I don't wanna grow up!

Remember back in those days when all you wanted was to grow? To be a big kid? To be treated like an adult? Aaah, those were the days; no responsibility, no people expecting things from you. I for one really agree with the iconic Toys ‘R Us ad, “I don’t wanna grow up…I’m a Toys ‘R Us kid!”

These days, I’m not so into Barbie dolls or Polly Pockets anymore, but I’ve found something else that is delaying my transition to adulthood: the Internet. We have spent countless hours together, and I have found some really interesting stuff…doing research…not just Facebook creeping on people. (Don’t lie to yourself, we all creep…) I find that for the first couple days I decide to be an “adult” I’m like the most productive person in the world. I clean everything, I make sure to check my bills online, and I do all the adult-like things that real adults do. I become proud of myself…in hindsight, this is always a mistake.

Another thing that the Internet keeps me from doing is my homework. O how tempting it is to just check Facebook for just one second…then three hours later you have one unfinished paper, and a more solid understanding of why you should leave your camera at home in some situations. I have made a concerted effort to not do this, but I somehow end up chatting with someone or following some new Facebook craze about what color my bra is or where I put my purse… I have no idea how many useless quizzes I’ve taken, and how many ridiculous applications I’ve authorized to access my profile information.

After a few days of being very adult-like, I have this realization…I’m in college. Why am I wasting all my free time trying to be something I’m obviously not? This is hen all the trouble starts…I revolt against all of it. I don’t wanna clean. My hands get all prune-y, and then the room that I cleaned smells very strongly of cleaner. (Not gonna lie, I tend to go a little overboard on my adult-like binge when I think NOTHING has been cleaned in FOREVER!) I don’t wanna check my bills. That only reminds me that I have no money. (And I LOATHE not having any money…I like to do stuff when I want to.) I do not want to do other adult like things because I am still in college. And, as my cousins have said, college is a very expensive way to avoid adulthood and the real world. (For those of you whose bubble I just burst, no, college is NOT the real world.)

In light of all of this, I have decided that I am never going to be an adult. I like the Internet too much…and I enjoy not freaking out about everything. So, I’m delaying the inevitable, I’m going to stay a kid as long as I can. Who’s with me?

"THAT GUY"

Today, I went to the Mystic Lake Casino Hotel with my dad, and let me tell ya, some people are just pro at being strange. Not only do they wear their “lucky outfit” (which usually consists of something that smells just awful, or some random combination of stuff that they threw on) but they do their “special ju-ju movements” that are supposed to make the machine let them win. OK, so now that the stage is set, who’s ready to be that guy…apparently, creepster who followed me around was up for the challenge.

I remember it as if it were yesterday…or earlier this evening as it were. I had finally found my current favorite slot machine with a one cent denomination (yes one cent, I’m in college and have no money) and I happily sat down and inserted my ten dollars. I was winning a bit, then losing it again; basically, I was just having fun, and trying to get to the bonus of course. Then, it happened, the one thing that all women out there just despise; that one thing that is sure to get you hated…a guy came up, sat down next to me, and peered, with his head very close to the screen of the machine he was to play, and stared at my boobs.

All I could think was how awesome it would have been if I would have had a drink to throw at him, or someone there with me to kick his ass, because in this situation, all I could do was sit in silent horror. I was wearing a perfectly acceptable outfit, no cleavage, no bra straps, nothing. Just the fact that I do have rather large boobs apparently did it for this guy…which was of course super awesome (please note the sarcasm...)

Then, as if the boob staring wasn’t bad enough, he went ultra creepy on me. He started to pet the screen of the game he was playing and mumbling to it. All I could think was, “Jeez-o-Pete can I get a break here?” But no, I could not, for you see, I was in the middle of a bonus that was sure to win me oodles and oodles of pennies, and I was not about to walk away. So I sat there, knowing that Creepy McCreeperson was sitting right next to me, probably staring again. 

As soon as my bonus was done, I hit at the collect winnings button so fast and with precision that the creepster didn’t have a chance to say anything and I was gone. I went to find my dad, who was playing some weird Texas Hold’em slot machine, and he was in the bonus round himself, so I watched. I felt as if the room was clear and I could relax now, since McCreeperson was nowhere to be seen.

Alas, my victory was short lived. I next sat down at a machine that was strikingly similar to my favorite game, and who should show up but creepy man. WTF?! Didn’t he have better things to do other than follow me around?! UUUUUUGH. Needless to say, I got up after winning fourteen dollars and walked briskly to another area of the casino.

I couldn’t believe that I had had my first run in with “that guy” in the casino of all places. I half expected to not have these encounters until I turned 21…but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Watch out ladies…that guy could be anywhere, look like anyone, and say anything.

*To any of you who were expecting killer illustrations, I may add them later, but for now, I am too upset with that guy to draw*

I don't know about you...but I'm a rockstar!

Most people don’t know this, but I am a totally awesome should-be-Grammy-award-winning rockstar. I have put on multiple shows that have lasted three and a half hours, countless impromptu concerts, and every once in a while…I rock out on the guitar. Many of you who actually know me are now questioning “How does she find the time to do this?” but fear not dear friends, this will all be addressed in due time.

This dream all started when I was in the fourth grade and we learned cursive script. I was fully engrossed in the topic and amazed that you could write so quickly without the need to pick up your pencil and reset before each letter. And then it hit me…I COULD HAVE A ROCKIN’ ROCKSTAR SIGNATURE. Now, over the years I have spent many hours and numerous sheets of college ruled notebook paper perfecting my signature…and in its current form, it’s called “You can’t read my scribble!” and I think it’s pretty awesome! 

Just in case you’re currently perplexed by my need for my rockstar signature to be completely illegible, I turn your attention to any successful rockstar or pro athlete. Can you read their signatures? No. they’re much like a very expensive doctor.

Now, as I have decided based on hours of research watching rock bands and other musicians, I needed an outfit; a stellar super awesome rockin’ outfit. I have made the executive decision, since I am in charge of my own rockstar career, that I will not wear a pink outfit, but rather blue. One, because I like blue, and two, because I will not be wearing anything “frilly” on stage; maybe a dress if the mood strikes me, but no frills…none whatsoever…ever. So, here’s a super intricate illustration of what I’ll wear.

The second most important decision I made was about my instrument…which I have decided it is going to be pink…with purple polka dots…and it will be glittery. I know you’re all thinking “Frilly!!!” but no; it’s just awesome…so step off my guitar. And just for a clarification, I do not want a pink guitar because I am a girl, but just because I like it. Here’s my guitar!

So, now that I’ve told you all pretty much everything about me being a rockstar…I feel I should explain that my best audience, so far, has been the steering wheel of my car (well two cars). Karl and Hector have been great audiences, always asking for an encore…and sometimes, Guitar Hero says I rock!

*side note:  someday, if I ever become a rockstar, you all got my first autograph!*