Video Essay

Okay so this is the essay that Christina and I worked on for this class. I hope you guys like it. It took us approximately twelve hours to complete nine minutes of video. Yippee!

Reflejando

I'm relatively certain that means reflecting in Espanol, which is precisely what I am supposed to be doing in this post, as commanded by the High King Teacher Person Dude. That is his full name. Personally, I find it ironic that I am supposed to be blogging a reflection. Why is this ironic? Because my second post, which I think may have actually been my first at one point, was titled "Fall Reflections." This post gags me a little bit. That sad part is, I thought it was like the longest post ever. "Whew, glad to have that monster out of the way," was basically how I felt. Bah! What a wimp! Good God child. I think my longest post ever was the one where I was showing that crazy milk man who is boss. It was like 5 posts and ridiculously long. That was fun too.

Let's see here. What else is there to say? Well, I'm definitely bipolar (or manic-depressive, as we have previously discussed). Somewhere during second term I went through this crazy blogging phase and ended up having like 3000 words more than were required for my class. It was, simply put, insane. This past term I've definitely been in the "depressive" phase. I've barely even made the minimum requirement. That is why I have to write approximately a thousand words on my fancy little blog today. I was, oh, 2400 words behind at the start of the weekend. That is a bit of a problem, isn't it?

Let's get back to the reflecting though, shall we? Seeing as I'm not really good at this type of stuff I'm going to look at a few suggestions. I could talk about if I've ever done anything like this before… Sounds good. Nope. I haven't ever done anything like this. I think it is pretty cool though. Even though in two weeks only 215 people have looked at my blog, it is still pretty cool to think that people I've never known, nor will ever know, have read my writing. It is akin to being a famous author! Except for the famous part, of course. You know what I mean.

Another little prompt: do I think I'll continue writing on this wonderful piece of literature? Let's be perfectly honest with each other, shall we? I always feel honesty is the best policy. I would like to continue blogging, and my state of mind right now is that I will. But the problem with me is that I'm a procrastinator of the worst type, and kind of lazy. If blogging isn't required, it probably won't happen very much. Maybe every once in a while I'll pop in and see how things are going in Bloggerland. That's just what I envision happening. It is always possible that I'll go into my manic phase once summer starts and blog up a storm all summer long. That would be nice, wouldn't it? I'm glad you agree. I suppose we can always hope. Just warning you though, it is possible that I will never blog again in my life. Don't think I died or anything, I just stopped blogging. If that turns out to be the case, I guess this is goodbye isn't it? Goodbye faithful readers. It has been nice.

Jimmy Johns!

I did a bit of research and found the commercial that I was talking aboot. Turns out the stupid little sun/face thing is embedded in a sandwich. But that really isn't the important part. What matters is how annoying it is. The end. Hope you hate it as much as I do! (I bet you don't hear that very often.)

Advertissements

    I'm pretty sure this actually isn't the way you spell advertisements in any language, but it definitely looks like it could be French or something doesn't it? Yeah, I thought so too. I'm glad you agree. Why did I title my blog this way? Just because it would look way more cool than it would were it in English (was that good grammar? Doubtful. Whatever). But the reason I'm writing this post is mainly to complain. You see, I HATE advertisements.

Commercials are some of the most obvious and stupid. Every tv show is either around 22 minutes or 45, depending on whether it is supposed to be 30 or 60 minutes. This means that only two thirds of your show is actually… your show. How stupid is this? Real stupid. Why waste so much time on dumb little commercials. One of my least favorite commercials is the one for Jimmy Johns. You may or may not have seen it. It is horrible. It is a little face thing flying through the air screaming. It continues to scream. It really doesn't stop. Just keeps going and going. On and on. Forever and ever. Kind of like this ramble I'm doing for you. It is that annoying and more, my friends. Then it stops! It is blessed peace for about 3 seconds. Then the stupid face/sun thing starts screaming and crying all over again. And then it implants itself in, well, something. I can't tell. But it really isn't important what it is implanted in. Then it goes Jimmy Johns! Or something. I dunno. I hate it. It is the stupidest thing ever. The end.

Another bothersome thing is ads in publications. Especially magazines. Goodness Gracious. They make me angry. I get excited when my magazine is like 200 pages long. Then I start going through and it is practically none of what I think it should be about and mostly about all these random products and stupid prescription medicines. Those are the worst because they have to include a whole page, or two, of all of their stupid warnings and things that go wrong when you take them. If they are so bad are they really worth fixing whatever they're fixing? And a lot of times they don't even work anyway. I think prescription medicines that aren't morphine are overrated. Personally. Anyway back to my magazine complaint.

One time I decided to count how many pages were actual magazine and how many were ads. Over half of the magazine was ads. How completely and totally annoying. What they should do is stick all the ads in the back so that if you want you can peruse them at your leisure. Not just sneakily slip the slimy stupid things everywhere. It is such a pain. I feel really whiny right now, but oh well. It feels good to get this off my chest. Plus, I need to write about a thousand more words today for my blog so I'm feeling kind of pressured, and most of the posts that will be posted today are going to suck, just a warning. But you'll still love me, right?

 

My Lovely Job

I work at the Hy-Vee Salad Bar. It is by far the most interesting job I have ever had, though I bet some people would tell me my job history sucks after saying that. Despite the possibly chagrined comments, I like it.

Back at the salad bar, which unfortunately is maintained between 40 and 50 degrees all day long, we make all of the Di Lusso salads, bagel pizzas, fruit pizzas, and other things generally involving cold food preparation. We also, rather obviously, take care of the stuff inside the... salad bar.

The Di Lusso salads are those slightly over priced pre made salads that look oh-so-delicious. Unbelievably, we sell around 25 different types of salad. I've worked there for three weeks and I've only made around 10 kinds, but I'll try to give you a rundown of our most popular (as if you care). Okay here goes. We have: Garden, Fiesta Chicken, Fiesta Beef, Cobb, Frutto Formaggio, Chicken Club, Chicken Caesar, Homestyle Chef's, Spinach, Greek, Black and Bleu, 7-Layer. Those are all of the types I can think of off the of my head. I'll try to keep you updated on this headline making news. But for now its back to Cabrito (that would be me again) for the weather.

Note: I actually did spell bleu right up above, so if you thought you were some super smart editor of the New York Times, think again. Bleu as in bleu cheese. And you know what? If Bleu cheese is really spelled blue cheese I don't care. Bleu is what the label says and I think the label should be trusted. It is in print and its being circulated around the country, and everybody knows that if its in writing its completely true. Except for if some loser politician writes it, then you know its probably false.

The weather today looks absolutely fantastic but I don't think that that is important or on topic good sir. Back to you for the headline making news.

But by the way, I really don't like my job. It is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boring. The end!

Okay People, This is sad

By the way I'm actually writing this post on the 27th, not the 23, but I figure my reflection post should be last. I was thinking today about how I was proud I had made it up to 2400 words, which is 8 posts with 300 words each, and was our generic requirement. I always do less posts because then I can ramble more about one topic rather than write about a bunch of different topics. As I was sitting thinking about how good I am to have caught up in a one day blogfest I realized something. It should be 400 words, not 300. Oh no. This puts me 800 words behind, which is the equivalent of two posts. Which means two points down the tubes. Which means that now I am here blogging away trying to catch up so that I can get a good grade in this class for once. So here I am. Typing away listlessly. Tired out of my mind. Yay for blogging! Ooh! Guys! I'm at 180 words already, this is good. This is very good. I'm one fourth of the way done!

Just in case anyone was wondering, Embroz is over there frightening a poor young lassie to death. He's telling her this might all be a flash or something. It is a bit distracting. I'm not sure I understand either, but hey. By writing this in here I've probably gotten about 50 more words. Only 550 to go!

So me and my neighborfriend Hanna started watching Lost season one on abc.com last year. Want to know how to get there, just in case you want to watch it sometime? Yeah, I figured you would. First you go to http://www.abc.com. Then you click on the Free Episodes link, which I think is in red. It will open a little box type thing with all of the abc.com shows that you can watch for free. There are quite a few but Lost is the one we are looking for. Click on that, you might have to download the movie player thing but it doesn't take long at all so it shouldn't be a big deal. Once that happens it will take you to the Lost homepage thing and from there you can select the season and episode. The earlier episodes are on the bottom, though, so don't let that trip you up like it almost did to me. Once you click on your episode you will have to choose whether you want standard streaming or High Def. I always do Hi Def but I'm guessing it doesn't really matter. By the way, Emma thinks it is creepy to watch shows online, but really it isn't. Feel free to do it.

Zoom Zoom

NOTE: Blogger is being an immature two year old right now, and will not function properly. The pictures are in the order in which they are mentioned, except reversed. So switch the top and bottom images and you will have it right. Just refer to the top when it seems like I might have been hinting at a picture. Kthxbai.

See this lovely little piece of technology? What is it, you ask? It is a Nike+ sensor, of course. I'm going to tell you all about it.

So you buy the sensor, and if you have a second generation iPod touch then the sensor is $20 and that's that. You're ready to go. If you have an iPod nano it is $15 more expensive because you have to buy a wireless hooky uppy thinger. And that is technical talk, I'm sorry if you didn't understand all of it.

Once you have the sensor you turn on your iPod touch and go to settings. Click on the Nike+ button and you will be able to slide a little switch to the "on" position, which will place a Nike+ icon on your home screen. The next step is putting in your gender and weight, followed by syncing your sensor with your iPod so they can talk to eachother. It's really easy, all you have to do is walk around while the iPod just chills there searching for it. Then once it has found it, they are linked. Easy peazy.

The coolest part about it is the website that you are allowed to sign up for upon purchasing a sensor. Actually, you might not even have to purchase one, I'm not sure. Maybe you should go check and then comment back here so I know? I think that sounds just marvelous (this word, marvelous, must be said in a British accent. Don't Forget). But you will. Nobody ever listens to me. It's okay though. I often ignore myself too.

The website though. That is what I was trying to discuss. Once you've signed up and everything it has a bunch of handy little tools to make sure that you stay healthy and running and walking and all those other wonderful little things. My favorite part is when it graphs your most recent run. It is very cool. You don't believe me? Well I'll show you.

Anyway. Isn't this neat? It shows your average speed over time! Now this one looks a lot worse than is normal for me, just so you know. I took a quick stand break in the middle before I ran again because I had just walked up this big steep hill and I wanted a break, okay? I forgot to pause my workout so... it graphed me standing still for like 30 seconds. But I know what it means, and so do you, so I'll try not to worry about it too much.

It also does something like this except it shows all of your runs. Here, another picture. I'm just going picture crazy today. I can't help it.

See? This shows how many runs I've done and on which date, and how long they were. So far my longest is only 2.2 miles but... By the end of my training thing (a picture of which will no doubt end up on here before this post is over) I'll be scheduled to run three miles. The thing is, the people who plan out the training obviously don't expect people to actually run as long as they are supposed to. My very last day of training say "walk 5, run 30, walk 5." Now, I don't know about you but 40 minutes and three miles? You have to be running like 1 inch per minute to take that long. So it'll probably end up being like 5 miles. When they say one it ends up being two so I figure a scheduled three will be five or six. That's cool. I need the exercise. I haven't legitimately exercised, other than on vacations, since eighth grade. So I suppose I'll be making up for it.

Also, when you are looking at this graph you can highlight one of your runs to see average time and calories burned and everything. Here, why don't I show you.

Neat, huh? I'm glad you agree. So the run pictures you've been seeing are all from yesterday. It was pretty tiring because it was 86 degrees and 40% humidity. Which made it feel really hot. And sucky. But I'll complain about it more to you later. I have places to go and people to see.

Another neat little feature is the training. That is the fourth picture, by the way. You can choose from different programs, or decide to make your own. Mine is called "Walk to Run". Which basically means that you start out walking (duh) and by the end are running more. It not only has you start running but it increases over time from one to three miles. As I've mentioned already towards the end you have a run thirty minutes. This seems like a lot to me. I've probably only run 20 minutes without stopping before and I was going really slow so. I don't know if it qualifies exactly. But this training program sort of eases you into it by gradually having you run more often, and making every other day really easy (only one minute of running). I think it is kind of fun, personally. And when it tells you all the calories you've burned that's always nice too when you're as fat as I am. Did you know that 3000 calories is equivalent to one pound of fat? That means I'm one pound lighter than I would have been if I wasn't running with my sensor dealio. Good stuff.

Personally I think everyone should have one of these sensors, even if you don't have the special shoe that Nike wants you to buy. You can just stick the little sensor under your shoelaces or anywhere really. Be creative. It's totally worth the $20 or $35 dollars. Completely. K that's the end.

Oh!

So I came to my website today and realized that people don't hate me quite as much as originally thought.

In... lets see... hmmm.. four days I had 44 views! Now, we must keep in mind that two of them were me. But that is still 42 (different) people that looked at my blog! Could this possibly mean that somebody I don't even know looked at my blog? That prospect is a bit too exciting for me. That averages out to over ten people per day. I'm oh so proud. Probably it was just a fluke and the counter will stop going up, but... I can understand. I have the counter set so that it only counts unique computers so maybe everyone that ever planned on reading my blog already has and the counter won't go up. But if I change the counter so that it shows page views then it is guaranteed to always go up because of those dedicated readers that just can't stop coming back. Its irresistable. Plus, it will count me every time I look at it so that'll be a morale booster. But it won't be very accurate so I may just leave it like this. If I have to change it, though, I will. You have been warned.

I Passed The Test

What test, you ask? Maybe the most important test ever in my life. My friend Oliver came up with these tests. I used to hate them because she was always dumb about them. And made things up that weren't even true. And then told me I failed. It made me grumpy.

These tests were collectively known as the gentleman tests. They were always annoying and not fair, and stupid.

The good news is that I have been passing more than failing recently. In fact, I haven't failed in a while. I passed one this morning too. I held the door open for her. So there. I passed.

That is pretty much all for this post. There really isn't much you can come up with to say about opening a door for someone.

MMMMMMMMMM

So I got bored and google-searched food in the blogs section. And guess what. I found this person that wanted the grossest foods every and I was reading the comments when I found a link to this place. I was like. Oh dear. That. That is. Strange...? Baconnaise? Weirdest thing ever! I'm a little bit disturbed. The weird thing is it might not actually be that bad. I love bacon. It is an unhealthy love, but no matter. Bacon is delicious. But I really can't see myself wanting bacon on everything ever. That would be excessive, to say the least. That said, I probably would try it if someone gave me a jar. Maybe you should give me a jar... Give me one!

This is what my blogging has come to... I'm ashamed. Whatever!

Is Anyone Home?

See. I get this feeling that nobody actually reads my blog except for The Salad Bar Queen. Nobody actually cares. To prove this to the world and myself, I have put a hit counter on the side. To get this hit counter for free I had to leave the link about loans.com or something stupid. Everyone knows that people that get payday loans have to pay really high interest and it isn't a good thing. If you want you can click on it, but feel free to ignore it. It is most likely a crappy website anyway. Might even give you a virus.

Guess what! I'm totally and completely and wholly blogged out. Quick sidenote, I used to think wholly was pronounced wally and I never knew what it meant until I asked my dad one time. Turns out parents actually are good for something more than birthday presents. Even if it isn't very often. Oh and I'm getting new Xbox Live for my birthday which means I can get a new account. And Oliver is reaaaaallly jealous.

But about the blogged out part. Remember how I said one time that I was manic-depressive? No, you don't, because you don't exist, remember? Which means you never read my post, duh. But I'm definitely going through the depressive, creativity-free time period. So all of my posts are worthless garbage. It is like having writers block but not being able to take a break, because then I would fail my classes. So I have to fight through the pain or something. So really, I can understand why nobody in the entire world wants to read my blog. But PLEASE, if you actually do exist, follow my blog. This is important people. To my life. What if I end up getting so depressed that I jump off of a bridge. That would be YOUR fault. So. Follow me. Please. You don't even have to read it, none of my other followers do, but just follow me!

Happy Birthday To Me!

This is not relevant to my supposed topic but who cares? I don't care. It is my birthday and I'm excited. It isn't even that great of a birthday, 17, but it is good in one way. I get my big-kid license (what is it called? Permanent? Intermediate? I don't even know). This means that I can speed as much as I want with the only punishment being a ticket and a fine. No loss of license or probation or whatever it is they do to people that are 16 for speeding these days. Which is totally fitting because Embroz was definitely almost tailgating me today as I drove to school because he thought I was going too slow. Well too bad because it would be completely ironic and totally depressing to lose my not-so-big-kid license today, the day I can get a big kid license. So I made sure I didn't go more than 3 over the limit, just to be safe. And it was totally justified in my mind, not only because it is the law, but because I was warned recently that cops have been very active around my school because whiney babies that live around there have been complaining about speeders. My friends friend got pulled over and got a ticket for going 2 over. That is ridiculous.



This all reminds me of this one time, about a month and a half or two months after I got my first license. I was driving myself back to my house from a camping trip at Strawberry Point when I got a phone call. I had just learned how to use my cruise control (I had always thought it was broken or nonexistent so I'd never used it). I was cruising along at pretty much exactly the speed limit just to be safe. While I was on the phone I was inadvertently resting my foot on the gas pedal. I wasn't overly worried because I figured cruise control stopped you from speeding up no matter what you did. Wrong. You can speed it up with the gas pedal. Since I thought I knew that the speed wouldn't change I wasn't bothering to look at my speedometer, especially since I was on the phone. I happened to look down after a while and noticed that I was going about 90 miles an hour. The speed limit was 55. I didn't even know my car could go that fast! It is a piece of crap that can barely make it up steep hills and accellerates very slowly. Apparently my car is the little engine that could or whatever. It may huff and puff to make it up a big hill but when its straight and flat, it can really go.

And guess what! I have swine flu! No just kidding I don't. But i definitely have all of the symptoms except for the fever. So maybe I have the regular flu. But I JUST freaking had the flu like a month ago and my cough never fully went away and now here I am coughing and dying all over again. And I hate it. A lot. And I'm not even blabbering about anything important anymore so I guess it is time to put this little post out into the real world and let it fight for its life.

Funny Update

These Irish people, I tell ya. They are some funny kids. Two of them were talking about how Americans say stupid things. I'm sure Irish people say stupid things too. Goodness gracious. But it isn't funny if americans whine about irish people, its only funny if it is the other way around. One of them just kept saying pooooteeetos kind of like that except you would have to hear them to get the full effect. The other one was like lucky chams (UK people don't know how to say their r's). that wasn't as funny as the one who said potatoes over and over. I couldn't stop laughing. And I just thought you should know this, maybe you could search irish person saying potatoes on youtube.com or something. do it. kthxbai.

Hanna Floofenplogger

I have this neighbor. Me and my neighbor are friends. But on one thing we do not get along. She likes Bush. I sit here and think to myself, Bush was so dumb, he did practically nothing good. People in other countries think we're stupid, all of us, because of Bush. But Hanna likes him. Want to know why she likes him? Because her parents did. Her parents are generally smart people, so it comes as a surprise that they would think that he is smart. Nobody thinks he's smart unless they are in denial. He was alright through 9/11 but after that he just had fail after epic fail. He also cannot properly speak the english language. It is pathetic. One would expect the president of an english speaking country would be able to speak english, but apparently that was too much. And then he got reelected. But anyway, I try to avoid politics because there will always be stupid people thinking stupid things and believing in other people and their stupid things. So whatever.

But while I play xbox I tend to look for anyone, and befriend anyone, with a cool accent. Half of them are probably creepers, but it is okay, because they talk real sexy like. I have briefly mentioned the Irish people I've been playing with recently, and I played with them again some yesterday. There's this one named KGHAV and he's pretty cool. He has an Irish accent too, and he lives in Ireland. In case you couldn't figure that one out. I was discussing a few things with him. One of them was accents. I have asked people this before, but one of them was British and therefore stuck up (that actually is a pretty decent stereotype from what I've seen online anyway). He told me that people were just like "Oh, another stupid American, cool." I assumed this was because of Bush, but he might have just been acting stuck up. He is only like 14 or something. I call him Charlie because of this video.




His real name is like Marcus or something, but Charlie is wayyyy cooler. But that is again off topic. I asked gav ( I think that is his name, thats what his thing said anyway) what he thought. He was just like "ohh, I dunno" in fancy cool Irish accent. I then told him what Charlie had said and he was like "ohhh noo" laddy. I added the laddy because that is what Irish people are supposed to say. But it made me sad because I wish that people thought American accents were cool. Everyone thinks Irish, Scottish, and Britainish accents are cool, why not ours? Maybe because people over there watch the same shows as us like South Park and whatnot so they have become desensitized. I think that is the only possible explanation. It must be. But I'm sick of typing now so I'm going to leave, and you can just sit here and browse my other posts that I'm sure you haven't read, because you don't exist. Once again I tell you, you don't exist. Okay bye. Have fun, my imaginary friends.

Okay People. Really.

How hard would it be to follow my blog? Probably not very. So if you read this post and you aren't a follower. Click the follow button. It's over there <-------- somewhere on the side. Find it. Find it. There you go. Now click on it. It's that easy, like Staples, but easier. Okay. That was the whole point of this post. I want more followers. Join the swelling ranks and hop and the bandwagon. All the cool people follow my blog. Really. Look around you. ee all those people that already got on the wagon? You're all alone. Click the button. Thank you.

I'm Goin' Pro!

I have a dream to tell you about. It is like one of those dreams where you wake up crying, except I didn't wake up crying. Other than that it's just the same. Here the narrative will begin, and we will pretend everything I say is real.


I was in Tucson, Arizona, which if you will remember was where I just spent a week on vacation. Of course you remember, you remember every word I've ever written. Silly me. Anyway, I was in some theater somewhere. Then all of a sudden I was in some woman's office, I guess you could say she looked something like this









but not much. Just a general idea. Anyway she was telling me how I was going to get to play baseball for the Arizona Wildcats. I can't play baseball, I'm pretty sure the last time I tried I got hit right in the forehead with the ball in my neighbor's yard. It was painful. Scarred me mentally. Moving on. So I got to play for this professional baseball team and it was practically the most exciting thing ever and apparently I was good enough. The blonde woman told me that I would have to live in the team's secret hideout, which conveniently enough was in the top of the theater we were in. Imagine that. The theater was something like this in layout.

The wall and two doors and staircase (the dotted line) was drawn by me. Good handwriting, huh? I thought so too. I went to go up into the secret hideout's entrance, which was somewhere in the big arched staircase between the two doors. By the way, the door by my handwritten "wall" had a second door behind it, which had a creek running through it. Don't ask me why, it was a dream. So I went to go to the secret hideout and all of a sudden this guard, who looked just like this except in a cop outfit, came over. He wanted to know what I was doing, but I obviously couldn't tell him I was moving in with my new team because then the secret hideout wouldn't be a secret anymore, and that would be bad. So I just left. I reappeared in my own house, back in lovely cold Iowa, just as the phone started ringing. The house phone, mind you, not the cell phone. This is an important fact. So I answered the phone. It was some crazy person with a really weird voice, I don't remember exactly what the voice was like, but it was weird. Crazay weird. This person wanted to know if I was at home, and since I was apparently alone at the time I obviously wasn't going to tell the truth. I told them I was at work. I immediately knew they wouldn't fall for such a silly ploy because my car was in the driveway (My dream-self didn't at the time realize I was on the home phone, so I obviously was home). The person then started doing the crazy insane person laughter and hung up on me. Weird. But it was all okay because just then my dad appeared in the house. As he appeared two people, who happened to be from my baseball team, walked in from the garage carrying some random chair. My dad tried to speak to them but they were from spain and only spoke spanish, so it was up to me to converse with them. I of course did in my flawless dream spanish but right then I was up in the fancy penthouse thing that we all lived in. There was a party going on and I had invited some of my friends, Kro, Embroz, and Oliver Jorge. We were mingling with my rich friends and all of a sudden the cops broke in and deported all of my teammates. They were spanish from spain not mexico so they shouldn't have been deported at all. But I guess my friends (who spilled the beans about the secret hideout and where it was) and got themselves confused and said they were mexicans. The cops didn't care who they were as long as they were deporting someone, so they all got taken away.

Right then my alarm went off and I woke up. Remember how I said it was like those dreams where you are crying when you wake up (which I've never actually had, but my female family members have, must be a girl thing). Well when I was awake I was super sad. As if some of my best friends in the entire world had been rudely stolen from me, never to be seen again. It was also this really wistful, longing feeling. It makes no sense. I have never wanted to be a baseball player. Never. So why does this one illogical dream suddenly make me all sad when it ends? Who knows! But I do feel like maybe, just maybe, if my clock hadn't chosen right then to go off maybe I would have rescued them and we would have lived happily ever after. But no, they got deported and that was that. Gone forever.

If you (here I refer to "you" as if "you" actually exist, but nobody reads this so "you" don't exist) are a dream analyst, and you would like to comment and leave your phone number, that would be great. I will pay you. Tell me what it means.

Ohh The Bloody Wanker.

Pronounced Irish style, with no r sound on the end. This is one of my new favorite sayings. I don't even know what it means except bloody means bad. And wanker sounds bad. But who cares when it is an Irish person talking to you? Do I care? No. Do you? No. Okay. We're good. I like Irish people. I play xbox with them. And they are my friends. But this in fact has no point at all, and I will stop talking about it. It is not important.

I don't actually know if I had a point in this blog post, except that I like Irish people. I played some more Xbox with them today, and it was fun. They talk real nice like, and I played with three Irish people and a guy from the Netherlands. Sometimes, when I'm reading a book, the author will describe someone speaking as if they think about every word before saying it. I always thought that was a really dumb way of describing something. Way too much of an exaggeration. But this Netherlandian fellow actually talked like that. Really, really, slowly with a big space between each word. And he also had a voice that was incredibly deep. So it just made him sound like a giant from Harry Potter or something. I thought it was funny. I also that it was funny that I was the only American in the games we were playing. But I liked that, Americans tend to be stupid. Except you. If you are reading this you obviously display incredible levels of intelligence and sense of humor. Andd I just lost my train of thought. Thanks for reading. Bye.

She Caw Go.

Oh brief side note. The people that I work with, well at least two of them, talk like hicks. Andd it makes me laugh. Definitely heard one of them say "Done got me." What the heck. Nobody but hicks say that. Except for I guess my coworkers. But that isn't even all of the time. What do you think, was it just for me? Who knows. Doesn't matter. I'm off topic.


So today I went to Chicago. I've been to Chicago before but I was like six and all I remember is going to the -gag- American Girl Doll factory thing or whatever the heck it is. Badd memories. Oh and we tried to go to the Rainforest Cafe but it was like a 4 day wait if you wanted to eat, and we only had one day so we left. And probably got McDonalds or something super lame like that. But I'm in fact not writing about when I went there as un enano. So let's get on topic, shall we?

We went on a school trip and it cost like 80 dollars or something, which was a bit pricey, but when you have parents to pay for such things. It was worth it too. Well, worth my parents' money. But I bet if I had paid for it I would think it was worth it. It was a good time. If you're friends with me on facebook then you should look at the album. It isn't my album but I'm in it. So have a looksie.

The bus ride up there was the typical charter bus ride. We left at 5:45, which is really not a beautiful time to be awake. I prefer being asleep at that time personally. I rode with Embroz, who now follows my blog, so you can go read his and then he will love you. My friend, Kro, brought Ben And Jerry's Cinnamon Bun ice cream. We all figured, if it is cinnamon roll flavored then it surely must be breakfast food. So she brought it, and spoons, and shared. It was quite possibly the best ice cream I've ever had, and now Ben and Jerry are both my best friends. Forever. Biffles. That's us.








See this girl here? She isn't eating just Ben And Jerry's, but she has the right idea. Look at how happy she is. Isn't it cute? Sure it is. And that's basically how all of us looked while we ate it. Not the messy part though, just the way too happy. Sugar filled amazing ice cream at six in the morning. It was delicious. And fabulous. And exciting. And any other adjective that is good and such. For the rest of the ride me and Embroz pretty much just watched a movie. I think. I don't really remember all of the bus ride up there.



Then we arrived at our destination, the Art Institute of Chicago. It was alright, and pretty much not the reason I wanted to go. It was halfway the point of the whole trip because we had been studying spanish art. But all the good stuff is in The Prado in Madrid, Espana. So it was kind of a lot of not-so-famous works of art from Spanish people. It was okay. ( I saw this painting though)



Then at around noon the real fun stuff happened. We got to go to Cafe Iberico. It was amazing. The weird part is that like 4 out of 12 tapas that we got weren't even very good. A few were downright icky. Yeah, that's right, icky. One was this brushetta stuff and it would have been good except for the pancetta. Pancetta is like bacon without the smoky flavor. The piece of pancetta that I got was actually more like a chewy piece of fat. So it was really gross and I didn't eat it. There was also this bread stuff with some kind of vegetables on it, and that was probably my least favorite. The had some really good stuff, too. Like las croquetas, those were amazing. It was fried something or other kind of like a mozzarella stick except without the mozzarella, it was chicken and ham and some other type of cheese and some doughy stuff. And it was fried. And delicious. I also tried some octopus. It was prepared in this weirdest manner ever. It was like skillet fried with potatoes. So it was french fries and octopus. And you could see all the little suckers and it was gross and depressing. Gross because I'm not used to eating octopus suckers, and depressing because octopi are like the coolest animals ever. I wish I could change color like that. That would be amazing. But right now I'm just really bored of typing so I'll continue this post sometime later.

Back! So I think the octopus may have been the last thing that we ate as part of the included meal, which cost 30 freaking bucks. Ridiculous. But I think it was worth it. Except, their chocolate milk was not up to par. It was watery and weird tasting but whatever. I just drank Oliver Jorge's coke or whatever it was she had.

Then for dessert me and Oliver split a strawberry crepe. I've had crepes before but this wasn't like them at all. The ones I've had were all relatively little and filled with cream or something fluffy like that. This crepe was basically the size of a house and filled with really good vanilla ice cream. I bet the ice cream was made right there in the Cafe. And it was delicious. It was also covered in some strawberries.

I Called My Doctor

He confirmed my diagnosis of Blog Bipolar. (see previous post)

Don’t You Hate That Feeling?

What feeling, you ask? That one where you have this assignment or something hanging over your head. You know you should do it, but anything, anything, is more interesting. Staring at a wall watching paint dry, watching water boil (which, as everyone knows, is impossible. If you watch it it never boils, duh), watching your fingernails grow, all are more interesting. It makes life a bit stressful, which also apparently makes life shorter. So basically, school makes life shorter. One could argue that the quality of life is increased because now people can afford fancy gadgets and whatnot with their degree. But I don't care. I'm off on a tangent anyway. The point, as stupid and boring and nonimportant as it is may be, is that this blog has been giving me that feeling lately.

Before I went on my one week sick-fest I was blogging up a storm, and then all of a sudden, I didn't feel like it anymore. Let's blame it on the sickness shall we? I think the reason I was doing so well is because it wasn't really an assignment for me anymore. I had a few blogs more than required each week and so I didn't worry about it too much. If I didn't have anything to say, I wouldn't bother. But now that I was sick for a week and then swamped by make-up work for a week I am no longer ahead. In fact, I'm barely keeping up. I might even be behind. And that makes it hang over my head and takes all the fun out of blogging. It isn't quite as boring as watching paint dry, because I can pretend that someone actually cares about what I have to say when I talk to myself on here, but it's getting close. The most logical explanation is that I hate homework, and since I already have homework in plenty this assignment is no longer fun. I can't really think of anything else that would explain it. Or actually I can. It could be that I am bipolar (also known as manic-depressive) because they go through two phases. In the manic phase they have a whole bunch of creativity and all this energy and it's just wonderful. Apparently a lot of famous artists had this disorder and that is why they were so good but ended up going crazy in the end, like Goya, but he was also deaf and they blame his craziness on being deaf (I know the truth though, he was just bipolar). The second phase is the depressive phase and bipolar people get super depressed and have suicidal feelings and all that crappy stuff. Maybe I am Blog Bipolar. I think I must be because at the beginning of the year I could never think of anything to blog about, then I went through a blog-manic phase where I was like 8 blogs over the requirement, and now I'm in the blog-depressive phase because I can't think of anything to write about. I think I'll call my doctor up on this one and see what he thinks. Anyway. It's been fun. Lets hang out again some time.