Last Minute Halloween Ideas

It's that time of year again: Halloween. This year, being the ol' socialite that I am, I have no plans.  In fact, in lieu of exciting party plans, I bought myself pumpkin pie and white chocolate.  Don't worry; it's what's cool now.  I may not have friends, but at least I can buy myself obesity and diabetes.  That sounded way better in my head.

Anyway, for those who are still panicking over last-minute Halloween costumes that'll make that special person want to stir your witch's brew (worst innuendo ever), I've got ideas for you:

Slutty Steve Jobs
Slutty Wall Street Occupier
Slutty Herman Cain
Slutty Morrissey
Slutty IRS Agent

Take your pick.  I could roll these out all night.

Old People Tongue Action

Tonight, my parents decided to drag me to a play about old people. That's how my dad explained the plot of the play. Here's a straight up quote: "It's a play about old people." They did not, however, tell me that I would have to sit through an old guy singing 'My Humps' repeatedly and making out with an old lady. I cannot make this shit up. After sitting through that weirdness (with the parentals, no less), we didn't even get cream puffs at the store next door like I was promised.

Sometimes I look at my life and think, "Wow. There are some other teenagers spending their nights partying while I spend my night watching elderlies get it on."

You know what? Fuck being social. I have my cat...

Have a picture from last year.

...and she's awesome as shit. Not literal shit. Obviously.

My Conversion to Prostitution

I'm slightly concerned that most of my blog views come from people looking up heroin, cocaine, and meth. Though, at the same time, I'm almost comforted by the fact that a majority of my readers are deteriorating mentally; so maybe my ramblings make more sense to them. I like that possibility. Not the fact that people are doing drugs, but that they totally understand where I'm coming from...kind of.

Right now, I'm trying to fight off this persistent headache while being soothed by the tunes of Das Racist. Which reminds me that I need more money in my wallet...to see shows, obviously. At the moment, my self-employed music teacher thing is slowed down, so clearly, I must find other options. I could become a hooker, but I don't think Daniel would appreciate that much. He might warm up to the idea if I tell him he can be my pimp. He'd look hot in a fur coat and chains. And by hot, I mean really, really trashy. Life is hard.

Iron Chef Poop

I'm working on college applications, so my blog posts have been much more spread out lately. Don't worry though. You really aren't missing much.
Oh, except for yesterday when Jared and I went to Starbucks and the entire place smelled like poop for ten minutes. Not corporate poop. It just smelled like the aftermath of bad burritos. I know that was too graphic, but I regret nothing. I was the one who had to experience it, guys. I have no sympathy for those reading this.

If you're really that emotionally scarred, let me heal you through Iron Chef Chairman pictures. (Both of them.)

Allez cuisine!

Seriously, they never fail to cheer me up. I want to watch Iron Chef now...

Hugs Not Heroin, Cocaine, or Meth

Actually, I'm kidding. I'll gladly hand out hugs any time. Although, there was a period of time that spanned from late elementary school into middle school where I adamantly ran away from anybody who tried to hug me. It was probably the prepubescent angst brewing inside me. I've passed that stage though. I wasn't lying about me being really irritable when I'm hungry, however. That part's completely true, and anybody who's close enough to me can certainly vouch for that.

For non-huggers, I should have drawn porcupines, maces, and forest fires. Oh well. Next time.

Edit: I actually realized that my cartoon makes no sense, so ignore everything.

Paul Bettany the Vampire Slayer (of Sacramento)

Long time no blog! I spent the weekend in Sacramento with Daniel, and he took me to the Second Saturday Artwalk, which is essentially just a journey through numerous art galleries in midtown. As we walked to the Artwalk (try to wrap your brain around that one), we strolled through Capitol Park, and what I found there filled me with immense amounts of happiness.

It's a statue that looks exactly like Paul Bettany in Priest! Daniel disagrees and says it looks nothing like him, but come on. Just look at it. It's like a replica...but stonier. To be fair, neither of us have actually seen Priest, but I like to imagine that I'm right. 

Ponies (From the Future) - Part 2

Me: I'm going to throw the best party.

Daniel: For your pony?

Me: Obviously. We'll play party games.

Daniel: What kind of party games?

Me: Twister.

Daniel: WHAT?

Me: Twister is a good, fun party game.

Daniel: How is a pony going to play Twister? That's not even physically possible!

Me: I'll practice with him.

Daniel: No. It's not physically possible.

Me: He'll get it, don't worry.

Daniel: I don't think you get that it's not physically possible.

Me: My pony is going to be a Twister champion.

Daniel: Okay.

Me: You're just a pony hater.