I don't JUST Over-dramatize...

For some strange reason, I never seem to be able to recall events just as they occurred. My brain can't physically (or metaphysically) wrap itself around the fact that my life is extremely boring. So, endlessly in denial, it sends me into a spiral of over-dramatization that can often get out of hand.

Allow me to demonstrate just how severe these mental hallucinations become:

I don't JUST write college essays...

I STRUGGLE TO CREATE THE SISTINE CHAPEL OF WRITING WHICH WILL BE WORTHY OF DECIDING MY FUTURE WHILE FENDING OFF THE DEMONS OF WRITER'S BLOCK WITH ONLY THE HELP OF A DULL PENCIL.

I don't JUST trip over rocks...

I SLAM MY TOE INTO A CHUNK OF DIAMONDS, BREAK MY FOOT OFF, COLLAPSE IN FRONT OF A FAST-MOVING TRUCK, AND NEARLY PASS OUT.

And I don't JUST over-dramatize...

I OVER-DRAMATIZE ABOUT OVER-DRAMATIZING... ABOUT OVER-DRAMATIZING.

The end.

I Made Cookies

I made cookies with the most awesome person in the world yesterday.

Haters Gunna Hate

I ate the face first... because I'd hate for his brain to still be in tact while I severed his tail. Might as well take away the pain before eating the rest of him.

I don't really have much more to say about this experience, other than the cookies were delicious. And I drank from a cookie monster mug while eating these... because... I mean who wouldn't drink from a cookie monster mug while eating cookies if they had one? 

Mornings

This is a post about mornings. There will be many pictures.

To be honest, getting up every morning before the sun rises can get a bit depressing. I'm sure you didn't need me to tell you that, but I did. Clearly.

Anyway, there are endless coping methods and strategies for waking up at a designated time, but usually I stick to the same routine. It has worked fairly well so far, and I highly recommend it if you are having trouble finding the right amount of zest in your current getting-ready-for-things-ritual.

Phase 1: Waking up 2 minutes before the alarm clock

This phase takes time to fully master, but once you do, it really helps keep the morning morale hoppin'. There is no sound more torturous than that of a beeping alarm clock, so if you can wake up and stop it before it penetrates your eardrum and shrivels your brain into a pile of self-pitying dust... then do it.

Phase 2: Stretching


Stretch. Let the muscles in your arms and legs unwind like the good kind of twizzler that you can peel strands off of. You know, the kind you always eat first from your halloween candy bag because they are simply superior to the other, regular twizzlers.

Phase 3: Blindly Meander Around for a Short Time


This phase can be potentially dangerous. The squinting involved with stumbling around your room "blindly" can lead to some seriously stubbed toes or collisions with a wall, but your psyche needs those few minutes of uselessness. Give yourself some time to feel like a zombie whose grave was flooded with rain. Allow the self-pity to get out of your system. Use this moment to visit the toilet, or possibly change out of your pajamas. Beat your brain to the realization that changing would take you from the ultimate warmness and comfort of plaid pants to the rough chill of a stale pair of jeans.

And yes, I do realize that I am beginning to go into much more detail than I originally intended... but it's too late now. And the pictures are coming... so hang in there.

Phase 4: The Turning Point


Up to this point your morning has been far from extraordinary. You are wondering why I have told you to walk around lifelessly and wake up two minutes before you intended. But here comes the turning point, the part that is extremely crucial to the excitement of mornings. The ipod. Get one. Buy one. Steal one. Pick it up, put on a fast-paced spanish song you don't understand, and let the magic happen.

Everything you do from this point becomes enjoyable and accompanied by uncontrollable dancing. 

  

There are no more phases, other than to enjoy yourself. I tried drawing a few pictures of myself dancing while doing things... but in every single one I looked like I was trying to do the YMCA with arms that are simply too short for my body.

Songs that I love waking up to:

Danza Kuduro by Don Omar

Bon Bon (We No Speak Americano) by Pitbull

Anything by LMFAO

One last word of caution for using this technique: don't ever let this happen:

...ever.

The past is the past

Third grade. Tuesday morning. I peed my pants.

You got a problem with it?

The Underworld Gets Little Internet Service

Dear readers,

I would like to formally apologize for my untimely demise, for I have indeed died. I know, it's a pity. What you are reading now is my will.

To my first follower, I leave my personal gang robe. To my vlogger friend April, I leave my trident. And to everyone else I leave my wolverine action figures and pokemon beanbag chairs.

Sincerely,
-gfish


...


Okay. Fine. Have it your way, I haven't died. But I have banished myself to the dark corners of the Underworld... because I'm a horrible person and deserve this fate. Also, if I had to go anywhere when I died, I would want it to be the Underworld, because that would mean that I was right all along and mythology does exist. It does. I swear it upon the river Styx.

Anyway, enough apologies and whatnot. I have had crap to deal with, but I'm not going to tell you about it because Negative Nancies and Debbie Downers are lame. And they deserve the fields of Asphodel (mythology nerd term for field of punishment in the Underworld). Besides, I don't really have any excuses for not finding time to blog.

The point of this post, however, is that I'm back, and I'm going to try harder to write posts more regularly. I shall set goals for specific days, and glower angrily at myself in the mirror when these goals are ignored.

Ignore the fact that technically... this mirror image makes no sense whatsoever.

For now I'm going to try for a post every Friday, and if the muses inspire more, than there shall be more.

Apparently You All HATE Me

Despite my best efforts to include a bit of reader involvement... I have been extremely disappointed. I offered all of you only the best of my drawing efforts, and in return I got a harsh reminder that nobody actually reads this blog. I know, some of you will look back at my last post and go, "No, don't be sad, gfish, what about April? She gave you pictures to spend time drawing." BUT NO. Because while I am grateful for April and her requests, I had to tell her to get over here and ask for a picture... because I'm just that much of a loser. Oh God, the neediness.

Okay, I'll stop now, I promise. I've ranted my self-loathing for the week. You can only really have a certain amount of bitching before people actually start to hate you. Besides, I'm assuming that if you are here reading this now, then you can't really hate me all that much. Hopefully. Maybe people just don't like artwork. Or love.

I feel like sometimes people just complain more than they enjoy life as it is. It's human nature to want sympathy, even if the only bad thing that's happened to you is that you dropped your Eggo on the floor that morning. Honestly, the little things are okay to listen to. My friends and I constantly complain to each other about tests, too much homework, mean teachers, and stupid people. It's when it becomes excessive that I get a bit uncomfortable.

I feel like I am usually a very good listener. When people talk to me, I shut up, nod, ask questions, and share a comfortable amount of eye contact. I am concerned and offer advice, and if there is no solution I say, "Wow, that sucks I'm so sorry" with all the earnestness I have. Unfortunately, this has no off switch.  I can never seem to tell people when enough is enough. Then again I have trouble telling people anything about how I'm actually feeling if it isn't something positive. Usually my limit of emotional response is just the "really" face:

So in conclusion, I don't hate any of you, which is a good thing. Unless you love hatred, and thrive on it, and eat it for breakfast. Then you can have all of my hatred by the bucket loads, because I care about the occasionally backwards fellow that crosses my path. For the rest of you, I love you for honoring me with your presence here, reading this blog. Please release any hatred that has begun to harbor due to my occasionally self-pitying nature.

In other words, RELEASE THE KRACKEN.
Please ignore the fact that the above line may or may not relate to anything I just said. 

Taking requests

Hey everyone.

In an attempt to completely avoid all the work that I really need to get done, I will be taking requests for drawings. It can be anything from a flying dinosaur eating a guitar to a sunset. These drawings will be done in paint, like my other ones, so they will most likely be extremely beautiful and glorious.

Please do not request anything profane or inappropriate. I will be the judge of appropriateness.

Anyway just post in the comments below and I will draw it eventually, most likely putting it up in my next post at the bottom of this one. If nobody posts... then I'll be kind of sad. I feel like I have many more followers now than I could have ever hoped, and the virtual robe customizing business is booming. Now is the time to prove your following ability by giving me things to do! For any of you who have not read my previous post about gang robes, we have them. And they have hidden pockets. And sexy ties. AND TRIDENTS.

Beautiful drawing #1 goes to APRIL!!!!

Picture of April vlogging :D

April wins drawing #2 as well, despite there being no competition for drawings whatsoever!

Because Pottermore hates everybody.

#3 goes to myself... 

IM SO SORRY HOW LATE THIS IS AND THAT I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT I KNEW YOU. 

I have taken out Goldilocks and replaced her with THE MOST AWESOME PERSON EVER.

Due to my failing at actually doing things I need to do... I will no longer be drawing things for people until a later date when I say so. 

If I Were An Octopus

So the other day I got to thinking... what would life be like if I were an octopus?

Would I really be able to do eight things at once? Or would I only be able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and simply put eight arms into the effort? I feel like being an octopus would be a bit of a downer. I mean, they have no opposable thumbs, and their suction cupped arms make them attach to everything. That would be like an eternity of having leftover glue-stick glue on your fingers and not being able to wash it off. It's not ideal.

Being an octopus is definitely over-glorified. 

Short post is short.

That Awkward Moment When...

So... looking back at my last post, I'll admit that I was in a bad place. But I feel better now, in case you were wondering. My weird face distortion allergy attack may have possibly just been a really bad cold... but I'm going to stick to telling people it was allergies, because then they won't hate me for potentially putting them in the position to get sick. I mean, it was probably allergies, because I get the same miserable stuffiness every fall and spring... but for some reason right now I feel fine, and I'm pretty sure it's still fall.

Anyway, back to the topic of this post. Awkwardness. It's something I face nearly everyday, yet I can rarely find a way to describe it. There are just so many levels and variations of awkwardness. Some that are funny, some that are sad, and some that are just plain "what the smurf are you doing?!"

Along with many other catch-phrase fads, one that has recently come up is "that awkward moment when..."

I can't say it ranks up there with "your mom," or "that's what she said," but it still gets a few chuckles. Usually the "that awkward moment when..." comes up when something happens to you or someone else that is kind of random and insignificantly awkward, yet somebody thinks it'd be funny to make it seem even more awkward by pointing out the bits of discomfort.

 

Yes, I have friends... even if this didn't actually happen...

So yeah. On a side note, I figure I'll mention my inspiration for this post. Sure, my entire life is kind of a hodgepodge of awkward moments, but right before I sat down to write a post I sent my friend a happy birthday text. I was extremely proud of myself for remembering, despite the fact that his name didn't come up on facebook under birthdays. Anyway I sent it, caps lock on and everything, only to get a text back that it was not actually his birthday. 

Those kind of awkward moments can easily be laughed off, especially since he's my good friend, but I still felt that initial.. haha oh wow that's slightly awkward feeling. 

I Can't Taste the Oreos...

Kill me now. Please. No. Wait. Just kill my nose. Take a giant meat cleaver and chop it right off. I swear to God I'll be less uncomfortable than I am now, because I have reached the epitome of discomfort.

It's times like these that make me glad I have the internet to hide behind. Or rather, have the internet to protect you from my congested ugliness. Be glad you cannot see me right now, because... well because I look a bit like this:

This is what allergens do to me. They horrendously disfigure my face and motivation to do anything. I hope that when you look at this picture, you will understand the shortness of my post. It is because I am miserable... and I would rather not slather my wretched feelings all over this blog. So... once I feel less like a pile of reindeer droppings and more like a human being with a working nose... I shall write something more entertaining.

Just to stress how hateful I am of the outdoors and its allergy-causing-ness... I can't taste anything. But most importantly, I can't taste oreos. They have taken my comfort food away, and I am sad.

Where's the Damn Gorilla Suit?!

I hate losing things. No, wait. I hate it when my brother loses things and refuses to help me find them. Seriously. If you've got the nerve to put something somewhere out of the ordinary, have the sense to remember where you put it! Or at least help your poor sister who is tearing up the floorboards trying to find it.

Now, I bet you are probably wondering why I'm looking for a gorilla suit. That's a very good question. You see, every year our school has an activities fair, where all of the clubs can try and attract the attention of random lurker students who don't actually do anything productive with their time. Usually there are about a thousand different tables with Dumdum lollipop bribes and big posters.

Most kids steal the candy. They just flat out take the entire basket, or they sign up with no intention of ever joining your masterpiece of a club and take your candy. It's depressing. Therefore, I never bring candy to my club's table. No, we've done just fine getting people through yelling, reason, and setting up next to a table with candy so people have to listen to us while waiting in line for some food.

But this year is my senior year. This year, everything I do has to be incredibly spectacular and cool. That's just how it works.

So, while brainstorming ideas, here comes the revolutionary idea of... THE GORILLA SUIT. Last Halloween my brother invested in a rockin' gorilla suit, and so the idea to come to the activities fair dressed as a gorilla began to overwhelm every other smidgen of intelligence in my brain. It had to be done.

My friend and I planned it all out. We asked the activities fair coordinator to make sure the security guards wouldn't tackle us to the ground, and we figured out how we'd make a grand entrance and everything. It was going to be awesome. Kids in my school just can't resist people being anonymous and random. They just can't.

But anyway, all this preparation and excitement buildup was for nothing. I can't find the damn gorilla suit, and my brother won't help me. It's not where he said it was, or anywhere else for that matter. I have seriously thrown things out of every closet and drawer of my house looking... and it's insanely depressing. The fair is on Thursday and Friday, so I'm going to keep looking until then. I'll make sure to let all of you know how that goes... but I wouldn't get my hopes up.

It's making me go bananas.
No regret for horrible puns.

You're Not My Mother!

So, I'm not sure why... but while I was brainstorming blogging topics a certain memory popped into my head. Despite how stupid it is and how little of it I actually remember, I can't seem to shake the idea. Clearly my muse is telling me that I have to write about it anyway.

This story took place when I was really little, probably around five or six years old. Now let me tell you, I was a pretty adorable five year old. My hair was always in pigtails and for some reason my mom liked to dress me in every floral pattern she could find.

Cue the AWWWWs.

Anyway, so off goes five-year old me to the movies with my parents and siblings. It was probably to see something incredibly spectacular and awesome, like Thomas the Train Saves the Rainforest, or Rugrats in Paris. I don't exactly remember the movie, but I remember after the movie, when we were all heading back to the car. 

I was walking behind the cluster of my family unit, looking at the gum on the sidewalk and wondering how long it had taken to morph into the ground. Suddenly I looked up and realized that I had been slowing down, taking particularly long to observe one hardened sample. Now, my mom has insanely curly hair, so whenever I looked for her in a crowd that's what I kept my eyes peeled for. 

In this instance, I saw my mom's black curly hair rounding a corner, so I picked up the pace and followed the woman, eager to catch up. For a solid ten minutes I followed her, the fact that the rest of my family was not around her not quite reaching my naive little brain. 

The moment that really stands out in my memory is the instant when I realized that the woman was not my mother. I had been walking quite closely behind her, and wanted to ask where the car was.

"Mommy." I asked, but she didn't turn around. A bit annoyed that she was so blatantly ignoring me, I reached out to grab her hand. "Mommy!" 

She turned around as my hand reached forward, and I froze, hand still in the air. 

I remember feeling pissed off more than anything at that moment. Who the hell was this woman, pretending to be my mom? She had no right making her hair curly... or black. I just wanted to shout, YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER, kick her in the shin, and run away. The woman gave me a weird look, and scanned the parking lot for my actual mother. Luckily they really weren't that far away, because ten minutes of walking in my mind was actually about thirty seconds. 

I turned my head and saw my parents, who hadn't realized that I had followed the wrong person. The woman didn't say anything as I ran to my mom and got in the car, extremely frazzled and off balance. I didn't like the fact that somebody could impersonate my mother so easily. What if somebody else out there looked like me, and my parents picked her up and took her home instead because they didn't know which one of us was their actual child? 

Every kid wants to feel unique, so I guess the memory has stayed with me all these years because it was my first large kick of reality. Sure, everyone was different, but in the end you could be replaced... just like that. I could have followed that woman all the way to her house if I hadn't realized that it was somebody else. Of course, now I'm a bit wiser than my five-year-old self, although not by much, and I know that you can't really replace people, and identities can't be stolen just by copying someone's hair style. To actually steal an identity, you'd need some connections in the government or awesome hacking skill. 

JRose photo hunt!!!

Hey everyone! So one of my favorite blogs, "I'd like cheese on my entire family!" posted a photo hunt, and I became inspired to take some magical photos. Unfortunately I'm a very lazy person and did not complete the list, but I shall continue adding photos I get onto this post until I have completed it... eventually. To prove that I took these photos and didn't just get them online, I used a bag of goldfish as my mascot. LESDOTHIS.

Here's the list:

1. A cat in a window

No cats were harmed in the taking of this picture. Maybe confused... but not harmed.

2. Bare feet in grass

My feet look kind of gross here... but I hope this proves that I'm actually a living human being with feet.

3. Bacon


4. A squeaker


5. 3 people holding cards

This one was just plain fun to set up. Unfortunately it proves that I have no friends. 

6. Cheese on an entire family


7. Someone wearing a hat

Do not pass GO! Do not collect 200 dollars! -Ace Ventura 

8. A bird, not in a tree

I'M A BIRD, I'M A BIRD, I'M A BIRD. -Hyperbole and a Half

9. The color red, only the color red

Guess what is is. 

10. You holding a sign referring to Da Cheeseblarg


11. The cutest chocolate you can find

This is what I discover when scavenging in the basement. 

12. Velcro


13. An upside down book

Percy Jackson!!!! Who knew goldfish could read upside down?

14. Something I write about all the time but have not put in the list

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, OH. Harry Potter, Harry potter, YEAH. 

15. Ice cream

These are actually scented bubbles... SO TAKE THAT.

16. A chance

This made me think of ABBA. "If you change your mind... I'm the first in line..."

17. Something nerdy

Yes, I made my own Snorlax beanbag chair. You've got nothing.

18. A yellow flower

Goldfish camouflage.

19. A crack in a sidewalk

I bet you weren't expecting that one.

20. The inside of a grocery store


21. A person wearing a barrette

So for some reason I read this as "baret," and I like my picture too much to change it. 

22. A scavenger

Oh God I feel racist... or something. I blame lack of creativity.

The rest shall come eventually. I promise. Maybe.