25 Facts

For the first time in a very long time, I am starting this blog off just completely and utterly at a loss for words.

As some of you know, I am a substitute teacher. And as most of you know, the primary two assignments for substitute teachers are to 1) Give the students pointless busywork so that they're occupied for 45 minutes and 2) Make sure they don't kill each other.

Well, the other day I substituted for a 9th grade science teacher who didn't know he was going to be out and I had to show them an "emergency video". I had them write 25 facts on this video so that I could assure the teacher that they actually watched it.

BIG MISTAKE.

I decided to root through these facts I collected and it was no doubt a very entertaining part of my day. Here are the top ten "facts" I found:

1. People use toads for magic.
2. Skunks smell...
3. Jellyfish sting
4. Scorpions sting
5. Snakes have no feet or hands
6. That's amazing!
7. That's amazing!
8. Some frogs can fly!
9. Poisonous jellyfish are under the sea
10. Rattlesnakes like to party.

Completely false statements: 3

Completely obvious statements: 5

Completely nonsensical statements: 2

So much for convincing the teacher that I actually showed them an informative video. I don't know how I can be so entertained yet so disappointed at the same time. Oh, public school system. You give me mixed emotions.

My Exciting Black Friday Adventure

Now, usually I don't like to go out on Black Friday. I usually like to stay home and let other people risk their lives buying presents for me wait for a safe time to find some good deals on Christmas gifts for my loved ones.

Well, this year I tried it.

I played a gambling game with my life.

And I think I won.

Here is a timeline of my entire morning.

3:30am - Alarm

3:40am - Wake the brother.
3:43am - Update Facebook Status

3:50am - Leave house.

4:15am - Arrive at RadioShack #1 in large town. Observe line of 8 people already formed.

4:16am - Take a poll of who wants to buy the $179.99 netbook.

4:17am - Find out that all 8 people would like to buy netbook.

4:27am - Discuss this with brother, decide to have me travel to RadioShack #2 in small town. Leave brother stranded at RadioShack #1.

4:47am - Arrive at RadioShack #2. No line. No cars. No signs of life.

4:50am - Very bored, text three people in hopes that one will respond.

4:53am - Friends one and two respond. Both are shopping.

4:54am - Friend three responds angrily. Not sure we are actually still friends.

5:11am - Large man arrives to wait in line behind me. My "fight or flight" instinct starts to kick in.

5:14am - Two more large men arrive to wait in line behind large man #1. Hold purse tighter, attempt to remember self defense techniques buried in the back of mind.

5:30am - Store opens. Netbook received.

5:35am - Credit card declined. Apparently the account automatically closes if you fail to use your card after one year. Tears start to form.

5:36am - RadioShack clerk notices tears, has an internal panic attack.

5:37am - RadioShack clerk #2 notices as well, offers to hold Netbook for me while I go get another card.

5:38am - On my way back to RadioShack #1 to pick up stranded brother and alternate credit card. 

5:58am - Arrive at RadioShack #1. Brother was unsuccessful. No netbook. Hear news that after I left, other unsuccessful customers waiting in line interrogated the brother until he admitted to them my netbook-buying strategy.

6:00am - Attempt to fight against battle of fleshly pride and lose. Repent.

6:20am - Arrive back at RadioShack #2. Netbook was held safely. Credit card #2 was successful. Clerk #1's heart rate seems to have returned back to a normal state.

6:33am - Arrive home. Eat bagel. Sleep.

9:32am - Wake up in bliss. 

In short, reader, I learned three things on this wonderful Black Friday:

1) It's not a bad idea to carry pepper spray. Just in case.

2) Crying will get you almost anything.

3) I never, ever, under any circumstances, want to see 3:30am ever again.

Happy Holidays!

Birds

Now, I know, I know. You're wondering how in the world I'm going to come up with an entertaining blog with the title being 'Birds'. I mean, what do they do? They fly around aimlessly and poop on things. Boring, right?

WRONG.

Reader, I'm going to explain to you right now why birds are one of the most mischievously hilarious animals that God has created, and thus are highly entertaining. Let me elaborate:

Reason 1: Birds fly around and poop on things.

I'm going to ask you one question. What other animal in the WORLD gets their kicks by flying way out of reach of humans and then proceeding to play an intense game of target practice on their heads? And they rarely ever miss! I mean, seriously. That's talent. And if that's not enough, they have this ability to create little poop portraits by turning your car into their own personal blank canvas. Artistic and mischievous? If that is not a vivid example of God's sense of humor, I don't know what is.

Reason 2: Birds are rebels.

Here's what I don't understand about birds: Why do they sit in the middle of the road while cars are driving around, and don't move until the LAST possible second? I mean, do they have something more important to do? Are they in the middle of a highly important bird convention in which they are discussing which human to target next on their poop-dropping game of terror? Possibly. But I think what they are all really doing is playing chicken with cars in dangerous highways. The birds are playing chicken. Rebellious and ironic. 

Reason 3: Birds fly into windows.

I don't care who you are. That's funny.

Touch Phones

So, as you probably already know, there's this weird hype nowadays about touch phones. Everyone in the world just has to have one because they're so much cooler than pushing buttons. But I'm telling you now, they're not all they're cracked up to be and I will explain why.

The creators of the Droid might tell you that it is designed to guess which word you meant to say for your convenience if you spell something wrong or type a word it has never heard of. I'm telling you that touch phones are defiant pranksters who take this privilege way too far. And my Droid Eris is a perfect example of this.

1) It changes the word 'text' to 'redress'.
Do these two words look alike? No. Do they sound alike? Not really. Do they have the same meaning? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Still, Droid found it necessary to correct. Imagine my horror when all I meant to say was "I texted your mom." ....Yeah. Not funny, Droid Eris. Not even a little bit.

2) It changes the word 'and' to 'Spongebob.'
Either my phone is possessed or the creators of the Droid have a seriously funny sense of humor. Either way, it is really hard to get mad at your phone when you're just so dang proud of it.

3) It changes the word 'iMovie' to 'Unicorn'.
Not sure why a mythological creature is even part of my phone's vocabulary, but I can't blame droid, here, can I? Obviously the word unicorn is very customary in most common text messaging conversations. [/sarcasm] Oh, Droid. I'm really trying to think of a time where it's necessary to text someone the word unicorn, but I just can't. For any situation. Period.

Priorities, Droid. Priorities.

I have to say, I can't really be mad at Droid for this. It makes for some funny stories and good times.

I just wish my friend's mom would understand this and drop the charges already.

Charitable Harassment Ahead

So, I was peacefully driving down the street today, admiring the change in my little change drawer in my car, when I saw it.

The sign.

The sign that causes you an internal panic attack.
The sign that makes you wish you had tinted windows.
The sign that keeps you praying the light stays green.
The sign of doom:

Now, I'm not trying to say that I am against giving to charity. That is not the case at all. I'm just trying to say that I don't like giving to this charity for three reasons:

1) I have no idea what in the world the charity is even for.
2) I feel as if I am giving out of obligation.
3) I really, really need my toll change.

I mean, really people. Referring to point #2, the sign is even scary in itself. It's not friendly, or warm, or welcoming. It's warning you to get the change out and ready while subliminally threatening those who don't with those scary, bold, black, condemning capital letters of doom.

And the people collecting money are waiting at the red lights! How uncomfortable is that? It makes me pray to God that the light stays green or that I had tinted windows or something. Because once you're stuck at that red light, you're caught. The people are standing there, staring you down with their bucket filled of obligatory guilt-change and there's no turning back at that point. Especially if you're caught at the very beginning of the red light. Not giving these people your money will be the most uncomfortable 2 minutes and 42 seconds of your life. And you've gotta time yourself just right. There are people standing there for every 100 feet to make sure you don't get away with just sitting there keeping your change to yourself.

I'm just saying. It's scary. And the only way to get out of it is to give those people your money to a charity of who knows what, or you look like a jerk.

For not giving to some charity you're not even aware of.

I think next time I'm going to roll down my window and donate my two cents.

And I don't mean the copper kind.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes?

The other day I was making my bed and a song popped into my head: A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. Has anyone ever heard this beautiful, heartwarming Disney song from Cinderella? If not, check out this snippet below:



After going over the lyrics in my head, I briefly zoned into dreamland as I thought about how beautiful the words are. I did, however, quickly zone back in as I realized how messed up this little theory is. A dream is a wish your heart makes!? I don't know about you, reader, but if this is the case, my heart is pretty messed up. Let me tell you why. Brace yourselves here, people:

The other day I dreamed that I was late to work because I was ordering food at Taco Bell.

So here's the conclusion I'm coming to. If this little hypothesis of Cinderella's is true, I honestly, truly, don't know whether to be proud of myself or feel downright pathetic that during my peaceful slumber my heart wishes to play hooky from work and eat some nasty takeout instead. I mean, it could have at least been lobster or filet mignon whilst on a date with a handsome man, or something to that extent. But my heart wishes for $5 takeout from the Taco Bell drive through?

 Let's see you sing a heartwarming, inspiring song about that, Cinderella.

My Name's Not Monica

By nature, readers, I am usually a very patient person. I am a substitute teacher to children whose soul purpose in life is to torment me, and I am a babysitter for little children who like to get into things. Never once have I lost my temper with these kids.

Maybe it's just adults that I can't stand.

Five times this week, readers. Five times I have gotten a call on my personal cell phone from the same man asking for me to put Monica on the phone.

There is no one in my family named Monica.
I have never even met anyone named Monica.
My birth certificate definitely does not say Monica.

Yet this man continues to believe that my name is Monica.

I explain to him every time he calls that my name is not Monica, and I've gotten to learn that he does four key things before he hangs up.

• Step one: Man giggles, embarrassed.
• Step two: Man confirms that my name really is not Monica.
• Step three: Man apologizes and tells me he thought this was Monica. 
• Step four: Man thanks me, then says "God bless, sweetie." 
• Step five: Man hangs up.
• Step six: Man repeats steps one through five in approximately 24-36 hours.

 I'm not sure if he's doing this on purpose, but if so he's got some weird social problems. How you make the same mistake five times, I do not know. If you really want to talk to me that bad, be honest with me and say "I prank called you five times just so I could hear your voice." That way, I'll be creeped out just enough to file a restraining order. Right now I'm just confused.

I'm really starting to believe that my name might actually be Monica.

.

Holding the Door: Polite Gesture or Unpleasant Hindrance?

So, the other day I was walking up to a door and I was a fair distance away from it. The man about 40 or 50 feet ahead of me was just walking into the door and I was praying to God that he would not hold the door open for me. I was too far away. Sure enough, the man walks up to the door, looks way back at me, somehow decides that he'll still hold the door open anyway, and sure enough follows through.

This is nice and all; I really do appreciate when guys do this for me. It's very chivalrous. But come on, there's a point where you have to make your best judgment: Is this courteous or just plain painful for the two of us? I am about to make a statement that everyone I come across needs to know, memorize, and live out:

When I'm walking up to a door and I'm more than 10 steps behind you, please for the love of God, do us both a favor and do not hold the door open for me.

I end up having a mini panic attack when someone's waiting too far away from me with a door! A million thoughts go through my brain.

"Oh, no! He's holding the door. Crap. I'm about 50 feet away and there he is, just standing outside in 23 degree weather, holding a door open...just for me. I can't walk at a normal pace, or it might look like I'm taking my precious time while wasting his. I can't walk too fast or run because that's more work which negates the convenience of holding the door in the first place! I suppose I will just walk my normal pace, act like I don't know he's there, and then--once I finally arrive--I'll look up, completely surprised! Oh, wait. Now I have to brush up on my acting skills. What if he realizes that my performance is phony? Then I'll just look like a jerk. Dear God, please help me solve this problem."

And after dozens of times of this happening to me, I still have never once come up with a worthy solution.


So please, as wonderful and gentlemanlike as it is, if I'm too far away from you please spare us both the stress and let me open the door myself. If it makes you feel any better, I'll trip and fall once I get inside, and let you help me up. It's bound to be less embarrassing than the aforementioned situation.

Yours truly,
AJ

Be Kind But Don't Rewind
lovelymittens.blogspot.com

Things that don't make sense

Sometimes, late at night, I ponder things. Things that no one else probably ponders. Lately, I've come up with a few things in this world that lack sense. I'm about to share one of them with you in hopes that you can clear up my confusion.

Glasses make people look smarter.

Why is it that when I pass a person in the street and they're wearing glasses, I automatically assume they're smarter than the average person? Really, glasses are for people with bad eyesight. There is absolutely NO correlation between smart brains and bad eyes. None. Whatsoever. It's not like God decided to bless those cursed with bad eyesight and make it up to them in the brains department. I don't think He works that way. In fact, maybe we all have it wrong. Maybe those with bad eyes should have eaten their carrots at a young age. Maybe we should start to associate people with glasses to the type of people who disobeyed their mommies and daddies when they were little. Next time I see a person with glasses I'm so gonna prejudge him or her as a rebel child. It will give dorks a much better name and the whole world will turn around and be a better place. Guaranteed.

And by the way, I am almost positive that this blog will one day solve all of life's problems.

My Cat Rudy

This is going to be short, sweet and to the point. Basically, I'm trying to figure out what goes through the mind of an animal and I think I've hit the nail right on the head.

The other day I was driving down the road and I saw my cat, Rudy. Or, should I say my "former" cat, Rudy. You see, we adopted him and saved him from getting put to sleep. Well, apparently he didn't like our house too much because one day he walked out the door and never came back inside. Of course, we still see him from time to time because he still lurks around the street on which we live. This brought something to my mind. Sometimes, I wish we were like cats. If I left my house and decided to live outside on the same street, I'd feel incredibly awkward every time a family member walked outside and saw me. What exactly is that cat thinking?

"Hi, um, I know you saved me from getting killed and all that, but...okay, your house just didn't fit my standards. The people who live there are just off their rockers. I mean, I enjoyed the free food and all, but as you can see, I'd rather get rained on, snowed on, and beaten up by the neighborhood cats than move back into that crazy loony bin which you call a house. So, thanks, but no thanks, psychos."

Haha, dumb cat. Why would you give up the warmth and protection of a wonderful home where there is free food and shelter, two ginormous dogs, a screeching parrot, and six slightly insane individuals who insist on singing every chance they get?!

...I wonder if he's got any extra room for me underneath that car he uses as shelter.

Doppelganger Week

As you may already know from reading certain previous posts, I am very committed to keeping up with the latest Facebook fads. Well, this week, apparently it's 'Doppelganger Week'. In case you've never heard of this, it's where you post a picture of the celebrity you are told you resemble as your default picture.

After noticing friend after friend participating in this trend, I decided to try it out too. Well, the only problem is I've never actually been told that I look like any specific celebrity. This is definitely a bit disheartening as celebrities are usually very pretty or good-looking.

I decided to resort to one of those online Celebrity Face Recognition generators to boost my self esteem.

BAD IDEA.

Just when I think I am secure enough in my femininity, I upload my picture only to find this:

 

Yes, that's right. Apparently my face resembles that of the famous Hip Hop artist 50 Cent.

...I don't think I've ever been so baffled in my life. Just when I was convinced that I was a mostly estrogen-filled white chick, I learn that I am a macho muscular black man.

Someone is confused, here. Either I'm being Punked or I'm wearing the wrong undergarments... but I really, really hope it's the latter. I've secretly always wanted to sport some rockin' boxershorts.

Holding Hands for Grace

Reader, I've got something that has been bothering me for the past 21 years and I'm quite sure that it will be an ongoing struggle for me for the rest of my life.

Holding hands for Grace.

I know that holding hands during prayer to God symbolizes connecting with our family while thanking God for the food He provided for us. I understand that. I support that way of thinking. I mean, I get it.

But...it's icky.

Reader, the last thing I want to do during cold and flu season and before I eat my meal is hold my hands with two other clammy hands. We're always taught to wash our hands before dinner. This is a good rule of thumb to go by, but why ruin those freshly-cleaned-with-liquid-soap hands and conjoin them with someone who just coughed into theirs? And...how do you get out of a situation like that?

Do I try honesty?

 "Let's join hands and pray."
"Um, no. Seriously, Linda? Coughing into your hand and then taking mine right before dinner? Do you think that's fooling anyone? Your germs + my hand = ruined dinner. Please cough into your elbow next time, you walking, talking germ donor. Nasty."

Hmm. Scratch that.

Do I lie?

"Let's join hands and pray."
"NO! You see, um, my hands hold this terrible disease. Anyone who touches them has a 23% chance of developing warts in unwanted places. Seriously. You don't mess with warts."

Not thinking God would like that either.

I've really thought this through, readers, and I have to say I have not yet come up with any sort of solution to this problem.

• Limiting yourself to just utensils might make you seem slightly obsessive if you're eating sandwiches.

• I don't think you can get any more obvious than whipping out the strongly scented hand sanitizer at the dinner table.
• Trusting that God really will bless this germ-infested food to your body takes some serious faith that I'm still trying to develop.
• And running to the bathroom after every prayer is unnatural and quite frankly just bizarre.
  

Honestly, readers, I don't mean to be rude to the people who want to hold my hand. I really don't. I'm just trying to balance my spirituality with my physical phobias and for some reason can't seem to make the two cooperate. 

Tomorrow right before dinner I'm going to wear two hand buzzers and see if they ever try to get me to touch them again. Will this cause an uproar? Probably. Permanent solution? I'm definitely thinkin'.

Potty Patch Commercial Review

Watch video before reading blog.



JUST when I think that infomercials can't get any more stupid, I am once again reminded not to overestimate American marketing.

To sum it up, what we've got here is a pretend grass turf, so that dogs have somewhere to relieve themselves if the owner is not able to take them outside. Seems pretty logical, right? WRONG. Let's just discuss a couple things here.

1) I'm creeped out by the guy at :05. Just wanted to throw that out there.

2) Skip up to about :08 where he says "Now dogs have a safe place to relieve themselves!" 
...What the heck? What's so unsafe about your backyard? Is a giant boogyman gonna come out of the bushes and attack the little pooch? I actually think that's more effective, anyway. A large monster man will probably make the dog pee right then and there, thus allowing the owner to call the dog back inside in half the time. That's genius. They should invent a dog-boogy man. Okay, that's dumb. But this commercial is not much better. Strike 1 for Potty Patch.

3) At :18, why the heck are they using a blender to pour the water? Just wondering.

4)  :46 Who needs a Potty Patch when your dog just licks up the mess when he's done making it? Beneficial ongoing cycle? I'm thinkin.

5) How about at :10? Uh huh. This looks all fine and dandy but this commercial is sexist, only featuring their female dogs. What about the male dogs who lift their leg? I'm wondering how pretty that nice little scented grass turf will be with pee stains all on the wall. You're definitely gonna need a fake tree now as well as the fake grass and maybe add in a fake fire hydrant while you're at it, just in case. Or, you could just LET THE THING OUTSIDE FOR A MINUTE. Strike 2 for Potty Patch.

5) Last but not least, Potty Patch conveniently ignores the biggest question that the viewers have. What happens when the dog has to go number 2? I don't care if you're the smartest dog in the world. You're gonna get confused if you're told to pee in one place and poo in another.

...Come to think of it... humans would get confused if they were told they had to pee in one place and poo in another.

...The dog is definitely gonna poop on the thing.

So really, all that convenience gets thrown out the window when you've got a difficult to clean, nasty poopy grass thing in your living room. Maybe I'm underestimating these puppies. But if a dog is smart enough to learn how to differentiate between peeing on grass inside and pooping on grass outside, you might as well train the thing to go on the toilet, flush, and wash its paws on the way out.

...Strike 3, and you're out, Potty Patch.

Inside a Woman's Purse

As a new year comes upon me, readers, I find it important to update my own appearance. This, for me, includes getting a new purse and cleaning out the old one. That being said, this blog update is actually for the guys. Many men I've talked to have expressed to me the fear they have of venturing inside a woman's purse. Some of them are convinced that something is living inside there and will eat them, some of them are scared of...erm...feminine things... and some of them simply fear the unknown.

Well today, reader, I'm going to take you on a fascinating journey inside the woman's purse. My purse, to be specific. I think this blog, though not yet written, will prove once and for all that the dudes have nothing to be scared of. I won't speak too soon, though. Let's see what we find. (Click pictures for bigger view.)

Mmm, Stride gum wrapper. (Thank you mommy, for the stocking stuffer.) I wonder if Stride will pay me for product placement for this one? Seriously. The three readers I have may now be convinced to buy some. Relatively normal as of now, right guys? 1 point for the ladies. Let's continue.

Ew. Okay, I admit. What used to be a cute hair piece has now turned ugly. I'm not sure what that brown stuff is, but I'm led to believe it is some sort of chocolate. That's what I get for throwing this into the bottom of the purse. I suppose it's time to throw this out. *sigh*, fine. 1 point for the guys.

A burnt out car headlight. Funny story on this one. Piece of advice for you: please make sure you took the connector off the original before you compare the new and old and assume that the auto-dealer man sold you the wrong sized bulb. Man, that was embarrassing.

Not sure to whom the point goes, here. On one hand, this is a pretty cool, masculine-like gadget that many dudes would be excited to find. On the other hand, it is a weird, almost intimidating thing to carry around in a purse. Let me think on this one.

Hmm, a fake 1 million dollar bill that also preaches the love of Jesus might be an odd thing to carry around in your purse. Though I can picture some robber stealing my purse and thinking he stole a huge amount of money only to potentially experience the biggest buzz kill of his life. Quite possibly a genius way to get back at any future robbers while also planting the seed of truth into his purse-stealing life. 1 point for me.

Oh, please. YOU HAVE ONE TOO. So it comes complete with some pink shaving gel and smells like Spa Breeze. It's still just a razor and I think this is one point for us just because it's prettier than yours. :o)

All right, fine. You win.

5 Sure Signs You Have a Facebook Addiction

I am about to make fun of myself, readers. Yes, you read that right. I, AJ, have an unhealthy obsession with Facebook and I am about to share with you the reasons I am sure of this.
The following have actually happened to me and left me shaking my head at myself. Observe:

You Know You're Addicted to Facebook WHEN...

1) You have tried to 'like' something in real life.
You've got it right, readers. I've done this. I've tried to officially 'like' something that I saw in real life. The other day I saw a chocolate cake sitting on our counter at home and I actually thought to myself, "AJ likes this." Delicious cake? Absolutely. Beside the point? Entirely.

2) Facebook is the first thing you check when you wake up and the last thing you read before bed.
One of the perks of having my computer in my bedroom is the fact that I can check it nonstop. I've literally woken up and checked my Facebook before heading to the bathroom in the morning, readers. I have yet to miss my chance, but let's pray it doesn't get to that point.

3) You check Facebook at parties.
That's right, and my friends never let me live it down. Behind me was air hockey, in front of me four of my friends were playing Rock Band, all around me was loud music, and in front of my facebook was my cell phone. Complete with the Facebook page which was of course easy to access because it's on my cell phone history.

4) You automatically type "Facebook" when all you meant to say was "face".
See above, reader, for an instant example of this.

5) You secretly like to meet new people because that's one more potential person to add to your friend list.
Am I proud of this? No. Do I still befriend people who are not on Facebook? Of course. Do I leave these new friends alone until they've created and/or added me on Facebook? Not a chance.

I know it's bad, readers. And I really wish I could change. I do. But right now I have to update my status about the nickel I just found and then convince my grandmother to get a Facebook. Until then readers, be kind but don't rewind.
<3AJ