Time to vote.

Okay. I need your votes. And by me, I mean my incredibly adorable niece Asia does. She's in THIRD place in a competition out of 1,765 babies. Help her win, and I will love you forever.

Ready for picture overload?  Look at these and tell me she is not the most adorable baby ever.

(No but really, she fell asleep like that.)

I'm basically in love with her.

Vote here!

You can vote once per day (I know that you will). Competition ends October 3rd!

If she doesn't win, consider yourselves shunned.

Things that annoy others, often bring me joy.

I secretly love when the strings on your sweater are a little uneven.  (See hot hoodie models below.)

 

 

Good work, boys.

I also love when there's time left on the microwave.  I mean, love may be a little strong, but I don't hate it like everyone else seems to.  If there's time left I'm like "Oh, cool."  because either a. It'll cook whatever I have and I only had to exert myself to push one button, or b. I finish that time and put more time on if I need it. No big.

What about the "I want to see the tiiiime" complaint?  Wear a watch. All the cool kids are doing it (aka, really only I wear a watch, so).  I have such a habit of looking at my wrist, I don't think to check the microwave.

(My watch is no where near this cool, fyi. Someone get on that, though.)

I also wear a watch because I always need to know what time it is.  Strange for someone who is chronically and depressingly late, no?  If I said I'd be on time and you believed me, you're the one who's a fool.  And then when I am on time, people are so pleasantly surprised, whereas otherwise, it would be no big deal.  See?  I know what I'm doing.

Tabs. I love them. LOTS of them.  We're talking, tabs for the many many many things I like to do on the internet.  For example, what my Firefox browser has open at this exact moment:

That's not so bad, actually. A pretty good day for me.

...if that was all.  And now, my Google Chrome browser:

I'm actually watching this video right now and it is fanTASTic. Please, listen to it immediately.
Enjoy.
You can thank me later.

(p.s. Watch this one too. Also incredible.)

I just like tabs. Everything is laid out there and open, because I usually do like 27 and a half things at once while I'm on the computer. No opening the same websites over and over, blah blah hassle.  Also, I'll often start something, get distracted and start something else, etc etc etc, and soon (or a couple hours later) I'm like wait. What was I doing again? I then start closing out tabs and it'll eventually get me back to where I was hours before. (Repeat for most accurate results.)


There are a ton of other things that annoy most people but that don't annoy me, I know it.  I just can't remember most of them at the moment.

Speaking of, I love having a terrible memory.  You have no idea how easily that gets me off the hook for not remembering facts, details about people's lives, events that happened, etc etc etc.  Also, when someone asks me if I remember when 'this and this happened and you said that and he did this' and I have no idea what they're talking about, it's better for me when they tell the story because I get to live it again as if it was the first time.

Sure, I forget some of the good things that happen, but I also usually forget the bad.  It's like the "forgive and forget" thing, but with exponentially less effort.

S'all good by me.


p.s. I just bought a bag of peaches from 3 kids that came to my door. My initial instinct was to say no, like I do to almost all door salespeople (I cringe and want to die every time I do), but they were so cute! Also I'm pretty sure this peach is one of the best I've ever eaten. Win.

Dear Facebook Web Engineers,

I'm sure you are painfully, painfully aware of how much whatever you just did is costing the Facebook Corporation every. single. second.

Sorry you just lost your jobs.

Okay Utah, what's the deal.

I rarely wash my car. Like really... a few times a year, maybe. I don't know, I don't keep track.


Anyway. Without fail, Utah has consecutively rained within 24 hours of when I've washed my car. Every time. Basically I don't wash my car at all in the Spring, because it'll rain the next day anyway, so it's a futile effort.


So yesterday I was like Okay. It's been like a month since it's rained, it's hot, it's sunny, not a cloud in the sky and I'm kind of starting to not be able to see out of my windshield. It's time.


Wrong, stupid girl.

It hasn't rained once in the past 24 hours... not twice... but three times. Normally I would be stoked out of my mind for it to rain three times in one day. We all know I'm basically in love with it.


But today I'm convinced that Utah planned some sort of cruel plot against me so that every time I went inside, the rain would sneak attack. Not only did I not get to play in the rain, but might I remind you about my Clean Car Curse.

First time it rained today? In the wee hours of the morning. I was asleep (surprise). Car damage? Not too bad, at least there weren't any dirt spots.

Second time? At work. Oh, and cute. You brought those dirt spots that you forgot the first time around. I appreciate your dependability.


Third time? Brought dinner to Lisa and Tyson, chatted for an hour or two, and left to find that it had poured, unbeknownst to me, while I was inside.

...While I had my windows down.

I laughed (out loud. 'Lol' to you old folk), got in my car, wet butt and all, and drove home.

Love me some rain. :)


p.s. Dear Rain, please don't think that this means that I love you any less. I adore you. Come visit more often, even if it's when I've just washed my car. At this point, it's like a cute inside joke between us, right?

44 Hours and Counting.

I hope you didn't see my title and think that something incredibly miraculous or exciting is supposed to happen in 44 hours. No really, you'll be seriously disappointed if you think that.

Because aaactually, I've been awake for just about 44 hours. It's a good thing my mom doesn't read this blog even though I've sent her the link like 27 times and said "Hey, read my blog." (Remember how I'm a completely spastic person with a terrible memory and no sense of direction? I thank her for these incredible attributes). Anywho. I'm glad she doesn't pay all-too close attention, because any time she finds out how late I stay up she says "Now that worries me..." as if it will be the cause of my life's downward spiral of doom as I begin the troubled life of a crack addict. Well too late for that, Mom.


Kidding. Remember how I'm completely delusional from lack of sleep? Also but really, pretty sure I could be some sort of drug lord if I really wanted to. The parents always said I could do anything I put my mind to. Not my fault they never specified.


Also I am waaaay off track here.

To everyone who isn't already aware: My name is Melissa, and I am a [insert word that holds more weight than "Night Owl," but isn't as serious as "Insomniac"].


On that note, I promise I'm not an Insomniac. Really, I'm not.


1. I can fall asleep whenever I want.
2. Interrupted? Rarely. When I sleep, you'd better believe I sleep.
3. Waking up early? Hahaha. I don't do that.
4. Light sleeper? Never in my life.
5. Chipper as ever after sleep.
= Not an insomniac. :)

On a side but completely related note, I'm a chronic Googler. I Google everything. I even text Google multiple times daily. Anyway. I was Googling synonyms for "Night Owl," trying to find a more appropriate way to label what I am to more accurately depict my situation to the masses of my blog (ps, International readers, I'm still waiting to hear back from you about all of those International positions [and presents] you were to offer me. Just an observation), and I found this:

"night owl (plural night owls)

1. (idiomatic) One who stays up late at night or goes to bed late.

He's a night owl. He would rather stay up until 6am than wake up at that time."

Um. Remember that one time, when I had work at 6 this morning, so I decided it would be easier to just stay up all night rather than risk sleeping in through work, and now that's why I'm here, still awake, 44 hours later? Seriously, if it's within 4 hours I'm like eh, alright. All-nighter it is. Bring on the cooking channel and Hyperbole and a Half. (Also, yesterday I'm pretty sure I watched like 7 hours of Iron Chef America. If you ever need to know how to incorporate peanut butter into a sea urchin dish, while making sure that it is both appealing to taste and an aesthetically pleasing presentation, hit me up. I've got some ideas.)

(So creepy.)

Anyway. So here I am, at 3:53 am. I'm honestly considering just staying up all night. For the second day in a row. I've never done that before, and I'm always looking to try new things. ...is this the wrong kind of thing that people want to try? Like, "Let me see how many times I need to be punched in the face before either a. The puncher's hand breaks or b. My face breaks?" I don't know why that's my example. But also, on the being punched in the face thing, I have honestly and truly wanted a black eye my entire life. Friends and family can vouch for this. But never have I #1. Had the courage to actually do something to myself that would intentionally give me a black eye or 2. Had a friend/ family member who has had the guts to legitimately punch me in the face. What GIVES. Man up. Also, I was told to man up twice today, by two different people. Um, hello. I am not a man. Surprise.

Anyone?

If you made it this far, why? I'm sorry you just endured that. I have no idea where I was going with what I was saying, but I'm pretty sure this blog is ridiculously long, and that it has no real plot to it (Do blogs have plots?), and I'm pretty sure I didn't actually end up finishing a single one of my thoughts.

Haha, oops. I'm not insane.



And now I have to go find some picture from either the internet or my random and obnoxious pictures to put in this blog, because I'm pretty sure I've put pictures in every single one of my posts, but only because Lisa complains about blogs that don't have pictures. Hello, we need something fun to look at. Also I'm pretty sure that's a toooon of straight text up there. So I'm going to go back and add pictures. Sorry if they have nothing to do with the paragraph, I don't feel like going back and reading them at the moment.

I'm done writing for now, at 4:03, for your sakes. I'll include an update at some point to fill you in on what time I did (or didn't) end up going to sleep. You're welcome, in advance.

4 am face. Come visit during that hour some time. It's nice, I promise. :)

Mauve.


(Update: I went to bed shortly after finishing this, because it was probably the right thing to do. Also because it felt like my arms were having an out-of-body experience, and I'm pretty sure that's not normal. Also, this afternoon when I went back to read this, I was like wtf? More delusional than I remembered. Oops. Never again.)

Time to grow.

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
-Anais Nin
Grow in every way possible for your best.

Working on it.

We have a special kind of relationship.

Conversations via chat with my dad and me:

"Me
I mean you really aren't good at very many things...
Jay
yeah, i know
i was thinking of being a male stripper . . . what do you think?
i heard the tips are really good for hunks like me
Me
COOL Dad, I now need to gauge out my eyes.
And my brain."

"Me
Also, my roommates want to meet you guys.
Jay
:)
i can understand... everyone wants to meet me
Me
Well, mainly they want to meet Mom.
But if you have to come, I guess that's okay.
Jay
hahahaha
Me
Just try not to talk, would ya?"

"Jay
i deleted you
Me
Good. I was tired of getting your constant updates.
Jay
constant?
there's only one update for me
"is awesome again"
Me
Then I don't know who the man is who has your same name, pictures, and statistics, but he sure is obnoxious.
Jay
probably . . . my picture gets used a lot in other people's profiles, but can you blame them?
the other day i was at stater brothers and this gorgeous woman came up to me, threw her arms around me and said, "mark, it's you!"
i said, "who"
and she said, "i know you, mark, you look just like your fb picture"
Me
Oh, that was mom. She's into those role play things these days.
Frankly, I think she's insane.
Jay
hahahahahahah
oh geez, that was a good one!
i just woke vickie up..."

"Jay
so do you like my profile pic?

(Do you SEE what I mean?)
Jay
Jenni says i look like a pedophile
Me
Oh, so you're not one anymore? Did you get that legal stuff all cleared up?
Jay
i know the right people
Me
13 year olds don't count.
Jay
i know, you never counted when you were one, either
Me
I thank you for my high self esteem, pops.
Jay
you're welcome."

"Jay
well, amber, it's been nice talking to you again
Me
Haha I hate you.
Jay
hahahaha
i just woke vickie up
from laughing too loud (He does this a lot.)"

He's seriously SUCH a freak.


But how many people, when asked why they're giggling so much and who they're talking to, can respond with "Haha... my dad."

(A copy of his supposed greatest hits CD. He went around saying he was selling them for only $25.00.
...I still haven't received my copy.)

He's also kind of amazing (all my doing, I assure you).


Taught him everything he knows.

Since I know everyone was sick with worry...

Got 'em. :)

Granted, I wouldn't have really cared if I lost the keys. Or the flash drive. Or the cool laser pointer that shoots a blue light at people.

Buuut. I would have missed that lanyard. Is that geeky of me? I sure hope so. You guys, I don't keep small things that I use all of the time for very long. I used to lose watches like they were made for a 'one-time only' use. Sunglasses were an even more unfortunate story. But this lanyard I have had for over 3 YEARS. We've got history.

You don't understand, I don't DO that.

Plus, I got it in Ireland. Since I've like, been there and stuff.

Precious.

Sometimes, I'm just kind of dumb.

Friday: Lose your keys somewhere on campus. Seriously, you're an idiot. Your keys have a bright lime green LANYARD on them.


Who loses that kind of thing? You do. Please wait til Monday to see about getting them back. Until then: Haha for you! Good luck getting home, sucker. Your car is in the parking lot not too far from you, but it's just there to taunt.


Good thing you and the city bus are pretty tight. You can get from Point A to Point B. Usually. Sometimes. On the really good days. When your hair looks good.


Redeeming note: Luckily for you, you're a freakin' genius and have a spare key to your car AND your apartment. Look at you go, Ms. Responsible.


Saturday: You brush your hair AND have your shoes tied (but really only because you slip them on and never actually untie them, but that's beside the point). Today has already been a productive day (see above).


Fast forward: Time to go watch a movie with some of your favorite people on the planet. Granted you're still in your shiny orange basketball shorts, and those are really not to be worn in public. Change. Brush your hair again (you are seriously on a roll today). Lock yourself out of your bedroom, spare keys inside.

(On a side note, I don't actually know this man, but this is what Google images gave me. I decided to use it because 1. He has a sweet beard and we all know how I feel about beards, and 2. I read on his blog about how he locks himself out often, so basically he and I are twins. Except for the beard thing.
Is use of this picture illegal? Probably. Leaving a comment on his blog now.)
...Wait. What? Plan: ruined. Push. Turn. Pry. Credit card. Whine. All to no avail. Good thing you have friends who will feed you cookies and let you watch movies in their apartment, tall beasts of boys who can scale walls and break into two-story windows, and roommates who will eat chili and doughnuts with you afterward so that you can laugh about the whole thing and listen to stories about Belissa, Bourtney and Bristen.


Sunday: So far, so good. But it's only 9 am. You've got time.

Anyone wanna lend me their keys or other valuables? Hit me up.

I'm an international sensation.

Dear people of:

Brazil
United Kingdom
South Africa
India
Spain
Egypt
Canada
Colombia

Who are you, and what interest do you have in my blog? I can see that you've been looking at it- no need to be timid. I'm flattered, though I really don't think that it deserves all of this world-wide attention. But, since you're looking, please contact your country's superiors and see about getting me some sort of high-paying international position that requires me to do little to no work, but that has incredible perks. Traveling is a must, gifts are optional (but encouraged).


I look forward to hearing from you.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Me and Michelangelo. We're tight. Balloon style.

Thank you, balloon man, for coming by and brightening my work day with your creepy vibe and sweet sweet balloon tying skills.

"See ya, peanut butter cup."

(Upon telling someone goodbye and reminding them about the ice cream flavor they owed me, this was the exchange that proceeded.)

"See ya. Peanut butter cup."

"See ya tomorrow... and you can call me Ben."


Clever.

Pursuit of Happiness.

I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know
Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold
I'll be fine once I get it
I'll be good

"I like your... baby."

A few years ago, I received a compliment from some girl who's name I do not remember. She said "Hey, I like your shirt." "Oh thanks!" I said, and thought nothing else of it. She stood there, waiting. After a few seconds of awkward silence she goes, "Well don't you like anything about me?"

Uhh. Wait. What?



I feel like generally, we give compliments out of the goodness of our hearts, or because we genuinely like something, and not to receive a compliment back or to make it blatantly obvious that our self-esteem is low and we're in need of empty praise. Anyway, that's beside the point. I think I complimented her shoes, or something, and carried on my way.

I told that story to a friend today. A couple hours later he told me that my "I like your shirt..." story had just ruined his day. I asked what he meant by this, and he said "I was at the post office, and a lady said she liked my shirt. I panicked, remembered your story, felt obligated to reply and said "Thanks... I like your... baby." She just stared at me."

If that doesn't count for good deed of the day, I just don't know what does.

I'm an incredible conversationalist.

Melissa:
        -2 morality points.

Jim:
        I'm going to have to give you -23 for starting a morality point system.

Melissa:
        It'll keep things interesting.

Jim:
        That it will.
        +9.

Melissa:
        I vote that I'm still winning.

Jim:
        Oh, hate to see that. -3.

Melissa:
        You're taking away points for the stupidest things.
        -293479823754.

Jim:
        Jim is awesome +99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999.
        Clearly I'm aloud to act as a third outside party to judge myself as well.
        Completely unbiased of course.

Melissa:
        You can't award yourself points!!
        Cheating punk.

Jim:
        Woah woah, it isn't my fault if you didn't think up a loophole.

Melissa:
        Melissa has the right to deny all self-awarded points, and in doing such, can also give penalty points to those who award points to themselves. Jim does not get this power, and in fact, gets no power. Ever.


Welcome to the majority of our conversations.

Cocoa Puffs

I really like Cocoa Puffs, on occasion. The best part, of course, is when you eat all of the cereal, and you're left with the delicious chocolate milky goodness at the end. Well, unless you drink too much and your stomach is like, wtf dude.


Good job, Cocoa Puffs. Good. Job.