Monthly Archives: July 2011

I Can’t Hang Out, It’s Quidditch Season

I put as my Facebook status last night, “I was a nerd before being a nerd was cool”. But I think people didn’t really believe me. So I’m here to prove my genuine nerdiness to the internet and all that do not believe.

Before school I was an only child and had to find ways to entertain myself. Therefore I found rather interesting ways to use the tools at my dispense. If that meant wearing a mustache on my face or some swimming goggles to make me laugh then so be it. I had a great childhood and I don’t care how I had it!

This is me at girl scout camp in probably 2003. Let’s just look at this photo closely real quick. Notice the visor. Dear me, this was not a good look. Don’t try it again. You also cannot forget the frizzy hair and glasses. I’ve also chosen to nicely accessorize my polka-dot blouse and vest with a faux camel skin water jug. This was also the summer that I grew three inches… in my legs. Therefore all of my jeans were too short and I was shockingly gangly. And did you notice that my jeans unzip… in the flare… in the front?
Once I got into school I was a MAJOR bookworm. I was one of the first kids to learn to read in my kindergarden class. And I don’t mean reading selective words with the help of my parents’ coaching, I mean actually reading sentences! (The fact that I couldn’t spell my last name until first grade has nothing to do with my reading skills… what kindergardner can spell Christensen?!) 
My parents got me into the Star Wars franchise at a young age, and when Episode I came out my recesses were filled with me pretending to be Queen Amidala… except Obiwan Kenobi, played by Ewan McGreggor, was so much cuter than Anakin Skywallker… so I pretended that she hooked up with Obiwan. I had coloring books and a Queen Amidala doll. At one point my room was littered with Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewbacca action figures. Star Wars was the shit. However, I am sad to say that my knowledge of Star Wars faded when I fell in love with another movie/ book franchise, Harry Potter. 
The Harry Potter Years were long and honestly still going, just not as strong. I was first skeptical of the Harry Potter books due to their wild popularity (I seem to still have this feeling about books like these i.e. Twilight which I have never read). When I saw the trailer for Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone, I became intrigued and decided to check out the book. I was immediately hooked and read the next three (Rowling was only up to Goblet of Fire at this point) before Sorcerers Stone was released in theatres. I began seeking out Harry Potter posters at every store and market, and by the time Chamber of Secrets was out on video my walls were no longer visible due to the amount of Harry Potter posters and paraphernalia on them. My mom made me a fake wand because every day I came home and would pretend to be Hermione. At recess my friends and I played Harry Potter and eventually, when I got a Playstation 2, I started getting the games. I cried when Harry found out that he had a god father and the time when Harry and Ron were fighting in Goblet of Fire and they made up because they are such good friends. I also liked to pretend that when I was doing my homework, I was actually doing my homework for Hogwarts and would get detention with Snape if I didn’t do it. Hey, I had straight A’s all through elementary and middle school. 
I fell asleep to tapes of Goblet of Fire and Order of the Pheonix for about two years straight.

When I found these my first thought was, “Shit, I lost Chamber of Secrets”. And I may or may not have stayed up until six fifty in the morning playing Harry Potter: Quidditch World Cup. 

Oh, what per-say do you think is in this here box?

Why it’s my authentic Hermione wand, that’s what!!!! 
The hardest part for me was accepting that I wasn’t going to Hogwarts and I wasn’t going to be shipped off to England to learn how to hone my wizarding skills. The summer after I turned eleven I checked the mail diligently to see if I had received a letter from Hogwarts telling me about my special gift and that I had been living with silly Muggle parents all along. But school started and no letter came. I cried for like two days. 
I have now gotten over my sadness about not going to Hogwarts due to my maturity and the fact that I would have probably befriended Harry and gone through all of these death defying stunts or possibly died. I’ve made my peace with being a Muggle.

Tonight, while watching The Daily Show with my Muggle Mom, I saw the most fascinating clip. 
IT”S QUIDDITCH FOR US MUGGLES! It works basically like regular quidditch except you are running with a broom between your legs and some poor guy has to wear a yellow shirt and be the snitch. I want to start a league at my college. I’m not kidding. All of you UM kids: let’s get working on this. I call chaser or maybe seeker… I haven’t decided. Let’s chat. 

Mark Zuckerberg Owns My Soul and He Owns Yours Too

I love Facebook. Facebook is like my meth. I used it once and now I will never be able to stop. But you know what, I’m fine with that. I never got into the games and questionnaires on Facebook because I think they are stupid. I think the questionnaires are stupid because it’s so incredibly judgmental of your friends and it clogs up my wall with unwanted crap that absolutely means nothing to me. I think the games are stupid because you could do so many better things with your time on Facebook like tag people, like things, or creep on people’s photos. That’s what Facebook is for.

In my years of being on Facebook, I have discovered that there are many types of people on Facebook and I think Facebook thrives off these people, but it still doesn’t make me any less frustrated with them.

The Creepy Guy Who Comments Awkward Compliments on Photos
I’m not good about taking compliments in general. I don’t know what it is, but I just become very embarrassed when people compliment me and worried that I won’t respond in the right way. However, my least favorite thing is when guys whom I do not know comment on my photos saying things like, “Ur hott”. First of all why can’t they just spell the fucking words right? Dear Facebook Creep, you feel the need to not spell out the full word you’re but you at and extra t to hot? Also, do you think that your smooth words and terrible spelling will make me fall for you? You would be wrong. Granted, it is partially my fault for allowing people I didn’t know to be my friend on Facebook and I’ve now become more restrictive of who I allow to be my friend.

The Over-Liker
When I get on Facebook, nothing makes me more happy than when I see that someone has liked what I have said. The most satisfying feeling for me is when the likes on a status update or comment get up into the double digits. I really feel like I’ve done something of worth at that point. But one thing that bothers me is when someone likes everything everyone on Facebook says ever. It’s kind of disappointing when you see this person like something you wrote because since they like everything you can’t really trust that they actually like what you have written or that it was even funny or interesting. The like button was probably the best invention by Mark Zuckerberg and the almighty Facebook Gods, but when the over-liker abuses the like button, it makes me lose faith in the like button and all it was made for. 
All of My Status Updates Are Song Lyrics Because I’m Just That Deep
I’m not going to lie, I’ve put song lyrics in my status update before, but when every single status consists of other people’s words, I no longer believe that the person on the other end of the computer is a human, but actually a robot. 

Let’s Talk About Vaginas

I was flipping through Cosmo the other day with my best friend and her cousin (he is a boy… so I would just like to apologize for having to listen to our conversation at this time) and we came across an ad for a tampon alternate. (Aside for my male readers: I’m sorry… I do not have sufficient knowledge about penises… peni?… what is the plural of penis?… anyway, I guess you could always read this and learn more about your girlfriend.)

The advertisement was for a new product called SoftCup. It’s pretty self explanatory, but my mind still said, “what the ef?” in copious amounts when I saw this advertisement. It is a cup that you stick up your vah-jay-jay during your moon time.

The three of us just stared at the Cosmo in front of us wondering what we were going to do with the knowledge that had just entered our lives. I can’t remember who began talking first, but once we began discussing the schematics of this product, things just became more confusing for the three of us. We sat on the couch and discussed everything from how the heck you are supposed to get it in, how it words and how you can supposedly have sex while wearing it. After a few minutes we went back to our real lives where tampons are the thing guys are afraid of, not cups.

It’s been a few days since the incident and I’m still thinking about this product. I mean sure, these little cups kind of sound nicer than fiberglass or make-shift diapers, but I still don’t know what to think about this alternative special time product. I decided to look around the blogs and see if anyone else was talking about this and sure enough, other women on the internet are weirded out by this thing as well.

One of my favorite blogs, hipstercrite, did some research on other vagina friendly products. One of the things she found that I found remarkable was a uterus pillow.

Well, isn’t this just a lovely picture. Honestly, who doesn’t want to cuddle up with some friendly fallopian tubes? I know I do. I mean, nothing says come hither to my bed like a giant uterus. I just know that there is some vagina lover out there that has their room decorated with uterus pillows. If you want to see more of the weird things people have made with vagina themes, go check out her blog. They are pretty hilarious.
So what is to come of this post? Honestly, I don’t really know. I really think I just wanted to express my my worry for a society that makes vagina pillows. Note to my friends: I do NOT want a vagina pillow for Christmas. 

My Parents Weren’t Too Concerned With My Movie Choices As A Child

Looking back on my life, I would definitely say I had a pretty good childhood given some circumstances. My parents took great care of me, I had a loving family, and since I was an only child I pretty much never had to share the awesome toys grandma bought me behind my parents’ backs (that is until my mom remarried and my step-sisters would visit and mom said I had to share because that’s what makes you a good person). Being an only child, I’m not going to lie, I was spoiled and pretty much got to do what I wanted (within reason of course… my parents usually said no to me driving the car or throwing the cat).

The big thing I can remember my parents not really caring about too severely was the movies I was watching. Looking back I have two reactions about some of the movies my parents allowed me to watch. My first reaction is, “wow, my parents were so cool. I was watching R rated movies at age three!” My second reaction is, “Holy shit… some of those movies could have severely damaged me emotionally and lead to further issues in my future.”

There are three movies that immediately come to mind when I think of this topic (and honestly probably the only three that would really stand out to anyone): Terminator 2: Judgement Day; The Sixth Sense; and Titanic.

Let’s discuss Terminator. First of all I would like to say that the second film was, bar none, THE BEST of the Terminator movies. Now that I have gotten that out in the open, why don’t I talk about how my obsession with this movie began around age three.

I can promise you that I was the only three year old on the block whose movie collection included 101 Dalmatians (which I just called Puppies because Dalmatian is a really hard fucking word to say), Pocahontas, and Terminator 2 (does it baffle you that I could say Terminator but not Dalmatian because it baffles me…). I have one very specific memory of getting up early on a Saturday morning, walking over to our entertainment center and putting in the VHS of Terminator 2. While sitting on the couch watching a very intense chase scene between the good terminator and the bad terminator, I remember becoming enraged at the sun shining through my living room window making a glare on the television screen.

If you have never seen the second Terminator movie, I strongly suggest you take a look… but I would not recommend it necessarily for three year olds. Mainly because of the strong violence, extreme swearing, and discussion of the apocalypse in great detail. According to my dad, I loved the movie so much because I thought John Connor was super cute and I liked the chase scenes. Thank God I had a really good filter because I’m sure my kindergarden teacher would not have appreciated me telling her to “pass the mother fucking scissors, bitch”.

The film that almost ruined my childhood would definitely have to be The Sixth Sense. I don’t really recall the first time I watched it, but I know that the movie came out in 1999 which made me seven years old at the time. My mom and step-dad really liked the movie so I guess I decided to sit down and watch it with them. For literally the next year, I could not go to sleep; was afraid of my bedroom, my closet, and my school; I avoided the color red at all costs; and I was convinced that if my step-sisters and I built a fort there would be a little girl inside of it throwing up. I think the reason this movie scared me so much was because Haley Joel Osment was very close in age to me (he’s four years older than me), and I was absolutely convinced that I would also have the ability to talk to ghosts because that’s how my seven year old mind worked. It also didn’t help that my parents loved the movie so much they continued to watch it even though I was utterly terrified of the film. The solution to me being in the room while they watched the movie was for me to put on head phones and play on the computer… it didn’t work. I have gotten over my fear of The Sixth Sense and in fact it is one of my favorite movies. I also love acting in horror films/ skits which is definitely not something I would have seen myself enjoying twelve years ago.

Lastly, good old Titanic. When I was in the first grade, I guess no ones parents really cared what we watched, because it was common at recess to play Star Wars or Titanic. I of course was always Rose and one of my good friends was always Jack (we liked each other in that first grade “hey, I have a crush on you but I’m not going to do anything about it because I’m six” sense). Every recess we would act out the movie in the most detail our fifteen to forty five minutes would allow depending on the break. The giant jungle gym was the ship and the gravel on the playground was the frigid cold Atlantic Ocean. Of course we didn’t exactly understand every part of the movie. For instance, when Jack and Rose are in the car and well… having fun times… we would just go sit under the jungle gym for a while until we thought it was an appropriate amount of time to go back up and see the ice berg. I think I asked my friend once what he thought Jack and Rose were doing in the car and he said, “I don’t know, drawing pictures in their breath fog on the window?”

Dear Bicycle, I Think We Should See Other People.

I hate the feeling of being out of shape. There are many reasons for my hatred of being out of shape, but the biggest one is because it is SO fucking hard to get back in shape and so much easier to be lazy and eat mini-oreos all day. It’s super hard for me to stay in shape while working at camp because I’m usually so tired by the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is go running or do aerobics or pilates. Also, it’s very hard for me to pack healthy lunches because it’s just way easier to bring Easy Mac every day and pop it in the microwave (my new nickname from my camp director is Half-Mac). Since I’m on a two week break from camp right now, I decided that I am going to workout every day and eat super healthy for these two weeks and hopefully I will stay motivated when I’m back in Bozeman.

So far I’ve been doing a great job with the working out every day thing. My dad was the camera man on a workout video last summer and jeez oh man, it’s a kick ass work out. A little FYI for anyone trying to get in shape, anything that is dance inspired will do your body wonders! I kind of hate working out on my own though because it’s so easy to become demotivated, so I decided to ask my best friend Ren if she would want to be my workout buddy for the next two weeks. She said yes, and our first workout took place yesterday.

The original plan was to ride our bikes to the University, go hike the M, then ride our bikes back home. In my mind we were going to do all of this without breaking a sweat, and when we were finished we were going to be so in shape that if you punched us in the stomach, your hand would just disintegrate. Like usual, my imagination was about as wrong as Anthony Wiener’s penis size (congress men should not be packing heat).

We left Ren’s grandparent’s house and got about halfway to the University when we decided we wanted to go to the Italian restaurant she works at but we forgot money.

We stopped for a little photo-op. 

This was before we realized life sucked on bikes. 

After going half way to the university, then back to grandma’s house, and back to where we had left off, we had traveled 3.5 miles. This was the moment we decided that hiking the M was no longer an option. We kept riding and the temperature climbed to about 88 degrees. We rode to the University and then over to Ren’s favorite park which added another 2.84 miles to our ride. When we arrived at the park we collapsed on the grass under the shade of a large tree, and we didn’t move a single muscle for a good thirty minutes.

The view from our spot in the grass.

After deciding we were hungry and wanted to go to the restaurant Ren works at, we got up and got back on our bikes. Apparently during the time of sitting, our butts left their state of bicycle seat shock and realized they were in pain and never wanted to touch a bicycle seat again. When I sat back down on my bicycle seat, my butt screamed in horror. I felt like I imagine a prison inmate might feel like… you know what, I’m not even going to finish that sentence. Just know, it was painful, and I didn’t like it. The whole way to the restaurant we were both griping and groaning about the pain our butts were suffering, and that this was the worst idea in the world.

The trip to the Restaurant added another .92 miles to the bike ride. We sat down, vey tenderly for the sake of our bottoms, and ordered some Pasta and a desert. For the fun of it, and also to suck up some time before getting back on those torture devices that we used to think were oh so fun, we asked if we could learn to toss pizza dough. We weren’t very good, but we had a blast pretending we were good!

So basically my best friend is gorgeous and makes pizza dough look hot.

It broke. Oops.

After our failed pizza dough adventure we decided to get back on the ass destroying machines and go back to grandma’s house (we also forgot our to go boxes but remembered after only two blocks so that wasn’t too bad). When we got about seven blocks from our destination, my bike decided that it no longer wanted to wear a chain. We then presumed to look like complete idiots on the side of a very busy road attempting to fix a bike. I made eye contact with a woman who was laughing at us! As soon as she saw me look at her she tried to pretend she wasn’t laughing, but I saw! I know you were laughing at our misery Lady in the car, and I do not appreciate it!

As we were struggling a guy on a bike who was wearing the spandex and everything rode right past us like we weren’t there! He didn’t even offer to help, and you know he would have been able to fix the bike because he was practically dressed like he took a wrong turn off the Tour de France and ended up in Montana! What a jerk! I hope he reads this and knows that I am judging him right. this. second. Okay, I’m done with that.

We walked the bikes a little bit and then all of a sudden my bike decided to wear the chain again. Bike, make up your damn mind please! We FINALLY made it to grandma’s house, and when we walked into the house, we looked like we had been stranded in the desert for days without water and were inches from death. We weren’t even exaggerating one little bit, I promise. We eventually collapsed in the living room and watched The Social Network (great movie). I also went on MapMyRide and our bike ride totaled 9.2 miles!!!

Today my mom asked if I wanted to go on a bike ride and I looked at her with the most serious face possible and said, “I’m currently not on speaking terms with bikes.”

More Often Than Not, I Wish I Was A Cat.

I want to first of all, apologize for the lack of postings from me lately. As most of you know I am currently employed at a children’s theatre camp and I’ve been putting so much of my creative energy into camp that I haven’t had much left over for my blog. I am, however, on a two week break right now and so hopefully I can give you guys some nice material and hopefully during the second session I will be a little more pro-active about blogging because I’ve definitely missed it.

So tonight while I was sitting on my couch thinking about what the perfect come back topic would be, it hit me that there is no better topic than cats and how my life would probably be fucking fantastic if I was a cat.

Pros of Being A Cat:
1) If I was a cat these are the things my day would consist of: sleeping, eating, sleeping some more, licking myself, sleeping, chasing some string, sleeping, eating, and sleeping some more. As a human, I love sleeping, but it is socially unacceptable to be asleep at four in the afternoon unless you have mono or are narcoleptic. If I was a cat though, I could sleep whenever my little cat self desired and no one can say shit about it because I’m a cat which means I’m better than you.

2) People would put videos of the funny cat shit I do on YouTube and I would be famous. I don’t think I will ever be famous as a human, but as a cat, all I would need to do is roll on the floor or attack my owner with my little hands and BOOM, 1,000,000 hits.

3) Humans will suddenly become my bitch. Look at how a cat lives. They lay on our furniture like it’s really theirs. They poop and pee in a box and humans clean it up. When they are hungry they just walk to a bowl that is (usually) always full. The most work they do in eating is sitting in that little ball close to the bowl so their little mouths can reach it.

4) As a cat I would be able to wear a big ol’ look of “fuck off” and no one cares because I’m a cat. If I do that as a human I get labeled a bitch and people throw things at me. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I do get a lot of harsh vibes that feel like things being thrown at me.

5) I can get fat and people just think it’s cute. Cats don’t get judged for being fat. I think we could all learn something from cats.

6) Cats can make like 100 different sounds! As a human, sure, I can probably make more sounds than that, but I have a dictionary of words that tell me how to make different sounds. Cats just make their little cat noises, and guess what, there are about 100 of them! That is some sophisticated voice box.

Cons of Being A Cat:
1) Dogs think it is so funny to chase me. I don’t want to be chased by a dog. I want to be a cat and lay on the floor and have people adore me.

2) I hate water and the world is about 75% water… so that sucks.

3) Small children like to pull on my tail. I say no. No pulling on my tail.

4) Hair balls.

Well here’s my pro and con list of being a cat. I think I really just need to accept that I’m a human and be happy with it. After all, as a human I can reach things that are sort of up high. So even though I am a human and will just need to be content with my species, that doesn’t mean that I can’t randomly meow and pounce things around my house or my friends’ houses. I think that is totally socially acceptable.