If at first you don't succeed, find a friend who gets it.

A few things.

First, I'm bending my own rules as to the content of this blog. I can do that. I tried posting things that make people laugh so that I could make people laugh but, you know, sometimes you just have to be there. So I've created an amendment that allows me to include happy stories, too.

Second, I realize that most of these funny stories are at my expense. I feel okay about it, if you're concerned.

On to bigger and better things. I'm not a fan of whining in general, some might even say it's my pet peeve, but regardless of how I feel about it, some days start out as a pain in the gluteals (if ya know what I mean) and then just go downhill from there. Yesterday was one of those days. I walked into class sucking air down into my throat in furious desperation (I'll tell you more about that in a second), plopped down next to my classmate who just looked at me. Like she knew. Like, in that moment, we were united in our misery. She knew about the stairs! The look in her eyes told me that, once again, she had tried to climb the 120 Quad stairs and once again they had defeated her!

We chatted for a bit about our own personal struggles, each one being worse than the one before. I told her I had just spilled coffee all over my shirt and pants. My one bright part of the day had come back to bite me in the rear (I mean, I don't even know how, I was just talking. It was like a baby momentarily invaded my body and spit up all over my last pair of fresh clothes). She told me she had run out of clean clothes to wear a week ago. I pulled our crumpled and ripped group paper out of my backpack and mumbled a brief apology, and she said, "I'M WEARING MY SHIRT BACKWARDS. NOTHING ELSE MATTERS." I was taken aback. I had never expected such a reaction, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew she was right. When you look down at that malicious little white square, you realize that today is the day you can't even succeed at dressing yourself and it's hard to focus on the good things in life.

That's all folks. Don't laugh at others' struggles, but laugh at how pitiful your own seem when your friend is wearing shirts backwards.

P.S. Is it weird that one of my biggest fears is spontaneously vomiting in class?

Manders

Woman vs. Wild

Nature’s a sneaky little mongrel. I think the more serene and peaceful it seems outside, the more nature is conspiring to get you.

Today was an Indian summer kind of day, October 16 with a high of 70 degrees (that’s Fahrenheit for you Celsius adherents). Why wouldn’t you do your homework outside?

Julia and I meandered down to the lakefront. Immediately after placing ourselves in a location on campus about as far away from facilities as possible, I had to pee. Fortunately, I feel comfortable enough relieving myself outside. Unfortunately, there was not a location in sight where someone wouldn’t be able to spot my white little hiney from miles away.

Nature – 1

Amanda – 0

At St. John’s, there is something in the water that makes the squirrels a little loco crazy. They’ve been described with phrases like demonic little fiends, ugly, evil and conniving devils, and the like. They seem to hone in on fear too, and maybe redheads (considering Julia’s past experiences). Her and I were just relaxing after a concerned conversation about how especially lively they seemed today when, all of a sudden, something small and brown comes flying through the air at a phenomenal speed! Screams! Flailing! Panic! Fear!

That leaf had incredible squirrel-like qualities.

Nature – 2

Julia – 0

I’m not afraid of bugs. They’re ugly and are never up to any good, but fortunately my logic usually outweighs my irrational fear of freckle-sized creatures. There was, however, this one little guy that I had my eye on. He had been poking around my backpack for quite some time when I decided to let it go. If he crawled in there, he was going to regret it. Back to reading.

All of a sudden, I felt a tickle. Where? I’ll tell you where. I felt something small slowly making it’s way down the valley of the sternum. For those of you who don’t know which bone that is, take an anatomy lesson or, like I did, Google it. I’m very sensitive to things crawling in that area and I’m sorry, I panicked. It’s all fun and games until you have something creepy crawly in sternum valley! I pulled a feat similar to the vivid memory I have of my mom’s reaction when a grasshopper forcefully made his way underneath her shirt (I’m assuming it was a he).

Nature – 3

Amanda - 0

Sleep is a beast.

Well, I have a couple things to share today, and I don't think I'm breaking any kind of moral code by doing so because I've been absent since Monday.

First on the agenda...

This gem of a story was just shared with me by my roommate. I laughed so hard I forgot how to inhale for a second, does that ever happen to anyone else?

CLICK HERE FOR SAID STORY!!

Once you're done wiping the tears off your face, prepare to read something slightly less funny (only because, in my opinion, bodily humour is right near the top of the funny pyramid).

I tried pulling an all-nighter last night, to be bombarded with the cold, hard fact that I'm not as young as I once was. This body doesn't bounce back like it used to anymore, and I'm just barely 21. It all gets worse from here, I'm assuming.

Ugh it was awful. It was like the dark side of YouTube, some sort of physical and cognitive twilight zone. Nothing was familiar, I had no idea how I got there, and my body was doing all these strange things it's never done before. Pfft, bounce back my rear, my body bounced back about as much as my soggy wet comforter during my laundry fiasco (refer to earlier blog).

I knew class was a mistake, but my current class attendance record really deprived me of the opportunity to skip. It was one of those days where I just had to show up to class so my professor could see my face...you know, just be there in body, nothing else matters. Which is good, because my body was really the only part of me that was there. As soon as my rear hit that chair, I had roughly 35 seconds before a slightly extended blink turned into a second-and-a-half micro nap. I know it was a nap because I woke up thinking class was over and my head did that awkward "fall-snap" thing so everyone knew what had just happened. Usually, though, the embarrassment of that situation gives you enough of a kick-start to stay awake for much longer afterwards.

Nope, not today. It started recurring almost religiously every 3 minutes. The class was 70 minutes long, you do the math. I started panicking. This wasn't your average sleepy class day, this was a crisis. My first solution: get up to go to the bathroom. Get some blood flowing, some cold water on my face, anything really. I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, not really all that conscious and when I got there, 14 layers of memory foam couldn't have looked more comfortable than that bathroom floor. I sat down. Woke up. In that order.

Stumbled back to class hoping they hadn't all gone searching for me, but it was fine. I felt like the four children coming back from Narnia, what had been ages for me had only been seconds for the rest of the world.

No sooner did I sit back in my chair then it started happening again. Still panicking, I tried writing down every word she said thinking I could keep myself occupied, which is when the weird stuff started happening. Instead of it keeping me awake, my body started falling asleep one side at a time. My eyes started getting all bugged out but my right eye was twitching itself into shutting, my head was craning to one side and my forehead was strangely magnetic to my desk. Kind like this, only with more manic crazy:

Plus, nothing I wrote came out legible. I reviewed my notes after the fact to find phrases like "undertaindary feel better", "bad world you uncertained about probabilations", boosts others rosenful impicaration". I'm not joking. Also, there were random lines all over my page where I would start writing something and have another micro-nap against my will. 

Literally, I spent five minutes pinching myself,  I held my eyelids open with my fingers, I shook my foot uncontrollably, I sketched on my page, I tried listening to what she was saying, I poked myself in the forehead with my pencil, nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Needless to say, I was directly in the line of my professor's vision, and there is no way she missed all of this. I genuinely hope she saw everything that was happening and it made her day a little better. 

Afterwards, I stumbled to my friend's house and don't remember anything until I woke up at 5 pm. 

On that note, I'm going to bed. 

Laugh when you're awake!

<3 Manders

Fight Club

In my mind, my upbringing with two brothers has adequately prepared me for moderate to challenging  physical combat. It's not uncommon that, when feeling especially spry and energized, I challenge my girl friends to a wrestling match (one at a time, of course, I'm not that ambitious). Despite a few unfortunate and consecutive losses at the hands of my bff Sydney, I've somehow managed to convince myself that I should keep throwing out these challenges whenever I'm feeling particularly burly, assuming that I'll come out the victor.

Yesterday was one of these occasions. My friends and I were having a relaxing night but I was all amped up and looking to do something a bit more....eventful.

I issue the challenge! The girls were skeptical and unenthusiastic but I felt if I continued to egg them on, they would either hit me out of frustration or finally give in. Andrea suggested a modified (supposedly less dangerous) wrestling match where the victor is the one who removes the opponents socks first.

Bring it. Gurl, my entire life has prepared me for this moment.

We faced off, eyeing each other up. I don't wanna say I knew I was going to win, but I knew I wasn't going to lose. In addition to having all these cultivated fighting skills, she happened to be about 6 inches shorter and 20 pounds lighter than me.

She floored me. Twice. My socks were off before I could even locate her feet, let alone disengage the rest of her body so I could concentrate on de-socking her. In the second match, where I tried to vindicate my first loss, she had given up and was lying on her back, panting, so I lept toward her tootsies in her moment of weakness thinking, "YES REVENGE IS MINE", and simultaneously exposed my own feet to which she responded with a simple flick of the wrist. I had been vanquished again.

Desperate to preserve my own dignity, I challenged her sister to take me on. I wasn't going to let these two flukes define who I am as a person.

I'll not rehash the struggle as it pains me to recollect, but, needless to say, I'm rethinking my future career as a pro wrestler.

We got photographic evidence of all three of these fights. No I will not share.

Manders.

Amanduck

My mom got me out of bed this morning by convincing me we were going to go into town for a “Girl Day”, which ended up being fun but started off with a 2 hour session at AT&T where I served as a translator between her and the sales rep. He couldn’t really figure out how to use regular-person words…it was like trying to explain quantum physics to a puppy.

Anyways, we went to the local “boutique” to do girly things and I’m over by the mirror trying on this nice flannel piece when I overhear my mom and her friend trying to find personalized ringtones for their contacts. I heard my name. My mom’s friend says, “You need just the right ringtone for Amanda…search for duck noises!”

…um, excuse me?

As I continue eavesdropping, I hear my mom find the “perfect ringtone” for me – a cute little snippet of Donald Duck singing a Christmas tune. You know, now that I think about it, I do have a lot of duck-like qualities, I really can't think of a better fit.

They’re all ROFLing and my mom’s friend is like “HAHAHA OMG that’s perfect” and I’m just like…”let it slide, Amanda, let it slide. Look at how good this flannel looks on you.”

I continue to eavesdrop while they decide on a ringtone for my brother. I’m thinking, “hey, if I get Donald Duck, this ought to be good”. Expecting the worst (aka the best), I hear my mom say, “I need some sort of classical music or a song from Phantom of the Opera for Joe”.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this.

Finally, she turns to her friend again and says, “What do you want for yours?” and all she says is, “Anything but a duck.”

Some days you wake up and say to yourself, “this is definitely not going to be a laughing day” and then life surprises you.

Laugh at your own expense.

Manders

Adventures of Harold and Amanda

I feel like it's time to introduce you folks to Harold. Harold, for those of you who are wondering, is my old man crush, my partner in crime, and my temperamental 2000 Buick LeSabre. Now, for those of you to whom the make and model of a car means about as much to as the breed of a cat, here's a little visual aid:

Yes, this is what I drive. The stereotypical car in the handicapped parking lot at the front of Walgreens. Harold is, in fact, the only LeSabre driven by a person under the age of 55, funny maybe, but part of the reason that our relationship is so special. Add a few dents and scratches to each of the fenders and there you have it, the old man love of my life.

Although he's a spry old man, he's starting to feel the effects of old age, especially in the last few years. I think he went through some sort of mid-life crisis a while back where he would roll down the driver window at will, usually at the most inopportune times for me. Just like any other elderly person, his parts are beginning to sag a little bit, and I have to periodically pump up all his wheels. He also does this thing where, if I neglect to keep the gas above an acceptable level, he gets revenge by swinging the gauge all over the place and right when I'm having an ecstatic, happy-go-lucky cruise down the highway on a full tank, he drops it below critical mass. You know, that level where finding a gas station has become a matter of life and death.

I guess he's become a bit anal about cleanliness too because he cleans his tape (no, not CD, cassette tape) player countless times a day. I'm sure he must be concerned about how dirty it's getting because of how often I use it...
Anyway, this causes whatever music is playing to stop momentarily while a soft whirring sound lets you know he's in one of his moods again. Which is fine, patience is a virtue, but that little brat always decides to go all Mr. Clean on me right when I'm high rollin, windows down, music up, singing at the top of my lungs, RIGHT at the best part of the song.

Sassy old fart!

Despite all our moments, our relationship is still quite an affectionate one at its core. His most famous antic is when he shows me how happy he is to see me...although interpretations of this antic have bordered inappropriate, he has this habit of...popping his trunk whenever I hit the unlock button, open the driver's door or..."turn him on".

I mean, I could be construing this all the wrong way though. He could just be flipping me off.

Anyways, poor guy is still suffering from saggy parts syndrome. Yesterday his rear window fell down permanently, just in time for my fall break. I couldn't just leave him alone like that in public so I brought him home with me and we had a magical drive back with the warm, fresh autumn air blowing in through the back window.

Commence October 4, 2012, the day of Harold's doctor appointment. The weather forecast called for a 30 degree drop in temperature overnight with a slight chance of rain and winds up to 35 mph. Lucky for me, I like to stay uninformed and I failed to check the forecast. Not that it would have mattered, I still had to get my sleep-deprived rear out of bed at an hour much earlier than I had planned for fall break so I could take Harold in to get fixed.

Driving into town, I wasn't fully conscious...usually I just let H do his thing and we get there fine. We arrive in town and the auto repair shop is NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. I'm like, "awwww fricken A, I leave for like a month and they change EVERYTHING!"

....

No, actually I was in the wrong city.
For some reason all sense of spatial relationships just went kaput and I didn't even know how to correct my mistake. It took me a while to even figure out where I was, let alone remember what town the auto shop was actually located in and figure out how to get from point A to point B.

So I turn around to get on the freeway. I have to make my way back to Carlton, which is south of where I was at the time. I'm currently three minutes late, but since it only takes 5 minutes to get to my destination from where I am, we're golden. Fashionably late. Not a problem.

I'm trying to think of a clever way to make an excuse for getting on the freeway going north instead of south, but it was clearly just stupidity. Now we're going 70 mph and bone-chilling gusts are coming through my back open window, keeping me just cold enough to be uncomfortable.

I get off at the next exit hoping to make an inconspicuous little turn-around, pretend like that never happened. Construction. No entry ramp. 10 minutes late. More bone-chilling gusts and freezing rain. Harold starts cleaning in the middle of my favorite song, again. Dad calls and I tell him I'll be there in five minutes, the world's biggest white lie. But I drove a circle with like a 10 mile radius in under 15 minutes, I'm shocked at my own abilities.

So that's Harold. It's weird that I'm blurring the line between automobile and human.