(Written on the car ride home. Just a warning, it's really lame.)
Random List of Things That I Am Thankful For
By Libby Genz
It’s 11/25/10, aka Thanksgiving Day. Or night. Since it’s 8:00pm. Whatever. Here’s my list of things I’m thankful for!
I am thankful that I get to listen to Christmas music now. Well, if we’re being honest, I’ve been listening to Christmas music since November 1st. So I guess I mean that now I can shamelessly listen to Christmas music.
I am thankful that I got to spend the past couple days with my wonderful and quirky family. I am also thankful that those couple of days were spent in Owensboro at my grandmama’s house. Which reminds me:
I’m thankful for Owensboro, KY. I love Owensboro. If you haven’t been, go. I’m thankful for the Famous Bistro downtown and it’s delicious food, also Old Hickory and Ale 8 (even though my mother refused to stop and let me get some on the way out of town). I’m thankful for the Winter Wonderland that happens every holiday season down by the riverfront. It has an outdoor ice rink, and even kiddie rides, which come to think of it is pretty stupid because who would want to ride those things when it’s 40 degrees out? It’s still charming though.
I’m thankful that I got to stuff my face today.
I’m thankful for turkey, specifically the dark meat.
I’m thankful for Aunt Beth’s amazing gravy.
I’m thankful for cranberry sauce.
I’m thankful that I actually like cranberry sauce now.
I’m thankful that every Thanksgiving, someone tells the story of how when I was a baby, Pop gave me some cranberry sauce and it made me cry. Everyone had to wait another hour to eat, and when Grandmama had finally calmed me down and brought me back to the table, Pop gave me another bite. I cried again. He for some reason really enjoyed seeing what unpleasant food he could get me to eat. I remember once he convinced me to eat a pepper from a pizza box. And then when I inevitably squealed in pain, Grandmama offered me a glass of milk, and he said, “naw, give her water!” and then he laughed when the water made it worse.
I am thankful, arguably most thankful for Grandmama’s stuffing. It is literally the best stuffing in the entire world. I could eat this stuffing for every single meal and I would never get sick of it.
I’m thankful for butternut squash.
I’m thankful for broccoli casserole.
I’m thankful for rolls.
I’m thankful for derby pie and pumpkin pie.
I’m thankful for Grandmama’s cooking in general.
I’m thankful that I get to see some best frands when I get back to St. Louis. I’m thankful that Anna is having a good time in Morocco and that she is safe.
I’m thankful for gooey butter cake.
And my dog. He’s super cute. He’s curled up by my feet right now.
I’m thankful for my fellow 2711 inhabitants. Incase no one knows, I have really cool roommates. I am thankful for Brittany, Kristen, and Nina. They make it fun to live at Belmont. If they weren’t there, it would suck. Hard. I’m also thankful that we have such a cool RA. Pukey Lukey is the best.
I’m thankful for all my friends at school who make going to class entertaining.
I’m thankful to have a good job with two spectacular bosses. (It sounds like I’m sucking up. I’m not. If you knew them, you’d know they’re just awesome. It’s the best job ever.)
I’m thankful to have a good family, Genz, Reynolds, and Moehrle. A Daddy and a common-law-step-mom in Denver, and a Mom and Step Dad in St. Louis. I have a beautiful sister and adorable brother.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Moldy Potatoes
I am super tired. Just got back from a small get together at my friend Ari's house :) haven't seen those bitches in a loooong ass time. I've been really busy this weekend. I am currently in the process of writing a 14 page paper, and making up a bunch of other work. Oh, and the rough cut for our historical documentary is due Tuesday, so the group is working on that. Blah blah blah. Lots of stress. I needed a little release on a blog where I don't need to sound professional (stay tuned for a post on Napiers, it's coming once I get this paper done.)
I wrote this on Friday? I think? Anyway. I needed something to write about that really didn't have any substance, to get out everything that was on my mind so I could be productive (It didn't work, but it was worth a shot.) So, here it is. Ready go:
I was in class today, and found myself distracted (as usual). I started thinking, in this, the 21st month of my single life, of all the things I find attractive about the opposite sex. It should not surprise anyone that this list of things is very, very weird. Men have it so easy in the world of Libby.
They are as follows. Not all are necessary for the guy to be considered attractive, but the more qualities he has the better:
Has Brown Eyes. Now, to be fair, a guy needs to have more than just brown eyes. But, between a hot guy with blue eyes and a hot guy with brown eyes, the brown eyed guy always wins. Unless he's an ass hole. Or shorter than me. Or has weird facial hair. Or wears fake glasses. Or is a hipster.
Has Brains. I find smart guys extremely attractive. Being intelligent is probably my biggest turn-on. Some girls need muscles and guys who are into sports and, you know, beer and tools and other manly things. No no. Not Libby. Libby needs more than that. Science Olympiad champion? Sexy. Does he take pages and pages and pages of notes in class? Like, more words than the teacher actually says out loud? Super hot. If he uses a word I've never heard before within the first 5 minutes of meeting him, I am automatically smitten. Unless he's too pompous. That ruins it. And, honestly, it's really hard to find a non-pompous smart guy. But when I find one, I'm all on it.
Rocks a mohawk. HOT. HOT HOT HOT HOT. To be clear: NOT one of those half-assed shaved ones that you can't really see at all. A big ass, balls to the wall mohawk. Or a grown out one. If it's colored too, all the better. I have a theory about this one. I think it falls in the category of "my mother would hate this and that's why I like it."
Obsessed fan of something, not sports. For example: obsessed with Star Wars, or Harry Potter. I find this incredibly endearing. It could be whatever really. My weird obsession is pirates. I can talk about pirates all fuckin day. Whatever it is, his love for this thing cannot be lukewarm. It has to be deep and passionate. He needs to know the stupidest and most random facts about it. If he has a collection, its even more awesome. When someone asks him about this topic, he gets really excited and doesn't shut up.
Is a lefty. I don't know. Lefties are just indubitably more attractive than righties.
Has a southern accent. The only thing that could possibly beat a sweet, smooth southern accent is a British accent. British guys win by default.
Plays guitar. Or any other instrument really. Mainly guitar though. It's very cliche, but a guy is more than just a guy when he's holding a guitar.
Loves his mom. This one doesn't need a explanation.
I wrote this on Friday? I think? Anyway. I needed something to write about that really didn't have any substance, to get out everything that was on my mind so I could be productive (It didn't work, but it was worth a shot.) So, here it is. Ready go:
I was in class today, and found myself distracted (as usual). I started thinking, in this, the 21st month of my single life, of all the things I find attractive about the opposite sex. It should not surprise anyone that this list of things is very, very weird. Men have it so easy in the world of Libby.
They are as follows. Not all are necessary for the guy to be considered attractive, but the more qualities he has the better:
Has Brown Eyes. Now, to be fair, a guy needs to have more than just brown eyes. But, between a hot guy with blue eyes and a hot guy with brown eyes, the brown eyed guy always wins. Unless he's an ass hole. Or shorter than me. Or has weird facial hair. Or wears fake glasses. Or is a hipster.
Has Brains. I find smart guys extremely attractive. Being intelligent is probably my biggest turn-on. Some girls need muscles and guys who are into sports and, you know, beer and tools and other manly things. No no. Not Libby. Libby needs more than that. Science Olympiad champion? Sexy. Does he take pages and pages and pages of notes in class? Like, more words than the teacher actually says out loud? Super hot. If he uses a word I've never heard before within the first 5 minutes of meeting him, I am automatically smitten. Unless he's too pompous. That ruins it. And, honestly, it's really hard to find a non-pompous smart guy. But when I find one, I'm all on it.
Rocks a mohawk. HOT. HOT HOT HOT HOT. To be clear: NOT one of those half-assed shaved ones that you can't really see at all. A big ass, balls to the wall mohawk. Or a grown out one. If it's colored too, all the better. I have a theory about this one. I think it falls in the category of "my mother would hate this and that's why I like it."
Obsessed fan of something, not sports. For example: obsessed with Star Wars, or Harry Potter. I find this incredibly endearing. It could be whatever really. My weird obsession is pirates. I can talk about pirates all fuckin day. Whatever it is, his love for this thing cannot be lukewarm. It has to be deep and passionate. He needs to know the stupidest and most random facts about it. If he has a collection, its even more awesome. When someone asks him about this topic, he gets really excited and doesn't shut up.
Is a lefty. I don't know. Lefties are just indubitably more attractive than righties.
Has a southern accent. The only thing that could possibly beat a sweet, smooth southern accent is a British accent. British guys win by default.
Plays guitar. Or any other instrument really. Mainly guitar though. It's very cliche, but a guy is more than just a guy when he's holding a guitar.
Loves his mom. This one doesn't need a explanation.
Monday, November 1, 2010
To the Love of My Life
My dearest Colin Firth,
Super, bloody handsome. CHECK.
That's really all that I ask of a man. Handsome, English accent, well educated. It also doesn't hurt that you're famous and rolling in dough. And so, my dear, you will be mine.
Now. I realize that achieving this will be difficult. We face many obstacles, my darling, but don't let that get you down. I've thought everything through.
First obstacle, is of course, your current wife. I'm sure she is a lovely woman, but she's no me. She needs to go. This is the one thing I'm going to need you to take care of. I'll handle everything else.
So once she is rid of, we will need to meet face to face. I'm still working out this particular part of the plan. Perhaps there will be some kind of sweepstakes I can enter, and you'll fall in love with me. Maybe you'll receive a plane ticket to Nashville from an anonymous sender. If you get this, you'll need to come to Nashville right away. Or maybe I'll claim that I'm pregnant with your child. If all else fails, I am not above kidnapping you.
Once we are physically together, I need to obtain a machine that makes people younger. Not too much younger. Just about 15-20 years younger. You are 50, after all. Don't get me wrong, the silver fox thing you have going on is so very sexy. However, I can't bring myself to marry a man who is older than my mother. So, we'll need to fix this.
After all of this is finished, we can finally live together in peace, my Colin, my darling, my love.
With Love,
Libby Genz (You're Future/Next Wife)
First, let me just say, that I adore every movie I've seen with you in it. You are my ideal man. I know this to be true, even though I don't actually know you personally. I know enough.
"Born into an academic family - his father is a history lecturer at Winchester University College (formerly King Alfred's College) in Winchester and his mother is a comparative religions lecturer at the Open University"
High Educational values. Check.
According to IMDB, born in Grayshott, Hampshire, England, UK .
English. Check.
Super, bloody handsome. CHECK.
That's really all that I ask of a man. Handsome, English accent, well educated. It also doesn't hurt that you're famous and rolling in dough. And so, my dear, you will be mine.
Now. I realize that achieving this will be difficult. We face many obstacles, my darling, but don't let that get you down. I've thought everything through.
First obstacle, is of course, your current wife. I'm sure she is a lovely woman, but she's no me. She needs to go. This is the one thing I'm going to need you to take care of. I'll handle everything else.
So once she is rid of, we will need to meet face to face. I'm still working out this particular part of the plan. Perhaps there will be some kind of sweepstakes I can enter, and you'll fall in love with me. Maybe you'll receive a plane ticket to Nashville from an anonymous sender. If you get this, you'll need to come to Nashville right away. Or maybe I'll claim that I'm pregnant with your child. If all else fails, I am not above kidnapping you.
Once we are physically together, I need to obtain a machine that makes people younger. Not too much younger. Just about 15-20 years younger. You are 50, after all. Don't get me wrong, the silver fox thing you have going on is so very sexy. However, I can't bring myself to marry a man who is older than my mother. So, we'll need to fix this.
After all of this is finished, we can finally live together in peace, my Colin, my darling, my love.
With Love,
Libby Genz (You're Future/Next Wife)
Monday, October 25, 2010
Aparecium
(DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ ALL 7 HARRY POTTER BOOKS. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU WOULDN'T HAVE AT THIS POINT, BUT JUST IN CASE, I DON'T WANT ANYONE YELLING AT ME FOR SPOILING THE STORIES)
I am on a Harry Potter kick lately. The obsession comes in waves every few months. It may be building now because the 7th movie will hit theaters November 19 (which also happens to be my dear little brother's birthday). To say I'm excited would be an understatement. I can't think of a word to fully express my anticipation.
I got this awesome Gryffindor scarf. It just needs to get colder so I can wear it.
I remember when I started reading the books in about 4th grade, I couldn't wait to turn 11 and receive a handwritten letter from an owl inviting me to join Harry and Dumbledore. I like to believe that deep down I knew Hogwarts was not a real place. "But what if it was..."
In my fantasy I was always in Gryffindor, but in reality I would probably be in Hufflepuff. Everyone hates hufflepuffs though. They're such pussies! They're like the happy-go-lucky dirty hippies of the wizard world. Charms and knowledge of plants doesn't get you shit. Hufflepuffs are like the people in society who run daycares out of their homes, or sell soap and necklaces out of a van. It's all nice and beneficial, but nobody really gives a shit about them. A Hufflepuff would never be President.
Ravenclaw isn't much better. What do they do, sit around and have intellectual conversations? Where is that gonna get you? While Harry and his Gryffindor friends are out fighting fucking Voldemort, Ravenclaws are playing a goddamn game of chess and discussing their views on current affairs. What the fuck ever.
Slytherin at least gets shit done. They're all a bunch of smarmy selfish assholes, but they're successful. I wouldn't make a good member of Slytherin because I don't have that "every man for himself" attitude. I prefer to work as a team, which probably lands me back in Hufflepuff. Damnit.
Gryffindor is where it's at. Brave, intelligent leaders. A Gryffindor would be President, no problem. I bet Obama would be in Gryffindor... I don't know about Clinton. (Bill. Hillary would be in Slytherin for sure.) Bill might be in Hufflepuff actually... Bush is definitely not in Gryffindor. Bush isn't invited to play in my Hogwarts fantasy. Neither is Palin. She doesn't have what it takes.
I think the thing I would've liked best about Hogwarts was Dumbledore. I was so pissed when he died. I had been going through a whole emotional roller coaster regarding Snape. I couldn't figure out whether or not I was rooting for him. Of course, the more I learned the more I adored him. But when he killed Dumbledore, I was still pissed.
I really wish Dumbledore was my Grandpa. He would be such a tight Grandpa. He loves you even though you're a moody little weirdo who talks to snakes and puts everyone around you in danger.
I've also always been curious about Hogsmeade. I wish there was something as magical in real life. I want butter beer and chocolate frogs! The Hogwarts castle fascinated me. It would probably scare the bajeezus out of me if I was actually there. Also, I KNOW I'd trip up and down those steps every damn day. I trip on normal steps. Make them move randomly and I'm totally screwed.
You know what, maybe I would be in Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom made it in! He's more of a spaz than I am! Gosh, that scene when he accidentally rides the broom without knowing how to fly? It reminds me so much of me that it's just sad.
Now, every girl/boy who loves HP (and has a sexual attraction towards males) has a boy they fancy, whether it's Harry, Ron Weasley, or Cedric Diggory, whoever. Some love Oliver Wood. (He was fiiiiiiine.) Some love Draco Malfoy. Those people are idiots. Draco Malfoy would get a girl pregnant and treat her like shit, like Ryan and Maci on Teen Mom.
"Well, Draco, I don't have time to focus on my Potions class because I'm taking care of Bentley."
"Nah you don't have time to focus on Potions cause yer a lazy fuck."
"Why are you so mean to me Draco???"
To be very frank, if I went to Hogwarts, I would totally bone George Weasley. George specifically because Fred ends up dying (my heart literally broke into a thousand pieces). It's just good sense. I would've boned either one though. Class Clowns/Troublemakers? I'm all on that shit. They're the best characters anyway. Now in real life, the movies/actors, I'm totally a Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley) girl.
I mean, how could I not be? Look at that face!!!
Although, hands down, my absolute favorite character is Sirius Black. (I don't know what it is about all of my favorite characters dying. Dumbledore, Sirius, Fred. Awful.) Sirius Black was a straight up bona fide badass. He's like, yeah go ahead bitches. Put me in fuckin Azkaban. I'ma get the fuck out and pwn the shit outta Voldemort and his candy-ass Death Eaters (well, you know. Until Bellatrix kills him. Hooker bitch.)
Back to this Snape thing. Actually, what I really want to talk about is my love for Alan Rickman. I love Alan Rickman. He is so so so so so good as Snape. He's so deliciously dark and evil. It's wonderful. If I could talk like one person in the movie, it would be Snape. "Clearly... fame...isn't....everything...is it... Mr. Potter?" "The winner... of America's... Next...Top...Model...Is..... Harry Potter."
You know what character I despise? Percy Weasley. What a little shit head. I hate that guy. He's like this pompous, square, wet blanket. Ass.
I think I'm going to sit back and enjoy the movie now. I'm watching the first one :). If anything else comes to me, I'll make an edit. Also, all HP aficionados feel free to discuss whatever. I love talking about Harry Potter when I'm supposed to be reading A Brief Introduction to the New Testament.
I am on a Harry Potter kick lately. The obsession comes in waves every few months. It may be building now because the 7th movie will hit theaters November 19 (which also happens to be my dear little brother's birthday). To say I'm excited would be an understatement. I can't think of a word to fully express my anticipation.
I got this awesome Gryffindor scarf. It just needs to get colder so I can wear it.
I remember when I started reading the books in about 4th grade, I couldn't wait to turn 11 and receive a handwritten letter from an owl inviting me to join Harry and Dumbledore. I like to believe that deep down I knew Hogwarts was not a real place. "But what if it was..."
In my fantasy I was always in Gryffindor, but in reality I would probably be in Hufflepuff. Everyone hates hufflepuffs though. They're such pussies! They're like the happy-go-lucky dirty hippies of the wizard world. Charms and knowledge of plants doesn't get you shit. Hufflepuffs are like the people in society who run daycares out of their homes, or sell soap and necklaces out of a van. It's all nice and beneficial, but nobody really gives a shit about them. A Hufflepuff would never be President.
Ravenclaw isn't much better. What do they do, sit around and have intellectual conversations? Where is that gonna get you? While Harry and his Gryffindor friends are out fighting fucking Voldemort, Ravenclaws are playing a goddamn game of chess and discussing their views on current affairs. What the fuck ever.
Slytherin at least gets shit done. They're all a bunch of smarmy selfish assholes, but they're successful. I wouldn't make a good member of Slytherin because I don't have that "every man for himself" attitude. I prefer to work as a team, which probably lands me back in Hufflepuff. Damnit.
Gryffindor is where it's at. Brave, intelligent leaders. A Gryffindor would be President, no problem. I bet Obama would be in Gryffindor... I don't know about Clinton. (Bill. Hillary would be in Slytherin for sure.) Bill might be in Hufflepuff actually... Bush is definitely not in Gryffindor. Bush isn't invited to play in my Hogwarts fantasy. Neither is Palin. She doesn't have what it takes.
I think the thing I would've liked best about Hogwarts was Dumbledore. I was so pissed when he died. I had been going through a whole emotional roller coaster regarding Snape. I couldn't figure out whether or not I was rooting for him. Of course, the more I learned the more I adored him. But when he killed Dumbledore, I was still pissed.
I really wish Dumbledore was my Grandpa. He would be such a tight Grandpa. He loves you even though you're a moody little weirdo who talks to snakes and puts everyone around you in danger.
I've also always been curious about Hogsmeade. I wish there was something as magical in real life. I want butter beer and chocolate frogs! The Hogwarts castle fascinated me. It would probably scare the bajeezus out of me if I was actually there. Also, I KNOW I'd trip up and down those steps every damn day. I trip on normal steps. Make them move randomly and I'm totally screwed.
You know what, maybe I would be in Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom made it in! He's more of a spaz than I am! Gosh, that scene when he accidentally rides the broom without knowing how to fly? It reminds me so much of me that it's just sad.
Now, every girl/boy who loves HP (and has a sexual attraction towards males) has a boy they fancy, whether it's Harry, Ron Weasley, or Cedric Diggory, whoever. Some love Oliver Wood. (He was fiiiiiiine.) Some love Draco Malfoy. Those people are idiots. Draco Malfoy would get a girl pregnant and treat her like shit, like Ryan and Maci on Teen Mom.
"Well, Draco, I don't have time to focus on my Potions class because I'm taking care of Bentley."
"Nah you don't have time to focus on Potions cause yer a lazy fuck."
"Why are you so mean to me Draco???"
To be very frank, if I went to Hogwarts, I would totally bone George Weasley. George specifically because Fred ends up dying (my heart literally broke into a thousand pieces). It's just good sense. I would've boned either one though. Class Clowns/Troublemakers? I'm all on that shit. They're the best characters anyway. Now in real life, the movies/actors, I'm totally a Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley) girl.
Although, hands down, my absolute favorite character is Sirius Black. (I don't know what it is about all of my favorite characters dying. Dumbledore, Sirius, Fred. Awful.) Sirius Black was a straight up bona fide badass. He's like, yeah go ahead bitches. Put me in fuckin Azkaban. I'ma get the fuck out and pwn the shit outta Voldemort and his candy-ass Death Eaters (well, you know. Until Bellatrix kills him. Hooker bitch.)
Back to this Snape thing. Actually, what I really want to talk about is my love for Alan Rickman. I love Alan Rickman. He is so so so so so good as Snape. He's so deliciously dark and evil. It's wonderful. If I could talk like one person in the movie, it would be Snape. "Clearly... fame...isn't....everything...is it... Mr. Potter?" "The winner... of America's... Next...Top...Model...Is..... Harry Potter."
You know what character I despise? Percy Weasley. What a little shit head. I hate that guy. He's like this pompous, square, wet blanket. Ass.
I think I'm going to sit back and enjoy the movie now. I'm watching the first one :). If anything else comes to me, I'll make an edit. Also, all HP aficionados feel free to discuss whatever. I love talking about Harry Potter when I'm supposed to be reading A Brief Introduction to the New Testament.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
I'm So Stupid.
Let's say you have a really cool electronic device. For me, it's my Macbook or my droid. But anyway, say you have one of these items. You ever notice how kids love that shit?
Every time you see that kid, he hugs you and says hello. He answers your questions about how school is going, or his soccer team, and he asks you about your dog or your best friend. He introduces you to his friends, "This is Libby, she's awesome." You start to think, aww, how sweet! This kid thinks I'm cool! That's so sweet! And then you get a phone call and take out your phone.
"whoa, you have a droid?"
"Oh, yeah! Haha"
"Cool!! Does it have games??!"
"Uh, yeah, it does!"
"Can I play one!"
"Aww! Of course you can!!"
You give the kid your Droid and he plays a game on your phone for hours. You even have a competition to see who can get the highest score. You are officially Cool Awesome Libby. This little kid thinks you are so cool, and that makes you feel so good about yourself.
But you're a fool.
You think that kid cares about you? That kid doesn't give a rat's ass about you.
Your conversations will become this:
"Hey Bobby! How's 4th grade?"
"Good. Can I play Paper Toss on your phone?"
Maybe his parents ask you to babysit him. He asks as soon as you walk in the door, "Did you bring your droid?"
You start to get the feeling that this kid doesn't think you're cool, he thinks your phone is cool.
"Oh, I did, but you know what? It's almost dead, and I'm expecting a call."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll be in my room playing Mario Kart."
It becomes very clear to you that your existence beyond your cell phone means absolutely nothing to the child, and might even be an inconvenience to him. You're just in the way of his ability to play Paper Toss.
I mean, sure, Paper Toss is an awesome game. That's why you bought it. But you thought what the kid enjoyed was your company, not just the game.
After a while you wish you never had a phone in the first place.
Now, it's not as though you need this kid to think you're cool. You have no qualms letting him play Paper Toss, or Tetris, or whatever. Because lets face it, the kid is cute and you can't help but give him what he wants. It makes you happy to share, and you don't mind the freedom from the typical enslavement of your cell phone. It just kind of sucks that something so adorable has reduced your existence to a source of electronic entertainment. It would be different if the kid was obnoxious, or ate his boogers. But why give the phone to a booger eater when you can give it to a good kid?
And now, years later, every time a kid is nice to you, you wonder if he is just nice or if he wants to see what games you have on your phone. It sucks. It's getting to the point where you want to leave your phone at home to avoid any confusion.
This metaphor is getting weird... And I'm overanalyzing something that was absolutely wonderful that really doesn't matter anymore.
Every time you see that kid, he hugs you and says hello. He answers your questions about how school is going, or his soccer team, and he asks you about your dog or your best friend. He introduces you to his friends, "This is Libby, she's awesome." You start to think, aww, how sweet! This kid thinks I'm cool! That's so sweet! And then you get a phone call and take out your phone.
"whoa, you have a droid?"
"Oh, yeah! Haha"
"Cool!! Does it have games??!"
"Uh, yeah, it does!"
"Can I play one!"
"Aww! Of course you can!!"
You give the kid your Droid and he plays a game on your phone for hours. You even have a competition to see who can get the highest score. You are officially Cool Awesome Libby. This little kid thinks you are so cool, and that makes you feel so good about yourself.
But you're a fool.
You think that kid cares about you? That kid doesn't give a rat's ass about you.
Your conversations will become this:
"Hey Bobby! How's 4th grade?"
"Good. Can I play Paper Toss on your phone?"
Maybe his parents ask you to babysit him. He asks as soon as you walk in the door, "Did you bring your droid?"
You start to get the feeling that this kid doesn't think you're cool, he thinks your phone is cool.
"Oh, I did, but you know what? It's almost dead, and I'm expecting a call."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll be in my room playing Mario Kart."
It becomes very clear to you that your existence beyond your cell phone means absolutely nothing to the child, and might even be an inconvenience to him. You're just in the way of his ability to play Paper Toss.
I mean, sure, Paper Toss is an awesome game. That's why you bought it. But you thought what the kid enjoyed was your company, not just the game.
After a while you wish you never had a phone in the first place.
Now, it's not as though you need this kid to think you're cool. You have no qualms letting him play Paper Toss, or Tetris, or whatever. Because lets face it, the kid is cute and you can't help but give him what he wants. It makes you happy to share, and you don't mind the freedom from the typical enslavement of your cell phone. It just kind of sucks that something so adorable has reduced your existence to a source of electronic entertainment. It would be different if the kid was obnoxious, or ate his boogers. But why give the phone to a booger eater when you can give it to a good kid?
And now, years later, every time a kid is nice to you, you wonder if he is just nice or if he wants to see what games you have on your phone. It sucks. It's getting to the point where you want to leave your phone at home to avoid any confusion.
This metaphor is getting weird... And I'm overanalyzing something that was absolutely wonderful that really doesn't matter anymore.
Friday, October 8, 2010
I don't know if anyone's told you this before, but you sir, are yummy.
You know those melodramatic facebook statuses that you post about a guy, thinking that he doesn't care enough to read? Well, it's really embarrassing when you find out that he does read them.
At that moment, you're like, "you know what? F- you. F- men!" You don't think that he cares about you because he hasn't responded to your text message and its been 5 WHOLE MINUTES. You start to get sad and picture yourself old and alone in a pink and purple house filled with 17 cats that you affectionately refer to as your babies. You immediately, for whatever reason, decide that the internet needs to hear all about this grim destiny of yours. You type out exactly what you're feeling at that moment, "All I need in this life is a spoon and a tub of cookie dough." (real status of mine, btw.) I suppose we sincerely feel in the moment that the internet is our only true source of comfort. You pause for maybe a second to consider the chances of him seeing the status. You think it's impossible. He's not going to be looking at my page cause clearly, he's too busy banging 5 other chicks at once to care about my ass. And even if he did, you figure it's way to vague for him to pick up on it.
Nope. You're wrong. You're so wrong.
I'm going to tell myself I'm not alone in this ridiculous freak out. I remember back 65 million years ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I actually had a boyfriend I did stuff like that all the time. It was a huge problem. Especially then, because it's like, who else could I possibly be talking about? "Libby Genz: feels so alone." Text from John 5 minutes later: "I told you I was having dinner with my grandma, calm down." Oops? I always tried to play it off.
"I.. I wasn't talking about you."
"Libby."
"I wasn't!"
"Okay, who were you talking about?'
"You don't know him. It's no one."
"What?"
"It's...They're just song lyrics."
"Song lyrics."
"Yeah."
"What song?"
"I don't know, I don't know the name of it."
"Where did you hear it?"
"... the radio..."
"Is there really a song?"
"Yes! Quit overanalyzing things! I hate when you do that."
Since then I've for the most part learned my lesson. A) Don't freak out about a guy not texting you back. It's not a big deal. B) Don't post ridiculous things about boys that you think are just vague enough that you could post them without him knowing but really, he'll know right away who you're talking about. (that was the worst sentence ever in the history of grammatical tragedies. But I'm keeping it.)
Every once in a while something slips though. I guess it's a maturity thing? Or maybe it's because I've witnessed so many messed up relationships by now that I don't really feel compelled to worry about dying with no one but my 17 cats to miss me. The way I see it now (and it comes and goes with my happiness level): I'm young and single and I have options. The freedom is nice.
If only I could've remembered this before I made the embarrassing cat-lady status...
In other news. I'm done living on campus and being treated like an 11 year old away at summer camp. We're looking for an actual apartment. One where we can use a toaster and candles, and my plastic water gun won't get confiscated.
At that moment, you're like, "you know what? F- you. F- men!" You don't think that he cares about you because he hasn't responded to your text message and its been 5 WHOLE MINUTES. You start to get sad and picture yourself old and alone in a pink and purple house filled with 17 cats that you affectionately refer to as your babies. You immediately, for whatever reason, decide that the internet needs to hear all about this grim destiny of yours. You type out exactly what you're feeling at that moment, "All I need in this life is a spoon and a tub of cookie dough." (real status of mine, btw.) I suppose we sincerely feel in the moment that the internet is our only true source of comfort. You pause for maybe a second to consider the chances of him seeing the status. You think it's impossible. He's not going to be looking at my page cause clearly, he's too busy banging 5 other chicks at once to care about my ass. And even if he did, you figure it's way to vague for him to pick up on it.
Nope. You're wrong. You're so wrong.
I'm going to tell myself I'm not alone in this ridiculous freak out. I remember back 65 million years ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I actually had a boyfriend I did stuff like that all the time. It was a huge problem. Especially then, because it's like, who else could I possibly be talking about? "Libby Genz: feels so alone." Text from John 5 minutes later: "I told you I was having dinner with my grandma, calm down." Oops? I always tried to play it off.
"I.. I wasn't talking about you."
"Libby."
"I wasn't!"
"Okay, who were you talking about?'
"You don't know him. It's no one."
"What?"
"It's...They're just song lyrics."
"Song lyrics."
"Yeah."
"What song?"
"I don't know, I don't know the name of it."
"Where did you hear it?"
"... the radio..."
"Is there really a song?"
"Yes! Quit overanalyzing things! I hate when you do that."
Since then I've for the most part learned my lesson. A) Don't freak out about a guy not texting you back. It's not a big deal. B) Don't post ridiculous things about boys that you think are just vague enough that you could post them without him knowing but really, he'll know right away who you're talking about. (that was the worst sentence ever in the history of grammatical tragedies. But I'm keeping it.)
Every once in a while something slips though. I guess it's a maturity thing? Or maybe it's because I've witnessed so many messed up relationships by now that I don't really feel compelled to worry about dying with no one but my 17 cats to miss me. The way I see it now (and it comes and goes with my happiness level): I'm young and single and I have options. The freedom is nice.
If only I could've remembered this before I made the embarrassing cat-lady status...
 |
| I refuse to let this be my future. I REFUSE. |
In other news. I'm done living on campus and being treated like an 11 year old away at summer camp. We're looking for an actual apartment. One where we can use a toaster and candles, and my plastic water gun won't get confiscated.
Monday, October 4, 2010
I'm a good girl, I am!
I haven't posted in a while. Mainly because my life has been rather uneventful for the past couple weeks. Well - actually it's been pretty eventful. A lot has happened, but it's all pretty much too personal for me to blog about. So I'll just ramble, and y'all will have to deal. Or, you know, not read it.
I'm currently in the midst of watching My Fair Lady, a movie I've had memorized for as long as I can remember. I'm beginning to see eerie connections between myself and Eliza Doolittle.
Of course, in the world of Audrey Hepburn characters, I would be Eliza Doolittle. I just would.
The similarities are as follows:
1) I make dreadful noises when I'm upset about something.
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, Eliza makes this noise whenever she is upset or distraught. It's impossible to reproduce in print.
You can hear it in this video.
I don't make that exact noise. And I don't make just one. I have a whole collection of sounds that leave my mouth. On the way back to Nashville today (I went home for the weekend and got back today), this car kept riding my ass, and then whenever I would get over, it wouldn't pass me. It would slow down, shining its blinders right into my side view mirror. Consequently, I would get stuck between the car in front of me and that stupid ass of a car. I would have to brake, thus disrupting the cruise control. This happened 4 or 5 times. I have terrible road rage, so obscenities were shouted. But by the fifth time, there were no words. Just a scary guttural screech. Very unpleasant. Probably did permanent damage to my throat with that one.
2) I'm not graceful. At all. No where close.
I can try, but I will fail. Now, granted, Eliza becomes graceful as Professor Higgins teaches her to be a "lady." I have not been so fortunate as to meet such a person who is willing to give me lady-lessons. In sixth grade, I was invited to a cotillions class. I asked my mom what that meant, and she told me if I would go I would learn proper manners, how to ballroom dance, blah blah. I was insulted. "What's wrong with my manners?? I don't need cotillions!!"
3) I have dignity and will hold true to my beliefs. However, I can be swayed by chocolate.
Eliza comes to Higgins' house, willing to pay for speech lessons. He insults her, because, well, he's Henry Higgins and that's how he is, and she decides against it. Higgins is able to keep her from leaving by offering her a chocolate. She has one, and he tells her that if she stays she can have all the chocolate she wants. I can't think of many things I would say no to if chocolate were my compensation. He also threatens to take away her chocolate-eating privileges to get her to say her vowels correctly. This is also an effective method to get me to do things I don't want to do.
4) I cannot for the life of me differentiate appropriate and inappropriate topics of conversation.
It's such a problem.
This video also applies to another tendency of mine, 5) If given the opportunity, I can and will make a fool of myself. I say the stupidest shit sometimes. And then rather than admitting it was stupid, I try to convince everyone that it wasn't stupid at all, in fact, perfectly correct. I was simply speaking on an intellectual level that the average person can't comprehend. "If I did it right then what was you sniggering at? Have I said anything I ought'nt?"
6) When I am smitten, I act JUST LIKE THIS.
Earlier in the scene, before she starts singing, Higgins is talking to Colonel Pickering, and looks over at Eliza, who is looking at him with large eyes and a goofy smile. A look that makes you doubt she would notice were you to crumble up a piece of paper and throw it at her face. I wish I could find a picture, because it so accurately shows how I look. Although the video does a pretty good job. Sleep doesn't happen. I become ignorant to any and all interactions with other people, and all things around me become blurry. Very pathetic indeed.
7) I fall for ass holes.
Higgins is a straight up ass. It's actually really funny. He's rude to her. He's rude to everyone. He's a smooth talker. He's arrogant. He's ridiculous. She loves him. I feel her pain. I really do. There's something about cocky men that intrigues me. In the movie, the cocky guy actually grows to care about her. Hasn't worked out that way in my life. The cocky guy remains cocky and I remain, well, a commoner.
8) When I get mad, I get melodramatic.
Probably my favorite scene in the whole movie is when Eliza gets pissed off and throws Higgins' slippers at him. It's so funny. Well, only when you think about it through Higgins' point of view. The viewer knows she is feeling worthless because Higgins and Pickering are given all the credit for her succuess, the man she loves doesn't care about her at all, etc. Higgins is caught up in his victory, and then this bitch starts screaming and throws slippers at him.
Higgins: (asking himself) What the devil have I done with my slippers?
Eliza: (suddenly begins screaming, seemingly out of nowhere) HEEERE ARE YOUR SLIPPERS!!!!!!! (She chucks them at him one at a time) THERE! AND THERE! TAKE YOUR SLIPPERS AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAYS LUCK WITH THEM!!!!!!
Higgins: What on earth? What's the matter? Is anything wrong?
Eliza: No, nothing wrong with you. I won your bet for you, haven't I? That's enough for you. I don't matter, I suppose.
Higgins: You won my bet! You presumptuous insect! I won it. What did you throw those slippers at me for?
Eliza: Because I wanted to smash your face. I could kill you, you selfish brute. Why didn't you leave me where you picked me out of in the gutter? You thank God it's all over, now you can throw me back again there, do you?
Higgins: Oh, so the creature is nervous after all-
Eliza: (screams and starts swinging at him)
So funny. I don't get mad often, so I guess when I do, somewhere in my tiny mind that means I have an excuse to act crazy.
Now I'm tired. And I've paused the movie enough to stretch it well past its 3 hour run time. And I have to get up at 7. Damn.
Good night.
I'm currently in the midst of watching My Fair Lady, a movie I've had memorized for as long as I can remember. I'm beginning to see eerie connections between myself and Eliza Doolittle.
Of course, in the world of Audrey Hepburn characters, I would be Eliza Doolittle. I just would.
The similarities are as follows:
1) I make dreadful noises when I'm upset about something.
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, Eliza makes this noise whenever she is upset or distraught. It's impossible to reproduce in print.
You can hear it in this video.
I don't make that exact noise. And I don't make just one. I have a whole collection of sounds that leave my mouth. On the way back to Nashville today (I went home for the weekend and got back today), this car kept riding my ass, and then whenever I would get over, it wouldn't pass me. It would slow down, shining its blinders right into my side view mirror. Consequently, I would get stuck between the car in front of me and that stupid ass of a car. I would have to brake, thus disrupting the cruise control. This happened 4 or 5 times. I have terrible road rage, so obscenities were shouted. But by the fifth time, there were no words. Just a scary guttural screech. Very unpleasant. Probably did permanent damage to my throat with that one.
2) I'm not graceful. At all. No where close.
I can try, but I will fail. Now, granted, Eliza becomes graceful as Professor Higgins teaches her to be a "lady." I have not been so fortunate as to meet such a person who is willing to give me lady-lessons. In sixth grade, I was invited to a cotillions class. I asked my mom what that meant, and she told me if I would go I would learn proper manners, how to ballroom dance, blah blah. I was insulted. "What's wrong with my manners?? I don't need cotillions!!"
3) I have dignity and will hold true to my beliefs. However, I can be swayed by chocolate.
Eliza comes to Higgins' house, willing to pay for speech lessons. He insults her, because, well, he's Henry Higgins and that's how he is, and she decides against it. Higgins is able to keep her from leaving by offering her a chocolate. She has one, and he tells her that if she stays she can have all the chocolate she wants. I can't think of many things I would say no to if chocolate were my compensation. He also threatens to take away her chocolate-eating privileges to get her to say her vowels correctly. This is also an effective method to get me to do things I don't want to do.
4) I cannot for the life of me differentiate appropriate and inappropriate topics of conversation.
It's such a problem.
This video also applies to another tendency of mine, 5) If given the opportunity, I can and will make a fool of myself. I say the stupidest shit sometimes. And then rather than admitting it was stupid, I try to convince everyone that it wasn't stupid at all, in fact, perfectly correct. I was simply speaking on an intellectual level that the average person can't comprehend. "If I did it right then what was you sniggering at? Have I said anything I ought'nt?"
6) When I am smitten, I act JUST LIKE THIS.
Earlier in the scene, before she starts singing, Higgins is talking to Colonel Pickering, and looks over at Eliza, who is looking at him with large eyes and a goofy smile. A look that makes you doubt she would notice were you to crumble up a piece of paper and throw it at her face. I wish I could find a picture, because it so accurately shows how I look. Although the video does a pretty good job. Sleep doesn't happen. I become ignorant to any and all interactions with other people, and all things around me become blurry. Very pathetic indeed.
7) I fall for ass holes.
Higgins is a straight up ass. It's actually really funny. He's rude to her. He's rude to everyone. He's a smooth talker. He's arrogant. He's ridiculous. She loves him. I feel her pain. I really do. There's something about cocky men that intrigues me. In the movie, the cocky guy actually grows to care about her. Hasn't worked out that way in my life. The cocky guy remains cocky and I remain, well, a commoner.
8) When I get mad, I get melodramatic.
Probably my favorite scene in the whole movie is when Eliza gets pissed off and throws Higgins' slippers at him. It's so funny. Well, only when you think about it through Higgins' point of view. The viewer knows she is feeling worthless because Higgins and Pickering are given all the credit for her succuess, the man she loves doesn't care about her at all, etc. Higgins is caught up in his victory, and then this bitch starts screaming and throws slippers at him.
Higgins: (asking himself) What the devil have I done with my slippers?
Eliza: (suddenly begins screaming, seemingly out of nowhere) HEEERE ARE YOUR SLIPPERS!!!!!!! (She chucks them at him one at a time) THERE! AND THERE! TAKE YOUR SLIPPERS AND MAY YOU NEVER HAVE A DAYS LUCK WITH THEM!!!!!!
Higgins: What on earth? What's the matter? Is anything wrong?
Eliza: No, nothing wrong with you. I won your bet for you, haven't I? That's enough for you. I don't matter, I suppose.
Higgins: You won my bet! You presumptuous insect! I won it. What did you throw those slippers at me for?
Eliza: Because I wanted to smash your face. I could kill you, you selfish brute. Why didn't you leave me where you picked me out of in the gutter? You thank God it's all over, now you can throw me back again there, do you?
Higgins: Oh, so the creature is nervous after all-
Eliza: (screams and starts swinging at him)
So funny. I don't get mad often, so I guess when I do, somewhere in my tiny mind that means I have an excuse to act crazy.
Now I'm tired. And I've paused the movie enough to stretch it well past its 3 hour run time. And I have to get up at 7. Damn.
Good night.
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