In Which Shoes are Metaphorical

Labels are like shoes. Say you’re about to go on a long walk on uneven ground, and so you try to buy some hiking boots. You wear a size 7, but the store only sells 6’s and 9’s. Neither fit, but if you don’t try to shove your feet into a 6 and deal, you’re going to spend your entire walk stopping to pick old bubblegum off your feet.

You know what’s a fun game? Pick two random things, then try to make a metaphor about them.

Random thing 1: School. Random thing two: Comedians.

…A school is like a comedian. It’s not as funny as it thinks it is.

 

In Which Audio is A Brat

Am I a Communications Media major? Yes.

Am I interested in television production, possibly even as a career? Yes.

Should I care about how microphones work? Yes.

Do I care how microphones work? NO.

 

I would blast some Nirvana to ease my pain, but my textbook is covering my headphone jack, and the roommate would probably not appreciate my rocking out. She’s a show tunes sort of girl.

Oh my god, I can’t ease pain because of audio equipment!

AUDIO, LEAVE ME ALONE.

 

In Which College Happens

Today, while walking across campus I heard one of my fellow students say to another “…twat. Fucking twat! And she said ‘Whoa.’ ”

Go to college, they said. Get an education, they said. Be around more intellectual people than at any other time in your life, they said.

Well, I’m off to dinner. It’s “Jersey Shore” theme night at the cafeteria. I hear there’s cannoli, and something they’re calling “Ron Ron Juice.”

Go to college, they said…

 

In Which People are Named Stupid Things

Okay, who the hell names their daughter Pebbles?

Let me take a step back, take a few deep breaths, and explain my utter disgust in humankind.

First, you need to know — I’m a name nerd. I love names! I love looking at graphs, and figuring out which names are popular where and why and especially when. I like girl’s names best, but boy’s names are alright too. This all probably stems from being one of only 198 Leilas born in 1991 in the United States. It’s such a unique part of my identity.

So, because I love names so much, I was really excited to find that Social Security offers lists of every name given to at least five children in any particular year. The lists give every one of these thousands of name, and the exact amount of helpless babies who were given these sometimes horrific names.

I started just sort of scrolling around 2009 babies, the most recent data. Soon, I thought “What fun to look at my own year of birth! Good old 1991! Back when stupid names* like “Naveah” and “Messiah” weren’t in the top 100!” What a shock I received upon opening 1991. Sure, the top ten were no surprise. Jessicas, Ashleys, Sarahs, blah, blah, blah.

Then I started poking through the weird names. The names given to at least five girls, but far less than even the 198 Leilas.

Some horrors I found:

Cortni: 45 girls (Clearly some awful bastardization of the super-popular Courtney. This is only one example of the awful spellings people concoct. Things such as Margrett, Willaim, and Jessieca.)

Warren: 5 girls. (Girls! I understand the gender-crossing of the more typically feminine names, like Noah. I don’t see Warren. When your daughter gets her 5,000th business e-mail addressed to Mr. Warren X., she is not going to thank you.)

Prince: 5 girls. (If you’re gonna give your kid the fairly crappy name of “prince,” can you at least make it a male kid? This beats Warren.)

Lamichael: 10 boys. (Yeah, this one just sort of confuses me. It sounds like someone inept speaking Spanish. “This is my friend Michael. Oh, you speak Spanish and no English? Uh…um…este…es…mi amigo la Michael.”)

Christ: 11 boys. (Come on, how’s he going to live up to that? Can you wait at least until the kid is potty trained before putting unreasonable pressure to excel on him?)

Dong: 18 boys. (I’m really, really hoping the parents picking this name are just confused non-English speakers. Otherwise, that’s flat out malicious. Nonetheless, those 18 little Dongs are turning 20 this year, and they’ve grown up around English speakers, and they must be PISSED.)

Pebbles: 50 girls. (OH GOD WHY.)

 

 

* Please don’t feel offended if you totally love spelling heaven backwards. Names are a very personal choice, and whether a name is stupid or not is fairly subjective.

 

In Which I Drive Around Scenic Western PA

My Spring break just ended, and I was forced to sleepily drive from my balmy, relaxing home to the icy North when I attend school. Sure, it’s only a four hour drive, but I’m telling you — it’s a whole damn lot colder up here.

On the way from there to here, I spotted many things of great beauty.

One such thing was a concrete overpass on which some devout soul had sprayed in green paint “TRUST ESUS.” Well, at least, that’s what it said when I passed it last Sunday. I’ve never heard of this Esus fellow, so I’m thinking this may not have been the graffitist’s original message.

Then again, one must not assume. Maybe the…artist who added this thought provoking message to that dull bridge wanted the world to know about some wonderful guy named Esus. Poor Esus maybe has a shady reputation, and the bridge-artist wanted the world to know that Esus isn’t such a bad guy. You just have to trust Esus.

Hmm. I’m thinking no. Actually, now that I think about it, I distinctly remember the overpass saying “TRUST JESUS” the last time I drove past. So this is my real question: 2000ish years ago, when Jesus walked the Earth (and the water), was this what he had in mind? Spray painting bridges? I mean, sure, the dude hung out with the lepers and whores, he wasn’t all about kissing up to authority…but…I feel like vandalism isn’t classy. I want to note, I’m not Christian — I just think Jesus was a pretty classy guy.

So next time you spray paint a bridge, kids, just ask yourself: What would Esus do?

 

In Which I Inherit 7.5 Million Dollars, Twice

My life is pretty darn exciting. That’s why I am starting a blog. Today, for example, I inherited 7.5 million dollars.

See, this lovely attorney by the name of Andrew Williams sent me an e-mail through my school e-mail account. He said he represented one Engl Mark, and that through exhaustive research had concluded that I was Mr. Mark’s next of kin. This entitles me to Mr. Mark’s fortune of 7.5 million dollars. They know I’m his heir, and I quote, “I seek your consent to present you as the next of kin to the deceased since you bear the same last name.”

My last name is not Mark. It isn’t similar to Mark. I don’t have any relations, living or dead, by the name of Mark. Poor Mr. Williams must just be very confused.

Then I discovered that this is not the first time Engl Mark has offered me his fortune. In fact, in May 2010 his attorney Wade Scott sent me an almost identical e-mail offering me 7.5 millions dollars due to the fact and Mr. Mark and I apparently have the same last name.

How Mr. Mark managed to hire a new attorney while dead is a mystery to me.

Don’t say his family hired a new one — remember, I am his one and only next of kin.

 

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