Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Friday: Get out of my parking space just fine, and return with a moody vehicle, unwilling to move into the parking space more than one foot. Doesn't really want to back out either. While this is all just fine and dandy, I realize that Cyride frequents my road, and there is no possible way they will be able get past my car. I make some calls for help, howl and the moon once or twice, light some flares, and return to my car to find Cyride halting their services in respect for my misbehaving car. Without a beat, our trusty Blue South driver picks up his microphone and says, "If any of you want to get to campus on time, we have to push this car out of the way." And as if I were the president in need of help, 6+ guys emerge from the bus and push my car into its rightful spot. Granted, the president would have some bodyguards and stuff to do that already, and he probably wouldn't be driving an '02 Dodge Neon, but that didn't make me feel any less important. I got Cyride to deboard in honor of my car. Don't I feel special.
Saturday: Bum some rides.
Sunday: Lazily study indoors as snow builds and solidifies with an ice topping around my car. Ignore consequences.
Monday: Return from work, briefly get stuck in the same position as Friday, and lightheartedly gather a couple stragglers to push my stubborn car back again.
Tuesday: Scrape car off, attempt to leave for work, but move a slight two feet backward. Feign indifference. Lauren offers her beast of an Explorer, and off to work I go. Car remains at home, butt sticking out into the road, baring her failures. Punishment remains until after my night exam, and car finally gets put in her place for good. Until Saturday.
Good to know my car takes after me: failure in its very purpose of existence.
And a shout out to all my wonderful friends who bless me with their time, labor, and vehicles.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 15 people you like and include me. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (band name)"
Pick your Artist: N'sync (aritist, really?)
Are you a male or a female?
I Thought She Knew
God Must Have Spent A Little More Time on You
How do you feel?
Describe where you currently live:
Forever in Your Heart
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Your favorite form of transportation is:
I Drive Myself Crazy
Your best friend is a:
You and your best friends are:
Bringing 'Da Noise
What's the weather like?
Favorite time of day:
Kiss Me at Midnight
If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?
What is life to you?
It Makes Me Ill
What is the best advice you have to give?
Tell Me, Tell Me, Baby
Thought for the Day:
Do Your Thing
How I would like to die:
No Strings Attached
My soul's present condition:
Everything I Own
This I Promise You
Monday, December 7, 2009
Here is my old favorite video. Bear with it. There are some neat effects to be observed and more than a few cackles to be had. However, I think this amazing music video truly does stop-motion justice. Not only does it create a cool story with a different technique, it is a truly out-of-the-box creation.
And I just want to say that I am still refusing to admit that I should be in dead week mode. Friends---count me irresponsible.
Friday, December 4, 2009
You know how when you drive by a bunch of trees that the sun is shining through, the light flickers really quickly through them? Couple that with my incompetent muscle functionality, and the killer combination provides not one, but multiple twitches/spasms/convulsions in succession. Yeah, you got it. I look like a seizure victim. Could this potentialy be dangerous? Yes, for two reasons: One-driving is a hard thing to do when you can't fully control your faculties. Two- looking attractive is a hard thing to do when you can't fully control your faculties. Two cons for my single lady's marriage resumé, which I will be posting on my blog soon--keep an eye out, and let all your single brothers and friends and friends' brothers know too.
However, one of the more descriptive memories of my twitch encounters happened earlier this fall as I walked through the halls of Cornerstone Church, carrying some Anthem CDs down to the gym for the Salt Company. Swiftly the twitch overcame my muscles, and without a chance for my mind to object, I soon found my arms thrown to one side, and the precious cds strewn all about the floor. Self-control clearly isn't one of my strong points--so much for the Fruit of the Spirit.
And a health note from your self-designated advisor--
This, my friends, is the devastating affect that poor muscle control can have on one's physical self (and personal self (is that redundant?), as I delegate the responsibility of my singlenesss to this very problem). Don't let those soft and squishy guns fool you--they'll get you back for all the times you've foolishly embarrassed them in attempts to bring friends to the "gun show." The lesson in this? Be wise, my friends. Muscles are people, too.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
My family all came to town this week, and though because of a dire situation, I absolutely loved having them here. We decided to catch breakfast one morning at Panera, and after some pointless and amusing conversation along with oogling over our one-year old nephew, we departed in two separate cars. Parked opposite of each other, end to end, I commenced backing out of my spot, looking in my mirrors and over my shoulders like any good driver--also denoted as "any good Noll." In the midst of my reverse action, my brother decides instead to be enthralled with our brother-in-law and flies into reverse without any mirror-checking. This is where the denotation of "any good Noll" comes in. I hereby assure that Gabe is, in fact, the least favorite child.
Long story short (I suppose I'm too late for that now), I back my car into the side of his, and instead of concern, laughter ensues from both parties. With a shrug, we continue on to the rest of our day.
That is my family. Well, just one of them, I suppose. I would say you meet one, you've met them all, but we are each entirely different. In case it wasn't obvious from just knowing me, I'm the favorite child. Just sayin, Mom...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
This begins when everyone else has done their part and enjoyed some pizza. Although a seemingly daunting task, with the right people and a spoonful of sugar (just makes everything go down better), re-cleaning the stadium is a whole lots of fun! Heres what we do as soon as we tell people to go home:
1. Purify the Club section of Salt Co. cooties.
2. Give magical rides on the EZ-GO (or when I'm lucky, the Gator =)) to set the stragglers off in the right direction.
3. Return supplies to the annex shed which, I have decided, would make a great place for a horror film with all its horror-like supplies and deep dark shadows.
4. Begin on the concourses playing what I've decided to call "Trash, Trash, Leaf". This game requires a mode of transportation, trash bags, gloves, keen eyesight, and friendly laughter to spot and make a dash for each piece of left-over trash, while the others whoop and hollar encouragements (not uncommonly,"DO IT.") or join in the mindless running-abouts. The game got its name from the repetetive experience of spotting what looks to be like trash, but is in fact, the common leaf.
5. Move onto the parking lots, and pick up some serious driving speed. We're talking 20, 25 mph here-- the big leagues. Don't come without a signed release. Also, this is when the drive-by pick-ups begin. Although this requires me to basically come to a complete stop on the driving apparatus, it is a polished feat of which Laura and Brian are the running champions.
6. Find cool finds. Like brawtwursts so far gone they look like human feces, or sunglasses, or a bike helmet, or maybe even an un-manned running dumptruck.
7. If you're Lauren, scream at possessed beer cans spewing beer. If you're Laura, laugh hysterically at Lauren. If you're Elena, run and jump on the can, exploding it into oblivion. If you're Karissa, continue picking up trash uttering but a slight chuckle and amused grin.
8. Fill the cart's bed with trash, but be sure to leave some breathing room for Lauren.
9. Throw trash into dumpster, preferably not all over the ground or self.
10. Commemorate good times with photos or possibly a quick run through the sprinklers on the field.
11. (Optional). Get in trouble for being on the field by a security guard, and when asked, tell the truth so convincingly he doesn't ask any more questions and lets you go.
12. Lock up the stadium gates.
13. Try to cram everyone into Elena's car filled with coolers and water jugs. Leave the stadium singing.
And that my friends, is what happens when "stadium cleanup" ends.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
There is a shirt out there...a shirt with magical powers. How do I know, you ask? Over a thousand reviews have spoken the awesome majesty that accompanies this shirt endowed with three wolves howling at the moon. Dwight of The Office proudly wears this tee around his girthy frame, and even ABC and NBC News thinks its worth their precious reporting time. Need I say any more? Check out the first-hand experiences here. You will be nothing less than amazed.
Here's a taste:
Great compliment for my skin art, May 19, 2009
By overlook1977 (Raleigh, NC United States) - See all my reviews
Unfortunately I already had this exact picture tattooed on my chest, but this shirt is very useful in colder weather.
So do yourself a favor and make a believer out of yourself. I hope this gem of a video helps.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Good thing I can, cause its pretty funny. Rachel was sitting next to Jase on the couch, both of them thinking in their heads (and then saying outloud) how ridiculous I am when I'm tired. Funny things were said, and on one such occasion, Rachel's intake of water decided it would rather not be inside her body any longer. And so she laughed, gagged, and then spit much of the water into her hands....but some managed to land on Jase's shirt. Actually, alot did. She quickly laughed, jumped up, kind-of apologized (cause you don't really have to do that when you're engaged), and hurried to the kitchen sink where she came quite close to upchucking.
She came back with wetness on her face, so of course I asked, "How is there fluid by your eye?" Simple question, simple answer : "My eyes...cried."
There still remains the lingering question yet unanswered: was Rachel really just angry with Jase and looking for a way to let him know? Hey guys, come on now....save it for marriage counseling.
Yeah, Rachel just did ALL of that.
And it doesn't help that my knees think they're old and believe they have arthiritis.
Ugh. I'm gettin older, and with age comes responsibility. I just didn't realize responsibility has alot to do with physical inactivity.
Thanks for letting me vent :)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Although I do believe, I must pose my one question for our crafty santa-man. How do you plan to fly CyRide to visit all your faithfully "nice" people on one snowy Christmas Eve night? I know the weather is nice here and the campus is beautiful, but you should probably get your priorities straight. And put yourself in Rudolph's shoes, for goodness sake!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Some days I decide to dress up for the heck of it. This was one of these days. I had also recently discovered my love of leotards, but not the disutility of them. Being of this mindset, I donned a dress, layered it over a leotard and jeans, and headed out the door for work. I had things right there, mind you. But because of the nature of the leotard, I was required to undress completely to use the bathroom. And if you know me, you know that by no means would the bathroom elude me in a day. That said, I went straight from work to my two classes of the day, saw a couple friends, and even made it to the bookstore before I found a tag sticking out of my dress...on the side. Unusual. After a quick inspection I realized that my dress was on inside out. Very little thought process brought me to the embarassing conclusion that I had been wearing it as such for the last couple of hours, through all of my classes. Yeah...I just did that.