~UPDATE~

OS will be taking a short hiatus due to craziness (but goodness!) of life. Not to fear, more subtleties will be coming at you in the near future... :)

Oh, college

I came in contact with a little freshman today trying to navigate her way around campus on her first day of college. I could imagine that the same look of pure terror in her eyes would be seen if she were being chased by a pack of rabid dogs as acid rain was falling out of the sky and piranhas were eating her alive. Good thing it's just a sunny Tuesday in the one of the "top 20 safest mid-sized cities in the country." All that could hurt her here is a paper cut from the map she's so intensely trying to decipher.

Fear not, little freshman, fear not. Something tells me you'll survive...

Video chatting

Why do we video chat? No, really. Why? Is it really necessary to SEE the other person? Truthfully, we’re not really watching the other person when we video chat, we’re watching ourselves in the bottom corner of the screen. How do I look to other people? Ohhhh. My face looks a little strange. Maybe if I raise my eyebrows and lift my chin a little…yes, that helps. Ehh, and my hair is looking a little messed up *toss of head* there, that’s better *raise eyebrows again* but the light on me is a little weak. Here, I’ll go turn on this lamp so they can see me better, oh, but I’m plugged into the wall. “Hey, just a second, I’m going to turn on the light so you can see me better,” you say. You quickly flip on the light and rush back *toss hair, raise eyebrows, chin up* Meanwhile, your video chat friend can see your eyes tracking to the bottom of the screen and they can tell that you’re only looking at yourself (dangit!, cover blown – it’s like they can see you or something). But truthfully they’re doing the same thing, looking at only themselves, so it’s ok. And at the end of your video chat, you’ve talked about absolutely nothing and have given each other about 1/3 the concentration you could have given them on the phone.

So, long story short, if you don’t have a camera on your computer, don’t feel left out. Just go into the bathroom and make a phone call while looking at yourself in the mirror. You’ll get the same experience for zero of the price. “Video” chat away…

If Mr. & Mrs. Stick went on a 1-day diet

blog (blŏg)
verb weblog, blogging, blogged

1. To completely waste time and be looked down upon by people who get paid to write
2. To tell everyone things about you they don’t really need to know and to point out “obvious subtleties”
3. To utilize the ultimate time-wasting form of existence – to stay up late at night laughing to yourself while writing about peeing pyramids

See also: “tweet”

Synonyms: proper noun: Julia

tweet (tw–ee’-t)
verb twittle twottle tweet twert twot twirtle twitler twittering twottering twittwottweetering

1. To completely waste time and be looked down upon by the people who aren’t on twitter
2. To tell everyone things about you they don’t really need to know in 140 words or less
3. To utilize one more completely time-wasting website to its full potential

Synonyms: verb babble, adj pitiful

Antonyms: adj productive, adj respected

Automated Overload

Oh, the land of self-automated bathrooms. I’m not quite sure why we live in a world where we still have to take out the trash in the morning and scoop the lint out of the drier, yet we can go to bathrooms where we are relieved, cleansed, and dried with little to no effort on our own behalf.

Upon entering the restroom, you select your stall of choice (usually the second one, am I right?) You barely begin to use the toilet, when all of a sudden the toilet decides that, NOPE, you’re done! It doesn’t consult you, it doesn’t check in to see how you’re doing. Are you done yet? No? OK, still flushing anyways, DEAL with it. How thoughtful of that little eager toilet and its preemptive flush. What’s even better is the mist of dirty toilet water that has now been shot all over you, AWESOME. You continue on with your business, but now you’re nervous and fearful of the toilet’s erratic behavior. You’re scared of a toilet…what has your life come to? Eventually you survive this episode without another early flush, yet as you exit the stall, you have to hit the little pencil eraser-sized button because NOW the toilet won’t flush automatically. Brilliant.

You move on to the sink and take approximately 2 minutes doing the water-and-soap-dispenser-hand-wave-dance. This improvisational yet complicated and intricate dance is very similar to the ancient Native American dances to the rain and cleansing gods. When these “sink sensor gods” are pleased with your sacrifice, they’ll release the water to cleanse your dirty toilet water-misted hands. But don’t expect the water to last long, you must dance again and again.

Next you can marvel at the new version of the Dyson Airblade hand drier that shoots air at your skin at a super-high velocity. You stand, staring in amazement at the strange and somewhat pleasing contortions your skin can morph into (this is what it must feel like to go sky diving! you think). Who knew you had such freaking awesome skin? This is your favorite part of your automated bathroom journey, and after sticking your hands in the Airblade 3 more times, you leave the bathroom with a strange sense of accomplishment. You survived the automated-toilet, water, soap, and dryer-land yet again.

And as you reach for the bacteria-laden bathroom door with your beautifully clean hands, you realize that you’ll probably be right back there in the bathroom again in 20 minutes because of that Starbucks latte you just drank. But if there were such a thing as an automated Starbucks IV drip, it would so be worth it…

A game of Hangman played by:

A game of Mad Libs played by a...

The truck drove down the __(adj)___ road and all of a sudden a __(noun)___ jumped out and the people yelled "__(phrase)___!" Luckily, their __(adj)___ truck wasn't damaged and they all felt __(adj)___.

4-year-old boy:
poopy, tyrannosaurus rex, I have to potty, icky, sleepy

16-year-old girl:
bootylicious, hotty, Take off your shirt, pimpin', sexy

80-year-old man:
dagnabit, wheelchair, Slow down, 1930's, constipated

35-year-old man that thinks he's still 21:
killer, beer truck, KEGGER, bangin', wasted

SNAPSHOT of what it would look like if I were hooked up to an EKG heart monitor as I went through my daily life:

WARNING - BLOG READING MAY CAUSE UNCONTROLLABLE BODILY MOVEMENTS

Message I received today from Ashley L.:

"Ahhh! Your pie chart made me laugh while I was drinking my water, so now I have water in my crotch."

Proceed with caution, my friends, proceed with caution.

Pie chart of the pies I eat

A plea for friendship

This morning I was schooled on why it is not only acceptable, but also environmentally smart (darn you green people...) to pee in the shower.

A friendly email from Miss Maggie Stein:

"Honestly, I think your 'it all goes into the mix and gets washed away' defense for oceans, rivers, and lakes, is even MORE applicable to showers. The water is draining. You are covered in soap. I never pee at the end of the shower, when it might possibly linger. Also, I'm saving money on paper goods, and saving my toilet one extra flush - PEEING IN THE SHOWER IS ENVIRONMENTALLY CONSCIOUS!

Please don't stop being my friend."

Maggie. You pee on yourself DAILY. That is more of a reason for me to be your friend so that I can get you some HELP. Woven into this email is a subtle cry for salvation and I hear you, don't worry. I'm here for you, my friend. Ask anything of me and I'll do it.

Just please don't ask me to clean your shower.



DISCLAIMER - obvioussubleties.blogspot.com has received explicit permission by Miss Stein to publish her comments. We will not be held liable for any decrease in the number of facebook friends Miss Stein may experience, nor will we pay punitive damages for any emotional hardships that may befall her.

Time to ERASE

You’ve been there.... You go to call your friend to tell them about the hilarious thing that just happened. You find their name in your phonebook and hit SEND. The phone rings and rings until finally, at the very last minute, your friend answers. “CATHERINE!!!” you say. “YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED!” Catherine responds with a rather hesitant, but enthusiastic, “What?!” You proceed to tell your long, hilarious story and then, when you’re done, Catherine is silent on the other end of the line. Did she not think it was funny? Did I say something wrong? Catherine then proceeds to ask…"Wait…who IS this?”

OH CRAP.

Oh no, you didn’t call the Catherine you thought you were calling. You called the Catherine that’s the sister of your friend in college that you hung out with one time and got her number just in case you got split up while hanging out that one night. Awesome. What do you do? Well, you pretend like you kind of called her on purpose and want to chat, because THAT'S A SMART WAY TO REACT, RIGHT? “OHHHH, Catherine! Hey!!! Yeah, well I didn’t mean to call you initially, but now that you’re on the line, how ARE you? What have you been up to the last 5 years?!.....OH, you’re MARRIED, are you? And you have KIDS! How great!...well, it was wonderful getting to talk to you, so glad we got to catch up after 5 years! OK, take care.”

END CALL.

IMMEDIATELY ERASE CONTACT.

SPEND THE NEXT 10 MINUTES GOING THROUGH PHONEBOOK ERASING ALL CONTACTS THAT YOU HAVE TO TAKE MORE THAN 2 SECONDS TO THINK OF WHO THE PERSON IS.

FUTURE.CRISES.AVERTED.

*sigh*

The "It's Socially Acceptable to Pee In a _____" Pyramid

If you fall at the top of the pyramid, I'm re-evaluating my friendship with you. And I will never take a shower at your place. That is all.

Vowels

I think vowels, like pennies, will one day become disregarded, cast away, no longer needed, no longer wanted.

4 wht rsn? B/c thts jst wht I 4-C.

Thnx, txt mssgng, thnx.

The similarities between...

Sometimes

Sometimes, when I walk down the hall to the vending machine for an afternoon snack, I envision a time long long ago when Indians were heading out to hunt game on the prairie. As I see the vending machine in the distance, I imagine an Indian spotting a buffalo. I draw my hand into my pocket and smoothly pull out my dollar bill. The Indian stealthly pulls an arrow from his quiver. I approach the machine and carefully place the dollar bill into the slot. The Indian draws closer to the buffalo and places his arrow in the bow. I stand quietly in front of the plexiglas screen, surveying every food item and calculating how each may make me feel if I choose to select it. The Indian silently crouches in the grass surveying every movement of the buffalo, calculating the best shot and feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins. I point my finger and make a move towards the number pad. The Indian points his arrow and draws back the bow string. I select "1-4-5." The Indian releases his arrow. The metal curly-cue thing turns, dropping my peanut M&Ms. The arrow pierces the heart of the 1-ton buffalo and he falls to the ground. I reach my hand down, pushing back on the plastic door. The Indian approaches the buffalo, ready to slaughter it with his knife. I rip open the paper. The Indian rips open the buffalo. I take the M&Ms back to my desk to eat all of them myself. The Indian butchers the buffalo and takes it back to feed his whole tribe.

I am the Indian. The Indian is me.

Sometimes.

S.A.T. Sample Analogies (for Julia’s Life)

Grabbing a public door handle and walking away with a wet, sticky hand : full body shiver ::

a) Finding out the crunchy things in the vegetables you just ate were really worms : severe gag reflex
b) Not knowing much Spanish, but fully understanding that your neighbors just yelled out “Hey pretty pretty read head girl!” : overly-animated roll of the eyes
c) Scratching what you think is a mole, yet one day it falls off and walks away because it was really a tick : uncontrollable screaming
d) ALL OF THE ABOVE

The Biggest Gainer

NBC has so graciously given us the TV show The Biggest Loser, where a lot of overweight people have doughnuts staring them down, yet they do five-a-day workouts to shave off the pounds. However, why should just the overweight people of America get a TV show? That’s discrimination, and we just can’t have that.

I propose we create a new show. We’ll call it…The Biggest Gainer. This ingenious concept for a show would involve selecting a panel of extremely underweight people (this could be filmed in Hollywood, they grow ‘em skin and bones out there) who would be highly urged to gain weight. Different from The Biggest Loser, they would have rice cakes and watermelon staring them down, yet would be forced to sit on the couch and eat potato chips five times a day. Finally, in the end, the person who gained the most body weight and percentage fat would win. Then, for the NBC season-finale-blowout-extraordinaire, the winners of The Biggest Loser and The Biggest Gainer would duke it out head-to-head on the set of American Gladiator.

I should quit my day job and go to work for NBC.

Although, twenty bucks says they already have this show in the pipeline…

I saw this sign while driving down the road. I kind of want to pick up the hitchhikers so I can give ‘em a pat on the back and a “well done, buddy!” However, at the same time I want to stop paying my taxes because I am apparently NOT getting my money’s worth. Although, my taxes did get me this nice sign to warn me of some unknown impending doom if hitchhikers should happen to be lurking around. How thoughtful.

Scrubs

Whenever I see someone wearing scrubs in the grocery store, I vividly imagine what those scrubs may have come in contact with that day. Human excrements, bloody guts, brain chunks, bone shards, flesh-eating bacteria...you know, the usual. Then, as Mr. Scrubs and I reach for the same apple and his shoulder brushes up against my arm, I recoil, shiver a little, and back away slowly.

That apple is all yours Scrubby Man. Me? I’m going to take a shower.

The best euphemism I've ever heard, said to me by a country boy the other day:

"Man, my Right Guard done up and took a LEFT."

Mr. (Not So) Suave

A delivery man in his early twenties comes into the lab I’m working in. He sets down his boxes and instead of leaving like every other delivery man does, he proceeds to start looking around the lab. He sees me and three other girls and gets the brilliant idea to morph into Mr. I-Pick-Up-All-The-Ladies-With-My-Opening-Lines and decides he’ll strike up a conversation. Shoot, that’s how he picks up the ladies at the bar, right? Hmmm…what should he say to these women so that they’ll think he’s interested in what they do and think he's really smart? Well, Mr. Suave sees some diagrams of mice sitting there on the table and decides that it would be a good idea to start a conversation about this. He proceeds to ask the following question:

“So, is there really a difference between a rat and a mouse? Like, aren’t they the same animal?”


--silence--


Thoughts running through my head:
1) Um, what?
2) I know the phrase "no question is a dumb question," but…
3) If a rat and a mouse were the same animal, don’t you think it would be called by the same name?
4) Does this question keep you up at night?
5) Do you ever successfully pick up women?

Answers we give to Mr. Suave, followed by his responses:
1) US: “No, no. They’re different animals.” HIM: “Oh, OK. That’s what I thought.”
2) US: “Rats are huge. Mice are small.” HIM: --silence--
3) US: “They can’t breed together. It’s like a cat trying to breed with a dog.” HIM: “OH, oh yeah. Right, ok.” --starts heading towards the door--
4) US: “They even have different numbers of chromosomes.”
HIM: “Oh, that’s a big word.” --freaks out and leaves the room--

The question I’m dying to ask Mr. Suave Delivery Man the next time I see him:

“So…the type of mail you deliver…and email…those the same things, right?”

Braille

Braille in books. How special it is. It allows blind people to read. That’s awesome. Thank you, Mr. Braille, who decided to use tiny little bumps to change the world. Here’s my small tribute to you:
: . :: . : … : .:.::

Braille on signs. This is the worst idea ever. It does not make any practical sense, I do not get it. Why, oh why, would you put Braille on signs that blind people can’t even find in the first place?

Potential Real Life Occurrence:
Exhibit A: Man with 20/20 vision pulls up to a gas station and walks inside to use the restroom. 20/20 vision allows the man to not only find the restroom, but to also see the sign marking “Men’s Restroom.” While waiting to use the toilet, Man notices Braille on the bathroom sign. “Interesting,” Man thinks. “Now how would that work?” Man enters restroom, relieves himself, and continues on with life.

Exhibit B: Blind man walks up to a gas station (with the help of his seeing-eye dog) and goes inside to use the restroom. Blind man searches and searches for the restroom. Blind man runs hands along every wall; he knows that there is Braille on the bathroom sign. Blind man cannot find sign. Blind man continues to search. Blind man becomes frustrated and irate; he was told he could find restroom with Braille on sign. Blind man wets himself and leaves the gas station a physical, mental, and emotional wreck.

Julia’s solution to the blind-finding-the-restroom epidemic that may be sweeping the nation as we speak:
Slather bathroom door handles with bacon. The seeing-eye dog will be able to quickly and effectively locate the bathroom. No blind people will be forced to wet themselves ever again.

Lets keep Braille in books, people, and bacon on door handles.

Lotion vs. conditioner

One time I stayed at a hotel, and as I was tired and getting ready for bed late one night, I used the hotel lotion to moisturize the dry skin on my arms and legs.

The next morning I got up to take a shower and used the hotel shampoo and conditioner. After I’d washed my hair and gotten out of the shower, I had an epiphany...the conditioner I used was actually the lotion. Now I have lotion in my hair. In addition, that also means that the night before, I slathered conditioner all over my body and then went to bed.

Awesome.

Fire alarms

What is it about a fire alarm at work that causes us to immediately act as if it’s ruining our lives? We’re having such an “incredibly busy!” day and now all of our work is going to be delayed and our schedule is going to be so out of whack, when in reality you were just checking youtube for the newest funny baby-laugh videos. Fire alarms - WHAT A NUISANCE! You mean we have to get up and EXIT the building? And I have to use the STAIRS? You sigh loudly so everyone can hear, yet in reality you secretly relish the possibility of excitement and danger. What if this isn’t a false alarm? What if the building will be in flames in the next 5 minutes? (Is my computer insured?) Will the fire department bring the cool truck with the ladder and the man that has to drive the back end of the truck with a separate steering wheel? What would I do tomorrow if work didn’t exist? (I’d lay out by the pool, but I might have 3rd degree burns from the fire, and that would hurt, so maybe not.) You continue to think these completely random, implausible thoughts as you now quickly sprint down the stairs and forget that 1 minute ago you were annoyed with the whole situation. But, alas, in the end, the cool fire truck didn’t come, the building is all in one piece, you have to come to work tomorrow, and the loony that pulled the alarm did it because he burned a bag of popcorn in the microwave. And as you head back up to your office, you begin to hear loud sounds of babies laughing and think –

OH, CRAP.

The cheapest and most effective form of birth control

Screaming children on airplanes.

Movie previews

Somehow movie previews morph us into hyper-critical, overly vocal participants in the world of cinematography. As soon as the 30-second preview ends, we’re ready with our seething critiques which usually have embarrassingly poor vocabulary such as “really bad,” “stupid,” and “not scary.” Famous and brilliant Academy Award-winning actors are suddenly “trash!” and we declare that we would never pay “$9.25” to see THAT one. Then, as our movie begins, our self-imposed job is done and we can eat our junior mints; we earned them. Time to enjoy a truly good movie that contains substance.

Ice Age 3.

AN UPDATE ON THE JUNE 22nd “Guilt” POSTING

The advertising agency mailed me yet ANOTHER survey to fill out. They apparently liked my honesty in taking their $2 bill and actually doing what they asked (dangit) by filling out their survey. So, what do they do now? They send me $30 cold hard American CASH. 1) THIS IS AWESOME! 2) My conscious is of course going to make me do the survey again, just like last time (what else should I do…mail the cash back?) Guess what wonderful task I have now? I get to keep a TV-watching diary. Yes, that’s right. A diary. Like I had back in the 2nd grade. That I successfully wrote in for 3 nights. Total.

Here, I believe, is what my TV-watching diary will look like:


Dear Diary,

You just paid me $30. I like to watch Dance Your Ass Off.

Love, Julia

Walking the dog

An unknown, alternate universe forms out of thin air when you approach another human walking a dog just as you are. The dogs are fully engaged in normal social "conversation” before the owners ever do the same. Unlike all other human social situations, oftentimes nothing will be said by the owners to each other, yet each will talk to his/her dog. “Oh Sparky, don’t do that, be nice!” “Quit smelling his butt, Fluffy!” If pleasantries are perhaps exchanged by the humans, it’s to inquire about the name (if not previously mentioned) and breed of said dog. However, the humans could care less about each other’s names. Upon parting ways, the humans, who have played a strange role reversal with the dogs in this twisted canine universe, call each other’s dog by name when saying goodbye. The humans don’t even say goodbye to each other; there is no need, he/she is not important. There are more pressing matters at hand – like Sparky’s bladder.

The world's ultimate display of laziness

Go-gurt.

Signs from below

You know when you're flying on an airplane and you start your descent down to land, you see all the industrial buildings with words or pictures painted on their roofs? Some of them say the company name, some of them have a big ol' American flag, etc. Well, I've decided that I want to buy two industrial buildings next to an airport for the sole purpose of painting these messages on the roofs:

Wasabi

I like wasabi. It’s a little dangerous (just a little). Eat too much and WHOA! hey there sinuses, glad to see you could join us. I’ve learned that I can create quite the shock factor with friends by eating a huge glob of it all at once (I’m talking a tablespoon, yeah that’s right). I especially get a strange sense of joy when I do it in front of my Asian friend and she calls me crazy. Keep in mind she’s Asian....and so is wasabi...and she is shocked.

For some reason, that makes me do a little jig inside.

CLICK IT OR TICKET

The cops recently had a lot of fun with their famous “CLICK IT OR TICKET” campaign. I thought it would be helpful to give them some more clever phrases for future escapades into the world of “we’re going to get your money whether you like it or not, so we might as well make a catchy phrase to go along with it.”

“CLICK IT OR TICKET” will soon be superseded by:

GAS IT OR PASS IT
BEEP IT OR KEEP IT
TURN IT OR BURN IT
STEER IT OR CLEAR IT
KNOW IT OR THROW IT
SLOW IT OR SHOW IT

The meanings of these sayings are completely unclear, which is why they will be perfect for future law enforcement campaigns. Get out your wallets, drivers. DISPLAY IT OR PAY IT.

DYAO

There’s a new show on Oxygen that my remote control deceptively took me to. It was against my will, I promise, my finger SLIPPED. I was immediately so shocked that I sat in awe at what I was forced to see; I was helpless, I couldn’t move! The show, this show:

Dance Your Ass Off.

AREYOUKIDDINGME? NO, REALLY, ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. These poor, pitiful, (self-proclaimed, mind you) LARGE people are trying to dance their asses off.

Even the mental image that this title brings to my mind is disturbing to me. I’m envisioning normal people with normal anatomy that all of a sudden, after one quick tango or maybe a little rhumba, BAM! All that’s left are two giant craters. Where did their asses go? Well, they danced them off, of course.

So here’s how it goes down. One "professional" dancer with a normal-sized boo-té gets paired up with another person that apparently has some ba-donky-donk issues. They dance this hideously awful, choreographed, yet oddly free-style number that strangely gains the love and approval of both the judges and audience. Next is the trip to the scale where they’re weighed. Did they dance their asses off? Not this week, but STAY TUNED.

I think we should combine all of the dancing shows on TV just to get them over with in one fell swoop on one night, no need for this torture. We’ll combine Dancing With The Stars, So You Think You Can Dance, America’s Best Dance Crew, and Dance Your Ass Off and we’ll call it:

America’s Ass Thinks You Can Dance, Stars, So Best Dance Off.

I’d watch.

BB&B is ignoring me

UPDATE:
Following my June 23rd BB&B letter posting, it was suggested to me that I send my letter directly to BB&B. After about 0.25 seconds of thinking it over, I agreed that yes, this would be a good idea. I emailed them my letter and received this message back:

"Thank you, we appreciate your feedback. Your inquiry has been submitted to our Customer Service Center. We will respond to you in 24 - 48 hours."

Guess what - it's been a week. BB&B isn't returning my emails. What's next, not returning phone calls, not letting me in the store, NOT GIVING ME 20% OFF COUPONS *gasp*? What BB&B, are you getting cold feet? Am I too outspoken in our relationship? Is there another customer you've been seeing?

I'm changing my facebook status to "It's complicated" with BB&B. We're going on a break. I'm now on the market for other bedroom/bathroom/random crap stores.

Hey there, Target...

Irony.

Disney on Ice is coming to town. The show this year is Finding Nemo.

AKA: Fish on Ice.

Irony.

Random encounters

Prisoners get sick. What happens when prisoners get sick? They go to the hospital.

But wait, prisoners can’t just enter the front sliding doors like normal people, now can they? They’re all bound in chains and wearing bright orange jumpsuits. That would scare the little old ladies and make children cry in terror. That just isn’t acceptable, now is it?

How about the back entrance then? That should work. Yes, perfect, the back entrance.

Guess who else uses the back entrance to the hospital? That’s right, JULIA. Julia gets hungry sometimes. Julia needs food sometimes. Where is the closest place to get food? The hospital. What is the quickest route into the hospital? The back entrance.

Julia (peacefully content in her thoughts, minding her own business) approaches the back entrance. She looks up and realizes, hey, look at all these people in bright orange jumpsuits. Maybe this is the new landscaping crew uniform? Upon closer inspection, the landscaping crew seems to be shackled in chains. Hmm, that’s odd. And they’re being guarded by 6 very heavily-armed large men. How strange.

Oh wait, NEVERMIND, those are murderers, not the landscaping crew.

Julia continues to walk up to the back entrance and realizes that she has now somehow unofficially been assigned “designated door holder-opener” for the bound criminals. This is perfect. Let’s have the unarmed random girl be the hospital ambassador for the shackled hardened criminals. "Here, Mr. 50-Years-To-Life, let me grab that door for you. Enjoy your stay. I hear the jello tastes great."

Small word, big impact

Scatter plot of Julia's freckles as the summer progresses

Oh geez.

A dialogue I happened to hear between an incoming first-year and his Dad during UVA orientation week:

Boy: “What the hell is a Rotunda, Dad?”
Dad: “It’s a round building, son.”

Welcome to college, kid. Good luck.
Helpful hint - start studying now.

Dear Bed Bath & Beyond,

First things first, your name is a little too intense. The "beyond" part could easily be replaced with "kitchenware" or “George Foreman grills” or even “storage bins.” The word “beyond” takes me to some magical place where streets are lined with down comforters and everyone is wearing Snuggies as people sip Brita-filtered water and enjoy cocktails in their brightly colored martini glasses while burgers are sizzling away on Calphalon grill pans. What a magical land, this “beyond.” How I wish to visit it.

I would like to congratulate you, however, on your brilliance at dominating the wedding registry market. Perhaps this is where the “beyond” comes into play. Bed, Bath & Our Customers Will Pay All Of Our Kids’ College Tuitions From All The Money They Spend On Endless Wedding Registry Gifts. (It’s ok to stick with BB&B, that name is a little long and might (just might) turn some people off.) And the free wrapping? You found my weakness, BB&B. You had me at “free.” You are so kind to throw in that silver-colored box and little white bow, how could I ever thank you enough? Yes, my silver box shows that I don’t really care to be creative nor cute nor thoughtful in my wrapping, but hey, we can’t all be Martha. BB&B, I can come in 30 minutes prior to a wedding shower, get a gift, have it wrapped, and still have time to smell all of the candle fragrances. You allow me to be ME, and I thank you for that.

Finally, I would like to propose a suggestion. You know how you shower my mailbox weekly with coupons? And then send me emails with coupons? And then advertise in magazines I read with coupons? Well, maybe - just MAYBE - you could go ahead and make the whole entire store 20% off. Just a suggestion.

Until 30 minutes prior to my next wedding shower,
Julia

Guilt

You know those surveys you sometimes get in the mail where you open up the envelope and you find cash inside? Where they’re saying “Thank you in advance!” by giving you a crisp, new $2 bill?

Those surveys make my life morally miserable.

I, of course, put the $2 in my wallet (oh, how novel, a $2 bill!), and proceed to neglect to fill out the survey. Then, every time I open my wallet, that beautiful, blemish-free $2 bill stands sentry like a fire alarm wired to my conscious, triggering my guilt every time I see it. GREAT, now I feel guilty over 2 DOLLARS. So, I inevitable take the 30 minutes out of my life to fill out a survey about bathroom cleaning products (oh joy). Meanwhile, I’m secretly amazed at the marketing geniuses behind this brilliant scam. Kudos, marketing geniuses. You got me with $2. Kudos.

Ctrl alt delete

You know those lovely moments when your computer freezes and you need to get whatever program that's not functioning properly (and ruining your life) shut down? That's where the "ctrl alt delete" function steps in to save the day. Just think - what if ctrl alt delete not only worked in PC-land, but also worked in real life?

Situations in the past that I would have loved to escape from:

A date takes you to the dollar movie theater and brings 2 candy bars (one for you, one for him) in his jacket pocket – ctrl alt delete

You get a ticket from a cop while on your bicycle – ctrl alt delete

You almost accidentally burn your parents’ house down with a pair of underwear (don’t ask) – ctrl alt delete

You come home and find live crabs swimming in a kiddy pool on your living room floor – ctrl alt delete

You’re skiing, you lose control, you completely take out a random Chinese lady, you break her skis, she gets belligerent, and you have to get the cops involved – ctrl alt delete

You have to go to the bathroom really bad when you are driving in the middle of nowhere and have seen no cars for miles, so you pull over to go and right then someone drives by and sees you plain as day; and then they wave – ctrl alt delete

Things that just plain don’t make sense

- Vibrating phones that are louder than ringing phones
- Expiration dates on water
- Why people buy 10 of an item when the sign says
“10 for $10”
- Cleaning before the cleaning lady comes
- Outfits for dogs
- Homeless beggars with cell phones

One bite.

Scene: You’ve gone out to lunch with a friend. You order the burger and he/she orders the turkey club. It’s some dang good food, and you’re both enjoying it immensely. However, towards the end of your meal, your friend decides that he/she is just too full to eat any more, and the towel (aka, napkin) is officially thrown in. Upon a quick peripheral glance at his/her plate, you see that there is the tiniest portion of food still remaining. In fact, it is perfectly bite-sized. It’s the ideal bite, just one, like a little amuse-bouche, waiting, calling to be eaten. You are suddenly unaware of what your friend is talking about because you are now fixated on how he/she could possibly give up at this crucial point in the meal. It’s like racing to the finish line, seeing it, and then saying, OK, well, I think I’ll go sit down, I’m so worn out. HOW DARE THEY. Is that a way to live life? The perfect bite, wasted. As you continue to stare, it begins to call your name, but you don’t want it, you’re busy focused on your own personal goals. Really, would that last 20 calories kill him/her? Would sudden heartburn or indigestion result from that last hurrah? No, Perfect-Bite-Waster, no. And as you pay the check and push back your chair to leave, you give one last cursory glance to the beautiful bite and promise yourself that you will never create this type of food debauchery. And 4 hours later, when your friend complains of the onset of hunger? You shake your head in silence and think – if only, if only.

Flow chart of emotions I feel when I see someone on a :

Elevator etiquette

Sharing an elevator with someone instantaneously creates some sort of a social black hole. What do you say? Where do you look? There’s the obligatory upward glance at the flashing floor number, but then you must make sure to never make eye contact, nor even remotely look in the direction of the person next to you. You ride in silence, constantly debating whether or not to comment on the slow speed of the elevator or how it must be “stopping at every floor today!” chuckle, chuckle. No, you hesitate, and instead ride in this socially awkward, sterile metal cage up to your floor where you let out a sigh of relief at surviving yet another socially confusing episode. And then you realize you dropped your keys back on the first floor and must go retrieve them.

Locker room lockers

Why is it that when there are 5 rows of 300 lockers in a locker room, the gym employee only gives out keys to lockers that are all on the same row? Is it lax employee training? Is it a disgruntled employee that just doesn’t care? Or is it the college guy who works at the front desk that thinks it would be funny to make all the women have lockers next to each other?

I think we have a winner.

Round manholes

Manholes are round so that the manhole covers can never fall into the hole.
BRILLIANT!

My ring is round yet it can fall down the sink drain.
WELL, CRAP.

The Handbook On Holding The Door Open For Someone

Page 1:
Situation: When you walk through the door you are:
(a) 5 feet in front of someone – go to page 2
(b) 12 feet in front of someone – go to page 3
(c) 20 feet in front of someone – go to page 4

Page 2:
5 FEET IN FRONT OF SOMEONE. Solution: Hold the door open for the next person. Your kindness will be greatly appreciated. You are an excellent human being. Congratulations.

Page 3:
12 FEET IN FRONT OF SOMEONE. Solution: Walk a little slower as you approach the door so that the other person can catch up and it’s not awkward for them. Then act as if you both happened to arrive at the door at the same time. Although you lost 5 precious seconds out of your day, you are an incredible, upstanding citizen. Congratulations.

Page 4:
20 FEET IN FRONT OF SOMEONE:
Question: What do you want to be perceived as?
(a) A jerk – go to page 5
(b) A nuisance– go to page 6
(c) A kind person – go to page 7

Page 5:
BE A JERK. Solution: Don’t hold the door open for the person. They are slow and too far away. Yes, the door may still be closing as they reach it, but it is fate and they should deal with it. You are a jerk. Congratulations.

Page 6:
BE A NUISANCE. Solution: Hold the door open for the person. However, since they are far away, they have to either:
(a) be a jerk themselves by walking at the same pace they were originally walking at and make you wait by the door, or
(b) awkwardly start to jog to the door so that you don’t have to wait too long

Due to the fact that option (b) happens roughly 80% of the time, your “kindness” goes completely unappreciated, because you have now made this person jog to their destination when they would have been just fine opening the door for themselves. This person must then thank you for something they don’t appreciate and you feel a strong sense of displeasure. Sadly, all you are is a nuisance. Congratulations.

Page 7:
BE A KIND PERSON. Solution: This option does not exist. Person was too far back. Please refer to pages 5 & 6.

Short conversations in passing

Social norm: "Hi." "Hi!" "How are you?" "I'm doing fine, you?" "I'm doing well, thanks." "Good seeing you." "Yes, same!" "Bye!" "Bye!"


Proposed new social norm (feel free to add your own twist each time): "Hi." "Hi!" "My dog died when I was three." "I saw a squirrel that ate cheese and ran into a wall." "That hairball smells like coffee." "Smiley faces creep me out." "Bye!" "Bye!"

My car lies to me

Levels of Awkwardness

Slightly awkward: getting a full body massage

Highly awkward: realizing that the guy who gave you the massage lives in your apartment complex and you see him all the time

Betty had a strange feeling that she was different from the others...

Gmail Ads

Gmail advertisements are like the annoying friend that wants to be a part of the conversation but always jumps in at the wrong time, talks about something you said 5 minutes ago, and offers you advice you really don't want.

I told a friend in an email that I was getting my hair cut on Saturday. Five emails later, a Gmail ad tells me of a great female mustache waxing kit, while another offers me a scholarship to the School of Cosmetology and Esthetics in Boise, Idaho. FANTASTIC, Google, that's exactly what I need. You people are marketing geniuses.

Boise, Idaho, here I come!

That ONE SMALL DETAIL...

Guy you like but don't know well magically finds you on facebook:
YES! He somehow found me, this is GREAT!!

Guy you DON'T like and don't know well magically finds you on facebook:
CREEEEEPY!! Red flag! Red flag! How could he find me with the little information I gave him about myself? Even I can't find myself with what he knew about me! I have a stalker now! I need a restraining order.

Here's to you, Roller Shoe Inventor Man

Roller Shoe Inventor Man, you are the man. Never again will just walking on shoes be our only option. You started a trend that swept a nation off its feet. Kids across the country adore you, Roller Shoe Inventor Man, and all adults wish it could be socially acceptable to wear roller shoes too. You've enabled human beings to glide as if floating on air at any moment's notice. You've kept kids from that oh-so-boring monotony of walking, who needs THAT anyways?? Roller Shoe Inventor Man, where did you adopt your brilliance from? Rollerskates and rollerblades? Those are things of the past! Skateboards? Why, those can't even be attached to your feet! Roller shoes, however, WOW. Here's to you, Roller Shoe Inventor Man, we glide by and salute you.


PS - Kids on roller shoes annoy the crap out of me.
That is all.

W.T.M.O.P.F.L.O.A.Y.F.S. (Ways To Make Other People Feel Left Out and You Feel Special)

Acronyms.

A woman’s interpretation of a guy’s smile when passing on the street

1) Eyebrows lift, lips slightly purse up: he’s into himself, but being socially polite

2) Eyes squint, cheeks raise, mouth is closed, head bobs down: he’s a nice guy, but just happy because he has a girlfriend

3) Eyes squint more, cheeks raise, mouth is open, head bobs up: DOES HE LIKE ME?!?

4) Eyebrows lift, eyes squint, cheeks raise, mouth is open, head bobs down, left eye winks: he must be from the south

Washington, DC, Saturday, May 16, 2009:
6:43 pm:
- Julia arrives at gas station, pumps gas

6:47 pm:
- Julia goes inside, inquires about restroom; instructed to go around building, warned someone is in restroom with key

6:48 pm:
- Julia finds restroom, proceeds to wait

6:49 pm:
- Julia continues to wait

6:50 pm:
- continues to wait

6:51 pm:
- still waiting

6:52 pm:
- Julia considers options; no other gas stations/restaurants around

6:53 pm:
- Door opens, large black man emerges, looks bewildered; surprised to see Julia
- Julia tells of desire to use restroom
- Man pauses, looks around
- Man puts both hands up, declares entry into restroom not wise
- Man uses phrase, “girl, I just blew it UP in there”
- Julia busts out laughing

6:54 pm:
- Julia continues to laugh uncontrollably
- Man continues to use words “girl” and “blew up”
- Man suggests waiting at least 5 minutes before entering
- Julia still laughing uncontrollably
- Julia happy she hasn’t peed in pants
- Julia thanks man for honesty
- Man thanks God for restroom
- Julia still laughing

6:55 pm:
- Julia backs away, tells of ability to wait
- Man agrees it is wise
- Julia and Man part ways

Charlottesville, VA, Wednesday, May 20, 2009:
8:30 am:
- Julia still laughing

Last but not least

The phrase “last but not least” must never be used again. Let me present my case.

When we come to the last person in a list, it is far too common to say, “and, last but not least is ___!” If we’re going to make all things fair, I believe it is only right that we should start off by saying, “Now, first but not most, ___.” The first person should know right at the get-go that they really aren’t all that special. Then, what about the people in the middle? Let’s tell them, “middle but not average!” However, if the middle aren’t average, and the first aren’t most, and the last aren’t least, then WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Henceforth, I proclaim that the phrase “last but not least” is an utter logical conundrum that should be banished from the spoken English language effective immediately.

Thank you.

Riding someone’s bumper

When a person pulls out in front of you in their car and cuts you off, it is your moral duty to then ride their bumper. It is not you being obnoxious, it is you serving your fellow citizens in teaching this person a lesson. You can feel a sense of satisfaction from this “good” deed you are doing and completely write-off the fact that this “bad driver” ahead of you thinks you are a jerk. It is ok, you are helping him.

Haikus

Why do haikus make
it sound like you have a hard
time catching your breath?

A game of MASH played by Oprah as a child

Harmless things that freak certain people out

gravity: base jumpers
snow: Texans
water: airport security
melting ice: Al Gore
trees: skiers
sunshine: albinos

crazy? or bluetooth?

A homeless man walks by talking to himself. You think, “Wow, he must be crazy.” He turns his head and, surprisingly, has a bluetooth in his ear. “Oh, I guess I was wrong,” you think. Next a man in a business suit walks by talking to himself. “Definitely on his bluetooth,” you say. He turns his head and starts running towards you slinging bird feces, chewing his business cards, and screaming that he has gonorrhea. Nope. You were wrong again. Crazy.

Slipping on something wet

Kitchen floor = acceptable
Public pool = questionable
Pet store = not acceptable

Playing tic-tac-toe

Nicknames

Made-up or shortened versions of our names make us happy. It’s the thought that, “Hey, Suzie really likes me, she called me something special.” When in reality, Suzie doesn’t quite care for your name because she had a friend named Meredith who stole her boyfriend in the 7th grade and she now hates that name with a passion. So she calls you Mer. And you lover her for it.

Equation to calculate for when PDA is acceptable

(her age + his age/how public the place is)
x my personal dating status
x 100
= % acceptability

10 and 2

Gone are the days of being advised to drive with your hands at “10 and 2” on the wheel. That’s right, it’s now DANGEROUS. You might just break your fingers, wrist, or arms (not to mention your whole body, because guess what – you just crashed your car). Back off, 10 and 2, it’s time for 8 and 4 to take the driver’s seat. That’s right, you had your reign for years, let some other clock numbers spend some time in the spotlight. 12 and 6, you’re rouge numbers, we won’t acknowledge you. 7 and 5, keep working hard. Maybe in another 30 years you’ll have your day at the wheel.

my ability to focus, after a hot guy enters the room, over time

book smarts do not equal street smarts

Book smarts:
Pepper spray is a highly caustic chemical that, upon entering any facial orifice, will cause extreme stimulation of the pain-sensing nerves and will result in the body’s production (to little avail) of fluids to combat this foreign substance.

Street smarts:
Pepper spray is sitting at home on the counter in my other purse as I walk back to my car downtown at 1 am in the morning.

pile of clothes

There is no better feeling in the world than putting on fresh, clean clothes. However, there is no worse chore than folding them. You curse at the socks that slipped through the “pre-wash” cracks and missed the inside-out-flip as you begrudgingly return them to their rightful orientation. And the kleenex that hid better than Anne Frank in your jean pocket? The one that lovingly left you with tiny pieces of snowflake-like flecks all over your clothes? You silently rejoice at its watery demise. It deserved its fate, but unfortunately you have to hand-pick its remains off the entire load of darks you just washed.

things that make me both happy and disgusted at the same time

- old couples making out in public
- cleaning my hairbrush
- construction workers whistling at me
- squashing a cockroach with my shoe

facebook status

Why is it that we must update people we knew in junior high, our ex-boyfriend, and that history professor from college about our hour-by-hour status throughout the day? Do we really think that Billy from Miss Smith’s class 17 years ago cares that we’re “happy that our car passed inspection!” or “so tired from a long day but excited about eating some french fries!” Somehow, amazingly and indescribably, YES. They care.