Saturday, March 23, 2013

How to Talk to Your Mascot Who May or May Not Have a Crush On You

This is my friend, Roscoe. He is a man ram. We hung out this afternoon on the sand volleyball court and soaked up some Vitamin D. In this picture, it looks like he is plotting to kill me, but that's just the way his face looks. He is a sweet guy ram. 

I got the feeling today that Roscoe was hitting on me. He kept patting my shoulder and flexing his muscles. While I find his jersey and red cape to be dapper, I just don't think things would work out between us. A) I already have a boyfriend, B) I don't want to go behind Bella's back (she is a sweet girl sheep), and, most importantly, C) Roscoe and I already struggle with communication.

For a man ram who is comfortable enough with his body to walk around campus with no pants on, Roscoe sure is shy. To be honest, I have never heard him speak. Today, I tried my best to engage him in conversation. 

"Hey, Roscoe! How are you?" I asked. 

*Roscoe flashed a thumbs-up.*

"That's cool. Aren't you hot in that jersey and fur?" I asked.

*Roscoe waved his hands around*

"I like your cape. Red is a nice color on you." I said.

*Roscoe nodded his top-heavy head*

"Sooooo... What did you do this weekend?" I asked.

*Roscoe waved his hands around.*

"That's cool. Same here, I guess." I said.

*Roscoe waved his hands around and nodded his top-heavy head.*

I hate to say this, but Roscoe is one of the most self-centered people rams I have ever talked to. Don't get me wrong -- I still love hanging out with him, and I totally get that he is shy. I just think he needs to work on his people ram skills. I mean, would it kill him to ask about my weekend every once in a while? 

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Why good girls never win

My boyfriend is many things. He is a baseball junkie, he is an unhealthy vegetarian, and he is a super-super nice guy. He is also slightly messy. While he bathes daily and keeps his laundry done, he just doesn't understand why he needs to fold his clothes or store his papers in a binder. Typical guy, right? 

Like I said, my boyfriend is a super-super nice guy. I would be an awful person for breaking up with him over something as tedious as an unfolded tee shirt. So instead, I put on my nice-girlfriend face and help him indirectly clean up his life. I call it "Operation Sneaky Cleaning Lady." I was pretty successful, too, until last week. 

Here's how it went down: 

We were driving home from a lunch date when my iPhone slipped from my lap and fell through the crack between the seat and the console of his little Corolla. I call this area "the portal." Pens, napkins, and Sonic mints go in, and they are lost forever. 

I stuck my hand inside the portal and fished around for the rounded edges of my phone, to no avail. I found lots of other cool stuff, though. I pulled out a busted grading pen, a baggy filled with potato chip jibbles, decaying and sticky Mike & Ikes, gas station receipts, bottle caps, quarters, nickels, half a pencil, the other half of the pencil, candy wrappers, chip wrappers, the wrappers around bottles of water, crumbled paper, and three uneaten Starbursts. 
But no cellphone. 

"Hey, we should stop at your house and clean out your car," I said. He agreed out of fear that I was angry that I lost my cellphone. (Pssh, I never get angry.)

Five minutes later, I scooted up the passenger seat, found my cellphone, and examined the treasures hiding below. And boy, was there some treasure. The job was more work than we expected. 30 minutes later, I was still stuffing trash into Walmart plastic bags, and my boyfriend was still sucking up Mike & Ikes with the shop vac. 

Then, amongst the wrappers and debris, I found a rusty silver bracelet with a horseshoe charm on it. The bracelet was obviously not mine. I am not the type of girl to wear much jewelry, especially cowgirl jewelry with horseshoes. I knew after one glance that the bracelet had been under that seat for a long time. The fake silver polish was rubbed off in spots, and the chain was broken. It was definitely Pre-Rachel. 

That didn't stop me, however, from giving my boyfriend grief. I mean, if he was going to cheat on me, he should find a girl with better taste in jewelry. 

Here is the moral to this story: Never clean out your messy boyfriend's car, because you may find jewelry from his ex-girlfriend that will make you question his taste in women. 

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Beyonce is possessed by a gyrating demon, and Justin Bieber misbehaves occasionally. I don't want to live on this planet anymore.

"Do you believe everything you read on the Internet?"

"No! Of course not."

Everyone knows the correct answer to that question. Of course you can't believe everything you read on the Internet. Only older, technologically-crippled people fall for scams on the Internet. We young people are so Internet-savvy that we can spot a fake account or scammy website with our eyes closed. 

Just try asking a Justin Bieber fan how she feels about the recent allegations that he groped a fan's boob and she will scream, "It was photoshopped!" 

But try asking the same crazed thirteen-year-old girl if Justin Bieber was photographed smoking pot, and she will say, "He apologized. It's just weed. What's the big deal?" 

(For the record, I discourage talking to any Justin Bieber fan.)

These girls are unable to distinguish fact from fiction when swayed by popular opinion. In one instance, they believe that someone can photoshop an image to make it appear that Justin Bieber groped a fan. Three weeks later, however, they completely accept that their idol was photographed smoking an illegal substance, and, since he smoked weed, it's not a serious offense. 

Maybe we young people aren't so Internet-savvy as we think. 

Recently, I stumbled across a video during my YouTube surfing called, "Beyonce, The Super Bowl, Sasha & Satan," produced by Goodfight Ministries. I would post a link to the video, but I really don't want to contribute to the view-count and encourage the organization any further. The overall message of the video is that Beyonce is possessed by a demon called Sasha Fierce, who makes her gyrate and sing on stage. 

The video features scary music, 11 minutes of b-roll of Beyonce making a grimacing face, and some high-tech video editing that makes Beyonce look like she is, at times, surrounded by flames. The voice-over makes many references to the Illuminati and to opaque satanist symbols, like pentagons and up-side down stars. In one part, the video shows an image of Beyonce wearing a goat ring. 

Out of the 593,000 men and women who have watched this video on YouTube, I wonder how many of them questioned what they had just watched. 

Why would Beyonce be possessed by a demon?

Could that image be photoshopped? 

What would Beyonce gain by being possessed by a demon who makes her make weird faces and flash the Illuminati sign while on stage? 

Why would someone make up that Beyonce was possessed by a demon? 

Would I be as apt to believe this if there weren't scary music playing in the background? 

Saying that Beyonce is possessed by a demon is as bogus as saying that Mark Zuckerberg is possessed by a demon that makes him asocial and nerdy. It's as bogus as saying that Mel Gibson is possessed by a demon that makes him drink and say anti-Semitic things. It's as bogus as saying that Tom Cruise is possessed by a demon that makes him an awful actor. It's as bogus as saying that cows are possessed by demons because you are lactose intolerant.

Obviously what is happening here is that groups of people disagree with how Beyonce dances and sings in scantily-clad leather outfits. (She's a mother, for crying out loud!) However, Beyonce's off-kilter moral code does not prove that she is possessed. Beyonce is simply a good dancer and singer who doesn't like clothes. 

With a few clicks on photo and video-editing software, one sly person can trick even smart men and women into believing that J-Biebs molests fans and that Beyonce is from the pits of hell. Always be wary of what you see or read on the Internet -- especially if you prefer to read about Justin Bieber's transgressions, or about the state of Beyonce's soul.