Tag Archive: britney spears


On Monday morning, one of my coworkers alerted me that the world was predicted to be ending this coming Friday, as in Tomorrow. She said she heard on the radio that we could forget about coming into work on Saturday because the world was ending Friday night. I don’t know if this was a national prediction or if it was just one that was spread through West Michigan, but either way, I guess people were pretty serious about it on Monday morning.

Obviously, she was sharing this news with us to mock the crazy people who 1.) predicted this, and 2.) called into the radio station to discuss their plans for the week to prepare for the world ending on Friday night.  In fact, the seven minutes following her divulgence of this information, those of us in the office mocked the general public and made sarcastic comments about not being “saved” and how we’d be left on earth to face Hell (except I was serious about experiencing hell- because let’s get real, I’m definitely on God’s shit list).

Seriously, if I’m going to believe anyone about the world ending, I’m going to believe the Mayans or Aztecs or whoever the fuck came up with that calendar that ends in 2012. (I’m clearly well-versed in end-of-the-world conspiracy theories.) I just feel like that’s probably legit.  At least, more legit than some rando hyper-religious alcoholic/meth-head cult leader sitting in a lazyboy in the middle of a corn field during his four day bender shouting at his cows that the world is going to end. I mean, that profile may not be accurate, but it’s probably pretty close.

If the world does end tomorrow night, though, I’m gonna be pretty pissed.  I did not live this week as if it was my last.  I mean, I did get drunk on a Monday night and I did get to color code my planner up to the first week of July, but that is just not enough.  I mean, just today I spent my free time this evening finding a new ringtone, doodling in my econ notebook because I didn’t feel like thinking, poking around on facebook, twitter and tumblr, making dinner and taking care of Chiefy, who, incidentally, is experiencing some health issues.

The world just can’t end tomorrow. I haven’t had a chance to wear out my new ringtone. I haven’t had a chance to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. I haven’t gone on my Study Abroad trip yet! I still have Taylor Swift’s concert to look forward to in July. My driver’s license doesn’t expire until 2013! I have food in the fridge that is still good after tomorrow.

Even if the world ends tomorrow and a bunch of people get to be saved by Jesus, I hope I’m left here.  With all the other ruffians and rejects. It’ll probably be more fun anyway because the only people left will be those with a sick sense of humor and a moral compass that doesn’t point due north, like myself. We’ll have a blast. And that way, I can still use my non-expired driver’s license and enjoy all the food still in the fridge. And all of Hollywood will still be here (because they’re fucked), so I can still see HP7.2 in July when I get home from Europe. Basically, my life will be no different.

So, I guess, here’s what I have to say about the end of the world, should it come tomorrow night: bring it. I’m ready.

I guess this might see unrelated, but maybe I'll do this sexy hair shake in preparation for the world ending.

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Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

I thought I would share with you, my friends, just a few things I am obsessed with lately.  I usually throw in, like, one or two examples in any given post, but I don’t see why I can’t just put the major ones in one place for you. You know, in case you want to be exactly like me and like all the same things I do.  If that’s the case, then, DUDE, it’s your lucky day!!

Dance Music

I’m obsessed with my itunes playlist for when I workout.  I add to it constantly and spent a lotttt of time putting songs that put me in the zone into one place.  There is nothing worse than sweating your butt off to Ke$ha’s “Blow” for the song to end and segue into a slow jam like “Not Like the Movies” by Katy Perry. Don’t get me wrong- I LOVE Katy Perry, but I cannot keep my heart rate up if a song with less than, like, 120 beats per minute.  I got some ideas from searching online for fitness playlists, and Shape Magazine’s website proved to be pretty helpful.  Another thing I did was use my library’s website to find mix CDs of songs I like that were remixed for “the club”- which means that a techno-y beat was added and they’re usually sped up quite a bit.

S&M Remix

This gets its own bullet point because it’s just THAT good.  As you can see from above, I’m currently listening to Rihanna’s S&M Remix with Britney Spears. Oh. My. Gawd. I cannot get enough.  I listen to it on repeat and can’t stop.

You must purchase it on itunes.  Don’t illegally download that shit. I don’t believe in it (when it’s an artist I like).

Harry Potter

I am sure I have probably shared this with you before, but I am rereading all of the Harry Potter books.  And by “rereading” I mean “listening to them on CD because I’m too lazy to actually read and I enjoy listening to books in the car since my drive to work is 40+ minutes.”

I’m currently listening to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.  Every single day, I listen and I just can’t believe how amazing these books are. Every single day, I am amazed by how much I had forgotten. Every single day, I get angry that so much is cut from the movies.  Every single day, I send angry text messages to Drew about that fact. Every single day, I try to work in Harry Potter vocabulary into my everyday lexicon.  For example, I used the following sentence today:

“Ohhh it makes me want to crucio the movie makers!”

See? I would totally unforgivable-curse the shit out of the powers that be in Hollywood that decided that the Harry Potter movies shouldn’t be like 8 hours long and shouldn’t include all the awesome little details I love about the books.  No big deal.  A lifetime in Azkaban for using an unforgivable curse? I guess since it would benefit the greater good, I could take the fall for that one.

Ron + Hermione = ❤

Yeah, I’m a huge nerd.

I don’t care what you think of me but I think that the two of them are just adorable. If you ‘ship anything other than Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny, you’re retarded and we can’t be friends.  I mean, go ahead and do whatever you want, but know there will be consequences.

They’re just too adorable for words.

Love love love!!

The Office

I’ve been watching it on DVD lately and hate myself for not getting into it when it first aired back when I was just a baby in high school. Okay, so that’s obviously the reason I never got into it. That and I tend to jump on board to things way after the fact. Oh well.  All that matters is that I’ve seen the light and love it now.

I just finished the fifth season on DVD and now have to wait forever and ever for my library to let me watch season six, since I’m, like, 16 or 16 holds. No big deal, I’ll just watch it in four months. I’m not mad.

I should also mention this: subset of this obsession can be my love of Jim and Pam on the show and just my general adoration of John Krasinski.  He is a chunk of nerd-alert, awkward-face-making, man-sass sexiness.

That Emily Blunt is one lucky bitch.

Mmmkay, guys.  There are five of several hundred obsessions that I have.  Please make a note of these and brush up on these things.  That way we will have lots to talk about and you can truly begin your mission of becoming just like me, because I know that’s what you’re working towards in life.

Oh, ps. I’m also in a really good mood right now because I just took my final for class and now the hell that I endured for the past seven weeks is officially behind me. Win. Win. Win. (#charliesheen #winning)

Well. I’ve been sitting here for 51 minutes trying to think of something to say.

I finally came up with this:

This picture is pretty much an excellent way to sum up a night that Megan and I will never forget, and a night that Rob will never remember. Because he was blackout drunk and crawled through East Lansing trying to get home after we decided it was totally fine for him to leave by himself while we hung out with the complete strangers we found.

And by found, I mean that I flagged down some random Escalade, jumped inside and told Rob and Megan it was totally fine and to get the fuck in the car, and GO GO GO!!

Yeah. Really safe.

A complete blur. And shady as fuck.

We had been drunk for a while and looking for something to do in East Lansing after the MSU vs OSU game. (Can I just tell you how much I love game day?! SO MUCH!)  We were hanging out near Harpers when we decided that we should go to my friend’s apartment because she was having people over. We would hang out for a little bit and go to the bars later, because oh, yeah, it was still light out and too early to be as drunk as we were.

The only thing was that we needed a way to get to my friend’s apartment, which was hella far away.  Instead of calling a cab or even trying to call a friend who could drive, I just decided to flag some vehicle down. Like I’m in NYC or something, trying to hail a taxi. Who am I?

So, yeah, I flag down this white Escalade, which is filled with three or four (I can’t remember) guys.  They stopped and, for some reason, let me hop in.  For some reason, Rob and Megan followed after me and away we went to my friend’s apartment.

Talk about poor life choice. And awkward city.

Shenanigans.

Anyway, I can’t remember what happened, like the exact events of the evening. I do remember Rob, Megan and I going into my friend’s bathroom and all three of us peeing in there. At the same time. Not okay.

I also remember one of the boys changing his pants in a parking lot.

And I remember drunk-dialing my dad.

We also went to one of the bars in East Lansing for a while and danced our faces off. That was when we let Rob walk himself home despite the fact that he couldn’t see.

There’s also a memory of Megan peeing outside, in public. Twice.

We also walked all the way back to my apartment and kept Erica up until, like, 7am.  I made two of the boys watch High School Musical because I didn’t want to have sex with either of them.

The best part was that after all of the shenanigans and staying up until 8am with a strange man I had met just by jumping in his vehicle, I had to go to a staff meeting at work.  I showed up, all disheveled and loopy from a lack of sleep and super hungover.

Megan and I always reminisce on the shitshow that night turned out to be.  Generally, I just consider myself on the up and up as long as I’m not hopping in vehicles filled with strange men I don’t know.  And when I’m not pounding 100 proof shots of Captain Morgan.

We also try to embrace the whole no man left behind mentality.

Unless it’s Seneca- we usually let her go wherever she wants.

Or Leah- but that was one time, and had I been aware enough to be a part of the decision, I never would have let her wander East Lansing by herself during St. Patrick’s Day weekend. That was not my fault. And things worked out… kinda. She found her way home eventually.

instead of writing a proper post, i did the following:

  • studied all day for my finance final exam
  • bombed my finance final exam
  • came home
  • emptied the dishwasher
  • loaded the dishwasher
  • cleaned out the fridge
  • fed the dog his glucosamine
  • saw the new britney spears video for “hold it against me”
  • half-watched jersey shore
  • talked to seneca
  • decided to watch national treasure before i go to bed (even though i hate nicholas cage)

i was all cosy in my bed when i realized it was nearly midnight and I hadn’t posted. ugh.

i’m going to bed. i don’t feel much like writing/sharing. i’m sorry. my exam kinda bummed me out. 😦

We here are all fairly familiar with crazy.

I know this to be true because when you stop by Adventures from Grandma’s Attic (which, incidentally, is no longer really applicable as a title… hm, I should remedy that….) you get regular doses of crazy from this girl. You get to read all about my tendency to talk to animals, how I get overly emotional on a whim at seriously random shit, the irrational fears I possess, my paranoia about death, the blunders I have had in the kitchen, and various other bouts of crazy.

This kind of crazy is totally okay with me. I even like it.  I’m quite fond of my brand of crazy.

I’ll even be fair and say that Britney Spears’ brand of crazy, while scary and unfortunate (lest we forget the shaving of the head, the attacking of that SUV with an umbrella, and the weird “friendship” with Sam Lufti), didn’t even deter me from being a fan.

I’m an equal-opportunity fan of crazy.

The brand of crazy I’m not okay with? Tom Cruise.

Sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here!

Ick.

Seriously.

Gross.

Dude, something about that couch-jumping incident just turned me off. Scientology also kinda freaks me out. I don’t know too much about it, but it seems a little cult-ish. Also, who the fuck divorces Nicole Kidman?! Back in the day, when she wasn’t addicted to Botox, she was going places and she was gorgeous. You don’t just bail on that. Unless you’re an insecure prick… Just sayin’.

With all this said, you might be surprised to know that it seems that I have come down with a case of the I-Heart-Tom-Cruise-Movies-And-Can’t-Seem-To-Get-Enough’s.

It started out innocently enough.

A few weeks ago, we bought Knight & Day on Blu-Ray. It had just been released and I was planning on staying in one Saturday night (story of my life!).

That same day, we bought Jerry Maguire on Blu-Ray because we didn’t own it.

Last weekend, I watched Top Gun for the first time.

Uhm, hello, why did NO ONE tell me Goose dies?! I HAD NO IDEA!! It was the kind of devastation I faced when I saw Up Close & Personal for the first time when I found out that Robert Redford’s character died and Michelle Pfeiffer was devastated. Oh. Em. Gee. It’s just heartbreaking. If you haven’t seen it, I apologize for ruining the movie for you, but you simply must see it. You’ll love it. I know it!

Anyway, yeah. Goose. Shit, that was sad! I really thought that it was just a love story that made Take my Breath Away really popular. I didn’t know it was an epic bromance movie too! Oh, be still my beating heart, I love bromances! They’re precious.

That brings us to today: I bought A Few Good Men from Target for $5. I love $5 movies. And A Few Good Men is a great fucking movie. I watched it the second I got home today.

And now, because I ate way too much cookie dough when I made chocolate chip cookies this afternoon, and I consumed a great amount of chocolate, I just have the need to watch Jerry Maguire.

Pretty soon I’m gonna have to go buy Rain Man, because that’s a great movie too. And Risky Business because I haven’t’ seen that and now’s as good a time as any.

It would seem that I’m a Tom Cruise fan. Officially. And there’s really not a whole lot I can do about it. It just happened.

But I’d just like to reiterate: he freaks me out.

I was going to try my hand at a domestic skill today.

Actually, I did try my hand at a domestic skill today. It wasn’t just an intention; I actually did it.

I planned on taking pictures of this foray into “cooking” and provide a little how-to for all of you to be able to try out the easiest little snack ever.

And when I say planned, I actually mean that I did take pictures.  But then… well, then I stopped taking pictures.

Please note that I did just say that this was the “easiest little snack ever.”

Well, let’s just get into this. And you’ll see what happened.

Here’s what you need:

Easiest. Snack. Ever.

Chocolate kisses, pretzels and M&Ms. That’s seriously it.

So, here’s a very important step. You must unwrap the chocolate kisses.

Next, you must place the pretzels onto a cookie sheet. Any size cookie sheet will do. And you don’t have to be as anal as I was about the placement of the pretzels but they should not overlap.

Once you’ve placed your pretzels on your cookie sheet, top each pretzel with a Kiss.

Okay, here’s where I stopped taking pictures.

I thought I was doing everything right. I had the oven set to 300 degrees Fahrenheit and I let the pretzel/kiss combo hang out for a couple minutes.

What is supposed to happen is that the Kiss will soften just enough that it is easy to push an M&M onto the top of it and it’ll smush down just the tiniest bit. Then you let them hang out to cool down and harden into one pretzel/kiss/M&M creation. Then you eat and enjoy.

But, uhm, that didn’t happen for me.

When I went to push an M&M onto one of the kisses, it didn’t work. There was no smush. The kiss was still hard. I thought I hadn’t waited long enough. Maybe a minute isn’t long enough.  So I put it back in the oven. And when I tried again, it still wasn’t soft enough. So then I turned the temperature of the oven up.  Like, way up. (I don’t know why I thought that was the best idea! Domestic skills clearly are not an instinct I possess!!) A minute later, I went to check on them and push an M&M into a kiss and ohhhhh no.

The chocolate had totally burned. And everything looked… not right.

I think it was just moments short of catching fire, to be honest.

So I looked at it and felt disappointed in myself. Then I threw it away and gave up.

It was never really a mystery to us why it seemed like our entire floor in the dorms in college hated us.

Sarah and I lived in the room at the very end of the hallway. Our perfect square of a room was the gathering place every Thursday night to watch The OC and later Grey’s Anatomy. Our room was the meeting place of the whole group of us for those three or four nights a week we went out to parties. And later, our sophomore year of college, our room was next door to two of our good friends, whose room would blare with the latest Justin Timberlake song or One Republic’s “Apologize” before it was cool and overplayed on the radio.

We did dumb shit, like dress up like the some cracked out version of the Spice Girls and sing really, really loudly after 2 in the morning. You know, when the whiners on our floor were sleeping, and had been since 11 pm.

As a group, we’re loud. I mean, I scream and screech a lot, I laugh loudly, and I shout when I’m happy or excited. Multiply that by at least four and you’ve got my core group of friends in college. And we were together constantly.

Add in the fact that we lived in an all-girls dorm. In the really, really old dorms. As in, I lived in the same dormitory my grandmother lived in. The same dormitory my mother lived in. It’s old. We also lived in the dorm mostly populated by the college of music kids. They’re all artsy and hipster-y and obviously too smart and better than us to get loud and crazy all the fucking time, like we did. The best part about our dorm is that it was the closet to the street with all the bars on it. And it was relatively close to a lot of the off-campus housing and greek life. (And let’s get real: I loved me some fraternity parties before I was of the legal drinking age.)

I think this photo adequately demonstrates the potential Le Le and I have when it comes to getting crazy. lolz (Ps. Le, does that headband look familiar? bahaha)

My point is, our floor hated us.

We were constantly hushed and asked nicely to be quiet. And when all else failed, we were told on. When we realized that the RA’s were about to come bust us, we’d quickly finish the shot glass full of five o’clock vodka on Leah’s or my desk, turn the music off, grab our coats and fly out the door.

I mean, we didn’t want to get written up. Again. Or have to pour our alcohol down the bathroom sink. Again.

Even when we weren’t drinking (illegally) in the dorms, we were loud. And probably really, really obnoxious. I’ll leave you with this one memory I have, a memory that really reinforced the fact that everyone on our floor just did not get me, or my friends.

You know how in college dorms there are all kinds of random-ass signs for random-ass shit? Like, sign up for ballroom dancing in one of the rooms by the cafeteria, or do you need a tutor for some really hard singing class you’re taking? Well, I can’t remember why we decided to make a sign but one night we did, and we hung it on the walls all over our hallway, and all of the doors to the bathrooms, and the mirrors, and the door to the stairs.

It was a nice sign. It didn’t ask anyone to donate their first born to some demonic cult or require anyone to spend any money on anything. It was just a nice little sign to remind people to have a good day and to provide a little pick-me-up. Sometimes people just need that. Classes are hard. It’s really hard to walk fifty feet to a building across a nice little field to go sing for a couple hours a day. And it gets cold in Michigan.  And sometimes blowing off class on a Friday to play Ultimate Frisbee in Adam’s Field is just really… hard. So we posted our sign to let people know we cared.

Our sign was not appreciated. When we woke up the next morning, every single sign had been torn down and thrown away.

The people on our floor were dicks. And they hated us.

I slept like a baby last night. (Why is that an expression? Babies are terrible sleepers. Just ask anyone who has an infant.) (I guess what I’m trying to say is that I slept really, really well last night.)

I think it had something to do with the fact that I didn’t sleep alone, like I had the previous two nights.

Something just wasn’t right the nights before. I missed having someone to hang onto, snuggle up to. But alas, he returned last night and I wasn’t alone anymore.

He’s the perfect sleeping companion; he doesn’t snore or breathe too loud. He doesn’t steal all the covers  or hog the entire bed. He doesn’t kick in the dead of night and give me bruises all over. He doesn’t breathe on my neck and create so much body heat that I feel like I’m in a sweat lodge, ready to die and/or hallucinate. He’s also a complete gentleman (read: he doesn’t grope me or try to make me have sex when I don’t feel like it).

Okay. I know you wanna know who this diamond in the rough is. You’re just dyingggg. Well, my lovelies, I’ll tell you.

LP.

isn't he precious??

LP stands for Little Pillow. He’s little. He’s a pillow. Makes sense.

I took pictures of him with his clothes on, even though Leah likes to make him naked and steal him.  (Or put him in her shirt and pretend her eggo is preggo and let me take glamour shots of it.) Drew likes to take LP away from me and hide him. And punch him so he’s not as fluffy. It breaks my cold, black heart.

the scariest cat ever.

SO. I remembered that I had had to wash him because Stella is evil and was mad at me and peed on my bed two nights ago. Again. Sick. (She is evil and one of those cats that would smother you in your sleep and suck the life right out of you.) That little bitch is nottttt allowed in my room and I curse her existence any time I see her .You would think she’d get the hint… (maybe that’s why she does this to me??) Anyway, despite not actually being peed on, LP was close enough that I was like, listen, buddy, there’s no way. You gotta get yourself cleaned up before you can get close to thissssssss. So I washed him and then forgot about him.  He basically just hung out in the dryer for two days. NBD.

But THEN I remembered that he was indeed in the dryer, all clean and not smelling like cat pee (which, by the way, is the most disgusting smell EVER.) so I went and got him. It was a SQUEEEEE! moment. Reeeeuniiiited and it feeeeeels so gooooood!!! He was the fluffiest I had EVER seen him. It was glorious.

I immediately went to show Drew, who was already in bed, giggling like a little girl to video highlights from the world cup (I don’t understand sports?).

Oh my gawd, Drew, look at LP! He’s so fluuuuuuuffy! Ewe’s not fat, ewe’s just fluffy!

???? *unamused face*

LOOK at him!

What the fuck is wrong with you? And why are you not wearing pants?!

I didn’t respond, I just hugged LP closer. (He was naked. LP was. Not Drew. Thought I’d make the clarification.) Plus, Drew should be used to me not wearing pants at this point in our lives.

Drew held out his hand, like he wanted me to hand over LP.

Dude. I know better. You’re gonna punch him and make him less fluffy. Or you’ll rub your sack on him. Not happening.

I promise I won’t. I just want to see how fluffy he is.

I don’t trust you.

Katie, I promise. Let me see him.

Okay. (I’m retarded.)

Drew squeezed him and punched him several times before I could rip LP from his grip. 😦

just for the sake of comparison. LP is on the left, all cute and tiny. And on the right is a regular sized, fancy pillow. All huge. And not as cute.