Sure! That would make my life a whole lot easier.)

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

We're All Probably Going to Die from Ebola.

I'm kidding of course.

 I have full confidence that the current situation with the Ebola Outbreak in West Africa will be taken care of even though at the moment we could all wish for the best.

 But, even with that confidence, I am genuinely scared of how an outbreak can affect not only the affected countries, but also the unaffected countries like the United States.

I was afraid, but also somewhat relieved that the outbreak had started a world over in Africa, instead of here in the U.S. But, right now there are two confirmed Americans who have been stricken with the virus and they have been sent back here for treatment. I believe that if there is any place for someone to be treated for Ebola, quickly and safely, it would here in the United States.

However, at the same time, I have justified fear especially after watching a movie called Outbreak which dealt with a similar (fictitious yet) highly infectious disease (I'm not going to link the trailer, because I dislike the movie in general... Alright, so I agree that it is a "great" movie, but I just don't like watching scary things. It's a disaster movie incorporated with biological terrorism for goodness sake!!).

Sometimes, even though Health Care Professionals do their utmost to keep a virus quarantined, viruses just don't like to stay in one place because they enjoy being friendly with strangers (which also reminds me of the ending scene of Rise of the Planet of the Apes... I should probably stop watching Action/Sci-Fi movies).

Or, like in the movie Outbreak, the disease could be transferred by an extremely-adorable-auto-immune-disease-carrying-monkey and it could just go around biting everyone (except for equally cute little girls).

Experts say that people should not be fearful of getting infected in the United States, because in order for Ebola to be spread you would need to have constant and close contact with someone who is infected. So, the only people who are really at risk are the Health Care Professionals who are helping those two Americans, but they have protection, like the article I linked above states, so they should be fine.

My fear is just some unwarranted side-effect from watching too many unintentionally scary movies in the dark (because everything is just that much scarier in the dark). So, I hope that this outbreak passes over quickly and the current unimaginable loss of life will stop, but that of course is easier said than done.

But, let it just be known that Allie Brosh probably would've had a field day with the news of this Ebola Outbreak (I mean she mentions it at least three times on her blog).

What do you think? What is your take on this issue, I don't mind comments or reactions!

Monday, August 4, 2014

The Reason Why I Never Wear Makeup

Whenever my friends ask me why I don't wear makeup, I almost always answer:

 "Guys don't wear makeup, so why should I?"

 or "What if my face is itchy and I can't scratch it because I don't want to mess up my makeup?"

 or "Don't you always complain about how long it takes you to put it on in the morning?"

 or "No guys go around complimenting girls on their makeup anyway (to my knowledge), so what's the point?"

(I find that answering a question with a question shuts people up quite effectively.)

But the real reasoning behind why I choose not to wear makeup is so much more deeper than that. Don't get me wrong, when I was younger I really, really, really wanted to wear makeup. Watching my mommy putting on her makeup was like witnessing a ritual that transformed her into an awesome goddess and I couldn't wait to do the same.

But some signs told me to do otherwise...

When I was six years old, I was made a flower girl at a friend's wedding. It was in the middle of summer and to make myself look nice, the wedding's "makeup artist" (a.k.a one of the bride's cousins) put hair extensions, an excessive amount of makeup foundation, eye shadow, and lip gloss. (The makeup artist herself had a healthy coating of makeup and blush which made her look more like a blushing carrot if anything else.)  Since it was my first time putting on so much makeup at once, my face felt unnatural and I had an uncontrollable urge to touch my face. The makeup artist instructed me not to touch my face throughout the duration of the entire wedding and I thought that I could at least comply with those instructions.

 I had spent nearly the entire day indoors in an air-conditioned hall, so it wasn't that bad, until I went outside to wait for the limousine to take the wedding party to the reception. The limo was running late and it was very hot outside. Naturally, extremely hot temperatures automatically meant that makeup wasn't obligated to stay on my face. My face felt really wet and sticky and itchy, and by the time limo arrived I didn't notice that my makeup had dripped onto my dress.

Upon immediately going from the really hot outdoors to the air-conditioned limo, my face felt disgusting and itchy. And then without thinking, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I felt relieved, but also terrified at what my mother would say when she saw my long, white gloves and dress covered in brown foundation.

Needless to say, I haven't been involved in any weddings ever since (I don't believe that's the absolute reason, but that could've been a factor).

One day I went out with my parents to Macy's to go and pick up some beauty products for my mother. I really liked going there because of all the free samples that the sales receptionists always gave to me. Usually it was just a sample of perfume or lip gloss, but that time I felt that I had hit the jackpot (I was a pretty simple child back then) because they were giving away sample makeup "cards", complete with instructions on how to put on the makeup.

I took one and I immediately got to work, putting on the makeup while reading the instructions. They were really specific, and I didn't understand what all the words meant, so it took me a while to put everything on, but at the same time I assumed that since there were instructions as to where to apply everything, I didn't need a mirror.

Let's just say that, I probably wasn't the brightest bulb in the shack...

When I had finished, I walked around the entire store and I kept getting compliments about how beautiful I looked. Eventually my parents called for me near the exit and I left the store. We were all about to go into the car, when my daddy decided to open the door for me. He then grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around to face towards him.

He studied my face like he was reading a book.

Dad: "Hmm... You have on makeup I see. Where did you get it?"

Me: "One of the sales people gave it to me. They were handing it out."

My mom and dad stared intently at my face for a few minutes before looking at each other and then right back at me again.

Dad: You did that all by yourself?

Me: Yes! I made sure to follow all of the instructions on the card the person gave to me.

Dad: "Well, you sure did a great job. You know I almost confused you for a clown? You'd be a definite shoe-in for the Ringling Brothers!"

After that, my parents couldn't contain their laughter. They laughed so hard that other people who happened to be walking through the parking lot kept staring in their direction with confused faces, as if they were saying: "who let a pack of hyenas loose in Jersey?"

I immediately looked at myself in the side view mirror and I saw my mistake. I looked horrendous.

My blush was too high on my cheeks. I put on too much eye shadow. There was a whole bunch of other things wrong with my face, but I couldn't remember what they were specifically because I had already thrown away the makeup card.

"Whoever thought that I looked beautiful with this on my face clearly needs their eyes checked!!," I thought to myself.

Hookers probably looked even more presentable than I did that day.

On the ride home, my mommy consoled me and told me that she would one day teach me how to put on my own makeup properly, but I vowed that I would never, ever wear makeup again.

A couple years later, I was at one of my best friend's house along with her cousin (who I'm going to call Periwinkle, just because her actual name is as colorful as that). My bestie had just gotten a new makeup kit and she wanted to show it to me. It was impressive with all of its compartments and brushes and pads and its vast array of colors and products. Little did I know that I was going to be her guinea pig to test out her kit. Her cousin, Periwinkle, pinned me down onto my friend's bed, while she decorated my face.
To some people this might seem like a dream come true, but to me it's a recurring nightmare...

By the time she was finished, my face was a dark shade of magenta, I had green kitty cat whiskers, sky blue eye shadow, brown spots all over my face, and the taste of powder in my mouth.

When my mom came to pick me up, she couldn't believe that I had actually let my bestie "mess up my face" like that. What she didn't understand was that I didn't let anyone do anything. I was forced against my will!!

After getting home and washing off my face, (with difficulty, because the whiskers didn't want to come off) I vowed once again that I would never, ever, ever, ever, put makeup on ever again.

Of course since then, even though I said that I'd never put on makeup again, I kept trying (I'm very persistent). As if putting on even more makeup would offset the bad things that already happened to me.

Like getting mascara in my eye because I was rushing to put it on before my mother caught me using her mascara, or almost poking my eye out when I was attempting to use my mother's eyeliner.

Eventually, I stopped when my bestie (the same one who decorated my face like a "cat-like Christmas tree") told me that I didn't even need makeup because I looked too old with it on. Ever since then, I've never put on excessive amounts of makeup (unless my mom tackles me to the ground and forces me to put it on). I realized that I don't need makeup to make me feel beautiful or to make me automatically accepted into the clique of  "girls who put on makeup." I'm beautiful and I don't need creams/powders/glosses to emphasize or prove otherwise. (Until you see my face! Haha!)

Let's see if I can say the same thing 10 years from now.

NOTE: Sorry!! I didn't post this sooner because I was trying to find a picture of myself in my flower girl dress covered in brown makeup and I guess as soon as my house heard that I was looking for the picture, it immediately decided to hide all known traces of those photos. I then asked my mom where the picture was and instead of telling me where it was, she suggested that I draw a picture instead.

So... Here's my cartooned version what probably happened at that wedding when I was six:

I am Picasso. You're welcome.

I'll let you know when I find the actual picture (I bet my house and my mother are in cahoots with each other).

(If you can't read what my mini-strip says, you can click on the picture... Don't worry it won't hurt my feelings.)

*Bonus Panel*

Just Kidding! That most certainly probably did not happen.

NOTE: If it isn't already clear, I'm not hating on anyone who wears makeup! Makeup makes the people who wear it beautiful, but I've had too many bad things happen to me with makeup on, so I just don't put it on. Plus I'm super duper lazy
This is probably how I would look like if I ever tried putting on makeup now...
P.S: If you're a guy and you made it this far congratulations!! I'm glad you liked reading this! And thank you to everyone else too!

P.P.S: I just wanted to say the real real reason why I never wear makeup is because I'm totally f l a w l e s s! DUH! Well, at least my skin is anyway...

P.P.P.S: If I could ask another question to my friends it would be: "Since when was it ever safe to willingly poke your eyes out with a pencil for beauty?" Could someone answer that please? Pencils hurt people, like all the time, so I just want to figure out the logic... I almost poked my brother's eye out with a pencil, so why would I dare to put a pencil near mine? I'm not looking for a death wish!
Another question would be: "Why put on makeup since you're gonna eat it all off anyway?" Ewww... That can't be...tasty?

P.P.P.P.S: If you want a whole new perspective on girls who wear makeup vs. those who don't read this article from reddit!