I'll do it later...

Here I am again, with loads of homework, appointments to make, and other such things I have looming over my head.

So tonight was the night I decided to start writing a screenplay- good idea right?

Ok, I have been, and always will be a horrible procrastinator. Why the hell do you think I made this blog anyways? And I'm sure you've all heard the quotes, "Don't do today what you can put off until tomorrow." "Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday" and , my personal favorite, "procrastination is like masturbation, in the end your only screwing yourself."

Why do something now if theres at least an hour and a half before it's due? Why plan ahead and actually have a solid, cohesive, finished product, if you can just bullshit it in an hour?

I mean, I guess there are certain things that shouldn't be rushed or put off for too long....like surgery. Actually, that reminds me...I've needed to get screened for cancer for the past year or so...

But isn't it strange how when you have a looming task ahead of you, absolutely everything looks more appealing? For example, as I type this, I have a paper that I must write...but for some reason I would rather color-code my closet, bake cookies, watch reality tv shows, or facebook stalk for hours.

Let me interject- i started this blog on Sunday night...I decided to finish it now...

My problem is I always want to do something that I want to do. I don't want to study for midterms...I want to watch youtube videos. I don't want to go to the gym, I want to make hemp necklaces. But then again, I guess if I always did what I wanted to do my world would be filled with cookies and crochet. Anyways, I think I actually should cut this short...I really do have a midterm tomorrow...and Degrassi is on TV.

OOPS!

Peace,
Annie G.

Before you sit down...

There is a serious problem in this world.





People peeing on toilet seats.

For some reason, there is a majority of the world with serious aiming issues. I can't tell you how many times I have entered in a panic into a public (or even sometimes private) bathroom, and BOOM- there are droplets of human relief chillin on the porcelain.

I guess this whole rant sparked the other day when I went with my lovely friend Alex to Home Depot. Why we were there is still a mystery, but none the less, we traversed the pine filled isles until we found the lavatories. First we tried to go to the unisex bathroom, because I need moral support when I urinate. However, as I looked down upon the toilet seat and saw a sight that made me cringe. Stained yellow and shiny, the toilet seat had been a target for some urinarily challenged shopper.

Ok- so thats what you get from going unisex, I get that. So I ran to the ladies room to try my luck there. Now first of all, I was one of two women at Home Depot, so I figured that the restroom couldn't have been too bad. But I was wrong, very very wrong.

All but one of the stalls had been attacked by the whiz-ard. Some of them had gone above and beyond, having pieces of toilet paper glued by piss to the toilet seat. The entire scene made me queeze, but I thought about it.

Who in their right minds has that much difficulty taking a leak!! Is it a time issue? Are these seat pee-ers in such a rush that they can't even squat square enough to line up the flow? And if there is an unfortunate mishap, why don't you just quickly clean it up? I think this goes beyond me just being disgusted, I think it could possibly be a serious issue. And perhaps even further, this is a commentary on the laziness of the average consumer. You have all the time in the world to look at lighting fixtures, but not enough time to clean up after yourself? It's disgusting I say, pure ickiness.

In other news, they shot the satellite out of the sky, Kosovo declared independence from Serbia, and Castro stepped down from power in Cuba....but who cares about that shit when people are pissing all over the place!!!!!


Peace,
Annie G.

Ty-Rant

BAHAHAHAHAHA!

And it begins, I have already heard feedback about my new blog, keep it coming.

Blog is such a funny word, it sounds like it should be a piece of bloody wood....but it's not.

Now, for those of you who used to read my xanga journal- back in the angry days of highschool- you will recognize my angry form of social commentary I refer to as "ranting." Yes, I sure do love a good rant, and hopefully you do too!

Tomorrow, wednesday February 19th, is a very important day. Tomorrow is the premiere of America's Next Top Model Season 10. A momentous occassion indeed, and oh how I enjoy a good anorexicly skinny reality delight! But my rant is not about models, or objectifying women, or even about the evils of the media. Nay, today I want to tell you my feelings on....

TYRA BANKS!

I feel that I have had a personal relationship with Tyra. I remember back in the day, watching her strut her signature walk on TV- showing the world her fierceness. I remember watching her, and the pre-hab Lindsay Lohan in "Lifesize" (that wonder of a made-for-tv disney movie). I reveled in her bit part in "Coyote Ugly", and even thought she was all that in the first few seasons of ANTM. But then, things went horribly, horribly wrong. I knew the only way to express my feelings was in a letter.

Dear Tyra,

Tyra, I ask you, why have you let me down? Why have you turned a show about the trials and tribulations about women who would otherwise have been gangly and awkward if it wasn't for the demands of the fashion industry into a promo all about your sold out career? Why did you have to sink into the depths of hell after you were a Victoria's secret angel? I remember your picture in the Guiness Record book for modeling the most expensive diamond encrusted bra. Now, you have to beg for attention.

ANTM has been warped into a show where you have not only acquired a psychology degree, but constantly show girls up, because you prove yourself more fierce. Why not let them show their fierceness the way they see fit! Must you always correct their gaze, their pouts, their attitude?

I understand you have been modeling since you were 15 and must be well versed in the ways of reality (sarcasm), and I understand that you have you're own talk show that you wish was as classy as Oprah's, but since when did you recieve the same credentials for advice as Dr. Phil? Your advice is as cheap as your ever-changing weave, but for some reason, no one has doubted your authenticity?

These models look up to you! Don't you understand! How can you feed them this crap about not having confidence! I doubt someone vain enough to enter a nationally brodcasted modeling competition lacks confidence. The problem is you Tyra, you are a vacuum. You suck all their confidence up because you need more for yourself! Don't snap your fingers at me one second and then recite shakespeare to me the next! STOP CONFUSING AMERICA! You are nothing but a TyRANT!

I'm sorry Tyra, I can't do this anymore. Goodbye. Forever!

Well at least until tomorrow's premiere.

Hate,

Annie G.

Questions?

In the twisted vortex that I call mind, there exists a multitude of unanswered questions (along with other incomprehensible thoughts). Many of these questions I do not disclose, because hearing them aloud would merely confirm my insanity. However, few do get vocalized, usually at like 2 in the morning when I may or may not be under some influence and feel the need to have deep philisophical conversation. I have taken to writing some of these questions down. The list includes:
*What color is a mirror?
*Do people see colors differently, even though we all call things the same name?
*If you shave your arm hair, why does it grow back?
*Who thought of the first word, what was it, and is it still around?
*Who thought of drinking milk...who was like "let me squeeze that thing hanging off a cow and drink what comes out"
*Why were certain words created...like who thought up "door"?
*What language do we think in? Do we think in a language at all? Can deaf people think in a language?
*What do blind people see in their dreams?
*Why does pudding create a skin if it's left out too long?
*Wouldn't it be cool of wooly mammoths still existed?

Ok, that last one is just stream of conciousness. But for serious, if anyone has any answers, or even if you have another unanswered question, please comment or whatnot. I need to go put some deoderant on. That's all for now!

Peace,
Annie G.

First Blog...

Ok. So here's the deal.
I got bored again. Well, I often am bored, but this time I decided I would go back to the days of old (back in my xanga journal days) and start blogging again. I figured that my boring life could be written down for the world to see, so others like myself could compare their boredom and see how bored they really are. Who knows, maybe my boring life will prove to be more (or less) exciting than the way I perceive it now. Please, feel free to comment, no matter what you say just keep it honest, it's more interesting that way.

Anyways, for those of you reading this who do not know me, My name is Annie. Annie G, The G, G, and the cerebral assassin are other common nicknames. I'm in the middle of a beginning life crisis, and I'm in college. I'm one of those people that think they are in the real world already, but I'm sure I'll be slapped in the face in a few years when I graduate. I guess for the purpose of these blogs, you should know that I'm infamously weird and strange, I like awkward moments and unsure situations, and I'm slightly socially unacceptable. I can be a bitch, I'm pretty upfront about things, but deep down I do try and look for the good in people, and I try to look for both humor and insight in every situation.

But enough of that shit.

I also observe. This world is a fucked up place. Like yeah, there's war, and violence, and global warming, and other fucked up shit like that. But look right around you. This world is filled with randomosity, and stupidity, and hilarity, and other itys that provide for material worth talking, or ranting about. So if you decide to read my blog- or whatever this is- I dare you to keep eyes open to your surroundings, and the rest of what I have to say. The end. Bye.

Peace,
Annie G.