Tag Archive: tripod


So, this month’s Cosmo finally made it to my house.  You know, the one with Rihanna on the cover.

This one:

I don’t know why I get this magazine because I think most of it is stupid.  I enjoy the celebrity “interviews” and the beauty section, but that’s about it.

Anyway, I found something awesome in this month’s magazine. And it was in neither of the sections I just mentioned.

Cosmopolitan writer Jessica Knoll wrote an article in the You You You section entitled “50 Things You Should Have Never Stopped Doing.”  I saw this and was like I bet I’m awesome enough to not have stopped doing most of this stuff, because I still have my child-like wonder and enthusiasm.  Well, that and the fact that the very first thing on the list was something I definitely still do.  I will share with you now the list (out of 50) of things other people must have stopped doing but shouldn’t have that I still do.

1.)   Listen to the Spice Girls

Uhm, duh.

2.)  Doing the “Beep the Horn” gesture to truck drivers.

If I had my own computer, I could share photographic evidence. Alas, some other time.

3.)  Watching a TV show over the phone with your bestie so you can ZOMG over it together in real time.

Erica and I try to watch Glee and Teen Mom via instant message!

4.)  Driving around aimlessly, listening to John Mayer, and pretending that he’s still the sweet, soulful high school outcast who worships your wonderland body from afar.

5.)  Taking naps- get up early this weekend, run errands, be productive. Then come home and crash on the couch. It’s never going to be as good as it was after class, but at least you’re not snoozing on a futon.

Story. Of. My. Life.

6.)  Making Saturday-night plans on Saturday night.

7.)  Holding your breath when you pass a graveyard.

I did this just last week- NO JOKE.

8.)  Making cookies for the sole purpose of eating the raw batter.

9.)  Designing the cover of a mix CD with a Sharpie.

10.)Flip cup- if you had room for it in your dorm, you have room for it now.

Two weekends ago, Sen and I held it down.

11.) Always having a crush… even if you’re in a relationship… even if he’s the Jersey Shore look-alike at your gym who you would nevah date in real life.

12.)Dressing festively for the Fourth of July (and Valentine’s Day, St. Patty’s Day, etc.)

Hellooooo theme days at work!

13.)Wearing your hair in braided pigtails… guys dig that sort of naughty schoolgirl thing, in case you didn’t know.

I do a lottt of weird, ugly stuff with my hair when I’m doing homework in my room by myself.

14.)Drinking chocolate milk- research found it’s one of the best things you can drink after a workout.

15.)Sleepovers! Cover the living room floor with blankets, pillows, snacks, and since you’re legal now, lot’s of wine.

Long Live the Tripod!

16.)Shopping with Mom… she’s like a living 50-percent-off coupon.

17.)Picking out your outfit- accessories and all- the night before work as if it were the first day of school.

18.)Treating September like it’s the beginning of the year. Buy new office supplies (including cute erasers), and pledge to get an A in memo writing…

19.)Spending all day in bed watching bad Lifetime movies starring Tiffani-Amber Thiessen and Tori Spelling.

Okay, so it’s not even half but some of the shit that lady wrote were things I never did in the first place. Some of it was stupid. Or some of it was stuff that I wish I still did.

What are some of the things you used to do when you were younger that you wish you still did!?

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I don’t know how to reach you.

I don’t know how to be there for you. I don’t know what to say or how to talk to you.

I know that you’re going through something and that nothing I say or do will make it hurt less.

You’re my best friend and I love you. I love you beyond words and it hurts me that I can’t help you.

Because you’re hurting, I let the fact that you hurt my feelings go.  I didn’t tell you that it hurts me when you don’t tell me these things. I didn’t tell you that I can still hear your voice in my head, replaying that time you told me I’m not good at feelings and that I’m the last person on earth with whom anyone should talk about emotions. I didn’t tell you that hearing about what happened after the fact, after you had already spilled your heart to the other leg of the Tripod, as you do every single time you have any real emotions, I felt sad and left-out.

I don’t tell you these things because, this time, it’s not about me.

You were there for me when I needed you. When I cried countless times because my heart hurt over the complete deterioration of the friendship I had with my so-called best friend, you were there. Even when I repeated myself and when you couldn’t understand how I could be feeling the way I was, you listened. You listened, and you cared, and you showed up when I needed you.

I’m so sorry that you feel I haven’t done the same for you.

I wish you’d talk to me and stop shutting me out.  I wish things didn’t feel so weird. I don’t understand what happened or even how to make it better.

I don’t know what to say.

Sometimes people just need space. Sometimes it just takes time to sort through all of those thoughts and feelings. That’s what I thought I was doing, giving you time and space to feel sad and mend your broken heart.  But it’s been a few days now and I haven’t heard anything and we haven’t talked.  I don’t like how we left things.

I don’t know how to make this better. You know I’m no good with confrontation, not when it’s something like this.  Not when it feels like there’s something as awesome as the Tripod at stake.  Things feel fragile and I can’t see where to step to make a move.

For once, I feel like I don’t know you. I feel like I don’t know how to read you. You feel so far away. I can’t figure out what you’re thinking or try to guess how you’d respond to any of the actions I have almost made.

I just miss you is all. I want things to go back to normal, and I want you to talk to me. I want to be there for you. I want you to tell me that you’re hurting but that our friendship matters.

I don’t know how to reach you.

Since I started blogging, almost a whole year ago, there as not been one day that I have missed.  Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, like clockwork, I have showed up and put something out there for someone, anyone, to read.

Yesterday, for the first time in almost a year, I went AWOL.

I just didn’t show up.

So, for you who were waiting with bated breath, I apologize. Similarly, if you were worried I had died or had been sucked up by my chest (please reference Dane Cook) by aliens, I’m glad to inform you I am just fine.

What happened is that I actually just got swept up in the long, holiday weekend and forgot it was Sunday.

In fact, this weekend is a whirlwind of activity.

I showed up to my dad’s house ready for a weekend of drunken debauchery with friends and family by the pool in his backyard. But what actually happened was that I arrived at the restaurant for dinner like an hour later than I had originally told everyone I would be in town. Only, after I arrived, I promptly informed my dad that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I peace’d out.  I went back to the house where I found a bathroom just in time to puke my guts out. After throwing up nothing but water and bile (and oh yeah, those two or three Advil I took on an empty stomach- I’m an idiot), I ate exactly two and a half saltine crackers and fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up, everyone was arriving back home, with the food I had ordered in hand.

After that, Seneca and I went to bed early and watched some Forensic Files.

Saturday was even more of a blur.  The day lasted for-fucking-ever.

In a nutshell, the rest of the weekend happened as follows: I probably caught cancer from this shady-as-fuck restaurant called Hibachi Sushi Buffet (it was not my choice), hit my face against the bottom of the pool,  actually won a couple rounds of flip-cup, my computer died/broke, we ate our weight in pulled pork sandwiches, Megan accidentally dumped her almost-entirely-full drink in my lap at the bar we went to, Drew and I got into a physical altercation, Megan walked out at 2am with no word to Seneca or myself, both Seneca and I ended up in tears at some point, made weird references to Hilary Duff for no reason, saw Hangover II, and when we were alerted of bad weather we played a rousing game of Life where I pretended I found out I’m barren and will never bear children(LOL), we also watched a fuck-ton of Lifetime (yeah, including William & Kate, the movie), I quoted William Shakespeare to Seneca in a normal conversation, and I fell in the lake again tonight while trying to get in the kayak.

WINS ALL AROUND.

I promise things will go back to normal.

My emotions are all over the place lately.

I mean, it’s a well known fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, but it’s getting a little crazy.

I think the looming end of Harry Potter is to blame. Honestly.

For the past few months, I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks from the very beginning of the series. I am finally a little over half-way through the seventh book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but it’s been a long road.  I’m just so invested in them and I’m going to be really sad once the last movie comes out and ends it all. I know that the books and movies will live on, but for the past ten years, it’s like I have had either a book or a movie to look forward to. It’s all just going to be over.

(Oh hey, Melodramatic-Katie. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!)

The thing is… since I’ve been breathing Harry Potter for the past few months, my mind is pretty much saturated with Harry Potter information. I use Harry Potter references in my everyday conversations. I’m not mad about this at all, but I think it concerns others, or just leaves them feeling confused. (And I really wouldn’t consider this an unhealthy addiction or obsession or anything, seriously.  I mean, I know someone who is inappropriately obsessed with something of late and I am nowhere near her level of insanity. I just wanted to make that clear… lol.)

Back to my emotions… I promise all of this is relevant.

I do, however, want to preface this example of out-of-control emotions with the fact that I happened to be intoxicated when this event occurred and that this might not count.  So, a few weeks ago, my brother and I had some people over to his house to hang out (and then The Tripod left to go to the bars- you know how we do.) and get crazy. Right before we left, I’m actually not sure what triggered this but whatever, we ended up shouting curses and jinxes at each other. Like, we were having our very own wizard’s duel.  It started between the two other legs of the tripod and myself but then Drew got involved.  Right when I was about to shout Expelliarmus at him, he hurled Aveda Kedavra at me.  It was at that moment that I burst into tears and the duel ended.

Megan stared at us in incredulity while Seneca watched in awe as Drew quickly showed remorse for yelling the Killing Curse my way.  He wrapped me in a hug and told me that he didn’t mean it and that he loved me.  It got serious.  I had immediately told him that it wasn’t nice to kill me and that I would absolutely die if anything ever happened to him and that he should never use that curse, ever.

It was ridiculous, to say the very least. But, every time I think about it, I laugh. It’s funny and cute and kind of a heartwarming moment between him and me.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving home from work and it happened to coincide with the time (Oh Em Gee, Spoiler Alert) Dumbledore dies near the end of HP6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  It also happened to be after a particularly long day of work when I was still very sick and I was exhausted.  So, naturally, when JKR begins her description of the grief expressed by all of the characters in the book, I began to weep as well. Once it started, I couldn’t stop.  I was bawling my eyes out the entire forty-five minutes it takes for me to get home from work.  By the time I got home, my face was red and puffy, I no longer had any eye makeup on, and I was doing that weird hiccup-breathing from the heaving sobs that had flowed out of me.

And just yesterday, I was driving home from work when (SPOILER ALERT) Dobby died.  I sob uncontrollably when I watch the movie (EVERY SINGLE TIME), so it’s no surprise that the book brought me to tears.  The grief Harry experiences, the burial, the words Luna says on his behalf… I just think all of it is so precious and heartbreaking.  Dobby was so pure of heart and an innocent, and the loss of his life is a travesty. Bellatrix Lestrange sucks, and I hate her.

It just seems like I’m always in my car when I’m having these emotional events.

This has got to stop! Except, I never want it to because that would require me to not listen to Harry Potter in my car, and I just don’t want to stop doing that. It makes my commute enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I never would have guessed I would have gotten so involved in the series when I first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Not in a million years.  Even upon seeing the first film, I never thought I would feel such an affinity towards these characters and this world J.K. Rowling created. I just don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t be so weepy about all things Harry Potter. Probably not, though.

Does anyone else feel this way about Harry Potter?! I know I can’t be alone in this.

So, I was playing with my webcam the other day and I was listening to *NSYNC’s I’ll Be Good For You from the No Strings Attached album.  Out of nowhere, I sneezed.  I watched it back and LOL’d to myself.  And then I singled out the sneeze and LOL’d again.

Then I wanted to just put it on twitter for my dear friend Alecia to see, but then I thought that since I don’t have a lot of time to post today (since the Tripod has reunited again and we have been off doing stupid things), I could just share this hilarity with everyone at once.

For you, I will.

Dude.

I’m supremely hungover.

I slept until 4 pm today.

Actually, that is kind of a lie.

What really happened was I woke up at 8:30 this morning to pee.  I am fairly certain I was still drunk at this point, as I could not figure out how to execute the tasks of finding the light switch and turning on the bathroom light.  In all fairness, I was in a hotel (so my surroundings were less than familiar) and the light switches were on the wall outside of the bathroom.  I washed my hands in the bathtub (because I thought the sink was still full of ice and all of our liquor- it wasn’t.) and that’s when I found Seneca’s red thong hanging out on the ledge of the bathtub.

I remember thinking that was a little odd.

I crawled back into bed next to Seneca and went back to sleep until about 10 o’clock, when I heard Megan walking around our hotel room and starting to clean stuff up.  It was probably an hour later that we all actually woke up and pulled ourselves together enough to get in the car and go home.

When the girls dropped me off at home, I dropped my crap on my bed, grabbed a sweatshirt and headed back upstairs to plop myself down on the couch, where I had every intention of staying all day long.  I was too hungover to get up and grab a blanket so I used my hooded sweatshirt as a blanket and used a pillow on the couch to cover my feet.  I wished more than anything that I could just use the power of my mind to turn on the fireplace, but that didn’t really work out.  Instead, I watched The Office on DVD and froze my ass off.

I woke up around 2pm when I heard Grandma arrive.  I was drifting in and out of consciousness so I really have no idea what she was talking about, but it was too loud for my taste so I quickly turned the DVD player off, switched the tv to the channel that was playing some basketball, and went to crawl into my mom’s bed.

At about 3pm, I woke again.  Grandma had started vacuuming. I tell you, the woman cannot just sit and do nothing.  Even though my mom constantly tells Grandma not to use our vacuum (because she breaks them????), Grandma doesn’t listen and insists on vacuuming our house. I wanted to knife her, but not that badly because I didn’t expend any energy at all to ask her to stop.

It was about 4pm when I started feeling like I needed to stop procrastinating and do my homework. Only, it felt like death to not be horizontal.

I started my homework at about 7pm, and that shows.  I’m only slightly embarrassed to hand in my case study and I won’t be that mad when I don’t get 100%. I won’t be that mad because last night was fun enough to be worth less than 100% on the piece of shit case study I handed in this evening.

I am, however, a little disappointed in myself because, dude, I cannot drink like I used to.  Not like I could in college.  Growing up sucks.

There is no other day that I wish more than anything that I was still in college than on St. Patrick’s Day.

I mean, most days I wish I was still in college, and I think it’s retarded that we were all dying to graduate when we were already in the part of our lives that truly is the best part. Even more retarded is that I didn’t drag out my time in college longer than the four years I was already there.

I mean, where else is it completely acceptable to literally drink all day?  I don’t just mean day drinking, tailgate style.  I mean waking up and pounding a jello shot or two and head to work only to get out at noon and immediately start drinking to catch up to where everyone else is.

A household divided: pepsi vs coke. What’s your pref??

One very important concept I learned in college is playing catch-up. Don’t do it.  Poor. Life. Choice.

Luckily, I had really good friends who reminded me to slow the fuck down and pace myself. A good friend and roommate who looked out for me and made me pb&j sandwiches (on more occasions than one) so I would have consumed something other than caffeine and alcohol when we started drinking.

Lunch of champions/functioning alcoholics!

It’s not appropriate for me to spend the entire day wasted, take a nap at 6pm and wake up an hour later to continue consuming more alcohol than is recommended by the government.  It’s not appropriate to continually lose misplace my ID and debit card only to find it in a different pair of jeans because I had forgotten I had changed pants at the last minute (I would). It’s not appropriate to drunkenly sext frat boys. Nor is it appropriate to try to steal some poor man’s golden retriever (Erica! Okay, it was mostly me.).

Oh, Mandy…!

It’s not appropriate to disappear for extended periods of time with said frat boy under the guise of “washing my hands.” It didn’t matter that Erica knew I wasn’t washing my hands.  No one washes their hands that often, or for more than 20 seconds. Or for, like, 40 minutes at a time.

Whatever.  I never said I was a good liar.

None of that is appropriate.  Anymore.

Because I’m not in college. Anymore.

Because I’m old.

I hope everyone had a safe and very happy St. Patrick’s Day!

I spent mine lunching with a member of the tripod, shopping for new makeup, hitting up the library, doing homework and now I’m going to a Sugarland Concert!

Not too shabby! 🙂

So, I went out on the town with a couple girlfriends last weekend. It was the first time I did something social on the weekend in a month. I’m not kidding.

Oh, except for the weekend before, when the two other legs of the tripod came to my house and we stayed in and watched movies in our jammies.

Anyway.

For this night out, I made jello shots. It was the first time since junior year of college that I had anything to do with jello shots. I think a few years apart did some good. I wasn’t as irresponsible this time as I was when I was 20 years old. Well, irresponsible in the sense that I didn’t black out and throw up for two days.  There was no blacking out nor was there vomit this time. Just other… less-than-wise decisions were made.

I’m putting last Saturday night in the win column.

It seems that the only things I can successfully create in the kitchen are alcohol-related.

Without further ado…

ZOMG Yum!

  • 6 ounces of Jello (the big box!)
  • 16 ounces boiling water
  • 6 ounces cold water
  • 10 ounces alcohol

I used Bacardi Razz, obviously, to go with my raspberry jello but you can use whatever flavor jello and kind of alcohol you like!

The first thing I did was boil some water. I didn’t watch the pot the whole time, though, because we all know a watched pot never boils. (hahaha)

Then I poured the boiling water into a big measuring cup.

Next, I dissolved the jello dust into the boiling water.

Once the jello was completely dissolved, I poured in the cold water and my alcohol of choice.

PRETTY!!!

While the water was boiling, I set up the little cups the mixture was going to be going into.

I used the smallest little Dixie cups I could find. I put them in a cake pan type thingy to keep them all in one place and to cut down on the mess I was inevitably going to make.

I filled each cup a little less than half-full.

Told you I’m a mess-maker.

It was after this that I realized that using a ladle would be way easier.

This proved to be much easier. And less messy.

Once all of this alcoholic liquid was poured (or ladled) into the tiny cups, I was done! It was time to refrigerate those little babies.

pretty!!!!

I didn’t remember to get (attractive) pictures of them when we were consuming them. I did, however, manage to snipe a pic of Chiefy for you. He has a weird thing happening with his eyes, so we can pretend that it’s because he’s drunk/hungover even though it was mostly that I woke him up from a little catnap because he looked too cute for words all curled up on his blankie.

how cute is he!?!? Crazy eyes and all!

I’m taking a breather from figuring out the net present value of stuff for my finance homework and listening to the State of the Union as background noise.

I want to just point out that something happened to Obama on my TV.

While Joe Biden looks all normal and pink, almost like a baby, and the speaker of the house (whoever that is- I’m a terrible, uninformed citizen. And it certainly doesn’t help that I’ve been living in a hole in the ground, watching only Veronica Mars on DVD) looks nicely tanned and has a good, healthy glow about him, President Obama looks… jaundice.

First, I thought he looked yellow, like an Oompa Loompa, because I was watching Fox. (I had been watching a Glee rerun, “Furt,” to be specific.) So I switched to CNN. Still really yellow.

The weird thing is his hands look like a normal skin color, his normal skin color. So I know that it’s something about his face.

My guess is that The Man is trying to make him more white.

Obviously, they’re not doing a very good job.

Seriously, the jig is up.

Anyway, I enjoy listening to Obama talk. I’m not really sure I could tell you what he talked about in this State of the Union, but his enunciation is like a dream. The inflection he uses when he speaks is like a song. I’d like his speech pattern on Facebook if I could. I’d like it like Lionel Richie, all night long.

On a somewhat related note, Seneca and I had a brief discussion of stupid rules within the English language. She mentioned that the “I” before “E” except after “C” rule is stupid and false.

I told her, “I think the I before E thing is bull.”

Seneca basically agreed, “It’s an attempt to make English less ridiculous, and it fails.”

So then, because I’m succinct and can think of more than one thing at a time, I essentially ended our conversation with the following awesomeness: “English just… sucks, much like America, where all of these rules exist but there are always a bunch of loopholes.”

See why it’s related??? President Obama, State of the Union, America…?

Genius.

For Christmas, I gave Nikki a gift card to a salon/spa with the intent that we would get pedicures together. Well, as fate would have it, as a birthday activity, Nikki and I went to get pedicures yesterday afternoon. For an hour and a half, we sat in cushy, black recliners while we soaked our feet in warm water and got to have our toes painted.

I happen to be very, very ticklish, a fact I always seem to forget until someone is touching my feet.

Anyway, yes, for an hour and a half my feet were very well taken care of. And then I put my socks back on and shoved my feet into my boots and we ventured back out into the Michigan snow.

Later that night, I slipped my stocking-covered feet into some black ballet flats while me and my gal pals terrorized East Lansing once again as we tried to “re-do” new year’s eve.

My toes were perfect. Not a chip or a smudge.

When I went to put on some fuzzy socks I noticed that something is not quite right with my toes. I think it has something to do with the fact that the three toesies in the middle on my left foot also kind of hurt.

I’m sure you’re wondering why that might be.

Don’t worry, I’ll tell you.

This morning, after I woke up and told Megan that I had yet another dream where I was about to die, and after I asked her if she wanted me to give her a wet-willy, we decided we’d venture downstairs to reunite with the last leg of our Tripod. Megan left the room and headed down the stairs before me because I turned back thinking I would bring my fleece love-knot blanket and LP down with me. Then, because I realized that my hands were already full with a three-quarter of the way full plastic cup of water and my crackberry, I decided I could live without LP and good ole fleecey.  At least for the time being.

I had taken maybe two steps when I turned my head to say, “I’ll come back for you!” in a whisper to LP when all hell broke loose.

Before I knew it, I was in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs with nothing but an empty cup in my hand.

I’d just like to point out that Megan’s stairway is very, very steep and it’s probably a safety hazard. I’m not just an idiot who doesn’t know how to do steps.

Megan came back from wherever she had been and then started laughing when she saw that I wasn’t actually hurt. Apparently, all she heard was a big thuddddd and a “whoa” and knew she needed to check on me.

After I picked myself up off the floor, I went to go tell Seneca that I had just bit it down the stairs but my first question was if she was even awake. The response I got? Something along the lines of “how could I not be?!”  While she didn’t hear the “whoa” punctuating my fall, she did hear me whine, “Ohhh, now I’m all wet!”

I’m pretty sure I’m not telling this right because I was laughing my ass off as the three of us regaled the hilarity it was to know that I took a tumble down the stairs.

My point is, now one of my toenails is a tiny bit chipped and there’s some degree of rug burn on my three middle toes on just my one foot.

If we could have filmed me busting my ass like that, I totally could have won some money on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

I pretty much just need my own camera crew, a few corporate sponsors and a reality show/development deal with a major TV network. I’m pretty sure I’ve got my life all mapped out.