I am, apparently, the worst updater of blogs in the history of ever.
(Unrelated: I am also one of the biggest users of hyperbole that, well, I've ever met... anyway.)
BUT it turns out that I'm starting a new blogging endeavor, and this one is accompanied by a bunch of real champions, so hopefully that'll make me more accountable. Whether or not this is wishful thinking on my part I will leave for you to decide.
So, dear readers, if you exist, go and check out my other blog, "Bitching Backstage", where we'll be doling out some humor and insight on being performers in a newer generation of entertainment. Or at least, acting like we know things about acting, singing, writing, hipsterism, people named Chad, etc.
I'll attempt to update here when I can remember, or maybe I'll queue up some scheduled posts so you're satisfied whilst I am away. Of course, summer vacation would seem to be a perfect time to hone my internet skills, but as it is simultaneously and metaphorically the intermission before my college education, I'll be real freakin' busy.
Fingers crossed, loves.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Serious time here, folks.
Now, I had decided a while ago that, strong conviction permitting, I wouldn't stray into solemn, desolate territory. I'd stick to the light-hearted, feel good banter you've come to know and love from... well, whatever the hell this blog is.
...Despite the aforementioned conviction that I had tried to cling to so resolutely, I feel there are things I need to say, things I myself wish I had known ten years ago, or even five years ago, or even two years ago, or- and I'm gonna stop it right there.
And it's funny in that "revelation of universal truths (there I go with the universal truths again) that should be obvious to everyone and kinda are but no one actually listens or heeds them" sort of way. I mean, why do we do that? Why do we as humans accept all of this great advice, and totally understand it, and then completely disregard it?
Partly, it's due to our nature to self-sabotage.
Partly, it's due to our nature to really not pay attention to people, or really listen to their idea(l)s.
However, I've come to believe (emphasis on BELIEVE) that it's mostly due to narcissism, selfishness, and apathy towards the greater population.
"This person can't possibly right, they're crazy, I'm going to do my own thing."
"Well DUH, that's obvious, but I'm going to forget even the fact that it's obvious and go over here and do my own thing."
"Uh, well, see, that might be true and all, but I don't feel it affects me, so I'm going to go over here and do my own thing."
"...Dude, you lost me at conviction, I honestly don't care about what you're talking about, I'm going to go to the mini-mart, get some Slim Jims and do my own thing."
Sound familiar? It should. (Except the mini-mart part, unless you have a friend who REALLY has a thing for Slim Jims.)
It's not entirely our fault, you know. We were raised this way, bred in a selfish, narcissistic, apathetic society that taught- no, PREACHED- that it was "uncool" to give more than the tiniest of shits. (Yes, I say "our", I'm just as much a part of the problem, call me a hypocrite if you wish but please note that I at least recognize my issues, dammit.)
You know, that's sad. It's sad what our society has become. It's sad that we're brainwashed so easily by shady marketing and sketchy advertising campaigns. It's sad that we make good people into laughingstocks when they fall on hard times and are therefore deemed unworthy of any ounce of dignity. It's sad that we find public humiliation and degradation entertaining. But it's so much more than that. It's sick. It's absolutely sick.
Something more sad?
The fate of this world and planet rests in the hands of my generation. My generation, the one that posts quotes on their facebook pages like "Those who criticize our generation forget who raised it" and "Go HAM!". Eughhh.
So to the self-righteous bastards of my generation:
It's high school. You're in high school. You aren't hot snot on a silver platter. You're a teenager. And the majority of the population already doesn't like you just because of that fact. So don't be a proponent of shit just because you feel like you get it all the time. Change your environment. Or, at least, try.
...Despite the aforementioned conviction that I had tried to cling to so resolutely, I feel there are things I need to say, things I myself wish I had known ten years ago, or even five years ago, or even two years ago, or- and I'm gonna stop it right there.
And it's funny in that "revelation of universal truths (there I go with the universal truths again) that should be obvious to everyone and kinda are but no one actually listens or heeds them" sort of way. I mean, why do we do that? Why do we as humans accept all of this great advice, and totally understand it, and then completely disregard it?
Partly, it's due to our nature to self-sabotage.
Partly, it's due to our nature to really not pay attention to people, or really listen to their idea(l)s.
However, I've come to believe (emphasis on BELIEVE) that it's mostly due to narcissism, selfishness, and apathy towards the greater population.
"This person can't possibly right, they're crazy, I'm going to do my own thing."
"Well DUH, that's obvious, but I'm going to forget even the fact that it's obvious and go over here and do my own thing."
"Uh, well, see, that might be true and all, but I don't feel it affects me, so I'm going to go over here and do my own thing."
"...Dude, you lost me at conviction, I honestly don't care about what you're talking about, I'm going to go to the mini-mart, get some Slim Jims and do my own thing."
Sound familiar? It should. (Except the mini-mart part, unless you have a friend who REALLY has a thing for Slim Jims.)
It's not entirely our fault, you know. We were raised this way, bred in a selfish, narcissistic, apathetic society that taught- no, PREACHED- that it was "uncool" to give more than the tiniest of shits. (Yes, I say "our", I'm just as much a part of the problem, call me a hypocrite if you wish but please note that I at least recognize my issues, dammit.)
You know, that's sad. It's sad what our society has become. It's sad that we're brainwashed so easily by shady marketing and sketchy advertising campaigns. It's sad that we make good people into laughingstocks when they fall on hard times and are therefore deemed unworthy of any ounce of dignity. It's sad that we find public humiliation and degradation entertaining. But it's so much more than that. It's sick. It's absolutely sick.
Something more sad?
The fate of this world and planet rests in the hands of my generation. My generation, the one that posts quotes on their facebook pages like "Those who criticize our generation forget who raised it" and "Go HAM!". Eughhh.
So to the self-righteous bastards of my generation:
It's high school. You're in high school. You aren't hot snot on a silver platter. You're a teenager. And the majority of the population already doesn't like you just because of that fact. So don't be a proponent of shit just because you feel like you get it all the time. Change your environment. Or, at least, try.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Why Breaking My Flip Flop Was The Best Part Of My Life So Far (part 2)
Where were we?
Oh, right.
Lunchtime.
Lunchtime
We had Red Lobster. Yeah.
Post-Lunchtime
So Mom and I headed back over to Old Navy to go shopping (I needed school clothes, or something, I needed something, yeah), and I browsed for a bit, trying to find things I liked (which isn't too hard, Old Navy has a lot of my clothing styles). I was over in the fundamentals section of the new store when...
"You're BACK!"
I turned around; there was Bradley! We chatted for a bit about broken flip flops, fashion and how pathetic I looked when I entered the store previously (well, it was mainly me talking about that). A few minutes later, after trying on things in the fitting room and deciding which I liked (which I suppose I don't really need to tell you about fitting rooms, since most humans have entered one, consciously or not, at least ONCE in their lives), I ran into Bradley once again. And the next conversation started something like this:
"So you liked everything?"
"Everything but the one I left in there."
"Oh I see, hating on the stripes, are we?"
"No, no, it just didn't fit-"
"Uh huh, okay, sure, right."
One thing led to another...
"Ever thought about working for Old Navy?"
I was surprised; I'd tried applying for a job for another store earlier, but I couldn't answer one of the questions (I can't say I have NO education but I'm haven't graduated yet, jeesh). He told me fill it out for that store, and two days later I had an interview and was hired for the seasonal position! First job for the win. :D
That was September 20th.
And Now We Fast Forward...
October 21st, I went in for my orientation.
Can I just mention one thing?
Old Navy.
is.
SO.
MUCH.
FUN.
And the cherry on top?
After work, my parents surprised me with dinner and...
An iPhone.
My face was like this.
And then it was like this.
This chick's a mobile blogger, now!
Yeah, my face went from an Olsen twin to Keenan Thompson. What of it, bro?
No but seriously, I'm really thankful for everything in my life. I just... can't even fathom. :D
Oh, right.
Lunchtime.
Lunchtime
We had Red Lobster. Yeah.
Post-Lunchtime
So Mom and I headed back over to Old Navy to go shopping (I needed school clothes, or something, I needed something, yeah), and I browsed for a bit, trying to find things I liked (which isn't too hard, Old Navy has a lot of my clothing styles). I was over in the fundamentals section of the new store when...
"You're BACK!"
I turned around; there was Bradley! We chatted for a bit about broken flip flops, fashion and how pathetic I looked when I entered the store previously (well, it was mainly me talking about that). A few minutes later, after trying on things in the fitting room and deciding which I liked (which I suppose I don't really need to tell you about fitting rooms, since most humans have entered one, consciously or not, at least ONCE in their lives), I ran into Bradley once again. And the next conversation started something like this:
"So you liked everything?"
"Everything but the one I left in there."
"Oh I see, hating on the stripes, are we?"
"No, no, it just didn't fit-"
"Uh huh, okay, sure, right."
One thing led to another...
"Ever thought about working for Old Navy?"
I was surprised; I'd tried applying for a job for another store earlier, but I couldn't answer one of the questions (I can't say I have NO education but I'm haven't graduated yet, jeesh). He told me fill it out for that store, and two days later I had an interview and was hired for the seasonal position! First job for the win. :D
That was September 20th.
And Now We Fast Forward...
October 21st, I went in for my orientation.
Can I just mention one thing?
Old Navy.
is.
SO.
MUCH.
FUN.
And the cherry on top?
After work, my parents surprised me with dinner and...
An iPhone.
My face was like this.
And then it was like this.
This chick's a mobile blogger, now!
Yeah, my face went from an Olsen twin to Keenan Thompson. What of it, bro?
No but seriously, I'm really thankful for everything in my life. I just... can't even fathom. :D
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Why Breaking My Flip Flop Was The Best Part Of My Life So Far (part 1)
September 18th, 2011.
A normal Sunday.
Except...
The Beginning
So at my church, there's a little girl named Allyson. And a praise band. And carpet.
Logically, the obvious progression of actions would be to start dancing.
(oh just stop, they're going to think you're strange)
Well, it's essential to know the basic background information. So as you can probably guess, the friction of the carpet is really a hindrance to my dancing. So much so that it actually broke my flip flop. Yes, I was the target of that sickening crack that only happens when a piece of rubber (crucial to the whole "shoe staying on the foot" thing) snaps, removing any potential for repair.
And I Was "Barefoot For Jesus" For Four Hours
I'll spare you the mentions of my bare feet by the parishioners ("Oh honey, I think you forgot to wear shoes today!", "Pastor, your daughter is running around with no protection on her feet!", "Weeeell, I think you ran right out of your shoes!", "Does Jesus approve?"), and we'll go ahead and fast forward to post-church.
Dad and I started speeding (not really speeding, metaphorically speeding, gosh, what are you, blog cops?!) down Bell road toward the mall where we were going to meet my mother for lunch, and keeping our eyes peeled for a Target (or some manufacturer of flip flops, it's not like Red Lobster was just going to let me in without shoes) whilst doing so. Luckily, we spotted an Old Navy near the restaurant (the same retailer where my flip flops were originally purchased)(which is also perfect since I discovered a $180 credit on our Old Navy card and was going to go shopping there later that day anyway), and so my father dropped me off in front of the store (so I wouldn't have to run across asphalt in bare feet, really, think about that!) so I could replace my beloved footwear.
(enough with the parentheses, get on with it, geez!)
Okay, okay. So I rushed in with all the intensity of an Olympic sprinter determined for the gold, and I realized this Old Navy is not the same set-up as the Old Navy stores I was used to. Sensing a serious situation forming, I found the nearest sales associate (a very energetic man named Bradley)(Bradley, if you ever read this, you're amazing!), and I pathetically related my woes. Essentially, "I... my... my flip flop broke... I need... help me... I can't find... where are your flip flops?!"
We're Getting To The Good Part
With an exasperated (yet mildly amused, I think), "Oh, honey!", I was led back to the flip flop shop, where I'm able to select the pair of sandals I so desperately needed. Quickly paying and thanking at the same time, I rush back out to the car.
Part II up soon! (That's right, this mother's a two-parter!)
A normal Sunday.
Except...
The Beginning
So at my church, there's a little girl named Allyson. And a praise band. And carpet.
Logically, the obvious progression of actions would be to start dancing.
(oh just stop, they're going to think you're strange)
Well, it's essential to know the basic background information. So as you can probably guess, the friction of the carpet is really a hindrance to my dancing. So much so that it actually broke my flip flop. Yes, I was the target of that sickening crack that only happens when a piece of rubber (crucial to the whole "shoe staying on the foot" thing) snaps, removing any potential for repair.
And I Was "Barefoot For Jesus" For Four Hours
I'll spare you the mentions of my bare feet by the parishioners ("Oh honey, I think you forgot to wear shoes today!", "Pastor, your daughter is running around with no protection on her feet!", "Weeeell, I think you ran right out of your shoes!", "Does Jesus approve?"), and we'll go ahead and fast forward to post-church.
Dad and I started speeding (not really speeding, metaphorically speeding, gosh, what are you, blog cops?!) down Bell road toward the mall where we were going to meet my mother for lunch, and keeping our eyes peeled for a Target (or some manufacturer of flip flops, it's not like Red Lobster was just going to let me in without shoes) whilst doing so. Luckily, we spotted an Old Navy near the restaurant (the same retailer where my flip flops were originally purchased)(which is also perfect since I discovered a $180 credit on our Old Navy card and was going to go shopping there later that day anyway), and so my father dropped me off in front of the store (so I wouldn't have to run across asphalt in bare feet, really, think about that!) so I could replace my beloved footwear.
(enough with the parentheses, get on with it, geez!)
Okay, okay. So I rushed in with all the intensity of an Olympic sprinter determined for the gold, and I realized this Old Navy is not the same set-up as the Old Navy stores I was used to. Sensing a serious situation forming, I found the nearest sales associate (a very energetic man named Bradley)(Bradley, if you ever read this, you're amazing!), and I pathetically related my woes. Essentially, "I... my... my flip flop broke... I need... help me... I can't find... where are your flip flops?!"
We're Getting To The Good Part
With an exasperated (yet mildly amused, I think), "Oh, honey!", I was led back to the flip flop shop, where I'm able to select the pair of sandals I so desperately needed. Quickly paying and thanking at the same time, I rush back out to the car.
Part II up soon! (That's right, this mother's a two-parter!)
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Sorry about how long...
it's been taking me to update! I've been getting back into school, prepping for my friend's wedding, etc. Life is hectic, and definitely does not pause when you need it to! :O
I'll have new stories of spasticism (sp? it's a word now, k?) to relate to you soon!
Bear with me! :)
All my love,
Jordan
I'll have new stories of spasticism (sp? it's a word now, k?) to relate to you soon!
Bear with me! :)
All my love,
Jordan
Thursday, June 16, 2011
My Hobby:
Attempting to pull universal truth from some non-descript part of a long road trip, and then easily refuting it because it's so damn awful.
Like thinking, "Everyone in Arizona has driven this exact patch of road."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. I'm sure there are plenty of people in Tucson, or Phoenix, or wherever that have never driven that portion of the road, or even the I-17 in general."
Or thinking, "This rock has been passed by most truckers in the state."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. Who am I to say every trucker in the state has passed THAT particular rock?"
Or looking at a cactus, and thinking, "Everyone who likes the color pink has touched that cactus."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. I know plenty of people who like pink, and who have probably never seen that cactus, much less cared to touch it, because that would be painful, and I would probably not think much of them."
...
This is what I do on road trips.
The other thing about road trips is that, somehow, everyone on the road seems to lose a couple thousand brain cells when their tires hit the pavement. You know that "clever" quip about someone being born yesterday?
I honestly think these people were.
Because either they're incompetent and incoherent to the point that they should not be placed in command of a vehicle traveling 76 mph down a freeway where there are innocent people in harm's way...
Or they're secretly two infants LITERALLY BORN YESTERDAY that haven't learned the proper communication/motor (get it? motor? it's a car? HAH) skills to adequately handle the car. I say two, of course, because one would be steering, and one would be manning the pedals at the bottom because naturally, babies are tiny, and can't reach the pedals with their teeny legs. Silly babies. Driving is for adults.
Either way, they shouldn't be on the road. Specifically, on curvy roads. At high elevations. Next to cliff faces.
If you haven't gotten the clue yet, I'm back from a... mountainous... excursion..., and was, as a result of my mother's speed-demon tendencies (she REALLY wanted to get home), subject to terrors on the road. It turned me quite an unsightly shade of pale, probably permanently. Awesome!
And it's not all bad. Yeah, the ear-popping as the elevation dropped was unpleasant, the psychopathic driving was less-than-desirable, and there were some boring moments, but it's... I don't know, I guess you have to see past the pitfalls. I'm not acting as proponent for long road trips (I cannot be in a car for more than two hours, I go cuh-RAAAY-zy), I'm merely saying... it wasn't so bad. I got to spend it with my mom, who, as I've said before, I don't always get along with. We talked out a lot of our issues over Swedish Fish and Twizzlers (mine and hers respectively), and I think... I think we changed. I hope we did.
Also, the universal cactus thing was pretty entertaining. Please don't tell me I'm the only one who does that!
...No, it's okay, I am. -sigh-
I feel like this was kinda short... but HEY. I updated in a timely fashion. That counts for something, right?
...Right?!
Like thinking, "Everyone in Arizona has driven this exact patch of road."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. I'm sure there are plenty of people in Tucson, or Phoenix, or wherever that have never driven that portion of the road, or even the I-17 in general."
Or thinking, "This rock has been passed by most truckers in the state."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. Who am I to say every trucker in the state has passed THAT particular rock?"
Or looking at a cactus, and thinking, "Everyone who likes the color pink has touched that cactus."
And then thinking, "Well, that's dumb. I know plenty of people who like pink, and who have probably never seen that cactus, much less cared to touch it, because that would be painful, and I would probably not think much of them."
...
This is what I do on road trips.
The other thing about road trips is that, somehow, everyone on the road seems to lose a couple thousand brain cells when their tires hit the pavement. You know that "clever" quip about someone being born yesterday?
I honestly think these people were.
Because either they're incompetent and incoherent to the point that they should not be placed in command of a vehicle traveling 76 mph down a freeway where there are innocent people in harm's way...
Or they're secretly two infants LITERALLY BORN YESTERDAY that haven't learned the proper communication/motor (get it? motor? it's a car? HAH) skills to adequately handle the car. I say two, of course, because one would be steering, and one would be manning the pedals at the bottom because naturally, babies are tiny, and can't reach the pedals with their teeny legs. Silly babies. Driving is for adults.
Either way, they shouldn't be on the road. Specifically, on curvy roads. At high elevations. Next to cliff faces.
If you haven't gotten the clue yet, I'm back from a... mountainous... excursion..., and was, as a result of my mother's speed-demon tendencies (she REALLY wanted to get home), subject to terrors on the road. It turned me quite an unsightly shade of pale, probably permanently. Awesome!
And it's not all bad. Yeah, the ear-popping as the elevation dropped was unpleasant, the psychopathic driving was less-than-desirable, and there were some boring moments, but it's... I don't know, I guess you have to see past the pitfalls. I'm not acting as proponent for long road trips (I cannot be in a car for more than two hours, I go cuh-RAAAY-zy), I'm merely saying... it wasn't so bad. I got to spend it with my mom, who, as I've said before, I don't always get along with. We talked out a lot of our issues over Swedish Fish and Twizzlers (mine and hers respectively), and I think... I think we changed. I hope we did.
Also, the universal cactus thing was pretty entertaining. Please don't tell me I'm the only one who does that!
...No, it's okay, I am. -sigh-
I feel like this was kinda short... but HEY. I updated in a timely fashion. That counts for something, right?
...Right?!
Friday, June 10, 2011
And here we are, on location...
at Yogurtini. :)
I'm hanging out with some friends while I write this (those damn future doctors, I'm so proud), so if it seems detached and weird, I apologize.
Hello, summer.
"Schoooooool's out! For! Summah!"
Hell yes, it took long enough.
Not that school isn't totally awesome (to quote AVPM :D), it's just... taxing. And I'm so ready for the summer.
Now what to do... >.>
Hi, I'm home.
And this is like...
Two days later.
Yeah.
Two days.
TWO.
Sorry. I get sidetracked so easily... >.>
I like that face. >.>
So I'm stoked for summer.
Finally, the SAT is out of the way, and I'm sincerely hoping I didn't fail it worse than M. Night Shyamalan fails at making movies... *cough* did I say that?
Now, gazing around my room, I'm thinking more of my summer will be dedicated to clean up than it will be to fun... My lampshade (lamp hat? Because why would a lamp/light need shade? Silly naming people) is so dusty... the floor could use cleaning...
Bother. I don't want to do it. Instead...
I'm going to ramble.
Ramble about anything.
This is a ramble post.
Mainly because I feel I've lost my blogging touch.
Blah blah, ramble ramble.
"I was born a ramblin' maaaaan~"
Except I'm a girl.
Which the person on Omegle failed to grasp...
Have I mentioned that yet?
OH JOY SOME SUBSTANTIAL TOPIC.
Topic-within-a-topic: Omegle Awkwardity (Shh, it's a word, shhhhh.)
One of my hobbies is internet trolling. If you're one of those people who hates trolls, I'm sorry DX but it's just... it's so FUN. Ever tried it? It's fun. Do it.
So on one of these trolling expeditions that I took recently (cough yesterday), I hit up Omegle, as per suggestion of one of my friends.
(Lauren, I'm looking at you. Or I'm not, since I don't live in the same state, but if I did, I'd be looking in your general direction. Because that's how I roll.)
Omegle is, at best, extremely awkward. Somehow, a portion way larger than a modicum of people enjoy chatting with random, anonymous strangers, and making the conversations they're entered into much MORE awkward with every. passing. second.
So what do Lauren and I do?
(tell us please! please please please please please pleaaaase)
Well, duh...
TROLL.
:)
This time, we'd start conversations off with Pokémon references, and see if anyone got them.
...It's amazing how many people don't know Pokémon anymore :(
It's also amazing just how many people thought I was a 30-year-old guy from these conversations. Seriously, are girls not allowed to be gamers? Is it so taboo in culture today that the thought of it is simply incomprehensible? I WILL FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BE A GAMER DAMMIT.
...Haha.
Anyway.
The very first conversation I got was... special. I'm not posting it here, in case the person I chatted with somehow sees this post and finds me and wants to kill me, but if you ARE dying to see it, message me somehow and you MIGHT get to. Personally, I found it no less than absolutely hysterical (which doesn't mean you will, duh, I know that, I have a weird sense of humor, I found that eHarmony cat woman hilarious, what do I know?), so MAYBE you will too? Mreh? Okay.
Oh, and for that other reference...
Enjoy. :3
*okayleavingnowbye!*
I'm hanging out with some friends while I write this (those damn future doctors, I'm so proud), so if it seems detached and weird, I apologize.
Hello, summer.
"Schoooooool's out! For! Summah!"
Hell yes, it took long enough.
Not that school isn't totally awesome (to quote AVPM :D), it's just... taxing. And I'm so ready for the summer.
Now what to do... >.>
Hi, I'm home.
And this is like...
Two days later.
Yeah.
Two days.
TWO.
Sorry. I get sidetracked so easily... >.>
I like that face. >.>
So I'm stoked for summer.
Finally, the SAT is out of the way, and I'm sincerely hoping I didn't fail it worse than M. Night Shyamalan fails at making movies... *cough* did I say that?
Now, gazing around my room, I'm thinking more of my summer will be dedicated to clean up than it will be to fun... My lampshade (lamp hat? Because why would a lamp/light need shade? Silly naming people) is so dusty... the floor could use cleaning...
Bother. I don't want to do it. Instead...
I'm going to ramble.
Ramble about anything.
This is a ramble post.
Mainly because I feel I've lost my blogging touch.
Blah blah, ramble ramble.
"I was born a ramblin' maaaaan~"
Except I'm a girl.
Which the person on Omegle failed to grasp...
Have I mentioned that yet?
OH JOY SOME SUBSTANTIAL TOPIC.
Topic-within-a-topic: Omegle Awkwardity (Shh, it's a word, shhhhh.)
One of my hobbies is internet trolling. If you're one of those people who hates trolls, I'm sorry DX but it's just... it's so FUN. Ever tried it? It's fun. Do it.
So on one of these trolling expeditions that I took recently (cough yesterday), I hit up Omegle, as per suggestion of one of my friends.
(Lauren, I'm looking at you. Or I'm not, since I don't live in the same state, but if I did, I'd be looking in your general direction. Because that's how I roll.)
Omegle is, at best, extremely awkward. Somehow, a portion way larger than a modicum of people enjoy chatting with random, anonymous strangers, and making the conversations they're entered into much MORE awkward with every. passing. second.
So what do Lauren and I do?
(tell us please! please please please please please pleaaaase)
Well, duh...
TROLL.
:)
This time, we'd start conversations off with Pokémon references, and see if anyone got them.
...It's amazing how many people don't know Pokémon anymore :(
It's also amazing just how many people thought I was a 30-year-old guy from these conversations. Seriously, are girls not allowed to be gamers? Is it so taboo in culture today that the thought of it is simply incomprehensible? I WILL FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BE A GAMER DAMMIT.
...Haha.
Anyway.
The very first conversation I got was... special. I'm not posting it here, in case the person I chatted with somehow sees this post and finds me and wants to kill me, but if you ARE dying to see it, message me somehow and you MIGHT get to. Personally, I found it no less than absolutely hysterical (which doesn't mean you will, duh, I know that, I have a weird sense of humor, I found that eHarmony cat woman hilarious, what do I know?), so MAYBE you will too? Mreh? Okay.
Oh, and for that other reference...
Enjoy. :3
*okayleavingnowbye!*
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