Juggling, Answered Questions, Sexy Hands

I'm sitting in Theatre right now, a good ten minutes before class is supposed to start. There are about fifteen other early people scattered around the room, most of them on computers or zoning out. It's pretty normal. Oh yeah-- except for the blaring 90s punk music and the kid standing in the front of the room, juggling. He's clearly performing, but nobody is watching him. Not a soul seems to notice that there is music playing. And that a boy is juggling. Did somebody ask him to do party tricks before I got here? Are they also wondering what the hell is going on, but are just too nice to stare at him? I'm staring at him. I don't see how you could experience this and not be dumbfounded. He is juggling!

Anyway, it's much later now, and I'm writing this in the dark while Love Actually plays in the background for the third time this week. I sat down with the intention of writing at least 2,000 words on my NaNoWriMo novel, and have instead carried on a very long, very funny conversation with one Mr. John Green. He likes my novel's concept and says I'm a good writer. Teeheeheehee. Oh, and Michal just came over, so she's across the room, also writing, in the dark. Other than that, very little has been going on around these parts, so I've decided to use tonight's blog to address some comments from yesterday's entry.

Partyweetow writes: "I don't know how this could be, what with your burrito count always on the rise, but in that picture, it looks like you lost weight."

Well, for one, I am actually losing some weight, but it has nothing to do with my eating habits and everything to do with the fact that NaNoWriMo creates a kind of stress that can only be released through running. Also, it's not like I go out and eat three other square meals a day and THEN add a burrito on top.

Kelly writes: "I said you were one of my favorite authors/someone who inspires me to write in my NaNoWriMo profile. I mean it :)."

I am both incredibly flattered and incredibly worried for you. I've never published a book! You should be inspired by talented, accomplished people!

Tom writes: "Regarding the uncomfortable pinkness [of your new layout], it's the same as how I feel checking out Maureen Johnson books from the library. Or when I attempted to read Sloppy Firsts on an airplane, and my brother kept glancing at it, so I was trying to hide it, and he was like, 'You're really embarrassed of that Gossip Girl book, aren't you?'"

Yours was the most convincing argument I heard against my trial pink blog layout, because even I am embarrassed to be seen reading books with teenybopper chick lit covers. It's a shame when good novels are encased by pictures of teenage girls with their heads chopped off. I would never willingly wish the same fate for my blog.

Tenley Nadine writes: "Are any bloggers really professionals? I guess it depends on your definition of a professional."

If you make money doing something, you're a professional. Many people write formal blogs about their complicated areas of expertise, for which they get paid, so they are professionals. My area of expertise may be my own uninspired sense of humor, but so long as I receive even a slither of revenue from it, I figure I can call myself a professional if it makes my term paper sound more impressive.

Eff writes: "What's up with the shortness and Ihavenothingtowrite-ness in the latest posts? And I'm not digging the layout."

Well, I'm currently competing to write a novel in thirty days, so by the time I finish my homework and thousands of words of creative prose, I don't have a whole lot left in me. And as far as the layout is concerned, I cut down the girliness a smidgen, so hopefully you'll be over your lack of digging by the time you read this post.

Gina writes: "I love yours and Kristina's blogs, so it is very confusing to me that you both have friends named PJ. In my head, this is one person who does a lot of commuting. Just so you know."

Yeah, that's a bit of a problem. Maybe I should start calling mine "PJ the Boy." Also, you share a first name with my NaNoWriMo novel's protagonist. Trippy.

PamB writes: "You should make that wagon wheel in the background into a coffee table like in When Harry Met Sally."

I understood your movie reference way before I could find the wagon wheel in that picture. It was my uncle's house, and he lives far away, so I'm not terribly familiar with its decorations. But the next time I visit, I assure you, I'll ask him to make it into a coffee table and then yell about it.

Seurat2 writes: "I have decided to bet on Kristina winning the Chipotle war. Don't hate me."

I do not hate you, because I've enjoyed your comments in the past, but I can't lie and say Kristina and I didn't have a heated conversation about this comment. While the two of us have some kind of inexplicable need for constant competition, the recorded consumption of my favorite food was never intended to turn into a battle. First of all, my body type is significantly more suited to storing food than hers is, and second of all, I am positive that she doesn't love Chipotle as much as I do, because she doesn't discuss it half as frequently. I had not planned on gaining twenty pounds this month, but if that's what it takes to stake my permanent claim, I am willing to sacrifice myself for the cause.

Sexy: I've probably told you about this weird fascination of mine, but I am extremely attracted to hands. Particularly seeing big, masculine hands do gentle things, like untangle knots. Perhaps it's because men are unaware that girls are checking out their hands, so they can't put on a show about them, or primp them in some annoying, unattractive way. Hands are just natural and unpretentious.

Unsexy: The 10K Crisis, as I like to call it, when you get to the first NaNoWriMo milestone and suddenly want to throw your laptop out a window, pull out your hair, and cry. Michal's already deleted half of her work in frustration and has had to start over. I've been staring at the blinking cursor in the middle of page 34 for hours.

Chipotle burritos this year: 35

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,529

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Pointless Entry That You're Not Even Required to Acknowledge

Good evening, Blogosphere! I just finished writing my big, impressive term paper for TWQP's class, all about blogging, and how content creators can secure sources of income without making their readers want to stab them with flaming pitchforks. After citing such credible sources as "creative, popular professional blogger, Kristina Horner" and "revered author, Alan Lastufka" and using polysyllabic words to describe my life without an obvious bias, I'm about ready to start searching for one of those flaming pitchforks to take to my own face. That's what you get for waiting until the very last second to write an important paper: Irritability! And pitchforks! And FIRE!

Sorry. I'm obviously tired and making less and less sense the longer I type, but I couldn't stand the idea of writing about blogging while neglecting my own readers. However, instead of coming up with witty ways to make you care about my lame life, I'm loudly arguing with PJ (he's on the floor next to me) about whether or not Tumblr is stupid, whether or not Twitter is stupid, and whether or not any of it matters. Roomie just blatantly turned up the volume on the TV to drown us out.

Okay. This is a total and complete waste of time for all of us, so I'm going to stop pretending anything redeeming is going to come out of this entry and just post while I'm ahead. Before we part, take a second to admire my new layout. Taste its beauty. Then go over to PJ's youtube channel and thank him for making the banner. NOW LEAVE.

Sexy: This picture from the family pig roast I wrote about a few weeks ago:

That pig was a gentleman. Very respectful.

Unsexy: Singing my vlog opening to me. Yeah, I know. This is Hayley's Vlog. I get it. Let's move on with our lives, PJ.

Chipotle burritos this year: 35

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,499

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

He was a sk8r boi. She said, "See ya later, boy!"

Today, I:

--Got into a really fascinating discussion about William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying in my English class, and realized that I do, after all, love that book. I was skeptical in the beginning, pegging it as one of those "Omg, look how talented I am; I don't even need to use proper punctuation because it adds characterization and makes me look cutting-edge!" types, but now I understand. If you've read it, can you think of many things more beautiful and miserable than the analogy about Jewel's mother being a horse? Can you?

--Watched half a recording of Death of a Salesman in Theatre, and wondered why nobody warned me ahead of time that today would be Awesome Literature Day.

--Filled out an anonymous evaluation in TWQP's class, and answered the question, "How much effort did you put into this course?" with, "As far as work was concerned? Practically none. I did, however, devote many an hour and heaps of effort to staying awake during lectures."

--Talked to the lovely Michael Aranda on Skype.

--Had a plate of tofu fried rice and a bowl of ice cream, covered in whipped cream and other such deliciousness.

--Rented Love Actually, which I plan to use to distract myself from working on NaNoWriMo. I deserve a break, anyway, after the 8,000 words I wrote yesterday. Yeah. Eight. Thousand. Bitches.

Sexy: Love Actually, while we're on the subject. Nice work, Richard Curtis.

Unsexy: Dragging on dead relationships and clinging to comfort instead of moving on to better things. This may or may not be a specific reference to one of my friends, and she may or may not be standing next to me while I narrate what I type. I'm jus' sayin'.

Chipotle burritos this year: 35

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,460

Bye, guys! Hopefully I"ll see you tomorrow. <3

Chipotle > Nanowrimo > Halloween

This is what Court Street in Athens, Ohio looks like on Halloween. For one weekend every year, the population of an already big school more than doubles, and there's barely an inch of personal space in any direction. Once I'd finished my free Chipotle burrito (first and foremost, the most important day of the year, and by far the best part of Halloween), I head out with a group of friends to people-watch and try not to get knocked over by props.

My God-- I'd never seen so many creative outfits in my life. It was like a Lady Gaga clone convention. I had my picture taken with a guy wearing a paper-mache head to look like Hey Arnold, moved out of the way of a gaggle of cheering girls dressed up as a six pack of beer, and talked with a boy who was wearing a cardboard box with a hole through it, labeled BALLOON BOY. While not as recognizable as the boys in helmets with cups glued to the tops (Double Dare contestants) or as tantalizing as the girls in "sexy" versions of the Disney princess dresses, my homemade Bellatrix Lestrange costume held its own.

After perusing the streets for a couple of hours, I got a pretty bad stomach ache, which probably stemmed from the fact that I hadn't eaten before my burrito in hopes that I'd be able to save enough room to relive last year's disgusting triple-Chipotle fest. Bad plan. Instead, I suffered through one burrito and then felt like I was having a baby made of guacamole and black beans. Luckily (well... you know what I mean), Heather was also not feeling well, so, like total losers, we left the biggest, craziest party in the country really early to have Girly Giggle Time in her room. We popped a couple Pepto Bismol, laughed over a marathon of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, and got hyped up for NaNoWriMo. Heather and I counted eight separate ambulances rush past her room over the course of the night, people screamed and boozed and danced until all hours, and yet I worked on a novel until sunrise. Nerdfighters!

Speaking of NaNoWriMo, as of three in the afternoon on today, Day 1, I have nearly 7,000 words. I don't know if I've ever tirelessly written so much in such a short span of time, and I'm still going strong. My novel is about a thirteen-year-old girl named Gina, and it's one of those youthful insecurity stories that pretty much everyone can relate to, but will still probably be too controversial for a lot of people, because I'm trying to be as honest as possible. While I totally froze up with anxiety when Kristina asked me to send her an excerpt, I really like it so far. It's awesome that I didn't plan AT ALL, and wouldn't even allow my mind to wonder into the territory of plot before last night, and yet I've organically met this really fleshed-out character and I can already see where the story will probably go. I love writing, guys.

And now, finally, I am going to go shower and rid my arm of the Sharpie Dark Mark I drew to complete my costume, as well as cleanse my body and soul from a combination between too much fun and too much slaving away. College is exhilarating.

Sexy: Having handy writing buddies available at all times. I've been talking to Kristina on Skype for much of the morning, and we had a laugh about how, when my word count was up to 6,000, hers looked like this:

Unsexy: The condition of my physical appearance. Remnants of dark eyeshadow, hair in a floppy knot, big t-shirt and a pair of Heather's shorts. SHOWER TIME.

Chipotle burritos this year: 34

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: Site maintenance. Will update next time.

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Reclusiveness, Hospitals, Running?

Currently, there are five people on my roommate's twin bed. My bed contains me, my laptop, and my personal space. They each take turns yelling for me to join their clothed orgy, and I politely decline. "Hayley G. Hoover," says PJ, "we have grilled cheese over here." Haha. Sigh. Once again, I have inadvertently become associated with an item of food.

"I don't even love grilled cheese," I tell him, smiling more than is necessary, because one of my roommate's friends is here, and whenever he comes over, I look like an antisocial psycho. Where are all the observers when I'm jumping off with walls with joy? Even when I'm hanging out with friends, I'm still the one on the computer in the corner.

Oh. Oh, alas. Both PJ and Erin are now on top of me. "Do you feel the love?" PJ asks. Erin replies, grunting, swatting his limbs away from her, "I'm feeling something, but it's not love!"

This week has been insane, guys. I spent five hours in a hospital waiting room on Monday because a friend had some kind of virus. She's fine, but it was kind of scary. I hadn't anticipated not having a chance to change clothes after classes, so along with being worried sick for my friend, I was also freezing to death in summery clothes, being judged by the other waiters. Never mind the fact that they were giving their young children sugary pop to drink and swearing in front of them and all kinds of things I can barely tolerate, and... angst, angst, angst.

But, on a more lively note, I've somehow, in the past week, undone nineteen years of fatassery and learned to legitimately enjoy running. What?! Yes, I know. I normally prefer the chubby, sedentary lifestyle popular among nursing home patients, but I've finally found that if I turn up my iPod loud enough to not hear myself breathe or my feet hitting the ground, it feels good. I've also taken to continue being a total weirdo, and I sometimes (okay, frequently) lipsync along to showtunes while I run. It's the same exhilaration that comes from performing, practically, because you're sweaty, but you have to keep singing. *flashes the Nerdfighter hand gesture*

Sexy: People who participate in nanowrimo! After posting this video, I got so many notifications from new "writing buddies" that I literally laughed out loud. I ADORE the internet.

Unsexy: Girls sitting in front of you in class with their thongs hanging out. That was Erin's input to the blog. I actually don't have a big enough problem with T-frames to have thought of it on my own.

Chipotle burritos this year: 33

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,258

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Pig Roast, Hypnotism, Paranormal Activity

This morning, my sister and I drove out to West Virginia to meet up with the rest of my family at my uncle's house. There were a lot of hugs exchanged, a lot of loud, obnoxious stories told to catch up with my aunt and one of my cousins, and, of course, a lot of pie. Oh yeah... and a hundred-pound slaughtered hog, sodomized by a metal pole and rotating slowly on a spit.

What can I say? We're a little bit country. As a vegetarian, you'd think this practice would gross me out, but for some reason, I don't have any qualms about watching a carcass leak watery blood onto a grill. I laughed uncontrollably watching my sister scream and flail as my brother threw the pig's tongue at her. My dad, uncle and brother barbarically sawed off chunks of hide, wiped the knives on their bloody aprons, and licked the organ juice off their fingers. And I, frankly, found it amusing. I mean, I'd rather eat insect excretion than gnaw on a slice of fresh jerky peeled from a mammal with eyes and teeth still intact, but I find the practice itself kind of pleasantly homey. We may be slightly trashy, but at least we've got identity. Hael yeahuh, ya'll.

Anyway, last night was really fun, too. I went to this free indoor pre-Halloween fest with Heather, my roommate, Katie and Kelsey from down the hall, Heather's boyfriend, and Heather's boyfriend's roommate. We were first in line to see a hypnotist perform, and spent the next hour and a half listening to a strange little man with a thick Bostonian accent tell us we were getting sleepy-- very sleepy. I volunteered to have my mind controlled, and admittedly, I did start to doze off after ten minutes of calming music and being told to imagine myself lying in the grass on a summer day. And I tried to stick it out, but somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark, I couldn't stop thinking about how uncomfortable it was to close my eyes and let my head hang in front of a crowd of strangers, and my shoulders started to shake from my desperate efforts to suppress my giggles. "Hayley's laughing," I heard Roomie say. "Look-- she's laughing." I lost it, and was nudged to return to the audience. Hahahahaha. Story of my life.

The audience ended up proving itself the place to be, though, because it was extraordinarily entertaining to watch Heather's boyfriend, Johnny, valiantly keep a straight face while he belly danced, pretending to be in a trance. Katie, however, claims to have been legitimately hypnotized, and after my many attempts to catch her in the joke, still denies that she had any control over herself. I'm a skeptic, of course, but at the same time? Katie's quite the giggler, and her lips didn't even perk up while she threw her hands in the air and "rode a roller coaster," and she seemed genuinely like she was sleepwalking while she waltzed with the girl next to her. I guess the mystery of the legitimacy of hypnotism is another case that remains, presently, unsolved.

After the show, the boys left, and the girls-- including Erin this time-- saw Paranormal Activity together. Heather and I drove the other viewers crazy by analyzing the movie's cinematography, pointing out the inconsistencies in the plot, and making fun of the whole mockumentary style in general. "Oh my gosh, we're all gonna die? Oh no! Just let me adjust the lighting and sound on this camera and haul it on my shoulder as we run away!"

While I'm not going to tell you that it was terrible, since most of the other girls were scared at least once, the whole thing just felt like a halfhearted flop onto the lonelygirl15 bandwagon. The film's entire appeal is in the fact that it feels "real," and I think youtube ruined that for me. I may not know a whole lot about professional screen-acting, but I consider myself an expert on how real people act in front of portable video cameras. And sorry, guys, but Paranormal Activity doesn't really get it. Besides, startles and white noise don't creep me out, and every jabbing attempt at a scary plot was short-lived and unresolved. Booo-ring.

So that's all I've really got for you tonight. I hate to be that blogger who constantly apologizes for a lack of updates but makes little effort to solve the problem, but I mean it when I say I'm going to stop taking off more than one day in a row. It may get harder as NaNoWriMo takes off, but I will prevail. Because I'm Hayley G. Hoover. Bitch.

Sexy: Microwaved cookie dough. I don't care if you think it's gross-- it's better than cookies and raw dough combined. My domestic side comes out whenever the population of our dorm room exceeds its usual four people, and so the other day, I entertained a large group with tea mugs full of dough, and we sat around, eating it with spoons. This is college.

Unsexy: The fact that our ceiling light keeps flashing and refuses to stay on. We've tried over and over again, and we've spoken encouraging, soothing words to our ghost, whom Katie named Night Hawk, urging him to stop playing around. "No luck so far," Hayley said, as she blogged by lamplight and wished she could see past her laptop screen.

Chipotle burritos this year: 33

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,195

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3

Dough, Glee, My Dad, Secret Government = Chaos

"I see nothing wrong with this," Heather says as my roommate deposits two stacked Oreos into Erin's open mouth. To what is Heather referring? Oh, the fact that the four of us are balancing hot, droopy microwaved dough between our fingers and shoveling uncooked cinnamon rolls down our throats. It was Roomie's idea, and now we're all a combination between sick and joyously laughing.

It's later now, and besides the fact that tonight's episode of Glee was an obvious product placement for 7-Eleven, that show always puts my group in a collective good mood. Unfortunately, PJ couldn't make it this week, and Michal has a cold (despite her unfailing claims that she has tuberculosis. Never mind that she's vaccinated and just being delirious for comedic effect) and we're therefore discussing the show on Skype.

Oh. Oh my. Not to change the subject so abruptly, but look at this conversation I just had with my mother through text messages:

Mom: Dad's listening to mrs nerimon

Hayley: ...

Mom: What?

Hayley: I said "..." as in, "I can't find words to express my feelings about that."

Mom: I told him he could get it on itunes

Hayley: Oooooh my goodness, Mother.

Mom: He's moved on to the fine kone

Hayley: Tell Dad that he's acting like one of those creepy old men you tell me to avoid on the internet!

Mom: Lol

I... wow. After that, I'm not sure there's much left to say.

Sexy: The Glee cast cover of "Sweet Caroline" from tonight's episode.

Unsexy: TWQP, who spent today's class secretly embarrassing me by talking about YouTube and Adsense, telling us about prescription pill addiction, and claiming that every time you use any sort of household appliance, the "secret underground global government" is recording every bit of information about you.

Chipotle burritos this year: 33

Bagel Street visits this school year: 4

Subscribers: 21,126

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3