Games

Gaming

This. Is. Everything.

I don’t know if you guys know this, but I’m a gamer. Well, not a gamer in the sense that I play Halo, Call of Duty, World of Warcraft or anything like that. Games have been a big part of my life though. I love video games, computer games, stupid iPad apps, etc. I get addicted to finding every coin, getting the best score, completing missions–everything!

Nowadays games are so high tech. I mean, they seem cool, but they just go way over my head. I have this game on my iPad called Temple Run (it’s so addictive) and the objective is to run as far away from these monkeys that chase you through the jungle. The graphics are better than anything that’s on my N64. It really amazes me.

Computer games really started me off early as a gamer. And I know these games are totally lame, but I still pop them in every once and a while for a walk down memory lane. They all had cheesy names like Pajama Sam, Spy Fox, Feddie Fish, and Putt-Putt. My brother and I still make references to these games. I remember kicking each other off of the computer because we each had our own game going. Perhaps one of the biggest shocks of our lives was when we found out that Freddie Fish was a girl. WHAT?! Still doesn’t make sense.

I was probably around 9 or 10 when Rollercoaster Tycoon came out. I would literally sit for hours playing that game. During 6th grade in Tech Lab, there were different areas where you could, I don’t know, do tech-y stuff. In one of the sections they had a computer set up with Rollercoaster Tycoon. I guess building virtual Rollercoasters is considered lab work. I stayed at that computer for the entire class. The next morning, someone went on my saved game and ruined the park that I had built so carefully. They were clearly jealous of my amazing skills.

Once Nintendo 64 rolled around, there was no turning back. I had no time for Rollecoaster Coaster Tycoon. Super Mario 64 was a family affair in my house. My parents played it just as much as we did. Such good memories.

After that, gaming systems were being launched every other year–Sega Dreamcast, Playstation, GameCube, X-Box, X-Box 360, etc. They all offered some great games. Crazy Taxi was one of my absolute favorites.

Last night on the Daily Show, they compared the Florida Debates to Mortal Kombat and called it “Floridal Kombat”. They depicted Mitt Romney K.O.ing Newt Gingrich. It was pretty funny. Paul leaned over and said, “Do you even know what Mortal Kombat is?” I looked at him, narrowed my eyes, and said “Do you even know who I am?”

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Feelings

Sensitive Subjects

Having blogged for a while now, I’ve noticed that some people like to get into deep discussions. It’s nice that we have a resource where we can share our opinions on different worldly matters. That being said, talking about religion and politics scares me–I tend to refrain from stirring the pot. Every once in a while I’ll jump in a conversation if I feel the need to back up someone or bring up a view that hasn’t been explored, but usually I’ll stay out of it.

I loathed when teachers would make us debate in high school. Debating is basically forced fighting. I don’t mind every day confrontation. If someone cuts in front of me in the grocery store, believe me, I will tell them. But I would never make a facebook status about the topic of abortion to just see what happens. It would be madness. I posted a status saying that the Big Bang Theory sucked and things got weird.

Talking about religion can either be really great, or really scary. I hate when people think they know about every religion and try to teach you about your own beliefs. I’m just going to start telling people that I’m a Wiccan.

I really like learning about religion and mythology. I love how many beliefs are out there and I find people’s perspectives of life fascinating. It’s all good stuff. I may not personally share the same beliefs as everyone (Is there a religion that’s just everything?  Hah slightly contradictory but it would be awesome if you said “My religious beliefs are everything.”) but I respect them. I would never not be friends with someone because of their beliefs. Unless they were a part of the Westboro Baptist Church. They’re slightly cray cray.

Politics scare me because I literally know nothing about them. I try to think of my own stances on topics, but I always come around to the conclusion that I don’t care. Am I the worst person? Possibly. The thing I absolutely hate is when high school kids are into politics. It’s like, why do you even care?? None of this applies to you. You don’t have to pay taxes, you don’t have worry about stem cell research. Just shut up and go to the mall.

Maybe I don’t like these subjects because I have trouble making points. I’m a Libra so maybe my balanced scales have something to do with it? I can always see both sides.

Are there things that you don’t like to talk about?

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Exercise

YMCA

The leather-clad handlebar moustache man is going to haunt my dreams.

Paul and I just joined the YMCA. It’s in an older building so it gives off a slightly ghetto impression, but the equipment is new and they offer a lot of classes so whatever. We worked out this morning successfully and now Paul is going to play squash with a friend. Wtf is squash anyway? More importantly, why is he working out twice today? Psycho.

They refer to the gym here as the YMCA/YWCA. I’ve never heard anyone say “I’m gonna head over to the YWCA.” Why do they have to include women? Why does anyone care that much? Burning questions.

I guess 10 years ago the gym took a vote whether or not to install hot tubs in both the men and women’s locker rooms. The women said they didn’t want one. THANKS A LOT LADIES.

Working out next to random people is so weird. Oh hi, I’m gonna stand next to you and run faster than you and sometimes look over to see if you are paying attention to how great I am at working out. Go away please.

In other news, I literally saw an 80 year old woman doing the rowing machine. She’s probably an X-men. X-man? A mutant.

You know the YMCA song that they play at school dances and bar mitzvahs? I’m pretty sure the Village People had never been to a YMCA because they make it sound like the best thing ever. “There’s a place you can go when you’re short on your dough.” Not true. The YMCA costs “dough”. And you can’t stay there. I’m sure you could in the 70′s or whatever, but now they’ll kick you out at 10pm. That’s no fun.

“They have everything for you there to enjoy you can hang out with all the boys.” They have everything? Do they have a petting zoo? Do they have a roller coaster? Do they have a pizza buffet? I didn’t think so. How old are “all the boys”? I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of 7 year olds and I definitely don’t want to hang out with a bunch of 40 year old men that refer to themselves as boys. *shudder*

“You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal, you can do whatever you feel.” Getting yourself clean is probably the only thing that 70′s YMCA’s have in common with the YMCA’s of today. No “good meals” are ever offered. Unless you consider water a good meal. I can do whatever I feel? I can kick everyone out and have my own personal gym? I don’t think so little black police officer. I don’t think so.

Who do you think is the scariest Village Person?

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School

Congrats Grad!

Note to self: Never get an honorary degree.

Today was my college graduation. Obviously, I didn’t attend. It was held in Canterbury Cathedral (how prestigious!). I would’ve worn a black robe and received a fake diploma (they sent the real ones to us in the mail a while ago) . My school’s graduation ceremony is taking place 8 months after school finished. That’s a quick $2,000 for international students to fly back to England just to attend graduation. Don’t ask me why England is so weird and backwards because I don’t know.

Everyone I’ve talked to said graduation is a bust anyway. Well, not everyone. I have bad memories of my high school graduation. For some reason it was in a church. Not one of those little cute steeple churches, though. It was held in a mega church. One with an amphitheater, a rock wall, and a food court. You could really feel the spirit. The ceremony was around 4 hours long. I remember people giving painfully unfunny speeches and being sandwiched in alphabetical order next to people I had never really talked to.

I’m not sad about missing the actual ceremony–I know I’m a graduate. I don’t need to walk across a stage to be one. The thing I’m kind of bummed about is missing my friends. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t like missing out on a good photo op! But its just not worth it to get on a plane and fly to England, am I right?!

Also, now that I think about it, the ceremony itself probably would’ve been all English-y. Pomp and Circumstance wouldn’t have been played, the announcer would’ve mispronounced my last name, and the ceremonial robes would have had weird red and purple stripes on them. At least I wouldn’t have had to wear the getup that Orlando Bloom got stuck wearing at his graduation in Canterbury. YIKES.

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Artwork, School

Volunteering

Saint Looney Toons

Volunteering has to be the worst idea that man kind has come up with. No sane mortal would’ve thought work without pay was a good concept. There must have been a saint of volunteering. Saint Lunatic, perhaps.

Since I’m not a Canadian citizen I can’t actually get a “real” job. Which is fine by me. I’m one of those rare people that doesn’t mind being jobless. I totally didn’t understand why the 99% at Occupy Everywhere weren’t celebrating their awesome luck. No jobs = no worries. Right?

In order to improve my resume, I’ve decided to do some volunteering work. Being an experienced volunteer, I know one or two things about working for absolutely no money.

Never get your hopes up. Unless you’re volunteering at a soup kitchen, no one actually knows that you’re a volunteer. Most people will assume that you’re a paid employee. So basically everyone will treat you like crap.

You won’t get a sense of pride or accomplishment. I’ve never been proud of myself whilst volunteering. If anything, I’m counting down the minutes before I get to go home. Let me tell you, its a challenge for me to smile, pretend like I had a great time and walk nonchalantly to the door. My first reaction would be to grab my stuff, sprint to the door and say “peace out mutha…” Well, you get it.

However, volunteering looks amazing on your resume. Maybe “amazing” isn’t the right word. Some people wonder why I’ve ONLY done volunteer work and childcare. Sorry I’m so Christ-like.

I’m going to volunteer at a museum. Since I have a history degree it kind of works. I’ve volunteered at a tiny art gallery and also at an Archaeological Trust. At the art gallery I literally stood around for 4 hours every Tuesday afternoon. At the Archaeological Trust I cleaned artifacts and learned how to properly spell Archaeology. Jk I used spell check.

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canada, Judging

Know-It-Alls

Apparently there’s a new show on Canada’s Discovery Channel called Canada’s Greatest Know-It-All. Watching this sounds about as appealing as hanging out with my grandpa for the day. Aka the worst.

Being a know-it-all means two things: you have a lot of meaningless knowledge, and you have literally no friends. Why would I want to watch people like that on TV when I wouldn’t want to be around them in real life? I feel like that show would just make me angry. The only people that should be contestants are people in college. Maybe not though. Know-it-alls come in all shapes, sizes, and ages.

This reminds me of another show that I loathe, The Big Bang Theory. Why would I want to watch annoying people talk about science? I’ve given the show a couple chances thinking, “I really hope this gets funny” but it never does. All of the guys on that show are so fugly. Whoever is in charge of costume design should be shot. No one dresses like that. Not funny. AND there’s a laugh track. Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of shows that I used to watch that have a laugh track, but with The Big Bang Theory it just seems so forced. Here’s a clip of the show without the laugh track. Its just so so stupid.

Oddly enough, I’ll still watch shows like Hoarders and Toddlers and Tiaras and Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Even though I can’t stand the people on those shows, I’m intrigued by their way of life (and by how dumb they are). Okay fine, to be honest I watch Hoarders so I can see houses full of fermented poop, the Kardashians so I can see the love of my life, Scott Disick, and Toddlers and Tiaras so I can be mesmerized by girls like this:

 

 

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Driving, Feelings, Food

Morning Time

Pretty, but not worth the pain of waking up.

You know that saying, “Nothing good ever happens after midnight”? Well, I think nothing good ever happens before 9 AM. Mornings are not my friend. Not because I’m cranky….okay yes, because I’m cranky. Waking up is just so painful.

My morning routine consists of: opening my eyes, closing my eyes again and then trying to fall back asleep. If that doesn’t work, I grab my computer and sit in bed for around an hour until I feel like getting out of my cocoon of warmth. I’m sure you think I’m really lazy, but I actually lead a very productive life. I keep our place clean and smelling delightful, I cook, I workout and I babysit twice a week. If I didn’t just describe your dream woman, then you’re most likely a lesbian.

The most annoying thing about this morning was that my alarm wouldn’t turn off. This had never happened before so my first rational thought was that my phone was possessed. I turned the entire thing off to insure that the demon inside would flee–preferably into the woman who lives across the hall, but I really can’t afford to be picky.

I had to drive (technically Paul drove) Paul to the airport so he could go take an exam in Vancouver. We’re so worldly. We left the house at 6:15 AM. It was so dark and morning-y outside. It smelled like morning. I hate that. The car was cold when we got inside. Granted, its January in Canada, but still. I hate getting in cold cars. Don’t we have enough geniuses in the world to make a car that warms up in under a minute? Or do I have to patent every invention myself?

Another thing that you have to deal with in the morning is traffic. I’ve come to the conclusion that people who drive places in the early morning are all shady characters. I looked in everyone’s windows and no one looked normal. I probably looked the least normal since I was busy staring at everyone, but still.

At the airport, I got a breakfast burrito, no cheese. They messed up my order–there was some weird cheese sauce in it. Paul said it was dressing, but seriously, who puts dressing in a breakfast burrito? Chefs purposely get food orders wrong in the morning because they think people are half-asleep and won’t know the difference if they experiment with dressing in breakfast burritos. But you know what? I noticed. Don’t try pulling a fast one on me, buddy. JUST DON’T.

The only good thing about this morning was that I saw the sunrise. It was gorgeous. I came thisclose to getting in car crashes whilst admiring the solar beauty. It was great, but not as great as going back to bed is going to be.

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Judging

Drinking is never a good idea

How I felt this last night/ this morning...

I never drink. Well, that’s a lie. There was one year in college when I drank a lot. A lot for my standards anyway. It was fun, but its definitely been out of my system for a while now. Last night I decided to go out with a couple of my friends here in town. I actually hadn’t been out in Victoria before last night, so I thought I might as well familiarize myself with my new town.

I went over to my friend’s apartment and we sat around, got ready, and talked about cross-stitching. The other girl that was there is really into it and is certain that she’s going to become filly rich off of her unique designs. Props to her dreams. She bought about 60 different colors of thread at a place called Fabricland (Canadian Michael’s?). We spent at least 45 minutes organizing them into appealing color combinations before we decided to go to a pub.

Before we left, I had 2 Smirnoff Ice things (or Mike’s Hard Lemonade)…whatever. You know what I’m talking about. Then I talked to my friend’s cat for a while. I must have been really making a connection with the cat because she started licking my hand. I think I should consider being an animal masseuse because I’m that good at making animals feel relaxed and comfortable. From the way this post is going, there’s a possibility that I’m still drunk. Just fyi.

Then we got to this pub called the Baird and Banker. Its a cute place, but it wasn’t cute that they ask for two forms of ID. I only took my license and left my wallet at home. Do you know why I do this? If my purse gets stolen, then my wallet is safe at home. That’s what you call a genius move. Even though my purse has never been stolen, I’m still paranoid about it.

Whilst at the pub, we met some weird Guido hockey players. I asked one guy if he was on steroids and he got really offended. I’m sorry but if I can see veins popping out of your arms, the question is begging to be asked. They bought us drinks for some reason even though all of us were taller than their entire team. Yes, I actually found friends that are as tall and taller than me. I have never felt more at ease.

I told my friends that I was going to wait outside for Paul to come pick me up. I felt like I was going to puke. And then I did. Thrice. Outside. People laughed and pointed. Ugh. NEVER AGAIN.

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Judging

Gettin My Hurr Did

Or I could opt for this look...

It always scares me when people say that. But I can’t resist taking in a blackcent. I scare myself more oft than not. I’ve been blonde my entire life. Some years it’s been lighter or darker than others, but I’ve always stayed in the blonde family. I’m thinking about changing my hair color (gasp!) even though my bff said she won’t be friends with me any more if I go through with it. Understandable.

I’ve asked people on my facebook status (yes, I’m one of those people) if I should stay blonde or go brunette. Everyone accept 1 person said stay blonde. Do they know something I don’t? Do freckles look sick with dark hair? Burning questions.

Don’t worry, I wouldn’t chop off my hair. I’ve noticed that when people get married or have children they tend to get the “mom cut”. Not a smart move. Long hair distinguishes you from the weirdos. Although I just got my hair cut and its only a little past my shoulders. So technically, I’m half weirdo, half normal.

I hate when people use the phrase “get your ears lowered.” And by hate, I mean it literally makes me want to throw up everywhere. I remember when I was standing in line somewhere in Utah, and an old cowboy man asked me how tall I was. “Umm 6 feet.” He replied, “No you’re 5′ 12″.” For some reason he thought this was hilarious because he repeated it a couple of times. The sales person and I exchanged scared looks and probably both went home and cried.

I feel like I should do one of those makeover.com whatever sites to show what my hair would look like brown. Ugh all of the sites are taking forever to process my flawless face shape. I’ll work on it more a little later. But for now, whats your vote? Blonde as always, or brunette?

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Music

Festival Season

Not the most flattering look.

The music festival season is slowly approaching. Well, the season for good festivals is, anyway. I can’t think of any that take place in winter, but I’m sure they exist. Music festivals are great if you’re interested in seeing a lot of bands that you like in one fun-filled weekend. However, there are a lot of sketchy characters that go to these events. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to give you a run down of the do’s and don’t’s of being an excellent attendee. So that you don’t end up looking like these guys.

Do be prepared to be sweaty and smelly. Depending on which fest you’re attending, you might end up covered in mud, sweat, tears, blood, alcohol, or crack. I know Glastonbury gets super muddy every year (which isn’t worth it in my opinion). Then after you’re all muddy, you don’t get to take a shower. You have to go back to your tent. I would probably spend the week crying myself to sleep.

Do dress appropriately. I’ve been to Lollapalooza twice. The first time I went, I worse dresses and cutesy things. For some reason I wore a white sweater on a day that it rained and some douche jumped in a puddle right behind me and speckled my sweater with mud. You better believe I whacked him with my umbrella a couple times. From that day on, I learned my lesson–I can be careful with my clothes all day long, but it only takes one unpredictable knucklehead to ruin my sweater/life.

Don’t be afraid to do your own thing. If you go with a group of people, take into consideration that they might want to see bands that you don’t. Unless you and your friends have the exact same taste in everything and are clones of each other, you’ll most likely have this problem. It’s good to split up and go off on your own. Just pick a meeting place, or else prepare to be lost forever.

Don’t buy merchandise. Unless your shirt is drenched in sweat or mud, try to avoid the purchase of concert t-shirts. I used to love collecting the t-shirts from shows that I went to, especially ones that had the tour dates on them. Until one day I realized that I was being super tacky. One time my brother got a t-shirt at Lolla. It was black and in bright yellow lettering it said “I am a Snoop Dog Millionaire”. I’m assuming he got it because he thought it was funny. But it’s haunted my dreams once or twice. Talk about being tickety tack.

Do stand at the back for some of the less popular shows. You don’t need to see every member’s face and take pictures of how sweaty they are. Just stand at the back and enjoy the tunes. Then you don’t have to push people out of the way when you want to leave to catch another band. The more you push people out of the way, the more likely you’ll get AIDS. Definitely try to get to the front for a headliner though!

Don’t transform into a hippie. I think Vanessa Hudgens is the biggest culprit of doing this at Coachella every year. Sometimes she dresses bohemian-y during the year, so I think she’s under the impression that she’ll pass as a hippie at the festival. Seriously? Eye paint?

Trying wayyy too hard.

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