My one-time-only facebook rant (I promise)/earplugs

You know what someone should invent? A virtual “punch in the throat” option on Facebook. Everyone and their grandmother has a Facebook these days, as I’m sure you have realized, my internet friend.

Now, I swore for a long time that I would never include in one of my blog posts a rant about Facebook, because everyone else does that.  But alas, I have reached a very special age in my life. There is an age from about 16-21 where you think you know exactly what you are doing. You are confident, you are enthusiastic, and you are pretty sure that you will one day be famous.

You see, 18, 19, and 20 year olds are just as stupid and naïve as 16 year olds. The only thing about 16 year olds is that they are legally not allowed to do certain things, like get tattoos, credit cards, marriage licensees, etc.

BUT.

When you hit 18 you can now legally do all the stupid shit you always wanted to do when you were 16. There is nothing holding you back from making really, really bad decisions. So when I go on Facebook these days, I see post after post of my now legal peers. One girl that sat at my lunch table in junior high got engaged to her boyfriend (of 7 months, I must add) over the weekend. Less than five years ago I watched that girl struggle to make lunchable pizzas every day and now she thinks she is capable of emotionally and financially supporting herself, as well as her "fiancé" for the rest of her life.

Now, what I said to her when she made the announcement was, “HORRAY! YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING IS SOOOOOOO KEWTTTTTTTTTTTT! Don’t worry that it’s one of the nine dollar ones from Walmart, girly! It’s the thought that counts!”  

But what I wanted to say was, "Anyone wanna start a pool? Pot goes to the person who guesses correctly the month/year that they will inevitability get a divorce. My guess is t-minus 72 hours after the ceremony, when they realize that neither of them can afford a cab ride back their separate dorm rooms."  

I also see a flux of people getting the most ridiculous of tattoos. “Oh god.” I say as I scroll past their enthusiastic posts. “You are going to wake up one morning when you are 37 and really, really regret that Whinnie the Pooh quote you have engraved across your entire torso.”

So nerds, get out there and go invent a virtual punch-in-the-throat option on Facebook, so I can reprimand these, stupid, stupid assholes.

I (obviously) will retain the patent, but we can split the profit 70/30.

I get the 70.

On another note, I just watched my dog shit out a pair of earplugs.

That shit cray. (#pun)

Life's Big Questions/Interview With a Toddler

So, you know how sometimes when it’s late at night on a Sunday and you are looking at the ceiling trying to fall asleep and all these weird, motivational thoughts come into your head? Things like “You know what? Maybe I should start hugging people more often”. Or "Hey. I am going to start writing a new blog post every Wednesday, because I need to give the people what they want. And by the people I mean the 3.5 people that I force to read my blog and also that one person from Bangladesh who I'm pretty sure is just trying to steal my identity." And after you say those things you totally forget about them until 11:57 on Wednesday night when Jimmy Fallon says “it's Wednesday!” and you say “FUCK” out loud to no one in particular?  

You know what I’m talking about? Okay good.#samepage

So, what I have for you is the manuscript of a recording that I made today when I was babysitting my pal Ryan. He is sometimes hard to entertain. And when I say he I mean me.

So what I did today was record a video as I asked him some of life’s big questions. Basically, I Matt Lauer’d the shit out of this kid. He mostly just stared at the camera in silence, so the video ended up being not as entertaining as I thought it would be. HOWEVER, after I turned it off, I secretly sound recorded our following conversation with my handy dandy iphone app, which I will lovingly type out for you. And by lovingly I mean I hate you.

Just kidding! (Kind of).

Me: So Ryan, how old are you?

Ryan: *he holds up three fingers and then stares at them, utterly consumed and completely concentrated. He then dramatically changes his three fingers to two fingers, and lets out a long sigh of relief. *

Me: So you are two?

Ryan: yesh

Me: Neat. So, what’s your favorite color?

Ryan: Wut

Me: White?

Ryan: yesh

Me: Good for you for going against the grain on that one. Not many people pick white as their favorite color. What do you want to be when you go up?

Ryan: ..........?

Me: You know, how your mom and dad go to work? They have jobs? You can be a doctor or an athlete or a rock star or a mediocre honey salesman, etc. What do you want to do when you get older?

Ryan: Geen.

Me: Green?

Ryan: yesh

 Me: That’s what you want to be when you grow up?

Ryan: yesh

Me: Well, to each his own, amiright?

Ryan: ...........?

Me: Alright then, then lets carry on.  Ummmm.....

Ryan: (mockingly) Ummmm.....

Me: What is your favorite thing? What makes you happy?

Ryan: wut.

Me: you know...happy? Like when you smile and stuff?

Ryan: wut.

Me: happy?

Ryan: w u t

*I can see he is struggling with this one, which is reasonable. It’s a tough question to answer until you have tasted your first sip of alcohol. I begin to list things out, things like apple juice, puppies, and Barney, all of which he replies “yesh”. I say “cigarettes” at the end just to confirm his comprehension at this point, and he still says “yesh”, so I don’t really know how accurate this interview is going to be.*

Me: How do you think Obama is running his office so far?

Ryan: *he mostly just babbles and it is difficult to follow, so I have derived a rough translation for you* : My brother Scott ran away once, all the way down to the end of the street. My parents were super pissed, but personally I thought it was a kick-ass form of rebellion. They asked Scott to clean up. CLEAN UP. Like, that’s such bullshit, right? Well Scott was just not going to take that shit. He was all like, what is this? The Help? And he flew straight out the fuckin’ door. Can you believe it? Anyways, one day I’m going pull that shit too, and it’s going to be awesome.    

*again, I said rough translation*

Me: That has nothing to do with what I just asked you, but that’s fine, let’s roll with it. What are your thoughts on gay marriage?

Ryan: meeeeeeeelllllllllllgggrreeeeee pappynanananananana wut. Applejuicebarneyscott

Me: Every, citizen has a right to his own opinion, I guess. Next question. What are your thoughts on foreign affairs?

Ryan: *picks up his toy helicopter and holds it up in the air above his head and just stares at it.*

Me: That one is pretty self-explanatory.  

Ryan: Heeeeeeecoooppppptttaaaahhhhhhh APPPPPPPPPLLLLLLLLLLLLLJUICEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

And that’s where I ended things.

As you can see, the wheel is a turnin’ up there but when it comes time to annunciate things, toddlers are a little on the slow side.

Also, it is Thursday now. DON’T GIVE ME YOUR SASS, BITCH. I WAS BUSY AND ALSO TIRED AND COULDN’T POST IT LAST NIGHT AFTER I FINISHED.  SUCK MY DICK. Or don’t. #womensrights

Summer

Ahhhhhh Summer,

I love summer! It’s the most wonderful time of the year :) A time where stay at home moms facetiously joke about committing  suicide but also kind of mean it a little, and a time when children’s cute little lips turn blue. (No, you sick bastard! Not because they drowned in the pool! Because they eat a lot of blue raspberry jumbo pops! God, I can’t believe you would even think of that. You are so fucked up in the head.)

(Question: How long does it take claire to make you feel a little uncomfortable and slightly offended? Answer: About 2.3 seconds.)

I’ve been thinking lately about some of my favorite childhood memories of summer, and I thought I would share some with you...

1)   There was one summer where every day I would sit on the front lawn next to my poodle and knit potholders. I would also play my harmonica for passersby. Let that one marinate for a minute.

2)   My dad once accidently left the hot tub on for almost a week. It ended up spilling into the pool and making the pool water 98 degrees. I enjoyed this, so I didn’t tell him for another week.

The gas bill that month was an extra $535.

3)   In the summer of 4^th grade I choreographed an entire dance routine to “Hey Ya!” by Outkast. It was mostly me doing the “snorkel” and I only ever preformed it for J-Kwon. (See favorite childhood memory number 8 for reference).

4)   One summer I ate the snowball that had been sitting in the freezer since Christmas morning.

5)  I once went through a phase where I was obsessed with paper mache. I made a bunch of useless crap, from (multiple) “decorative” vases to a spaghetti bowl that you couldn’t eat spaghetti out of.

6)  I once caught a bad case of bronchitis and had to stay in the hospital for a night. I had lost a lot of weight and the doctors didn’t know why, so as a precaution I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unless I rode in a wheelchair. I really took advantage of all my newfound attention, and also made a powerpoint about how I wanted to go to Disneyland for my “make-a-wish”. Turns out you don’t get a “make-a-wish” for being dehydrated.

7)  I used to hate how water balloons broke so easily, so I would take special, unbreakable 24” mega balloons (you know, the balloons they use to advertise at car lots?) and fill them with 30 gallons of water and leave them all over the backyard. This really pissed my parents off.

8)  I had a blow up pool toy killer whale that I pretended was a real whale. I named him J-Kwon, after the beautiful mind behind the 2004 smash hit “Tipsy.”

 

Look at that stylin' muthafucka. We were total pals.

 

9)   One summer I was mistakenly charged with the theft of some shoes and was sent to a harsh juvenile center in the middle of the desert and forced to dig holes in search of treasure. Long story short, I met a tiny, illiterate black kid and we ended a generational curse and there were lizards and peaches and stuff. Yeah, that was fun. 
 

10)I once ate two Wendy's Texas double cheeseburgers and large fries. My dad ordered the same meal except he couldn't finish his.

 

 

I'm about to tear up over here. This is getting too wonderfully emotional. Nostalgia is the like vexatious ex-spouse of emotions, always there to remind you that you are old now, and nothing will ever be the same.  

Happy summer to all, and to all a good night.

College and Other Things

Hai friends. My, my! It has been a while! I know I made an unfulfilled promise that I would be back, but this time its fo real. I swear.

I tried to post a couple of times within the last few months, however I could never seem to quite finish writing a post before I deleted the whole draft. My creative process was a little off. For example, I would be eating a breakfast taco and I would be all like OH MY GOD THIS IS SO GOOD I NEED TO WRITE A BLOG POST ABOUT MY LOVE FOR BREAKFAST TACOS. So I would sit down, write a post about how good breakfast tacos are, and by the time I got to the end I would realize that rather than sounding like  a funny post about tacos, it sounded like the diary of a 43 obese, introverted librarian that had eaten a taco that day. You see what I mean?  It was messy.

So now I just have a bunch of partially formed , incomplete posts about my life since we last spoke, and rather than just keep on keeping on I’m going to SMASH THEM ALL TOGETHER IN THIS POST IN HOPES THAT THEY WILL CONNECT LIKE PIECES OF A PUZZLE AND I CAN GO BACK TO WRITING FULL,COMPLETE  POSTS FOREVER AND THEN I CAN GET FAMOUS AND I WONT HAVE TO SHARE A ROOM WITH MY STUPID ROOMATE WHO WAS COUGHING ALL NIGHT BECAUSE SHE’S SICK AND NOW IM TIRED AND I HAVE TO STUDY FOR MY CALCULUS  FINAL THAT’S TONIGHT AND OH GOD I JUST COUGHED I HOPE IM NOT GETTING SICK FUCK ME IF IM GETTING SICK IM GOING TO PUNCH A BITCH.

So anyways, here we go:

#7 on “The Top Ten Best Things About College”: Breakfast tacos. Breakfast tacos everywhere.



 

#1 on “The Top Ten Worst Things About College”: You how pooping in public sucks because you have to be quiet and make it seem like you aren’t pooping? The number one worst thing about college is that every poop is a public poop.  Gone are the days when you can just poop carefree, you know, and really enjoy your poops.  Now it’s pooping in constant, anxious fear that someone will hear you. Because you know that if someone hears you poop, when you exit the stall they will lock eyes with you. THEY WILL KNOW THAT YOU POOPED AND THEY WILL JUDGE YOU AND BE ALL LIKE “EW THAT CHICK JUST POOPED AND I HEARD IT.”

 

 

 

Random Things About Me #11 : I am scared of very few things. These very few things do not include spiders or snakes like normal people. These things include murder clowns, squirrels that are not afraid of humans, and that moment when you are standing by the toaster and you are waiting for your toast to pop out and then your mind wanders off and you kind of forget you are waiting for toast and then all of the sudden the toaster is like BAM TOAST and you are like HOLY SHIT FUCK ME I FORGOT IT WAS GOING TO DO THAT OH MY GOD THAT WAS SCAREY. 

 

#4 on “List of Things I Want to Murder”: My roommate, when she wakes me up.

I have never had such violent thoughts in my entire life than in that split second that I’m woken up every morning by my roommate unwrapping a granola bar at 7:00am. 

#6 on “Signs That I Shouldn’t be Allowed to Eat Anymore”

The other day I found a coupon for a buy one get one free sandwich and I was like “OMG I KNOW WHAT I’LL DO! I’LL EAT ONE SANDWICH NOW AND THE OTHER FOR LUNCH TOMORROW!” but I ended up just eating both of them within 20 minutes.

#5 on “Signs That I Shouldn’t be Allowed to Eat Anymore”

 I ran out of pita chips for my humus so I just ate the rest of the container with a spoon.

#4 “Signs That I Shouldn’t be Allowed to Eat Anymore”

I opened a can of spaghettio’s with a swiss army knife and just ate them out of the can, cold. Like a homeless person.  Actually, you know what? I don’t even think a homeless person would do that. Homeless people are classier than that.  

#7 “Signs That I Shouldn’t be Allowed to Eat Anymore”

I ran out of lactaid for my cereal this morning so I just ate cake and barbeque chips instead.

 

So there’s my smash of things. Did it work? I don’t know. Who cares? Wait, I care.

SEAL TITS.

The end.

 

 

 

Awards

For three years (up until the other day when I quit) I worked at the fitness gym of all fitness gyms. I worked with kids mostly, and every summer I was a camp counselor (including this summer.) I have gone through so many bosses at that place, I barely care to learn their names these days.  One after another they come in, change all the rules, and fuck everything up. Then they’re outta the place faster than a cheetah on bath salts.

 Currently in place is a whorebag boss, ( who from now on will be referred to as “Whorebag”) (tales of whom are in the shortcoming) and this summer she decided it would be fun to “Counselor of the Week.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound so whoreish to me...”  You say.

Well I say “SHUT THE FUCK UP SHE IS A WHORE.”

Anyways, every week I would have to sit through the fucking presentations knowing that there was absolutely no way in hell I would ever get awarded. Not because I didn’t work hard, but because the God of Awards has repeatedly shit on my face for the entirety of my life.

In all the years I went to school, I never once got a detention. I always paid attention, listened to the teacher, and made good grades. It worked for me in the beginning, as within the first couple of weeks of first grade I was awarded  “Student of the Week”, and this made me happier than a Asian in math class.

Every year at my school assemblies I would close my eyes, cross my fingers, and beg the God of Awards to please, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaassssssssseee give me an award for all of my hard work. And yet, EVERY FUCKING TIME it would be somebody else. Every birthday, every shooting star, every fucking 11:11 that ever occurred in the time span of my academic career, I wished that I would be recognized for my hard work. 

 It would be TEN FUCKING YEARS before I would ever become close to being recognized once more.

It came in the mail my sophomore year, a letter telling me I was going to be awarded something very  special in an upcoming award ceremony , and I went fucking crazy.

“FUCKKKKKK YEAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! THIS IS IT, CLAIRE. YOU DID IT! YOU ARE PROBABLY GOING TO GET THE AWARD FOR BEST KID OF THE FUCKING CENTURY! THAT’S WHY YOU NEVER GOT THOSE OTHER AWARDS! THEY WERE WAITING UNTILL NOW TO GIVE YOU THE MOST PRESTEGOUS AWARD OF THEM ALL!” I would say to myself in the mirror in the days leading up to the ceremony. I showed everyone my paper. “Look guys!! Look at this shit! I am going to be awarded! Fuck you all! I rock!” and they would just roll their eyes fully aware of what I had coming for me, (as I was apparently the only one who had never gotten this sheet of paper before).

So the night of the ceremony I was flyin’ higher than Snoop Dog in the 90’s. I got all dressed up and did my hair and I couldn’t even eat I was so nervous and excited.  My next door neighbor and I were going together, as she had gotten an invitation to the awards ceremony too. The whole car ride to the ceremony I was bragging about how hard I’ve worked and how I was so excited to finally be getting recognized, and she just nodded her head like you are supposed to when a pretentious asshole starts to brag about themselves. 

So we get there, and there are a hundred other kids seated with us.

Well, fuck. I thought. I’m going to have to make a speech in front of all these assholes that I hate.

When it started, our valedictorian made a little speech (I made sure to mock her in my head for being such a smart little high achieving stupid seal tit of a human being) and then the principle started calling up names of people to come get their certificates.  First my neighbor went up and got SIX FUCKING AWARDS for her achievements in debate and Latin or some stupid shit like that.  This made me nervous. I really had one-up her. It’s ok though, I thought, because I figured I was still going to receive best student of the century.

So my name finally gets called. My knees were shaking, I was so full of anticipation. My whole life I had waited for this moment, built it up in my head, bragged about it to everyone that I had come into contact with. “FOR OUTSTANDING ACADEMIC ACHEIVEMENT IN GYM CLASS!!!” He shouted into the microphone.

WHAT.

THE.

FUCK.

I was completely and utterly blindsided. Was this a fucking joke? GYM CLASS?? FUCKING GYM CLASS??

Tears were welling up in my eyes in embarrassment. They were giving me an award for not even ATHLETIC achievement in gym class (some other kid got that) but ACADEMIC achievement in gym class. What fucking bullshit. I was shaking my head, furious, as I walked up on stage. I might as well have been getting the award for biggest asshole of the year. All the kids in the front row were snickering at the embarrassment they knew was my life.

I grabbed the certificate, jumped of the stage, crumpled it up, threw it on the floor, and walked out the door right then and there. I couldn’t face my parents, my neighbor, anyone, I was in such a fury of emotions.  I walked home that night, two fucking miles in high heels and a dress.

The next day at school was such an embarrassment, as all of my friends knew what I had received. Eventually they stopped harassing me, and my neighbor, god bless her soul, never said a word about it.

From this experience I learned a very important life lesson. The Award God whole heartedly enjoys shitting on people’s faces.

Especially mine.

GUESS WHO’S BACK! Just guess.

“I’m bored out of my fucking mind.”

“Go read a book”

“I’m sick of reading.”

“Go watch house hunters. You like that show, right?”

“Seen ‘em all.”

“Go do one of your hobbies”

“Done ‘em all”

“Go start a blog”

“I did that already”

“Well then go write a blog post.”

“...ok.”

This was a conversation between me and my hot boyfriend. JUST KIDDING. I don't have a boyfriend. It was just me talking to myself.

Wait. Did I already use that joke? Probably.

Anyways, I recently quit my job because my boss is a huge whorebag, which leaves me at home, all day, by myself.

And I’m poor. So that doesn’t help.

At first this was fun, and I enjoyed sleeping in and doing whatever my little heart desired. But it took three days before I had, in fact, done everything my little heart desired (which included getting a book from the library and taking my dog to the dog park.)  

It has gotten to the point where I consider putting on pants a “big ordeal”, so I mostly just watch re-runs on HDTV and sing desperate songs of loneliness to my dog.  

My favorite part of the day is going to the gym. Not because I like to work out, but because I have to sneak around to avoid my whorebag boss and it kind of feels like I’m a ninja-assassin-spy.

So that is fun.

Anyways, in order to save my sanity and make myself feel like I am being a productive member of society, I have decided to start blogging again. In other words, I’M BACK, BITCHES!

The last post

Hi friends. 

It is with regret that I tell you that I no longer have the energy and/or motivation to continue my blog:( 

My senioritis has stretched far beyond the means of homework and studying. Anything anyone expects me to do these days I can just no longer handle. Writing funny blog posts about my not-so-interesting life and making it sound cooler than it actually is was once incredibly entertaining to me, but now it's like "UGGHHHH WAHHH I DON'T WANT TO WRITE STUFF!!! I JUST WANT TO SIT IN MY UNDERPANTS AND WATCH RERUNS OF GOLDEN GIRLS AND EAT SPAGHETTI AND PRINGLES WAHHHHHHHHH!!"

Don't worry though! Whenever you feel in need of a good old chuckle, just come back and look at all those funny cat pictures I have put up!

I am also doing this because I need to catch up on some social interaction/time outdoors,as my daily experiences are pretty much limited to school and playing on the computer. I shall try to broaden my horizons by dipping into some new hobbies, such as archery, civil war reinactments, banjo playing, treasure hunting, ice sculpting, ghost hunting, or sewing pin cushions. Maybe I'll even open up my very own pawn shop!

Hopefully I will live a lot and do a lot and have a lot of fun so next time I start a blog I won't run out of stuff to talk about by the eleventh post....


I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

claire


P.S.-I want you to say goodbye to some friends:

(Garfeild)

(Middle finger guy--my hero)

(Butter cat)

They will all miss you vey much....


Especially this guy <3 (down here vv)

If I could I would have it pop out of the screen and lick you right on the face, because that is how much I love you :)

ok for realz this time....BYEEEEEEEEEE <3