Confessions: Irrational Thought Processes

I come from a long line of overreactors/worriers. Recently my mom was convinced that some band of no-gooders had rented a building and disguised it as the post office purely to steal the checks she had sent to the IRS that day. My sister saw a special on tv the other night about a certain brand of faulty tire that would explode on the freeway and kill people. I soon thereafter received a panick-stricken phone message demanding to know what brand of tire was on my car. When we were growing up my dad would freak out if he ever saw us playing with rope or plastic bags because we could choke or suffocate ourselves. This theory of course is plausible for toddlers, but we were warned into high school years to be careful. As much as this behavior seems rediculous and irrational I find that I too am following in their footsteps against my better judgement. Here is a small list of some of my most recent irrational behavior...

1. On a recent trip to Hawaii I stepped on a sea urchin in the ocean and was stung on my toe. My first train of thought was not the more likely sea urchin option, but rather that terrorists had planted a syringe containing biological warfare in the ocean and that my toe now held the ebola virus. I'm not even joking, in fact I wish I was.

2. Lately when I drive on the freeway or around town I will periodically drive over small debris from other cars on the road. It makes that tinkling metal sound on the bottom of my car. When I hear that sound I instantly assume that my car is falling apart from underneath. Before I can stop the irrational thought process, my mind is picturing my engine and radiator flying down the road and I feel the anxious pit in my stomach as I expect the car to fall apart with me inside at any moment.

3. On the subject of my car, my air conditioning was making this weird flapping noise. I was beginning to figure out how much money a new air conditioning system would cost when all of a sudden a little leaf blew out of the air vent. Noise is now gone.

4. My most recent overreaction happened this very afternoon. I traditionally stop off at KFC on tuesdays and order 2 crispy KFC snackers before I start work because I am starving and they are the perfect size to tide me over till dinner. Today as I was handed my yum yums through the drive through window I felt this sticky substance on my hand. I couldn't see what it was because I was driving, but later as I was eating my snackers I noticed this thick red subtance on the inside of the wrapper and on some lettuce in my sandwich. I instantly felt sick in my tummy because it had to be blood from some worker's sicko cut up finger. Is it possible to contact AIDS from ingesting some dirty KFC worker's blood? All that I had been taught about tolerance and safety went out the window as I began to picture myself as one of the characters of Rent. Upon further inspection the gooey red subtance turned out to be baked beans sauce. Silly me.

Stupid Things I've Done Part 1

Sometimes when I am driving along the many freeways of Phoenix, I start to think about my life and all of the dumb things I have done. Lately I have had extra amounts of time to think because the cd player in my car is broken again and I can't stand listening to Delilah on Sad FM anymore. In my spare time I've been able to compile a list of all the stupid things I have done, here is one of many examples...

When I was a junior in high school some of the cool seniors on my water polo team formed an intramural basketball team that played at the high school a few nights a week. One day at swim practice I was desperately trying to think of something cool to talk about to one of the Irvine Twins (cool seniors) so I told him that I was a star basketball player in middle school. Well I may have been good back then before everyone else's growth spurts (At 5'2" I was one of the tallest girls on the team) but now everyone had caught up and surpassed my heighth. The Irvine Twin somehow overlooked my small stature and invited me to play on their intramural team. I immediately knew that I had done something very bad.
At this point in my narrative I should tell you how I was by far the worst person on the team, that I stunk so bad that I didn't make one point, how they were all cursing at me by the end of the game and that would round off this particular example of my life's stupidity, but no, that night holds a far more stupid event.

After the game was over it was very late. I walked out to the empty parking lot where my 84 blue oldsmobile was parked and got in. Our high school parking was very deceiving because all the parking spots were divided by those cement parking dividers except the first row in which you were free to drive forward through the spot. As I got into my car I was distracted by my poor showing that night and did not notice that I was not parked in the first row of spots. I started the car and began to pull through the spot, as I drove forward I noticed the Irvine Twin walking out so I began to wave at him to show that I felt no hard feelings for the obscenities he had hurled at me earlier. As I lifted my hand the car lurched forward and upward and I realized that I was perched on top of the divider. It was a moment of great decision, what should I do? Reverse and get off the divider would be the logical thing to do, but no I decided to follow my life's embarrassing moment mantra--Pretend That Nothing Happened. I just gunned the engine and kept on going like I meant to do a little four-wheeling in my blue oldsmobile in the parking lot of Henry D. Sheldon high school. Why not? I could be crazy like those guys that pull cookies in the snow. I was impulsive, wild and living life on the edge! I drove that old blue car over the divider like it was the most normal thing to do in the world rather than totally dumb. It may have been stupid, but I had to save face in front of the Irvine Twin! That night I drove over the divider and off into the moonlight leaving behind a stunned Irvine Twin and probably my muffler, but at least I had my pride...er something...

10 Things I Hate About Julia Stiles

In an attempt to procrastinate a 12-page research paper that is due tomorrow, I have been inspired to write a new blog (Seeing as I have already shopped for digital cameras on overstock.com, IMed, checked my email, eaten an oreo and located my lost phone under a pile of clothes in my bedroom). Throughout my entire education I have detested writing research papers. It takes me forever. Its not the research that I hate, its the writing. I hate describing music with words. Its so annoying. I really suck at it. In fact I think I have only received one A on a paper in all my years of higher education, and it was really a gift from God not because of any skill on my behalf. Perhaps my teachers were feeling sorry for me at that point, I really don't know...
As much as I hate research papers, there is something I hate much much much more...or should I say someone...
Her name... I hate to even type it because an ugly scowl as come across my face and I'm sure I look very mean right now...
is Julia Stiles.
bleh.
double bleh
bleh with a little bleh on the side and then some bleh for dessert.
WHY IS SHE FAMOUS???!!!!

Here is a small list of reasons why I think Julia Stiles should not be famous:

1)The one that comes searing into my mind with bells and whistles attached is "SHE CAN'T ACT!!!" If anyone has ever seen her movies they will agree with me that she plays the same blah character in every movie despite her different roles. She is always this bratty white girl with a too-cool-for school attitude even if her character is not supposed to be that way.

2)She has no charisma. She is so blah on screen, she bores me. Even in romantic comedies where she is supposed to be charming in some way, so a hot guy will fall for her, she is totally unbelievable. I am always embarrassed for the guy that has to pretend to like her in some way because she is totally unlikable.

3)She can't dance. Anyone who has seen Save the Last Dance can agree with me. She all of a sudden can sway back in forth to a hip hop beat and now she is an honorary black girl in the hood and can get into Julliard? Totally unbelievable. P.S. she has buffalo legs. I almost threw up every time they zoomed in on her feet dancing. (For a real dance movie please watch Centerstage. Despite the poor acting, these people can actually dance and Charlie is a adorable)

4)I'm not done with the bad dancing comment. The other day I rented the Prince and Me (I think I was feeling a little self-masocistic or something). There is a scene in which Julia is cleaning up the restaurant where she and the prince of Denmark work and she takes off her shoes (Buffalo Legs Part 2: again the vomit was close) and is dancing along to some song while she cleans. Said Prince is watching and somehow despite B.L. and horrendous dancing falls inlove with her and takes her back to be queen of Denmark. Not only do I feel bad for the kind people of Denmark, but for myself that I have wasted precious time (time that should be used to write research papers) watching the disaster of Julia Stiles dancing with her eyes closed.

5)The Bourne Identity. Why is she in this movie? The only reason my eyes should ever be ripped away from Matt Damon is for treats or other attractive men, not J.S. looking very dowdy and uttering meaningless lines in a blah manner.

6)I hate to say it but...she is super unattractive. I know that this is a low blow, but she has a super round head, flat face and we are all thinking it...the weirdest smile know to man. It is all lopsided and squinty. She does have a hot body, I will give her that...

7)Did I mention Save the Last Dance?

8)Her voice is slightly lesbian-ish. No offense to lesbians, in fact I'm sorry that they have to be associated with Julia Styles in any way.

9)She is coming out with a new movie called Carolina where she plays a character named Carolina. Up until this point my sister, who shares a similar hatred for J.S.(her hatred is not as intense as mine because she is nicer than me), wanted to name one of her daughters Carolina, but now will be forced to abandon the cute name. It will always be tainted now. Thanks a lot Julia!

I hope that in some small way I have hurt the career of Julia Stiles, or at least shed some negative light on it. If I have done even a small bit of bad than my work here is done. I fear however that my work on my research paper is just beginning...maybe I will go eat another oreo...mmmm.

Hierarchy of Treats

Ok I know what you are thinking...enough of the treats already! I understand but this is more research based and it is something that I have pondered over many years...In my mind there is a hierarchy of treats for instance if you were given the following categories of treats in which order would you choose to eat them?
In no particular order:
Cake
Ice cream
Pie
Cookies
Chocolates
Candy (like gummies etc.)
Pastries
Brownies

ps. all of these are the very top make of their field i.e. the best cookies you ever ate ect...
Here is my own preference:
Cake (of course)
Candy
Cookies
Brownies
Chocolates
Pastries
Ice cream
Pie

I'm curious to see what you will all say...feel free to leave your personal hierarchy of treats. If you don't want to comment on the blog email me, its in the name of research!

I heart Valentine's Day

Every year February 14th rolls around and I hear the same old blah-dom: Beloved Valentine's Day is turned into the cynical SAD, Single's Awareness Day. I really don't understand this sentiment because honestly listen people: Its a day of free CANDY! There is nothing sad about that at all. Sometimes my mom even bakes me her famous valentine's sugar cookies (very fat and soft with lots of homemade icing) and, I am happy to inform you all, that this year she has promised to abandon her trade embargo with sugar and is making me a heart-shaped CAKE! Yippee!! However lest you think that all I think about is treats(mmmm...that brownie I had at lunch today was very delish) I am going to tell you a truly sad valentine's tale...
It occurred a few Valentine's days ago...I had just found out that an exboyfriend, for whom I still had lingering feelings, was now seriously dating a new girl who we shall call...Pig Girl. My little brother had also just broken up with his girlfriend the week before and was in serious sheer desperadoes. On the morning of Love Day I thought that I would be a sweet older sister and give my lil bro a call. Perhaps we could combat our broken hearts by finding joy in the sibling bond? I suggested that we could be each other's valentines because of our similar sad positions to which he heartily agreed. It made me feel better that no matter what sort of pig love was brewing in the big pig pen of life I could always count on my cute little brother to be there for me...
Sadly enough I found out from my sister a week later that Bryce had made amends with his girlfriend the night before and felt too sorry for me to tell me the truth...
Oh well, did I mention that I'm getting a heart-shaped cake?! Yippee!

I'm in the Army Now

Lately my life has been consumed by one giant, annoying, stressful thing:

I'm joining the army

Ok not yet, but about 2 months ago I sent an audition cd to the Army Field Band and about a month ago I received a packet of music in the mail and a letter from some high ranking official telling me that the army would like me to come to Washington D.C. and participate in the final round of the audition. If I win, I join the army.
At first I was elated, but I soon realized that this was going to be a ton of work. So my Christmas break, although very fun especially the Chrimbo Hols at Christopher's house, has been shadowed by the black cloud entitled...
Practice

more practice
never-ending practice
practice until I want to throw my flute against the wall
crying
then some bad self esteem followed by a few anxiety attacks and then considerable thought on change of career
followed by

practice...

I could probably write an entire book about the emotional distress that a professional musician endures but alas this blog is about something way more bizarre...
The Army Physical
Part of the audition process is I must be eligible to join the army. This entails me getting up at 4:30 am and driving down to the army enlistment building to endure hours of humiliating poking and prodding.
I would just like to let the world know a little of what a person must endure to go over and shoot terrorists in Iraq.
Here are some highlights...
1. You must sit in a big room and be yelled at while filling out your medical history. They ask you if you have ever had any medical problem ever. Not only once, but at least three times in at least three different ways. They then give you an entire power point presentation on how if you lie about your medical history the army will send you to jail, take all your money and you can only work at McDonalds for the rest of your life. I am not exaggerating at all. I personally was asked in front of 50 people by a large black woman when my last PAP smear was and if it was abnormal. yikes.

2. You must pee in a cup. Now you may be thinking that everyone has to do that at one point or another, however in the army an officer, and in my case a woman that certainly must be named Helga, watches you pee in that cup. My steroid-taking Helga friend ushered me into the pee room and ordered that I pull my pants down around my ankles. It is easier to pee that way, she informed me. I found that this easy-pee technique really only helped me feel more vulnerable and exposed. I managed to elude stage fright by trying to focus on not peeing on my hand and imagining a world with lots of waterfalls and unlimited privacy.

3. The highlight of the day however was when I was ordered to strip down to my bra and underwear to perform calisthenics in front of a room full of other naked girls and a doctor. These were not just ordinary jumping jacks, which would be humiliating enough, but rather a series of squats and kicks. I have proven to be particularly bad at squatting in my skivies. My shining moment came with the infamous "Duck Walk". For those of you who have never heard of it, it is a torture device where you must spread your legs, then squat down in a caveman-like position with your arms in between you knees and walk forward heel-to-toe. Its very awkward, and its even worse when Helga keeps yelling at you to get your bum-oley lower and lower. I became the target of her tirade as I lost my balance and kept having to touch the floor. Two overwhelming thoughts came to my mind at that moment, the first being sympathy for the girl squatting directly behind me and the second the stark realization that I would never make it through boot camp.

At the end of my 5 hour physical the doctor pronounced me eligible to join the army (apparently my lack of duck talent isn't grounds for disqualification) and stamped my medical file. "The army wants you," is what he told me, but now I'm not so sure I want the army. Although my morning was strange and uncomfortable it did give me a little insight into what it takes to be in the military. Whether or not I can do it is yet to be determined, but until then I'll just keep practicing...

p.s. I am very sorry for the disturbing mental images that may have entered your mind while reading this. If there are any lasting effects please let me know so I can send you some candy in the mail to make up for it.

Sugar Blues

Just a quick follow up on my latest blog...
I have since received a phone call from my mom. She recommended that I read one of her favorite books entitled Sugar Blues which apparently features an astonishing photo of a man who shares my vice with treats. It, of course, is a before and after photo of said man before and after he kicks his sweet tooth habit. According to my mom he looks roughly the equivalent of an puss-faced, sallow-cheeked, rotten-toothed excuse of a man before and post-treats becomes extremely good-looking. Its all due to sugar she informed me.
She also informed me that my acne, grumpy disposition and the strife in the middle east would all be solved if I stopped eating sugar. This is the same woman who suggested I duct tape a piece of garlic to a wart on my foot...
I promptly informed her that I would never read that book and that sugar is the best friend I have ever had, besides Christopher and Nancy, and I for one am not a fair-weathered friend...

Treats and Treats

In honor of the Christmas season, I would like to discuss one of my favorite topics: treats.

I love them, I am drawn to them, I give significant thought to how I can get more of them. Unfortunately for me, and this statement may seem sad, they are a big part of my life.
My obsession with treats started at a young age. I feel as if most of my childhood revolved around my conquest to get as much candy as possible. For instance, I remember being really small, probably about 4, and at the store with my mom. There was a huge bin full of those gelatin squares covered in sugar made by Brach's, I don't know if they make them anymore. I remember standing there and gazing at the delicious candy and asking myself, "Can I just take some?" I think my subconcious knew that it was bad, but the call of the sugar cane was too strong and I grabbed a grape gelatin square. I kept it hidden in my pocket until we got home. When we arrived, I ran straight to the guest bathroom, a place that would prove to be a haven for all my future criminal behavior. I felt that it was the one place in my house that I could not be discovered. I would later prematurely open one of my Christmas presents in the same guest bathroom. My mom of course recognized my suspicious behavior and tracked me down...
"Angela? What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing" (sounds of candy wrappers being crumpled and stashed)
"Open the door right now..."

And just like that, I became both thief and treat addict...

My love affair with sugar would continue throughout my childhood. It drove me to steal candy bars from my brother's school fundraiser, eat bakers chocolate straight, and sneak the halloween candy out of the bowl before the trick-or-treaters arrived. Unfortunately this theme still continues throughout my life...

One recent example occurred just a few weeks ago. Monday is my long day right now. I have school all day and then I have to teach about eight flute lessons, the last one ending at 8:30. About three weeks ago I was teaching and hadn't eaten all day. I was starving, which in the life of Angela means I am grumpy beyond reason. I had a short break before lessons, so I ran next door to the Walgreens to grab something to nibble on and subdue my villian alter ego.
I walked in and in a zombie-like trance was pulled into the candy aisle. A normal human being would buy just one thing to tide them over till they could eat protein,
but again the call of the sugar cane was too powerful...
I bought starbursts, red vines, and a caramello for dessert. I could barely make it to the car, where like a wild animal I ripped into the red vines. By the time I had reached my next lesson I had eaten an entire package of red vines and half of the starbursts. I was totally ill...and ashamed.

So as you can see I am a complete sweet tooth of magnificent proportions.
Yes world, I can eat an entire big piece of cheesecake, I love the big cadbury cream eggs at easter, and the more frosting the better.
You will never hear me utter those sad words: "This is too rich"
It simply is never too rich for me.
I guess you could think of me as a superhero of sorts. I cannot leap tall buildings in a single bound, but I can eat five s'mores in a row!
In conclusion, I would just like to wish you all a very Happy Christmas, may you eat all the treats you desire and find comfort knowing that somewhere there is a girl who on Christmas Eve is not only dreaming of sugar plums, but also pumpkin pie, doughnuts, eggnog, sugar cookies, cake...mmmm...cake...