Wednesday, March 28, 2012

sPrING BrEaK!!

Hi-ho, everyone.

It's that magical time of year. Spring is in the air and all the cool kids are headed down to Panama City Beach or Miami or Stone Mountain, Georgia or whatevs whatevs. You know... the hot spots.

 I will not be going to those places. Those places sound like the worst. It is a hassle getting down there, AND I have to make sure that my body is in good enough shape that I don't weep a single tear when I put on a bikini? Yeah... no thank you. I will skip that swimsuit and instead continue eating entire boxes of Lucky Charms a-thank you very much. 


And there's something about the attitude in those places. It's just... how do I describe it? Everyone is trying to cram as much fun in at ALL TIMES because they don't want to be that one group of friends that isn't having as much fun as the other group of friends. 

Here's the dialogue I imagine:

"Great Scott, does that group have a beach ball? Andre! Get me a beach ball, immediately! He's putting it under his shirt like he's pregnant. It's funny, because he's a guy! He can't have children. Andre do you get their joke?! They're having more fun than us. I can feel it. DAMMIT ANDRE. WHERE. IS. MY. BEACH. BALL."

I think I would be under a lot of pressure to have fun. 

I'm not saying that it isn't a fun time. It probably is. In fact, I'm sure it is. But I feel about "cool" spring breaks the same way I feel about raves, cooking things from scratch and ironing my clothes:

That's a lot of hassle. 

Instead! I am travelling to the Great White North. That's right. Canada. Quebec and Toronto, to be exact. I know what you're thinking, "Hannah, Canada is a pretty far drive too. And you're travelling internationally. Isn't THAT even more hassle than Florida?"

Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: Shut uppa yo' face.

In the words of Homer Simpson: "Canada? Why would I want to leave America just to visit AmericaJr.?"

Short answer: I don't know.
Long answer: Last name, beeswax. First name, none o' ya. 

I plan on looking fashionable and using my three phrases of French that I learned in Belgium. This is going to prove problematic BECAUSE:

I only wish my hair was long enough, because then I would wear it in the Canadian fashion.

Oh you better BELIEVE I would rock it. No one believes me that this is a hair trend. I will get photos. Then you'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE.

In conclusion,

Canada. Not just for Canadians anymore. 

Saturday, March 24, 2012

How to endure a long-distance relationship (kind of)

Man it has been a while since I've posted here. I've missed you, old bloggy. I'm done with my travels so I should be able to post more often. Right now I'm still catching up on work... so here's a half-thought out post that I wrote when I was strung out on caffeine and fiber. All I had eaten that day was two handfuls of chocolate-covered espresso beans and a box of those "Special K" cracker crisps. So... yeah. It's obviously well-written.

May I present:

Enduring a Long-Distance Relationship 101

I'm gonna level with you. I have no idea how to actually survive a long-distance relationship. These are just the things that I do. Or exaggerations of things that I wish I did. So to everyone who wants to end up like me (* crickets*) follow this advice precisely.

1) Drink cheap wine and go out with your roommate who also has a long distance boyfriend. Be sure to wear your cheetah coat.

This is an accurate representation of the cheetah coat. And for those who have never met me, this is also an accurate representation of my face and hair.

2) Buy a body pillow. Paint your significant other's face on it. Play love songs for him/her on the pan flute. 

*disclaimer: I haven't actually done this... yet*
**side note: Just noticed that James Franco is wearing Liz's spanks**

3) Plan a cute dinner date over skype and then end up eating frozen pizza together instead. Except you don't even eat it together because you foolishly forgot to put yours in the oven. So you end up eating frozen pizza at separate times. On camera.

4) Watch Sex in the City the movie and decide that you should start writing adorable love letters. Then decide that you can't be bothered and send him an email that has a photo of a cat attached.


I'm actually laughing. Alone. Staring at my mellophone. I might compose a song about this cat. 

5) Contemplate getting a dog.

6) Abandon the dog plan.

7) Contemplate getting a cat

8) Decide that you don't need a cat's judgmental eyes watching you while you spend hours looking for photos of Steve Martin as a young man.

you're welcome

9) Watch cute couples walk by and narrow your eyes, menacingly. How dare they hold hands. 

10) Convince yourself that you're funnier than Kristin Wiig & Maya Rudolf's bi-racial lovechild. Record yourself reciting a scene from Bridesmaids (The airplane scene, for those who are curious) and decide to send it to your significant other. 

Other exemplary Bridesmaids quotes that I like to say:
-"Oh you're from MILWAUKEE? Oh I'm sorry! oh. Oh! Ohhh."
-"This is my husband. You don't have a husband."
-"At first I didn't realize that it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad, hand-written book."

11) Realize that it's weird and delete the recording without sending it to your significant other. 

aaaaannnd that's all I got. These are all things I've done in the last few months. I want to hear your additions. Particularly if they are actually real.

Monday, March 5, 2012

The way I remember my childhood

I kind of wish that I had kept a diary as a kid. It's not that I didn't try. I actually probably have about 50 diaries kicking around somewhere. I never committed, so each notebook has about once entry. So... congratulations to whoever discovers the non-chronological ruminations of a 12-year-old.

The one time I actually did discover one of my journals, it was rather embarrassing. Inside, I listed which boys probably liked me but I totally didn't like them. Then I had another column of boys I liked but didn't like me. THEN I had a list of boys that were cute but were also mean.

After discovering that journal I decided not to look for the others. I also decided that I better not have signed my name to any of the entries. Then I could blame the embarrassing ones on my sisters. I'm fairly certain they both kept regular diaries. Katie's had a lock. I so desperately wanted to open that lock... so I could read about all the boys she liked.

I somehow got WAYYY off subject here. Reel it in, Hannah.

So I decided to write down a couple of childhood memories, the way I pictured them as a kid. That way, when I'm old and wrinkly I can look back on the ol' blog and remember. (This is of course assuming that blogs are perfect and shall never be replaced by superior technology)

Without further ado...


1) Dads terrified me (except my own)
I was terrified of almost every single one of my friend's dads. I have no idea why. Looking back, they were never mean or intimidating, just normal dads. Lately this has been the subject of much deliberation between me and my siblings. All of us were particularly afraid of an old family friend's dad. Lets call him: Mr. Eeman. (GET IT?! Mr. Eeman? Sound it out... MYSTERY MAN!! I'm hilarious.)

We all recently ran into this Mr. Eeman at a bar. We hadn't seen him in about 15 years.Turns out, he's about 2 inches shorter than me and about 15 pounds lighter. And that's being pretty generous to me. Why was I scared of him as a child? Personally, I think it's because he had a raspy voice. It threw me off, man.

As a kid, when I looked at him, I imagined this:

Which brings me to a terrifying memory that happened when I was about 7. I was over at a friend's house (different friend, different dad) and we ran outside to play with... bubbles. Or something. I don't really know what 7 year olds play with. I was the last one out and I left the door open and their dog ran outside. To my memory, her dad was really mad about it, and it haunted me forever.

What probably happened:
Her dad walked by and calmly said something along the lines of "Hannah make sure you shut the door or our dog runs away"

What I remember happening:
Her dad walked by and said, "HOW DARE YOU STEP INSIDE OF MY HOUSE AND LEAVE MY DOOR OPEN?! I shall now summon Poseidon, god of the ocean, and he shall flood the ground on which you stand, dragging you to the depths of the sea!!!"

Tears were shed that day, my friends. Tears.

2) The time when my mom took me bra shopping for the first time
All I remember about my early bras is that I got by for about a year wearing my sisters's old sports bras. Which is disgusting, really.

Then one day my mom took me to Kohls to buy me a real bra. I was probably... 10? 11?

What probably happened:
My mom said calmly and quietly,  "Hannah what kind of bra do you want? More sports bras? Or one with more support?"

What I remember happening:
 My mom shouted from the rooftop, "Good LORD Hannah look at how simply ADORABLE these brassieres are! Do you have such cumbersome breasts that you need these bras already?! LETS GET A GREEN ONE! Oh look a cute boy! Lets invite him over to help you pick out underwear!"

3) My fashion
I thought I was the height of fashion. Looking back at old school photos, I was incorrect. In every school photo from age 5 to age 9 I wore a variation of this dress, with a variation of this hair.

If you're wondering what's going on with my hair in the back, I would guess... braid.

4) The opening scene to every Disney movie ever

This opening logo scared the ever-loving crap out of me. Why? I don't know. There is literally nothing to be afraid of. It's a castle. The music is a little creepy, I will admit. But still.

I would hide my face in couch cushions, behind people's backs, anything to get away from the scary castle. And the terrible part was... you couldn't avoid it! It started EVERY. DARN.  DISNEY MOVIE. And this was back in the VHS days so once you rewound a movie you just pressed play and watched the magic. There was no time for fast-forwarding!

Speaking of terrifying Disney-related things...

5) That scene from Fantasia
I can't be the only person who remembers that this scene was NOT whimsical, but rather terrifying.


There is nothing redeeming about this entire clip. Like.. even at the end it doesn't resolve itself. The sorcerer just gets mad. In fact, he looks a lot like what I imagined my friend's dads looked like when they were mad.

And Mickey is me:

And thus, my childhood memories come full circle.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Al Ott

I hope you've all heard of the awesome blog called Hyperbole and a Half. The writer, Allie Brosh, chronicles her life through drawings and it sometimes causes me to cry from laughter. 

czech out this bad boy if you want a good post to start with. Actually, read that post regardless because it's what I'm basing the rest of my post on. 

I will wait.


summary of the Hyperbole and a Half post if you're too lazy to click: People misspell the phrase "a lot" and often spell it "alot." In her post, Allie imagines that there is such a creature as the mysterious "alot" that people are referring to. This is it:

courtesy Hyperbole and a Half

SHMANYWAY.  I was surfing the internets at my internship the other day, and I stumbled across something glorious. My internship requires that I know a lot of information about Wisconsin politics, like state representatives and county board supervisors. SO:

Has anyone else discovered that Wisconsin has a State Representative named Al Ott
Yes indeed. Al Ott, Republican representative for the 3rd district of Wisconsin.  

Oh, Al. 

I know nothing of his policies so I apologize if he's a seal-hunting, flag-burning, Meryl Streep-hating stink face. I'm not endorsing the dude, I'm just saying that his name is awesome. 

Why is his name so awesome? Because I imagined his face on the body of the alot creature. Then it would be an Al Ott alot. And I loved this idea so much that I immediately saved his photo, rushed to the nearest computer with photoshop, and created this:

I'm DYING. I'm positive that this isn't that funny to other people, but I am actually dying. I think it's his face. Al Ott looks like he really enjoys being an alot. I avoided applications for this. 

Time well spent.