The Worst Crosswalk In The World, or How I Spent My Day

So I ventured out of the house alone today for the first time since I moved to Dallas. Yeah, I'm kind of a recluse. I was meeting up with friends at a coffee shop, which was a few blocks away from me. A few blocks... and the world's worst crosswalk. No joke. I have only crossed it twice before, and those times I had people with me. This time though, I was alone. And terrified.



See, I already have a fear of crossing the street. Paired with a fear of leaving the house alone. Paired with a fear of getting hit by cars. It's not nice. I'm kind of a mess.

Anyways, so this crosswalk. You come up to it, and there's no crosswalk button. Hmm.... Oh wait! There it is! ...On an island in the middle of the road.... with no white lines to safely guide you to it. Seriously, it's just floating out there with a bunch of unprotected space between you and it. You have to walk through the middle of the turning lane to get to it. The right lane, where people don't even LOOK.

So you get over there, and hit the button, and wait half your life to be let across. And then you have to cross more open, unprotected space to get back on the actual crosswalk to cross the street. And this is like, the LONGEST crosswalk. You can't actually cross it before the "Don't walk" sign comes back on. You have to run for your life to get to the next island. At least this one is attached to the crosswalk; a small miracle. But neither of these islands are even necessary. At all.
This is what the crosswalk should look like:




But instead it looks like this:



I barely made it there and back alive.

Anyways, when I showed up, I was early so I ordered my drink alone. Did I mention I have a fear of checking out or purchasing things alone? Yeah. So anyway, the Starbucks had apparently changed their ordering system, and all the baristas were still trying to figure out how to put in orders.




I finally got my drink and sat down to wait. Although, I probably should have paid more attention to my surroundings, because my friends were staring at me for a good minute before I noticed them. I felt very silly.

And then we all had a good time and then I endured the torture of the Worst Crosswalk Ever and now I'm here writing about it, because I'm really super cool.

Things I Do Instead of Blogging

I'll do pretty much anything to avoid something I feel obliged to do, even if it's something I actually want to do. I keep telling myself I need to come up with something interesting to write about on here, and then I put it off and instead choose to do any of the following:

1. Crochet


2. Read creepypasta or watch scary movies. Even though I really, really shouldn't.


3. Watch hockey on the laggiest laptop in the world.



4. Check my Google Reader every ten seconds for new lolcats, musthavecute, and this really awesome vintage blogger.


5. Facebook

6. Twitter

7. Tumblr

8. Spam my Love with incoherent babble.

9. Think really hard about blogging.

10. Not blog.


And yes, I did just make an entire blog about not blogging to distract you from the fact that I still haven't come up with anything interesting to blog about.

Things You Forget When You're Excited About Concerts

Photo Credit to Anna.

I don't know about everyone else, but I absolutely do not think about the downsides of concerts right up until they start rearing their ugly little heads. After all, it's going to be the best night of my life! What could possibly go wrong?



(FYI: Everything I'm about to post has happened to me at at least one of the many concerts I've been to. Maybe I just have bad luck.)

So you show up and, to your dismay, the building is already filled. You're so far back that you can't even see or hear the band.




You (or, in this case, my mother) get attacked by a half drunk woman who apparently thinks you are not walking up the stairs fast enough. Cat fight ensues.

Yay, you made it to front row! Wait a minute, now there are hundreds of people behind you. And all of them want to get closer. You know what this means?

Squish.

Some idiot decides it's the appropriate time to mosh. This is fine, I guess, if you're at a show with music that's good for moshing: loud, obnoxious, angry, etc. But is it ever appropriate to mosh to this? No. Stop that.

Another idiot decides to crowd surf. On your face.

God, you love this song! Oh, and this song! And the next! So you sing along. Loudly. And then you scream and clap. And you bounce, and you dance, and of course, sweat all over everyone while everyone sweats all over you. Ew.

You meet the band! ...And almost throw up and pass out on them from dehydration.

(Warped Tour '08- Thanks for the water, Jesse.)


And then the next day, regret hits you, when you look like this:



And you feel like you choked on razorblades and then proceeded to get yourself trampled by a bull.

Of course, let's not forget that your wallet looks like this after you hit the merch booth:



I would come up with more, but I'm kind of dying. I went to see Motion City Soundtrack play with A Great Big Pile Of Leaves, Saves The Day, and Say Anything a few nights ago, and of course, I over-exerted myself. I think I may even have caught something from some sick hipster. My throat is destroyed, my head is pounding, I can't tell if I'm warm or freezing, and my body feels like I got hit by a bus.
But it was totally worth it.


Photo Credit to Anna.


Photo Credit to Kari.

So there's that.

Cats > Dogs (And I'll Tell You Why)

Disclaimer: I am aware that it's a matter of personal preference and cannot be confirmed as a fact. I also love dogs, but I'm a cat-lady at heart. Don't hate me for preferring cats. Please? I love you. Now, moving on.

#1: Cats don't make ear-shattering wails at the first inkling of unidentified sound.


#2: You can say "cookie" without getting attacked.


#3: Cats show no shame when scolded, so you don't have to feel bad.


#4: It's less likely for your cats to destroy anything breakable.

#5: Most cats are small enough to fit comfortably in your lap. Too many dogs are not.


#6: (Indoor) Cats don't have to be let out at obscene hours.

#7: Cats don't need affection constantly.

#8: icanhascheezburger is generally far funnier than icanhasahotdog.

#9: It's far better to have five cats in a small home or apartment than to have five dogs.




#10: Cat noses are cute and pink and kissable. Dog noses are gross and cold and wet in the most awkward possible way.


So, there you have it.
And now it is 1:30 AM and I need to sleep.
Maybe.

Why I Hate Peacocks

Alright, so I promised I would talk about this.

When I was young, still in elementary school, and very very naive, I thought all animals were made of fluff and rainbows and happiness. This is not true.

Peacocks are pure evil.

I know this from experience. My mother and I were on a four hour road trip. It was one we went on fairly often, to visit family. So, we stopped at the usual halfway point- what barely passed as a town. It was a gas station, a restaurant, a market, and for some reason a carousel. Everything else was fields and, I'm assuming, houses amidst the trees.

Anyways, I get cheesy crackers of some sort in the gas station because OH MY GOD I NEVER GET TO EAT THESE. What a special treat! As I'm walking out, I see this large, majestic, absolutely stunningly beautiful bird. It was so beautiful, in fact, that I offered it a cracker. Because all animals are made of fluff and rainbows and happiness and there's no reason why I should exercise caution.

Wrong.

Next thing I know, this demon of a bird jumps at me, tail-feathers raised like a great, majestic battle flag.
I remember it went something like this.


No, I am not exaggerating. I ran for my life, as my mother laughed, a hollow, cold-hearted laugh. It was like my worst nightmare, with feathers. Eventually, I found my way back into the car and slammed the door shut. And my mother had the nerve to keep laughing. As if it wasn't the most traumatic moment of my life. I examined myself for peck wounds, and we moved on. But I never, ever forgot the horror of that day.

I am warning you now, with this story. Do not buy into those innocent little faces. Do not be fooled by the jewel-tone feathers of absolute beauty. It will result in disaster.

And above all, I've learned to never, ever share my crackers.

And in case anyone is wondering, yes I am using polyvore as an excuse not to make a real blog post. (:

So I saw a commercial on TV for a pro-infidelity website today, and it really pissed me off. Not just because it's pro-cheating, but also because I can't believe any channel would actually let that onto television. Seriously, you've gotta be a real greedy sleezeball to let that on TV just for a little extra money.

In other news, I hate the dog I dog-sit. Yet I keep doing it. For free. And I do not know why. And before you ask, I do actually love dogs, and most other animals (peacocks can suck my dick). This dog is just... brutal. Seriously. It's about as big as I am, and it thinks "no" and "down" and "stop" mean "play" and "trample" and "howl incessantly". I'd count the bruises I have from the last day or so, but I'd probably lose track.

Tune in next time for the story about why I hate peacocks.

Let's go

Let's go by laurenwithoutsound featuring denim shorts

On an adventureeeee.

Moarrrrr want.

Moarrrrr want. by laurenwithoutsound featuring butterfly bracelets

Mmmmmmm.

Do fucking want

Do fucking want by laurenwithoutsound featuring wool shorts

Oh yes please.

Everything is Modcloth except the shorts and makeup.

It's my birthday.

And I got a bunch of paintbrushes and paint to work with. I'm so excited! I will have to paint something to show on here. In the meantime, duck!



Yeah, I drew that.

Ohai.

So this is my blog, and yeah. I need to think of things to post.