This post does not reflect well on my level of intelligence.
I will now choose to blame the following events on lack of sleep, and hopefully none of you will think less of me for them.
Anyway.
I hate it when people I know get new cell numbers. Or if they somehow get my number without my giving it to them, and they text me expecting me to know who they are (way to be a creeper).
For example, let's take a look at this past Monday night.
I had just gotten out of Chi Alpha, and I was having a delightful conversation with Natasha when I got a text from a number that wasn't listed in my contacts.
The text:
Hey sis, this is my new cell #
I was confused.
I have no sister.
My friends generally do not use that as a term of endearment.
Sparknotes: I had no idea who this was.
I saw that the area code was 909, so I knew it was someone back in Cali.
But who?
Natasha and I decided I should be classy about this. So I replied with:
Who you be yo?
It was not long before I received a reply.
O that's right u have 2 brothers I forgot. Lol
I wish I could say that the realization of the identity of my mystery texter immediately came to me after this message.
But I can't.
It still took me a minute. And by a minute, I really mean three. Of me staring at my phone. Thinking.
Because, as I stated, I have no sister.
But I do have a brother.
Yep.
In my defense, my brother hasn't had a cell in about five years, so saying he had a "new number" was a bit of an understatement.
But this is why I wish my cell had caller ID. And texter ID. It would make me feel so much more intelligent. And make my family members feel so much more loved.
Add some sass to your class,
Jenna
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I Am Irrationally Irked by Women Who Live in Walls
The title of this post sounds ridiculous.
It is.
Wednesdays are generally my favorite days when working at the library because most of my shift is shared with a friend of mine. Yesterday, as usual, we ran out of things to do in the office. So our supervisor sent us to pull books in the stacks.
I love doing this.
There's no sarcasm here. I really do enjoy it.
There weren't that many we needed to pull, so we decided to go together. One of the first books we came across contained an article that a certain faculty member desired. The name of this article was, "How to Read Like a Man."
This is where our problems began.
Because really, that's hilarious. At least she and I thought so. But it wasn't enough to chuckle at the title, no sir. We decided that we needed to try this for ourselves.
We spent the next few minutes talking in "man voices." Yeah, we're that awesome.
You're waiting for problems. Here they come.
We're standing in front of the elevator, when we hear voices. Not from the elevator. Not from the stacks. From behind us. From inside and/or beyond the vent in the wall we were standing against. We clearly heard women's voices, so, clearly, the best decision before me was to say, "Helllloooooo? Is anyone in there?" Into the vent. In a man voice.
Cue the elevator doors opening.
Naturally, said elevator was not empty.
The two men standing inside of it heard everything I did and saw me leaning over to the vent.
They didn't say anything. Or laugh. Or look weirded out.
They just judged.
My friend and I entered the elevator with the strange, unamused men, and cough-laughed until we reached our desired floor.
Dear women who live in the walls of Aldy, just stop. You're getting me into situations that require judgment far more often than normal.
Add some sass to your class,
Jenna
It is.
Wednesdays are generally my favorite days when working at the library because most of my shift is shared with a friend of mine. Yesterday, as usual, we ran out of things to do in the office. So our supervisor sent us to pull books in the stacks.
I love doing this.
There's no sarcasm here. I really do enjoy it.
There weren't that many we needed to pull, so we decided to go together. One of the first books we came across contained an article that a certain faculty member desired. The name of this article was, "How to Read Like a Man."
This is where our problems began.
Because really, that's hilarious. At least she and I thought so. But it wasn't enough to chuckle at the title, no sir. We decided that we needed to try this for ourselves.
We spent the next few minutes talking in "man voices." Yeah, we're that awesome.
You're waiting for problems. Here they come.
We're standing in front of the elevator, when we hear voices. Not from the elevator. Not from the stacks. From behind us. From inside and/or beyond the vent in the wall we were standing against. We clearly heard women's voices, so, clearly, the best decision before me was to say, "Helllloooooo? Is anyone in there?" Into the vent. In a man voice.
Cue the elevator doors opening.
Naturally, said elevator was not empty.
The two men standing inside of it heard everything I did and saw me leaning over to the vent.
They didn't say anything. Or laugh. Or look weirded out.
They just judged.
My friend and I entered the elevator with the strange, unamused men, and cough-laughed until we reached our desired floor.
Dear women who live in the walls of Aldy, just stop. You're getting me into situations that require judgment far more often than normal.
Add some sass to your class,
Jenna
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I Am Irrationally Irked by Inaccurate Blog Responses
There is an interesting dilemma before me.
For those of you who stalk me on the facebook (It's okay. You can admit it. There's no shame here.), you may have noticed that a certain friend of mine named Natasha wrote a response to one of my previous posts in her blog.
This is both
1. Flattering
2. Irksome (duh.)
First of all, I love this girl. I love her blog. She's my favorite kind of witty. If you have never read about her shenanigans before, shame on you.
Now, go read her post below. It will make my reaction make sense. Or, if you prefer the nonsense version of my writing, feel free to continue without reading her blog. Or go speak to me in real life. Absurdity at its finest right there.
Anyway.
Read:
http://ohmytash.blogspot.com/2011/11/add-some-sass-to-your-26-hour-day.html
For the sake of convenience, I have copied her list of things I would "actually" do. (She uses more festive colors than I do. I don't want to hear any complaining.)
1. Procrastinate doing hw for 2 extra hours
2. Learn how to play the shofar (for the sole purpose of blowing into it obnoxiously in the halls of Old Cabell as she runs to Hebrew class in the morning)
3. Get into situations too awkward to blog about
4. Procrastinate doing laundry and instead make a fort out of her socks
5. I'll give her #5, it's probably true
6. Procrastinate reading that other thing
7. Forget that she was there to go bowling, and start a flash mob in front of the shoe check-out counter.
8. Go on a date... with George Clooney (I figured I should be at least a little bit nice.)
9. Go on a hike, and plant a flag on the top of the mountain that says "IT'S JUST WRONG, STUPID AND AWKWARD NOT TO USE THE OXFORD COMMA"
10. By "jam with musical friends," she really means pulling a Kanye West at a Justin Bieber concert. "Imma let you finish, JB, but Natasha Oladokun is the best blogger of all time!" :D (ok... maybe that one was a stretch. But I couldn't resist. :D)
11. She already has an intense arsenal of puns at her disposal, so I have no idea what she's talking about there.
The response to the response:
1. Duh. My list was of things I could do in a 26 hour day. Not what I would actually do. (Proven by the existence of my original #8.)
2. All I can say is that she knows me well enough to realize that I would still always be running late to Hebrew, even with two extra hours in my day.
3. Have you read my blog? I'm pretty sure there's no shame here.
4. I think she means LEARN to make a fort out of socks. Because that would really be impressive. Especially considering how few socks I have.
5. Good concession. (Ha. Concession. Like concessions. As in food. Fitting.)
6. I'll give her that one.
7. Clearly, I would do both.
8. I don't need two extra hours to go on dates with George (yes, first name basis.) We go on biweekly dates already actually.
9. THIS IS WHERE MY CAREFUL REPUDIATION OF HER LIST ENDS.
Natasha.
"IT'S JUST WRONG, STUPID AND AWKWARD NOT TO USE THE OXFORD COMMA."
THERE IS NO OXFORD COMMA IN THAT STATEMENT. SUCH PHRASING WOULD NEVER, EVER BE ON A FLAG I CREATED BECAUSE I WILL ALWAYS LOVE AND SUPPORT SAID MARK OF PUNCTUATION.
To quote someone sassy and gay,
what,
what, (<Oh look at that. It's the Oxford Comma.)
WHAT
were you thinking?
Who needs a reality check now?
I don't even know if this is classy,
Jenna
Disclaimer: Natasha is one of my favorite people. And her blog is fabulous. Seriously. Check her out: http://ohmytash.blogspot.com/
For those of you who stalk me on the facebook (It's okay. You can admit it. There's no shame here.), you may have noticed that a certain friend of mine named Natasha wrote a response to one of my previous posts in her blog.
This is both
1. Flattering
2. Irksome (duh.)
First of all, I love this girl. I love her blog. She's my favorite kind of witty. If you have never read about her shenanigans before, shame on you.
Now, go read her post below. It will make my reaction make sense. Or, if you prefer the nonsense version of my writing, feel free to continue without reading her blog. Or go speak to me in real life. Absurdity at its finest right there.
Anyway.
Read:
http://ohmytash.blogspot.com/2011/11/add-some-sass-to-your-26-hour-day.html
For the sake of convenience, I have copied her list of things I would "actually" do. (She uses more festive colors than I do. I don't want to hear any complaining.)
What Jenna would really do in a 26 hour day:
2. Learn how to play the shofar (for the sole purpose of blowing into it obnoxiously in the halls of Old Cabell as she runs to Hebrew class in the morning)
3. Get into situations too awkward to blog about
4. Procrastinate doing laundry and instead make a fort out of her socks
5. I'll give her #5, it's probably true
6. Procrastinate reading that other thing
7. Forget that she was there to go bowling, and start a flash mob in front of the shoe check-out counter.
8. Go on a date... with George Clooney (I figured I should be at least a little bit nice.)
9. Go on a hike, and plant a flag on the top of the mountain that says "IT'S JUST WRONG, STUPID AND AWKWARD NOT TO USE THE OXFORD COMMA"
10. By "jam with musical friends," she really means pulling a Kanye West at a Justin Bieber concert. "Imma let you finish, JB, but Natasha Oladokun is the best blogger of all time!" :D (ok... maybe that one was a stretch. But I couldn't resist. :D)
11. She already has an intense arsenal of puns at her disposal, so I have no idea what she's talking about there.
The response to the response:
1. Duh. My list was of things I could do in a 26 hour day. Not what I would actually do. (Proven by the existence of my original #8.)
2. All I can say is that she knows me well enough to realize that I would still always be running late to Hebrew, even with two extra hours in my day.
3. Have you read my blog? I'm pretty sure there's no shame here.
4. I think she means LEARN to make a fort out of socks. Because that would really be impressive. Especially considering how few socks I have.
5. Good concession. (Ha. Concession. Like concessions. As in food. Fitting.)
6. I'll give her that one.
7. Clearly, I would do both.
8. I don't need two extra hours to go on dates with George (yes, first name basis.) We go on biweekly dates already actually.
9. THIS IS WHERE MY CAREFUL REPUDIATION OF HER LIST ENDS.
Natasha.
"IT'S JUST WRONG, STUPID AND AWKWARD NOT TO USE THE OXFORD COMMA."
THERE IS NO OXFORD COMMA IN THAT STATEMENT. SUCH PHRASING WOULD NEVER, EVER BE ON A FLAG I CREATED BECAUSE I WILL ALWAYS LOVE AND SUPPORT SAID MARK OF PUNCTUATION.
To quote someone sassy and gay,
what,
what, (<Oh look at that. It's the Oxford Comma.)
WHAT
were you thinking?
Who needs a reality check now?
I don't even know if this is classy,
Jenna
Disclaimer: Natasha is one of my favorite people. And her blog is fabulous. Seriously. Check her out: http://ohmytash.blogspot.com/
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