Thursday, May 27, 2010

OKStupid

What I'm about to admit is mildly humiliating.


A few months ago, I joined a dating website called OKCupid. I used a variation of one of my nicknames, Cheerios, as my username. Since then, I've gotten my head screwed back on straight and had the sense to delete my account, but I pondered all the reasons it would never work for me.

I joined with the idea in my mind that hey, I'm 21 years old, I've never really had a boyfriend, and guys that I wanna date and who, in return, want to date me and only me aren't exactly popping up like daisies. I wanted a Someone. Still do, as a matter of fact, but I don't think I'm going to meet him on OKCupid. And "Why?" you ask?




First off, we've got The Judging Factor. You may be familiar with it. It's the same thing you do sometimes when you get a new Facebook friend. You scrutinize their profile, note the things you have in common with them, judge them for their pictures, grammar errors, and degree of emo-ness. But the difference between the Facebook friend and the Online Dating contact, is that, you're a bit more willing to forgive people that you've already met.


"That's kind of weird," you say, noting his excerpt of lyrics from Miley Cyrus's 'The Climb.' "But, he didn't seem that emo in real life, I'm sure it's cool."



But, when you've never met that person before, you don't know whether or not he's "cool." Chances are, you're dismissing him because he's quoting girly emo song lyrics.





Hand in hand with the judging factor is hypocrisy. Basically, despite the fact that I am 21 and have wandered onto this site, I can't help but wonder what is wrong with these people that they're my age and looking for dates online. I'm sure the majority of them were normal people, just like me, somewhat unlucky in love. But still, y'know?





At the heart of the matter, there's also the fact that I'm still a bit of a traditionalist. I still believe in meeting someone, and having some kind of spark with them without going through some sort of screening process. Granted, it's been difficult as I'm nothing but picky, but just because I haven't found it the traditional way, doesn't mean I won't.





Oh, and last, but surely not least, we can't forget the messages I received from these people. Let's look at a few excerpts:






  • "You say you like grammar, but I see a mistake here, here, and here." (Note: They pointed out my supposed "mistakes." They were wrong.)

  • "Is that your hair in your picture or is it a wig?"

  • "I love Cheerios, my favorite are the Apple Cinnamon Kind. I love eating Cheerios, but I especially love licking them."

  • And my personal favorite: "I'm an exhibitionist and if it's not your thing, I understand, but would you mind watching me masturbate on webcam?"



Yep. there's a lot of freaks out there, boys and girls.





So, still waiting on Mr. Right, but I've definitely decided to wait around and do it the the usual way.



...Of course, if I wind up thirty and still firmly single, I may change my tune. But who knows what the future holds!

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

And so I join the ranks of Mac users everywhere...

It's been a bit since I've blogged, but that is not without reason! As I mentioned in a previous post, wherein I begged my parents for an early graduation gift of an iMac desktop computer, my laptop was horribly, horribly outdated and difficult to play on very much.

My parents, much to my delight, understood this and bought me a lovely, lovely iMac 2 1/2 weeks ago, and I was finally able to pick it up today.

I love it. But I've already waxed poetic (as poetic as I'm gonna get anyway) about the iMac and all of its lovely, shiny glory.

So let's move on.

...Actually, I can't. I'm too in love with my computer. I might as well hang a Do Not Disturb sign on my door right now because if you could have a Honeymoon period with a piece of technology, this would be mine.

I'll be back. Soon. As soon as I have the capability to write about something other than how much I love my iMac.



Thanks Mom and Dad!


(Crappy picture, but hey that's what happens when you take it from your phone ;) )

Monday, May 10, 2010

The Random Roommate Chronicles Part 2 of 2: Sophomore Year

Sophomore Randoms: Hercules 111

Roommates #3 and #4: Codenames: TweedleSlob and TweedleHog:

The next year, when Kristin and I moved into the on-campus apartments, we were so overjoyed to be away from Chippie and Bumble that we danced on our new apartment's table in a fit of joy. We were free from their slovenly ways and our new roommates seemed cool-- single girls that were good friends, liked to go out and were interested in rushing, so we had to have something in common with them, right?

And for the first semester of living with them, all seemed to go well. Rushing a sorority wasn't for them, but we went out with them a few times, hung out, and generally got along pretty well.

It wasn't until the second semester that we started to encounter problems with them.

Our glorified dorm didn't have a dishwasher and so the Tweedles took to piling both sides of the sink high with their filthy dishes. Much like we did with Chippie and Bumble, we left them a nice post-it note on the wall asking them to "Please do your dishes :) Love, your roomies." Added to the mess was MY toaster oven, which they chose to leave open, with remnants of food on the tray. The same could be said of the pans festooned about our stovetop.

They'd leave full bowls of macaroni and cheese on my futon couch (which, by the way, they broke and I had to get rid of at the end of the year). They'd leave the apartment door open when we weren't home and they left to go play basketball. They'd invite underage kids to drink in our apartment and then those same kids wouldn't have the common sense not to smoke outside our apartment door. We came home one day to water all over the kitchen floor because they'd decided to have a "water fight."

They were loud. All the time. In the morning, I'd wake up to slamming doors and the sounds they'd make as they prepared their breakfasts (God only knew how, there was hardly room for it among the dirty dishes). In the afternoon, trying to nap after class I'd hear the living room T.V. blaring as, in my room, I buried my face into a pillow and screamed in frustration. And at night, they'd come home from a bar drunk and screaming with laughter about whatever hilarity had happened that evening. I'd stumble out of my room in my pajamas, hair tousled, and, I'm sure, the mildly insane look of the sleep deprived upon my face, to beg them to please, please keep it down. Did they? Ha.

TweedleSlob bought herself a cat. Were we allowed to have cats in an on-campus apartment, you may ask? Why, no! No, we were not. But we were willing to put up with it at first. It was an adorable kitten. She named it Eggroll, got herself a boyfriend, and was never home to change its litter. It smelled. And, neglected by its mama, it began to become the Spawn of Satan. It scratched. It bit. It meowed plaintively when put behind closed doors.

I'm a softie. I like animals. I'm telling you this cat was the devil



Don't believe me? How many of you can say that you woke up in the morning in your bed because a cat decided to pee all over you?

I can.

After a while, we told them that our friend who was an RA had told us they knew there was a cat on our floor and was going to start looking for it. We could lose our housing contracts. She gave the cat to her boyfriend and we thanked our lucky stars.

Our final write-off of them came one day in a form of a bowl of tuna. It wasn't out of the ordinary for TweedleHog (I believe I mentioned the mac 'n cheese). She made some tuna, ate what she wanted, and left the bowl (still pretty full) sitting on the counter. I like tuna, don't get me wrong, but the smell is rank. I left in the morning to go to Islands of Adventure at about 10 A.M. When I got home at 6 P.M., it was still there. And our apartment smelled just like it.

I knocked on Kristin's bedroom door and went inside. "She still hasn't cleaned up her tuna?" I asked, just in case I was imagining things.

Kristin nodded calmly. "Nope. But don't worry. I put some in her comforter."

I stared. "You put tuna in her comforter."

"Mmhmm. She left it in the living room and the tuna was on the counter. Now maybe she'll learn her lesson."

I shrugged and started to chuckle. Kristin added, "But just in case that didn't teach her, I put it in her laundry too."

Obviously, our relationship with them was a disaster, and promptly upon moving out, we defriended them on Facebook, which was, to us at the time, "the ultimate burn."

Thankfully, those were the last random roommates we had, and I'm happy to say that our household now is a mostly happy one, minus my forgetful days when I neglect my dishes. But I never let them pile as high as the Tweedles.

And I always, always clean up my tuna.

Pleeeeeeeease? :)

Dear Mom and Dad,

I know that you guys are two of my blog's most loyal readers. Considering that I really don't have many of those because I haven't hit my big break in the writing world yet, I definitely appreciate it.

But here's the thing. Blogs have been few and far between lately. And do you know why?

Because my computer sucks.

I've been blogging when I have spare time at work, when I'm desperately bored from my phone (risky because if my cell phone has spotty coverage, I lose what I write), or when I'm home for the weekend.

Again, this is because my computer sucks. In fact, I'm on your computer right now, Mom.

I have a 4 year-old Toshiba laptop that, while I loved it when I got it, is severely outdated. It runs Windows XP (which I believe is two versions of Windows ago), the laptop latch doesn't stay closed, we've already had to replace the battery once, along with the keyboard, and my current problem lies in the fact that it refuses to run from battery power and must remain plugged in instead. But the plug must be positioned just so, and heaven forbid it wiggles even slightly because the computer will just shut off. It doesn't have a built in camera, which is now standard on most computers and it overheats after I'm on it for about 45 minutes.

So, I think this is the perfect time in my life for me to finally invest in an Apple computer. Specifically, I'm techno-lusting after the iMac.

It's beautiful. Look at it. It's a marvel of technology and perfect for an early graduation present considering I'm taking an online class (that, well, I need to graduate) and that I want to be a writer-- difficult when I don't have reliable access to a reliable computer. We can fit a desk in my room. It would be perfect!

Think about it. And soon. ;)


P.S. Have I told you lately that I love you?

Happy Mother's Day!


My mom is one of my best friends. And inspired by Kristen over at Just Peachy, I decided to blog a couple of reasons that are just part of the reason that I love her, even if she might want to kill me for a couple of the photo-aids I'm going to post.

She lets me teach her what I have dubbed the "Sorority Pose."
Now that I'm 21, she'll make an Amaretto Sour with me.
(Don't mind the weird photo effect. And look! Grandma got in on the drink too!)

She cultivated my love of reading a good book.

She'll make funny faces with me.


She lets me steal her shoes and purses sometimes.

She taught me how to bargain shop.

She likes the same shows I do.

She'll gossip with me.


She saves articles for me that she thinks I might find interesting.

She calls me to tell me about interesting writing news.

She always supports me.


I know that I can call her crying at 1 A.M. if I need to.

She still lets me cuddle with her.

She babies me when I'm sick.


She's equal parts goofy and serious.

She's funny.

She's warm.

She's an inspiration.

I love you Mom! Happy Mother's Day!

Monday, May 3, 2010

The Random Roommate Chronicles Part 1 of 2: Freshman Year

When my best friend Kristin and I began our college application process, we had absolutely no intention of living together. We'd heard the cliched advice: "If you want to stay friends, don't live together." We knew each other's habits: I was (and am) messy and she was (and remains) a neat freak. So, we intended to heed that advice.

For all of a week anyway.

I'll be honest, the whole college process is pretty much a blur of memory for me. I remember touring 2 campuses (UF and UCF), writing some long-involved essays to UF and not needing as many for UCF, but submitting them for optional programs anyway. I was accepted to both schools and chose UCF and then my best friend and I somehow talked each other into applying to both the Honors Program and LEAD Scholars (programs that we'd only stay in for Freshman year).

I do know that somehow, we'd decided that we were going to live together instead of with strangers. And I think that was one of the wiser decisions we've made in regards to our college lifestyle. When we lived with other, random roommates throughout our time at UCF, we at least had each other. I don't honestly know how I would have handled living with those people without a good friend.

Freshman Randoms: Hercules 109

Suitemate #1: Codename: Bumble

Oh, poor Bumble. She was definitely the least we had to worry about in our tales of roommate woes. She was just that cliched awkward roommate. She was an anime fan (I'm not knocking it, I won't deny my phase) with posters and blankets proclaiming her love of all things Japanese. Her wardrobe seemed to entirely consist of T-shirts, "Mom-shorts," and sneakers with high socks. Bumble's hair frizzed straight down to just past her shoulders and she didn't waste her time with any make-up. She left our suite daily outfitted with her large trusty backpack (so large that she hunched over-- just a tad) slung over her back, mirrorshades covering her eyes, and what I still believe to be noise-cancelling headphones fit snugly over her ears. But she always walked with a bounce in her step, combining with her outfit to remind me irresistably of a lazy bumblebee, winding its way through the air.

Suitemate #2: Codename: Chippie

No, we didn't have any problems with Bumble until Chippie moved into Bumble's dorm room and into our suite. Chippie was a transfer student a year older than us, complete with fiance. She seemed fine and hey, if all else failed, it wasn't like we had to share a bedroom with her. But Chippie's fiance started staying the night, and Kristin and I would leave our room to a mysterious thump-thump-thumping noise from behind their closed door. Chippie's soap encouraged faith in God and in the people of the world uniting. She also didn't seem to see value in wasting her quarters on drying her panties after washing them and instead chose to utilize our towel rods in the bathroom as a drying rack. We began to see her as something of a hippie.

One weekend afternoon, Kristin and I were occupying ourselves in our dormroom online on our respective computers. This was freshman year, and so it was a time on Facebook before the advent of Facebook chat and applications. The News Feed was brand-spankin' new, with more than a few kinks to work out. Facebook was still mostly college, with very few high schoolers, no parents, and uploading pictures was a slow and painful process. I don't know what we were engrossed in or how, but that's what we were up to that day.

Until a blaring alarm cut us off.

We looked at each other in shock. The smoke alarm? But what... how...? It must be from someone else in our building. Nevertheless, this seemed the real deal. We fled the safety of our dorm room, only to freeze in our suite's hallway. It was flooded with smoke and the acrid stench of something burnt-- but what, we couldn't discern. A loud beeping was coming from Chippie and Bumble's room and we walked inside to find Chippie frantically fanning the microwave. We stared, eyes and jaws agape and she turned, wide-eyed. "It's on fire!" She shouted.

"Well, put it out!" We helpfully shouted back.

She grabbed the bowl from her microwave with a nearby towel and and sprinted past us to the bathroom as we flattened ourselves against the wall to let her by. The shower let loose on the bowl and a flood of smelly steam rose up in the place of the smoke and mini-flames. Kristin and I covered our noses under the crooks of our elbows and gathered to stare dubiously at the burnt remains. The concoction had bubbled over. It was black with a faint tinge of green, like it had been that color once upon a memory and mysterious lumps populated its surface


The smell was overwhelming. "What... What is it?" We coughed.

She sighed mournfully, staring at what she must have imagined would be a delicious meal. "Well, it WAS pea soup."

We lived on the third floor. Our entire building smelled like burnt pea soup for days.

But Chippie and her smelly ways did not stop at burnt pea soup. Somehow, she had corrupted Bumble, who used to be a very unoffending suitemate, but had now taken to leaving their rooom's trash-- their room's odorous trash-- in the hallway between our rooms. We tried a helpful note: "Please take your trash out :)" It worked to a certain extent. They moved the trash into their room.

It took us about a day to figure this out. The smell still hung in the air, despite its sources being nowhere in sight. So, when they left their dorm room unlocked and unsupervised one night, we seized the opportunity to Febreze the trash bags. Unfortunately, we knocked over a coffee mug in the process and it fractured, so we fled the scene of the crime.


We were sure things would be better next year. After all, we'd at least have our own rooms and only be sharing a bathroom with each other. Really, how bad could it be?

...To be continued.
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