Saturday, December 17, 2011

Responsibility.

It's been nearly two month since my last post.
Madness, you say?
Wrong.
Worse.
Responsibility.
That disgusting mythical beast I've avoided for so long has finally taken a stand against me in college.
Yes, it's true.
I have a job.

I work at the WSU Children's Center!
To be honest, it's not that bad.
It's right up my alley and I couldn't ask for a job that fits me better!
But naturally, I have a few complaints.

I don't think I'm allowed to use any of children's real names without getting in trouble, so, first up...

VELOCIRAPTOR
To begin with, this child is much too old to still be in diapers. But the minute she hears the word "potty" she decides to become an amazing candidate for the high school track team. I'm assuming she soils herself while running around like a madman, which, admittedly, is a feat I don't think I could bring myself to accomplish. Imagine the chafing.
Anyway.
So, why do I call her Velociraptor?
Because, for no good reason, she screeches like a dinosaur in heat whenever it is most inconvenient.
Possible Velociraptor Thought Process: "Another child is asking a question? NOW."
"Dinner time? NOW."
"Another child is using the restroom and looks rather vulnerable? NOW."
"A child is going to hit another child? ...Soon."
"Said children are attacking each other and teacher is busy prying them apart? NOW."

THE BITCH
Oh, yes I did. I called a child a bitch.
She is the only kid in my age group (roughly 3-5) that I have ever heard outwardly make fun of another child.
Because he has sharp teeth.
Granted, he does, and it is absolutely terrifying, but these are the things you should learn to keep to yourself.
I tried to explain to her that making fun of others isn't okay, and that we should keep opinions that might hurt others to ourselves (or start a blog), and I received this explanation:
"He's looking at me because he thinks I'm beautiful. But I don't want that prince. I want a different prince."
She is very lucky she is a five year old.

SEXUALLY REPRESSED BULLY
Now, when this child isn't acting up, he is amazing.
He can be kind, curious, and extremely intelligent.
But there are times when I wonder.
Like when he decides to make sweet, sweet love to the couch.
Or the bouncy ball.
Or the cabinet.
Or the dinner table.
Or the chair.
We try to explain to him that this is something we do in private, but he puts on his "doesn't give a fuck" face and we just kinda let him be.
The other times I wonder about this child is when he is a terrifying serial killer.
Okay, maybe a bit of a hyperbole.
But seriously. Do NOT take away the SRB's toys, yell in his general direction, or make direct eye contact.
Because he will hit you hard, and over.
And over.
And over.
Until teacher runs over and saves you from the SRB's death grip.

LAZY ASS
As you might have guessed, this is not a child.
This is an extremely annoying coworker that we keep around to stay at the correct teacher-child ratio.
Fifteen kids tonight?
She decides to take one and read him an uninteresting book.
Dinnertime?
Oh, she'll have some. You can go ahead and serve everyone by yourself.
Is there a couch in the room?
Her ass will be glued to that cushion the whole time.

Lazy Ass: "Oh, SRB, stop hitting that girl. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop."
Me: *doesn't say anything because I'm too busy running to the scene of the crime and saving a child's life*
Lazy Ass: "Thanks. Hitting isn't very nice, SRB!"
Me: *proceeds to be bitten and scratched by SRB*

So, there's my job.
Gettin' paperrrr.


Wednesday, October 19, 2011

FOODKUS

Haikus. About food. 

Banana, you have
less potassium than an
avocado. LIES.

Chinese food, stop it
with the grease on all your stuff.
Diarrhea sucks.

Jams frozen yogurt,
I think you are healthy, but
then I add toppings...

A white and lumpy
Manna sent from Mexico
Arroz con leche.

Green beans, you taste like
the Jolly Green Giant's poop.
This makes my tongue sad.

Pumpkin pie, if sex
with a holiday food, you
will be my first choice.

Eggnog, you may watch,
but may not participate.
Cameras allowed.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Panda.

So, today I went to Panda Express for the first time with Jared.
Despite my hometown's American Chinese restaurant's popularity, I am not exactly an expert on Chinese food made by Mexicans and white people.
But apparently, "Kung Pao Chicken" means "Melt Your Face Off Chicken" in Mexilishnese.

Normally I can handle spicy stuff.
But recently, my immune system decided to be an a-hole, and now I am very sick.
"Oh, you wanted to go to work and audition for a play? Lol, sorry. We all have plans, sister."

Face-melting chicken + super-citrus orange juice + a dry throat = Oh god, make it stop. PLEASE MAKE IT STOP FOREVER.

Luckily, Oreos are good at deterring spicy Mexilishnese ninjas.

Also, a few updates:

My boyfriend has a frightening obsession with peanut butter. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't have blood, just peanut butter, and is trying to hide that he is the Planters Mr. Peanut guy. I am surprisingly okay with having a peanut as a boyfriend.

Of course, I have to rage a little bit in each blog. To the people who have to imitate the robotic lady voice saying "going up" EVERY time you ride the elevator: I am sad for you because it is clear you did not have a Microsoft Sam function on your computer growing up and were deprived of this robot delight at an early age, but enough is enough. Your friends don't even think you're funny anymore. They just look really embarrassed to be in an elevator with "that guy."

For some reason, I decided to write my first name on my new bottle of Chloraseptic. Then Jared pointed out that another girl with the name "Randi" could still take it. So then I wrote my last name on it. Now I realize that if anyone sees my Chloraseptic they'll think I'm an eleven year old going to summer camp. An eleven year old going to summer camp with a COLD.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Some Letters

Dear Listerine,
 Please let me open you. My fingernails are not long enough at the moment to tear through your plastic barrier. I need your minty liquid flames in my mouth ASAP. 

Dear People Who Always Talk About How Much They Hate Justin Bieber,
 He's annoying. We get it. And I agree. But I feel like he eats salad made of $100 bills and golden croutons. And he accomplished this by effortlessly making shit records with no emotion or intellect. What did YOU do today? Also, by incessantly bitching about him, you're talking about him. All the time. Like something a person obsessed with him would do. You annoy me more than his fans. Go away.

Dear Baby Bears,
 I want to squish you until my heart has reached maximum "You're so fucking cute" capacity, but if I try your mom will eat my face. Please all be orphans so I can adopt you.

Dear Tight Jeans,
 I do not understand your mind tricks. You are fantastic at convincing me that I will look sexy while wearing you, then I put you on and I look like a teenage walrus. And no, the muffin top is not the best part of the muffin. YOU LIE.

Dear People Who Pee In the Shower Next to Mine,
 I understand that toilets are for big kids and you're not quite out of your pull-ups yet, but we people who are trying to get CLEAN in the shower (I know, a fucking stellar concept) would appreciate not having to dodge your pee stream that is making its way to our shared drain. 

Love, Randi

Monday, September 26, 2011

Jealousy. It's What's for Dinner.

Dear Pretty Ex-Girlfriends,

Why are you so pretty?
I feel like your mermaid mother mated with a beautiful centaur man, and there was a mutation in the chromosome that causes animal bottom-halves, so you just ended up with beautiful mystical characteristics and long, naturally hairless legs. Fucking Punnett Squares.

Why are you so smart?
You really know trigonometry, latin, and how to perform open heart surgery? Did you get your PHD in "Motherfucking Everything?"
And if that is possible, can you major in "Motherfucking Nothing?"
Answer: yes. Like me.
-2 to self-confidence

Why are you so nice?
Why don't you want to punch me in my face like I want to punch you in your face?
Have you ever even been angry at anything?
Is your self-confidence so high that you sincerely believe that whole "Well, it's his loss!" bullshit that we're fed after a really horrific breakup?
Why are you being nice to me?
It makes me want to like you, but then I remember that I am not allowed to like you, because I am a crazy lady.

"Why did you look at her?"
"Wha... what?"
"Why did you look at that slutty bitch?"
"Um. Who? You're being weird."
"You can just go date Slut Bitch if I'm being SO weird."
"...what?"

In conclusion:
Ex-girlfriends, I am sorry I am not a big fan of your club. Maybe if you weren't beautiful immortal beings with a college degree in Motherfucking Everything and a sweet disposition, I wouldn't want to punch you in your face.

Love, Randi. <3

Friday, September 9, 2011

I SURVIVED THE RAPTURE. LOLZ.

Snorg Tees girl, why do you have a camel toe? If I buy your shirt with the clever "I survived the rapture" joke that nobody has ever made before, will it give me camel toe? I do not want this. This is bad advertising. I suppose this might be aimed more toward a male demographic, but do guys really buy shirts based on camel toe?
 Cliche "funny" phrase + Subliminal sexy stuff = MONIEZ.

Example:
"Winning" + Busty model = MONIES.

Okay, I was going to give more examples, but I have to mention something about "Winning". I don't care about Charlie Sheen. So quit quoting him.Taflinger mentioned Charlie Sheen in his lecture last week in Comm 101. And I just waited for it. Of course, a meek little voice behind me says "Winning!"
And his friends found it hilarious. REALLY? That's STILL funny?
Also, this same guy found it hilarious when Taflinger mentioned the word climax when talking about story structure. 
OMG SO MUCH FUNNY BRO I LIKE VAGINA ON MY PENIS BECAUSE I AM A BOY. AND SEX IS FUNNY TO TALK ABOUT LOLOLOLOLZ.
But I've noticed over the years that the people who make the most sexual jokes are the ones who aren't getting any. Seriously.

"LOL CLIMAX IT ARE FUNNY."
"Do you know what a clitoris is?"
"Is it a jamba juice flavor? All my bitches love Jamba Juice."



Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I Should Be Reading About My Cat Instead

So, lately I have been a bit to busy to post a lot, so I'm going to go ahead and make up for that by posting about what I've been so freaking busy with:

Reading Textbooks: Normally, when reading my textbooks, I end up thinking about something completely off-topic and then get really upset with myself because my brain thinks the last two pages I read on Mesopotamian women was really about my cat. And, in all honesty, I don't think my cat had anything to do with the formation of a patriarchal society in Mesopotamia.


Procrastination: Since my brain seems to think I can't read about anything besides my cat, it thinks it's hilarious to come up with random things for me to do outside of homework.

Walk to Bookie and buy things I don't need? Check.
Take a nap? Check.
Watch endless amounts of Jenna Marbles youtube videos and curse at the screen because she's funnier and has larger breasts? Check.
Look at self in the mirror and squish various body parts until I am sufficiently depressed? Check.
Write a blog? Check.

Impatience: A fair amount of my time has been spent on being angry. So, for anyone that has been reading my blog for a while or has read my old ass posts back when I thought Microsoft Paint pictures were funny (MY AUDIENCE. THEY LIKE COLORS. AND TERRIBLE PICTURES. BUT MOSTLY COLORS.) understands that one of my biggest pet peeves are slow-walking people. So, when I was getting ready for college and packing all my things and putting my big-girl pants on one leg at a time, I thought "Hey, this is college. Everyone is in a hurry to get to classes like I am, because they paid out the ass for them! No more slow-walkers!) So, when I encountered a young man at a dead stop in a high traffic zone between two doors, my fury had never been stronger. I yelled at him to "FUCKING GO" before I passed him, but I feel like if I was trained in martial arts, I would definitely have split him in half. IN. HALF.

Kung- Fu Dunk: Kung- Fu + Basketball + Sexy asian boys + Romance + Revenge + Asian Jason Alexander = The best movie of all time forever and ever. Look it up.

Peeing: I have to pee a lot, and new boyfriend gets really upset at me because of it.
4 AM, in bed:
I shift around a lot, then attempt to crawl over new boyfriend without killing and/ or waking him up. I fail.
"What are you doing?"
"I have to pee."
"Of course you do."
And new boyfriend rolls over and goes back to sleep.
Oh, and sharing a twin bed with somebody is no fun. Because he seems to think that I take up all the room. New boyfriend, I am half your size, and sleep on my side, huddled against the wall. You are large and sleep on your back. I can only give you so much room before I become part of the wall like that dude on The Flying Dutchman in Pirates of the Caribbean. Then half of my body will be carpeted, and you'll start to stick things on me like important dates and pictures of you in random fucking countries because you are obsessed with velcro wall hangers. SCOOT. OVER.

So, that's my life right now. Sorry about the lack of posts. Gonna waddle over to Northside for some breakfast now, because apples are the sneakiest motherfucking food ever. You eat them because they are delicious, juicy, healthy, and give you an immediate sense of fullness. And ten minutes later? "LOL, JK, I WAS MOSTLY WATER." And you're hungry again. I hate you, apple.