Hey, wanna know some of the worst things a person sitting next to you could ever possibly say?
A. "It smells in here."
B. "What's that smell?"
C. "Ahhghgg!"
Or any variation of those three.
Because this means either:
A. They farted.
B. They think you farted.
C. Something so horrible, it is beyond words.
None are faring too well for you.
So let me set up the scene...
It was a Monday...or possibly Wednesday, late afternoon.
In my Bible Class - Exodus/Deuteronomy...(holiest of all classes)
I am sitting toward the far (I accidentally typed fart here instead of far, and it was so ironic I almost left it) right side of the class, near about 4 boys...when all of a sudden, a most unholy smell arises.
Once I point this out, everyone automatically assumes that the foul stench infiltrating our corner of the class was somehow produced by someone as fragile and delicate as myself.
I scoffed at these accusations, knowing full well it was one of them, and they were simply too embarrassed! Who would believe such nonsense?
These boys have become so acclimated to their own stench they can not even smell it anymore!
You want to know what bugs me the most though?
The fact that they all still use those lame excuses from 6th grade.
C'mon now people! Is anyone still falling for this?
For example, "Duuuuuude. If it was me I would totally own up to it."
Okay, false! You would not.
No one would. And no one ever does.
Cause it's gross.
We all "say" we would, but we fully know we would never actually fess up to it.
Didn't fall for it when I was 11, not falling for it now.
Example #2: "No man, if that was me, you would KNOW it."
Uh...gross?
Why is this even an excuse?
This just makes you look worse.
Like, "Hey dude if you think this smells bad, just wait!"
Thanks Shrek?
In the end, we never found the culprit...
But of course, if it were any of them, they would all totally "admit" it.
Right...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The Great Elsewhere.
I would say I was pretty confident growing up.
By confident, I mean naive/obnoxious, nonetheless I was content with who I was.
But one thing I do remember struggling with, was the fact that I always looked so much younger than I was.
I can vividly remember that feeling of defeat every time the waitress would bring over a pack of crayons with my menu.
This happened well into middle school, might I add.
My parents never seemed to understand why I was so upset by this.
Mom: "I don't know why it bothers you so much."
Me: "The menu says 9 & under..."
Mom: "So."
Me: "I'm 13."
As I got older, I got over it.
Well sorta...
Last summer, the day after my 18th birthday...
My friend Kyle and I went to go see "I Love You, Beth Cooper." (Probably one of the top ten worst movies ever made, by the way.)
Anyway, when I went to pay for my ticket, the women behind the glass barricade asked me how old I was.
I said, 17 and then remembered, woah wait a minute I'm 18, the big day was yesterday.
I was so perplexed as to how I could forget about my birthday, that I didn't really question why she was asking me this.
It was only after this confrontation that she finally handed me my ticket.
I thought this was weird, because they normally just check to see your ID for R-rated movies, as opposed to just taking your word for it.
I brought this up to Kyle, who proceeded to tell me the movie was rated PG-13...
BOOM! Roasted.
By confident, I mean naive/obnoxious, nonetheless I was content with who I was.
But one thing I do remember struggling with, was the fact that I always looked so much younger than I was.
I can vividly remember that feeling of defeat every time the waitress would bring over a pack of crayons with my menu.
This happened well into middle school, might I add.
My parents never seemed to understand why I was so upset by this.
Mom: "I don't know why it bothers you so much."
Me: "The menu says 9 & under..."
Mom: "So."
Me: "I'm 13."
As I got older, I got over it.
Well sorta...
Last summer, the day after my 18th birthday...
My friend Kyle and I went to go see "I Love You, Beth Cooper." (Probably one of the top ten worst movies ever made, by the way.)
Anyway, when I went to pay for my ticket, the women behind the glass barricade asked me how old I was.
I said, 17 and then remembered, woah wait a minute I'm 18, the big day was yesterday.
I was so perplexed as to how I could forget about my birthday, that I didn't really question why she was asking me this.
It was only after this confrontation that she finally handed me my ticket.
I thought this was weird, because they normally just check to see your ID for R-rated movies, as opposed to just taking your word for it.
I brought this up to Kyle, who proceeded to tell me the movie was rated PG-13...
BOOM! Roasted.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Past and Pending.
"You are less likely to notice that I can't draw a horse very well if I cut it in half."
"Beard Fish."
"This boom box is playing really good music for you. Trust me - I'm the one who drew this picture."
Yo Marc, I like your style.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Mansard Roof.
I feel like...I fall a lot.
We went ice skating the other day.
I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty terrible.
What sucked even more was, the fact that everyone else was expert status.
Throwing out triple toe loops and crap.
Needless to say...I fell.
And slid across the ice.
My hip hurts.
I'm not too great at roller skating or blading either.
What's sad is...when I was younger I had this sick notion, that I was.
I thought I WAS Brink.
A "Soul-Skater" for life.
In my elementary school days, we used to have skate night at Rollerama West. (Not to be mistaken with the original Rollerama which is also known as Sketchville.)
I remember half way through they would stop the "all skate" session to have races...and I would ALWAYS volunteer.
I was slow. I was uncoordinated. But most of all I was naive.
So my gawky, awkward, 9 year old self, would always participate.
And I would always lose.
I don't ever remember being discouraged though.
Must not have been, because I kept subjecting myself to the humiliation.
Fast forward to now:
So tonight, myself along with a few other people climbed up to the top of a certain roof.
I'm not gonna lie, it was amazing, terrifying, exhilarating, horrifying, truly awesome and completely life-changing all at the same time.
We sat up there and talked.
Nothing too deep, mostly just enjoying one another's company.
Then we climbed down.
While we were up there though I realized something.
I realized how many miraculous feats I have overcome this year.
I moved away from home.
I danced in front of a group of strangers.
I gave crappy, hastily written speeches, also in front of a group of strangers.
I climbed to the top of an immensely high roof.
I made it through my first year of college.
Looking toward the little bit of this semester I have left, I see a lot of unknowns.
Writing my exegetical for one.
Writing & giving my last speech.
Choreographing and performing my last dance.
Moving back home.
Even more distant into the future...
Being an alpha leader.
Taking more complex and difficult classes.
Possibly studying abroad.
But once we climbed down from that roof, and kissed the firm ground beneath us, I realized something.
I was just on top of the roof!
I fell in front of a whole group of people on ice skates!
I can do anything.
Never before had Philipians 4:13 rang more true.
Suddenly, the exegetical didn't seem so scary.
Giving an entertaining speech didn't seem so difficult.
Moving back home, far away from all the relationships I had built since being here, didn't seem so impossible.
With God, all things are possible.
The unknowns aren't scary, they're just unconquered.
So even though I can't see the steps below me, and I'm terrified of falling, I'll keep going, one step at a time.
I'll keep skating. I'll keep dancing. I'll keep speaking. I'll keep writing.
Because sometimes we do fall.
But that's when we laugh, brush the dirt (or possibly ice) off our pants, and keep going.
We went ice skating the other day.
I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty terrible.
What sucked even more was, the fact that everyone else was expert status.
Throwing out triple toe loops and crap.
Needless to say...I fell.
And slid across the ice.
My hip hurts.
I'm not too great at roller skating or blading either.
What's sad is...when I was younger I had this sick notion, that I was.
I thought I WAS Brink.
A "Soul-Skater" for life.
In my elementary school days, we used to have skate night at Rollerama West. (Not to be mistaken with the original Rollerama which is also known as Sketchville.)
I remember half way through they would stop the "all skate" session to have races...and I would ALWAYS volunteer.
I was slow. I was uncoordinated. But most of all I was naive.
So my gawky, awkward, 9 year old self, would always participate.
And I would always lose.
I don't ever remember being discouraged though.
Must not have been, because I kept subjecting myself to the humiliation.
Fast forward to now:
So tonight, myself along with a few other people climbed up to the top of a certain roof.
I'm not gonna lie, it was amazing, terrifying, exhilarating, horrifying, truly awesome and completely life-changing all at the same time.
We sat up there and talked.
Nothing too deep, mostly just enjoying one another's company.
Then we climbed down.
While we were up there though I realized something.
I realized how many miraculous feats I have overcome this year.
I moved away from home.
I danced in front of a group of strangers.
I gave crappy, hastily written speeches, also in front of a group of strangers.
I climbed to the top of an immensely high roof.
I made it through my first year of college.
Looking toward the little bit of this semester I have left, I see a lot of unknowns.
Writing my exegetical for one.
Writing & giving my last speech.
Choreographing and performing my last dance.
Moving back home.
Even more distant into the future...
Being an alpha leader.
Taking more complex and difficult classes.
Possibly studying abroad.
But once we climbed down from that roof, and kissed the firm ground beneath us, I realized something.
I was just on top of the roof!
I fell in front of a whole group of people on ice skates!
I can do anything.
Never before had Philipians 4:13 rang more true.
Suddenly, the exegetical didn't seem so scary.
Giving an entertaining speech didn't seem so difficult.
Moving back home, far away from all the relationships I had built since being here, didn't seem so impossible.
With God, all things are possible.
The unknowns aren't scary, they're just unconquered.
So even though I can't see the steps below me, and I'm terrified of falling, I'll keep going, one step at a time.
I'll keep skating. I'll keep dancing. I'll keep speaking. I'll keep writing.
Because sometimes we do fall.
But that's when we laugh, brush the dirt (or possibly ice) off our pants, and keep going.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Close Call.
I would describe myself as being pretty extroverted.
I enjoy being in front of people. I am rarely shy or embarrassed. Or at least I used to be.
All throughout middle school I was all over anything that had to do with performing and what not.
Hotel Manager of the critically acclaimed school production Hotel Bethlehem - check.
First place for Humorous Monologue three years in a row - check.
3rd place Speech & Debate - check.
So what happened?
I sign up for my Public Communication class thinking, bring it on Professor Donald Murray. This is nothing.
I was Hotel Manager for goodness sake!
Needless to say, I despise public speaking now.
This class has ruined my chances of pursuing a career as a professional public speaker.
So here it is: reasons why I hate public speaking.
1. Is anyone in the audience even aware of their facial expressions?
Excuse me sir, could you stop scowling? It's making me uncomfortable.
Perhaps this is just my class, but I swear everyone is either asleep with their eyes open or giving me looks of utter hate/disbelief. As if to say, how dare I speak on eliminating the penny!
This happened in debate once. In the cross-examination portion, (wow there goes my street cred), someone's mom was sitting in the audience and with every question I answered she would shake her head furiously as if everything I was saying was ridiculous and uncalled for.
Kid: "What are you gonna do when the solar panels break?"
Me: "What do you do when your car breaks? Call a guy to fix it, yo."
Mom: *rolling eyes, shaking head, foaming at the mouth*
2. Why is it, that as soon as you get up in front of the class, you can no longer speak clearly or even read your speech?
It's as if your eyes start crossing. Everything becomes blurry. How often are you supposed to make eye contact with audience? Are you looking up too much? Not enough?
Your tongue swells up.
You don't even remember where you were on the page. Simple words become a foreign language.
Since when did I write my paper in Japanese?
Oh and what really kills me is when you're trying to access your presentation from that computer in the front of the class and it suddenly becomes the slowest piece of technology ever created!
Everyone is watching you struggle as you bang on the keyboard and smile awkwardly.
You can't even remember your password anymore. You fail under the pressure and just give up all together.
3. What do you do with your hands?
Keep them at your sides? Do you use them as props FOR your speech?
Unless you're me and your hands become a torrential downpour of sweat. What then?
Will people notice how often you have to wipe them on your pants so as to not drip all over your paper and cause those little ripples where the page begins to curl in from the moisture?
4. Why are we even giving speeches?
No one wants to be there.
Believe it or not, no one is even listening.
Unless you have a flashy picture or entertaining video, you lost everyone at, "My name is..."
We might be looking your direction, but we're secretly texting our friends, drawing pictures, or watching videos of the world's fastest clapper.
So let's cut this P.Comm crap right here, right now.
When people say, "great eye contact - captivating info - so awesome" on your critique, what they really mean is, "Hey man, let's just be honest, neither of us wants to be here. Wasn't really paying attention either, but here are some compliments for D. Murray to ponder."
I enjoy being in front of people. I am rarely shy or embarrassed. Or at least I used to be.
All throughout middle school I was all over anything that had to do with performing and what not.
Hotel Manager of the critically acclaimed school production Hotel Bethlehem - check.
First place for Humorous Monologue three years in a row - check.
3rd place Speech & Debate - check.
So what happened?
I sign up for my Public Communication class thinking, bring it on Professor Donald Murray. This is nothing.
I was Hotel Manager for goodness sake!
Needless to say, I despise public speaking now.
This class has ruined my chances of pursuing a career as a professional public speaker.
So here it is: reasons why I hate public speaking.
1. Is anyone in the audience even aware of their facial expressions?
Excuse me sir, could you stop scowling? It's making me uncomfortable.
Perhaps this is just my class, but I swear everyone is either asleep with their eyes open or giving me looks of utter hate/disbelief. As if to say, how dare I speak on eliminating the penny!
This happened in debate once. In the cross-examination portion, (wow there goes my street cred), someone's mom was sitting in the audience and with every question I answered she would shake her head furiously as if everything I was saying was ridiculous and uncalled for.
Kid: "What are you gonna do when the solar panels break?"
Me: "What do you do when your car breaks? Call a guy to fix it, yo."
Mom: *rolling eyes, shaking head, foaming at the mouth*
2. Why is it, that as soon as you get up in front of the class, you can no longer speak clearly or even read your speech?
It's as if your eyes start crossing. Everything becomes blurry. How often are you supposed to make eye contact with audience? Are you looking up too much? Not enough?
Your tongue swells up.
You don't even remember where you were on the page. Simple words become a foreign language.
Since when did I write my paper in Japanese?
Oh and what really kills me is when you're trying to access your presentation from that computer in the front of the class and it suddenly becomes the slowest piece of technology ever created!
Everyone is watching you struggle as you bang on the keyboard and smile awkwardly.
You can't even remember your password anymore. You fail under the pressure and just give up all together.
3. What do you do with your hands?
Keep them at your sides? Do you use them as props FOR your speech?
Unless you're me and your hands become a torrential downpour of sweat. What then?
Will people notice how often you have to wipe them on your pants so as to not drip all over your paper and cause those little ripples where the page begins to curl in from the moisture?
4. Why are we even giving speeches?
No one wants to be there.
Believe it or not, no one is even listening.
Unless you have a flashy picture or entertaining video, you lost everyone at, "My name is..."
We might be looking your direction, but we're secretly texting our friends, drawing pictures, or watching videos of the world's fastest clapper.
So let's cut this P.Comm crap right here, right now.
When people say, "great eye contact - captivating info - so awesome" on your critique, what they really mean is, "Hey man, let's just be honest, neither of us wants to be here. Wasn't really paying attention either, but here are some compliments for D. Murray to ponder."
Friday, April 9, 2010
Spring Done Sprung.
So...there's this nifty little website known as "formspring."
For those of you who are unaware of what exactly this website entails (Mom), let me explain...
Basically, all of your friends (or whoever [is it whoever or whomever? when do you ever really know?]) can ask you questions anonymously for you to answer.
I know, dumb right?
Except, I made one.
Yikes.
To be honest, I was a bit hesitant at first.
This mask of anonymity is a recipe for disaster.
You are just asking for people to unleash their fury on you in 12 point, Times New Roman font.
But, along with Emmsicles, I decided to bite the bullet and create one.
Here's the kicker!
Did I receive scary, mean, hateful questions? Nope.
Did I receive thought-provoking, life-changing, mind-blowing questions? (that was a lot of hyphens just now!) Nope.
That's right.
No one asked me anything.
Okay, that's a gross exaggeration.
I did receive a question here and there.
But they were mostly from my roommate, or people whom I might have hinted at to send some questions my way (Will).
And though I applaud their attempt, it is now slightly pathetic.
While my friends were receiving an overload mass of questions...I was merely staring at the (0) accompanying my inbox.
Which brings me to another marvel I discovered while exploring Formspring.
That is...the "ask yourself a question" option.
Okay....whoops?
That's right up there with scooter blogs.
Really now?
Why would someone bother to ask themselves a question?
Are they unsure of what the answer would be?
How would you even begin to play that up?
"Hey guys look what someone asked me?"
That's like that episode of the Brady Bunch (or maybe it was the movie) when Jan made up a fake boyfriend named George Glass. She faked phone calls, loves notes, the whole shabang!
Don't worry, I have yet to stoop ("Stoop Kid never leaves his stoop!") so low as to asking myself deep, personal questions...or making up a fake boyfriend. Maybe George Glass is available.
For those of you who are unaware of what exactly this website entails (Mom), let me explain...
Basically, all of your friends (or whoever [is it whoever or whomever? when do you ever really know?]) can ask you questions anonymously for you to answer.
I know, dumb right?
Except, I made one.
Yikes.
To be honest, I was a bit hesitant at first.
This mask of anonymity is a recipe for disaster.
You are just asking for people to unleash their fury on you in 12 point, Times New Roman font.
But, along with Emmsicles, I decided to bite the bullet and create one.
Here's the kicker!
Did I receive scary, mean, hateful questions? Nope.
Did I receive thought-provoking, life-changing, mind-blowing questions? (that was a lot of hyphens just now!) Nope.
That's right.
No one asked me anything.
Okay, that's a gross exaggeration.
I did receive a question here and there.
But they were mostly from my roommate, or people whom I might have hinted at to send some questions my way (Will).
And though I applaud their attempt, it is now slightly pathetic.
While my friends were receiving an overload mass of questions...I was merely staring at the (0) accompanying my inbox.
Which brings me to another marvel I discovered while exploring Formspring.
That is...the "ask yourself a question" option.
Okay....whoops?
That's right up there with scooter blogs.
Really now?
Why would someone bother to ask themselves a question?
Are they unsure of what the answer would be?
How would you even begin to play that up?
"Hey guys look what someone asked me?"
That's like that episode of the Brady Bunch (or maybe it was the movie) when Jan made up a fake boyfriend named George Glass. She faked phone calls, loves notes, the whole shabang!
Don't worry, I have yet to stoop ("Stoop Kid never leaves his stoop!") so low as to asking myself deep, personal questions...or making up a fake boyfriend. Maybe George Glass is available.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
My Hair Glows in the Dark.
I think I have a problem...
I'm not even kidding!
For some bizarre reason, during worship in chapel (or church, or wherever I am), I am always stricken with "the never-ending yawns"!!!
Basically, I can't stop yawning!
What is even more crazy is, once we stop singing...I stop yawning.
During the message I am perfectly fine. Announcements? Dandy! Offering? Fantastic!
But as soon as we start singing I have to fight this urge to yawn that is taking over my entire worship experience!
The thing is...this really isn't a big deal. It's not loud or distracting, but to be honest, I am slightly embarrassed of it.
I have to put my head down so people don't see me yawning every 5 and a half seconds.
I'm afraid I'll come off sacrilegious or something.
I KNOW what people are thinking, "Oh whoops! There goes THAT girl...yawning again...heading straight for the lake of fire!"
It's right up there with the whole community bathroom sitch...
I just can't do the whole public restroom thing.
If I could, I would drive home every time I had to go to the bathroom.
One time, while I was using the restroom on my hall, a whole freakin' tour group walked in!
I was just sitting in the stall, as the lady explained how many stalls there were, water pressure in the showers, single or two ply toilet paper, etc.
I'm not gonna lie, I definitely considered picking my feet up, because I KNOW they were all looking at my shoes, memorizing the details so they could point me out later and laugh at me for being the lone ranger in the bathroom!
Psshh...bathroom snobs! Who do they think they are?
I'm not even kidding!
For some bizarre reason, during worship in chapel (or church, or wherever I am), I am always stricken with "the never-ending yawns"!!!
Basically, I can't stop yawning!
What is even more crazy is, once we stop singing...I stop yawning.
During the message I am perfectly fine. Announcements? Dandy! Offering? Fantastic!
But as soon as we start singing I have to fight this urge to yawn that is taking over my entire worship experience!
The thing is...this really isn't a big deal. It's not loud or distracting, but to be honest, I am slightly embarrassed of it.
I have to put my head down so people don't see me yawning every 5 and a half seconds.
I'm afraid I'll come off sacrilegious or something.
I KNOW what people are thinking, "Oh whoops! There goes THAT girl...yawning again...heading straight for the lake of fire!"
It's right up there with the whole community bathroom sitch...
I just can't do the whole public restroom thing.
If I could, I would drive home every time I had to go to the bathroom.
One time, while I was using the restroom on my hall, a whole freakin' tour group walked in!
I was just sitting in the stall, as the lady explained how many stalls there were, water pressure in the showers, single or two ply toilet paper, etc.
I'm not gonna lie, I definitely considered picking my feet up, because I KNOW they were all looking at my shoes, memorizing the details so they could point me out later and laugh at me for being the lone ranger in the bathroom!
Psshh...bathroom snobs! Who do they think they are?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
"K"
The letter K has so many functions...for example:
-It serves as the first letter of my name!
-it stands for Potassium on the period table of elements. (even though there is not a single K in the word potassium...)
-it comes before the O in KNOCKOUT!
...along with plenty of other things.
Here is what K is NOT.
-K is not an acceptable response in a conversation, in any way, shape or form...
For example:
"Hey how are you?"
"Great, you?"
"Doing good, just hanging around the house, waiting for V to come on...dang that shows CUH-RAZY!"
"K."
Yeah...what?!?!?
Is it so hard to slap an O to the front of that K?
Is that too much to ask?
Maybe string a couple more letters along...add a word or two?
Sending the letter "k" in any virtual conversation, is the ultimate burn.
You might as well say, "Look I'm really busy here watching reruns of Friends, so I really don't have time for this conversation or the energy to even begin forming complete sentences, so in an attempt to humor you, I'm gonna reply with a single letter in hopes of forever devastating your self-esteem."
Or to sum it up, "I'm a d-bag!"
Whichever you prefer.
K?
-It serves as the first letter of my name!
-it stands for Potassium on the period table of elements. (even though there is not a single K in the word potassium...)
-it comes before the O in KNOCKOUT!
...along with plenty of other things.
Here is what K is NOT.
-K is not an acceptable response in a conversation, in any way, shape or form...
For example:
"Hey how are you?"
"Great, you?"
"Doing good, just hanging around the house, waiting for V to come on...dang that shows CUH-RAZY!"
"K."
Yeah...what?!?!?
Is it so hard to slap an O to the front of that K?
Is that too much to ask?
Maybe string a couple more letters along...add a word or two?
Sending the letter "k" in any virtual conversation, is the ultimate burn.
You might as well say, "Look I'm really busy here watching reruns of Friends, so I really don't have time for this conversation or the energy to even begin forming complete sentences, so in an attempt to humor you, I'm gonna reply with a single letter in hopes of forever devastating your self-esteem."
Or to sum it up, "I'm a d-bag!"
Whichever you prefer.
K?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)