For those who had no idea, I'm a STEM major (not kidding). I love science like you wouldn't believe, but let's face it- I'm not down with 20 hour labs and trips to the observatory every single weekend. My professor was awesome and I happen to look great in lab coats, but that is clearly not enough to pursue a PhD in that field. I was starting to get burned out on school. I was getting depressed. I needed to make a change ASAP. I put on my jet pack, strapped on some moon boots, and took off [to the Art Building].
I had already taken fashion design years before cause I had nothing better to do, but it was not really my passion. Now that I was back to get a get a degree in Something Important, I chose the sciences. Never one to be "all work and no play", I started taking fashion classes on the side. Eventually it became my refuge. It was a place where the only String Theory I had to worry about was the property of yarn, the only Cosmos on my mind were the drinks after class, and the only time I needed to think about "the Future of Space" was when I discussed my fashion icon Judy Jetson.
While most of the assholes in my classes want to be Duhziners, I'm interested in the nerdier route-- Costume Historian. I had no idea this job even existed but I fell in love right away. It is the perfect balance of Party and Business. It has the word "Costume" [fun] and "Historian" [serious] in it, so it's like a mullet, but socially acceptable. I marched down to admissions and contemplated making the switch completely. I'm not gonna tell yall what school I go to cause I don't need any Fatal Attractions waiting for me behind dress forms. What I will tell you though, is that this is the best school to have chosen for the second round of my College Career. The bad part is, there is tons of clueless riffraff in my classes.
While I'm not there to be a Judge Judy, sometimes it really pisses me off when I get stuck with the bottom of the barrel in a group project. There is a grown ass girl in my class with a fucking plastic KAZAAM backpack. Why?! I hate when people try to be "ironic", it is so unnecessary and just makes them look like douchebags. I'm over here trying to answer the bonus questions and it's kinda hard to concentrate with Shaq in a genie costume staring at me.
Then of course there is the jerk in head to toe Victoria's Secret PINK sweat suits. I am mad that this girl thinks it's acceptable to leave her haus in this shit. I am also tired of the Urban Outfitters losers, like who buy that raggedy ass clothes? It's garbage. Look, I'm not a style icon in the making, but I wouldn't wear a backpack... period. I wouldn't have let those sweats leave the mall. I wouldn't wear shoes that look like they were salvaged from the Titanic wreckage. If I were the Fashion Police, I'd sentence them to DEATH ROW.
It's just a mess. I'm not a hater, I can give credit where it is due... even if it's "not my thing" and it's something I "wouldn't be caught dead in". The bottom line is if you're gonna dress ugly, at least know what you're talking about and stop wasting everyone's time. I wanna be surrounded with people who "get it" and aren't glued to American Vogue, people who don't consider Katy Perry a fashion luminary, and people who don't think Schiaparelli is a type of fucking pasta. Is that too much to ask?
So as you all know, I'm sort of a Grade A Dynamo. I have this stupid sense of adventure that just can't be contained. I am at my happiest when I'm in the air, exploring new places, and generally being a worldly individual. At this point in my life, it's pretty safe to say traveling is a passion of mine. I will book a flight for no fucking reason and figure out what to do later. I'm all walk and no talk, if you catch my drift. I'm also ridiculously fiscally irresponsible, but I'm not in debt cause I don't possess any credit cards. Anyway, after making sure my carbon footprint grew to the size of Texas via flyer miles last year, I decided to give nature a break. I put my passport away, deleted Travelocity from my bookmarks, and stopped visiting my favorite travel forum. I said I'd be more responsible, maybe even get a real job. I said I'd stay home on weeknights, actually do my homework, and be a prim 24 year old. I said a lot of things, dear readers, but I LIED.
It had only been about 2 months into the year when I started feeling "down in the dumps". Every time I stumbled over my deflated suitcase, I felt the skies darken just a bit more. I tried to ease the transition, to no avail. What did it matter if I'd put an over the top chandelier in my room? What did it matter if I had a brand new TV? What did it matter if my room was the baddest goth cave in existence? It was just kinda like... want thingamabobs? I've got twenty. But who cares? No big deal... I WANT MORE! (Ariel, 1989). I missed the excitement of planning for a trip. I missed having my boobs felt up by TSA agents. I missed having crippling jet lag. I missed the Real Me.
And then it happened. It was an unusually hot day in Southern California and I was talking to my girl BFF about how great it would be to lounge at the beach with a frosty drink in our paws. Our birthdays are exactly 2 weeks apart and in the nearly 7 years that we have been friends, we've only celebrated our birthdays together ONCE. Those were the days... we were single and carefree. Well guess what? The stars aligned. It was time to wild the fuck out. Shit is popping off abroad, so we ruled out any international travel. We were kind of in a birthday rut, seeing as we didn't wanna go to Vegas aka the ultimate HAS BEEN of all destinations. We had an epiphany. Who needed a frosty drink on a beach when we could go to PARADISE?! So we did what any [fabulous] assholes with disposable income would do. We booked a trip to Hawaii.
I can't believe I have never been to Hawaii! I've flown over it, of course, but it never crossed my mind as a place to actually vacation. She is a major girl who likes to be pampered and I am a menace who prefers explosions. We are hitting up spas & Pearl Harbor to fulfill our differences, but we still needed an activity that would be mutually enjoyable. We needed a common ground. A quick google search led me to the answer. Two words: SCUBA DIVING!
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Scuba Diving is actually kinda chic. It's sort of like being an underwater Astronaut aka the most kick ass occupation imaginable. What's more, you also get to see real life ship wrecks and marine life in the ultimate HD as it is literally in your face. There is also the whole getting eaten by a shark thing which is kinda glamorous and exotic if you think about it. Guys, I am terrified of the ocean cause there are so many creepy ORGANISMS down there that I do not wanna play with. I refuse to get punked, so it's exactly the reason I am gonna do it. It is snatching me out of my comfort zone and dragging me down to the mysterious and murky depths of the goddamn Pacific Ocean! How balls to the wall is that? We are both Cancers so you know water is our natural habitat. It's probably destiny. I hope the Kraken, the Flying Dutchman, or stupid old Flotsam & Jetsam don't terrorize us. Here's to a very safe DEEP SEA EXPEDITION! Cross your fingers so I can find a sweet dinglehopper to show yall!
Six weeks til Hawaii!
You know those nights when you come home drunk after doing hoodrat stuff with your friends? Like you still have a tiny bit of party left in you, so you can't go to sleep and instead reach for the remote? If you're anything like me, you start to channel surf and get excited when you see that Family Matters is on! Hellll yeah. Urkel is gonna fuck something up. Eddie is gonna get into some really deep shit. Carl is gonna be so pissed! YES! Maybe if you are lucky it will be one of the Stefan Urquelle episodes or if you're even luckier- one of the crossover ones!
But wait- oh god, no. You sat down on your bed with dinner leftovers, half undressed, still buzzing like bees expecting to laugh and instead you find yourself bawling while that corny dramatic music plays. They've sprung a Serious Episode on you. Fuck!
Hasn't this happened to us all? It always seems to be when you are at your most inebriated, too. You want to watch Fresh Prince, but it's the episode where Carlton wants to buy a fucking gun or the one where they get caught up for Driving While Black. No short jokes about Carlton, no Jazz getting thrown out of the haus, no Uncle Phil flipping out. Just tears. Damn.
Maybe you wanna watch Full Haus! Oh wait... it's the episode where DJ has an eating disorder or the one where DJ and Kimmy Gibbler get trashed at a frat party and at the end they reveal that their Mom was actually killed by a drunk driver. How rude!
Why you gotta do us like that, ABC Family? You too, Nick at Night! You came here for fun! You just wanted to re-live the unrivaled block of programming that was TGIF. Instead, things got heavy... a little too heavy, if you ask me. I don't know whose idea this was, but I feel that they should leave the serious episodes for more appropriate times... like 7 in the morning when I'm still asleep, you know? That way I (and everyone else with a life) can be better equipped at handling that emotional trauma. Like damn, did they really just jump Laura Winslow for her jacket? I can't! Let's just keep it light, okay?
