Hakuna Matata

Okay, I will admit that I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. Mainly because everyone I know is moving on to some great life achievement (married, engaged, pregnant, internships across the country) and I… well, actually I had a big one myself that I neglected to mention (NOT ANY OF THOSE, DON’T FREAK OUT ON ME):

I am officially enrolled in my nursing school program! It starts next year. Super stoked. Already picked out my stethoscope and blood pressure cuff colors (First choice for Stethoscope is caribbean blue, second is purple. First for BP cuff is purple, second is hunter green). Now, I’m in the process of retracting the entire history of what nurse has poked me with needles when and where for what diseases. Oish. Plus they had to run a background check. Seriously guys, if I was a murderer, I’d be in jail. Do you think I’d be able to go to nursing school from jail? Not unless it was an online class, and NEWSFLASH it’s not. It’s nursing school. This shit is no joke. I have a checklist a bazillion miles long to do. Plus it’s midterm season and I have a to-do list in general that is long enough for me to hang myself from.

I’m sure I have some sort of funny story that will make you all laugh, but at the moment all I want is to be legal so I can go to a tropical beach and sit and relax with a three gallon jug of wine. Or vodka. Either or. Probably both.

Might end up being the story of my life.

On a side note, today I went and applied for governmental food aid. And got accepted in like 10 minutes. I know this isn’t the right choice for everyone, but I figure since I am going to be a contributing member of society, my taxes will more than even it out. So what did I do with my card? Went to Winco, bitches. Bitches love Winco.

It’s aaaaamazing and since we lack a different regularly priced grocery store (I’m looking at you Albertsons and Safeway) and ya’ll know I am a broke ass college student. Did you know that Udi’s even makes a pre-made GF pizzza? Nearly died of happiness.

Well, I’ll definitely have some crazy stories for you all tomorrow and if not then, some of my close friends are coming down this weekend for our school’s homecoming. Shit is going to get real.

Love,

Aurora

Unda Da She!

Alrighty people. Get over it, I don’t update when I say I will. Sorry, I’m in a “knocking yo doors down in mah stilettos and beating the beejeezus outta ya’ll” mood. For which I will explain. However, let’s recap our Tuesday through Friday notes, shall we?

Tuesday: Class. Work. Unremarkable.

Wednesday: Class, where I try not to jump up and strangle the theater prof who somehow decides that I’m getting half credit on an assignment because I DID IT THE EXACT WAY HE SAID. We’ve turned in four of them and this is the first one I’m getting back. Did I mention that I tried not to strangle him? So worn out by this that after classes I go back to the apartment and take five hour angry nap. Group dinner for the building, we have some pretty cool people. MET TWO OF THE RHINOS UPSTAIRS. THEY DID NOT EAT ME. This however made me like them for they seemed okay…

Thursday: ….Changed my mind. New opinion:

Because seriously, who the hell plays loud music at 1:00 AM?!!! ON A THURSDAY/FRIDAY?!!!!!!

Work again, which just went worse. The girl who was my same shift was fine, but the closer? OOooooooh LORDY. Gurl came in, brand new and still wet behind the ears. Not dressed for work or anything. Just a little tiny freshman thang who comes in all cocky and loud. So I was originally inclined to smack her but she grew on me. Like Mold. UNTIL I DISCOVERED SHE COULDN’T MAKE A SMOOTHIE TO SAVE HER LIFE.

So yeah. Our smoothies are super easy by the way. Literally, just follow the instructions that give you ounce and scoop measurements.  They’re usually a bit on the short side, but not much. THIS GIRL MADE AT LEAST FOUR HALF SMOOTHIES AND ONE SMOOTHIE SO BAD I HAD TO REDO IT ENTIRELY. HOW THE ^#$()* DO YOU MESS UP A SMOOTHIE THAT BADLY?????!!!!!

Gerrrr. And she’d just laugh like “Oh, haha isn’t this funny?” And not make any effort to correct it.

ALL THE FACE PALMS.

Oh, and she tried to put the paper we put the sandwiches on with the sandwich through the toaster, which is something I figured she would be smart enough to get without me telling her. Coworker (not new girl) had to stop the machine and yank out the paper which was now the same temperature as the sun out with her bare hands. Well, plastic-y not-latex gloves, but still, those things do NOTHING for temperature. After work, I can’t feel the tips of my fingers for hours. Still can’t, actually, over 24 hours later.

Anyways, work on Thursday was more interesting than just a new idiot I had to train. No, I accidentally got slightly intoxicated at work. Seriously, it was an accident. You see, we have the option for salt and pepper and oil and vinegar. Our vinegar is raspberry (holy shit, did NOT KNOW THAT WAS HOW IT WAS SPELLED. Always thought it was “rasberry.” MY LIFE IS A LIEEEEEEE) something so it’s red. At work, since yours truly is Gluten Free (GF) I often make myself a “salad” in our giant 32 ounce cups because the GF wraps are tiny. Like 100 calorie bite sized. And I may be tiny, but I eat. Just ask my grocery budget. And since I don’t have to buy food (within reason) when I’m working, I eat all I can. Let me repeat: STARVING COLLEGE STUDENT. So I load this thing up and since I learned in Nutrition that vinegar is better than you for oil, I overload on the stuff. Seriously, I overload, there’s usually two standing inches of it at the bottom I chug. So, you see where I’m going? I come to work hungry, then when I make my salad, I overload on what LOOKS like our vinegar. I inhale salad and notice it tastes a bit different, but am not really paying attention.  So I finish my break, and am back to working (maintence stuff: fill turkey, sweep, clean….mainly waiting for the next customer and watching TV) and suddenly I feel super relaxed. Just relaxed and chill. And then everything seems funnier than I know it should be. My voice is louder than it should be. SO I start thinking “WTF IS WRONG WITH MEEEE?!!” Except the actual thought was “Whoa man, this is weird, hahahahaha!”

Yeah.

Then my boss comes out and hold the “vinegar” to me and says “Smell this.” So I do. Because I am “one of the guys” and have a lot of best guy friends and I abide by the smell code. And that? That does not smell like vinegar. Which I think is funny. Because unbeknownst to me, I am the tiniest bit drunk. That is when my boss identifies it as red cooking wine. And then it all makes sense. Fortunately I am somewhat of a hard weight, I may have been buzzed but I wasn’t showing it. If my boss had seen, there’d’ve been some deep shit to wade through. Specifically, “how did our underage employee get drunk at work?!!!” And I hate paperwork. So no to that. Did I mention we’ve been serving this on sandwiches to underage kids? Fortunately, I’m the only person on campus who knows and does the salad thingy. So I’m the one who actually raised my BAC level. Not amused. Soooo very not amused. Now it’s actually hilarious, but to my relaxed mind then, it was a “soooo not cool, man. Don’t know who you are, but I will find you and hang you upside down by your big toe from a Redwood while you wear black spandex and I slap you with week-old dead fish when I start caring about all of this again.”

In this scenario, I am Liam Neeson because Liam Neeson is my generation’s Chuck Norris and ERMAHGERD ITS LIAM NEERSON

So yeah. That was interesting.

Friday: Sleep late. Go to class. Try to go to play for assignment, but it is sold out. Oh, and Sperm Donor (Biological Co-creator) calls (we don’t have a great relationship and he’s been in Afghanistan, he’s home on temporary leave) (not the actual military because that would be Noble.) and oh, guess what? HE’S MOVING TO MY NEIGHBORHOOD. TWO STREETS AWAY. Soooo unamused, ALL THE UNAMUSEDS. I AM SO ANGRY I MISSPELLED UNAMMUSED AT LEAST FOUR TIMES. SEE I DID IT AGAIN!

Let us be clear: I do not have Daddy issues, because my actual Dad is my stepdad. He is the Dad. That is the cocreator. Because even idiot/assholes have good ideas sometimes.

So today’s been pretty crazy. Although I did go grocery shopping and I ate a whole bag of brussel sprouts and now I feel better.

I’ll have more details about the weekend and various other rants soon. If there’s a topic any of you want me to rant about, let me know in the comments

Okay, so I really need to get going, but I’ll go into more details about the whole cocreator scenario and everything that happened today soon, that was a quick recap.

Hope you all have unaccidentally drugged and nonjerk crashing weekends!

Aurora

Let’s Get This Show On the Road!….aaand then head right back. Then we’ll really go.

Officially, I am in my junior year of college. My apartment with B is all pretty-fied and decorated with Where’s Waldo posters, mustaches, a “Believe” poster for Sasquatch, and a bajillion other random awesome things. Maybe I’ll post pictures. But for now, below is our shower curtain.You can get your own from Urban Outfitters:

Anyways, The Place Where the Awesome People live is on the first floor, which was such a miracle when moving stuff in, especially since I have been living on the third floors of buildings with no elevator. Also had to move in mini-fridges. Not fun. But not this year! This year is magical. No mini-anything to move in, we have a dishwasher, a kitchen and laundry machines you don’t have to walk the gauntlet and the Mojave desert to get to, and NO STAIRS. Let me repeat, NO STAIRS. This may be slightly more exciting to me than you, so let me explain. Last year, I partially dislocated my left knee. While this may seem less severe than tearing something, IF YOU TEAR SOMETHING THEY CAN DO SURGERY TO FIX IN. If you FULLY dislocate it, they can pop it back in and you’re fine. If you partially dislocate, you are up Coffee Creek without a stirrer stick. So they sent me home with an exoskeleton and the instructions not to do a ton. Then I’d start Physical Therapy. So yeah, stairs were evil is the moral of the story.

Back to the apartment. So this apartment is perfect. Not tiny, not so big I’ll get lost or it looks empty. There is only one down side to this place. And that is that WE ARE ON THE FIRST FLOOR. Yes, this is counterproductive to my point before. But that was before I heard the party monkey-screechers who live upstairs. I swear they had a herd of horses galloping around up there last night. I was not amused. Since classes haven’t started yet, I can see their side, but if it happens every weekend, I WILL go all Evil Queen on their asses. Like this:

Actually, this will be nothing in comparison. Anyways, even with the trampling dinosaurs upstairs (notice I am not calling them elephants because I love elephants. I also love dinosaurs. Except velociraptors, Those were ruined for me by Jurassic Park. So they’re now velociraptors), the apartment is spectacular….

Okay, seriously velociraptors, it’s not even noon. No drum circles. This blog is so turning into “Dear Assholes above me”.