So. You may have heard about all this stuff about household items that will smooth skin/erase acne/make your hair shiny/make your hair strong/whiten your teeth/etc/etc/etc.
It's a trap.
I decided to try one of these natural remedies for fun--this morning I decided to put egg in my hair, let it sit, and then wash it out. Cause, you know, it's supposed to make your hair shiny and soft. I figured it could be cool. Fun. A good time.
So in went the egg. I squished it around some, got my hair all coated. Good times. Let it sit about 5 minutes. Then I went to wash it out, and everything was fine.
Or so I thought.
I got out of the shower, put my hair in a towel turban while I went about my business. After a few minutes I took my hair out, finger combed it without really looking at it, as per usual, then happened to glance down at my fingers. They were covered with white flecks of cooked egg.
Cooked. Egg.
Then I realized: I'm one of those people that takes incredibly hot showers, like burn-the-top-layer-of-skin-off hot. And so that, kiddies, is the story of how I cooked an egg on my head. In the shower. But you know what? My hair is super duper shiny right now.
Close enough.
In other news:
Monday, September 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Rolling Stones? Psh. Let's talk rolling oranges. And spirits. That too.
So, I promised a story about an orange, a close encounter with the feathery kind, and a mystery, did I not?
Well, I admit that I forgot the mystery. So sorry. But I have a recipe for you instead, so you know what? Deal with it. Let's get this recipe worked out before we get to the nitty gritty of this post, kay? Kay. Who likes peanut butter?? YOU DO! And if you don't... then just skip to the break.
So this recipe. It's delicious. Like, out of this world, I think my taste buds just started jiving delicious. What, you ask, is this amazing food? Microwavable cake. Yeah. So when you're sitting there at nine thinking "Aw, man! I totally want dessert, but it's soooo much work to get the oven on, and jeeze, what is a gal/guy to do?" you just do this. Do this, and be amazed.
So, here's what you're gonna do. Grab a bowl. In that bowl you're going to mix together the following:
Then, oh, then you eat it. Mmmm. Personally, it was a little too much for me, because it's super rich, so I would eat half of this at a sitting, and share the rest with someone else. You know, pass the love around.
Try not to drool on them. That's too much love.
Now, for the stories. These both took place in the last few weeks of PLNU life [Wah! It's been so long! (;°_°;)]
So I'm walking down to my room, heading towards a long hill I refer affectionately to as "Flex Hill." I notice a flash of orange to my right, and I ready myself for a ninja and/or pirate attack, but--what's this?? An orange?
"Well hello," I greeted Orange-chan. "Where did you come from?"
Orange-chan didn't answer. Instead she rolled alongside me for a moment before hitting a bump and speeding away. I admit my feelings were a bit hurt, but I figured that she would hit a curb soon enough.
Except that she didn't. No, Orange-chan was smart. She CURVED. And continued on down the hill. I watched her until she disappeared into the horizon.
A couple of days after that, I had possibly one of the weirdest experiences of my life.
I was walking to yoga class, right? It was morning, I'd slept well, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, that crow was walking towards me--wait. I stopped walking, watched the large crow walking towards me. He kept walking. I stood there looking derpy.
This is where it gets freaky.
He came up to me and--I kid you not--NODDED at me, freaking bobbed his head up and down in my direction, then continued on walking past me, directly down the middle of the sidewalk. I looked derpy for about thirty more seconds, just watching him walk.
Somehow, those windex commercials seem so real now.
Well, I admit that I forgot the mystery. So sorry. But I have a recipe for you instead, so you know what? Deal with it. Let's get this recipe worked out before we get to the nitty gritty of this post, kay? Kay. Who likes peanut butter?? YOU DO! And if you don't... then just skip to the break.
So this recipe. It's delicious. Like, out of this world, I think my taste buds just started jiving delicious. What, you ask, is this amazing food? Microwavable cake. Yeah. So when you're sitting there at nine thinking "Aw, man! I totally want dessert, but it's soooo much work to get the oven on, and jeeze, what is a gal/guy to do?" you just do this. Do this, and be amazed.
So, here's what you're gonna do. Grab a bowl. In that bowl you're going to mix together the following:
- 2 T peanut butter
- 1 rounded T flour
- 1 egg
- 1 T brown sugar
- 1/2 tsp baking powder
- A small to moderate handful of chocolate chips (Okay, these aren't necessary, but I love Reese's Cups as much as the next person. More, probably.)
Then, oh, then you eat it. Mmmm. Personally, it was a little too much for me, because it's super rich, so I would eat half of this at a sitting, and share the rest with someone else. You know, pass the love around.
Try not to drool on them. That's too much love.
_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_
Now, for the stories. These both took place in the last few weeks of PLNU life [Wah! It's been so long! (;°_°;)]
So I'm walking down to my room, heading towards a long hill I refer affectionately to as "Flex Hill." I notice a flash of orange to my right, and I ready myself for a ninja and/or pirate attack, but--what's this?? An orange?
"Well hello," I greeted Orange-chan. "Where did you come from?"
Orange-chan didn't answer. Instead she rolled alongside me for a moment before hitting a bump and speeding away. I admit my feelings were a bit hurt, but I figured that she would hit a curb soon enough.
Except that she didn't. No, Orange-chan was smart. She CURVED. And continued on down the hill. I watched her until she disappeared into the horizon.
 |
| It went down like this. For reals. |
A couple of days after that, I had possibly one of the weirdest experiences of my life.
I was walking to yoga class, right? It was morning, I'd slept well, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, that crow was walking towards me--wait. I stopped walking, watched the large crow walking towards me. He kept walking. I stood there looking derpy.
This is where it gets freaky.
He came up to me and--I kid you not--NODDED at me, freaking bobbed his head up and down in my direction, then continued on walking past me, directly down the middle of the sidewalk. I looked derpy for about thirty more seconds, just watching him walk.
 |
| No. No I do not care for a walk. |
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Kung Fu Manicure and Nail Panda...wait.
So yesterday I got a manicure--myfirstone!--and it was pretty awesome :D (Thanks Sandi!!) I hadn't realized there was so much in getting acrylic nails on... it was intense.
I mean, it started out the way I imagined: file my nails, get the bumps out of them, stick on the tips. Then, I figured it was just a matter of painting the tips, putting on an overcoat, then I'd be out the door!
Ha. Wrong.
She used a cool powder/liquid combo that works like a gel, which got dabbed on into the design I wanted. Then She filled in the rest of the nail with a clear powder/gel thing. So, right now my nails are like 1/8 inch thick. It's intense.
But that's not all! After that, she got the basic design down, she pulled out a handy sander, and shaped the nails to my liking. Then she did the fantastic little flower design, using a brush that had maybe one bristle in it, then switched to a needle for the half circle dot pattern. I thought I'd be done after that, but no! They she painted a gel over my nails, stuck a rhinestone into the center of the flower, and stuck my hands in the dryer--after a few minutes there, she put another coat of clear gel on, and put my hand back in.
Finally, I got a nice selling finish put on that made my nails shiny!
As you can probably tell, I'm fascinated by the process. :D
After that, we went to see Kung Fu Panda 2. I loved it! It's rare that a sequel does as well as its predecessor, but in my opinion, this far out shined the first. I mean, I liked the first, it was great, but this one was fantastic. It was formulaic, yes, but it was a well done formula, and it left an opening for a third, if they so choose. I would go see it, if I were you--wait, I already did! lawls.
Anyway, tune in next time for the humorous escapade of an orange, my almost being spirited away, and mystery!
I mean, it started out the way I imagined: file my nails, get the bumps out of them, stick on the tips. Then, I figured it was just a matter of painting the tips, putting on an overcoat, then I'd be out the door!
Ha. Wrong.
She used a cool powder/liquid combo that works like a gel, which got dabbed on into the design I wanted. Then She filled in the rest of the nail with a clear powder/gel thing. So, right now my nails are like 1/8 inch thick. It's intense.
But that's not all! After that, she got the basic design down, she pulled out a handy sander, and shaped the nails to my liking. Then she did the fantastic little flower design, using a brush that had maybe one bristle in it, then switched to a needle for the half circle dot pattern. I thought I'd be done after that, but no! They she painted a gel over my nails, stuck a rhinestone into the center of the flower, and stuck my hands in the dryer--after a few minutes there, she put another coat of clear gel on, and put my hand back in.
Finally, I got a nice selling finish put on that made my nails shiny!
As you can probably tell, I'm fascinated by the process. :D
 |
| My nails! (They double as claws/a backscratcher/a distraction to those with ADD) In case you're wondering, it is indeed very difficult to type/put in contacts/do anything hardcore with them on. :P |
Anyway, tune in next time for the humorous escapade of an orange, my almost being spirited away, and mystery!
Friday, April 22, 2011
Is it just me or...? (A defense of vampires)
Do vampires have a really bad rap? (Yes, I know they're not real, but bear with me.)
I mean, I was talking to some very dear and sweet people from my church tonight--they'll remain unnamed for protection purposes--and they asked me what I wanted to do after college (the most hated question of all time). I mentioned that I was working on a novel, and would like to be able to support myself that way. The conversation went a little like this:
Them: Oh! What kind of book is it?
Me: Erm. Well, it's about a Japanese vampire... who works as a detective. Sorta. And it's about his coming to terms with his own humanity.
I mean, I was talking to some very dear and sweet people from my church tonight--they'll remain unnamed for protection purposes--and they asked me what I wanted to do after college (the most hated question of all time). I mentioned that I was working on a novel, and would like to be able to support myself that way. The conversation went a little like this:
Them: Oh! What kind of book is it?
Me: Erm. Well, it's about a Japanese vampire... who works as a detective. Sorta. And it's about his coming to terms with his own humanity.
Them: Hm.
Me: Eh... and you know, it'll be sorta philosophical.
Them: A vampire.
Me: Ahh.... yeah.
Them: Oh did you hear about --totally unrelated subject--
And while I understand that most people imagine anything vampire as either Twilight, True Blood, and Blade/Underworld/Dracula 2000, I still don't understand why people get stuck at the word vampire. I mean, sure, they're somewhat malevolent creatures, usually painted as hyper-sexualized nymphos (which I don't understand the physicalities of, seeing as a dude needs blood to... you know...), and they tend to stalk their objects of affection...
Okay, never mind, I see why people are weirded out by them. I mean, I love the idea of a vampire, but I don't really care for most of the modern vampire fiction/movies, except for maybe Daywalkers. That was a good movie.
Here's my point: vampires are like super-people. They're written the way people (in general) would be if they had immense strength, insatiable thirst for life itself, and didn't have anything that could stop them (kinda like if Andre the Giant took steroids). But they're sensual/spiritual, not sexual, in my opinion.
Why? Okay, let's think back a bit. In legend people believed that blood held special properties, that the blood was tied to the soul, that a balance of humors would lead to health, etc, etc, etc. Basically, blood was life, life was blood. Vampires were thought to be soulless creatures of pure evil, that wanted nothing more than to drink blood. Hang with me for a moment, this next bit is a doozy.
There is nothing more sensual and spiritual than sharing your blood (life) with another creature to keep them alive. (You could argue this as sexual, I suppose, since it's an exchange of liquids, penetration, etc, but honestly, there is no work of literature that you can't interpret as either sexual or a Jesus story or both. Go read the poem Goblin Market, you'll see what I mean). HOWEVER: the fact remains that there is an exchange of life, either stolen or freely given, either of which being very sensual.
So. If humans were to strive to be Godlike (or morally correct, or whatever), and vampires existed, willingly giving a vampire your blood to keep them alive would be akin to God giving Adam and Eve the Garden of Eden, and a vampire stealing blood would be like Lulu (Sorry, that's my nickname for Satan) doing all that bad stuff to Job to try and take Job's spiritual side away from him. And that is why I like vampires. You can't do much better than giving your own life for someone else.
In conclusion: This is why people should donate blood. It's sort of like vampirism, but with less germs. Vampires don't brush their teeth, you know.
(I need to not write blog posts when I'm tired. I get weird. Also, there was supposed to be a really cool, spiritual point in here somewhere... Hm.)
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Cool story brah... (possible TMI--yeah, like that'll stop ya)
You know those bras that clip in front?
Yeah, they're super-comfy and all, great as a work out bra for not-well-endowed women. I love mine, and it's great to wear during yoga, when I have to contort in weird positions. You know, until the effing bra comes undone in the middle of a reverse-prayer-twist-of-doom.
Yeah, that's right. Hello world.
I kept that position for a moment (imagine a knees-together squat, with your hands in a prayer-like position, with your torso twisted so your left elbow is on your right knee) and tried to figure out what to do. Sure, I was in the back of the yoga class, but we only take up half the gym. The other half was filled with guys playing basketball.
I had a sudden flash of insight: the first day of yoga, I bumped my nose during child's pose, and out fountained a stream of blood--weak nose vessels. I grabbed my nose with both hands, elbows firmly keeping the you-know-whats pressed into my chest. And then, pretending like my nose was trying to gush blood, head tilted back (yes, I know that's the wrong thing to do for a nosebleed, unless you want to drink your own blood from your nasal cavities, but that's the stereotypical nosebleed pose), I stumbled across the gym, up the stairs, and to the bathroom.
Here's where it gets intense. The bra thing was easy to remedy: a quick snap into place and I was fine. But obviously my nose wasn't bleeding, and I was awkwardly standing in the bathroom, and my feet were getting cold, so I did the first stupid thing I could think of. I'd cut myself shaving earlier (yes, this was a great day), so I jabbed at the scab a little, grabbed a paper towel, and transferred a bit of my luscious red DNA to it.
I am nothing if not thorough in my deceptions.
I walked proudly out of that bathroom, delicately dabbing at my nose, checking for blood. And by golly, there was blood on that paper towel. No one has to know that it was ankle blood, not nose blood.
And you know what? I freaking got away with it. Victory!
Yeah, they're super-comfy and all, great as a work out bra for not-well-endowed women. I love mine, and it's great to wear during yoga, when I have to contort in weird positions. You know, until the effing bra comes undone in the middle of a reverse-prayer-twist-of-doom.
Yeah, that's right. Hello world.
I kept that position for a moment (imagine a knees-together squat, with your hands in a prayer-like position, with your torso twisted so your left elbow is on your right knee) and tried to figure out what to do. Sure, I was in the back of the yoga class, but we only take up half the gym. The other half was filled with guys playing basketball.
I had a sudden flash of insight: the first day of yoga, I bumped my nose during child's pose, and out fountained a stream of blood--weak nose vessels. I grabbed my nose with both hands, elbows firmly keeping the you-know-whats pressed into my chest. And then, pretending like my nose was trying to gush blood, head tilted back (yes, I know that's the wrong thing to do for a nosebleed, unless you want to drink your own blood from your nasal cavities, but that's the stereotypical nosebleed pose), I stumbled across the gym, up the stairs, and to the bathroom.
Here's where it gets intense. The bra thing was easy to remedy: a quick snap into place and I was fine. But obviously my nose wasn't bleeding, and I was awkwardly standing in the bathroom, and my feet were getting cold, so I did the first stupid thing I could think of. I'd cut myself shaving earlier (yes, this was a great day), so I jabbed at the scab a little, grabbed a paper towel, and transferred a bit of my luscious red DNA to it.
I am nothing if not thorough in my deceptions.
I walked proudly out of that bathroom, delicately dabbing at my nose, checking for blood. And by golly, there was blood on that paper towel. No one has to know that it was ankle blood, not nose blood.
And you know what? I freaking got away with it. Victory!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Salute to Brenda
Possibly one of the weirdest things ever happened to me the other day.
I walked around the corner of a building by the university baseball field, and suddenly, everyone stood and turned to me. Then they placed their hands on their hearts, and seemed to be speaking in unison--probably some sort of "Hail Brenda." I pushed pause on my iPod, to better enjoy their praises. Turns out the baseball game was about to start, and the flag was right above me. It was the national anthem.
Awkward.
In other news: I totally just made the most delicious brownies ever. Spray the pan with a non-stick spray, layer oreos two layers high, make brownie mix by using cream instead of water, pour, cook as directed, and enjoy.
It's totally low-cal too... if you only eat a bite... or a half bite.
Yeah. I'm gonna go eat some more... :)
Friday, April 8, 2011
Spam is good with eggs, but not with email.
It was like a scene from a bad chick flick. I'd sent my ex-boyfriend a link to a website for Viagra.
Rewind ten minutes: I stumbled into the living room, just out of bed on the morning of April 1st, and took up residence on my dad's recliner. My mom and I passed pleasantries for a few moments. Then she sighed. You know, that sigh that says "You are in it deep, and I am trying not to laugh."
"I've got a question," she began. "Were you up at 6:45 this morning sending out emails?"
"No," I intoned. "I'm pretty sure I was asleep. Why?"
"Well, I've got an email from 'you.' It has a link to website for Australian cricket." Here her lips pursed, and her eyes slid away from me. It was probably at this moment that my sleep-clouded mind began to assess the situation.
I was in it deep.
"Of course," she continued. "It's actually a link to a website for Viagra. You also sent it to Joe from church, your school email, your father, and a couple of other people I don't know."
I grabbed my Nook and flicked the screen till I got to my mail. There were no new messages in my sent box. I flicked over to my school email. Indeed, there was a message from myself. I checked the other emails it'd been sent to.
Joe from church... fixable.
A high school teacher... fixable.
My prudish ex-boyfriend that barely got to the kiss-on-the-cheek stage after 6 months... Oh dear.
I'm sure there are plenty of girls that would have loved to send their ex a searing love note as such. Considering my ex and I do not talk, and the only reason his email was still on my contacts was because I was too lazy to figure out how to remove it, this was not the case.
After imagining my ex's face, I laughed so hard that I cried, then flew into damage control mode. I sent out a short mass email, jokingly admitting that I had been hacked and/or trolled hard by life. I got a response... from my ex.
"Lol. No offense taken."
Moral of the story: Don't send out sexy spam unless your ex is no longer on your contact list.
Rewind ten minutes: I stumbled into the living room, just out of bed on the morning of April 1st, and took up residence on my dad's recliner. My mom and I passed pleasantries for a few moments. Then she sighed. You know, that sigh that says "You are in it deep, and I am trying not to laugh."
"I've got a question," she began. "Were you up at 6:45 this morning sending out emails?"
"No," I intoned. "I'm pretty sure I was asleep. Why?"
"Well, I've got an email from 'you.' It has a link to website for Australian cricket." Here her lips pursed, and her eyes slid away from me. It was probably at this moment that my sleep-clouded mind began to assess the situation.
I was in it deep.
"Of course," she continued. "It's actually a link to a website for Viagra. You also sent it to Joe from church, your school email, your father, and a couple of other people I don't know."
I grabbed my Nook and flicked the screen till I got to my mail. There were no new messages in my sent box. I flicked over to my school email. Indeed, there was a message from myself. I checked the other emails it'd been sent to.
Joe from church... fixable.
A high school teacher... fixable.
My prudish ex-boyfriend that barely got to the kiss-on-the-cheek stage after 6 months... Oh dear.
I'm sure there are plenty of girls that would have loved to send their ex a searing love note as such. Considering my ex and I do not talk, and the only reason his email was still on my contacts was because I was too lazy to figure out how to remove it, this was not the case.
After imagining my ex's face, I laughed so hard that I cried, then flew into damage control mode. I sent out a short mass email, jokingly admitting that I had been hacked and/or trolled hard by life. I got a response... from my ex.
"Lol. No offense taken."
Moral of the story: Don't send out sexy spam unless your ex is no longer on your contact list.
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