Gay Cramping

I hate it when I reach that point where I feel like if I don’t wash my face right this second, right this instant, that I’m going to have to claw it off completely because the oil is driving me absolutely crazy. I just reach this point where there is absolutely nothing else I can think about, and the oil on my face completely consumes all of the me that there is. I hate this feeling not so much because of the oily feeling itself, but because once I reach this point, washing it won’t make it better. It should, but it doesn’t. Instead, washing it just makes my face feel pulled tight and dry, and then my T-zone gets flakey and it makes me want to kill whoever invented hormones.

The worst part about having a computer make an error is that I’m always sure that it’s somehow my fault. I mean, I don’t understand how computers work. I really don’t. Like, I have a pretty good general idea, but if you were to ask me about anything specifically, I’d be lost. And that’s so bizarre when you really think about it, because it’s something that I use pretty much every day. I like the word bizarre because it sounds British, which is a dumb thing to say, because, hello, I’m speaking English. But, it’s so bizarre, because you’d think that in order to use something that is this complicated, I’d have to understand it better, but I don’t.

I was pretty much content to feel this way, too, but when I was in my history lecture the other day, the professor mentioned that he didn’t understand how cell phones work. How, he asked us, could the signals know which phone to go to? Obviously they do, but how? And I realized then that I don’t want to go through life thinking little sound fairies bring me the voices through my phone. That’s not good enough.

The other day at work, I was involved with a task that entailed standing still for long stretches of time and I got total leg cramps in both legs. I have never experienced anything like that before, and I think that it happened because of the “protect traditional marriage” garbage that was playing over the loudspeakers. No, my workplace is not that politically charged, there was a paid advertisement (imagine that said advert-is-ment, not adver-tize-ment) playing on the radio. That didn’t change the fact that I felt rage.

I don’t understand how anyone could fall for the fail of logic that was displayed in the ad. I mean, honestly, if a person doesn’t like gay marriage, why do they think that gay people would want to marry them? And it isn’t as though the lesbians are going to say, “Gee, I guess if I can’t marry my lovely woman here, I’ll have to find me a man to go be all up in the Christianity with.”

I like drinking water, but the downside is that it makes you pee. The upside is that you don’t die.

Evolution and Mountain Dew

I really like mountain dew. Especially the livewire one. You know, the kind with the orange flavor in it. I think they stopped making it or something, but the store near us still sells it. Sometimes I wonder if they didn’t just buy a really big case of it and just haven’t gone through it yet. I also wonder how old the snickers with almonds are. Oh, and my parents brought me some of those after dinner mints. Those ones that look like little mouse pillows. Not mouse poos, but little pillows. I love them. The texture is amazing-- they’re like eating soft chalk.

I like sour pickles better than the sweet ones.

I read a really terrible book recently, and in it the author had a character mention the fact that women can tuck their legs up under themselves, but men can’t. The statement niggled at me for a few days before I realized that most of the men folk on my mom’s side of the family can actually put their legs under themselves. In fact, my cousin (who is quite a bit older than I am) often sits on the floor with his knees on the floor and his feet near his butt (just the way my sister and I prefer to sit on the floor). Ah well, I suppose I should just chalk it up to artistic license and let it go.

I feel prettier than normal when I wear purple. I don’t know why this is true, but it is. Whenever I acknowledge this, it briefly makes me wonder if it’s because I’m actually a tyrannical ruler in Rome or something. This feeling passes quickly.

The child in me is continuously delighted with the dinosaurs that have been uncovered with feathers. I had a discussion with my physics lab partner last week where she mentioned that she didn’t enjoy the biology class that she was in because it was about evolution, and thus boring. I was shocked and a little confused, because that has been my favorite subject since I was little (when I would watch shows about dinosaurs on the Discovery channel, where they would drag out the archaeopteryx fossils and talk about birds). When I pressed her for her reasoning, she just said something about how she didn’t like the professor. I think what blew me away about it was the idea that everyone on earth does not find the mechanisms behind evolution as completely compelling and fascinating as I do. This should not have come as a surprise to me, but it did. I guess my self-absorption is showing.

Oops.