Time Travel

Why do we all need to be on the same time schedule? I don’t see why it is necessary for everywhere to start at 6am and end at 11:59pm. Couldn’t we all just go along one time schedule? This would really mix things up. Bostonians may start their work day at 4pm, while Californians get to work around 7pm.  It wouldn’t be so hard to figure out…everyone ought to start their day an hour or two after the sun comes up. When God reached out to Moses up on that hill and gave him the 10 commandments, did he also whisper in his ear that “all shall rise from thou beds at 8am” – I doubt it. Time should be universal. What human decided time zones made sense? How come when I drive from Chicago to South Bend, Indiana I zoom an hour into the future? I think that if I wake up at 10 in Chicago and drive two hours to South Bend then it should be 12. I don’t care if the sun sets sooner in one place or the other.

If some of you out there are getting all riled up about how it started because the railroads were created and because of those little kiddies waiting for their bus before daylight savings time — chill out. Frankly, I don’t care about the reasoning. I am simply saying I think it is strange that we as humans feel entitled to manipulate everyone’s perception of time. When I travel, I don’t care about where the sun is. If I feel like it is 2am, and the clock says it’s 7pm…I’m not going to feel up for dinner. No matter if it is the ‘correct’ time for it.

Time zones make me wish that we actually could travel through time. It seems like a big tease to me. When I go west to east I want to see what the future holds, not just be told it is a different time than my body feels. It would be really cool is when traveling east to west we actually did travel back in time, not just gain hours in the day. If any one knows anything about how Superman did it- let me know. I’d love to time travel.

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Porcelain Plastered Penis Phenomenon

I am thankful to say that I do not know of any porcelain plastered penes. (I actually just had to Google the plural form of penis…awkward.) Getting a porcelain mold of a penis would be considered extremely weird by today’s standards.  I definitely do not believe that anyone should ever participate in this certain act, but I am here to argue that the only reason it is considered “not normal” is because no one is doing it.

We as a society easily classify things as normal and not normal every day. We aren’t formally educated about what is and isn’t normal (unless you’ve been to some sort of school for manners). What I am personally interested in is: where does the line between normal and weird start, and also, who the hell did we let draw it?

People’s conception of what is normal and what isn’t all has to do with the people they surround themselves with. This past weekend I flew down to Virginia with my team.  Many of my teammates have a little travel buddy that they take on trips with them. No, they do not travel with midgets specialized in massage to make traveling a bit more comfortable. I’m talking about stuffed animals. I wouldn’t mind having one of those midgets though…

In my opinion, having a stuffed animal is not weird by any means. They’re cute and cuddly and provide an excellent place for you to rest your head on. Leave it to my teammates have successfully crossed my personal line of weirdness. On my team it’s normal to have the head of the animal sticking out of whatever carry-on bag they are using. Therefore, my team presents themselves to the public world as a student athlete, who…cares about their little buddy so much to let it breathe fresh air…?

As I walked proudly through the airport with my teammates, I couldn’t help but wonder what image we were portraying. I don’t give a rats ass about what other travelers thought of us, but more-so, I was curious about whether our image struck them as normal or not. I’d like to think that we walked by some adult who secretly wished to themselves that they hadn’t left their travel buddy at home. I bet there were other people who looked at us and thought: ‘Seriously? They are 20 years old! What are they doing with those stuffed animals still?’  Those people can 1. fight me or 2. stop judging.

At the end of the day, who really cares if those little cute animals don’t want to be enclosed in a backpack. Every individual can do what ever they’d like. If you get a few people to do it with you, then suddenly you’re normal.

I am not a fan of the “group think”-type attitude. But hey! At least you’re not a weirdo if you’re not alone. Let’s just all hope that the “group think” attitude won’t apply for something very weird…for example…maybe…porcelain penis molds…(gross)…because if it is as powerful as I suspect it to be…it could turn into a phenomenon. That would have made for a much less cute picture underneath.

 

P.S. What does my title really have to do with this post? Not much, just thought I’d grab a few more of you weirdos by putting a nasty image in your head. You’re welcome for that.

After-thought — Jimi Hendrix had his penis plastered by a groupie in ’68. It does exist! Very weird.

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poking eyeballs and painting faces

I am no Kim Kardashian. I don’t have a team of people who wake up with me every day, there ready to put my face on. My style is something more like rolling out of bed and then if time permits, dab some nude colored liquid on over my pimples. As I sit here now and reflect upon the way I regularly present myself to society, I’m thinking that maybe I ought to ditch the “I’m too lazy to care” look. I have to give it to Kim, she is way hotter than me. In order to boost my self-esteem I will settle for lying to my inner self: I could be just as hot as Kim if I had an entire team to work on me everyday!!! 🙂 Feelin’ good.

Ok, tomorrow I will make myself look beautiful. To start my beautification process I have to conquer the most grueling, terrifying stage. I must…get rid of my impurities. Goddesses were created with one perfect skin tone. No bumps. No redness. And for goddesses’ sake don’t you dare show a … pimple … ew. I am thankful for my years of practice, for this stage is no easy battle.

My pores say “thank you” to me as I fill them in with my tinted moisturizer. Although they would love to breath, they understand the great sacrifice they are making. I know my mother loves me because she bought me really expensive paste to put on anything red. Mom wouldn’t want those red filthy things exposed to the cruelty of the outside world. This amazing paste also instantly wakes my face up. Don’t allow the public to know that you might be a bit sleepy. Fool them by rubbing this paste under the eyes.

Last quick step to beautiful looking skin: powder. A great man once grounded up minerals and different dyes to create the perfect skin tone. The brush will transport this unique blend of the earth and transport it on your face. Any remaining natural part of your face will be covered and thus packaging you up on your journey towards beauty. The more powder the better. Follow Kim Kardashian’s motto: An inch of cover-up is an inch closer to perfection. Top it off with some bronzer to make you look nice and tan. During the winter months you’ll need extra bronzer to create the illusion that you were just on the beach. Viola! perfect skin!

Last but definitely not least, the eyeball stage. For this, I open my eyes up as wide as they can go and stick a pencil in them. The goal is to place color on the insides of both your upper and lower lid. Your eyes may water, get poked or blink and thus not allowing the color to get on…but it is worth it. Persistence is key! After the pencil has reached your inner eye, pull on the outer corners of your lid. Then put the pencil as close to your lashes as possible and apply! Add mascara and you’re all set. The trick to good mascara is to apply enough so that your lashes become hard but perfectly positioned. They won’t go any where.

It is a good thing this process isn’t considered weird in our society. Instead the result of this long and tedious process is easily defined with one word: beauty. Don’t let people know that you’re ugly. Trick them into thinking you’re good-looking.  This girl knows what’s up.

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middle parts

I really really really hate almost everything associated with middle parts. I have to say almost because of those damn Victoria’s Secret Models.

Yes, those ones. I mean she looks good with the middle part; unfortunately most of us do not.  To justify this point I have decided to painfully provide you with what non-supermodels look like with them.

**DISCLOSURE–the following picture is NOT attractive**

I’m embarrassed to share this with you but I found it necessary to show you a real life example of why middle parts are so awful. My friends and I are NOT looking very normal in this. Why? We look weird because of the dreaded, the dangerous and the detrimental MIDDLE PART.

The reason why I am talking about middle parts is all due to HANSON. As an attempt to be a well informed blogger I was doing a bit of research about what other people consider “weird.”  Here is what Hanson thinks of the enlightening subject:

Apparently the Hanson brothers don’t think that their middle part is weird but they depict goths and twins as weird. Hmm. Interesting research. I personally think the part where they are swimming through the train in the weirdest part. But that’s just me.

Lesson of the day: Hanson thinks that it is an okay thing to be weird!! WOOOOO! Thank goodness we have Hanson’s approval.

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WTF!?!

I really don’t have any content today that would harness a WTF title. Sorry for fooling you. Today I was told in my communications class that in order for people to click on your blog you ought to have a title that is provocative and generates a WTF!!-type reaction. I thought it would be easy for me to do that, but I guess I give myself more merits in the creativity department than I deserve. Seriously, I’m so boring. My blog titles so far have all been blah. I apologize if I have failed to entertain you.

What am I talking about? Who am I even talking to right now? This concept – you know, me sitting here talking to a computer as if it’s one of my buddies – is freaking insane. I can’t believe I waste my time sitting here writing what I think about weird humans so that I can post it to a public site. This probably makes me weird too huh? Well, whatever, we are all weird! Reading blogs, creating blogs, participating in blogs – it’s all the same. We are all engaging in a virtual conversation. It is a pretty badass invention for those who are far away and therefore cannot easily contact each other to have that personal contact. It also makes sense for those who live underground and thus have limited human contact. I fear I am failing to reach my point.

My point: why converse online when you could do it in person?

I think this all comes down to something innate about who I am. I come from a big family and I am one in the middle. The 7th child to be exact. (I tell you this so that you partially feel sorry for me). Being in the middle of lots of kids…it’s a hard life. All I want is for my voice to be heard!!

Ugh. Even just typing that the voice in my head turned into an annoying wining tone and really made me mad. I hope that’s not why I am writing right now. I’m not exactly sure what makes me want to post, but for whatever reason, I still think the act of blogging is freaky. If I wasn’t a weirdo I’d probably shut this off and go talk to someone about this face to face. Instead let us all give thanks that I am a freak and therefore giving you the ability to waste your time with me.

Blogs are weird. If you are reading this you are subject to some sort of emotion. I hope you are agreeing with me and thus want to continue reading. Maybe you’re annoyed with me and want me to just shut up. Or, if you are like my teammate who read my blog yesterday, maybe my blog “makes you angry.” Sad. Not my intention. If blogging is an unnatural way to converse and has the potential to make my teammates angry, I ought to stop.

Don’t worry. I don’t plan on stopping. I just wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page that this little thing we are doing here is weird. That doesn’t mean it isn’t awesome.

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long-stemmed roses

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! Cheers to spending tonight alone with last night’s movie popcorn and a bag of M&M’s. I ‘celebrated’ this lovely day (get it? I know I’m so clever) yesterday. When I say celebrated I mean that I received my heart-shaped box of chocolates and a long-stemmed rose.

When the boyfriend showed up yesterday with a long-stemmed rose I was happy to see him and thankful for the thought. Long-stemmed roses are his thing. He likes to show up with one from time to time in his attempt to stay romantic. So yesterday, sorry to say this, when I got my Valentine’s Day issued rose I was not excited in the least. What is strange though is that he felt inclined to present one of his token roses on this particular day. I strongly believe that he gave me one because…he had to. This is the result of the fact that honestly, I would have been PISSED if he forgot to get me one!!

How ridiculous is this day? Seriously. My man got me a rose and a box of chocolates…neither of which evoked my emotions. The gifts didn’t make me believe he loved me, and they definitely didn’t make me feel special. BUT!  I am so happy that I did get these monetary things. I am tempted to start preaching about society and the effect of the media on our culture and blah blah blah. Instead I’m going to stick with how weird this holiday is.

We have created a day devoted to showing your loved ones that you love them. This day is supposed to be about romance but arguably more-so about chocolates and flowers. Humans are kind of pathetic. If you are in love, I believe that you should show it every day, not only because of the Hallmark nature of this day.

Shit, I’m not focused. What is weird to me about all of this is that I am fully aware of the stupidity of this holiday, but yeeeeeeeeettttt I love me some chocolates!!! I feel like such a hypocrite. I acted all cool towards my bf and said something stupid like “why’d  you buy me this? I don’t need some silly heart-shaped box from the local corner store!”  The truth is that I’m actually not cool. I secretly thought: “yesss, I am not a big loner this Valentine’s Day and I have a man to buy me chocolates!!!”

I guess the only explanation is that we humans love attention and if we need to create a holiday to force the people who love us to give us extra attention then so be it. Am I right? I have no idea. If I’m wrong, let’s argue about it.  It’d be fun. All I am sure about is that for some weird reason, I am so happy I got my long-stemmed rose and chocolates for Valentine’s Day.

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February 14th..?

In light of the big ‘ole Valentines Day coming up tomorrow morning, I felt it pressing that I share with you (if you even exist) how I feel about this day.  I think that this ‘holiday’ is bizarre. You’d think that I would love it due to the following facts: I am a hopeless romantic, I cry every single time I watch the Notebook and I am lucky enough that I have a Valentine. And no, I am not one of those haters who on Valentines Day listens to heavy metal and watches slasher movies either. I just simply think the concept of this day is weird. Let me tell you why.

My boyfriend came in to be with me tonight.  He usually sees me once a week whenever is the best time for both of us. Of course, I had to have him here tonight so that I would be with him on this big Valentines Day we have coming in just a few hours. But why?  This is the first thing that strikes me as weird…why is it necessary for me to see him on February 14th? Is February 15th not as cool of a day? Monday’s aren’t particularly free for me, Wednesday probably would have been better…but nooooo. I had to have my boyfriend’s company on this day. The only reasoning behind this is that we as humans decided that it is socially unacceptable and downright depressing to be alone on Valentines day.

Wait a second.

Right now I am being a huge weirdo by talking to cyberspace, hoping that there is a fellow freak out there who wants to connect with me. Screw you losers. I have a boyfriend to attend to. We’ll chat tomorrow. Maybe.

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hair hair everywhere

I hope the picture over there puts you into the mood to read this…it either got you ready or scared you away. If you stuck with me, thanks.

Today is my introduction to the blogging world, so the topic of how humans are all big weirdos has been buzzing in my mind all day. BUT! Starting this blog wasn’t the only accomplishment of my day so far. I also did my laundry.

Yes, I know a HUGE achievement. Since we haven’t formally met yet let me digress for one quick moment and mention that I am a D1 athlete which equals free laundry service. Well, for athletic clothes anyway. But hey, as long as I keep rotating those two pairs of undies I’m good right?  Usually- except on days like today when I forget to pick up my laundry strap leaving me only one option for clean undies….my 10 yr old little brother’s briefs. **before you start judging me – try it out- these things are the only things brave enough to cover my entire bootay**  Unfortunately let’s just say my boyfriend didn’t get very excited by my choice of undergarments and thus leading into my big day of laundry.

On to the point of this post- I recently got out of the shower and I was all excited to put on my new fresh smelling clothes, until my experience was ruined…BY HAIR.  I dried myself off with my super clean towel only to find that it left HAIR all over my body. This of course was a compilation of my hair that all decided to party together in the dryer.  I proceeded to get totally grossed out, complain about my ruined freshness, and pick every hair off my body one by one. All while maintaining an annoyed grimace on my face.

Why is hair so gross? Why do we pick off every hair in it’s undesired place? Why do we cause ourselves EXTREME pain by putting hot wax on our bodies so that some foreign lady can rip it off of us? Why do girls have long hair and boys have short hair? Why is hair considered ‘beautiful’ if you manipulate it the right way? (…only on your head of course.)

Sorry for all the questions but it is little stupid stuff (am I allowed to swear on here? I’m not sure yet, so I’m gonna play it safe) like this that I think about often. Seriously, humans are weird. I don’t know how else to put it. Think about it- Do any other mammals care about their hair? I’m willing to bet that if they do they probably don’t ever get grossed out by it being misplaced!

Most importantly, if I am weird for my hair episode today…what about that girl in the picture above? I mean c’mon. That’s just gross.

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Attempt numero uno

this blog will hopefully blossom into a place where we can all come together and delight in the odd ways of our fellow humans. The fact that I am even sitting here at my kitchen table writing a blog is weird when you think of it isn’t it? Ok, maybe not so weird, but who is to say what is weird and what isn’t? After reading my blog maybe you will think of me. So here I am. Coming at you. You’re new designated weirdo.

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