The sassy horizontal stripe: part 1

Friends

I was really lonely the other night, and in a drunken stupor of sadness I created some friends.

This is Chase.

Chase is a rabbit. Chase was self-conscious about his abnormally large, fluffy tail. I told chase that peacocks have big tails, and the ones with the best tails get lots of sex. He liked that. But then he asked me why his arms are so weird. 

I promptly replied, “Chase, you silly rabbit! Your arms are totally normal!”

I did not have the heart to tell him that they are actually boobs.

This is Miles.

Miles is really good at math, but it doesn’t matter because he is an elephant.

This is Ann.

Ann was raised on the border with a bunch of Mexican pack mules and now she thinks she is one.

So I just play along.







This is Robert.

Robert is a huge dick and nobody likes him....I like him, though. There is something about his grumpy cynicism and tiny arms that appeals to me. You know, deep down inside his little, pixelated heart there is some good.

And lastly is Bubbles.

My friends and I don’t know what Bubbles is exactly…

My guess is the offspring of a Ron Weasly and a puppy.

He/She is super cute, though.

Horizontal Stripes

Is it possible to have an addiction to a geometric pattern?

laundry



chair



bed

Because if it is possible I think I might have one.




This is just within a three foot radius of where I'm currently sitting...so don't be fooled. There's more.

Mothers

I love my mom, but sometimes, it’s really hard to love her.

She is HELPLESS when it comes to doing anything involving technology, like say, OPENING A FUCKING WORD DOCUMENT. (I’m not joking…I had to do this for her yesterday morning. Like literally just clicking on the icon…she didn’t know how to do it.)

She got her first cell phone last year, and she can’t really work it. She can do basic things, like type in a number to call, but god forbid the moment comes in which she has to make a new contact, she wails like a dying baby elephant seal until one of her children comes to help her. (Her phone was purchased –no contract-for $9.99 at Target if that tells you anything…)

I have tried to teach her but she won’t listen! I lay directions out for her in perfect, easy steps, and yet she still prints six pages worth of ads every time she tries to print something from a website. She has problems grasping the concepts of “COPY” and “PASTE”, and she does not understand how one can magically “HIGHLIGHT TEXT” to do so.

So to the point of this post, I will tell you a story of what just happened seven very short minutes ago…

I was checking my email when I see one from my mom, with the subject line “amazing!” 

“Oh!” I said to myself, “She must’ve magically found YouTube!”  But then my common sense told me she probably got hacked.

So I open this email…

GOD DAMMIT. THIS IS THE THIRD FUCKING TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED.

We all know these sneaky little ninja-hacking bastards send these weird links to your email an then if you click on it you get a virus. My mother is one of those people that clicks on the link EVERY TIME.

I know that if it was sent to me, it was sent to all of her old-people friends on her contact list, and as she can barely grasp the basics of email, I will have to be the one to go and fix this.

I charge downstairs into her room, and begin to berate her about her technological stupidity.

Me: Mom! I told you NOT to click on those links anymore!!

Mom: But it was from my friend from ENGLAND and it sounded COOL and AMAZING!

Me: We have gone over this! Those links give you viruses and that email probably went out to everyone on your contact list and it will give all of them viruses!

Mom: Yeah…I thought it was weird that it asked for my email address before I could see the pictures.

Me: DID YOU GIVE YOUR EMAIL!?

Mom: Yes.

Me: *facepalm*

Mom: WAHHHHHH CLAIRE FIX IT WAHHHHHHHHHH

Me: UUGHGHGGUGH FINNNEEEEEEEE

So I begin to open emails from some of her friends. One of them, from my mom’s elderly cousin, presents my frustration with old people:

 “Hey! That sounds amazing but for some odd reason my virus protection says it poses a threat and won’t let me open it! I really wish I could see them! What are the pictures of? Enjoy the holidays and have a happy New Year!!”

COME ON, FIRST-COUSIN-ONCE-REMOVED! I KNOW YOU ARE OLD BUT I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS!?

REAL PEOPLE DON'T SEND OUT THESE KINDS OF EMAILS.

I had to go through her email and message all of her old-people friends, saying things like “Sorry! I got hacked and I don’t know how! Just don’t open the email I sent you! Best wishes!” when really I wanted to say “I’M A RETARD AND I GAVE YOU A VIRUS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FUCK YOU!!”

And that is what I did seven minutes ago.

Side Note- here is a funny picture of a cat:

ADMIT IT! YOU MISS THIS!




**UPDATE: I just realized I already used this picture...oops. Here is another one!

Candy Canes

I love candy canes and all, but...

Peeing in the Wild…A true story

I’ve only had to pee in the wild once, and I will never do it again. Everyone’s all like “YAAYYY LET’S PEE OUTSIDE LIKE ANIMALS IT’S SOOOO FUNNNN:D” and I just don’t get it. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and the last and only time I peed in the wild I almost got eaten by a monster.

It all started when I decided it would be a good idea to go hunting with my cousins. I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea, as I am an animal lover. (My dad shot a squirrel in front of me once and I started bawling).  Anyways, we all packed up and went dove hunting.

This was my first time hunting, and after a long debate with myself over the right clothes to wear, I chose a bright pink shirt, as to lessen the chance of me getting shot in the face. This made everyone mad. Also, I scared away all the birds by yelling BAHBAHABAHAAHBAHABAHABHAAHABHAAHABAH  while clapping my hands and running in circles. This also made everyone mad.

Three hours into “hunting”, (and by “hunting” I mean a bunch of city-kids shooting at mountain dew cans with 12 gauge shot guns), I really needed to pee.

We were in the middle of nowhere in this big field, and the only place that had trees was 400 yards away, right next to a huge pond surrounded by cows. My cousins handed me some hot-sauce smeared taco bell napkins and sent me on my way.

After a long trek to the trees, I found a nice spot to do my business. It took me seventeen minutes to gain the courage to unbutton my pants without being surrounded by four walls, but I finally did it.

Halfway through, I noticed that big ass bull traipsing my way. At first I was like ‘YAYYYY NATURE!!” but then I realized he wasn’t stopping…

I realized this could be the last thing I saw before I died…

(Minus all the people and plus my pants pulled down)

I did not want this, so I ran for my fucking life.

Somewhere in between the trees and the field was a dilapidated fence which I totally forgot to draw on the map but I promise it was there.  (It was a four foot tall livestock fence that I had to climb over to get to the trees...)

I was so happy to see this fence (as jumping it would probably save me from being eaten/pummeled by the monster cow) that I forgot to watch where I was running. And as made up and cliché as this sounds, my left boot (that was three and a half sizes to big…another long story) got stuck in a huge pile of cow shit and I tripped and twisted my ankle and wacked my face on the hard, cracked dirt-grass.

I heard my cousins laughing from one hundred yards away and I still had a fucking bull chasing after me (or so I thought), so I hobble-hop-dragged my ass back to the fence and threw my body over it, only to land back-first onto a pile of sharp  rocks.

Laying on the ground in excruciating pain, I glanced through the fence only to realize the bull was not chasing after me. He was walking to a patch of clovers that just happened to be near the spot chose to pee.

And that is why I will never pee in the wild again.



Superfuntimes

It is winter break now, and I have been having the most wonderful time!

(it has only been three days but I feel I have done a lot)

Things I have accomplished:

-made spaghetti

-bought pringles

-watched Elf six times (and counting)

-went to the gym

-played 107 games of solitaire

-spent 17 hours on stumbleupon

-saw two depressing movies at the movie theater

It is amazing that I found time to hit the gym with my busy schedule! I was going to go to the gym again last night, but after a long, heartfelt conversation with myself I decided to do something even better…

Angry Letters

Dear Winter,

I fucking hate you.

I fucking hate that you make everything so god damn cold. I hate that you force me to wear three pairs of sweatpants, long sleeves, and a parka twenty four hours a day for three and half months out of the year.

Raging Bitch is a polar bear, and as we share an air conditioning unit, the temperature is always her way or the I'll-eat-you-if-it’s-warmer-than-seventeen-degrees-in-here way. Last winter, my third cousin stayed over for Christmas and she tried to turn the heat on in the middle of the night. Raging Bitch attacked her, and because Cousin’s legs had succumbed to frostbite, she couldn’t run away fast enough. I woke up the next morning to find this…



Normally, Winter, people like you because it means they can sit inside, nice and warm, and watch you rape everything outside. But the people I live with don’t believe in heat.  Being in my bedroom is like being stuck inside a meat freezer. How do you expect me to study for winter finals when my all of the ink in my pens is frozen?

I have drawn a picture for you, depicting what it’s like for me at night…

Yes, I do wear a parka to bed. I also wear that headband/ear warmer contraption that I got when I was on my middle school track team.

And yes, Winter, that is snow. If Raging Bitch isn’t surrounded by snow, her heart will melt.

Winter, you make Raging Bitch more ragefully bitchy, as your icy wrath entices her meanness. Do you know what she said the other day?

“claire, did someone punch you in the side of your face? …Oh, wait. That’s just your acne…HAH.”

What a bitch!

Winter, you make my mornings horrible. I find it hard to hold onto my steering wheel on my way to school, as it is usually frozen over. It makes me want to not use my hands when I drive, but other people get mad when I do that, and they honk at me and make me feel bad:(

Lastly, Winter, I hate you because you always try to spoil Santa’s gift-giving goodness…

And you kind of scare the shit out me.

Please, go back to Canada. Canadians will like you. They like everyone.

You can go die, you piece of shit. 

Best Regards,

claire.

Why I failed my calculus test...

Black Skinny Jeans

Normal jeans suck. I feel like an old, fat blob when I wear normal jeans, but as I have to abide by certain social standards that do not allow me to wear the same jeans/same type of jeans consecutive days in a row, I am forced to feel like an old, fat blob at least once a week.

Below depicts what I feel like when I wear normal jeans:

(not that these people are old, fat blobs or anything, because that is mean and I am not mean)

But when I wear skinny jeans, I feel like this ---> :D

Skinny jeans make we want to do crazy things, like bungee jump and sky dive and dance like a spaz. I think skinny jeans make me funnier too, as I usually wear skinny jeans when I preform super funny stand-up comedy for the President of the United States.

JUST KIDDING.

I wear a pant-suit when I preform stand-up comedy for the President of the United States.

Below depicts what I feel like when I wear skinny jeans:

And HOT DAMN, when I wear my black skinny jeans I feel like a smoking-hot, bad-ass motha fucka/ninja/super kick-ass spy.

When I put on those black skinny jeans, I wanna go blow shit up and walk away in slow motion. My black skinny jeans make me feel like doing this:

Yes. This exactly.

Black skinny jeans make me wanna steal some powerful weapons and makeout with my hottie boyfriend.

They make me wanna kick some ass...

And that is why everyone needs a pair of black skinny jeans.

*P.S. (THIS IS SUPER EXCITING: i made it so that you don't have to have a google account to post comments...yay :D so i expect you to now leave comments) (not mean comments) (or I will send psycho cat after you)





ughghhhhh

I'm sure you understand this, but as I am really fucking tired having just put myself through another one of my murder-clown-ebola-grenade writing processes, it has to be said...

I HATE ESSAYS.

theycallmeturbo

I would like to dedicate this post to my one follower theycallmeturbo  <3

One follower, I love you. I would like to take the time out to thank you for following my blog, as this makes me feel popular (like those kids in school I pretend to hate but actually slightly envy) (god damn them and their perfect fucking hair and successful romantic relationships)

I know there is more than one person that reads my blog, but all of you are just TO GOD DAMN LAZY to push that little button that say “FOLLOW THIS AWESOME BLOG:D”.

(There is not really a button that says that, but I will make one and then you can push it.)  

You people need to follow me so I can become famous and make lots of money and not have to get a real job where I have to write essays.

If you do not want to follow me, there are other things you can do to help the cause, like carving my URL into public bathroom stalls, screaming it from mountain tops, and writing INSTEADOFESSAYS.BLOGSPOT.COM on every paper bill you ever come across for the rest of your life.

Yes. That should work.

Anyways, tell all of your friends, Facebook it, twitter it, draw it on the walls with cocaine at a nightclub, whatever you kids are into these days.

And to you, my follower, I have a present...

It is called “Thank You Kitty,” and there is no picture out there that represents the gratefulness I have for you better than this one.

Love,

claire

Elephants and Such part II

All right friends. I know you have been waiting in anticipation for my essay (the one that I mentioned here) so I have decided to finally take the time to share with you my third grade pride and joy. The only reason I know this was my third grade pride and joy is because at the end of each school year my elementary school used to let every kid in every grade pick out their most prized article of writing to be compiled into a big ass book called the “Husky Howl,” as the Husky was our school mascot. I have kept my Husky Howls from way back when and I look at them occasionally to remind myself of the good old days, when essays were still fun.

Wait. I take that back.

Essays were never fun.

Anyways, the essay is lovingly titled “How I won $1,000,000” and it was originally written in Curlz MT font, if that explains anything about the sophistication of my writing style.  

On a side note, there were multiple essays with the title “How to Brush Your Teeth” in this particular edition of the Howl, as it was a popular topic amongst my peers of the day.  

Damn.  I should have chosen that as my process essay topic. That would have been a good one.

Also, I will not change any original grammatical or structural errors, as it adds character to the story. (Side note: I’m pretty this is what Rick Perry says when people tell him to edit his candidate speeches.)

I will also write my commentary on the subject in hot pink, so you will not get confused.

Ok so here is the story of how I won a million dollars.

   One morning I woke up at 7:00 because the doorbell had rang. I started getting out of bed and I answered the door. I opened the door and guess who it was? I was a contest man saying I had won 1,000,000 dollars for winning the “Make your own animal” contest. I was so excited when this happened I did not know what to do! So I took the money and went on a shopping spree to buy all the cool things in the world!

First off, I am impressed at my elementary self for being to make an animal. I have come to realize that fabricating a new species is quite a scientific feat!

     The first thing I bought was an elephant. I named him Garfeild and I gave him a big bowl of peanuts. I was having a little trouble keeping Garfeild happy so I invited my friend Rachel to come over and help me buy some more stuff. When Rachel came over she had a whole list of ideas. She told me to buy a big trampoline so we could do flips and other cool tricks. She also told me to buy the biggest bag of peanuts in the world for Garfeild because he loves peanuts.

Apparently “all the cool things in the world” consist of an Elephant, peanuts, and a trampoline. An Elephant is cool I guess. Do elephants even eat peanuts? Was I on crack?

I just looked it up on Google. Elephants eat peanuts if they are in the circus (apparently). (Is it weird that like thirty five thousand other people asked that same question? )

Also I looked up “How much does an elephant cost?” and turns out I got screwed. I could’ve bought one hundred elephants with all the money I had! God Dammit!

 Also I think it’s funny that I bought a trampoline when I was with Rachel. I remember she had a trampoline and I was always SO FUCKING JEALOUS AND I WANTED TO KILL HER BECAUSE SHE HAD A TRAMPOLINE AND I DIDN’T AND ALL I WANTED MY WHOLE LIFE WAS A FUCKING TRAMPOLINE BUT INSTEAD I GOT A FISH TANK FOR CHRISTMAS THREE YEARS IN A FUCKING ROW (thanks mom and dad).

     We were doing flips on the trampoline when our stomachs started growling. I looked at my watch and it was 12:00! Rachel and I decided to go to the Rainforest Café for lunch so we hopped on Garfeild and headed to the Rainforest Café. After lunch we decided to have a pool party. So we quickly invited some people to come over and swim. We whipped up some snacks and drinks. After the party I looked at my watch and it was almost 5:00! If I did not spend all the money I would have to give all my stuff back.

Why do I keep spelling Garfield wrong! How did I not notice all of the red squiggle lines!

I remember being fucking OBSESSED with the Rainforest Café. If you don’t know what the Rainforest Café is, you should look it up on the internet. I don’t know if it even exists anymore, but to a third grader, it might has well have been the real god damn thing.

Also it was like an hour away from my house by highway…that must have been a long ass ride on the elephant.

This contest guy is a real douche. I  MADE MY OWN FUCKING ANIMAL! Why won’t he let me keep my money!?

     Rachel and I decided to spend the rest of the day taking a ride around [I am going to exclude the name of my city so you foreign ninja-hackers wont figure out my social security number/home address]. After about five minutes of walking we decided to get some ice-cream. I think Garfeild really liked his jumbo peanut surprise. We saw everything in [city] we could see. When we were on our way back, I looked at my watch and it was 7:45. The money collector was coming at 8:00 and I still had 100 dollars to spend. Rachel and I were brainstorming things that cost 100 dollars. I had a great idea! We could give our exact payment to charity! We quickly ran over to the dog pound and gave it to them. “We did it! We spent all of our money claire,” said Rachel. When the money collector came we told him everything we did. He said we could keep all of our stuff! That was the story of how I won $1,000,000!

When did this become “our” money, bitch? I distinctly remember creating an animal MYSELF. WATCH YOUR ASS, RACHEL.

The end.

Now do you get my picture?

I did a little improvisation with the purple and the confetti, but it works.

Also, I just realized I wrote this in fifth grade, not third grade. I almost didn’t tell you the truth, for many reasons.

You can let that one marinate...

YAY FOR ELEPHANTS AND SUCH:D