Sometimes I’m a Moron

Confession time:

My first two years of college were spent being a moron.

I stayed up till the wee hours of the morning doing absolutely nothing of substance. I’d go to Walmart at 1 am with all the weirdies just to buy $5 movies. I’d walk around outside the dorms knocking on windows, basically being really annoying, because apparently I did not want to have any friends. And after I stayed up so late doing nothing but causing shenanigans, I had a difficult time getting to class. And if I did actually make it to class I had a hard time paying attention and rather than take notes, I perfected my doodles. Life was rough for me as a middle class girl attending college at her private liberal arts university.*

Then junior year came along and decided to kick it into gear. I was not going to be a moron anymore. I was going to be a golden child the last 2 years of college. I was going to get all A’s, go to all my classes and I was going to be all-around AWESOME. (Also to save money I moved off campus. It was a lot harder to cause shenanigans by knocking on dorm windows when my neighbors were my parents, living upstairs. They probably would have just slapped me) I came up with this brilliant idea, that if I had a long break between classes I could go to the library to study rather than waste my time and gas driving home. If I utilized that break to my advantage I would become super brilliant and be an honor roll student.

So that’s what I did. Everyday between my 9:00 and my 11:00 classes I traveled the long treacherous sidewalk to the library. I dodged bicycles, skateboards and the general walk-and-text-and-don’t-look-where-I’m-going college students.

Once I safely made it to the library I would travel many feet to the very back corner where there was specific little cubicle that I would sit at to do my studies**. I sat in this same spot everyday. But on this particular day, someone was in my cubicle. I don’t know if no one told them that was where I sat every single day, but they rudely took over my space. I did not know what to do. First I just stood and stared at them for a good 10 seconds. I then decided against having a rumble right there in the library. I acted as the bigger person and found another table. The only table left was not a prime studying table. It was smack dab in the middle of the library. It might as well have been in the middle of Grand Central Station. But I plopped myself down right there and pulled out my laptop. “It’s very loud in here.” I thought to myself and decided to listen to some Pandora radio. I pulled out my headphones and let the music take me away.

As I sat there listening to my Pandora Radio and playing my game of solitaire I noticed people walking by and looking at me.

“Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
And I can’t keep picturing you with him
And it hurts so bad, yeah
Cause it’s all in my head
I think about it over and over again
I replay it over and over again
And I can’t take it yeah I can’t shake it

That’s weird that everyone keeps looking at me. The must just be jealous of my super diligent studying. Or maybe I just look really cool today. Oh well. I’ll just get back to my solitaire game and this delightful Tim McGraw/Nelly collab.

“I can’t wait to see you
Want to see if you still got that look in your eyes
That one you had for me before we said our goodbyes
And it’s a shame that we got to spend our time
Being mad about the same things
Over and over again
About the same things
Over and over again

Seriously. Do I look really attractive today or what? Why do these males keep looking at me. MAN THIS IS A GOOD DAY! Oh 8 on the 9! Nailed it! I’m super good at solitaire

“But I think she’s leaving
Ooh man she’s leaving
I don’t know what else to do
(I can’t go on not loving you)”

Okay. Seriously. What is going on. I’m just sitting here. Maybe they know I’m playing solitaire. It is kind of weird that I would go to the library to play solitaire instead of study but I’m going to keep doing it anyway. Haha stupid people who keep staring at me! You can’t stop me. I do what I want.

“Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
And I can’t keep picturing you with him
And it hurts so bad, yeah
Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
I replay it over and over again yeah
And I can’t take it yeah I can’t shake it

This is a great song. It’s been forever since I heard it. I can’t believe these guys haven’t had more collaborations. Sing it McGraw. Sing it Nelly! They make beautiful musi….why does that guy keep looking at me?

“I remember the day you left
I remember the last breath you took right in front of me
When you said that u would leave
I was too stubborn to try to stop you or say anything
But I see clearly now 
And this choice I made keep playing in my head
Over and over again
Playing my head
Over and over again

SING IT NELLY!!! Okay. This is just getting ridiculous. I’m about to just stand up and ask why everyone is looking at me. WHAT THE HECK? Am I being Punk’d?

“I think she’s leaving
Ooh man she’s leaving
I don’t know what else to do
(I can’t go on not loving you)”

I can’t go on not loooving you……ya ya ya ya… Man I love this song. It’s kind of embarrassing to be listening to it. Ha. Good thing no one knows what song I’m listening to right now. THAT’D BE EMBARRASSING! Stop looking at me guys!

“Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
And I can’t keep picturing you with him
And it hurts so bad, yeah
Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
I replay it over and over again 
And I can’t take it I can’t shake it

I can’t take it…..Can’t shake it! NO-o-o-o-o-o!! THERE’S ANOTHER ONE STARING AT ME. STOP IT YOU GUYS! Do I have a booger or what?

“(Now that I’ve realized that I’m going down
From all this pain you’ve put me through
Everytime I close my eyes I lock it down
I can’t go on not loving you)”

I can’t go on not looo-vvvv-in’ yo-o-o-o-ooooo!!! Oh king queen ace! I win I win I win. Could this day get any better? Hey. Stop it guy. Look somewhere else. I’m not a piece of meat to be gawked at.

“Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
And I can’t keep picturing you with him
And it hurts so bad, yeah
Cause its all in my head
I think about it over and over again
I replay it over and over again
And I can’t take it I can’t shake it


At this point I look down to see the yellow cord of my headphones dangling free, unattached to my computer. Thus Nelly and Tim McGraw have been serenading the entire first floor of the library. I shut my computer, pack it away and walked out of the library as if nothing strange had just occurred, meanwhile I was very much dying inside.

Turns out all my efforts to not be a moron my junior year of college had become null and void. I had already become a moron and it was only the first month of the school year. A few weeks later I would walk all the way to class with a 2 and half foot trail of toilet paper attached to my shoe, but that’s a story for another day.

That is why I no longer ever go to the library to listen to Nelly and Tim McGraw sing about lost loves. I now only listen to them in the safety of my own home.

And that is prime example numero uno as to why I can never escape my innate ability to be a moron.

*Obviously it was not. This is a joke. I hope no one gets offended.
**Play solitaire

Taylor Swift, Why Don’t Your Songs Make Sense?

Hi there Taylor Swift!

Can I call you T. Swift? (It doesn’t matter what your response is. I’m going to do it anyway) How is it going? Just living the dream huh? Singing your country* music and traveling the world I’m sure.

You are very popular here in Nashville. I mean, REALLY popular. Every time I turn on the radio, there you are. Sitting in a restaurant you’re there. Walking through Walmart, T. Swift flowing through the air. You are everywhere. I might even say you are haunting me. Even when I don’t hear you on the radio, I hear you in my head.

DARN YOU AND YOUR CATCHY LITTLE TUNES! These songs go with me everywhere, but you know what? They don’t make sense. Any of them. Are you aware of this fact? I know you probably didn’t write them and you just sing them, but these songs have virtually no point to them. Most recently I’ve had your darling little song, “Ours” stuck in my head. And you know what, that one makes the least sense of all of them.

Allow me to expand on this thought. These are the lyrics to your song. I will explain line by line why this does not make sense. Are you ready? Good! Here goes!

“Elevator buttons in morning air [What? Elevator buttons in the air, or on an elevator? This song is already starting out a little weird]
Strangers’ silence makes me want to take the stairs [What do you want the strangers to do T. Swift? Ask you obnoxious questions? Do you really want that? I don’t think you do.]
If you were here we’d laugh about their vacant stares [That seems like a really rude thing for you to do. Why would you do that? Maybe you wouldn’t have as many haters if you didn’t laugh at strangers all the time]
But right now my time is theirs [What does that even mean? They’re strangers. Why is your time theirs? I’m confused T. Swift]

Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves
They’ll judge it like they know about me and you [Wait. Are the disapproving people the ones on the elevator? Or are these just people in general? You need to be more specific]
And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do [What verdict? Are we still on an elevator? When did we move to a courtroom?]
The jury’s out, my choice is you [The jury decided your choice for you? I thought you didn’t like people judging you? The jury decided your choice was him? I don’t understand you]

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind [That’s a really weird way to describe someones mind]
People throw rocks at things that shine [NO. They don’t. People don’t throw rocks as a general rule. Do you even live in the real world with the rest of us? I never see people throwing rocks at shiny things. And what does this have to do with the jury of people who were in the elevator with vacant stares? This song is all over the place]
And life makes love look hard [Does it? I’m not sure you know what you’re saying]
The stakes are high, the water’s rough [‘Stakes are high’ sounds like a poker analogy, but ‘water’s rough’ seems like a boat analogy. Are you playing poker on a boat?]
But this love is ours [Okay, ya this makes sense. Good job on this one] 

You never know what people have up their sleeves [Usually arms. And magicians sometimes keep playing cards up there]
Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me [Are these real ghosts? Or ghosts like bad decisions? If he has ghosts from his past why are you so obsessed with him. You seem to make bad choices in your love life. I mean you dated that werewolf that had the same name as you for a while. That was kind of weird]
Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles [What? The ghost wear lip gloss? Wait…are these ghosts his former lovers? I think I”m catching what your throwing out now T. Swift!]
But I don’t care ’cause right now you’re mine [You can’t own people! Slavery was outlawed. Ever heard of the emancipation proclamation? LOOK IT UP WEIRDO]

And you’ll say
Don’t you worry your pretty little mind [So now your mind is pretty? You guys are a bunch of weirdos]
People throw rocks at things that shine [NO. THEY DON’T]
And life makes love look hard [I still don’t think I agree with you here]
The stakes are high, the water’s rough [Still on that boat ‘eh?]
But this love is ours [Alright. I won’t take your love away]

And it’s not theirs to speculate [What’s not theirs? And who are they? Why are your songs so nondescript?]
If it’s wrong and [Oh. Okay. If your love is wrong is what’s not theirs to speculate. GOT IT!]
Your hands are tough [Get him some hand lotion. Problem solved]
But they are where mine belong and [Where your what belongs? Your hands? Weird] I’ll fight that doubt and give you faith
With this song for you [OOOHHHHH…..the song makes you feel better about your relationship. That makes so much more sense. (no it doesn’t)]

‘Cause I love the gap between your teeth [Michael Strahan?]
And I love the riddles that you speak [Jim Carrey as the Riddler? You are not describing this boy as very appealing]
And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored [The remarks might be necessary if the guy only speaks in riddles. That’s a weird thing to do]
‘Cause my heart is yours [Literally? Good to know you’re an organ donor]

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind [Weird]
People throw rocks at things that shine [Nope]
And life makes love look hard [It does not]
Don’t you worry your pretty little mind [You just said this]
People throw rocks at things that shine [Stop repeating yourself. They don’t do this!] But they can’t take what’s ours [This is true. That would be a felony]
They can’t take what’s ours [I said I agree. Why did you say it again?]

The stakes are high, the water’s rough [Poker on a boat is you guys’ thing huh?]
But this love is ours [That’s nice]”

[Wait. That’s how the song ends? Did you marry the boy with the tooth gap and tattoos? And what was the shiny thing people were throwing rocks at? What were the stakes? Did the water every calm down? DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING HERE TAYLOR!! There is absolutely no closure here. Why are you this way? Ugh.]

And why is your guitar so freaking sparkly/shiny? I hope no one throws rocks at it.

See T. Swift? See? That song had no ending. I don’t know if the people throwing rocks broke the shiny thing. I don’t know if you and the riddler ended up together. I don’t know anything. All you really did was open up more mystery and questions for me. I dont’ like that. I like songs with distinct happy endings. Or even sad endings. As long as there is an ending I’m good. But your songs don’t have endings. And I am not okay with this. Work on that T. Swift. Give your songs closure and then maybe when they’re stuck in my head I won’t feel as if I would rather stab a q-tip into my ear than hear the song again. That’s what we all want anyway. For me to be happy.

*I’m not entirely sure why your music is considered country, other than all you sing about is love and heartbreak

Catching Up on My Snail Mail

I’ve been needing to write some letters recently, but I’ve been very busy and haven’t been able to. So I hope you don’t mind that I’m taking the time to do it here. It’s so embarrassing that I’m this far behind! Please just bear with me as I try to catch up.

Dear Walmart employees,

I realize that you work at Walmart and you may not be real happy with your life because you are forced to wear khakis with a blue shirt everyday. I know it seems obnoxious when I stand in your line to purchase things like deodorant and pretzel sticks. But I’m not doing it to ruin your life. I’m really not. Angrily placing my items in the bag does not make me feel welcome in your store. And when you don’t speak to me or rotate the bag holder thingy ma-bob so I can get my items, I get really sad. All I want is some delicious pretzels to enjoy while I tend to my armpit odors. So next time I purchase products from you, maybe you could at least speak to me long enough to tell me how much money I owe you? That would be nice. Then I wouldn’t feel as though I inconvenienced you quite as much. And I might not hate your store anymore. Okay, thanks for listening. Have a nice day.

Your best customer,

Dear Atlanta Braves,

I’d like to apologize in advance. “For what?”, you ask. Well for the fact that you are going to have a losing season. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the Kansas City Royals have been really terrible at baseball since I can remember. But I’m a big fan anyway, despite their ability to lose all the time. I have stuck by them thorough losing season after losing season. I sat through many a humid summer’s eve to root for them as they lost. It didn’t matter, they were my team. And then I moved to Nashville. I left my precious Royals back in Kansas and something weird happened. They got good. They began to succeed at baseball and they even have a chance at being contenders this year. As it turns out, all the Royals needed was for me to leave them alone and they would succeed. I’m very bad luck for baseball teams it seems and since I left Kansas everything is going swimmingly there. All that being said, now we get to the real issue at hand. You are going to be really terrible this year and it’s going to be all my fault. I can’t watch Royals games here in Nashville, so I had to choose an allegiance here. Unfortunately for you, I picked the Braves. And just as a sign of how much bad luck I am, you have already lost 2 of the only 3 games you have played in spring training. Yesterday you lost 18 – 3. I’m already bringing you bad luck and I’m really sorry about that. But I must have a baseball team to root for. I’m probably even going to attend a game or two. Again, really sorry. I don’t know how I provide this terrible luck for baseball teams, but I do. I just wanted to go ahead and let you know in advance how bad this season is going to be for you. It’s the least I can do, because after all, I’m ruining your lives.  As it turns out I’m not allowed to have nice things, and can’t have a winning baseball team near me.

Your inadvertent worst fan ever,

Dear Kansas City Royals,

Hey guys. I left Kansas City and took my bad baseball luck to the south for Atlanta to deal with. You’re welcome.

Your best fan ever,

Dear writers of How I Met Your Mother,

I’m starting to question you. There’s not really a mother is there? Ted steals those children off the street doesn’t he? I’m not going to lie to you, but your show is starting to make me angry. Why do you keep making Ted fall in love with Robin? You already told us in the first episode that she’s their Aunt Robin. Why do you keep bringing up that story line? This is not a Ross and Rachel scenario. We already know they don’t end up together. So stop it. Stop making Ted love Robin. It’s getting annoying. If you wouldn’t mind just introducing us to the mother soon, that would be great. Otherwise I’ll probably stop watching.

A disgruntled fan,

P.S. I won’t really stop watching if we don’t meet the mother soon, but you will get another, more angrily worded letter.

Dear Kelly Osbourne,

I was watching you this morning on Fashion Police. You were critiquing people’s clothing and fashion choices. Your hair is lavender. How are you qualified to give people fashion advice? Stop it.

All my love,

Whew…glad that’s over with. I think I’m finally caught up on my letters. I apologize for the awkwardness that you may have felt through all of that. I hope you didn’t waste too much of your valuable time reading those. I promise this won’t happen again. It’s so embarrassing, I‘m such a procrastinator!

Hey Benjamin Button, Help Me Age Backwards!

I wish I could go back to when I was 3. I don’t want to go back in time DeLorean style, but if I could turn into a 3-year-old with the knowledge I currently possess (which is not much) that would be pretty freaking great.

Why 3, you ask? Well 3 year-olds can say whatever the heck they want. They have no filters. Absolutely none. I had this conversation with a child just two days ago:

3 year-old “Where are your other shoes? I like those ones….The grey ones with the buttons.”
Me -“Oh? Should I wear those tomorrow?”
3 year-old – “Ya. And don’t wear that shirt. I don’t like it.”

If any grown up person had told me flat out they didn’t like my shirt, I would have considered punching them right in the face. But because an adorable little guy with a southern accent said it to me I wasn’t offended. (I will admit when another child looked me in the eyes and said, “I don’t like you.” I was offended. I am very likable you guys!)

If I suddenly became 22-year-old me in 3-year-old me’s body I can only imagine the joyous times I would have. Those thoughts I keep in my head…I would say ALL OF THEM.

If some stranger with a beard tried to make conversation with me while waiting in line at Walmart I would turn around and say, “I don’t want to talk to you, you’re creepy and quite frankly you smell like poop.” The bearded stranger wouldn’t be offended. He would just laugh it off because my 3 year-old rudeness was adorable!

When obnoxious young men in big trucks drive next to my car revving their engines, I would roll down my window and say, “Hey buttface. No one thinks it’s cool that your car is loud. In fact most of us think you’re trying to make up for your lack of masculinity. So stop it. You’ll never get a woman that way.” They would be so shocked with my frankness that they couldn’t even be mad that I said it! It would be awesome! (Actually this one would not work….mainly because 3 year-olds cannot drive)

And to the guy at work the other day who used m&m’s as an object lesson to teach children that we’re all different colors but the same on the inside, I would say, “Excuse me sir. We are 3. We don’t realize that we have different skin colors. We just see other kids. And in teaching this lesson you have actually pointed out to us the different races in this room. We didn’t see skin colors until you pointed this out with your m&m lesson. So thanks for introducing us 3 year-olds to racism!!” He would probably just be really amazed at my great communication skills. I would probably leave that guys speechless. (Also I might say this as a 22 year-old. That guy was really stupid. I wanted to punch him)

Then there would be the average everyday conversations. Things like, “Your haircut looks really bad.”, “Please stop touching your ring. I’m not going to ask you about it.”, and “I can see your butt crack when you bend down with those skinny jeans on.”

I would be the best 3 year-old ever. I could help people out by being adorable while pointing out their flaws without them being offended. I could single-handedly stop this phenomena of jeggings*, by simply asking all women wearing them why they don’t have pants on. (I would also attempt to stop that terrible thing males do where they cut out the armpits of their shirts causing me to be able to see their nipples. What the heck is that about. Why not just go shirtless at that point?)

So if anyone has any connections to Benjamin Button, I’d be interested in aging backwards. I’d really like to be able to speak freely without offended others.

Or maybe I’ll just start saying everything that pops into my head. Who needs friends anyway right?

If she says you look fat, you're not even mad!

*Secretly I’m just jealous that I can’t rock the jeggings. I have disproportionately large calves. I would look ridiculous.

Apparently I Wear a Weirdie Magnet

I’m not sure if it’s something in my genetics or the fact that I tend to look super uncomfortable in most social settings, but I have this tendency to attract the weirdies. Somehow I always find myself forced to hold conversations with strange/smelly/mustached people. These conversations mostly entail me awkward courtesy laughing and checking the time on my phone every 30 seconds. Somehow I draw the weirdies out of the woodwork and into my immediate locale.

For instance I’m standing at the battery kiosk at the local Walmart (I like to keep it classy, so I frequent Walmart a lot). I’ve been playing Mario Kart so I’m currently going through batteries like they are candy. I’m scouting out the best priced rechargeable batteries for my Wii remote. I’ve made a decision on the Energizer brand that comes with a wall outlet charger. I felt this was a good choice. Then it happens. A portly old man on a motor scooter drives by. We’ll call him Gerald, he sort of resembled a Gerald. Gerald stops his little scooter right next to that battery kiosk. Takes a look at me, the batteries I’m holding, then back at me. Gerald mumbles something like, “Mrfjgisnd $2 marggakmends ieolesm…maeoom.” I look at Gerald, smile kindly and give my courtesy giggle. Apparently Gerald didn’t like my battery choice or my response, he sort of glares at me, then scooters on his way. I spent the next 15 minutes trying to decipher Gerald-language to figure out what he was telling me. I still have no idea. Weirdie Magnet.

Rewind back to age 13. I decide it’s a great idea to go grocery shopping with my grandmother. (which, by the way, if you don’t want to spend 15 hours grocery shopping, this is bad idea) We go to Walmart, and probably 5 other stores, and then before you know it, it’s 3:00 p.m. and we have yet to eat lunch. So the logical choice is to stop at Braums to get a delicious hamburger. Next thing you know some locals come into the Braums as well. (By locals, I mean the place is real small and everyone knows everyone, except for the granddaughter who is visiting from the big city of Olathe, Kansas and foolishly went on a grocery shopping trip not knowing what the day held in store for her) These locals consist of a mother and her son. They’ve come in to get a bag o’ burgers to take back to what I can only imagine, is a pig farm. My kind grandmother offers to let them sit in our booth as they wait on their bag o’ burgers. I do my best to pretend the boy is not staring at me as I focus as hard as I can on looking out the window, eating my fries. Some awkward conversation was attempted by the boy. I did my best to avoid it. Then the bag o’ burgers was ready and I thought that I was free and I would never encounter these people again. Now fast forward 3 hours. The phone rings at my grandmother’s house, not an unusual event. The phone is for me, incredibly unusual event seeing as how I don’t live there. I uncomfortably take the phone and say, “Hello?”
“Hi Amanda, it’s Hank*, from Braums.”
“…..oh. Hi.”
“So you’re 15 right?”
“Ya….NO! No I’m only 13.”
“Ha, you don’t know how old you are? So do you want to go see a movie?” “…..No…..I can’t.”
“Oh…..When are you leaving?”
“…..tomorrow.” (this was a lie)
“Oh ok. Bye”
I hung up the phone faster than I’ve ever done anything in my life and cursed myself for going grocery shopping that morning. And as an aside, it turns out, Hank was not 15, he was 17, close to an illegal experience. So anyway, had I gone and seen Scooby Doo with Hank I might be living on a pig farm right now. Weirdie magnet.

*I’m positive that’s not his name, but I’ve tried to remove this memory from my mind so I don’t remember his real name.

And now let’s go back just a few days to Saturday evening. I attended a Nashville Predators / St. Louis Blues hockey game at Bridgestone Arena. The evening started off normally. I was getting a little loud and obnoxious during the game, which apparently is my new thing. Throwing my arms up in victory when the Predators scored, singing the catchy little tune “Bah na na na na HEY, YOU SUCK!”, you know, normal hockey things. (it also could have had something to do with the St. Louis fans right next to me, who were sad they were losing) It was a great game. We beat the Blues which is always a welcome thing. (I really don’t like St. Louis teams) Now this is when the  most recent weirdie magnet kicked in. I was leaving the arena and in order to exit you have to go down an escalator. For smooth exiting the arena has placed two escalators side by side both going down. I’m minding my own business, escalating down when someone on the adjacent escalator shouts, “We’re going to beat you down! Ours is totally going faster!”
I look over, assuming this is not being shouted at me. Surprise, surprise. I am the target of this young man’s race challenge.
“Um…OK…Sure!”, is all I can really think to say.
“We’re gonna win!!”
I can only muster up a courtesy chuckle in response to this. Then we get to the end of the escalator. Obviously I won, so weird-escalator-race-challenger accuses me of cheating.
“Ok. Well what can ya do?”, I say
Then I disappear into the crowd as quickly as I can to get away from escalator-race-challenger. Weirdie Magnet

But the weirdie magnet part of me wonders if I’m destined to be stuck with the weirdies forever. Why do all these weirdies talk to me? Was that escalator weirdie my only chance at love? Should I have waited for escalator-weirdie and formed a strange escalator race bond and then gotten married on the escalator? Should I go down there tonight to ride the escalators up and down until someone challenges me to a race, then marry them? Why do I ask so many questions? Maybe it’s not actually about me being a weirdie magnet…maybe I’m just a weirdie too….