Friday, September 21, 2012

Of Princes and Princesses

When I was a little girl I like to pretend I was a prince. It wasn't so much that I wanted to be a boy, no, I just wanted to be a prince. Other times I pretended that I was a princess. In my mind I knew that boys were princes and girls were princesses, but sometimes it seemed like they were just two different jobs. When I was a prince I was still a girl, I just thought of myself as more of a warrior. To me that was the job of a prince and a girl could be a prince too. In fact, I often wanted to be a prince even though I really enjoyed being called Princess El. Even to this day my immediate reaction is to think of myself as a prince. Princes seemed so cool and suave. Princesses seemed so cute and kind. As someone who has been called a cute little sweetie for most of her life, cool was the biggest thing I wanted to be seen as.
I would sing along with songs and change the pronouns so I could be singing about a guy instead. As I got older I sang the regular pronouns, but in my head I was still singing to a man, just using feminine pronouns.
In my daydreams of being a rockstar I still got all the men, even when I used "she" and not "he."
I thought nothing of referring to myself by male pronouns in songs because I was still a girl inside and out, the fact that I used "he" didn't seem to matter as much to me.
Like I said, Prince and Princess were just different jobs.

When I was younger I read the Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C. Wrede.

 The main character Cimorene is a princess who isn't very "princess like." She's tall with jet black curly hair, she wants to learn fencing and magic and latin, not etiquette. I loved her to pieces. In my mind a princess should be able to wield a sword, when I played I certainly did. This is where more of the prince mentality came in. To me there were princesses, warrior princesses, and princes. Sometimes i was a warrior princess but this conjoured a more barabric image in my head and I was anything but barbaric. I wanted to be classy, smooth, respected. Again, that image was a prince and, when I played, princes could be girls.

Back to Cimorene in "Dealing with Dragons." Cimorene become the princess of a female dragon named Kazul. Kazul later becomes the king of dragons. Cimorene at first thinks she means she will become queen of dragons but Kazul corrects her. In the dragon world, gender does not mean diddly when it comes to kings and queens because they are actually jobs to be filled. She even informs Cimorene that there hasn't been a Queen of Dragons for many years because not many Dragons enjoy the job.
This was a novel concept to me and I didn't even recognize my own playtime staring me straight in the face.
In fact, dragons choose their own gender once they reach a certain age, which reminded me of the show Lloyd in Space.

In the Season three ninth episode "Neither Boy nor Girl" we are introduced to the character Zoit. Zoit is esentially a purple blob with no distinguishing female or male features.

The one in the dress is Zoit, and no, that's not an indication of his/her gender or gender preference.

Zoit's people only choose their gender upon their thirteenth birthday but before they are told this Lloyd and his friends go crazy trying to figure out what Zoit is. The problem is Zoit likes comic books AND shopping. Zoit has stickers of robots AND unicorns on his/her notebook.
The rest of the episode the girls try to push Zoit into being a girl and the boys try to push Zoit into being a boy. They realize that it's wrong to do that and, on Zoit's birthday, give gifts indicating their support if he/she chooses the opposite gender from them.
How truly interesting that Disney broached the subject of choosing ones gender or gender fluidity by giving us this character. Being free from gender sterotypes Zoit is free to choose their own interests and identify as they choose.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating raising your children as not having a gender because for humans I believe gender is inherent, no matter what your sex is. If you identify as a woman, you're a woman. If you identify as a man, you're a man. If you identify ad neither or a mix of the two, good for you. I find that a bit confusing seeing as how I'm cisgendered but if it's what you are then more power to you. I don't believe gender is a social construct, but there still seems to be a push for pink loving, innocent, unicorn and rainbow obsessing princesses and blue based, fighting, rough, dragon obsessed princes.
I think it's fine if a girl is a "pink" girl.
I myself have always been a "blue" girl. I say this because I have my moments where I love stereotypical manly persuits, but I also indulge in my femininty and "girly" interests and persuits.

So whatever gender you are, do not feel burdened by the title of prince and princess. If you are a girl that feels you are a boy prince, that's fine. If you're like me, a female prince, that's lovely too.
The same goes for boys. Play in the ways that make you happy.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012


The other day I was walking to the library when I cam across, of all things, a dildo on the sidewalk.
It was purple
slightly sparkly
and had clearly vibrated or something at some point because it was broken and I could see it's broken mechanics lying out on the sidewalk.

To be honest it didn't really register at first what I was seeing.

I just stared down at the ground with a sort of noplussed expression. My mind went,
"Oh hey, that's a dildo." and I stared at it blankly for a moment as if it's completely natural to find broken and dirty sex toys on the streets of a small town.
I walked away and then stopped as my mind finally caught up and said,
"Dude, what the hell?!"

Why on earth did someone toss a broken dildo on the ground?

Perhaps some girl had gotten a new paramour (human or rubber, I don't judge) and was so fed up with this abomination of silicone and glitter that she hurled it from her car.

Perhaps another woman took to carrying her "unmentionables" around in her purse and it fell out.

Perhaps it broke and the owner was too lazy to toss it in the garbage...but not lazy enough to carry it around and throw it on the sidewalk .

Perhaps the owner was scared of her parents finding it and tossed it on the sidewalk so it wouldn't be seen in the garbage.

Perhaps a group of teenagers were dicking around with it (pun intended) and tossed it from a car or just dropped it on the sidewalk.

Either way...gross.

Look, your dildo has no place on my sidewalk. I shudder to imagine if I had been walking my dog or  with my sister when I found that.

It's unsanitary (presuming it's been used)

and ultimately!...It's hilarious. Dear God did I find the situation ridiculous. That's just not something you see everyday.

So readers, watch out for stray sex toys and let me know about your findings. I'd like to think I'm not the only one whose ever been in a situation like this.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Pure Enough?

When I was just a little El I read a magazine article about purity balls and purity rings. Now this was back in a time before I was more open and I was a lot more prudeish.  I used to be very against drinking, smoking, doing drugs, and underage sex. As I got older I stopped being such a stick in the mud and realized that just because I didn't want to do something didn't give me the right to judge everyone else. I realized that drinking, when done in moderation isn't terrible. Weed will not make me a monster and smoking, which I still don't want to do, isn't the be all end all of whether a person is acceptable. I was such a little hypocrite though. I didn't mind my parents having wine or beer, or smoking, and I knew my parents were not virgins when they married, so why did I apply those standards to myself and every other kid around me?

I'm not sure why, but my inner voice was a totally self-righteous dickwhistle back then.

Anyway when I was about 12 or so I read this article...and I wanted one. I wanted a purity ball, I wanted the rings and dancing and pretty dresses and lights. I didn't give much thought to the whole purity aspect of it. I just wanted all the bells and whistles.I love my father very much and I saw this ball as a glorified father daughter dance which, up until that point, I had never had. I excitedly told my father about it and he completely refused the idea. I was deflated and confused to say the least. He told me that it was a little bit creepy that these fathers were so overly involved with their daughters sexual development and that I didn't need to go around broadcasting my status as a virgin on my hand.

I thought about it and realized he was right, so I no longer wanted the ring. I grew up, still with strong morals. See I don't think it was bad per se that I wanted to keep myself free of things like alcohol and drugs. As a young teenager I knew what was and wasn't acceptable for me to be doing. As I grew I realized that all these things would need to be done when I felt ready for them, if I ever felt ready for them. When I became an adult I realized how crazy it had been for me to hold myself for so many years to the standards I set when I was twelve.

Honestly, how many of you have the exact same opinions as your pre-teen self? I'm going to hazard a guess at "not many."

Anyway, purity rings were the subject of this. I was watching Taboo the other day and the episode was on teen sex. One of the things profiled were purity balls. As I watched I had a completely stricken expression of disbelief. My father was absolutely right. This was creepy. Some of these girls were so young! How awful for them to grow up afraid to explore the sexuality because of a standard they set before they know themselves. I hardly knew myself at age 12. Every time I discovered something new that I liked or could do I felt great pride at learning more about who I was and who I hoped to become.

I was even more creeped out at the involvement of the fathers. It was downright unsettling. My parents have raised me to be a strong, independent, compassionate, and well educated young woman. My father has always been my biggest hero. Never once did my father make me feel like my mind and body were not my own. Never once did he make me feel like he owned me, like I was property. Never once did he make me feel that I was a fragile feminine creature that couldn't protect her own body and would need my father and my eventual husband to do all that for me. In fact my father taught me how to fight. My father taught me how to stand up for myself.

I wasn't treated like these poor girls. These poor girls who are being taught that they need a man to have control over their body for them. That it is impure and unclean for them to think any sexual thoughts.

P.S. it's not.

But their fathers are so involved with their daughters vaginas. Ugh, I'm sorry but I really don't feel the need to tell my father every sexual thought that floats through my head and I'm sure he appreciates it. I don't need my father to tell me what I should or shouldn't be considering in terms of my sex life. What every girl needs is a father, like mine I suppose, that teaches them that it is ok to have questions. It is ok to think about sex. It is ok to want to have sex with someone and not be married to them. We all need parents who teach us how to have healthy relationships with everyone. Not relationships that are seemingly based on ownership. Not parents who teach you that your worth is measured by your purity.

We don't live in the biblical ages. Women and men need not be virgins before they get married. I noticed though, that these balls are only for girls. I don't hear so much about boys taking pledges and vows. I've heard of boys wearing the rings, but it never seems that as big a deal is made about their purity.

Why are girls worthless if they've had sex?

Does a hymen dictate whether you are kind?
Does a hymen dictate how smart you are?
Does a hymen dictate if you are passionate? Sympathetic? Athletic? Artistic? Good at listening? Charismatic?

Does a broken hymen mean you are a wicked and base person?

Of course it doesn't.

Does imagining kissing someone you find attractive make you unclean and nasty. Are you perverted? How about after you marry? These girls on the show were talking about making a pledge to keep their bodies pure until marriage and their minds pure after marriage. So is wanting to make love to the person you've pledged your life and love to make you a perverted trollop?

I like to think it doesn't.

Our worth should not be based on who we've chosen to love or how we've chosen to love. It should be based on what we do with our lives, the kind of people we are, the way we treat ourselves and others.

If you truly love someone and they love you as well, then the "purity" of your body should not be an issue. I believe an adult relationship encompasses so much more than sex, so why should a girl be taught that no man will want to marry her if he's slept with her.

If you love someone you don't go "wham bam thank you ma'am" It's someone you want to sleep with time and time again. You want to kiss them over and over and over. You want to hold them in your arms each night when you fall asleep and wake up each day to start your life together. If you would refuse marriage with someone you "love" based on whether they've had sex before, you obviously don't love them and you obviously don't know what it means to be in a mature loving relationship.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Children's T.V.

Alright, does anyone reading this have younger siblings? Younger family members, friends with siblings or kids, your own kids, kids you babysit? Either way I’m just wondering how many of you have spent a fair amount of time watching children’s programming.

I ended up watching T.V. a great deal with my younger sister K as we were growing up. Sister K is seven years my junior and my entire family ended up watching a lot of children’s programming.
Of children’s programming.
We all got rather into it; sometimes it was nostalgic (watching shows like Little Bear or Blue’s Clues)

Sometimes it was educational (Dora the Explorer)

Sometimes it was weird (shows like Maisy)

Some of it was downright irritating. (Wiggles, which my entire family detested)

And then we come to the show Max and Ruby.

Now, my entire family loves Max and Ruby, when Sister K watched it, we would all pretty much end up sitting and enjoying the show.
Now as time went by I started to have a problem with the show.
Specifically this little fucker.

You see that little hellion?
Yes, that would be Max, one of the titular characters. Now before I get started I will warn you, this is me taking a children’s cartoon, of all things, way too damn seriously, but I feel that no one else has ever had the guts to come out and say what a terror Max really is.

The rest of my family thinks he’s hilarious, but I know better. Beneath that sweet smile and those cute bunny cheeks is a true mastermind of evil.

Max is the fun, creative, and mischievous kid brother of the fussy, girly, and stuffy Ruby. On the surface it seems that Max is always trying to have fun and his sister Ruby just doesn’t understand how boring everything she wants to do is! I mean my goodness! Max just wanted to make mud pies and bring them inside, so what if Ruby was preparing to earn a badge for Bunny Scouts by hosting the meeting in their home?
All of the things Max do sound irritating when you put them down in writing. When Ruby is preparing the both of them for a picture he constantly gets himself dirty, when Ruby is having a tea party with her dolls he replaces them with his own toys, when Ruby gives him money to buy a music box for their grandmother’s birthday he buys himself glow in the dark cherry juice oozing vampire fangs.

(Fucking sweet actually, but still)

When Ruby is trying to make a garden he takes all the mud, rocks, and worms she’s putting aside to use and makes a mud pie, he leaves the house without her knowledge causing Ruby to search for him frantically (before finding him at their grandmother’s house). It seems everything Ruby tries to do Max always has to pull tricks on her, get things dirty, and be a general nuisance. But his brattiness is played for laughs.
Ruby is the stuffy one
Ruby is supposed to be the irritating one.

We’re supposed to see her desire to play dress up and have tea parties and keep herself neat as boring.
We’re supposed to root for Max, triumphing over his sister all the time. Never once is Max reprimanded, not by his grandmother, not by other adults shown, and certainly not by their parents. (Who you never see except in a blurry family photo hanging in the den.)
That’s another thing! The goddamn grandmother! She is constantly on Max’s side. She obviously loves both her grandchildren and seems more than willing to help Ruby’s crafty pursuits (like baking or playing dressup) but when Max is ruining everything and her granddaughter is standing there looking shocked and hurt and exasperated what does she do? Chortle and praise Max on his cleverness.
Every time Ruby threatens to tell their grandmother on him it backfires on her. Grandma loves the vampire teeth Max gives her for her birthday. Never mind the fact that he bought them with Ruby’s money, that she earned herself, that she saved up to buy the music box that she thought would be so perfect for her grandma.

Now on occasion Max is shown to care about his sister and want to make her happy, like wanting to have a gift for her birthday or trying, genuinely, to help her with decorating the house or playing games.

You want to know how I think Max could make his sister happy? By considering her feelings for once. In this show Ruby’s feelings are constantly brushed aside. She’s the stick in the mud, the Ricky to Max’s Lucy, the unsuspecting dolt in the force of Max’s wild child desires. She wants to stay clean and take a picture with her younger brother? Who cares! He wants to eat all sorts of messy candies. She’s worried that she can’t find her brother? Don’t worry! He was getting ice cream for her; he’s just the most perfect little brother! Max, our practically mute hero, is always shown to be in the right. It’s his feelings we consider as we see him roll his eyes over his sister’s over emotional tendencies or the stupid games she wants to force him into. We snicker at Ruby’s prissiness. After all, why would any of us ever want to listen to our older siblings?
Maybe that’s my problem; I’m speaking as the oldest child in my family. I’m not saying I want my younger siblings to look at me like a parent, but some measure of respect is expected. Max has no respect for Ruby and the things she tells him to do are never enforced by a parental figure.  I would be nowhere without my parents. If I reprimand Sister K for the way she speaks to me or for something she does, I am backed up by my parents if I am justified in my feelings. (Which usually I am) Yes Ruby is bossy, most older siblings are. Yes it’s irritating about being told what to do sometimes, but when someone in a position of control over you tells you what to do you have to suck it up and just do it ya brat. Ruby even comes off as a little controlling, and honestly, wouldn’t you be that way? A child in your care constantly eschews what you tell them to do in favor of what they want. CONSTANTLY.

Little siblings! Heed my words. Do not act like Max towards your older brothers and sisters.

Now I’m off to go and watch Little Einsteins or something.

Friday, June 15, 2012

A Death in the Family

Before I get started on this entry I would like to say

 I've been reading the Warriors series for about 6 or 7 years. I've grown extremely wrapped up in the stories and characters presented in the pages of these books.
Now this has been the longest series I've ever read. There were 4 book arcs each including 6 books and not only did I read those, I read every super edition and Warriors universe book there was. (I haven't read any of the mangas though, which is so sad)

This is going to sound blasphemous in a way, but I loved this series more than I loved Harry Potter. I was obsessed with Harry Potter so obviously that's saying something.

Okay, I'm going to level with you, I read A LOT. I hunger for the written word and devour ink marked paper as though it's my only sustenance. I can't go to the library without taking out a bagfull of books. I own the entire first arc of Warriors and a handful of books from the other arcs. My town's library has been what's gotten me through being able to read my beloved series.

Many characters from the Warriors Universe have died and each time it is sad. Each time I take a moment while reading to think of the character and have a moment of silence on memoriam for them. Perhaps you think this sounds strange dear reader, but in a way it's not. I've "known" many of these cats since they were first kitted and to watch them die can be heartbreaking.

I'm not here to talk about their deaths though. Through all of the heartache and strife I've borne it out of the calming feeling that my favorite character would stay alive. I. and many other fans I'm sure, have sat in a bubble of peace knowing that the one character we counted on to lead his clan and prove his strength and goodness would stay safe.

But all of that peace ended last night when I finished the last book to find that Firestar, my most favorite character, had died.
 The worst part was that I could tell that it was coming. They mentioned Firestar being on his last life and I knew that if he died I would cry. Every mention of him fighting in battle gave me a twisted and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. So when he finally laid down and relinquished his last life at the end of the most important battle in Warriors history, I cried.
I was not expecting to cry as much as I did though.

I'm no stranger to crying or laughing out loud while I read. I cry over powerful emotions, but usually the ones I cry about are realistic fiction novels. Even when Dumbledore died all I did was stare blankly at the pages of the book in disbelief. But I knew I would cry at least a little bit over Firestar if he passed on. When I realized he was gone, my face crumpled and immediately tears began to flow freely and hotly down my face. I couldn't even bear to read on but I foced myself to contine as the warriors of Starclan took Firestar (as well as Hollyleaf, Ferncloud, and Mousefur) away with them. Jayfeather, Firestar's grandson reviewed every life given to him by their ancestors and I felt fresh sobs welling up within me as Blustar explained the life given by Spottedleaf for love to Firestar.

I went downstairs to find a tissue and ran into my father. He rounded the corner with a smile once he saw me that quickly slid off his face as he saw my red eyes, still glistening with tears. I made sure to tell him quickly what was wrong so he wouldn't be worried and he held me close as I cried and let me explain the grief I was feeling.
It was hard to put into words right then though.
 How could I explain it? I had seen him go from Rusty the kittypet who recieved dreams from Starclan and was destined for greatness, to Firepaw the eager apprentice who had an unshakeable faith in Starclan and his adopted Thundeclan and was bursting to prove himself. I filled with pride as he was made into the warrior Fireheart as if I was a Queen and he was my own kit. I shared in his grief and his accomplishments as he forged his own path. I watched with pleasure as he fell in love with Sandstorm and sired his daughters Leafpool and Squirrelflight. When he became Firestar, leader of Thunderclan I beamed with happiness and excitement, celebrating the oncoming years. Even when the protagonists have shifted throughout the arcs I always waited for any introduction of Firestar. I craved it, I couldn't wait to hear what my favorite character was doing anymore, even if I wasn't seeing the story through his eyes anymore.
And even though I still grieve for him, I know his stories will live on. Firestar and his loved ones will never fade from the starry hunting grounds of Silver Pelt.

Thank you for your bravery and commitment to your clan Firestar. We honor your tireless pursuit to fairness and your endless love for your family and friends.

He hunts with Starclan now.

Sunday, May 6, 2012


Back in high school I used to play a game with my friends called "Assassination."

Before I get into this I feel like I have to say something. Normally I'm a very good speller, but just a moment ago I was adamant that it was spelled "assasination."  When the little red line kept popping up I basically went:
before I figured it out. Hahaha, I'm just kidding. I wasn't sitting at my desk.

Anyhow, "playing assassination." Now I'm not sure how this game got started, but all we did was run up to each other, swipe a finger or two across their neck and had therefore "assassinated" them.
Some of us were better at it than others. Like my friend Tigger.

I had always prided myself on having quick reflexes and for always being aware of my surroundings. Therefore This game upset me greatly. I often wasn't expecting to get "assassinated." See, we'd play for about a week, and then suddenly things would die down, and then out of nowhere I would be chatting with a friend when they would just reach out and stroke my neck and shouting "assassinated!" I would then dodge these attacks, which some friends would get annoyed at. I would also often dodge and then assassinate them before they could even touch me and they would then say I couldn't do that.
They would always claim that they had already touched my neck, but I knew better, I was a deadly assassin.

I don't know why I'm wearing an eye patch...I just thought it looked pretty badass.

Eventually the game just sorta died down, but every so often one of us would grow very sneaky and try to pull a quick assassination on someone else.

Friday, May 4, 2012

Quotes from my friends

Over the past 8 months or so Ive just been quoting conversations and sayings from my you go. Please take a glimpse into the awkward conversations that happen in my life. (Gabe is my roommate, Laura is my future roommate, Bennifer is Gabe and I's next door neighbor and good friend and Kylen is another good friend)

“(getting a g-spot orgasm) and then it’ll never happen again. Like getting a combo in a video game.”

“What is the sound of two balls juggling?”

Bennifer:“I’d eat hot sauce off a nipple.”
El:“I wouldn’t put hot sauce on a nipple!”

“It’s like vajazzling.”

“I’m full of rice and cheese and beans. If you shook me up I could become a sandwich.”
“Some form of dish is waiting inside me, like a Mexican dish. I could become nachos.”

“Fuck you bunny! Face me like a man!”

“Damn El, you aren’t even playing!”

“I just wanna play a meaningless game that brings me joy.”

“There’s a reason most early Irish literature is lost, it sucks.”

“It gave me a map…I do like maps.”

“I will find you Joe Calderone. I will find you and stare at you for a little while.”


“It’s okay, I’m black Korean.”

“They’re just a tiny people with tiny penises; it’s not fair to put them up against regular people.”
~Gabe (when I informed him on the average length of a Japanese man’s penis)

“Except for the North Koreans, that’s not even about being Asian, that’s just karma.”

“That would have to be a pretty flexible erect penis because usually erect penises are, you know, hard.”

El: *snorts*
Gabe: King Bumi what are you doing here?

Gabe: Give me a random major
El: business….fucking business majors, the sworn enemy of all theatre majors.

El: Yesh thatsh right

Gabe: I can’t bust down a muthafuckin’ door with muthafuckin’ dual wielding guns like freeze mothatfucka!
El: You sounded like you were about to start a rap there.


“God is so tsundere”

“Stephen King is so tsundere.”

Bennifer: We could be like a dubstep song.
Laura: Yeah totally, Kylen start throwing things at the wall.

“Hot pot fuck it!”

“Excuse me, when did my roommate become a velociraptor?”

“This shall now be my religious zealot voice.”

“Congrats on not killing anyone.”

Gabe: “I want one of those women I-Get me a prostitute!”
El: “Sure, I’ll save up my money and buy you a whore.”
Gabe: “I gave you a bagel”

Gabe” “They fell asleep as she was riding them and she was like ‘well shit son! Hey you-!’”
El: “You there! Slave boy. Attend to my pussy.”
(on Empress Theodora)

“You’re (El in ghoul makeup) so cute you Satanic little Samara.”

“I guess a twerking zombie girl isn’t that erotic.”

“(to El) Cristopher Walken get out of my room! DON’T PEE ON THE FLOOR CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!!!”

(well you see, I did a Walken impression and Gabe freaked out and I collapsed on the ground laughing and clutching my stomach. I figured I should clarify.)

“It’s not stupid it’s abstract.”

“Teen mudder…nine months of trubble.”

El: What just flew out of nowhere?
Laura: Your mother in a wetsuit, covered in nacho cheese.

“Period is that you?!”

El: Look if we can be sexual to our food we can speak romantically to it as well.
Gabe: Yeah, take our food out for a nice…meal?

“Fuck that, you think I got time to eat all that shit before school? Fuck that balanced breakfast. I a’int drinking a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk, I’ll have to pee all day!”

El: Hey look “I’M MOTHERFUCKIN KAWAII DESU DESU!”……that’s how I read it in my head anyway…
Gabe: My friend is not a black woman…

“Suddenly Walt Disney was like  ‘let’s pump it up’!”

“Keep your mirth to a minimum.”

~El (anytime Gabe starts laughing hysterically)

“Mario Party…wait fuck! No!”
~El (video game title to explain your sex life)

“There’s a Metallica concert going on in my stomach.”

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Breakfast at The Jellies

So last night I watched a movie with 2 of my friends.
Here's some info on my friends.
In my college I belong to an elite (notreally) group of 7 girls. We are the Biddies.
C.M. (aka Orange Marmalade/O.M.)
Rose Dawson
and me.
These are all code names...except for Laura...anyhow.

Actually earlier that day Laura and I had fun as well. I made a very on the spot decision the night previously that I wanted to dye my hair. So Laura agreed, we went to CVS, and yesterday, hair was dyed...and it was dyed well. I felt pretty cool. We cordoned ourselves off in a stall and Laura proceeded to massage my head with dye (that stung for a moment) and then to wash my hair. I wasn't even able to see because water and dye was dripping down my face so I had to feel my way around the stall to find paper towels. But in the end it worked out and my hair looked great.
Moving on.

So Apricot, C.M. and I were all hanging out in Apricots dorm. We decided to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's.

It was glorious. About halfway through we realized we didn't even care about the plot, we just loved watching Audrey be fabulous.
Look at her. She's perfect. Apricot and I are now deeply in love with her and will be fighting for her love forevermore.
Later we decided to start a girl band. This happened due to this conversation
A: Audrey is just perfect, I love her.
Me: but I love her!
A: yeah, but I've already called her!
Me: but-!
A: U JELLY?!?!?

and then I was like "hey, what if we were a girl band and our stage names were things like 'Raspberry Jam'?"

Obviously they loved the idea.
So I'm Raspberry Jam. Apricot is Strawberry Preserves, and C.M. is now Orange Marmalade. We are the Jellies and Orange Marmalade decided that we would sing Beach Boys covers.

Would you pay to see us?

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Can I Get A...

So I must admit that I still love to listen to some rap and hip hop songs.

For a long time I told everyone that I hated rap and hip hop with a passion that bordered on a prep's contempt for a Greaser.

As I got older I started to realize how much I actually enjoyed the hip hop songs I had heard when I was around 4 years old or so.
I still don't like all  rap and hip hop music. I certainly would never hold these songs up against some of the music I much prefer to listen to (and can in fact be obsessed with, *coughbeatlesjazz80s90sandother60smusiccough*)
I've now developed a taste for at least one song from most genres.Good music is good music, regardless of what genre it's from. So in the same sitting I can go from listening to the "Marriage of Figaro" by Mozart to jamming out in an embarrassing way to "Can I Get A..." by Jay-Z

(obviously I am the greatest of all dancers.)

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Fancy College Cuisine

So last night my friend (and future roommate) Laura and I got back from being front of house and working our college's production of Twelfth Night for about the fifth or sixth time. We were a bit tired and, as it was Friday night, we decided that fun times were in order...

So we decided to rent a movie. We went to the front desk and chose "He's Just Not That Into You" because we were in a chick flick type of mood.
I was starved (this is a rather normal state of being for me.)

Laura suggested I have some cheese balls.
Usually I never feel like having any and whenever she suggests I have some I often look at her with a sort of misery etched into all of my if I can't bear the thought of eating these puffed,processed, and slightly stale cheese "snax."
At first I opted for a Snickers bar. Then suddenly I looked at the top of Laura's closet where the half gallon plastic jug of Cheese Balls sat as if I couldn't stand not eating them anymore.

 It was hypnotizing. Unfortunately I was far too short to get them off of the top of the closet so Laura got them for me and we settled in to watching glorious and witty love stories unfold on her T.V.

But then I noticed the Cheese Whiz...or rather "Kraft: Easy Cheese" sitting on top of the microwave.
Naturally I put some on top of a Cheese Ball.

Laura was a bit unsure and made me eat the first one. I threw it into my mouth with no hesitation and proceeded to chew it thoughtfully.
It was as though two mediocre cheese products had come together to create something delightfully tasty. I'm exaggerating a tad of course, but they were still pretty good. I think it was the combination of processed orange food dye and pasteurized cheese substance compounding on our hunger that made it taste way better than it actually did. Laura looked at me and asked;
"Why are these so good?" I replied in an impassioned voice full of wonder and amazement, "they aren't."

We ate them until we suddenly realized we were feeling nauseous. 

Thursday, April 26, 2012

And we're off!

Hello folks, I'm El, your lovely, witty, (totally humble), moody, easily excitable, blogger.

I've been thinking about running a blog for awhile and I've noticed that many good blogs start off with an introduction post of some sort.

Let's see, I enjoy cats and ice cream. I'm a theatre major.
I read a lot.
I draw a bit. I might include pictures with my blogs but I'm not sure I really want to put in that much effort.
I frequent, I am becoming a radio DJ. 

What...else am I supposed to tell you? I
I often make movie, song, webshow, and comic references. I am frequently crass while speaking to my friends as well as inciting deep conversations.

Well, hold on until my next post!