The Hayleylujah Chorus

Japing

2012-01-30T01:06:00.007-04:00

Studying English at the university level has taught me a few things. First, the word "postmodern" is misused and abused and annoying as hell. Second, try to throw the word "misogyny" into every paper you write because it will make female teachers like you and male teachers afraid of you. And third, don't effing wait until the last effing minute to write an effing paper or else you'll be up all effing night waiting for effing video files to render and writing an effing blog post even though you're too effing tired to be co-effing-herent. Effing.

Still, here I am. Just tonight, I was talking to a good friend about our self-improvement plans-- his being to value his time more and mine being to find more balance/stop putting all my energy into one basket-- and the conversation reminded me that I need to write for fun at least once a day. I spend so much of my time churning out lame essays and working on the not-at-all-lame-but-still-kind-of-stressful book, and if I don't stop to smell the Blogger roses every now and then, I'll start holding a grudge against my keyboard. So here we are. Let's have fun. Let's talk about something fun.

...I don't remember what fun is. Hold on; I'll google it.

Oh, awesome. According to this, "sport" is a synonym and "jape" is a concept that exists. I don't really know what a jape is, but it's sure going to be sport throwing it into conversation for the rest of my life.

My train of thought has derailed and caught on fire and now Anastasia is fleeing from it-- where was I? Nowhere? Perfect.

I had a really pleasant weekend. My legs are starting to form these super intensely hardcore muscle lines from all the running I've been doing, including five miles on Friday afternoon (fear me!), after which I hung out with a man I'm... hanging out with. The ellipsis wasn't meant to make that sound suggestive and cosmopolitan; I just don't know what the proper terminology is for not-friending/not-dating. Anyway, then Saturday was spent being suggestive and cosmopolitan and throwing around horrible attempts at sex-related wordplay, seeing as me and a few of my friends rented five Sex and the City DVDs. We sat on my couch for hours, accomplished less than nothing, ate too much popcorn, and felt wonderful. What is it about shows that are categorically awful that makes them so damn pleasant to stare at all day? I mean, prop me up in front of Kim Cattrall long enough and I'll be pretending to hold a martini and putting unnecessary emphasis on the word "hard" for the rest of the week. And doing that thing where she takes too much breath in through her nose and holds vowel sounds too long. What is that?

That brings us to today, Sunday (it's still Sunday until I fall asleep, right?), which I put to great use by neglecting my stupid paper in order to get a lot of work-work done and organize my calendar and watch old Very Mary-Kate episodes. I'm exhausted. Like try-to-describe-Kim-Cattrall's-speech-patterns-in-terms-of-breath-placement exhausted. As soon as this video finishes exporting, I'm going to fall asleep and will myself to dream about attacking homework assignments repeatedly with a chainsaw. And if anyone or anything tries to stand in my way, I'll turn the chainsaw on them and make them listen to audio files of Kim Cattrall saying the word "penis" over and over again until I get that effing sleep.

Nah. I'm just japing with you.

P.S. I posted a new main channel video on Thursday and I really like this one, so, like, you know. I hope you do too.

Being It

2012-01-24T23:17:00.003-04:00

I worry sometimes that I'm going to start coming off as phony if I keep up this "I love you I love you I love you" habit where my blog readers are concerned, but I can't stress enough how genuinely I feel that way. I can write the melancholiest post of Debbie Downer proportions, full of emo ass similes and all the works, and yet there you guys go, leaving heartfelt, kind comments like I did anything real to deserve them. This dumb little blog is such a happy vacation place for me-- a cozy corner of the Internet with comfy chairs and hot tea and amusing people-- and you guys make it that way. So I'll say it once again, even if it sounds like pandering, because I am just never able to get the point across as strongly as I mean it: I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to care about me, and a special thank you to everyone who commented on my last post.*

Got it? Okay, now get over yourselves. I have other things to say.

I'm still nowhere near unsad-- I don't see myself getting to that point in the near future-- but for the rest of this week, I've been doing a good job of ignoring it and moving on. I'm the kind of busy where I just don't have time to be miserable. I'm going to class (spending most of the lecture neglecting my notes in order to write to-do lists and Answerly videos [or organizing different aspects of the book]), doing the homework that accompanies three literature classes (and Linguistics!), training for the half-marathon I plan to complete this year, and devoting every other free second to reading and editing submissions for my short story compilation. I've actually had to turn down offers for dates because I just can't squeeze them into my schedule. Did you read that? Did you let that soak in? People who have been following me around the Internet since I was in high school are probably drowning in their own drool from the shock of it. I have become that cynical bitch in romantic comedies who "doesn't have TIME for love!" because her job kicks too much ass, and I'm kind of really savoring being able to say so.

See, another good distraction from a personal crisis is working hard for something and proving to yourself that you kind of rock a little bit. I keep shivering from these little waves of self-actualization whenever I cross another item off my list of goals.** And you know what? I'm doing good things. I wanted to be a published editor so I'm being one. I wanted to find a way to help other writers get their work read so I'm doing it. I want to be a serious runner so I'm becoming one. I want to show the source of my sadness-- and the whole rest of the world-- that I am capable of accomplishing what I set out to accomplish. So you know what, depression? Kiss my ass.

On that Tyra Banks-like note, I have to wrap this up so I can get back to reading submissions. The contest closes in exactly one week, so I'm trying to get everything under control before the really hard stuff begins! Yikes. Anyway, thank you once again for reading my ramblings and caring about the life of a stranger. This week, I challenge you to find something you want to be and to take the first steps towards being it. Seriously, it's the best medicine I can think of.

Keep being awesome and keep kicking ass.

*Anna, Rebekah, Alex, Amanda, Louise, Sylvain, Cat, Cate, Rose24, Evelyn, Nicci, another Anna, Amie, Niki, Kathy, sterff1face, Bridget, Katie, Miranda, Alexis, an anonymous commenter, another Cat, Sara, Kenzly, Bethany, Rosianna (<3), Cath, Typical life of boy teenagers, and Stacie.

**Although, come to think, that might be a symptom of a concussion. I've had two car accidents this month! But those are stories for another day.

Sad?

2012-01-20T23:58:00.000-04:00

Just a warning before we begin a slow and tedious spiral into incessant white girl whining: If this is your first time reading my blog, please skip this one. If you're having a good day, please skip this one. If you have a strong (normal) opposition to the language of shitty emo high school diaries, please skip this one. And if there is absolutely anything else you could be doing right now-- like even laundry or filing your toenails or reading the Wikipedia page about wool-- please skip this one. I even linked the wool page, so, like, don't say I didn't give you the choice.

Anyway, here it goes.

Sad is not something I like to be. I'd choose angry or bored or lonely or sick or stabbed-repeatedly-in-the-kneecap-with-toothpicks over Sad. Being sad makes me feel... pathetic? Or needy? Or like I'm a burden to the people I spend enough time around for them to be obligated to care? I know it's irrational to feel guilty for talking about my human emotions in the place where I... write about my human emotions, but there it is. I'm sad and I regret being sad and whdoihadnfjenbfjwe whatever.

Unfortunately, I can't just ignore it this time. My tendency to repress the feelings I don't feel like feeling leads to all this physical evidence. I gain weight, I get dark circles under my eyes, and I actually broke out in hives all over my face last night. Did you hear that? My own skin said Screw this! and tried to escape my body. A little Benadryl later and okay, fine, yes. I admit it, blog. I am sad.

Sorry. I mean. Sorry for saying sorry. I mean. Sorry.

The Fault in Our Stars (Nothing resembling spoilers)

2012-01-18T01:18:00.004-04:00

At the risk of sounding like I'm under the influence of something hard and illegal, my stomach feels like a tennis ball right now. I don't know why that's the image coming to mind, but I can't shake it. When my old dog was a jumpy, vivacious puppy, she used to tear the living shit out of tennis balls-- rip off all the fuzz, bat tiny holes into them with her nails, cover them in slobber-- and as soon as they were totally unrecognizable, she'd place them in my palm. My dog would then look up at me expectantly, wag, and I would pretend I wasn't on the verge of gagging because I loved her. The way those balls looked and felt after being destroyed, with their cores still intact but every other fiber an utter disaster... that's how I feel after reading The Fault in Our Stars.

Let me clarify: John Green's new novel, The Fault in Our Stars, is beautiful. At no point in its eloquent, funny, torturous pages does it resemble a chew toy in any way. I, however, am a mess.

I considered writing up a list of reasons why I'm a mess, citing quotations in MLA format, going into detail about which parts affected me in which ways. But I can't do that. Not only because my stomach is a raw, wet, skinned tennis ball after the emotional shitstorm I just dragged myself through, but because it was such a personal experience for me. It's likely that the vast majority of people reading this blog will also encounter the novel-- and I sincerely hope that they do-- but I don't want to talk about it. Does that make sense?

It reminds me of high school, when everyone assumes everyone else's lives to be public domain for discussion. Occasionally, I'd sit in class and read a book, and on every one of those occasions, someone would come up and ask, "What are you reading?" I'd sigh or shrug or breath-laugh, hold up the cover for them to see, and mumble, "It's just this thing."

What do you mean, what am I reading? Reading is not a group activity! Reading is not something I've chosen to share with you! There's a secret universe playing itself out in a buried corner of my brain right now, and you are not invited in!

That's... that's sort of how I feel about The Fault in Our Stars. I can't preach enough about how grateful I am to belong to a community of like-minded people who get the opportunity to love things together, and I deeply, sincerely hope that thousands of people get to love this book. I hope every person who touches it comes away with a tennis ball stomach, and I hope it goes on and on and breaks the hearts of people I'll never meet. But for now, even if it's unrealistic or selfish or juvenile or silly, I want to pretend that it belongs only to me.

However, I understand that I'm supposed to have something to say about it. I'm expected, as someone known online first and foremost for her association with the author and the things he's created, to review the experience I just had between bright blue covers. So let's just say this: Tonight, I finished a book that made my insides feel like they'd been through a spin-cycle in a dog's mouth. And it was extremely beautiful.

Sunshine

2012-01-01T16:24:00.003-04:00

We've had an unseasonably warm, dry winter so far in Ohio*-- sometimes our Novembers are covered in a foot of snow, sometimes our Decembers are slushy and permanently gray-- but my stay at my parents' house this season has been full of relatively nonchalant 40-something-degree weather. Considering this, it shouldn't have come as a shock to me when I stepped outside today at noon to bright, blinding sunshine and a jacket-free temperature. It made sense with the weather pattern, and it wasn't totally out of the blue, but I still found myself spreading my arms out in the wind, taking a huge breath, and feeling like, "Wow. Is this real life?"

My 2011 was a wonderful year full of opportunities and fun memories and love and personal growth and everything else it was supposed to be, right up until the very last two days. Then, in the middle of the night, I received a call that informed me of some deeply personal, deeply distressing news. It's not something I can-- or would-- disclose to the entire world, but I'm currently going through a small tragedy in my life.... For a while, I was tempted to ignore it in the areas of my life where that was possible, to pretend everything was fine online and to my casual friends, to compartmentalize. But then, this afternoon, I felt that sunshine.

It's really amazing how, when horrible news comes at you like a poison-coated butcher knife to the stomach, you can feel so immersed in sadness and worry that a year's worth of happiness can be wiped from your memory in one fluid motion. You're checked out, you're miserable, just gone for a day or two. The clock ticks passed midnight on December 31st, but nothing feels different at all. But the thing is, life moves on whether you're willing to participate or not. The old year ends and the new year starts and the clouds move in the sky and the sun comes out in the morning. I'm feeling low-- really, really low-- and that doesn't change just because I replaced my calendar-- but something about a warm, bright new day makes me feel like, I don't know... life will always continue to regenerate itself. Just like my bad news came out of nowhere amidst a previously great year, 50 degrees sometimes happens on January 1st. There's always hope, even when you're not looking for it.

*Bear with me here. I'm allowed to draw melodramatic symbolism from the weather once a year, and I'm getting it out of my system early on. (Creative Writing professors basically get paid their entire salary to slash out weather metaphors with red pen. And to quote a lot of dead people/sometimes wear berets.)

Updates and News

2011-12-19T14:56:00.003-04:00

Hello, old friends! I have so much to tell you. Sit.

First, I need to let out a gigantic WOW in regards to Less Than Three, the book I’m editing with Kristina Horner. Most of you are probably aware that we’re holding a short story contest about love, friendship, and Internet culture (if you’re not aware, check out our website and awarez-vous!), but here’s something you may not have known: you guys are talented. I’ve spent this week going through the first batch of submissions, and I’ve already had my fair share of lols and omgs. Mine and K-Horn's summertime dreams of creating a job for ourselves that would both benefit our awesome readers and make us freak out with joy-- it's happening! I feel like a proud aunt. The project now has a twitter you can follow if you're interested.

The second news item for today comes to you in the form of a new youtube channel for which I'm a contributor! Answerly is part of My Damn Channel and it features myself, Kristina, and Joseph Birdsong each giving weekly advice on a different topic. My videos focus on college-- tips for saving money, dealing with classes, dealing with people-- and they go up every Monday. There's a new one today in which I divulge all the presents I'm giving for Christmas... so don't watch it if you're, like, my dad. Yay!

Third, and most ridiculously, I'm starting a sort of underground video series on my second channel in which I plan to wear pajamas and complain loudly and inarticulately about old episodes of Glee. This comes as both an answer to the success of my second twitter account that I devote mostly to liveblogging the show, and as an excuse to stare with gaping mouth at Dianna Agron and Naya Rivera while still feeling somewhat accomplished. Because I just wasn't wasting enough of my time before.

Finally, I was lucky enough to be a part of the fifth annual Project for Awesome! I spent all of Saturday typing my way into carpal tunnel in the name of charity, and held down the fort by hosting a portion of the 24-hour livestream event. I may or may not have repeatedly licked a plastic lawn flamingo when we reached our goal of $40,000 in donations. Maybe. It's rumored.

Phew. There's my big news dump for the day. Thank you to everyone who got involved with P4A, has submitted or plans to submit a story to Less Than Three, follows my brainvomit on youtube, or just has my back enough to keep reading through my more boring blog posts. I love you guys and I hope you have a lovely day!

Internet Stage Fright? A Sleepy Ramble, etc.

2011-12-02T01:26:00.002-04:00

A really adorable thing computers sometimes do is stop working properly. This comes in particular handy when one works online and needs to be able to edit videos and answer emails and send large files at a moment's notice. (I'm dealing with this problem mostly by taking long, angst-ridden baths and playing four-hour games of M/F/K on my friend's couch.) Anyway, below is a blog post I wrote up two days ago in the middle of a restless night, and while it's even moodier and pointlesser in the light of day, I thought I'd share it with you anyway. Feel no obligation to agree with any part of it or attempt to rationalize with my half-asleep self; this is purely for entertainment.

* * *

There're a number of reasons why I probably shouldn't be blogging right now. For one, it's nearly 2AM and I'm on babysitting duty for my sister's newborn early tomorrow morning, and since my last hangout with my nephew resulted in infant urine on my leg, I should aim to have slept before the baby handover. For two, my laptop is currently moving at the pace of... something agonizingly slow (shut up; the simile-maker in my brain is on snooze mode; it's 2AM!), and since it's too cold and dark and Ohioish for me to go running in the evenings, any minor annoyance like a slow computer can make me furious and restless. And finally, I shouldn't be blogging right now because everything I have to say tonight is immature and whiny. But when has that stopped me before, huh? Actually, that's... sort of what I wanted to talk about.

I receive a lot of emails and comments and tweets lately from people who say they wish I'd blog more often. (I also receive a lot from people [middle-aged men in basements] who want me to do fetish porn, but they aren't as polite about it.) These messages create a little battle in my head, because on the one hand, it's AMAZING that a group of people care enough about me that they want to hear what I have to say or pretend to laugh at my punctuation jokes, but on the other hand, it's like... what if I can't blog?

I mean... okay, here's the deal. I started posting videos and stories about my life online-- to an audience, at least-- in 2005. In 2005, I was fifteen years old. I didn't have a driver's license. My dad didn't have an email address. I'd had one semi-real boyfriend who was probably gay, I'd never tasted wine or filled out a college application or gone out of the state without my parents, I still had some remnants of funky overgrown bangs, and my internet existence was virtually anonymous. Yes, it had my full name on it (very successful, middle school assembly about protecting personal information online!), but no one who knew me in the real world had any reason to know about my double life. As a teenager, I had the incredible experience of being able to write freely and extensively about my feelings, whether they were sweet or cruel or mature or silly, and receive feedback from total strangers. It was awesome, and I wouldn't trade that time for anything, but it left me spoiled. Because now I am not fifteen and now I am not anonymous.

I've met so many of you through events and concerts and conferences, I've saved stacks of letters with your handwritten names at the bottom, I've read your blogs or watched your video responses or gotten to know parts of you through your daily comments. It's mindblowing to hear that I've positively influenced someone by talking about overcoming depression or losing weight or sticking up for something, and all these little mindblows build up until... I feel guilty for publishing posts about sitting around eating cookie dough, feeling moody for no reason, changing my opinions and views so drastically that they aren't at all in line with what originally endeared me to someone. I feel responsibility to be the voice a fifteen-year-old might need to hear when all I really feel like being is a sloppy hippy college student. I can't be freely imperfect when my words represent some idea beyond myself, but I can't be some noncontroversial figure of perfection, either, because I'm just a little bit too sucky.

There are times when I feel blogger's adrenaline building up like dandruff flakes in my brain, and I want so badly to purge the story of my weekend or bad date or big mistake into cyberspace, complete with dumb analogies and links to only-sort-of-relevant sites. I've even started drafts of posts, started in on what I've had to say, and then backspaced backspaced backspaced, seeing the faces and names of different people who would be disappointed/triggered/upset by my words, all of them boggled around in my head. I can't tell you how I tried this thing or kissed this person or made an ass out of myself in this way, because I serve as so many different symbols to so many different people.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... it's hard to be loved and respected and wanted? God, I'm sorry. I don't mean to come off as a whiny brat. I'm extraordinarily grateful for the connections I've formed with people-- whether full-blown friendships or just tiny meaningful moments-- because of this odd, unconventional lifestyle. I would never undo whatever it is I did to become someone's idea of a good or healthy or awesome person, because it feels amazing to make some kind of positive impact. But with impact comes pressure, and raaaaaaawr, I'm like a shaken Coke can, you guys; I swear to god.

My three options are to either stop writing personal posts and just use this blog for businessy stuff (yuck, gross, please don't even dignify that option with consideration), to say whatever I want regardless of whether everybody who ever liked me before changes their minds, or just... stop altogether? I would sort of rather vomit all over myself than put an end to using my blog as a public diary, but I also can't pretend to talk about my life while leaving every single interesting detail out just because young women and my extended family and my parents' friends have access to it.

* * *

And that's when Firefox shut down and I yelled agitatedly and went to sleep. I suppose I still agree with my sentiments from the other night, and I'd be interested to hear your opinions on the situation, but again, it seems much less important while the sun is up.

P.S. I'm posting a video this week to announce the book project to the greater public, and I'm both excited and nervous. I think I'll be able to clear up some of the concerns expressed in blog comments the other week (although most of those problems have already been solved via email) and even though I take criticism worse than just about anybody, I'm grateful that we got to test the idea out on you guys, the most loyal and sweet and awesome group on the internet, before opening it up to the masses. I am incredibly appreciative of the support and enthusiasm some of you have shown, and I hope excitement will eclipse my anxiety about the project once more people get involved!

BIG EXCITING ANNOUNCEMENT!

2011-11-16T15:17:00.003-04:00

It's today, guys. Today is the day. The big announcement I've been alluding to for months is finally here, finally ready, finally open to the public. I feel giddy and nervous like it's the first day of third grade and I'm wearing a new jumper and matching headband. Here goes.

We're writing a book. As in you and me. We're writing a book together. Starting today, Kristina Horner and I are accepting submissions of internet-centered short stories, the best of which the two of us will edit and compile into a real, tangible book that we're calling Less Than Three: Stories about Love, Like, and the Internet. The book is slated to be published in the summer of 2012, and we want you in on it.

All the information (and the submissions page!) is available on our fancy, sparkling website. We'll be advertising the project to our youtube channels and twitter feeds over the course of the next week, but it was important to both of us that we give our devoted blog readers a bit of a head-start advantage. So many of you are writers-- awesome ones, too!-- and you've always shown us so much more loyalty and support than we've done anything to deserve, so naturally, you were the ones we had in mind when we conceived this idea. I hope a bunch of you are interested, because I am seriously flailing with excitement at the prospect of reading your work. And flail-typing is hard.

You have until the end of January to submit, which will hopefully avoid conflicts with NaNoWriMo and final exams. Until then, I'll be anxiously awaiting your submissions and singing the words "WE'RE WRITING A FREAKING BOOK!" over and over again to the tunes of various pop songs. It's on, guys. Let's go.

So guess what happened?

2011-09-28T20:03:00.003-04:00

Yes, I know, okay. There were several reasons behind my absence, none of them were legitimate enough to excuse it; I'm sorry. Burn me in effigy or call me a mean name in the comments or anything it takes to get it out of your system. Alright. Are we good? Can we proceed?

Truth be told, I've been avoiding you guys for a week or two, mostly out of embarrassment and general apathy. Well. That makes it sound more dramatic than it is-- I'm not apathetic. Right now, I'm quite purposefully shoving Wheat Thins into the wide-open, chapped-to-shit cavern that was once my mouth. I care about these Wheat Thins. They care about me. We're in an exclusive romantic relationship.

I... yeah. I got dumped.

I wasn't planning on making some giant public announcement about it, but it seems silly to hide things from you guys. This dumb blog has seen me at my worst and at my best, and to deny the existence of the former would just make the latter seem fake. So yes! I got dumped! I got dumped, I got dumped, I got dumped! I alternate between feeling 100% normal and then like I've just been shot in the stomach. Right now it's the second one... hence my efforts to fill the wound hole with high fructose corn syrup. It isn't the end of the world, but it is the end of a very big part of my life, you know? I haaaate being the victim but I can't pretend I'm not sad.

ON THE MUCH BRIGHTER SIDE, I have plenty of other things to occupy my mind. This week, I'll be finally making an official announcement about a project I've been alluding to for some time. I think most of you will find it really exciting, especially since it may (spoiler!) involve you. I hope you'll accept this token of my affection in exchange for a few more instances of blogbitching about my love life. Deal?

Chipotle burritos this year: A lot.*
Subscribers: 55,581

*There's a burrito place on campus that I can run to in between classes and while I'm ashamed to admit it, I've lost count of my designer burritos.

goodnight

2011-08-10T23:50:00.001-04:00

So sleepy. I spent the day playing with Heather and the evening in a hot tub with other girl friends; somewhere between the jets massaging my shoulders and the cream-filled doughnut I devoured, I became so relaxed that the ride home felt like a cradle and I have no idea what this sentence is doing. My room smells like summer and the ceiling fan is blowing my hair in a very comforting rhythm. I had planned something interesting to blog about tonight, but any bit of coherency melted away an hour ago... I love you guys, but I don't want to talk to you right now.

I hope you all sleep well tonight and have fantastic dreams about cupcakes or something equally satisfying. Murrr. Goodnight. <3

P.S. Stefan! The EGOT necklace! Thank you!!

EGOT

2011-08-09T22:58:00.003-04:00

Today is awesome because...

I don't get many chances to check my post office box, but its contents never fail to make my mouth gape open like a catfish. Someone-- I'M LOOKING AT YOU GUYS-- made me the proud owner of this little gem. For those out of the loop, it's a reference to 30 Rock, my favorite TV writing alive right now, and stands for Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony. The life goal of Tracy Morgan's eccentric character now lives around my neck. I am giddy, I am gleeful, I am grateful. It came straight from the artist, though, so I don't know who sent it to me. If you're reading this, show yourself!

I spent my morning amusing myself with your Pottermore surveys. Some of you had seriously charming responses to how your usernames represent you. (Especially yours, EJ!) Also, a surprising number of us are either cats or dogs at heart, and you know what? It makes sense. We're the types of people who spend a lot of time reading and sitting on our computers. We're domesticated. I feel that. Anyway, it makes me smile to know that I'm not alone in obsessing over this website before it even begins. Look at you people, validating my weird ass refusal to mature beyond paying $30 for a piece of wood....

On that note, we've just narrowly escaped Yaxley in my reread of Deathly Hallows, so I'm off for the night. Once again, thank you for being quirky and interesting in my comments, thank you for sending me amazing shit in the mail, and thank you for just hanging out with me every day this month. I love you guys. See you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 16
Subscribers: 53,696

Pottermore

2011-08-08T22:46:00.003-04:00

I've been on a Potter high since LeakyCon. Rereading Deathly Hallows, refreshing my email inbox once an hour in hopes of a Pottermore announcement, finding myself in lengthy debates to revival those preserved in 2006 forums. It's not that I'd gotten over Harry Potter-- far from it-- but even after spending months with my attentions elsewhere, Harry always seems to wiggle his way back to the forefront of my brain I'm facing some kind of uncertainty in life. I'm about to move into my first apartment, about to be 21, about to be facing the final years of my education, about to make a big career move. Nothing's really constant right now... except Hogwarts. No matter where or who I am, I'm always just a cover away from the Gryffindor common room, and this gives me more peace than I can really explain.

So in celebration of a new phase in the HP fandom, I shall now complete a Pottermore-related survey I found on tumblr. You can fill it out too, if you want (I'd legitimately be interested in reading your answers to some of them) and post it either as a comment or on your own blog/tumblr, so long as you give me a link. Ready?

What's your Pottermore username? AccioWizard151.
What House do you think it sounds like? Probably Hufflepuff, right? Because they're relational? And they'd want to... summon... friends?
What House do you want to be in? Gryffindor. I've been confident in my allegiance to the scarlet and gold for a long time now and, frankly, I'll probably have some kind of identity crisis if the website tries to tell me otherwise.
Does your username relate to you at all? No, not really. I was with a bunch of my very excited fandom friends when I registered and one of them told me it was the coolest of my options.
What kind of wand would you wish to get? Something shorter than a foot so I wouldn't put anyone's eye out. Hopefully one that swishes when you whip it around.
Are you pure, half-blooded or Muggle born? I'm pretty sure I'm a pureblood.
Which day did you get into Pottermore? Day 1!
What shape is your Patronus? A burrito.
What does your boggart look like? Like Mrs. Weasley's-- the death of someone close to me.
Would you rather be an Animagus or a Matamorphmagus? Tough one, but I'd probably go the Tonks route.
If you were an Animagus, what animal would you be? I've thought a lot about this. I think I share some characteristics with cats, but my whole family hates them, so that might pose a problem. I don't know. What do you think?

Alright, all this talk of Rowling is making me anxious to cuddle up and read. I hope you all have a lovely day. I'll see you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 16
Subscribers: 53,643

Disjointed

2011-08-07T22:04:00.003-04:00

I feel really disjointed tonight. Nothing's wrong and I don't have a thing in the world to worry about, but I just feel like every time I try to work on one of my many projects today, a cartoon thought bubble forms over my head and all it says is "bnSKJDBKJSNF LKN lamslkdjasnd." Sort of like VidCon, when I lost my voice? I'm pushing, but nothing comes out. I don't know what's up.

Prior to opening this page and beginning today's blog post, I was editing a video. And by "editing a video," I mean to say that I was starring blankly at a giant line of video clips, flexing my toes, swinging my wand from the Harry Potter theme park, yelling "Expecto YouTubenum!" and feeling disappointed by the lack of results. It's been a while since I uploaded anything decent, and I even promised to post footage of my summer travels, but I'm having a hard time finding that... creative spark. Every video project I've started in the last two months has ended with a frustrated sigh. I mean, I feel totally silly for complaining in the slightest-- waah, it's sooo hard to play around in costumes in my free time and receive recognition and compliments for it-- but it really is hard to fake creativity. When you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it. Do any of you have advice for getting over a project slump? *Frustrated sigh.*

I'm gonna end this early tonight in an effort to buckle down and accomplish something. Hopefully, I'll break through the barrier and wake up tomorrow to filled pages and exported files. Hopefully, I won't fall asleep face-down on my keyboard with a wand imprinting into my cheek. Hopefully. Goodnight, guys!

Chipotle burritos this year: 16
Subscribers: 53,589
Miles run today: 1ish? Maybe more like half of one.

P.S. I missed the chance to update yesterday because Heather, my good friend/roommate from last school year, turned up in town without much warning, so I naturally had to devote my entire evening to giggling and clapping. We gushed about our summers (fun!), rode around on a tandem bike (like senior citizens!), and saw Friends With Benefits (...meh). I wish I had a better story for you, but frankly, it sometimes feels really good to have storyless nights. My friends are good, I feel good with them, all is good. Good.

Best Friend!

2011-08-05T22:48:00.004-04:00

Tonight's source of overflowing happiness is brought to you all the way from Portland, Oregon, and it comes in the form of Jess. Those of you who've followed this blog from the beginning are well acquainted with my best friend-- you watched as we spent every waking moment together in high school, you've heard stories of us as kindergartners, middle schoolers, graduates, and you witnessed my melancholy when she made the smart decision to get on a plane and start her adult life on the west coast. Since she left (the day before my 20th birthday), we'd seen each other just twice... well, surprise! This afternoon, I received a call from her home phone number. My Jess is home!

We spent a few hours walking around, catching up, soaking each other up. She has to leave again tomorrow morning for family vacation, but I can't even express how valuable today was. Some people have the magical ability to leave a trail of joy behind them everywhere they go. My best friend puts them to shame.

I'm going to bed on a good note tonight, blog. I hope you all have a lovely day!

Chipotle burritos this year: 16
Subscribers: 53,468

Drinking Water

2011-08-04T22:48:00.002-04:00

I'm apparently still recovering from my spontaneous month-long trip, as evidenced by my body's determination to sleep until 2 o'clock this afternoon. I have literally never done that before in my life. Thirteen hours, body? You needed thirteen hours? You have the audacity to continue growing spiky leg hair when I let you sleep for thirteen hours?

I've been trying to get myself back on track today by going for a long walk, drinking my weight in water, and reminding myself how to drive a car. Still, the weeks of constant sitting and junk consumption have caused my leg muscles to feel like mush... and I think I've forgotten what vegetables taste like. Life on the road is exciting as hell but it isn't exactly conducive to a healthy lifestyle.

That's where you guys come into play. Along with blogging every day, finishing my novel, and working on my big Mystery Project, I'm going to devote August to getting back in fighting shape before school starts... and I need you to keep me in check. There's nothing more motivational than hearing about a friend's success, so here's the task: if, at any time during August, you do something good for your body (working out, skipping doughnuts, working to curb bad habits, etc.), leave a comment on this blog to let me know. Together, we might be able to help each other out, you know? I'll start. Today, I drank eight glasses of water. You?

And on that note, I haven't slept in about twenty minutes, so I'm off to bed. I hope you have a lovely day. See you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 15
Subscribers: 53,406
Nail color: I forgot how boring this is when I update it every day.

Tour/VidCon Wrap-Up

2011-08-03T22:43:00.002-04:00

The Situation and I flew from California to Ohio late last night, ending my three-week trip with The ConTour. He's since begun the drive home, which officially rewinds our relationship to "long-distance" status and leaves me alone in jetlagged shambles, not totally sure what day of the week it is. I think it's Wednesday, right? I'd check the upper right corner of my laptop, but I already confused myself that way earlier when I realized I'd forgotten to change the time zone setting. Whatever. I'm here, my bed is comfortable, and I'm willing to exchange knowing when it is for knowing where I am. It's good to be home.

So where did we leave off on the long-winded logs of my travels? Texas, I think. Yeah, we had a series of fun, pleasant and relatively uneventful shows in Dallas, Oklahoma City and Boulder, Colorado. After the first of these, we were lucky enough to meet up with the corresponding summer tours of some of our other friends-- we shared a common hotel with Lauren Fairweather and Matt Maggiacomo as well as Wheezywaiter's band, Driftless Pony Club. I was starting to feel a little coldish/fluish at this point so I didn't get to socialize as much as I'd have liked to, but I always savor the occasions when I get to see long-distance friends more than one time a week. It's almost like being a normal human. (Or how I imagine normal humandom would feel.) Later on in that same week, Alex Carpenter took me to the WORLD'S FIRST CHIPOTLE in Denver, where I had a delicious burrito bol next door to a medical marijuana dispensary. Consider my bucket list shorter.

But hey, if you think not-smoking-weed-in-Colorado is a cultural experience, wait until I tell you about not-gambling-in-Vegas! I'd never been to "Sin City" before, but it certainly was an experience. We used Hotwire to book our hotel from the road and therefore picked where we were staying based on price and rating rather than its name... and that, dear friends, is the story of how I slept at the Las Vegas Hooters. I still can't even type that without laughing out loud! Since I'm not old enough to gamble (an excuse I'm glad I could use because, frankly, gambling seems about as appealing to me as catching fire to a credit card), I spent most of my free time walking around the strip and hanging out in the hotel's pool. At one point, I found myself and some friends in a Hooter's hot tub in the middle of the night, alone but for one heavily-pierced twenty-something, and took it upon myself to educated the stranger on the Harry Potter fandom. After the basic name-exchanging and "Where are you from?"-ing, I declared, "We're in a cult. We're all from different places because we're in a cult." I mean, if you really think about it, is that even a lie?

We moved on from Hooters and drove straight to LA for VidCon. On the drive, I started to notice that my voice was sounding a little hoarse from all the singing, screaming and late nights of tour, but I'd never lost my voice before and so it never occurred to me to worry. I had one fun conversation with a favorite internet friend whom I'd never met IRL before, went to bed optimistic... and woke up entirely mute. And I mean totally incapable of producing any vocal sound whatsoever. I drank gallons of hot tea, I became a jittery cough drop junkie, skipped the first night's big concert in favor of a bath, and still nothing worked. The fates conspired against me and decided that I should lose my ability to talk for the two days out of the year when I most require a voice. LAME. My VidCon experience was made up mostly of mouthing "I've lost my voice-- I'm sorry!" to everyone I encountered, standing inches away from interesting people I admire but having to sigh and walk away, and sitting quietly in corners. Had I not just come off two of the most exciting weeks of my life, I would have been seriously disappointed. But as it was, VidCon was definitely not a highlight of my summer, but I was still too generally enthusiastic to be bummed.

I felt so sick and agitated with my throat that I snuck out quietly on Saturday night without saying goodbye to anyone and, OF COURSE, I regained my voice slowly over the course of Sunday afternoon. The timing would have been hilarious if it didn't suck so bad. Luckily, though, I had a few more days at my friends' house in LA to recuperate and relax. Kristina and I spent several hours conspiring about a project we're going to be conducting this year, so I left Echo Base in a mood good enough to undo the crappiness of my VidCon situation.

AND NOW HERE WE ARE. My flight went smoothly and I'm back home, totally disoriented but totally satisfied with my July. Let me know in the comments if you're one of the people I met at any of the tour stops (or one of the people I waved to/whispered at in the Hyatt!). I can't tell you how cool it is to put real-life faces to usernames I see on a daily basis. You guys are tops. Anyway, I'm sure I'm making less and less sense as this post goes along, so I'll leave it here. I hope you all have a lovely day. See you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 15
Subscribers: 53,314
Nail color: Still that silver Sephora OPI

Blaaaah

2011-08-02T22:05:00.000-04:00

Just a super crappy second channel video to get me through my BEDA requirement on a day of cross-country traveling. I hope you all had a lovely day!

Let's BEDA This Bitch

2011-08-02T01:22:00.005-04:00

I will have you know that I am NOT late for my first post of Blog Every Day in August, as I am in Los Angeles, where 1) I'm in a different time zone, 2) I'm on a couch with Kristina Horner, and 3) oranges grow on trees. All of these things make me exempt from any contempt. I included that sentence mostly for the rhyme.

If you'll remember, I've just finished my three-week adventure with The Contour. I have SO MUCH to tell you guys. Between registering for Pottermore (true!), losing my voice at VidCon (sadly true), and convincing a guy in a Hooters hot tub that I'm in a cult (hilariously true), I have approximately 10,000 blog-worthy stories. My plan is to sprinkle them sparingly throughout the month to avoid those inevitable four-sentence BEDA blogs that both begin and end with apologies. I'm pumped. Are you pumped? I hope you're pumped.

Anyway, I have a very legitimate excuse for ending this quickly, and that excuse is called I'm Watching Jason Munday, Ingrid from Missglamorazzi, Luke Conard, The Situation, Alex Carpenter and Kristina Horner Play Video Games. We'll catch up tomorrow, lovelies. Keep kicking ass.

Chipotle burritos this year: 15
Subscribers: 53,129
Nail color: some silver Sephora OPI whose name escapes me

Where I've Been

2011-07-22T09:02:00.007-04:00

Shhh. We can talk, Blog, but we have to be quiet. It's 8am and I'm the only one awake. I sort of feel like we're at a slumber party, hanging out under a sleeping bag, passing each other stale Cheetos as silently as we can. (...Is that not what you do at slumber parties?)

I'm in a hotel room in Austin, TX, by the way. Long story made short: I hadn't planned on attending LeakyCon because I didn't think I could afford it, but my mother helped me out a bit as an advanced birthday present and I got on the damn plane. I had an amazing time (more on that later) and even made plans to travel two extra days to New Orleans with The Situation and his summer music tour, the ConTour. With my bag packed and flight information ready, it wasn't until the night before I was scheduled to fly home that the whole tour staged an intervention. "So Hayley," said Alex, as in Alex Carpenter, as in The Remus Lupins, "You're staying for the rest of the tour." Considering my bank account, the opinions of my parents, and the amount of clothing I'd packed, I prepared my counterargument. I strongly stated, "There is no way I'm doing that."

...I'm doing that. To a chorus of jeers and cheers and other debauchery, I cancelled my flight. I will now be a roadie for the next week and a half, all the way to VidCon. What is my life?! Below are the highlights from each event up until this point.

LeakyCon Day 1:
After waiting in the airport for a few hours, I met up with my friends Kristina and Eia from The Parselmouths and we got a temporary hotel room with some other Leaky-goers before heading to the conference. After meeting up with my friend Marlena, I got to attend a panel of YA authors reading selections from things they wrote as teenagers. Hilarious. David Levithan read a chapter from a novel he was working on before he came out as gay, in which the male protagonist describes his girl crush as being a skilled pianist and being able to "sing like Streisand." My cheekbones started to hurt from laughing-- I can barely type that line without cracking up, still. Anyway, the rest of Wednesday was filled with reunions and hugging and swimming and room parties until I finally passed out in the early morning. I remember thinking at one point, "If I ever need to cast a Patronus, these memories should do the trick."

LeakyCon Day 2:
We got up early enough to see the first ever screening of Finding Hogwarts, a documentary about the Harry Potter fandom. Despite technical difficulties, it was really beautiful. I don't have the faintest idea what I did for the rest of the afternoon, but that hardly matters because I GOT TO SEE THE LAST HARRY POTTER MOVIE IN AN ADVANCED SCREENING WITH MOST OF MY FRIENDS. As John Green's +1, I was lucky enough to grab a ticket to the theater designated for Leaky staff and special guests, so I watched the final movie in the same room as Team Starkid, the child actors from the Epilogue and The Prince's Tale, and I believe Evanna Lynch, who plays Luna. (I say "I believe" because I didn't actually lay eyes on her in the theater; I made a point not to stare at her, for her sake. We met later on in the week, but that story's just for me. :)) I honestly could not have asked for a more perfect final movie experience. The entire crowd screamed and clapped every time something awesome happened, and I even found myself tearing up as the credits rolled.

As impossible as it sounds, the most fun of the night came in the form of the wizard rock concert. I danced and screamed all throughout sets by my friends Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lauren Fairweather and Ministry of Magic and attempted (though failed) to contain my emotion over the last ever Remus Lupins show. The whole crowd (about 3,000 people) went ALL OUT for this one. I think "Looking for Trouble," Alex's big hit, lasted for around fifteen minutes. Amazing. Hands down, the most fun I've ever had at a concert.

LeakyCon Day 3:
After seeing my good friend Leah kill as Tonks in The Final Battle, a musical written and composed by another friend, Lena Gabrielle, Friday afternoon was spent primarily in the pool with friends, chilling out in preparation for the second huge wizard rock show. The Parselmouths, Gred and Forge, Tonks and the Aurors, Draco and the Malfoys and Harry and the Potters were all awesome, as per usual, but I had the majority of my fun during The Whomping Willows set. Matt's a good friend of mine and that man knows how to make me dance. It was really beautiful how, long after the show was over, tons of people in the crowd kept singing the chorus to a new Willows song. It was like an acapella choir of drunken nerd angels. "We're wizards. We'll party forever. This night will never end."

LeakyCon Day 4:
I went to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park with The Situation and our friend/his drummer, Andy. We had lunch in the Hog's Head-- leek and potato soup! Yum!-- and I bought Ginny Weasley's wand. I happened to meet my crush, Neil Cicierega, who made the Potter Puppet Pals, as we walked in opposite directions around the park. Which was cool. The best part, though, was the incredible ride that simulated flying on a broomstick through different scenery from the Potter universe. I beamed the entire time and couldn't even find words to express how awesome I felt once it was over. I played Quidditch, guys! For real!

But of course, we got back in time for the Esther Earl Rocking Charity Ball-- the sprinkles on top of the best week of my life. I wore a pretty dress and heels and I didn't stop dancing for a single second the entire night. My feet felt like HELL the next day, but I wouldn't change a thing. Well, I might change the fact that the DJs played "Total Eclipse of the Heart" three full times, but.

Disney World
I packed up my stuff and said depressing goodbyes to the whole gang before heading out with The ConTour & co. for my first ever trip to Disney World. I rode the Tower of Terror in Hollywood Studios with The Situation and our friend Sammy, had lunch in Epcot's Japan, got stuck on a broken-down boat ride in "Norway," almost died of excitement on Space Mountain, and had a whole slew of other adventures. The best part of it all? Someone who follows us on twitter was able to get us tickets into the parks FOR FREE. I'm not kidding! What?!

New Orleans
The next day, the tour played a show in Tampa, FL, where I danced around to my favorite Skyway Flyer songs with a lightsaber, before driving all the way to Louisiana. The show that night was teeny tiny, but it was still a good time. We got a super cheap discount on a really gorgeous hotel right in the middle of the action of New Orleans and spent the whole night pursuing the chaotic streets. We even had a balcony outside our rooms! It was awesome. I ate some delicious vegetarian red beans and rice and was sad to see NOLA go.

Austin, TX
And that brings us here. I'm currently coming to you live from Austin, home of the second-best burrito I've ever had and the number-one worst tour experience of all time. Actually, let me rephrase that: worst tour venue experience of all time. The crowd was cool enough to make up for all the crap, but BOY was there crap. First, we found out in the morning that the venue had forgotten to put our tour on their calendar, so they'd scheduled three other bands to perform in the same time slot. Next, these other bands turned out to be really crazy groups of intimidating, screaming men dressed in white jumpsuits and minotaur masks, one of whom walked right up to me and a group of girls wearing DFTBA shirts and Gryffindor ties and sing-screamed in our faces in his sweat-soaked t-shirt. Terrifying. Third, it was approximately a billion katrillion thousand degrees inside. Fourth, the guys who owned the shop were jerks who spent the entire time being completely unhelpful, rude and mocking toward us. FIFTH, and this one's the real kicker-- the power went out. Totally out. One could say that they unplugged us, shut us down, and refused to love us with their steel hearts. It would have been hell, but the ConTour guys pulled through. We finished the show with acoustic guitars in the dark parking lot because, even in the darkest of times, Voldemort can't stop the rock. Sigh.

But you know what, guys? Today is a new day. Once everyone else wakes up, we're heading out to Dallas, where we'll hopefully have a show good enough to undo all of yesterday's notsome. Until then, I'll be hanging out in a car with my fellow merch girl, Sarah Snitch, working on my godforsaken novel, and checking in whenever I get free internet. Check out the tour dates and let me know if I'll be meeting you on my trip! Until then, I hope you have a lovely day. I'll talk to you soon.

Chipotle burritos this year: 13
Subscribers: 52,669
Nail color: Gross. Pinkish. I don't know.

Two Months Later

2011-07-11T22:56:00.002-04:00

It's been two months and I realize this. I also realize that everything I say in this paragraph will be skimmed over, your eyes mid-roll, because this is far from my first apology and will certainly not be my last. Still, I feel obligated to say IT'SNOTYOUIT'SME and to extend my arms. If you want to accept my hug, it's all yours. If you want to pelt me with small objects instead, that's cool too. I get it, I'm sorry, I love you, baby, let's never fight again.

So where did we leave off? I moved out of school in mid-June and was immediately congratulated for a term well-done... with oral surgery. No matter how much I protested, my wisdom teeth were begging to gtfo. It wasn't a horrendous experience pain-wise, but my tiny mouth decided to punish me* by swelling out like a basketball and preventing my jaw from opening fully. I spent a week and a half on an undesired juice fast, unable to part my teeth more than a centimeter. Sigh. #whitegirlproblems

But just as every gay-friendly celebrity will tell you, it gets better. My cheeks shrunk back to their normal size, my fatassery picked back up where it left off, and I've had some very fun post-recovery days. The Situation came over for the week leading up to his current tour, and we went for walks, made completely inane internet projects solely for our own amusement, and visited the Cleveland zoo. I even got to drag him to my extended family's annual Fourth of July party where the main topics of conversation ranged from how friggin' pregnant my sister and brother-in-law are getting**, to how much abuse my brother takes from the little cousins, to cupcakes. Party in the USA.

I also spent the 4th and its surrounding weekend with The Situation's tourmates (friends of mine, as well), Alex Carpenter, Jason Munday, Christian Caldeira and his girlfriend, Kelly. I put aside my strong aversion to pokey objects in the vicinity of my eyes just long enough to play with sparklers, and to the great amusement of my boyfriend, managed to paint the fingernails of a sleeping Jason. Oh, youth.

I'd like to lie and tell you that more has happened since we last spoke, but unless you want to hear long, detailed descriptions of... watching Nancy Grace cover the Casey Anthony trial... with my mother... every single night... I've got nothing. So far, the summer has been devoted entirely to nursing my sore mouth, screaming things like "HOW CAN THEY IGNORE THE TRACES OF CHLOROFORM?!" at Anderson Cooper's dreamy eyes, and working on this godforsaken novel of mine. The current goal is to have a solid, decent draft by the time my sister passes a human child through her legs. I'm racing a baby. A Book Before the Birth. I was going to come up with another quirky way of phrasing that, but besides realizing that "librarian" rhymes with "cesarean," I'm fresh out of ideas. Shut up. It's late.

Anyway, I leave tomorrow evening for LeakyCon, where I'll hopefully meet a whole slew of you. If we do cross paths, be prepared to high-five a stranger, because you really don't have a choice in the matter. If we don't get to chill in person this week, however, try not to be too bummed-- I've had to stay home while all my friends attended Potter conferences in the past, and it majorly sucks, but you're still freaking top-notch in my book. Here, have a high-five in typographic form: ^5.*** You guys all kick ass. And now I sleep. Goodnight!

Chipotle burritos this year: um... 13?
Subscribers: 52,245
Nail color: a pale pink OPI
Miles run today: 1

*As if I'm not already punished enough as it is-- damn you, Angelina Jolie, for making full lips a beauty requirement.
**He's showing less than she is, though.
***Sorry, Karen Kavett-- I can't say I'm positive what the word "typographic" actually means.

Shake Dat Ass

2011-05-11T22:08:00.000-04:00

I am positively drenched in sweat. So much so that sitting on the edge of my bed right now feels like a health code violation. I want desperately to be in the shower, singing Moaning Myrtles songs and scrubbing remnants of my three-mile run off with a loofah, so excuse the rushed tone of this post. I just wanted to get something off my chest.*

Remember last month, when I recounted a tale from my day in which a group of idiot guys harassed me on the street corner? A similar thing happened tonight, but where I'd been slightly off-put the other week, I am flat-out angry this time around.

I was walking to the gym, and while I used a crosswalk in front of an idling car, the three moronic college guys inside took it upon themselves to make me feel as awkward as possible in the span of about thirty seconds. One yelled, "Hey girl, what's up?" while another advised me to "shake dat ass." Harmless enough. Almost flattering, even. But then the remaining boy shouted... something else... which I've just typed and then erased. It wasn't the most vile thing I've ever heard, but I don't really feel comfortable repeating it verbatim. Basically, it was a graphic sexual remark that went a little beyond silly catcalling, to the point that I was embarrassed. I felt that odd nervous sinking feeling in my chest, muttered "Classy" under my breath, and looked around to see if anyone else on the sidewalk had been listening. One guy made eye contact with me but then immediately began speaking Spanish to his friend, so I don't think strangers really witnessed my uncomfortable encounter. Still, I had those inevitable split-second thoughts: Is everyone staring at my body now? Should I not be walking even this short semi-public distance alone after dark? There were three of them and I weigh 125 pounds; if they wanted to cause harm to me, they could.

There were plenty of people within earshot (including an entire beach volleyball game), and the car drove away before I could even see their faces, so there wasn't any realistic physical threat being made to me. But nevertheless, I had to feel uncomfortable for that moment, and I didn't do a single thing to deserve it!

You might wonder why I'm even bothering to tell this story, since I posted a similar one recently, and these sorts of things happen to most women at one time or another. Well, that's precisely why I feel compelled to say something. If we keep treating incidents like this as if they're all the same, all just a part of life, you know, "boys will be boys," we're indirectly allowing these moments to keep happening. I'm not just going to brush it off and continue with my day when those boys caused me a kind of nervousness that I will never be able to cause them. It's unfair, it's bullshit, and it's not okay. Who's with me?!

*Deep breath.* And now I shower.

Chipotle burritos this year: 8
Subscribers: 49,691
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet n Wild
Miles run today: 3

*Lol. I said "Get something off my chest" in the figurative sense, right after expressing the desire to literally get sweat off my chest. ...Lol.

10 Things I Love About My Mom

2011-05-08T18:50:00.008-04:00

In the spirit of Mother's Day, ten things I love about my mom:

She taught me to strive for natural and inner beauty by placing more importance on my brain, heart and relationships than on my hair, makeup and clothes.
She's an incredibly giving, supportive and unselfish wife, providing me with a positive example of a healthy, working marriage.
On numerous occasions, she's driven several hours out of state to support my erratic lifestyle. Picking me up from Niagara Falls so I wouldn't miss the Deathly Hallows release, taking me to Michigan to meet a favorite author, driving me halfway to the long-distance boyfriend's house... my mom goes way beyond the call of duty. Especially for such a horrible driver.
Her lasagna is amazing.
She's selflessly devoted the vast majority of her life to taking care of (and worrying endlessly about) myself and my siblings.
Even though we harass her about it, I love how she is still utterly incapable of telling a joke without cracking up before she can reveal the punchline.
She allows me (encourages me, even) to blow thousands upon thousands of dollars on a Creative Writing degree, to wear costumes on the internet, and to invite people from around the world to sleep in our guest room.
Her kindness, open-mindedness, sensitivity and pure intentions always come to mind when I'm tempted to judge another person.
The woman can totally rock a cardigan.
I know for sure that there is nothing I could do, say, or be that would change the way she loves me.

Whether you have a mother, are a mother, or just know and love one somewhere, I hope you have a lovely Mother's Day!

Chipotle burritos this year: 8
Subscribers: 49,571
Nail color: Bare
Miles run today: 1

P.S. Two new videos since my last post! Check them out here and here.

Sloppy "Drunk" Goodbye

2011-04-30T21:19:00.003-04:00

Leave it to me to have a perfect posting record for the entirety of BEDA... and then fall asleep on the couch watching MacGyrver (hottie, btw) and not manage to get anything up on the second-to-last day. To make up for yesterday, here. The Situation and I went for a hike around some beautiful waterfalls, and now you can pretend you were there. Put it in your scrapbook, tell all your friends. Or, like, don't.

Anyway, here we are. April 30th. I had a great time reading your comments, coming up with stupid jokes, and just interacting with you guys over the course of the month. I know I say this every year, but I'm going to put forth more effort to update regularly on non-BEDA months, too. Even when I have to dig and scrape for anyfreakingthing to say, I think it's beneficial for me to write something for an audience on a frequent basis. And, of course, there could not be a better audience than this one. So many of you stand by me even when you disagree with my opinions, so many of you laugh even when my jokes aren't funny, and every one of you contributes to making me feel great about myself... I know I sound sappy, but I am so, so, so sincerely grateful for this community. (I just reread this paragraph and it sort of sounds like the overly drunk girl at the party who's holding a glass of wine and keeps leaning into everybody and yelling things like, "No, no, listen to me! You're my best friend.") But believe me. I love you guys.

The winner of Thursday's haiku contest (although toastburntbread has pointed out that a true haiku is about nature, and therefore my post was written in senyru) has to be Aimee, whose poem made me laugh out loud:

Refrigerator
Stupid word, where is your D?
You are hard to spell.

Nice. But don't be distraught just because Aimee wins the nonexistent prize-- I was legitimately loving every second of that comment thread. All the rest of you get honorable mentions. Maybe we need to make haiku posts and comments a monthly holiday. I am a fan.

But you know what else I'm a fan of? Shoving food in my face. As soon as the credits of The Lion King are over, The Situation and I are going to tend to the situation of my hunger... situation. This reflective background music (while, granted, about lions) is sort of making me feel depressed about the fact that this is the last paragraph of BEDA. If I were that drunk wine girl at the party, now I'd be sobbing with running mascara dripping into my open mouth. It's been fun, guys. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you later this week!

Chipotle burritos this year: 7
Subscribers: 49,228
Nail color: Bare
Miles run today: 0, but I played with sidewalk chalk?

Haiku 4 U

2011-04-28T23:38:00.002-04:00

Very tired, guys
Not too tired to blog, but
Will just use haiku.

Long-distance boyfriend
Hanging with him this weekend
Leaving tomorrow.

Cold, rainy weather
Where he lives, but I do it
Willingly for love.

Sorry for making
You puke from my sappiness.
Please forgive my spew.

Wiped out from writing
A very long short story
For class on Gay Lit.

It is difficult
And it's gay. Like Santana.
Last Glee joke ever.

My story is fun
But stressing me majorly
Maybe I'll post it.

Must go fall asleep
With mouth open on pillow.
Art is tiring.

(That may not be true
But if we say so often,
They'll call it a job.)

If you have comments
There is one rule to follow:
Write them in haiku.

Five syllables then
Seven syllables and then
End with five again.

Don't care what about
But the funniest one wins
Invisible prize.

(The prize is not real.)
Parentheticals in poems
Amuse me too much.

Four minutes till twelve
Looks like we made it on time.
I must say goodnight.

I hope your day is
Lovely and I'll see you guys
Tomorrow! Pizza.

Chipotle burritos this year: 8 (I tried to round down and people asked how I lost half a burrito, so we're rounding up.)
Subscribers: 49,165
Nail color: Bare
Miles run today: -3 (+one cake)

5 Amusing Things

2011-04-27T22:59:00.003-04:00

Five things to amuse you tonight:

1. Bread turtle. I found this little guy somewhere on the internet (sorry, original creator-- I don't know who to credit) and thought you needed to see him.

2. The first trailer for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 was released today. It's up to you whether or not you're ready to watch it, but I'm interested to hear your thoughts if you've seen it!

3. A picture of me at, what, five years old? Compliments of my mother. Enjoy.

4. I heard today that, apparently, ten people are killed each year by vending machines? I have absolutely no confidence that this is real, but I still appreciate the fact that someone made the rumor up. I hope none of you have been personally affected by vending machine massacres. My thoughts are with your family.

5. An old favorite video. Try not to be overcome with adoration for the adorable.

I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 7
Subscribers: 49,132
Nail color: Rainbow

I like your boobs!

2011-04-26T23:20:00.005-04:00

Today, I was sexually harassed while leaving Women's Studies.

I was walking back to my building, frumpily donning an unbuttoned rain coat, holding a Chipotle bag in one hand and cup of water in the other, when I overheard a group of college-age boys laughing and hooting from the street corner. "Dude, does your mom know you're a virgin?" one asked, with much tact and class. Called one of his partners-in-buffoonery, "Try your luck with this girl." As I approached their group (conveniently located right next to the crosswalk), a freckled boy walked up to me, laughing. I looked at him uneasily and through his chuckles, he said, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

Right on time, I get a Do Not Walk symbol. Sighing, I looked back at the idiot and responded with a firm "No." A chorus of hysterical laughter broke out among his cohorts. One of the aggressors who suggested this game then yelled, "Try harder! Tell her she's sexy!" and for good measure, another friend shouted, "Yeah, tell her she's sexy!"

He obliged, I groaned in disgust, and I was finally able to cross the street. However, as I walked away to the sounds of whistles, indistinguishable yelling, and "Tell her you like her boobs!"; "I LIKE YOUR BOOBS!" I sort of wanted to vomit.

Tell me, how is this okay? True, nobody tried to touch me, and by college standards "they were just joking," but why should I have to feel uncomfortable and self-conscious at the hand of insecure twenty-something-year-old imbeciles? How can someone graduate middle school without a basic sense of what you can and cannot say to random strangers by the crosswalk?

I'm not posting this for pity-- nothing really happened, and if it weren't for the fact that I'm typing the story up now, I would forget all about it by Thursday-- but I just felt compelled to show a little civil disobedience towards an aspect of society that doesn't work for me. I didn't risk my hand at chewing out that group of guys right there in public, but I'm making my voice heard now:

It is unacceptable for anyone-- man, boy, or even other female-- to harass a girl or woman about her body or sexuality for any reason whatsoever. I don't care if it's a joke, if it isn't meant to be overheard, if it's in private... it is never okay.

So, freckly faced guy with the crappy friends, if you're reading this (you are not), I hope you can at least sleep well tonight knowing that, so long as you keep up the good work, nobody is going to be clamoring for that virginity of yours anytime soon. Grow a backbone, find some new friends, and, oh, you're disgusting.

Sincerely, The Badass Behind the Boobs

Chipotle burritos this year: 7.5
Subscribers: 49,078
Nail color: Rainbow (one color per finger)
Miles run today: 2

P.S. Nelamonster: raspberry with cranberry.

Giving In, Nomming

2011-04-25T21:11:00.002-04:00

So here's the deal, kids. I'm hungry. I have a pounding headache. For twenty-five days, I have proven that I am capable of forsaking my one true love in this world, when all it's ever done is comfort and support me. Through experimentation, I can conclude that I do not have any milk allergies. Through this project, I have exhibited astounding self-control. By the power vested in twitter, I am about to eat some godforsaken pizza.

That's right-- the Dairy-Free Tribulations of April are coming to a close five days early. I put it to a vote on my twitter account, and within the first two minutes, I received over seventy responses-- about sixty-five of them encouraging me to throw in the towel and throw down the mozzarella. I know it sounds wimpy to some of you, but here are my excuses:

The goal of this challenge was to see how dairy affects me. I discovered early on that, since I don't feel MIRACULOUSLY DIFFERENT or anything, my body probably doesn't have any problems with milk products. I doubt the next five days will reveal to me a nagging allergy that went unnoticed the rest of my life.
I've successfully weened myself off my cheese addiction. I had your permission to eat whatever I wanted on Easter Sunday (so as not to be rude to those who prepared the meal) and when I had a plate of cheese offered to me, I didn't want any. That's right. I am now capable of saying no to cheese, so there's no harm in saying yes occasionally. Giving up early is not so much a failure as it is the beginning of a life of moderation.
I'm going to The Situation's house this weekend and I refuse to be the guest who only nibbles on a lettuce leaf. And if my boyfriend-- the one I haven't seen in weeks-- wants to buy couples' brownie sundaes? I am eating a brownie sundae.
I find vegan and dairy-free diets very admirable, but it looks like it's not my thing. I've been a vegetarian my whole life, so it's not like I'm refusing to stand up for my beliefs. I am perfectly okay with abstaining from creamy salad dressing, milk chocolate, and most ice cream. Having pizza when I'm DYING FOR PIZZA is not a crime.
I want to.

So that's that. I'll be documenting my rebirth as a lactarian on annoyinghayley, and promise to give you every delightful detail. I hope you all have a lovely day (I am extremely confident that I will!) and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 6.5
Subscribers: 49,034
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 0. Headache, remember?

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T22:46:00.002-04:00

Family time, food, and seeing my best friend in the world for the first time in eight months has left me speechless. I had a fantastic day and I hope you're all doing well! Back to normal programming tomorrow. Goodnight!

Handwritten Almost-Easter!

2011-04-23T23:07:00.001-04:00

Click the pictures to see them larger!

A Day of Good

2011-04-22T23:24:00.005-04:00

Twenty minutes left in the day and about six minutes left of battery life on my computer, but dammit, I am a champion. This blog post is going up.

Today was utterly beautiful. Panera for lunch with Mom, Water For Elephants with my sisters, vegan chocolate chip cookies (verdict: taste about the same, but the consistency was somewhat dogfoody), hangout time with all my siblings, Deathly Hallows Part 1 on DVD. I set a date to have my wisdom teeth taken out, was hit on by a cute guy, and several pairs of pants in my usual size fell straight off of me from having lost weight. I just feel totally relaxed and happy and good. Not "good" as in "I can't think of any better way to say it," but "good" as in the denotative definition of the word. My day was good, my family is good, my life is good. (It is only occurring to me now, in my quick read-through before hitting "publish," that today is also Good Friday. I shall henceforth pretend that the content of this paragraph was intentional and that I am very subtle and wordsmithian.)

I did find time to read your comments on yesterday's post, and guys, I've gotta say-- not many of you are talented enough to hang out with my eyes. Those of us with perfect color accuracy, though, should make membership cards or something. "I can see better than you can see and everyone can see why that makes me amazing." Or... we can negotiate on the slogan when I'm not falling asleep.

Anyway, I hate to blog and dash, but the little yo-computer-bout-to-die meter is turning red. It's not up to me anymore.* As Dumbledore said, "It is our choices that show us what we truly are, far more than our abilities." And right now, I'm learning that who I truly am is someone who's tired so shut up you guys leave me alone goodnight. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 6.5
Subscribers: 48,929
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 0

*What? Are you suggesting that I walk ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAIRS to fetch my power cord? Are you crazy?!

SUPERCOLORVISION!

2011-04-21T22:57:00.003-04:00

Having just finished the several-hour drive from school to home, I'm finally at my kitchen counter, both my parents within reach, drinking hot tea out of a cup that isn't styrofoam. Also, my internet connection isn't being dramatically slowed due to some kid on the second floor illegally downloading four hours' worth of porn. Ahh, the simple pleasures of escaping the dormitory lifestyle. It's only for three days, but I'm determined to soak up every second.

Yesterday's discussion reminded me, once again, of how lucky I am to have such interesting people read my blog. Honestly. I spent quite some time reading comments both on my own post and on Kayley's, and I really enjoyed hearing what you had to say. The majority of commenters seemed to agree with me-- believing that scheduled time each day for creative projects does more good than harm-- but those on the opposite team had some decent points, too. I've decided that the best way to settle this debate is to... only update daily during Aprils and Augusts. I know, I know. I am a genius.

I love the days when this blog works out as a two-way discussion, and to keep the momentum up, I have another quest for you guys today. There's this test going around Tumblr to determine how well you see colors. It takes a few minutes (I think I spent around ten or fifteen), but it's pretty fun... and the fact that I received a PERFECT SCORE kind of makes me feel like I have superpowers, if we're being honest. Some can bend steel, some can fight crime, some can... do whatever it is that Aquaman does... but I can SEE. It's really rather empowering, and I would be remiss to deny you the possibility of being as spectacular as I am. You can take the test here, and I fully expect you to comment with your scores. And I mean that. Or else you'll never be invited to mine and Aquaman's parties!

To avoid the inevitable "YOU CAN'T PROVE THAT YOU GOT A PERFECT SCORE" jeers, I screenshotted my victory below. So you can, as they say in the professional-perfect-color-vision-people business, suck it.

On that note, I've got a date with my queen-sized bed. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 6.5
Subscribers: 48,890
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 2

Pushing Yourself vs. Pushing Out Junk

2011-04-20T21:30:00.005-04:00

Hello, my ducklings. First and foremost, it was awesome getting to talk to a handful of you tonight on my spontaneous live broadcast. I love getting the chance to interact with screennames I always see around the internet, learning people's real names, forming inside jokes. I don't do many BlogTV shows because sometimes they feel like a culmination of all the negative, narcissistic qualities of the youtube community ("Come stare at my face while I eat salsa and ramble about my favorite TV shows! You owe it to me!"), but those of you in attendance? You made it fun. I asked for ideas for tonight's post, and Julieuh (among others) suggested that I draw a picture of the show. So are you sitting down? Because this is a flipping masterpiece.

Guys, guys! Get a grip! I know you're tearing up from its beauty, and that's fine, but stop trying to throw money and roses at your computer screen! Pick those up and pull yourself together. Are you alright? Alright.

I want to have a little discussion. My good friend and fellow fiveawesomegirl, Kayley, recently updated her blog with an interesting post about Blog/Vlog Every Day in April, National Novel Writing Month, and forced, scheduled creativity. The basic gist of her post is that she finds these sort of monthly challenges annoying, as oftentimes, quality is sacrificed in the name of quantity. I absolutely agree with her in some ways-- for instance, I rarely choose to publish "Today I did this and this and this"-type material during months other than April and August, but occasionally have no other choice when it comes to BEDA-- and I find her opinion totally valid. During the three-year run of fiveawesomegirls, there were some days when I couldn't wait to get in front of my camera, and others when the idea of Thursday made me sick and agitated (I have to do this again?). However, I've also noticed that the extra push and pressure provided by a time constraint and a goal can shake loose a lot of ideas I might not have explored otherwise. The challenge of having nothing to talk about has produced what are, arguably, my three favorites of my own videos (this, this and this). Staring at a blank document without an idea in sight really inspires me to find something funny or clever to make out of nothing. While Kayley is totally justified in thinking that BEDA churns out a lot of crap-- my own blog has seen quite a few crap splatters this month-- it's also a pretty beneficial workout regimen for me, creatively.

So what do you guys think? Does allotting time every day specifically for creation help you stretch your muscles, or does going through the motions just make your motions sloppier? I know my own answer is "both," but I'm curious as to how other people work. I'll be checking my own comments (of course), but I'll be reading the responses to Kayley's blog, as well, if you want to add something to the original discussion over there. I'm looking forward, as always, to hearing your input, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 6.5
Subscribers: 48,850
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 1

Oh, and one last quick note: On April 1st, when I explained the rules of my dairy-free challenge, I mentioned that I'd put the race on hold in the event that it greatly inconvenienced other people, like if someone invited me over for dinner, or if I was out with people and couldn't find anything to order that fit my specifications. Well, I'm going home this weekend for Easter, and it occurred to me today that turning down my grandma's famous holiday cupcakes would be both rude and a TRAGEDY. So I think, in the name of Grandma, Jesus Christ, the Easter Bunny, and vanilla cake with pink frosting, this Sunday will be a freebie. All those in favor, say "aye." All those opposed, I don't really care.

P.P.S. Breakfast: Kashi cereal with soy milk. Lunch: Pasta with marinara, strawberries, carrot sticks. Dinner: ...Chips and salsa. Some Oreos. A piece of chocolate. Don't judge me.

Winners, rice bags, rain...

2011-04-19T21:27:00.003-04:00

So far, yesterday's post has over 90 responses, and I have to say-- I never thought reading hundreds of punchlines to the same jokes could be so entertaining! A lot of you made me laugh out loud with your answers, and the eclectic range of musical tastes between us was hilarious on its own. Honorable mentions go to Miranda's iPod, because "Like a Prayer" seems like a totally appropriate zombie-killing jam to me, and to an anonymous commenter whose overall theme music was, all too perfectly, NSYNC's "Tearin' Up My Heart." However, there can only be one winner, and the glorious prize of... absolutely nothing... goes to beangirl1389! Her whole playlist was made up of bouncy, fun-loving poppy songs that have absolutely no place in a zombie apocalypse, and I actually cracked up when I read that the song she'd hear while discovering a bite mark on her body is "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Perfection. I'll have to find another game of a similar nature for us to play later on-- if you find anything floating around the internet that could potentially produce some lols, let me know. Thanks to JulGra for yesterday's suggestion!

Besides beating off the undead with machetes, my day was pretty low-key. My French test came back with a C on it, I got hit on by a guy wearing pleather pants outside a coffee shop, and I started a giant writing project. We also had this horrendously loud thunderstorm last night, waking me up several times convinced I was being bombed, and a substantial amount of water leaked through my window and left many of my roommate's possessions (laptop included) in a giant puddle. Right now, I'm watching as she takes it apart and places each piece in a ziploc bag full of rice. That's supposedly going to dry it out without ruining anything, provided she does it right. Ah-- now she's just putting the computer in the bag, whole. "I don't know how long I should keep it in here," she says. And... and now she's taking it back out. Do any of you know how to remedy the situation? What size pieces is she supposed to divide it into? Are they supposed to stay in the rice for longer than 45 seconds? Something tells me yes.

Anyway, I've gotta keep things short tonight so I can keep powering through a big writing project I was just assigned. My professor is the somewhat flighty, open-ended type and his only instructions were to "Write something, like a long short story, or some poems, or a novella, or a personal essay... anywhere around, I don't know, six or a hundred pages." So. I'm running with it. I might come back to ask you guys for ideas or suggestions later this week. We'll see how it goes. Until then, I hope you have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 6.5
Subscribers: 48,801
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: I really didn't have any time this evening. Blah; I'm hyper.

P.S. Breakfast was orange juice, Kashi cereal, an apple. Lunch/dinner was a heaping bowl of Chipotle, featured in its spectacular glory right here and here.

Zombie Apocalypse Game

2011-04-18T21:30:00.004-04:00

First order of business: Thank you for all your encouragement and sweet comments in regards to my French in yesterday's post. Knowing so many of you could make sense of my iffy translations really boosted my confidence for my test! I'm not sure how I did yet; I'll get back to you. But hey, even if I got a D, I had proficient French-speakers tell me my writing "wasn't horrible" and that's enough praise to make me smile.

Order of business number two: I did a little bit of research today and found out that cow's milk actually contains addictive substances, which proves that 1) cheeseaholism might be real, 2) all my whining isn't necessarily unjustified, and 3) I'm probably doing my body a real favor by taking on this challenge. A few sources recommended a three-week detox from dairy and claimed that the cravings should subside after 21 days. If this is true, I'll be free from the gooey clenches of mozzarella by Friday. ...I doubt it's true. But I'm holding out hope.

But enough of that boring stuff. LET'S PLAY A GAME.

This idea comes to you from commenter JulGra-- it's "My Zombie Apocalypse Soundtrack!" According to the rules, I have to put my iPod on shuffle to determine my fate. I expect each and every one of you (who feels like it) to play along and leave your answers in the comments, especially if they're amusing.

1. The overall theme for the apocalypse:
"F*** You" by Cee Lo Green. Makes sense.

2. The song that plays when I kill my first zombie:
"Hey Molly" by Mike Lombardo. This one's pretty obvious.

3. The song that plays while I'm being chased by a horde:
"The Hokey Pokey" from Ultimate Party Mix. LOL. Zombie Apocalypses have a lot in common with middle school parties at the roller skating rink. Also, how is there a proper plural for "apocalypse?" Isn't the point of an apocalypse that it's... the only one?

4. When I kill my loved one:
"Funny Honey" from Chicago. I mean, Roxie's pretty angry at this point, so it's reasonable.

5. When I find a group of survivors:
"Secret" by Maroon 5. Ah yes, because my natural reaction upon discovering human life after having lost all hope is to make out in a car.

6. When I meet my new love interest:
"Life's What You Make It" by Hannah Montana. Don't judge.

7. When I make my final stand:
"Mutha'uckas" by Flight of the Conchords. "He's gonna wake up in a smoothie."

8. When I think I've survived it all:
"It's Not Half Bad" by The Parselmouths. This doesn't really fit the scenario, but it's still my favorite jam from the olden days, so I'm content.

9. When I discover a bite mark on me:
"Thinking of You" by Katy Perry. Hmm. Alright.

10. The song during the end credits:
"Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard featuring Why The Hell Is This On My iPod. Still, I can't think of a more appropriate end-of-the-battle song, can you?

Is your iPod more entertaining than mine? Leave me a comment and I'll decide whose is funniest. (You don't win anything, though, because this won't be your accomplishment; it'll be your iPod's. Don't you dare try to steal his thunder after all he puts up with for you.) I'm looking forward to reading your responses! I'll see you guys tomorrow.

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5*
Subscribers: 48,775
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: None

*And to those asking, no, I didn't eat HALF a burritos. I got a bowl full of just beans and salsa and I ate it with chips. It was big enough to go into the burrito category (since I could bowls as burritos, too), but not hefty enough to warrant a whole number.

P.S. Breakfast: Green Machine Naked Juice, zucchini bread. Lunch: salad, honeydew, banana. Dinner: noodles with marinara sauce. Dessert: more of those nastydelicious Reese's Puffs cereal.

I try to blog in French.

2011-04-17T20:28:00.002-04:00

Bonjour ! Demain, j’ai un examen dans ma classe de français. Je besoin étudier beaucoup, parce que mes compétences de langue terminent avec l’anglais. Il y a probablement dix erreurs dans ce paragraphe. Mais, j’ai déjà besoin d’écrire un blog, donc je fais deux oiseaux morts avec une pierre. (Si le français est votre langue maternelle, j’espère que vous n’êtes pas mort à cause de cette traduction horrible.)

Hier soir, j'ai regardé le film Tangled avec mes amis. Je ne l’ai pas détesté, mais je ne possède pas le même amour pour Disney qui la plupart des gens que mon âge a. (Pouvez-vous terminer une phrase comme ça ? Il n'apparaît pas correct.) Avez-vous vu le film ? Vous l'aimez ? PJ dit que Rapunzel a l’air de moi. Je pense que il est fou. Je n’ai pas les taches de rousseur, je n’ai pas les yeux énormes, et bien sûr, mes cheveux ne sont pas longs de quinze mètres. Carina dit que l'homme a l'air de La Situation, mais mes amis savent n’importe quoi. La Situation est identique à Prince Eric de The Little Mermaid. C’est évident.

Pour le petit déjeuner, j'ai mangé le pain perdu, les fraises et une banane. Pour le déjeuner et le dîner, j'ai mangé beaucoup de céréale. Voulez-vous entendre un secret stupéfiant ? Les Reese’s Puffs ne sont pas faits avec le lait ! Je ne les ai pas mangé puisque j'avais huit ans, et ils causent probablement l'obésité, mais ils sont comme les bonbons ! Je les ai mangés au dessert. Délicieux !

Aussi, j'ai des nouvelles. Ce mois, j’ai perdu cinq livres. Je me plains trop. Les bonnes choses arrivent sans le fromage. J'ai plus d'énergie, et j’aime courir quand j’ai mangé des nourritures saines. Aujourd’hui, j’ai couru trois miles ! L’enfer ouais !

Je dois étudier maintenant. J'espère que vous avez un beau jour et je vous verrai demain !

And for the rest of you:

Hello! Tomorrow, I have a test in my French class. I need to study a lot, because my language skills end with English. There are probably ten mistakes in this paragraph. But I already need to write a blog, so I am making two birds dead with one stone. (If French is your native language, I hope you are not dead from that horrible translation.)

Last night, I watched the movie Tangled with my friends. I did not hate it, but I don't possess the same love for Disney that most people my age have. (Can you end a sentence like that? It doesn't look right.) Have you seen that movie? Did you like it? PJ says that Rapunzel looks like me. I think he's crazy. I don't have freckles, I don't have huge eyes, and of course, my hair isn't fifteen meters long. Carina says that the guy looks like The Situation, but my friends don't know anything. The Situation is identical to Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. It's obvious.

For breakfast, I ate French toast, strawberries and a banana. For lunch and dinner, I ate a ton of cereal. Do you want to hear an amazing surprise? Reese's Puffs aren't made with milk! I haven't had them since I was eight, and they probably cause obesity, but they're exactly like the candy. I ate them for dessert. Delicious!

Also, I have some news. This month, I've lost five pounds. I complain too much. Good things happen without cheese. I have more energy, and I love running when I've eaten healthy food. Today, I ran three miles! Hell yeah!

I have to study now. I hope you have an attractive day* and I'll see you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5
Subscribers:
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 3

*I tried. "Lovely" isn't in my French vocabulary.

What I'd Do For Cheese

2011-04-16T19:42:00.002-04:00

Having passed the halfway mark in my quest to go cheeseless for the month of April, you'd think it would be smooth sailing. You'd think I wouldn't be clutching my stomach with my nontyping hand, flailing back and forth, screaming, "I WANT A PIZZA!" to anyone who'll listen. But dairy is an addiction, my friends, and I am a bona fide junkie. I'm like one of those ladies from Hoarders who can't sleep unless she's surrounded by 4,036 ashtrays. I'm like Mimi Marquez. Guys, I'm like Chocolate Boy. Because I can't think about anything else, the rest of this post will consist of an alphabetical acrostic... of things I would do for dairy products.

A: I would attend AA if they'd give me American cheese.
B: I would box a bear for a bag of bonbons.
C: I would cuddle a crocodile for a chocolate brownie.
D: I would dance for the devil if he'd give me a doughnut.
E: I would eat eggshells if I could then eat everything creamy.
F: I would fight a falcon for a funnel cake.
G: I would go to Guatemala if they had goat cheese on the plane.
H: I would hit Hayley Hoover for a hot chocolate.
I: I would imitate Enrique Iglesias for ice cream.
J: I would jump Jeremy Jackson for any reason, but especially for jack cheese.
K: I would watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians for Hershey's kisses.
L: I would lick Lindsay Lohan for a lot of lasagna.
M: I would make out with Marky Mark for mozzarella sticks.
N: I would nail my nails to night stand for nachos.
O: I would own Oprah in an oboe-playing competition for oatmeal cookies.
P: I WOULD POST THIS PURPOSEFULLY POINTLESS BLOG FOR A PIZZA.
Q: I would quit quilting (I do not quilt) for a quiche.
R: I would race Rachel Ray if she'd make me Rice Krispies treats.
S: I would scream at a scorpion if he'd buy me sour cream.
T: I would take out Tina Turner for Taco Bell.
U: I would expose myself to UV if... U would let me have cheese.
V: I would vow against vacations for a vanilla cake.
W: I would watch only Willy Wonka for a week straight in exchange for whipped cream.
X: I xould do othex stuxf that starx xith x's for xheese.
Y: I would yodel with Yo-Yo Ma for yogurt.
Z: I would zeriously do zo much for cheezez right nowz.

That... took way too long and was definitely not worth it. Anyway, now I have to go bang my head into the wall repeatedly. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5
Subscribers: 48,690
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 0

P.S. Breakfast was a carton of strawberries, lunch was a big sandwich, dinner was spaghetti.

Good Youtube! Oreos! Etc!

2011-04-15T20:34:00.003-04:00

I'm going to let you in on a secret. I'm warning you, though, that you may need to sit down. Or stop reading if you're under eighteen (not really). Things are about to get super racy. Are you ready? All I'm wearing is a towel.

...Are you still there? Does anyone need a defibrillator? I'm sorry! I just showered after running four miles, I'm trying not to keep a friend I have plans with waiting, and I thought being partially naked would speed up the blogging process. If you're scandalized, I apologize. Think of something wholesome! Here, have a picture of a duck. Ducks are cute and family-friendly! I met that particular one at Playlist Live, when he waddled right up to my friends at the side of the pool. Crap. Now you're picturing a bathing suit-clad Luke Conard and all hope is lost.

Anyway, since I (once again) don't have a world of time, I thought I'd keep with yesterday's list-making theme and link you guys to my current favorite youtube channels. I've made lists of this sort in the past, but youtube changes faster than a character's personality on Glee, so it's always fun to update the catalogue. Below are my top five ATM, and a favorite video from each.

5. Friendswobenefits. With 2,000 subscribers, he's certainly not unpopular, but I still can't comprehend how Chas hasn't yet been properly recognized for kicking so much ass. He's witty, he's charming, he doesn't beat you over the head with self-promotion or gimmicks, and ladies, he's cute. Just as a random sample, watch this. In love yet? Thought so.

4. SonofaStitch. It's perhaps lame for me to say this since he's one of my best friends... but PJ is hysterical and he spits out some freaking top-notch youtube videos. You know the way normal people might occasionally say something clever and you think, "Oh, I should write that down or tweet it or something!" That's what comes out of PJ's mouth every single time it opens. To further demonstrate my lack of bias, I'll link you to this one because I'm mentioned in it. But also because it's worth it.

3. Babyporridge. If you're like me and long for the days when youtube was ruled by real-life creativity and not just a caste system of douchebaggery, watch five minutes of Nikki and you'll feel so 2007, you won't even remember who Lady Gaga is. Nikki's unique, she's quirky, and her videos somehow feel like you're watching a combination between a drug trip and a child prodigy's self-produced living room talent show. Here's an example.

2. Tyleroakley. It's extremely unlikely that I'm the first person to introduce you to this little walking ball of stardom, but in the event you've been left in the dark, do yourself a favor and acquaint yourself with Tyler. He's always funny, always sassy, and does a ton of good work for the gay community. Here's one that gets me every time.

1. Communitychannel. Again, I guarantee you've seen her before, but frankly, I don't think it's possible to see too much of her. Natalie does everything I wish I could do. She makes the absolute most of the medium, she makes "your mom" jokes, and she makes my abs more defined from laughing. This is my personal favorite, even though that's like saying I have a favorite kind of... something... that's always good. I don't know, guys, shut up. Go watch Nat.

So hopefully those will entertain you! My friend is now on the end of my bed, giving me a play-by-play recap of some made-for-TV Hilary Duff movie, so I've gotta go. Very important business. Quickly: PB&J for breakfast, smoothie and pretzels with hummus for lunch, um, DEFINITELY NOT THIS for dinner. Carina maintains, "Oreos aren't BAD for you. They're vegan." She then goes on to say, "I'm getting a doughnut. I'm so pumped." You can see why she's my friend and why I have to go.

I hope you all have a lovely day and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5
Subscribers: 48,651
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 4

Things That Are Always Funny

2011-04-14T23:29:00.004-04:00

I finished an important paper for class mere seconds ago, and I still owe you fine people a blog post. We have exactly thirty minutes on the clock until the day is over.* Let's pump this baby out.**

To keep things quick and light-hearted, I will now improvise a list. Ten Things That Are Always Funny:

Personal websites from the 1990s. Close your eyes (except not really, idiot) and imagine this. Highlighter green background. Page takes several long seconds to load, and when it does, some wretched midi file begins playing automatically. Yellow, bolded Comic Sans scrolls by on a looping marquee, proudly stating, "Welcome to my Site!" Somewhere inconvenient, a graphic of, I don't know, the globe or something, rotates. A broken link surrounded by a purple box offers to take you "Home." Across the bottom is a pasted copyright symbol and a hotmail address in underlined blue. Always funny.
The phrase "according to science." I've discussed this in videos, I've made reference to this in videos, and I will continue to use this in videos wherever applicable. I don't know why it cracks me up, exactly-- maybe it's just the perfect testament to America's arrogant ignorance? Whatever the reason, I can assure you that if you're ever in a pinch to make me laugh, begin your sentence with "According to science...." Always funny.
Similarly, the word "fetus." Always funny.
30 Rock. Those of you who've been following me for a while know all about my undying devotion to Tina Fey, but this year, that devotion has spread to the entire cast and writing team of her sitcom. I've now seen every episode at least five times. I beg you, if you've never given 30 Rock a chance, get your butt on Netflix and work your way through. Absolutely worth it. Always funny.
The way I still, at age twenty, have to thoroughly think through whether midnight is 12pm or 12am. Not always something I'm proud to admit, but always funny.
People with sexy foreign accents trying to force a bad American accent. Always funny.
The fact that a large group of clever, interesting, smart people are willing to come back every single day for an entire month just to hear what some girl in Ohio ate for lunch. I know I say that a lot, but it's because it marvels me a lot. Always inspiring, always funny.
Babies wearing bunny ears. As my father once said, "A baby wearing bunny ears is always good for a guffaw." Also, always funny.
The way I bare my teeth like a ravenous wolf every time I look at cheese. There was a not-even-kidding silver platter of grilled cheese sandwiches at my dining hall today. Instead, I ate fruit and zucchini bread for breakfast, red grapes and quinoa with beans and corn for lunch, a big ol' sandwich*** with chips and a banana for dinner, and a block of dark chocolate while doing homework. But when I saw the forty-some passersby with ice cream cones this afternoon? I almost punched someone out. Almost punching someone out? Always funny.
The way I just shoved the list of what I ate today into this list (listception!) and still have three minutes left before midnight. CHAMPION! ALWAYS FUNNY!

Okay, wow, I didn't think I could pull that off. I'm gonna go run a victory lap (and by that I mean sleep). I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5
Subscribers: 48,620
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI
Miles run today: 4

*This sentence reminds me of Global GUTS.
**This sentence reminds me of this.
***Hummus, cucumbers, tomatos, spinach, carrots, green peppers, red onion.

Coconut Revisited (on the bathroom floor)

2011-04-13T20:35:00.002-04:00

First of all, if you commented on yesterday's post, you are hilarious and adored. Second of all, yesterday's post? I have no idea what you're talking about. I am completely oblivious. Any reference you ever make in regards to yesterday will be addressed with utter confusion. What cross-stitched cat?

Yesterday began with a splash, and that splash was coconut milk ice cream. Out of my mouth. Over and over again. Taking place on my knees in the community dorm bathroom. Good morning! Yeah, in vomclusion, that was a horrible idea and every single one of you who suggested I try it should check your mail, because I've sent you a vile of my throwup. It's labeled "Hayley's Crushed Hopes & Dreams" and my stomach is not speaking to you right now.

Bile aside, I spent most of Tuesday in an unspectacular mood for other reasons. I was hungry but food felt gross, I had French homework but don't speak French, a guy in one of my classes thought George Washington lived during the Renaissance... it was an all-around angst fest. On top of that, I was frustrated with a few comments I received on Monday's post. I'm not sure how I'm expected to amuse every reader every day of the month, but I've gotten over it. The overwhelming majority of feedback I receive is kind and funny and lovely, so it's simply unfair to be a brat over one or two slightly critical remarks. I think my bad attitude was just the stomach ache talking. Besides, I make myself laugh, and that's the point, right? Narcissism? Right.

FOR THOSE INTERESTED, today I ate cheerios and this and a banana and ziti noodles with marinara sauce and carrot sticks. For those who don't care, oh well. No real updates on the dairy withdrawal: I still want a pizza. I still can't have a pizza. The saga continues.

Anyway, I'm currently watching The Aristocats for the first time since I was about six years old, and I have a friend over, so I've gotta go... tend to that. I hope you cats have a lovely evening, and I'll see you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5.5
Subscribers: 48,582
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI

P.S. This movie is anti-feminist. All the women are teases or crazy cat ladies or falling off the back of the truck.

Technically a blog post.

2011-04-12T22:16:00.000-04:00

Lactating Coconuts

2011-04-11T20:29:00.006-04:00

After spending way too much time studying in the library, this evening called for an adventure. A thrilling adventure. A daring and devious adventure! But I couldn't think of any, so instead I went to the grocery store and bought dairy-free ice cream. /anticlimax

A lot of you have been recommending different brands of faux-milk products, and I figured it was time to give one a try. I went out in search of a pint of coconut ice cream, hoping its pretty label with pictures of cookie dough chunks would not betray me. It cost seven dollars, which is mildly insane... but I justified the purchase by telling myself, "You just have to enjoy it as much as you'd enjoy paying to see some Ashton Kutcher movie in theaters." This calmed me down, because the only way I'd like coconut milk less than Ashton Kutcher movies is if coconut milk gave me anaphylactic shock whilst punching my mother.*

So I tried it. Not horrible. The consistency is much softer than real ice cream-- I had to fight off the temptation to eat the first layer super fast, because unlike with the real deal, the second layer was no less melty-- but all in all, if I hadn't seen the packaging, I might not have known the difference. It didn't seem so much like fake ice cream... just slightly crappy ice cream. Also, in hindsight, the fact that it tasted like coconut should have surprised me less. I don't have any huge issue with coconuts or anything, but I've never been enough of a fan to waste a few hundred calories on their artificial lactation. For seven dollars, I dug out all the cookie dough chunks, popped the lid back on, and called it a day. If anyone's in need of some mangled coconut teat puss**, it's all yours.

Other than that, today was quite delicious. Breakfast was orange juice and two pieces of wheat toast; one with peanut butter, one with peach preserves. Lunch was green tea and a few pieces of vegetarian sushi. I had a small afternoon snack of hummus and Sun Chips, realizing early on that hummus and Sun Chips go poorly together, but continuing nonetheless, because I am a fighter. For dinner, I waited in line for my dining hall's wok bar, of which you can see pictures here, here, and here. It was tasty, but I only got through about a fourth of the dish before feeling utterly stuffed. Then came a few spoonfuls of the icey coconut concoction, and (much later in the evening) my friends were going to Chipotle... and I have what Freud calls Burrito Envy... so I tagged along and gorged on chips and salsa as a nighttime snack. Yummmmtastic.

I got yelled at in yesterday's comments for not divulging a list of everything I ate, so I'm making up for it with this totally food-centered post. Now that we're all balanced out, The Hayleylujah Chorus will be back to regular programming tomorrow night. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you then!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5ish
Subscribers: 48,499
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI
Miles run today: How could you expect me to work out when I had so much eating to do?

*I do not like Ashton Kutcher movies.
**Yes, that was both stupid and gross, but it amused me, so lay off.

Chickpeas and Testicles

2011-04-10T21:34:00.002-04:00

"Everyone's daily posts have gone to shit by this point so you can probably get away with whatever you want." -Mike Lombardo, philosopher

Well, it's April 10th, and we've finally reached that point in BEDA where I stare at a flashing cursor and realize I have nothing to say. But I'm not going to complain, because there's nothing worse than that girl who bitches about the fact that strangers laugh at her jokes and care about her lunch.* Instead, I will provide for you (aren't you fortunate?) a list of unrelated thoughts I'm having tonight.

Hummus tastes good but chickpeas do not. This doesn't seem to add up.
This afternoon, I ran four miles in 83-degree heat. People usually laugh when I call myself a badass, but guys-- I'm a badass. I'm basically Lance Armstrong.**
Out of curiosity, I browsed my town's Craigslist tonight. I don't think 50-year-old men in my area have a very good understanding of the term "strictly platonic." I am now experiencing what is commonly referred to as being "skeeved out," and I shall forever be on my guard when I pass adult men in the grocery store.
I have a ton of homework due this week, but I don't have to turn most of it in until Tuesday or Wednesday. Naturally, I've chosen to start it all tomorrow night.
This afternoon's sunshine was heavenly. The ghostly lines on my legs where my shorts stopped? Less heavenly, but at least hilarious.

Now wasn't that fun? And educational! On that note, I'm gonna go shower my nasty self. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to share in tomorrow's post... and hopefully, tomorrow, I won't be sweaty and disgusting. Do me a favor and have lovely night. A demain!

Chipotle burritos this year: 5
Subscribers: 48,468
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI
Miles run today: 4

*This sentence is an example of a literary device called "hyperbole." Some examples of things worse than my complaining about having to write a blog: war, torture, genocide, poverty, starvation, inescapable caste systems, disease, grief, loneliness, loss of limb, explaining the definition of "hyperbole" to people old enough to read internet blogs.
**I, too, am missing a testicle.***
***Two of them.

What is this dark magic?

2011-04-09T20:57:00.003-04:00

Hello, lovelies. It's the ninth day of April and I still want a pizza. For those just tuning in, I'm taking on a 30-day challenge to give up dairy products. It's not a weight loss thing; I'm just curious about the rumored health benefits all my vegan friends rave about, so I'm forgoing milk in addition to my vegetarianism. The first five days were nothing-- a lifestyle full of salads and extra energy felt plausible-- but now, officially, my cheese-craving-angst runneth over and I feel like this:
After a breakfast of Cheerios with soy milk and a Panera lunch made of 75% bread, I still spent most of my evening hungry. Everyone's giving me very kind advice (add more variety to your diet, push through because the first week is the hardest, just scarf down a block of cheddar in the middle of the night and don't tell anyone...), but I still feel GRAWR! I am a lunatic, raging with all the firey passion of my white, first-world, middle-class pain. I will prevail. But I will prevail at your expense, Readers of My Daily Complaining.

In cheerier news, I had fun today. Needing a break from our college town, my friend Carina and I went on a mini roadtrip to a mall, about an hour and a half away. We didn't buy much, but we had a good time giggling about the inadequacies in our educations about makeup (how do you do that thing where you, like, put colored powders on your eyelids? What is this dark magic?) and browsing the big Barnes & Noble for books about women escaping the confines of polygamy. In terms of a Saturday afternoon: productive.

Regarding your comments on yesterday's post, again, guys, you crack me up. Your elementary school motivational quotes were... maybe not helpful, but at least very amusing. I'll end tonight's post by returning the favor, as best I can: Reach for the stars. Shoot for the moon. Dance like nobody's watching. If at first you don't succeed, give up and buy mozzarella sticks.

No. Not that last one.

Chipotle burritos this year: 5
Subscribers: 48,421
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI

Rabid Raccoon

2011-04-08T22:35:00.003-04:00

Super quick post tonight because it's Friday on a college campus and I have to go pretend to have things to do. What did I eat today? Peanut butter. I only ate peanut butter. (That's a joke.) (But it's also practically true.) (As in, the Joke is my Life.) In all seriousness, though, this lack-of-cheese thing is continuing to get me down. If you guys have any corny* motivational sayings from, like, fifth grade gym class, please leave them in the comments as a source of encouragement. Without moral support, I might sleepwalk to the grocery store and sleepeat a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough, and trust me, that just sounds dangerous.

Before I dart off, a story from my day:

My friend PJ and I were walking around outside when we saw this. Concerned, we took turns taking careful, slow steps toward the little guy, hoping we wouldn't scare him/get holes punched through our faces by his inevitably rabid chompers. Eventually, I got worried (and scared) enough to call Animal Control... and just as I heard ringing on the other end, a guy walked over to the rabid raccoon and put it on his head.

The raccoon, whose life I attempted to save from both disease and the persecution that he would have faced should he have attacked a human, was a hat. Goodnight.

Chipotle burritos this year: 5
Subscribers: 48,374
Nail color: "Samoan Sand," OPI
Miles run today: Shut up.

*I could have said "cheesy" but I didn't want to rub salt in my own wound. But now it's done. Curse you, footnote.

I am the pickle girl.

2011-04-07T20:32:00.004-04:00

I actually laughed out loud while reading yesterday's comments because, when you think about it, the fact that strangers enjoy reading lists of everything I eat in a day is utterly fantastic. (Crazy, too, but fantastic first.) I mean, ten years ago, Total Request Live was the closest anyone came to having a relationship with the creators of their entertainment. In 2011, everyone with an internet connection and a common interest can forge freakish half-relationships. We all follow each other on twitter, look at pictures of the insides of each others' mouths, make videos from inside our private bedrooms... guys, the internet is cool. You are cool. I love this thing we've got going on. Just wanted to get that off my chest.

However, something I CAN'T get off my chest-- okay, stomach; it was almost a transition-- would be the sleeve of cookies I just scarfed down my gullet. I feel guilty now, even though I stayed within the parameters of my challenge and didn't eat anything containing milk, because this binge session was the only thing keeping me from breaking my own rules and ordering pizza. Today was the first day that my vow to give up dairy has made me more annoyed than excited. I felt fine through my PB&J breakfast and my smoothie/strawberry/pickle lunch (I'll explain later), but dinner just plain sucked. I angrily stabbed at my salad, repeatedly asking my friend, "Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Where is the cheese? Why am I doing this?" I was inconsolable until there were two Blow Pops alternating turns on my tongue. I am the most obnoxious six-year-old you've ever met.

I knew the Junk Food Fest of Doom was on the horizon from the second I woke up this morning, but I fought it for as long as possible. It was 70 degrees and gorgeous, so I was outside from 10am until evening, walking around in a feed-me-now kind of stupor. I waited in a ten-minute line for free strawberries at some event for some club whose name I don't care about in the slightest (clearly, their advertising was effective). I was still unsatisfied. I tried to take a nap on a blanket, hoping to be lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones of my stomach gargling like a science fair volcano. I lasted fifteen minutes before a group of picnickers set up shop a yard away from me, cheese fries in tow. There was no solution to this problem, but the closest I could come up with involved pickles.

So I walked uptown to my favorite little deli shop, made my effortless way through its shockingly empty dining area, and had the complete attention of all five people behind the counter. "I just want a big pickle," I announced.

A (very cute) guy with a rolled bandanna around his hair cocked one eyebrow and laughed in my face. "Just a pickle?"

"Just a pickle."

Still chuckling, he told me it'd cost 75 cents. "Ya just really feeling a pickle right now?"

I shrugged. "It's a pickle kind of day."

"I didn't know there was such a kind of day."

Then I said something nonsensical like, "You'd be surprised!" and I walked off with my cylindrical trophy, knowing full well that every employee was watching me leave. I'm sharing this story with you because, first of all, it was amusing, and second of all, college is weird. Where else in the world would you simultaneously be flirted with and stared at like a freak just for buying a pickle? Is the fact that I wanted a pickle, alone, in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, really that intriguing?

I mean... is the act of buying a pickle the kind of thing normal people find unusual? If they think that's weird, how in the world would they react if I told them about this crazy network I have inside my computer screen, complete with inside jokes and separate cliques and huge conferences and Hipster Kitty and bands that exclusively write about inanimate objects from the Harry Potter series? My point is, guys, that we need to make sure we cherish this community we have, because without it, we might have nothing funnier to laugh at than a girl buying a pickle. This universe we've created is amazing and I wouldn't change it for the world. We are so lucky.

And also I would KILL for some cheese right now.

Chipotle burritos this year: 5
Subscribers: 48,342
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline
Miles run today: Murrr. This is making me feel guilty. Maybe I'll go run before bed.

Look at my mouth.

2011-04-06T22:20:00.003-04:00

Quick post tonight due to headache and homework. Headache not made better by incoming wisdom teeth. Wisdom teeth not made better by the fact that I attend college and can't take a week off to have surgery. If you don't believe me, have a look for yourself.

I realize you can't see them. I just wanted to force you to look inside my mouth.

Speaking of the inside of my mouth, I'm one day away from having completed a full week of my dairy-free challenge! I snarled a little bit when a guy on the street handed me a coupon for cheap pizza, but I'm alive. Today's breakfast was orange juice, green tea, half a grapefruit, an egg white omelet* with onions and green peppers, Rice Krispies with almond milk. I didn't feel hungry at lunch time so I just drank a Naked Juice smoothie (still around 300 calories, so "lunch enough"), and made room for dinner's gargantuan burrito. Yumtastic!

Alright, kiddos. I'm off. I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow.

Chipotle burritos this year: 5
Subscribers: 48,314
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline
Miles run today: 2

*A quick note before someone inevitably freaks out: My goal for April is to go without milk products-- not to eat an entirely vegan diet-- and eggs are nutritionally part of the meat family. While eliminating dairy has made fewer egg products available to me, I'm not avoiding the eggs themselves.

Multi-Tasking, Appliance-Juggling Skills of Wonderment

2011-04-05T21:49:00.004-04:00

As I type this, I'm simultaneously holding a powered blowdryer. Perhaps I keep having to backspace and correct single-finger typos, and perhaps I'm getting more hot air on my wall than on my tresses, but you have to admit-- it's mildly amazing. I plan to add this to my catalogue of skills for future resumes and reality TV show applications. Hayley is a fun-loving go-getter with a wild streak as long as her list of talents: making brownies from a box mix, construction paper crafts, dancing the robot, drying her hair and blogging in a single bound.... I don't have a wild-streak or the capacity for fun-loving and/or go-getting. I lied about those parts. Also, frankly, I turned the dryer off halfway through that paragraph and hoped you wouldn't notice. I'm sorry for deceiving you.

In other news, today marks Day 5 of my challenge to go without dairy products for an entire month. Still no crises. Pizza continues to look amazing, but I'm noticing that butter is losing its appeal for me. My dining hall keeps a heap of it on the salad bar and I actually turned my nose up at it, thinking, "Yeah, that's definitely not something I need inside of me" and also, "Great, I'm one of those people now." I wonder if this trend will continue until May or if I'll be dying for a croissant by Friday. Either way, this morning's breakfast was a bowl of soy milk and Apple Jacks (hadn't had those in forever and they were awesome... until I saw that sugar is the first ingredient. Yeeks.). Lunch was salad with raspberries and nuts piled on top. Afternoon Binge Disaster was about five servings of original Sun Chips, but I brought the team back together to finish strong at dinner time, choosing to cut up a veggie burger patty and eat it on a bed of greens. I had a banana between breakfast and lunch, too, and some blueberries with dinner. The chip overload was less a result of hunger and more a product of the, uh, moon phases, if you will, so I don't feel too bad about indulging. Altogether, today was another success.

Your comments regarding yesterday's post were both helpful and amusing (YES, I realize the difference between sex and gender, but gender jokes aren't as funny!) and I think I have a better understanding of my assignment now. I also have a better understanding of just how bad my French is (thanks, native speakers) and want to ask you, as per Scott's lol-worthy comment, how you excuse the fact that "vagina" is a masculine noun! Come on, French. Get it together. Anyway, I hope you guys realize that my love for you isn't a publicity charade or anything-- I look forward to reading your responses every day, and have tons of appreciation for those of you who come back on a frequent basis, whether or not you leave a comment. You make me feel awesome. I want to take you on a magic carpet ride past galloping white horses. Or something. You pick.

On that note, and definitely not just because my phone tells me The Situation is calling because, pfft, writing this is totally more important... I've gotta bounce. I have homework to do and teeth to brush and-- shut up!-- boyfriends to attend to :). I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 4
Subscribers: 48,279
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline
Miles run today: 3

Eating, having a vagina...

2011-04-04T22:45:00.003-04:00

Hello, lovelies. I'm not a sadist; I won't keep you waiting any longer. I know what you're all dying to hear: a list of everything I ate today. Calm yourselves. I'll deliver.

Breakfast was the same old orange juice and Kashi cereal with soy milk, lunch was a salad, banana, a handful of walnuts/pecans, and (surprisingly vegan!) tator tots. Dinner was an experiment with milk-free frozen meals, this time Amy's Black Bean Enchiladas. They looked disgusting but didn't taste half bad. Salted popcorn and dark chocolate made another appearance as an evening snack. I made my first sacrifice today, in the form of fighting a craving for peanut M&Ms-- even the dark chocolate versions contain several milk ingredients, the bastards-- but I miraculously survived. Also, I'm really getting the hang of distributing my fat and protein intake so I don't end up starving after a plate of raw vegetables, and I have to say, I feel good. Even an entire bag of popcorn doesn't cause the same hungover feeling I used to get from a single piece of pie. I mean, I'm not signing myself up for a lifetime of raw veganism, but in the past four days, I've barely noticed the absence of dairy products. Here's hoping that continues!

You're welcome, internet. I do you such a valuable service; I totally understand why you keep coming back every day.

The rest of today was slow, but thanks to warm thunderstorms outside, pretty. One of my English professors left the windows open during class so that little bits of rain floated in past the whipping curtains and it felt just amazing. Something about rain always makes me feel extraordinarily peaceful, even when going through the motions of an average weekday. I spent today discussing Chaucer, speaking horrible French, analyzing Michelle Tea poems, and posting a silly video on my new second channel whose comments have me laughing out loud. You guys are my type of people. Genuinely awesome company.

Sorry for running short tonight, but it's nearly bedtime and a pile of homework still lurks in my future. OH! Speaking of homework, I need your help with something! For Women and Gender Studies, I have to keep a log over the next week of all the times I'm "reminded of my gender." All I can think to write is, "8am. Wake up. Have vagina." Do you guys have any ideas to help me fill three pages? Anyway, mon vagin et moi allons aller écrivons en français. Goodnight!

Chipotle burritos this year: 4
Subscribers: 48,227
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline
Miles run today: 3.5

Everbody's looking back on the weekend, weekend. (To the tune of "Friday")

2011-04-03T22:06:00.006-04:00

Previously, in the Hayleylujah Chorus: Our beloved heroine finds herself faced with a dilemma to rival Hamlet's "To be or not to be." Should she go out on a Saturday night, engage in collegiate debauchery, have interesting information to relay to her blog readers the following evening? Or should she continue to lie on her bed, moving only the muscle required to click "Next page" on Tumblr, until she develops several excess chins? Find out now.

And the answer is... I went out! Just as I was ready to give up on the prospect of making plans, a friend of mine invited me to hang out in her dorm with some casual acquaintances. I went, made small talk for maybe half an hour, and then decided to tag along with another friend to a Real Party. It wasn't CRAZY AMAZING BREAK-WINDOWS-WITH-ROCKS-AND-SCREAM-THE-JOYFUL-CHANTS-OF-YOUTH EXCITING, but I had a legitimately good time. At one point, the entire crowd burst into a (perhaps substance-induced) rendition of "Friday." The friend I was with-- a girl I met because she read this blog, actually-- leaned into me during the Rebecca Black-along to yell, "It's like the internet in real life!" And she was right. Sometimes drunk strangers know every word to the rap break in a youtube meme. Sometimes life imitates art. These are the types of things you learn when you leave your room.

I got to bed pretty late last night, so today has been relaxing and low-key. I had brunch with friends, watched some Office, went for a long walk by myself, and waded my way through "The Knight's Tale" from The Canterbury Tales for one of my literature classes. My textbook has Middle English on one page, Modern on the next, but I've been forcing myself to make sense of the original language before going back and reading the modern translation. It's a decent challenge, which is refreshing. Maybe I'll update you guys with interesting tidbits I learn, in the event that I, you know, learn some interesting tidbits.

As far as my dairy-free challenge is concerned, today was another easy day. Breakfast was orange juice, Rice Krispies and blueberries with soy milk, and half a wheat bagel with natural peanut butter and strawberry slices. Lunch was a beautiful bowl of Chipotle* with ice water and lemon, I had a serving of dark chocolate for a snack, and dinner was three bowls of Kashi cereal, soy milk, and some green tea. I realize that my diet is becoming a little cereal-heavy, so I'll have to find some other convenient, filling options to balance it out. I've been cerealing so much to compensate for the fact that my meals sans-cheese and sans-bread-products-that-go-with-cheese contain fewer calories than I'm used to. I've been logging everything I eat into Livestrong.com, though, to make sure I eat enough calories to maintain my activity level. It's possible that I'll drop some weight from this project (which wouldn't be horrible, since I naturally gained about seven pounds over the winter) but I want to make sure I don't lose more than those few pounds, or more than I need. This is an experiment in the spirit of good health, of course, so I'm taking all the necessary precautions to make sure I'm taking proper care of myself.

Alright, it's nearly 11PM, so I have to walk across campus to the library in order to read a story for French tomorrow. The bookstores are all fresh out of copies of the text, so lucky Hayley has had to wait all day until the one at the library becomes available. I'm looking forward to a long night of answering questions in a foreign language and depriving my body of its necessary rest. Hooray for college!

Before I run: Did you guys do anything interesting this weekend? Don't feel bad if you didn't-- I rarely do-- but if you did find something cool going on, what was it? Either way, I hope you all have a nice day tonight/tomorrow, and I'll see you guys, obviously, for BEDA Day 4. Night!

Chipotle burritos this year: 4
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline
Subscribers: 48,186
Miles run today: Only 1. For those who asked, no, I haven't stopped running; I just usually do it at night, after I've already updated my blog, and I feel stupid writing "None yet" every time.

*Rice, black beans, corn, tomato salsa, hot salsa, guacamole, lettuce. All vegan! Only making due without sour cream. I love me some SC, but the dish is still amazing without it.

Even the Magic Eight Ball hates me.

2011-04-02T21:02:00.003-04:00

Good evening, Blog, and welcome to the second installment of Blog Every Dairy-Free Day in April! Two days into my challenge, life without dairy looks remarkably similar to life with it. Breakfast was Kashi cereal with soy milk and a glass of V8 juice, lunch was black bean soup, salad*, two kiwis, a roll, and pineapple juice, "dinner" was salted (butterless) popcorn and a few Oreos, which are surprisingly milk-free!** Avoiding dairy products hasn't been remotely difficult yet. My school's dining halls are very vegetarian- and vegan-friendly, and most dishes are labeled if they contain major food allergens, including milk. I raised half an eyebrow at a friend's cookie dough ice cream, but my abstinence didn't induce any withdrawal symptoms. And as far as calcium is concerned, my bones are still intact.*** I don't want to jinx anything, but as of tonight, Mission: Possible.

In other news, I... um. That last paragraph pretty much exhausted the only topic I'd planned to discuss. I feel like, if this post were a real conversation, this would be the point where we'd all checked our phones and pretended to look around the room. I wish I had some sort of fantastic adventure to relay, filled with... I don't know... boys and, uh... booze and... other collegiate things... but if we're being honest, I'm a little bit pathetic. It's now 9:30PM and I've officially spent the entire day-- save the two hours I was across campus eating with a friend-- sitting placid on my bed. I find myself trapped between the desire to walk outside in the real human world and the calming complacency of doing absolutely nothing at all. Maybe I should go out. Should I go out? Hold on, I'll ask my Magic Eight Ball.

Unfortunately, I just remembered that I don't own a Magic Eight Ball. Hold on, I'll google one.

Found it. I asked, "Should I go out?" It told me to "ask again later." I waited a second and asked again. "Should I go out?"

"Outlook not good."

Geez, Magic Eight Ball. Way to believe in me. Anyway, guys, I think I'm gonna head out. Maybe I'll find something to do, maybe I won't. Either way, I'll update you on my fascinating decision tomorrow. Until then, I hope you all have a lovely evening, a lovelier morning, and a sense of accomplishment about not being as lame as I am. See you tomorrow!

Chipotle burritos this year: 3
Subscribers: 48,120
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline

*Spinach, romaine, green/yellow/red peppers, cucumbers, carrots, broccoli, onion, peas, lima beans, seeds, dried cranberries. No salad dressing because-- go ahead and call me crazy-- I don't really like any.

**This fact should gross me out. It does not.

***A note about calcium, since a lot of you were kind enough to be concerned for me: I've charted my vitamin and mineral intake in the past, and I actually receive plenty of calcium from non-dairy sources like nuts and greens. Something else that I find really interesting? It's heavily rumored that Americans receive too much calcium in their ordinary diets, considering that the countries with the strongest bones are those where people consume less milk. I'm obviously not a nutritionist or a scientist or a doctor, so don't take my word as law, here, but it's really a really interesting topic to research.

Blog Every Dairy-Free Day in April!

2011-04-01T12:04:00.004-04:00

BLOG EVERY DAY IN APRIL? Are you kidding me? I have far too much going on in my life. I need to order my box set of Jersey Shore DVDs, watch Charlie Sheen's live webcasts, apply for a job at Hooters, eat a gigantic, bloody steak. Besides, I've been really moody lately, considering my double pregnancy (my fetus is pregnant, as well-- kind of like conception Inception) and the fact that I'm addicted to heroin. Sorry to get your hopes up, but it's just not gonna happen this year.

You crazy fools. Of course I'm participating in BEDA. I'm as pumped as pumped can be! No, I'm pumpedier than pumped, because this year's BEDA is not just a race-- it's an obstacle course! While I've written a blog post every day in the month of April for the past two years, this year I'm adding another objective to the goal. I'm going to attempt eating a dairy-free diet from today until the 30th. And you're gonna watch.*

Why would you do that, freak?
I've been reading a lot about nutrition lately and there actually appears to be substantial evidence that dairy is not only unnecessary, but likely even harmful to humans. Out of curiosity, I gave up dairy products for a week and a half in March (in total secrecy, for the added thrill) and found that I really did feel more energetic. I want to see what happens after a whole month.

But Hayley, you love cheese!
Ugh. I know I do, Italicized Dialogue. But oddly enough, after holding out on pizza and cream cheese for only ten days, neither has seemed that satisfying since. If I get to the end of the month and find myself salivating uncontrollably over a pile of whipped cream, I'm not going to deny myself! I'm just curious if a detox will change my feelings.

Won't you kind of look self-righteous and preachy?
I hope not! I mean, I'm kind of famous for my ability to eat mass quantities of junk in record time, so I'm hardly a health nazi. Also, I'm willing to put the project on hold if it starts to inconvenience other people. (i.e. If someone invites me over for dinner, I'm not going to abstain from their cooking just to amuse myself. If something of that nature happens, I'll just add on an extra dairy-free day in May.)

What if you turn into a crazy starving rampage monster?
Then my blog posts will be hilarious.
I'll eat more bread, guys. And it's only one month!

I think you're an idiot.
Takes one to know one, Self.

Anyway, that's the plan. I'll keep you updated on a day-to-day basis with my triumphs and struggles, while still providing you (lucky bastards) with the all brilliant and witty anecdotes for which I'm critically acclaimed (remember the time I went to class, did homework, and then went to bed? Riveting!). Let me know in a comment or tweet if you're BEDAing as well. Oh, and are any of you vegan or dairy-free vegetarians? If so, I'd love to hear your advice and stories on the topic.

I hope you all have a lovely day. See you tomorrow, guys!

Chipotle burritos this year: 3
Subscribers: 48,045
Nail color: "Onyx Rush," Maybelline

*I mean, like, if you want to. No pressure. Not too much pressure.

Playlist Live and Cantaloupe

2011-03-28T23:35:00.003-04:00

Do you ever get to that point where you're stretched out on your bed, shirt folded up so as not to constrict the belly you've just stuffed to the brink with pizza, baskets of clean laundry piled at your feet, desk strewn with notebooks and empty cups and a plush alligator? And do you ever find yourself thinking, while in this position, Gee, the most logical thing for me to do right now would be to write a blog post, rather than tend to the hundred little disasters around me? What's that? You CAN relate? Oh, Blog. I knew I liked you.

Since we last spoke, I finished up another academic quarter with brilliant mediocrity, roadtripped to Florida with The Situation, and attended the youtube conference Playlist Live where all my most magical dreams came true, from bonding with Tyler Oakley to hot-tubbing between both members of ALL CAPS to touching Emerson Spartz to eating cantaloupe. The first item in the previous list was stressful (my school limited everybody's internet usage during finals week to save money but, oh, fear not, they didn't limit the five-star hotels for our perpetually losing football team), the second item was fun and relaxing, the third worthy of its own paragraph (below), and the fourth was somehow a six-dollar expense because that's the way Orlando rolls.

But enough about melons; let's gossip. Playlist Live ended up being pretty fantastic. The event definitely had its faults, like setting up a "VIP party" which I attended for about ten minutes before realizing it was more or less a "I bet I can outdouche you" competition between young people with way too much money and even more ego, but everyone I met who doesn't check their subscriber counts every fourteen seconds was lovely as can be. I hung out at the gorgeous outdoor pool where I had sassy bikini-clad girl talk with italktosnakes (control yourselves!), admired Nanalew, Strawburry17 and Meekakitty who all manage (miraculously) to be even more beautiful in person, and asked embarrassing questions of Dan Brown because "you promised to let the internet control your life this year and I am the internet so answer me." I also got to hang out with graphic designer extraordinaire Karen Kavett, my teenage dreams Alex Carpenter and Jason Munday, and a whole slew of Nerdfighters from all over the country (and some beyond), each amusing and awesome and adorable and every other positive A-adjective you can imagine. Dave Days was really polite and seems like a genuinely nice guy, Wheezy Waiter is an all-around champion at life, and at the end of the day, the people I'd expected to be cool were very much cool, and the only people I rolled my eyes at are the ones I've been eye-rolling all along. Internet personalities may not be a perfect reflection of the real people behind them, but they appear to be close.

So yeah, my spring break was an all-around success. I spent a cathartic day at my family's vacation place and wore out my feet (in the best possible way) on a long beach walk with my parents, heard some exciting family news*, talked and laughed with this pianist guy I'm very much in love with, and felt real sun on my face for the first time in months. Even crappy airtravel mini-disasters couldn't undo the pleasant feeling I've been riding since I got home. And that's saying something.***

Anyway, it's now past midnight and the laundrysplosion surrounding my gelatinous self is looking like more of an issue, so I should probably stop typing and go tend to that. I'm starting all new classes this week, so hopefully I'll have news to report about my collegiate adventures in the future. In the meantime, check out this video I just posted on my brand new secondary youtube channel, if you're bored, and I hope to see you around these parts soon!

Chipotle burritos this year: 3
Subscribers: 47,888
Nail color: "Broken and gross" by the I'm Lazy line
Miles run today: -100, +1 pizza

*Can you keep a secret? I mean, you don't really have to, but calling it a secret sounds so much more fun. Guess what. My sister and her husband are finally pregnant!**

**She is technically the only pregnant one, but he helped.

***At one point I was seated between two basketball players, both asleep with his legs spread widely apart, one thigh from each pushing on my skirt-clad legs in a much too intimate way. At another point, I almost went off on a crazy rant when the entire airline staff continually addressed an innocent woman (she was Chinese but speaking perfectly decent, passable English) in that SLOW. LOUD. SPACED-OUT. VOICE. IGNORANT. AMERICANS. USE. ON. FOREIGNERS. Meanwhile, the world's most annoying seven-year-old boy in front of my repeatedly burst into five-second tears over his homework (Yes, kid, Mexico is part of North America. It's not that hard to draw an oval. "Answer" has a W in it.), the overhead compartments were not nearly big enough to hold even my very reasonably-sized bag, and my first plane was so late that I nearly missed the second. *Deep breath.* #whitegirlproblems

In which childhood dreams punch me in the face.

2011-03-02T23:38:00.005-04:00

This afternoon, my computer punched me in the face.

I'd been in that typical late-winter mood since I woke up-- you know, when your skin's all dry and your jeans are too tight and you decide the missing leaves from the trees are a metaphor for the missing purpose from your life and waaah-- and I had assumed my typical after-class position, lying down with my laptop propped on my knees. Just a regular day. Watching The Best of Adam Sandler on Netflix, eating simple carbs, wallowing in the quiet misery of being rich and white. It was just when my mind had started down the path of I'm pathetic and wasting my time by getting this useless degree from an institute whose only real claim to fame is being consistently recognized by Playboy.com for its great keggers... when it hit me. Literally. A slight movement caused my aluminum laptop to slide down my thighs and, at full speed, knock me straight in the mouth. All I did at the time was swear and flail, but little did I know: The universe was trying to convey a message to me.

Still, I carried on as usual, having misinterpreted that painful beacon of fate as just another example of gravity wanting to spite me. It wasn't until later, when I was flopping my winter thighs around the indoor track of our school gym, that I finally got the message.

I like to let my mind wander while I run, and perhaps it stemmed from my earlier thoughts about the pointlessness of my Creative Writing degree, but I happened to recall a seemingly random memory from seventh grade Sunday School. Our teacher had asked us to go around the circle and introduce ourselves by saying our names and what we wanted to be when we grew up. I was (shockingly!) a bit of a douchebag when I was thirteen, and I clearly remember trying to overshadow all the would-be firemen and nurses by saying, "I'm Hayley, and I want to write for Saturday Night Live." Truthfully, I had only ever seen the first two sketches of each episode from the foot of my parents' bed before they turned it off and I went to my room, but I always liked what I'd seen, and I knew I'd sound cool for saying so. And I loved that dream-- someday being adult and sophisticated, writing topical jokes about politics I understood, seeing my name on a screen while trumpets played, having some little Maya Rudolph smile. So I said, "And maybe I'll be a cast member, too, but I mainly just want to write."

My Sunday School teacher nodded and said something falsely earnest like, "I'm sure you will be someday!" because she was supposed to encourage us and therefore couldn't have said, "That's cute, but in twenty years you'll be living down the street from your parents, working at the library, and crying yourself to sleep every night while your second husband rubs ointment into his varicose veins." Lately, though, that depressing spiel has been feeling a lot more realistic.

I could see that teacher's face in my head tonight, while I ran laps. I was thinking about it, dwelling on the particular sadness of having been more confident about my career aspirations when I had braces than I am at age twenty... when Fate threw a sign at my head that was much, much, much heavier than a laptop. I was minding my own business when a tall blonde girl entered the track and started jogging out in front of me, and I swear to you, on my Scout's Honor, because I could not make this shit up*... she was wearing a t-shirt... with the Saturday Night Live logo on the back.

Uh, yeah. Seconds after having resigned myself to someday being Ohio's Funniest English Teacher Who Hates Herself, I found myself quite literally chasing my childhood dream. Isn't life hilarious? Somehow, some stranger wearing a souvenir from the NBC giftshop was all it took to restore my seventh grade optimism, at least for a while. Somehow, I feel more inspired to write tonight.

Cue the big band music.

Chipotle burritos this year: 3
Subscribers: 46,565
Nail color: "You Don't Know Jacques," OPI.
Miles run today: 4
Miles run this year: Lost track a week ago. It was fun while it lasted.

*Okay, in actuality, I could make this shit up-- fairly easily, even-- but I did not. This account is all true. My goal is to write for SNL, guys, not Saved by the Bell.

Diagnose me.

2011-02-17T11:24:00.003-04:00

I think I'm allergic to February. Everything about this month makes me want to hibernate. I'm pale, I'm overeating, I'm cold, I'm tired, I'm depressed, my nose emits a constant stream of liquid which is super inconvenient because the act of keeping used tissues in your pocket is disgusting, I'm bored, I'm uninspired. I have free time but lack the energy to accomplish anything. All month I've been opening Word documents just to close them, writing three lines of a blog before angrily backspacing, clicking that little star next to the subject lines of emails because "I swear I'll come back to this later." Maybe I have Seasonal Affective Disorder or some other harmless malady invented by white people in the first world for the sake of excusing away our bitchiness. Or maybe I just need a vacation. You know what, Blog? I'll let you decide. Diagnose me. I will list my symptoms below.

Last week, a guy in my majors-only* English class asked me how to make an outline. Two days ago, while peer-editing papers, he circled a sentence of mine that contained dashes and wrote, "What are these lines for?" Since I did not tear my shirt in rage, turn green, roll my eyes or vomit, I must be sick.
I ate so much popcorn last night that the only way I could see fit to neutralize my mouth/stomach was by eating cupcakes. A healthy person would have brushed her teeth or gone for a run or, oh, I don't know, STOPPED EATING THE POPCORN. But I ate cupcakes.
I recently attended class in the same shirt I'd slept in... and I didn't change until the following morning. Like... just soak that up for a second.
There's enough sunshine this morning that I worked up the energy to force myself into a skirt-- not a spectacular one, mind you, but just the average kind of skirt that a girl might wear from time to time-- and two separate classmates have asked, "Why are you so dressed up?" When people call in the Inquisition because you're not utterly disheveled, you have a problem.
My mattress is molding into the shape of my body and there are enough crumbs surrounding me that, frankly, it's only a matter of time before small woodland creatures begin nesting in here.

So what do you say, guys? There are only eleven days left of this hellish month so I can probably survive**, but no promises. Do you have any tips for overcoming Winter Madness? What do you do when you feel depressed for no reason? And does anybody have a forklift to get me off my bed?

Chipotle burritos this year: 1

Subscribers: 45,834

Nail color: Hot pink (I don't remember the brand or name.)

Miles run today: None yet.

Miles run this year: 81

*Just a note to make sure we're all on the same page, here: The kid who asked me these questions is majoring in English at the college level. From this information we can deduce that he 1) passed high school English classes, 2) received satisfactory scores on standardized tests, 3) was accepted to an institution of high learning-- one that turns many people away, no less, and 4) has, you know, written papers before.

**I'm such a heroine. What Chilean miners? I'm sick of winter; that's what matters!

Early

2011-02-08T13:54:00.005-04:00

As I sit in an empty hallway with a bag full of textbooks and a laptop on my knees, it is suddenly dawning on me, Blog, that I am psychotic.

At my university, all classes start at ten minutes past the hour. This system was probably adopted to limit scheduling conflicts and to ensure students enough time to get from one end of campus to the other, but I can't help but feel like it summarizes the overall atmosphere of our school: laze in, laze out, take it easy, wear sweats. If you're ten minutes late, you're right on time.

I normally admire the type of people who don't allow themselves to be too consumed with fast-paced anxiety, the ones who find peaceful escapes from stress instead of always Starbucksing their way through the motions. And in a lot of ways, I'm one of them. The problem, however, is that no matter how artistic and writerly and smell-the-roses-ish I can be, I am incapable of being late. Incapable. For fear of holding people up or missing something important, I will always overestimate the amount of time it takes to complete a task or drive to the store or walk up a hill. So, when I tell myself that "Class starts at one," you can bet your ass I'll be there at 12:45.

But class starts at 1:10.
Meaning I'm twenty-five minutes early.
Which is basically half an hour early.
And what do you call the girl who's consistently half an hour early to an hour-long class?

Psychotic. We call her psychotic.

Chipotle burritos this year: 1
Subscribers: 45,321
Nail color: Bare, but watch this.
Miles run today: None yet.
Miles run this year: 70

Hot Geologist

2011-02-02T16:19:00.004-04:00

I have a crush on this substitute Geology teacher. He's a grad student, early twenties. Dark hair, scraggly beard, square glasses. Moves his hands a lot when he talks about plate tectonics. He sometimes fills in for our regular professor because she tends to go to Greece quite frequently to look at rocks. I like his teaching style and his cardigan. He's wearing a dark purple t-shirt with some kind of design on it in red-- it might be bullhorns, but frankly, I'm far away enough that it could easily be ovaries. I wouldn't mind either way because it's not like I'm single or going to talk to him. Just a musing.

Meanwhile, a guy behind me just laughed at the word "lubrication."

I don't really have much to say right now, but I thought I'd check in. I just posted a new video to officially announce that I'll be attending Playlist Live in Orlando, Florida at the end of March. Will any of you be there? I hope we get to talk. Maybe I'll bring my plastic recorder and take requests!*

In other news, I went to a Ben Folds concert last week with my friend Hannah and had a phenomenal time. I got to talk to him and some of the band/crew after the show, making me feel like a bit of a badass, if we're being honest. Oh, and speaking of badass, I watched the documentary Catfish last night and about fainted. Highly recommended.

Anyway, I hope you're all having a lovely week. Since this post was boring, here. Have a funny video with hot guys in it. Go watch it and eat something and be merry. Until next time!

Chipotle burritos this year: 1
Subscribers: 44,816
Nail color: None right now.
Miles run today: 2
Miles run this year: 65

*Provided that your request is "Hot Crossed Buns."

Fastronaut

2011-01-19T13:58:00.008-04:00

Good afternoon, Blog! I know I haven't popped over here in almost a month, but I have a really good excuse this time. I've been hesitating to tell you about it, but I guess it's time I let you in on the truth. I'm a secret astronaut. I've been in orbit since December, and there's really crappy wifi over Australia. Not to mention, the whole anti-gravity thing makes typing difficult, and I don't know if you've ever had spacesickness, but it isn't pretty. Anyway, if anyone asks why I've been absent from my blog for so long, just come up with some ridiculous alibi, like, "She has a lot of homework" or "She didn't feel like it." Thanks, guys. I'm so grateful that I can always count on you to keep my secrets. *

A handful of important things have happened since we last spoke: fiveawesomegirls ended after a fun and emotional three-year run, I've made a couple of hayleyghoover videos (and am in the process of making another as we speak), more than a year has passed since I got together with The Situation, I did some laundry, and Miley wanted to go to college with Lily but she didn't get in so then she told the world she was Hannah Montana and she got in but then Miley got an offer for a movie so she went to Paris but then Lily hated her so Miley invited Lily to go with her to Paris but then Lily decided to go to college so Miley went to Paris without her but then Miley missed Lily so she went to college. So needless to say, my life has been exciting.

Oh, here's a fun story! I was running around the track last night, and I kept passing these two girls who were walking along the side, chatting. Now I'm not sure why they deduced that, just because I was zipping past them, I was totally deaf to their conversation... but I'm glad they assumed so, because I heard the greatest little tidbit.

Blonde Girl: That chick in the pink shorts is fast as [expletive]!
Brunette Girl: Dude, that's the youtube girl.
Blonde Girl: OH YEAH. She, like, makes money from youtube, right?
Brunette Girl: Yeah, how can youtube be a job?
Blonde Girl: I dunno, I guess you're a "youtuber."

Then they laughed because they thought they'd invented the word "youtuber" and then I laughed because my life is awesome.

The best part of it all, though, was the very first sentence. FAST? Someone called me fast and they weren't joking! This is high praise, considering most of the feedback I received in high school cross-country (when I finished every race at the far tail end of my team, usually whilst red in the face and/or swearing) was along the lines of, Nice try, Hayls! You haven't passed out yet! We're proud of you for not crying, sweetheart!

So with all that considered, I'm doing pretty well. A stranger thinks I'm a good runner, the Presence community continues to grow, I'm not failing any of the my classes yet, and I got ten hours of sleep last night. I hope you're all having a nice week! Keep being badass, and I'll see you soon.

Chipotle burritos this year: 0
Subscribers: 43,698
Nail color: "Plum's the Word," Sally Hansen
Miles run today: 4
Miles run this year: 39

*I'm also grateful for the wikipedia page on weightlessness for confirming that "space sick" is a real thing.

P.S. Megan McCafferty fans! Today is the one-year anniversary of the events of Perfect Fifths!

I Am Victoria's Victim.

2010-12-27T01:09:00.005-04:00

I'm not a genius or a prodigy or that girl who played Winnie Cooper, but I'm a pretty smart person. I don't follow most trends without thinking, I try not to use words I don't understand, I don't buy things off the TV. Still, with all my rationality and with all the raging feminism of my twenties, I do have my weaknesses. And one of them is Victoria's Secret.

I waddle through the mall, balancing the Christmas presents I need to exchange, arms laced with the straps of shopping bags. I see it in the distance, glowing pink. On either side of its entrance, posters fill the space from ceiling to floor with images of open-mouthed women and their extraordinarily long torsos. A scent, vaguely vanilla, seems to traipse into my nostrils. I strain to avert my eyes. Silently remind myself, It's a trap. They know what appeals to your young female brain. If you go in there, you'll spend money you don't have on items you don't need and then you'll be hooked and never, ever escape. But it is too late. I am lured into this wonderland of lace, glitter, cotton strewn about messily on purpose. I give myself over to the poppy music, inadvertently changing my footsteps to match the beat, until my zombie stride is identical to those of the other shopping prisoners. My smart-person brain is taken hostage. All my thoughts become one repeating mantra: This is sexy. You need sexy. Must be sexy. Buy the sexy.

I find myself twiddling through delicate fabrics, turning over pretty items in my hands. Suddenly, $70 sounds like a perfectly reasonable amount to spend on a nightgown. People who wear these sweatshirts have qualities that I need. My lumpy skin looks nothing like this mannequin, but maybe that's because I don't own this sparkly thing.

I need more money. I need to lose my belly fat. I need to brighten my skin. I need to slather on these creams, pat my face with this powder pompom, wear high heels, inexplicably, to bed. I need to pout my lips like her, I need to pose myself like her, I need to buy everything in this room so I can be exactly what their labels promise: a bombshell, a centerfold, a vixen, a tease.

And then I'm in line, palming an overpriced tube of lotion whose smell would not have enticed me half as much at Macy's. I fiddle about with miniature last-minute products strategically placed near the register. Perhaps I should be wearing lipgloss. Men must like oily, slippery magenta lipgloss, or else it wouldn't be called Beauty Rush, or else it wouldn't be here. Maybe I should get some and watch the woman behind the counter wrap it in hot pink tissue paper and then I can be desirable glamorous wanted worthy. But it's my turn to check out now, and the reality of making a monetary transaction zaps enough sense to my brain that I drop the lipgloss back in its container. I sign my unnecessarily pink receipt and I finally emerge from the store with only one bag. With each step toward the pretzel kiosk, I feel Victoria's grip on me loosen. I am no longer sultry. I am no longer a slave.

Why does that place have so much control over me? I got decent standardized test scores! I've bookmarked CNN.com! In the real world, I am confident, comfortable, and proud of my body and the person inside it. I wear mismatching socks and I only own three pairs of jeans. I should be above these too-obvious marketing schemes, but I'm not. Not quite.

So I wonder, how do you deal with this kind of temptation to spend heaps of money on qualities that can't be bought? How do you convince yourself that sexiness has nothing to do with labels, and that being a good person has little to do with sexiness? Is it always negative? As often as it makes me feel inadequate, its products also make me feel sort of empowered and feminine. Where is the line?

I can't be the only smart girl who still gets sucked in by marketing once in a while. I'm interested in hearing your opinions on the subject. Until then, I hope you're all having a great week. I'm looking forward to reading your responses!

Chipotle burritos this year: 31
Subscribers: 41,613
Nail color: "Devilish," Revlon
Miles run today: 0, but I ate cheesecake, which is practically the same thing.

P.S. It is not sexiness that I have an issue with. Sexiness is awesome and ABSOLUTELY a trait that smart women can possess. My issue is with DESIGNER sexiness. My issue is with paying twice as much for something because it comes on a pink hanger. You know?

Hayley G. Hoover and Charlie McDonnell

2010-12-19T23:30:00.003-04:00

I've tried to ignore it. I thought that maybe, maybe, maybe it would go away on its own, and we could all just forget about it and move on with our lives... but I don't think I'm going to be able to escape this one for a while. It's time to address what it's time to address. There is a Charlie McDonnell song about me.

Three years ago, I used to talk with Charlie on a regular basis. We'd joke around on Skype about youtube and life (he was ahead of me on the subscriber charts, but there was no dramatic difference in our ranks within the youtube community at the time), and one day he sent me a silly faux-love song he'd whipped together in my honor, full of inside jokes and his usual quirkiness. It cracked me up. I played it for my mom and my best friend, but when it never made it into a charlieissocoollike video, I promptly forgot the song had ever existed.

Charlie and I fell out of touch quickly after he sent me the song-- I grew bitter toward him when "fiveawesomeguys" (his spin-off of fiveawesomegirls, which had just begun and was just gaining popularity) phased away from its original role as a companion and tribute to 5AGirls, and soon eclipsed the viewership of our project, despite the fact that it was significantly less organized, less original, and at many times a blatant ripoff.* The fiveawesomeguys soon ceased to credit us for the idea of their channel, and to this day, many youtubers believe 5AGirls-- a project to which I have devoted three years of my time and creativity-- to be an homage to fiveawesomeguys. This assumption is incorrect.

All that being said, however, I eventually got over my animosity. In his defense, Charlie had both mentioned me and posted a video response to my channel in the past, generously giving me a boost in traffic, and had never said a harsh thing about me. I will not act like my bitterness about fiveawesomeguys was unjustified, but it's not something that still bothers me today. I find Charlie's videos to be very entertaining and worth watching. I have had friendly relationships with other members of their channel, and I respect all of them as very talented and fascinating people.

So fast-forward to this December. I heard through the grapevine that Charlie McDonnell was releasing an album through DFTBA Records, and was startled to see my name on the track list. I had given him permission years ago to do with the song as he pleased, and it is funny and cute, so it shouldn't have been a major shock... but I was still bemused. I literally have not spoken a single word to Charlie since the short-lived success of his collab channel. He has not contacted me throughout any part of the process of this album's creation or promotion, and if it weren't for its success, I probably would never have heard that the song was being used at all. I'm not embarrassed about it, and I'm frankly very pleased to have gained new readers and viewers because of the song**, but I can't pretend I saw this coming.

Oh, and now to the fun part. One charming result of my unexpected love song comes in the form of the newly popularized google search "Hayley G Hoover political views." Charlie mentions in the song that, despite his phony affection for me, he and I "don't share the same political views." This is based solely on a few irresponsible things I happened to say around the time of the 2008 election (when I was, mind you, a high school senior, and therefore very naive and prone to iffy logic), about the fact that I tend to lean on the conservative end of the American political spectrum. I've since learned that it's useless to utter a single word about politics on the internet, because even the most flawlessly delivered arguments are still heard as "ME LIKE ABORTION" or "CAVEMAN HATE GAY MARRIAGE." But, to diffuse some of the rumors, I am neither a radical Democrat nor Republican. I am consistently much more liberal on social matters, but consider myself a fiscal conservative. And even still, I am only twenty years old, I'm financially dependent on my parents, and I understand that my opinions could change drastically in just the next five years. All I ask is that you not hear Charlie's song and decide from it that "since Charlie supported Obama, Hayley must be a Nazi," OR deduce that "since Hayley publicly supports gay rights, Charlie must be a homophobe." Both are shallow, neither is true.

In conclusion***, I respect and like Charlie McDonnell, find his song about me to be flattering and fun, and do not harbor negative feelings toward him. While I deeply hope the song will not forever be the number one result for my name in search engines, I am not embarrassed that it exists. I am also not a far-right fundamentalist extremest Karl Rove fan, nor am I Charlie's girlfriend of past, present, or future. Glad we've cleared that up.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31
Subscribers: 41,116
Nail color: "Devilish," Revlon
Miles run today: 3

*I considered wording that in a more polite fashion, but there really isn't any polite way to tell the story truthfully. On several occasions, the fiveawesomeguys announced weekly themes that were identical to the ones we'd created the week before. Charlie adopted a pet cactus plant, without so much as a nod in my direction, when I had been doing the same on our channel for a month. It's difficult to call that coincidence.

**Well, I'm not exactly pleased about being bombarded with comments along the lines of "wut did charlie see in dis fat bitch she iz so uggo he shud luv me insTeaD." But to those of you who have nice things to say-- or who just don't have cruel things to say-- hello!

*** "In conclusion." Lol. I feel like I'm writing an essay for high school English.

P.S. All I ate today was cinnamon rolls (3), a bagel sandwich (1), and chocolate chip cookies (endless, approximately 13). Livin' the dream.

On Writing

2010-12-14T23:26:00.003-04:00

In case nobody's ever told you, writing a book is hard.

I was hesitant to even attempt National Novel Writing Month this year, as it fell right in the middle of my chaotic final exam schedule (from hell!), but sometimes I simply cannot be stopped. I went at it hard and fast for something like five days, and I finally resigned in a puddle of homework and misery just after breaching 15,000 words. So it goes.

Though, in case you haven't heard (which you haven't, because I've been neglecting this blog to the point that I BARELY EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU PEOPLE! *sob*), I'm currently home on Winter Break until the beginning of January, and have nothing but free time in which to make waffles and force the imaginary friends inside my head to interact with each other on paper. After extensive editing, my NaNoWriMo novel now stands at a solid forty pages, and continues to blossom and shape itself every day. Like a Chia Pet you have to think really hard about. I'm growing to simultaneously love and abhor my main character, who has a habit of fearlessly using words that embarrass me to even type, but who also has a very justified adoration for nacho cheese. It is deeply, humongously, extremely likely that this story will never leave my Microsoft Word document and that you will never read a single one of its sentences, but I'm still a superstitious person when it comes to writing, so I don't want to drone on about it too much. However, just know that I really like this idea. I think it could amount to something someday, and I don't say that very often about my creative projects.

But all optimism aside, can we talk for a second about how freaking difficult it is to funnel thoughts into story form? Writing is so much more than "this happened, then this happened, metaphor, simile, ending." You have to plan events ahead of time so that details can weave themselves throughout the plot, but be careful not to plan too much, or else you'll lose all the excitement that comes with the actual writing. You have to find non-irritating ways to introduce the physical characteristics of people and settings, while still including enough dialogue to keep the reader's attention. Different characters need different voices, even though they're all coming from the same author's brain. Who knew art could have so much logic to it?

Still, I'm very excited about the work I've been churning out lately. This book is happening. My new blog project, Presence, is in full swing, and already has a self-sufficient community surrounding it, which blows my mind and warms my heart about sixty times a day. On top of that, I'm about to take on another writing job that will provide me with some real, tangible, spendable money, which will allow me to, like, drive a car and eat food, and will also allow me to say with more confidence, "I am a freelance writer." No more of this "I want to write" nonsense. No more "I'm going to be a writer when I grow up." I'm finally doing it, bitches. Watch me go.

On that note, I'm gonna crawl back into my fictional world until I finish a chapter. I hope you're all having a great week, that you're eating well, and that you don't hate me too much for the video I posted yesterday. As a reward for sitting through it, you may watch my dogs play in the snow. I'll see you guys soon!

Chipotle burritos this year: 31
Subscribers: 40,706
Comments from new subscribers who only watch me because Charlie told them to: Priceless.

Sunday on the Couch

2010-12-05T14:28:00.005-04:00

For the past few months, I've avoided gushing about my relationship with The Situation online, for fear of driving people away with all the nauseating gooey loveness... but sometimes I just can't hold it back. I am so happy and so in love.

I'm lying on his couch, covered in a blanket, and he's crooked at the opposite end, asleep with his face against the seat back. My feet are pressed between his hands, keeping them warm. I never understood why people romanticize the act of watching someone sleep until right now. I like the way his shoulders sway up and down when he breathes. I like being able to study the contours of his face at rest. I like just being here with his body in close proximity to mine. It's surreal to think I've only known this person for a year, because nothing feels more like home than this.

Aaand I'm starting to sound like an obsessive basement serial killer or something. Which is exactly why I normally keep these thoughts to myself.

Chipotle burritos this year: 31
Subscribers: 39,831

Potter and French and Flu!

2010-11-24T15:58:00.002-04:00

Aaaaah. Hey, guys. Between final exams and NaNoWriMo and packing and driving home for my winter break, I feel like I've been running laps ever since we last spoke. But you, Blog, are exactly what I need to unwind. You are like a big comfy pillow. Made of angels. And you smell like tea and bubble baths. Because I don't have the attention span to form paragraphs right now, I shall now proceed to make random bullet points of things on my mind.*

--I've now seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 two times, and have plans to see it again with my entire family tomorrow. It is BY FAR my favorite of the movies, and I have very few complaints. However, my complaints are valid, and they are as follows: 1) Why would Regulus have his full name on his bedroom door? 2) Why would Hermione pack more than one coat? 3) Since when are elevator doors impermeable to Dementors? 4) Why is Movie!Voldemort always so... green? 5) It's unfair to Harry to make him say idiotic things like "What's the trace?" just to reiterate plot points. 6) How did Ron not get hypothermia after he crawled out of ice water, fully clothed, and then hung out for fifteen minutes?

--My final exam in French didn't go spectacularly. There was a full page devoted to grammatical rules I'd barely ever heard of before, because most people in the class were either better prepared in high school, or have already taken a full year of French at the university level. I studied like it was my job, and I tried hard, so... we'll see. Je suis très, très stupide.

--Until this week, my mother has always operated under the assumption that the flu is a myth, and that to succumb to minor sickness is a sign of weakness. But, thanks to karma, my poor mom was just attacked by her first flu in twenty-five years. She's infected my dad, and is now inevitably infecting me. As of this moment, I feel fine, other than a few nerve-wracking body aches... but I am coming to terms with the fact that I'll probably be spending my Thanksgiving holiday... losing food.

--My new writing venture, Presence, is getting off to a crazy start. I already have more blog-related email than I can respond to, which is both daunting and amazing. I'm still finding my footing and trying to figure out exactly what the site is going to be, but its readers are already blowing me away with their insight and humor and kindness toward each other and geez!

--Nanowrimo is quite the challenge this year, but I'm still going. I had to take a full week off to focus on finishing my academic quarter, but I've spent a large part of today trying to get back on track. I've accepted that I might not finish the race to 50,000, but I'm not going to let myself quit. Who's with me!?

--I just posted a new video on hayleyghoover, and I think it's pretty good. I bitch and satirize and sit on the floor of my dorm room in front of a blanket I taped to my dresser. A must-see!

And that's pretty much it, as far as I can remember. What have you guys been up to? What were your feelings on Deathly Hallows? Any tips on how I can fight this flu before it happens? What's your blood type? Really, anything you have to contribute that will give me a break from writing would be greatly appreciated. I seriously might die in front of my computer, fingers outstretched, gasping for breath. Or maybe I'm a drama queen.

Either way, I hope you're all having a lovely day, and I can't wait to catch up with you again soon!

Chipotle burritos this year: 30
Subscribers: 38,636

*That sounds exactly like the beginning of a second grade essay. "My name is Hayley Hoover, and I am going to tell you about my favorite things. This is a list of my favorite things."

Presence

2010-11-16T16:12:00.002-04:00

It drives my mother crazy, but I've always found that the best time to start a project is in the middle of chaos. What better occasion to take up scrapbooking than when your bedroom floor is covered with clothes? Who's to say that wrapping Christmas presents is a task better suited to a clean table than to a desk scattered with open paint bottles? And really, can you think of a more convenient time to start an online magazine than halfway through NaNoWriMo and college finals?

Ah yes, so the doughnut's finally out of the bag*. This project was originally slated for takeoff on September 1st, but my classes ended up being much more challenging than I'd anticipated, and I had to push it back until I got things under control. A few of my stealthier blog readers started to catch on months ago (looking at you, Whimsy, Alison, fantasyvfacts, Emily, and Lauren), and it's pained me to ignore their inquiries until I was ready for a big reveal... but today is finally the day. You, blog readers, are the very first ones to hear about my new online-magazine-of-sorts-slash-advice-column, Presence.

I decided to start this little sideline writing project after the overwhelming response to my posts on here regarding gay rights, weight loss and body image. I've received an astounding number of messages asking for blogs about certain topics universal to the teenage experience, for more "issue posts," and for other sorts of big-sisterly advice. A few people even suggested that I write a weekly advice column on this blog, and loads of others have asked for recommendations of books, youtube channels, movies, etc. This all really intrigued me, but I couldn't help but wonder... what qualifies me to be anyone's big sister figure? Most of the Hayleylujah Chorus readers are here because of my youtube videos, or fiveawesomegirls, or some connection to me in real life. This blog and its surrounding community is so much fun, and I absolutely never intend to let it go, but maybe it's time for me to also have a satellite project that's more about the readers and less about me.

So, to answer the inevitable questions, the Hayleylujah Chorus is not changing at all. I'm going to keep coming here and being equally obnoxious on my regular sporadic, unpredictable schedule, talking about the same range of things. I'm just branching out into another area, too, with a little less first person and a little more reader interaction. If you're interested in following my new project (although you are under absolutely no obligation and I'll try not to talk about it too much over here, so as not to alienate those who aren't part of it), you can click here to learn more about it. I hope to see some of you other there, maybe, and if not, I'll see you guys around these parts soon!

Chipotle burritos this year: 30
Subscribers: 37,959 (Thanks, Charlie.)

*"Cat" has never made sense to me.

Gaaaaaah!

2010-11-08T19:29:00.002-04:00

I am in an unpleasant mood, Blog, and I will tell you why: GROUP PROJECTS ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE.

This quarter, I've stupidly found myself enrolled in a class whose entire grade, unbeknownst to me, consists of five ten-page papers, to be completed with the "help" of several other group members. I volunteered to compile and edit four of the five projects, less out of the kindness of my heart than out of my need to be in control of my own grade, and have therefore spent at least two weeks out of every month this quarter stressing myself to the point of near combustion over a class I don't even care about.

I like all the people I'm assigned to work with, but only two of them have consistently put in their share of time and effort, leaving me and one other girl (Brittany; she's adorable) to write several supplementary pages at the last minute, every time. As a group, we've scheduled a few meeting times every week, and me, Brittany, and one other guy have spent the majority of these meetings shaking our heads and laughing about the fact that we are always the only ones to even show up. On top of that, out of the people who have sent me their work on time each week, the vast majority of emails I receive are written on about a third grade level. At the beginning, I chalked this up to the fact that I'm too harsh a critic, and I devoted a few hours to correcting their mistakes without mentioning it. But it came to the point in my editing process this weekend that I actually called my parents to read them excerpts from the drafts I had to work with. My dad couldn't speak through his laughter. My point is, if these guys were just horrible writers, that would be one thing. But they must be taking advantage of the extra editing time I put in, because if they turned in papers like that to teachers, they would be failing out of school. Either that, or I'm setting the standards for myself way too high and should stop working so hard for my grades, since writing like that can pass a class.

Meanwhile, everything I do in my French class comes out to a C, even when I trick myself into thinking I'm improving. My high school French teacher was this little quirky, lovable, crazy ball of hyperactivity, and while she had enough enthusiasm to be heard around the school building, I definitely did not learn enough to prepare myself for the level of course I'm taking now. The problem is, my college has three ten-week trimesters rather than two semesters, so by the time we stopped reviewing and launched into the new material, it was too late for me to drop the class and rework my whole schedule. And even if I could have switched to a lower level, I'd already spent over 200 freaking dollars on textbooks that were shrink-wrapped, so they can't be sold back to the bookstore once they've been opened. I had no other option but to stick with it, so I've been raking in the C's and crossing my fingers for my upcoming exams.

Tomorrow morning, I have to go into a room alone with my professor and hold a five-minute conversation with her, entirely in French, about a random question. She emailed us some examples, and these aren't questions like "Tell me about your family." A few of the options include "Do you believe celebrities deserve to be harassed by the paparazzi because they chose to be famous?" and "Do you believe in predestination?" These are things I'd have a hard time talking about in English for five minutes, and I still stumble when answering some yes-or-no questions in class. A few days ago, I wrote a paragraph in response to each of her examples, and I've spent the weekend going over them and practicing reading them aloud. I don't know how else to study, since I don't have any idea which vocabulary I'll need, and it's the grammar that confuses me. This exam accounts for 10% of my final grade, and I have one more written test next week worth 15%. It really stresses me out knowing that I'm currently resting at a C, and that a whole 25% of my grade is still up in the air. I don't know how I'm supposed to not freak out about this.

Meanwhile, it's November, and my cursed competitive nature would not allow me to make the mature decision to not sign up for this year's NaNoWriMo. It's an added stress to know that my novel's just a click away, itching to be written, but that I have to ignore it. It's more important to pass French than it is to maintain an impressive word count, and Nano will still be going on in two weeks when I'm home from school with nothing to do... but I still don't like this. I started off really strong this year, and I'm worried I'm wasting all my first-week energy by taking such an early break. Gaaah.

Also, to make matters more fun, the stress of school combined with Daylight Savings to throw me off my regular medication schedule, and I missed a headache pill today, which has resulted in one of the worst and longest I've ever had. It's 7:15 now, and I've had strong pain in my neck, face, and the right side of my brain since 3:30 this afternoon. I also had to turn down an offer from my friend Carina to go see Ben Folds tonight-- for free, since they had an extra ticket-- because of my need to study French and my unreliable group for that other class. It doesn't help that Ben Folds has been tweeting pictures all evening of a city right nearby, just to rub in my face that I can't be there. Lame.

Anyway, I appreciate you being here for me to complain to, guys. I needed this little break from squeezing my head between my hands and throwing my French book across the room. I can't predict when you'll be seeing me here again this month, because I don't know when everything's going to calm down, but I promise I haven't forgotten you. I hope you're all having an easier week than I am. :)

Chipotle burritos this year: 30
Subscribers: 36,640
Nail color: I've been bare for a couple weeks, just for lack of time.

"Because I'm freaking hilarious!"

2010-10-26T21:23:00.002-04:00

It is ridiculously raining. I just walked ten minutes through the storm, from a meeting to my dorm room, and even my umbrella and rubber boots could not stand up to what felt like gallons of water being thrown directly at my face. Now I know how Shamu feels. Well, like, Shamu after some anger management.

I'm crazy about rain. In the same way that it makes me want to hide inside a sweater with too long of sleeves, rain makes me want to hide inside my brain. I have so many story ideas swirling around in there right now that I can't even see straight. I'm drinking peach tea and typing so loudly and with so much conviction that I look like I belong in a movie montage-- I'm the erratic journalist, racing to the deadline, all while maintaining an atmosphere of chicness and sexitude*. I've also taken to listening to French pop music, breaking character to clap excitedly when I understand it, and nodding noncommittally (moodily!) when I don't. I'm really very artistic and indie, guys. You have no idea.

Okay, enough of that. I can only be a hipster for so long before I want to punch myself in the face. I will now try to counteract the damage: McDonald's! A genuine interest in the wellbeing of Lindsay Lohan! The unironic purchasing of t-shirts with "Hollister" written on them! There we go. Balanced and back to normal.

What's up, guys? Lately, I've been thinking about this internet culture that most of us are deeply invested in, and how it appears to people on the outside. As odd as it sounds, I spend most of my time around people with lifestyles so similar to my own, that I can go weeks without remembering that what I do is really, really strange. Last week, I mentioned twitter in a class, and some guy in the back of the room sighed loudly in response. "I hate twitter," he said, as if he couldn't have been more serious about anything, ever. "How self-involved are you?"

I can never predict ahead of time how I'll react to confrontation, because I either go completely silent, or retort as cockily as possible. It all depends on my mood, the setting, and the person provoking me. And apparently I was in Fight Mode on that particular morning, because I laughed, shook my head, and said, "7,000 followers' worth?" Which was, admittedly, both self-involved and a stupid thing to say in front of people whom I can now never mock online.

The guy then said, "See, I think that's disgusting. Why do that many people need to hear what you're doing today?"

I'd already started blushing, realizing that it was a pointless argument that would only end in me sounding like I was obsessed with myself, but I guess I had an adrenaline rush, because there was suddenly no turning back. I figured I'd better go big or go home. I shrugged and said, "Because I'm freaking hilarious!"

Guy: "Yeah, it's stuff like that. I hate twitter and blogs and all that. Anyone who wants can go online and write whatever they're thinking, and then other idiots read it and convince the writer that they're famous or something."

Me: "Well, mine's kind of different. I don't just write my opinions on Justin Bieber." As these words left my mouth, I became suddenly aware of the fact that I end each post with the nail polish brand I'm wearing, and that sometimes my tweets are somewhat obscure references to the personal lives of Disney Channel actresses... but he didn't need to know that part. What he did need to know was that, "I'm a professional writer," (I technically am!) and that "People read what I have to say because they want to."

I wish I had a better story for you, but our debate pretty much ended there. Class had ended and, as heated as the discussion had been, I was still more interested in the prospect of lunch than I was in defending my own dignity. He said something passively polite, like, "Well, I've never seen what you write, but maybe you're different," and then I ate a sandwich.

I wanted to recount this conversation to you guys, though. Partially to provide a less biased view of what an annoying person I am in the real world, so you don't get your hopes up too high, and partially because I know a lot of you can relate. Maybe our generation has become irrevocably shallow and selfish due to the large-scale outlets for adolescent vanity available through our computer screens, but I like to be a little more optimistic about it. Internet culture allows us to form heroes and quasi-celebrities around those who offer something we desire, instead of always limiting us to what major media corporations deem Fame-worthy. Sure, Kim Kardashian is still a household name in our society, but internet communities allow us to also follow people who make us laugh, or whose self-produced music makes us happy, or who make videos about things we care about. I may be bombarded with Kim Kardashian, but now I have the ability to idolize someone like Natalie Tran, too. Not because she had a nice butt (although she might; I haven't studied it extensively), but because she has creative things to say. Natalie probably wouldn't have peddled her talents through auditions for TV shows, or taken her clothes off in order to be noticed more**, but youtube is the perfect environment to bring people like her to the attention of people like me. Do you get what I mean? Do you agree?

Anyway, that's just what's running through my spastic mind tonight. I hope you're all having a good week, and that you're not letting the news about Hiccup Girl upset you too much. I'd apologize for the gap between posts, but you know how that goes. You've heard it all before. You guys stick by me even when I suck, and for that, I will leave you with this.

Chipotle burritos this year: 29
Subscribers: 36,148
Nail color: Just clear Sally Hansen Hard As Nails.

*Don't say anything; let me have my dreams.
**Not that any of us would object! I mean. Not that... OTHER people... would... object.

A Note on Body Image

2010-10-18T19:12:00.003-04:00

My name is Hayley Hoover, and my body is freaking awesome.

I've been doing this for almost five years. By now, my skin is thick enough that rude, ignorant youtube comments pretty much explode on impact when they hit my rock-hard self-esteem of steel. It doesn't even begin to sting anymore when I read something like "ur fat," because I know for a fact that I am not. And even if I were, I've reached a level of confidence at this point in my life that I no longer feel the desire to match anyone else's standards. My clothes fit comfortably, I can hike up a hill without losing my breath, my skin sits taut and smooth over my muscles, and I feel good. Sure, there are days when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and cringe a little bit, but that's because I'm a girl and we have self-doubt wired into our brains at birth already, without any contributions from stupid boys who have probably never been within a foot of a boob. What I mean to say is, if you want to hurt my feelings, tell me I'm a bad writer, or an incurably mean person, or say something cruel to somebody I love. But if your goal is to bring me down, don't even bother with "Failed boob to body ratio." My body is hot, my brain is hotter, and my shape has zero effect on who I am as a person.

I had a friend in middle school who wore nothing but big sweatshirts every single day, because she was built like a Playboy bunny and had a movie star face, and boys would tease her by assuming she was promiscuous. She was beautiful, but if she wore anything remotely form-fitting, she was tortured as much as the girls with acne or extra pounds. If even the girls our society deems perfect can't escape ridicule from idiots, why should you allow rude remarks to get in your way?

My mother always tells me that some boy on the schoolbus once called her hairy, and somehow that one little comment stuck with her for years... so long that, in high school, when that same guy asked her out, she took heaps of pleasure in declining his offer. You don't know her, but my mom is smokin'. And part of what makes her so gorgeous is the fact that she understands how little it matters to be perfect-looking, and the fact that, while she's out being this stunning role-model, that kid from the schoolbus is probably raising more little jerk boys who will never be as awesome as she is.

Girls, I know you've heard it said before, but listen. I'm not a model. I'm not old and wise. I'm just a healthy, happy twenty-year-old girl who spends too much time on the internet, and I have no reason to lie to you. You kick ass. You're awesome. You don't have a perfect body, but thank God, because life sucks just as much for people who do. There are parts of you that are majorly pretty, and it's up to you to decide who deserves to comment on them. If someone makes you feel ugly, forget them. Criticism like "ugly" happens even to the people you think are beautiful, so it can't be all that valid. If someone makes you feel uncomfortable, deal with it or ignore them. You are hot, but you are also a hell of a lot more than that.

I'm not writing this blog post just to brag about my level of comfort with my self-image, because I was thirteen once, and there are few things less inspiring than hearing how happy everyone else is when you despise the way you look. I also don't want to be Tyra Banks and scream and cry and preach all day, because it's not exactly reassuring to watch a millionaire model talk about how hard it is to be a size six. What I do hope I can accomplish, though, is to tell each and every girl out there who reads this that guys who make comments on your appearance are complete and utter morons. You are not worthless for having cellulite; the comments of those who mention it are what's worthless.

Chipotle burritos this year: 29
Subscribers: 35,857
Nail color: Plain, for once. Riding this whole "I'm natural and beautiful" wave as long as possible. Also lazy.

Since August

2010-10-10T22:38:00.004-04:00

"I'd never given much thought to how I would die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go."

I'd never given much thought to how I would address my blog readers, had I taken an unannounced month-and-a-half hiatus and made many of them growl at me, but catching them off guard with an inane and irrelevant quote from Twilight seems like a good way to start.

What? I don't know. That made even less sense in print than it did in my head. I think what I'm trying to say is HELLO, GUYS. I AM SORRY. I AM VERY, VERY SORRY. School has been giving me a constant and painful noogie since the beginning of the quarter, and on most weekdays, I've found myself weighing the pros and cons of showering, breathing, sleeping and eating, because my massive stack of homework has allowed for me to choose only two of the above. Still, I feel guilty. I should have blogged smellily, breathlessly, on narcotics, and whilst wearing a feedbag*. I am a blogging failure, and I deserve whatever the modern middle-class American equivalent to being stoned in the streets.** But can we just put that all in the past for now? So much has happened since August and I sort of want to bounce up and down and tell you things without feeling like you're glaring at me. Okay? Okay.

Since August, I:

--Moved back into college, where I now live with one of my best friends, Heather, in a little white room with sloping ceilings and a colorful world map above my bed, so I can lean back and fantasize about moving to a magical land without homework.

--Skirted any existential crisis I'd anticipated would accompany my turning twenty. It turns out that twenty feels a lot like nineteen, except slamming doors becomes less acceptable and people expect you to phase out of wearing tight t-shirts with words written across the boobs. Luckily, these two particular traits of teenagedom were never my favorites to begin with, so I haven't missed them yet. What I will miss, though, is this. Entering a new decade of life means starring as Liesl von Trapp is but a distant dream.***

--Had a birthday party that ended in DESTRUCTION. We went to Chipotle, had a cake with contraband candles (they're not allowed in the dorms, because a tiny wax stick can wreak havoc on cinderblock and brick) and the whole shebang, before we were ordered to file into the first floor hallway because of a tornado warning. It was surprisingly fun, though. Just like John Green's character in Let It Snow, I've always loved the inconvenience of bad weather.

--Started taking some new classes that, for the most part, anger me SO MUCH THAT I'M SLIPPING INTO CAPS LOCK. I don't feel like getting into it tonight, since my hatred for my current course load makes my blood course loads of jagged spikes throughout my body and OH MY GOODNESS IT IS HORRIBLE. But that is a story for another day.

--Have picked up running even more seriously, and am now putting in about five miles a day. I like to think that stress is converting itself into energy and giving me superhuman strength.

--Got my first speeding ticket! I was on my way back to school tonight, not exhibiting any unusually erratic behind-the-wheel behavior as far as I know, but I was admittedly going faster than the speed limit. The whole event was pretty anticlimactic. The police officer was friendly to me, I didn't cry, I didn't slam into the highway shoulder rail when I got back on the road, and he didn't search the car or find any of the illegal drugs I didn't have. It still doesn't make for a very exciting story, but I did find out that every other member of my family has been pulled over in the exact same town. I've never really considered us to be a wild gang of daredevils, but hey, each day brings new discoveries.

--Have been to an eye doctor (they're fine), a dentist (them too), and a regular doctor (ten fingers, ten toes), all of whom ruled out several common causes for headaches, but could offer no explanation for the ones that have been attacking me daily. I went home this weekend to fill out a giant stack of paperwork, and have to drive back this coming Friday to see a migraine specialist. At this point, I'm pretty much used to walking around with what feels like a stack of bricks on my neck, but would really like to eliminate the charming side-effect that is my need for extra sleep. Because, as I previously mentioned, I don't have time for extra sleep, and I reckon it's probably dangerous to try eating at the same time.

--Made a particularly whiny list of white girl problems in my first post-hiatus blog entry. Sorry. WHY DO YOU GUYS LIKE ME?! Wait. Counterproductive. Double sorry.

And that's the basic outline, I think. If I happen to awaken suddenly, realizing that I forgot to tell you about something majorly fascinating and pertinent to your wellbeing as a person I probably have never met... I'll be sure to tell you in the next year or two, whenever I remember I have a blog. Haha. You guys are one amazingly loyal group of people, and I can't express how grateful I am that you continue to forgive me for getting too caught up in my own personal drama to, um, record my own personal drama for the internet. I hope you all have a lovely day, and remember how much I appreciate you, even when I blatantly ignore you for months at a time. :-p

Chipotle burritos this year: 28
Subscribers: 35,635
Nail color: Finger Paints, "Art You Kidding Me?"

*Actually...
**Being denied access to cable television? Only being allowed to purchase tall Starbucks beverages? Having to wear previously-owned clothing?!
***That Rolf totally botched some of the lyrics. Put a hat on me and I'd out-prance him. Nazi. (Not the actor. I mean. Sorry, dude.)

Headache.

2010-08-31T23:23:00.002-04:00

Hey guys. I really, really hate being whiny like this. I didn't choose to participate in BEDA just so I could beg other people to share the burden, or so I'd have a platform from which to waaah every evening.

I've been getting headaches all year, but they became spectacularly worse this week. I contemplated not posting anything tonight, because since about 8:30 (it's 11:30 now), I've felt like there's a tight, heavy band around my skull. I've had pills, two cups of caffeinated tea, and one hopeless little aroma therapy candle burning from my desk, just to ease my mother's conscience, since we have no idea how to make the aching stop. I still feel tired, despite the energy-boosting drugs and pint of liquid in my stomach, but every time I close my eyes, I just lose my ability to distract myself from the pain. It doesn't make any sense. I eat so well. I exercise a lot, but not to the point of exhaustion or anything. I drink more water than anyone I know, and I get eight hours of sleep every night, and the headaches occur whether or not I've looked at a computer all day. My experience at the eye doctor's, while slightly traumatic (I reluctantly allowed her to give me eye drops, which I'd never had before, but couldn't turn off my spastic flinching long enough for them to complete all the tests... they probably went back in their break room and told everybody they had a psychopath patient), was altogether pointless. As I suspected, my vision is darn near perfect. Too bad I'd rather wear a monocle than feel like my head is being perpetually squeezed between Hagrid's hands.

I'm going to the regular doctor on Thursday. I don't care if he prescribes for me to daily inject my own brain with nuclear waste-- that'd be a cake walk compared to enduring head pressure like this back at school, without even my mom's adorable-but-worthless "Autumn Wreath" candle to provide comic relief.

Sorry to be a Debby Downer. It's been a fun month, and the readers and commenters of this blog have been like a cheerful song-and-dance number at the end of a crappy TV show. Thanks for sticking with me, even when all I do is complain.

And on that note, I have to go place a pillow over my head and let out a string of excruciated whimpers until sunrise. See you soon. <3

Mamaghoover Takes a Turn

2010-08-30T20:17:00.003-04:00

I can’t believe I’m doing this. She asked; I declined. She asked again and I said “your readers don’t want to hear what your mother has to say.” “But," she said, "I’ve had a headache all weekend, I’m exhausted and The Situation is on skype and. . . ." So here I am.

I want to apologize in advance for what is sure to be a very mundane, uneventful post. Hayley has been writing circles around me since she was seven. In fact, Hayley began her writing career at age 4 when she was jealous because Jess could write the word “stop." She’s been at it ever since.

When she was five, after she had written every member of the family a book as a Christmas gift, she asked my mother “Grandma, how many books have YOU published?” I think we knew then that she was serious about this writing biz.

What else can I tell you about Hayles? She has been a complete and utter joy from the moment she was born. Her nickname when she was little was “the angel child’ because she always had that little spark in her that filled the room with light. The hayleyghoover you see on youtube and vlogs and blogs is pretty much the real deal. She doesn’t hide much, she never pretends to be someone she’s not. She has always known exactly who she is and what she wants out of life.

Hayley makes her father and I proud all the time. We are her biggest fans and I’ve been accused on more than one occasion of “stalking” her on the Internet. The truth is I love watching whatever she comes up with. (But, I didn’t really like the ‘wine cone’ video.)

What makes us most proud is the heart she has developed for others, especially the girls she works with each year at Royal Family Kids’ Camp. This camp for children who have suffered from neglect and abuse, is an extremely rewarding experience for all those involved. It is also physically and emotionally exhausting. One of my greatest joys as a parent is watching Hayley (and my other children) pour themselves out for these sweet campers who have suffered in ways no one deserves.

If you were hoping I would tell you what the “g” stands for in hayleyghoover, sorry to disappoint. As Hayley has said many times before—it’s gansta!

Hayles will be back tomorrow night, I promise!

Sensing:

Today I saw: a sweet middle school boy sing an awesome “Amazing Grace” at church. The poise and maturity of this young man (not to mention his voice) gave me chills.

Heard: The raucous laughter and banter of my extended family around the dinner table.

Smelled: fresh basil from the herb garden. Is there anything better than fresh basil?

Tasted: An entire buffet of wonderful food prepared by my mom. I am so fortunate to still have my mom with me.

Touched: a soft, fuzzy peach picked off a tree in my yard.

Aim or A-I-M?

2010-08-29T22:01:00.002-04:00

Thanks for all your well wishes on yesterday's post, guys. It's a little bit comforting to know that my phobia isn't uncommon, and your comments made me less nervous for my appointment tomorrow. I'm just going to go in there, bite my lip, and hope it goes by quickly. I hope. Hopefully.

In other news, my headache persisted all night, and even after several Tylenol, I barely slept. I was exhausted this morning when I forced myself into the shower, and I skipped church to take a nap. I pretty much slept all day, and yet I still feel tired now. Maybe I'm getting sick? I don't know. That would be better than allowing these pains to continue, unexplained.

To lighten the mood a bit, I've decided to take an easy way out of tonight's blog and answer one of those ridiculous myspace surveys from my childhood-- seriously, this time. That's what people did in their xanga blogs, right? Hold on, I'll find one that looks particularly stupid. "75 Questions I Bet You've Never Been Asked Before." This sounds promising!

1. First thing you wash in the shower?: I shave my legs first.

2. What color is your favorite hoodie?: Gray.

3.Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?: MAYBE IF HE DIDN'T LIVE SO FRIGGIN FAR AWAY. Yes.

4. Do you plan outfits?: No.

5. How are you feeling right now?: Mentally tired, physically restless.

6. What's the closest thing to you that's red?: Assuming coral counts as red, practically everything in my room.

7. Do you say aim or A-I-M?: I say it's 2010.

8. Last dream you remember having?: My teeth falling out. I have that a lot.

9. Did you meet anybody new today?: No.

10. What are you craving right now?: Liposuction. I ate something like three cupcakes today.

11. Do you floss?: Not as often as I should. Maybe the guilt that stems from my lack of flossing routine is responsible for those dreams.

12. What comes to mind when I say "cabbage?": Hmm. "Why in the world am I filling out a myspace survey?"

13. When was the last time you talked on AIM?: Probably when I got my braces on and I really wanted Jon S. to hold my hand during couples' skate.

14. Are you emotional?: Well. Yes, I am, but I don't tend to express those emotions typically in my everyday life.

15. Would you dance to the taco song?: This was obviously not intended for people my age.

16. Have you ever counted to 1000?: No.

17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?: Okay, no, I can't do this anymore.

Today, I saw: the inside of my head, as I slept.
Today, I heard: the voices in my head, as I slept.
Today, I smelled: the made-up aromas of my dreams, as I slept.
Today, I touched: my bed, as I slept.
Today, I tasted: a ton of food at my grandma's house. Some desires are stronger than headaches.

Chipotle burritos this year: 24
Subscribers: 34,054
Nail color: "Parisian Plum," Cover Girl

My Secret

2010-08-28T21:56:00.002-04:00

Hey, guys. Not really feeling up to the task of blogging tonight. I have a nasty headache. For the past several months, I've been having them nearly every day, like clockwork, at both three and nine pm. They don't change or go away-- no matter what or when I eat, when or how much I exercise, whether or not I take any medicine. A while ago, I started suspecting that it might have something to do with my vision (what else could it be?), despite the fact that I've never had problems seeing, and the headaches don't seem to increase when I read a lot or spend a lot of time on the computer. Either way, I'm going to the doctor to get my eyes checked this week, just in case. I've never had a vision exam before, because I have this sort of... phobia. Of eyes. I don't usually talk about it, and I don't think I've ever told the internet before, mostly out of fear that people will think I'm exaggerating and touch their eyes around me or something, to be funny. But it's true. The thought of anything being too close to someone's eyes... particularly mine (I can put my own hands around mine, but no one else can)... it makes me shiver. Not in an "Oh, Hayley's so eccentric and weird, lalala!" way. It's honestly one of the things that disturbs me most, totally devoid of humor. You should feel honored that I trust you guys enough to tell you about that.

So yeah. Headache. Ow. I'll leave you with my daily senses, and I hope you all have lovely Sundays. I'll see you tomorrow night.

Today, I saw: this amazing blog. I just looked at nearly the entire thing.
Today, I touched: the perfect little black answer to my skirt prayers. I've been searching for one like that for years, and the dream became a reality today. It even has pockets.
Today, I smelled: brownies baking downstairs.
Today, I heard: my dad, who just screamed. I think he's watching a sporting event.
Today, I tasted: Chipotleeeeeeee.

Chipotle burritos this year: 24
Subscribers: 33,961
Nail color: "Parisian Plum," Cover Girl

For Whom the Skype Ping Tolls

2010-08-27T23:33:00.004-04:00

Greetings and salutations, dear singers of the Hayleylujah Chorus! My name is PJ and I am Hayley’s friend, comrade and consistent cause of eyebrow twitching. It’s so good to finally meet you, as I hear about you guys CONSTANTLY; time and again I’m told you hear of me as well. I feel as if we are already good friends, remember the time I dyed my hair pink accidentally? Ha, good times.

What am I doing here? Well, as you should certainly know by now Hayley Hoover is a procrastinator (aren’t we all?), so I should have foreseen the impending request to fill in for a night but this was not so- after enjoying my supper of hot and frozen pizzarolls, the skype ping woke me from my greasy cheese-filled stupor.

Hayley Hoover: wanna write my blog for me?

PJ Scott-Blankenship: ...who are you? Are you feeling well?

Hayley Hoover: shh

PJ Scott-Blankenship: OH I GET IT, it's still August…you're doing BEDA still

Hayley Hoover: yes.

Hayley Hoover: seriously, wanna write my blog for me?

PJ Scott-Blankenship: *sigh* fine

So here I am, feeling like a complete fool with no idea how to carry on a one-sided conversation with a thousand strangers. How are you? What is your favorite movie? Do you like Mario? All I can say is that I’m happy to be here, and even happier to have Hayley as a friend. Oh! There’s an idea, let’s get some insight into the enigma known as Hayley G. Hoover-please note: the enigma is probably laying stomach-down on her bed wondering if her own kitchen has pizzarolls.

All I can say is that above all else, Hayley makes very real and deep connections with the things she cares most about, and you know something? You all are on that list. Hayley is very aware of the community around her, and though modest about it takes an unimaginable amount of time reading every email, atreply, comment, and reply she gets. The prime example of this the tale of how I met Hayley Hoover.

Wanting to start a new life, I left my tiny town on the Scioto River and ran to Athens to attend Ohio University, hoping with every ounce of my being I could escape the legacy of the 25-student-class from which I graduated. On my own I rolled my pudgy self across the hills of OU, and after a long day, I sat at the dining hall with my mother-I looked up and rubbed my eyes thinking I saw something familiar but the image had since darted away like an antisocial fish in a crowded pond…full of frat..fish in a…school. Okay, I tried to make a fish and school and education joke there, WHATEVER.

Anyway, bright and early the next morning I completed orientation by being the first in my group to register for classes and thus was let go, with laptop on…lap, I sat near the escalators of the university center, and felt my eyes glance up for no reason whatsoever. I need to preface the following by saying, I am/was a proud member of the lonelygirl15 community, and on our community blogspot there was a featured story about a popular girl on youtube who happened to look like the character Sarah. Now, slowly descending before my very eyes like a squirrel-kissing angel I saw her, my mind compiled the facts to confirm what I saw:

Thinking it was a real kismet moment, I uploaded a video there on the spot, never actually thinking she’d watch it, let alone that we’d meet for real, and that we’d end up being incredibly close and sharing so much together.

When I came out of the closet Hayley was there; when I was left friendless and forgotten on Halloween Hayley was there, when I had a huge birthday party and invited all my friends Hayley baked the cake, when I was locked out of the school’s computer system and thought I had failed a midterm Hayley stuffed pizzarolls down my throat, and when Hayley and I made plans for the summer…Hayley forgot but her mom was there and then Hayley was there with a vengeance!

I think about how easily and strangely I came to know this girl, and I know that many of you would give so much to switch me places and are probably more deserving of it, and all I can say is that for the rest of my friendship with Hayley, I promise you that everything we do will be in your names, because if it wasn’t for great support like you Hayley wouldn’t do what she does and I’d never know her. I am eternally grateful for you guys, and will never be able to thank you enough.

Yours truly,

You can subscribe the heck out of PJ's awesome videos here and here, and read his blog here, and follow him on twitter.

Ye Olde YouTube

2010-08-26T21:42:00.002-04:00

I miss youtube. I miss things like this, and this, and this, and this. I miss thewinekone telling ten-minute stories that probably weren't true. I miss paperlilies reading her hater comments off pieces of paper. I miss boh3m3's background, and when even the "big" people made video responses to each other, and before anybody really knew how to edit. I miss horrible lighting and having to deal with whatever unflattering thumbnail happened to land in the exact center of your video. I miss 4x3 and the useless middle three stars and even a tiny bit of copyright infringement. I miss when lipsyncing took talent and when smosh was dreamy and when getting featured was an instant membership card into the clique of "people who mattered." I miss brookers. I even miss danielbeast.

In typical end-of-the-summer fashion, I wasted away my evening by watching old favorite videos from 2006. It started with this one, which led to several viewings of this one, and a tweeting of this one, and this blog. What about you guys? Were you around for the tubular Golden Age? Do you miss it? Do I sound like one of those nasty middle-aged women in the movie theater snarling at giggling middle schoolers and muttering things like, "In my day, we showed respect!" or am I justified?

Today, I saw: sooo many old TheHill88 videos. Have another.
Today, I touched: some mildly ugly shoes that my grandma (sweetly!) bought for me.
Today, I smelled: awesome pizza. It smelled like grease and dehydration and happiness.
Today, I heard: the sound of my mouse as I clicked around youtube, looking for an answer as to what I heard today.
Today, I tasted: way too much chocolate, as per usual.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 33,430
Nail color: "Parisian Plum," Cover Girl

Another Sad Day

2010-08-25T23:12:00.002-04:00

Another bad day today, unfortunately. First, the news that sixteen-year-old Nerdfighter and hayleyghoover follower, Esther Earl, died of cancer last night. I didn't know her, but I experienced her presence online over the last year, and she was quite the inspiring girl. It's absolutely tragic.

Far less important, but also emotionally distressing: today was Jess's farewell party. I self-medicated with an enormous episode of binge-eating, of unforgivable proportions. Mentally ill proportions. I cannot believe I ate that much today, truly. I'm sort of embarrassed to admit it, even, but it's hardly fair for me to share my weight loss success story without ever showing glimpses into the hard parts. Today was a sorrowful downward slide in the food department. I'll be making up for it for a week.

On top of all that, my mom and one of my sisters left for a business trip while I was traveling around, and their flight home got canceled, so I haven't seen either of them in what feels like forever, and they were stuck in a nasty airport all day. The garage door is growling as I type this, though, which means they're now home. Sorry for not feeling up to the senses and typical blog counters again today; I'm gonna go collapse on my mommy.

Your comments yesterday were beautiful and very much appreciated. Thank you for everything. I hope you all have nice Thursdays, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Bad News

2010-08-24T20:50:00.002-04:00

I'm depressed. I keep forcing myself to go for walks around my neighborhood, trying to clear my head and burn off some of the feelings I've been eating, but it's not working. Boyfriend and family members keep calling to ask how I'm doing, and I keep mumbling "fine." I am fine. I'm just depressed, too.

I haven't mentioned it yet because I like to convince myself that if I ignore something, it becomes untrue. Our relationship is all about dissecting feelings from a distant, mature angle, rather than getting overly caught up in emotions, so, until now, I've been a grown-up. I haven't walked around crying, and I haven't blogged about it, and I haven't even had a full conversation with her on the subject. I've behaved graciously all summer, but my heart is too heavy tonight for me to continue pretending. In three weeks, my very best friend is moving 2,474 miles away.

I hate being emo like this, but if you've been reading my blog for a while, you know how insanely close I am with Jess. She's been my absolute soulmate since we were four years old. We've never had a fight. She's one of the few people in the world I could never get tired of, even after straight weeks of nonstop togetherness. We are intense. And she's moving to Oregon.

I really don't even know what to say about it. I am genuinely thrilled for her-- she bought a one-way ticket across the country with the intention of starting a new, exciting life all by herself. I'm too nervous and skeptical of a person to try something like that. It's so right that she's doing it. What's more, she's doing it right now. Not giving herself any opportunity to be one of those people who takes local job after local job and never ends up leaving our small midwestern city. That's awesome. I'm excited and happy and anxious and proud for her. But I'm still... I mean. I knew that someday we'd grow up and have to live separate lives, but I didn't prepare for it to be so soon. I don't want her to stay here; she's supposed to go. And I don't want to go with her, because it wouldn't be anywhere near the right thing for me. And I don't want to go back in time and I don't want time to stop. It's just something that's Real and Now and unchangeable and, despite the good circumstances, it's really, really painful.

It hurts to need something you don't want.

Questions, Day 2

2010-08-23T19:31:00.003-04:00

Are you ready to have your mind blown by the second day of Ask Hayley Questions? Below, I've responded to as many as possible. If I didn't get to yours, it's probably because a) I've answered the same question a lot in the past, and will probably get around to including it in a FAQ of sorts, b) I've written it down and will try to devote a full post to it later, or c) it was too personal/difficult to put into a few sentences, etc. Whether your question appears in this post or not, I greatly appreciate that so many of you took the time to comment. I hope you all have a lovely Tuesday, and I'll see you tomorrow night.

Vicky: How and why did you decide you wanted to be a professional writer?
Hayley: In first grade, we wrote (very) short stories, got to type them on fancy computers, and read them aloud to the class. Mine was killer, and the other kids really listened and said they liked it. It was an amazing feeling, and I've sort of been chasing it ever since.

Morgan: How hard has the long distance thing gotten, at its worst?
Hayley: Our relationship is strong enough that even the sad times are totally worthwhile. I've never thought for a second that being single would be easier than missing him. That being said, however, sometimes it's pretty depressing. The worst part is saying goodbye after having been together nonstop for a week.

Stefan: If you made videos full time, do you think you could live off it?
Hayley: No, I couldn't. If I were to make videos every day, and if they were to receive the same attention that my fortnightly videos do now, I could maybe scrape by. But that's not going to happen, and I don't really want it to.

Tom: How do you feel about Nerdfightersecrets?
Hayley: In its short existence, that blog has already caused me a lot of pain. There's so much heartbreak and sadness oozing out of it that it's exhausting to read. I was willing to support it nonetheless up until people started publishing cruel and uninformed jabs at my friends. John and Hank's goal as community leaders is to give people a sense of belonging despite their differences. Making unfounded mean comments about the people you perceive to be popular is exactly like high school, and exactly the sort of negativity I try to avoid in my life.

Hannah and Elisabeth: My current relationship is about to become long-distance for the first time. Advice on how to make it work?
Hayley: Make special dates on Skype to talk and "hang out" like you would in real life. When it works, turn on video chat while you both do other things, too. Sometimes The Situation and I will sit in silence while I do homework and he answers emails. It sounds silly, but it reminds you that your relationship is real and normal, instead of trying to squeeze as much together-time as you can into one IRL weekend.

Meg: Is your hair straight, curly, or in between?
Hayley: All of the above. Naturally, a few random pieces of my hair are perfect spirals, but most of it is rather straight with a few kinks and waves.

Kelly: Do you have any advice for new vloggers?
Hayley: Practice editing as much as possible, find other vloggers with similar interests and try to form friends and contacts. Take collab opportunities when they come to you, and don't try too hard. Don't try to become some successful celebrity. Do it because it's fun.

Kaylaann93: What kind of music do you listen to when you run?
Hayley: Anything upbeat and positive. Sometimes the music that annoys me most in the car can motivate me the best while working out. For example, I often run to the soundtrack from Legally Blonde: The Musical.

Gillian: What did you do with the Hannah Montana barbie doll and the Ninja Turtles bedspread?
Hayley: Hannah sits happily on my desk, and he brags to people about the bedspread aaaall the time.

Kate: NSYNC or Backstreet? Which Spice Girl are you?
Hayley: NSYNC. Ginger.

Hannah: What's your favorite video you've ever made?
Hayley: My two favorites are my Makeup Tutorial and Pizza Rolls.

Sarah: If you could switch lives with one youtuber for a day, who would it be?
Hayley: John Green, and I'd spend the whole day reading unpublished writing of "mine" and molesting myself.

Toastburntbread: How did The Situation and you come to be this lovely couple?
Hayley: It's not some miraculously theatrical tale, but we don't really tell people how we met, so it can be our own private story.

Julie: Would you ever make a video about being a vegetarian?
Hayley: Probably not. I'm a very passive vegetarian. I mean, I stopped eating meat when I was five years old, so it's not exactly a struggle. My lack of meat consumption hardly ever crosses my mind. It's just how I am.

Lauren: Have you read The Hunger Games? Favorite Potter book/film? Are you seeing Deathly Hallows at midnight?
Hayley: I haven't yet, but I plan to. Half-Blood Prince, for both. Yes.

Abby: Have you ever seen Wicked?
Hayley: I've seen it something like five times.

Today, I saw: some stupid western. My dad works so hard all day that, once in a while, he likes to turn them on in the evenings and stare at them for hours while he half-sleeps in front of the TV.
Today, I touched: my dog's leash. She's great.
Today, I smelled: very little, because my nose was too consumed in the fact that I kept bursting into tears, since The Situation left for home this morning.
Today, I heard: the beautiful Marion Cotillard sing in Nine, which I watched today for a second time in my sister's living room.
Today, I tasted: a McFlurry for the first time in many, many years. I bought it in an emotional stupor with the intention of eating my feelings.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 33,292
Nail color: In the transition period.

Questions, Day 1

2010-08-22T22:46:00.002-04:00

Super crazy busy day again! I only have about half an hour to write and post this, so I'm going to answer a handful of questions from yesterday's comments. I'll try to get to more of them tomorrow. If there's something you'd like to know and haven't already asked, feel free to comment on either this post or yesterday's. You guys are incredible, as always. Looking forward to reading the things you come up with!

Anna: "What are you looking forward to most about being a sophomore in college?"
Hayley: Living in close proximity to my school friends again.

Veronica: "Are you planning on doing Nanowrimo this year?"
Hayley: Of course! We'll see if I finish this time.

Nela: "What's your favorite piece of cutlery?"
Hayley: I'll go with spoons. You can scoop most forkable objects, but you can't fork liquid.

Kai: "How do you feel about being a 'Christian role model' at the camp you work at?"
Hayley: That's a really good question. My campers are eleven, so I don't condescend and try to act all perfect. I just try to be friendly and project happiness, even when I'm not feeling it.

Sammie: "What's your most played song on iTunes?"
Hayley: It's actually a three-second clip of The Situation saying, "We don't have any eggs!" because it makes me laugh. The top SONG, though, is "Even Though" by Darren Criss, from the MaMD soundtrack.

Kay: "Would you ever go sky diving? Do you drink the milk after you finish your cereal? Favorite fruit? Favorite chocolate bar?"
Hayley: I like to say that I would... but I'd probably chicken out. No, I don't. Strawberries... and kiwis... and peaches... and blackberries. Chocolove Strong Dark.

Tara: "Are you living on campus again this year?"
Hayley: Yep!

Caitlin: "Could you talk about your writing process?"
Hayley: Sure! I'll write a note to myself and talk about that sometime soon.

Christina: "Can you please recommend books to read? Something similar to Jessica Darling."
Hayley: Catalyst by Laurie Halse Anderson, Jake, Reinvented by Gordon Korman, The Bermudez Triangle by Maureen Johnson.

Ben: If you looked into the Mirror of Erised, what would you see?
Hayley: Food. Always.

Tessa: What is one day you'd like to go back and redo just because it was so fun?
Hayley: This weekend was fun enough for a replay.

Sarah: How does Date Night, in your mind, compare to Baby Mama and Mean Girls?
Hayley: They're all intended for different demographics, so they're obviously quite different. Obviously, Mean Girls is a total masterpiece-- I feel like I'm not even worthy to dissect it. Baby Mama didn't TOTALLY blow me away the first time I saw it, but it's now become one of my ultimate favorite movies over time. Date Night was really great, but not on a zomg-I-worship-it level.

Today, I saw: The Princess Bride for-- believe it or not-- the first time.
Today, I heard: "He Loves U Not" by Dream, in an attempt to relive my childhood.
Today, I smelled: groooooss KFC at a rest stop in Pennsylvania.
Today, I touched: a sleeping bag that I had scrunched into the passenger seat of my boyfriend's van. It was quite the feat. Quite the comfy one.
Today, I tasted: half a Hungry Howie's pizza. The Situation bought us one, and I had it half-balanced on my lap because it was so hot, as we drove down the highway at night, shoveling it into our faces. It was remarkably romantic.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 33,255
Nail color: Really needs to be changed.

Pancakes

2010-08-21T10:56:00.003-04:00

Hi! Very little time for blogging again, as The Situation and I are heading out to Philadelphia to see the glorious Paul and Storm perform, and to hang out with youtube legend Nalts. I'm currently on The Situation's bed, and he's sitting at his desk, purposefully ignoring me and surgically editing a video from his show last night... his best friend and I decided to take some artistic liberties with the filming of the video... and it was very funny at the time... but now he has about nine minutes of footage of trees and my laughter. He's really not amused.

Oh. He forgives me. Now I'm at the kitchen counter and he's making me blueberry pancakes. I must be pretty charming.

Anyway, yesterday was nice. I read a lot, bonded with my boyfriend's friends, and played the role of Awkward Uninvited Party Guest Who's Eating All the Food. At first I was hesitant to make strangers uncomfortable, but then my hunger became stronger than my will to succumb to social norms. I stood right in the middle of some group's conversation, silently, and ate pizza. I can't really convey to you how funny it was. Like Flight of the Conchords funny.

I feel kind of bad for having nothing to say and little time to say it in. I'll try to make the last leg of BEDA more kickass than the first. Hey, do you guys have any questions for me? Not, like, "wuts ur fave color?!" but anything you'd legitimately like to know? Leave comments, if you'd like. Other than that, uh, have a good Saturday! I'll see you all tomorrow.

Yesterday, I saw: lots of people I don't know.
Right now, I smell: a fresh blueberry pancake.
Yesterday, I touched: my feet. They were freezing. New York does this crazy thing where it gets cold at night.
Yesterday, I heard: my boyfriend being a musical prodigy, as per usual.
Yesterday, I tasted: homemade salsa that seemed to have some kind of fruit in it. Maybe mango? It was delicious.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: The internet's really slow right now, so I have no idea.
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

I can fly hiiiigher than an eeeeagle...

2010-08-20T11:31:00.002-04:00

Good morning! Busy day today. I'm going with The Situation to an annual party at one of his friend's houses, where we will, reportedly, "drink beer, chill, and jam." I'm not really one for beer-drinking, and unless anyone wants to lend me a clarinet and my sixth grade songbook, I am pretty much jamless. However, I am a decidedly good chiller.

The party is supposed to last until the part of tonight that is actually tomorrow morning, and as I am generally incoherent past one o'clock, I have to post this now. So, um. What's up? I went mini-golfing yesterday and (surprise!) learned that I'm a terrible mini-golfer. I also went on a cute little romantic dinner date, where I ate a bowl of pasta bigger than my head in a less-than-cute-little-romantic fashion, and fell asleep with my mouth wide open and my face flat against the couch while the "Fresh Water" episode of Planet Earth played. It was another wild and crazy day in the life of Hayley Hoover; it's times like this that I truly understand why it is people follow me on the internet.

Oh, and since I didn't really get into it yesterday, I want to thank each and every one of you who left comments on my short stories. Posting something like that is always a little awkward... I almost feel like that uncle who insists on singing "The Wind Beneath My Wings" at the wedding reception, even though he's only an average singer, and everyone has to stand around with champagne glasses, noncommittally half-smiling. I appreciate those of you who said you enjoyed reading them, and those of you who left constructive criticism, and those of you who read them but didn't comment, and those of you who didn't read them but still chose to stick around. You're all too awesome for words... so I must express my gratitude through song. DID YOU EVER KNOOOW THAT YOU'RE MY HEEEROOOOOO?

I think I'll leave you on that note. I hope you all have a lovely Friday, and I'll see you sometime tomorrow.

Yesterday, I saw: the gorgeous lake where this party is going to be taking place. I thought to myself, "I could stand here and look at this all day!" and then realized, like, "Well, that's good. Because tomorrow, I have to."
Yesterday, I smelled: I don't remember, but here's something funny. The other day, at the youtube gathering, The Situation started one of his songs and my friend Caitlin screamed with delight. "You like this song?" I asked. She replied, "Yes, and I smelled garlic bread right when it started, and my love for garlic bread combined with the music and it was beautiful."
Yesterday, I touched: a golf... putter? Is that what it's called? And I apparently touched it WRONG, because my boyfriend kept trying to show me the proper technique or whatever, and I kept trying to convey to him that I really couldn't have cared less. No offense to those who like mini-golf.
Yesterday, I heard: church bells. They're a constant presence around here.
Yesterday, I tasted: awesome apple pie that The Situation's mom made. He warmed it up and gave me a piece for breakfast. That's love.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 33,103
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

Car Rides and YouTube in 3D

2010-08-19T11:41:00.005-04:00

What? What's this? A blog? I have a blog?

Just kidding, guys; I didn't forget to post yesterday. At 12:23 PM, while we were on our way to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World with friends from the 818 youtube gathering, I interrupted conversation in The Situation's car to jab my finger at the digital clock and proclaim, "I have failed! I did not blog every day in August!" Unfortunately, though, we were about two hours away from my computer, and surrounded by hilarious and fun people, and about to watch Michael Cera be awkwardly sexy. So I accept any insults you'd like to throw at me, because I admit to having failed. But I have fun things to tell you!

I drove all through the night on Tuesday with Andy, The Situation's drummer, on our way to Chez Situation. He has a crazy nice hybrid car with a button instead of a key, and driving it sort of feels like ice skating on a freshly unsealed jar of peanut butter without any cuts on its surface. Perhaps I'm romanticizing this smoothness a little bit, since I was tired at the time and my old pickup truck is often reminiscent of riding a wild bull, but let me tell you-- those things are freakin' luxurious.

Vastly more interesting than Andy's car, though, was our six-hour conversation. You'd think it would be uncomfortable, being stuck in a small, enclosed space with someone you know rather casually, and I anticipated enough awkward silences that I brought a book with me, but it wasn't remotely weird. We literally didn't stop talking the entire ride. The Situation texted me several times to ask how we were doing and what was going on, and according to my text message history, Andy and I told our life stories at 10:30, talked about philosophy at 11:45, discussed the "oppressive patriarchal society to which we are slaves" at 12:30, got into religion sometime around one, and ended the journey in a slap-happy stupor-- involving jokes to which "penis" was the punchline-- at 5AM.

I crashed when we got into The Situation's house. It always puts me in that library-esque state of comfort. I only slept about four hours, though. When you wake up from a dream about hanging out with your awesome boyfriend and then realize he's in the next room, it's hard to choose lying still with your eyes closed over the option of poking him repeatedly until he'll get up and play with you.

So yeah. The Albany, New York youtube gathering! I genuinely had a lot of fun. We went to a burrito place for lunch (a good start), hung out in a park, and then went over to some little bar, where we stood in awe and amazement and wonder as members of our gang took turns performing absolutely beautiful poetry and beautiful songs. Caitlin Hill also performed "beautiful" dances to accompany Mike and Andy's set, causing me to lose my breath from laughing. After 2/3* of the Mike Lombardo Trio played (*fans face with hand*), I was introduced to the GORGEOUS music of Benjamin Jameson Morey. I'd never heard of him before, but he won me over instantly. Such clever and pretty and poignant lyrics, combined with a really endearing personality and altogether attractive presentation. You need to look him up. That's an order.

Then we went to the movie, which was... entertaining, and something I'm glad I saw, but not exactly my cup of tea, and then we all had an orgy**, and then I considered blogging, and then I fell instantly asleep on The Situation's couch. Now I'm eating scrambled eggs.

I'm seriously sorry if anyone was disappointed by a lack of post yesterday-- it broke my heart this morning to see that @kinseyheartsyou from twitter was waiting up for it. It means so much to me that you guys care so deeply about what I have to say. You're amazing. Honestly.

Yesterday, I saw: Albany, New York for the first time.
Yesterday, I heard: LizzieRadio perform live (her youtube channel is linked above). She was really good and so sweet.
Yesterday, I smelled: dead skunk on the highway.
Yesterday, I touched: my usually-not-IRL friend, Erica. A lot.
Yesterday, I tasted: a super gooey and delicious cheesecake brownie, made by my awesome new youtube friend Emily's mom.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 33,052
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

*I offered to sing the bass guitar parts, but they declined my offer. I have no idea why.
**No, we did not. I apologize-- I'm not even sure why I just found that funny.

Another short story!??

2010-08-17T19:12:00.005-04:00

I spent my day making another new video, going for a super long hike with my mom, and waiting for The Situation's drummer, Andy, to pick me up and take me to heaven. (I mean my boyfriend's house.) It's really been a less-than-eventful Tuesday, and it didn't provide me with any funny anecdotes or news to report. But, because I vowed to blog every day in August, and because you guys seemed to take well to the last one I posted... I've decided to bite the bullet and put up another short story. Once again, I honestly don't mind if you think it's boring or confusing or if you don't want to bother read it all-- I'd like to hear any and all opinions. And if you do enjoy it, awesome! Let me know which parts. I'm extraordinarily lucky to have an audience (especially a smart, kind one!) who can provide me with constructive criticism, and I want to make the most of it. So, without further ado, here's another untitled random selection from my fiction writing class.

" Of all the aphorisms used to show some kind of passive condolence to the victim of a brutal breakup, there is no expression more nauseating than “I know how you feel.” Pardon me, but until you’ve watched your girlfriend of almost a year engage in six extra-relational hookups—two white guys, one black guy, one lesbian, one straight girl, and one drag queen—all on a cable television reality show… until then, you do not know how I feel.

Like all my most pathetic stories, it began in Brett MacDougall’s basement. In high school, we used to go down there after practice to drink warm beer, recreationally beat each other up, and eat bright orange potato by-products that probably would have killed us if we hadn’t been athletes. We were sort of the Popular Crowd, but you wouldn’t have known that if you’d seen us. Twenty people, one couch, Brett MacDougall’s basement. Every single day. My friends were really into being popular, but I never paid a lot of attention. At graduation, when everyone else was bawling and clutching each other, I was ecstatic, knowing that anywhere I went next would have to be more exciting than the place I’d just left.

The thing is, when you go off to college an hour away, you hope your life will sort of, I don’t know, refresh itself, and that when you come home for a weekend, you’ll have a million hilarious stories and seventy new best friends, and you won’t feel so empty as you stare at a screen in hopes of seeing your girlfriend, who you have barely heard from since she got a real life, while you sit in Brett MacDougall’s basement.

But as soon as the clock hit 7:59 on that one fateful night in November, all my anxious feelings started melting away. I sat on the 1970s-style corduroy upholstery, surrounded by most of my old cross-country team, and some of the dance squad girls I’d graduated with. I checked the clock on my phone. Go time.

“YO; SHUT UP!” I yelled. I had the remote control in my palm, kicking up the volume on Brett MacDougall’s shitty TV, until the theme music drowned out everyone’s excited chatter.

“Seven aspiring actors,” announced a female voice over edgy instrumental music. “One house, one summer, and one goal: Who will be America’s next soap opera star?”

The music continued, and a handful of hot teens and twenty-somethings struck poses, announcing their names. I could feel excited tension bubbling all around me, when the camera finally landed on her. She looked like herself, mostly, but somehow… faker. Still, I beamed at the TV like a moron. “I’m Lindsey!” she shouted, spinning, her hair whipping around, as her named popped up below her. She blew a kiss at the camera, and I seriously think I shivered in response.

For the first fifteen minutes of the show, I was living large. Every time Lindsey came on screen, her friends would holler things like, “Get it, girl!” and at one point, someone punched me in the shoulder, saying, “Damn, Cole. Your girlfriend’s not just small-town-hot anymore. She’s reality-TV-hot.”

And then… and then it went downhill.

I’m not sure I can pinpoint the worst part of watching your girlfriend dry-hump strangers on national television, but I can compile a list of the top six: 1) Finding out that the girl who wouldn’t sleep with you because of her “morals” is a nymphomaniac who, apparently, only had morals against you, 2) Seeing the earrings you made her in Metalshop dangling from the very earlobe some stranger is licking, 3) Not being totally sure whether one of her partners is a natural man or woman, 4) Realizing your mother is at home, watching it, and 5) Being in Brett MacDougall’s basement while it happens to you, open-mouthed like the biggest moron on the face of the planet, feeling like there’s a dead pregnant squirrel lodged and rotting in your throat.

And, of course, the worst of all these. The moment when one of Lindsey’s friends looks you in the eye, holds a hand to her chest, and proclaims, 6) “Oh my God, Cole. I know how you feel.”

* * *

“Cole,” said a chick with blue hair on my video game screen. I didn’t respond, and just continued to stare at her, unmoving but for her ponytail swaying back and forth. My computer mouse was hidden amongst the filth in which I lived since driving back to school in a haze, somewhere in the general vicinity of Pringles Can Valley and Dirty Clothes Cavern. I didn’t care to look for it. The blue-haired avatar was used to combating all kinds of danger, facing peril around every corner, and looking hot, even when covered in mud, but without my manipulation, she was kind of boring.

“Hey! Faggot!” she said, this time with more force and less politeness. Also, she was a baritone.

It turns out that the voice was not coming from my computer after all. It was my roommate, Anthony, at the door of our shared dorm room, in another attempt to nag me back to life. “Dude, unlock the freaking door. You’ve been in there for like twelve hours.”

Had it only been that long? When you’ve fallen beyond rock bottom and into the deepest, darkest pits of despair, concepts like time and hygiene and not-scratching-your-own-ass-all-day just seem so trivial and energy-consuming. Instead, I’d chosen to spend my time listening to the same few bars of video game music repeating from my computer screen, while wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers, white soccer socks, a grease-stained t-shirt, and one of those winter hats with furry ear flaps.

“Use your key,” I yelled back, noticing by its hoarseness that my voice was just as reluctant to speak as I was to live. The video game music was then interrupted by the jingling sound of Anthony opening our door. Without entering, he popped his head into the room.

“It smells like alien piss in here,” he said, scrunching his nose. “What the hell have you been doing all day? Puking on yourself?”

I pulled my hat down over my eyes. “Sorry, man. I should be more courteous to you. I forgot that your girlfriend also banged a she-male on TV and that your life is also over.”

Anthony said, “Yeah, well, you look like Sasquatch and sound like a pansy.” He lowered his voice and added, “I have a girl with me, dude. What am I supposed to do about that?”

If I’d had more energy, I would have made a joke like, “Search ‘sexual intercourse’ on Wikipedia and start from there.” But I did not have more energy. Instead, I sighed. “Tell her your roommate is catatonic. Go to her room or something.” However, before I even finished mumbling the words, Anthony was kicking his way through my piles of trash, opening a garbage bag, and filling it with clothes and food alike.

“Hey!” I tried to exclaim, but it came out sounding feeble and apathetic. So I just went with it. “Okay, whatever. But don’t, like, throw away my iPod or some--”

“Hi,” said a girl, cutting me off. She’d entered the room in the middle of my sentence.

“Uh, hi,” I replied, finally feeling a little bit embarrassed about my appearance. I glanced at Anthony, who was cringing and scowling, then back to the girl. She was shorter, curvier, heavier-but-not-fat. She had dark pretty hair, and a necklace draped over her protruding collarbone. She didn’t look anything at all like blonde Lindsey with her supermodel dimensions and permanent pout. This girl looked friendly, and normal, and quite frankly too attractive to be with my roommate, who somewhat resembled a pitbull. Not that it was my place to notice such a thing, because I was in the Depression stage of grief. And because I looked like I’d been run over by a cement truck.

“I’m Cole,” I said. I considered outstretching my hand, but decided it would be beneficial to the girl’s health if we skipped the handshake.

“Cole Richmond. I know,” she said, looking down and smiling all cute-like. “Do you… have any idea who I am?”

Um, I thought. I turned my eyes to Anthony, who just looked exasperated, and looked back to the girl. “Um,” I said.

“It’s okay,” she admitted, but I could tell she was embarrassed. “I didn’t really expect you to know. I’m Alicia MacDougall. I was a year above you in high school? You, uh, used to hang out with my brother, I think.”

“Oh yeah!” I said. I very, very vaguely recalled Brett MacDougall having a sister living at his house my junior year. But we stayed downstairs, and she was some kind of theater geek, or an artist or something. Not really my crowd, so I never paid close attention. “How are you doing?”

Alicia MacDougall brightened. “I’m. Well. I’m doing better than I imagine you are, huh?” I glanced at the grease stain on my shirt, and at my lack of pants. “Everyone’s talking about what happened with your girlfriend and that drag queen.”

What do you say to that? Since I said nothing, Alicia sort of tilted her head in concern and continued. “I’m going to totally humiliate myself by saying this, but I’m a tiny bit drunk, so I’ll got for it.” She giggled. “I always thought you were so cool. Just, like, really together. So judging by… this… you must be feeling pretty low. After the whole Reality TV Incident and stuff.”

I shrugged and said, “Low? Nah. What makes you say that? Is it the Pringles cans or the pit stains?”

Alicia giggled again, cutely, and she looked me up and down with an almost maternal expression of pity. “No, you just always seemed so interesting and, like, exciting. I’m not trying to rub it in or anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound as genuine as I felt. “That means a lot.”

Alicia MacDougall shrugged. “No problem,” she said. “So…I only ask because I’m legitimately curious. Are you okay? I have no idea how you must feel.” "

So... yep. Again, not the greatest or most coherent thing to ever come out of my brain, but I don't think it's bad. The main character, Cole, is actually from a partially-finished novel I have lying around somewhere, and I liked him enough that I wanted him to get a little bit of attention, as it's very likely that his whole story will never be told. I'm open to suggestions if you'd like to leave a comment. If you don't have anything to say, but still read it, thank you! And if you didn't read it, that's still cool, too. You all deserve virtual hugs just for keeping up with the blog of a stranger. :)

Today, I saw: tons of awesome video comments. Love you guys!
Today, I heard: from my good friend, PJ, who I'll be seeing lots of once I move back to school.
Today, I touched: my suitcase zipper, getting ready to head off to Chez Situation.
Today, I smelled: an emery board. I filed my nails down shorter, so as not to accidentally spike my boyfriend in the jugular.
Today, I tasted: chocolate from Germany, thanks to an awesome girl named Amina who follows me on twitter!

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,953
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

P.S. I'm going to the YouTube gathering in Albany, New York tomorrow. Let me know in the comments if I'll be seeing you there. I hope we'll get to exchange real hugs. And have dance parties. Mid-Embrace Dance Party Gift Exchange: it's happening.

P.P.S. As I have stated before, I am extremely LGBT-friendly. My characters' opinions or word-choices do not always reflect my own. I do not condone the use of several slang terms in this story; it is fictional.

5AG Summer Vacation

2010-08-16T16:34:00.003-04:00

Hey, good-lookin'. You come here often? What's your sign? What's a nice girl-or-guy like you doing in a blog like this? How long can I keep this going? Why do you people like me?

I'm in quite the chipper mood right now. I've spent the evening discussing new secret writing projects with some of my Awesome Author Friends, and making plans with the fiveawesomegirls about the future of our channel. We've decided that we're going to take a short hiatus from daily videos for the next month-- from today until September 13th-- in order to get our chaotic lives together, and to plot for the next couple of months. Most television shows take a break during the summer, so we're doing the same. Call it 5AG Summer Vacation. It's only a month, and we'll be back with more energy and more ideas. Basically, we feel guilty putting out rushed, tired vlogs, when our audience is amazing and deserves more than that. If you're bored, I have a new favorite collab channel, Honestovlog, that might entertain you in our absence. Fiveawesomgirls fans, we'll see you soon.

In other news, I'm going to The Situation's house tomorrow, and am going to spend the week hanging out with him and visiting various places. Blogging may be a little more of a stretch in this third week of August, but I promise I'll make it work. If you guys are sweet enough to enjoy a post written on MS Paint (in which I misspell "aquarium," of all things), then I know I can count on you to be supportive, even when wifi is hard to come by. Going along with the theme of this video I posted today, I want to thank you for being utterly fantastic and, as I've said before, my (secret!) favorite internet community. In my heart, blog readers reign supreme. Move over, Chipotle.*

Speaking of The Situation, I just remembered that I have to bake cookies before I see him tomorrow. On that note, I'll leave you with my senses. See you tomorrow, lovelies!

Today, I saw: that my shorter hair cut does not take well to curls. I look a little bit clownish. The Situation says it's pretty, but he's paid to say stuff like that.
Today, I smelled: onions and carrots and tomatoes, oh my.
Today, I touched: my laptop's keyboard. A LOT. Writing up a storm over here.
Today, I heard: all kinds of propaganda from Cosmopolitan that I swear was published with the sole purpose of making real women feel inadequate.
Today, I tasted: my mother's homemade tomato soup. It was good. Not as good as MY homemade tomato soup (sorry, Mom), but still good.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,891
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

*Well. Not quite. But you and Chipotle are very, very close.

Pictures!

2010-08-15T23:29:00.011-04:00

P.S. I can totally not spell aquarium and I DO NOT APOLOGIZE. Mistake = made.

Real Life

2010-08-14T21:54:00.005-04:00

In just over a month, I will be twenty years old. Up until this point, I always identified more with kids a couple of years older than I was, since I grew up with older siblings. When I was twelve, I felt fourteen, and when I was sixteen, I felt eighteen, and now that I'm (almost) twenty, I just feel... completely terrified. Unworthy and unready for this title of Twenty. I was driving around with my best friend several months ago, musing about life, when Jess asked, "When did everything get so real?" And that's exactly what it's like. Our teenage years are so superficial-- the basis for so many larger-than-life movies full of Cliques and Drama-- that I spent the entire decade feeling like I was just "playing life." But I'm about to be twenty. As in "She's in her twenties." As in real life.

I don't know. It's like, for my whole life up until this point, I'd dream about getting some unusual and interesting engagement ring, and having a wedding with a chocolate fountain, and living in some city apartment with mismatched garage sale silverware, and being the cute pregnant lady at the grocery store, and giving my army of perfect children all sorts of ridiculous literary names, and wearing high heels to the job where everyone obviously adores me, and then sort of, like, dying with a million grandchildren around. That's how it goes, right? Hmm?

But God. Lately, I feel like I've just been shaken awake too early from an afternoon nap. Apparently, marriage is so hard that barely half of those who attempt it succeed. And apparently it's really, really unlikely that you'll make a living off being occasionally clever. And apparently you're going to screw up your kids no matter how hard you try, and they'll never be exactly what you want them to, and apparently a whole lot of people lie and steal and have affairs and apparently your body doesn't stay hot forever. So maybe you get a chocolate fountain at your wedding, but you also get fifty years of stretch marks and bankruptcy and sadness.

Is that really how it is? You work through high school to get to college, you work through college to get a job, and then. What? Is Real Life exactly like being a teenager, but trading uncertainty for disappointment? I don't want to dread the majority of my time on earth. Maybe I just don't get it. But for now, I'm really scared.

Wow. That was uplifting. Older readers, I'd appreciate your input on this one, if you don't mind. Am I looking at it wrong? Am I not mature enough to get it yet? Is it okay?

Today, I saw: my good friends, Tom and Maria, who directed my high school musicals. Tom's in this really cute Beatles tribute band (he's George), and they were performing downtown tonight for an audience of mostly families and older, drunker people embarrassing themselves. I sat in a crowd of retirees and their blue-haired babes, twisting and shouting as much as their oxygen tanks would allow.
Today, I heard: cute men in wigs pretending to be British.
Today, I touched: my mom's back, as if to say, "Okay, Mother. You can stop dancing in public now."
Today, I smelled: that ambient festival aroma of garbage and beer cans.
Today, I tasted: these beautiful fruit kebabs that my sisters made for a family picnic.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,788
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

Eat Pray Love: Whine, Jumpcut!, Elephant

2010-08-13T21:57:00.006-04:00

Well, I can now confirm it: Contrary to popular belief, I am not a hippie.

My family-- while very understanding and supportive of my internet life/artistic ventures/unconventional career path-- tends to joke about my "free-form chaos." My siblings refer to my guest room, which is often filled with traveling youtubers, as The Gypsy Hostel. I sometimes overhear my mom on the phone catching up with an old friend, saying, "It's called Five Awesome Girls, and they make these videos...." And I'm pretty much expected to always be dressed up as a mummy, or saving whales, or painting my face with glue. My one sister is the go-getter, my brother is the funny one, my other sister is the caretaker, and I'm this guy.

However, if Eat Pray Love is any example of how hippies are supposed to behave, then give me a freaking business suit and call me a fundamentalist, because that movie just left a seriously bad taste in my mouth.

I wouldn't ordinarily write a review like this on the opening day of a movie, for fear of spoiling the surprises and spurring on preconceived notions. But the thing is... there's really nothing to spoil. Astoundingly, the movie hardly managed to do or say anything in two and a half hours. By the time it was over, I couldn't remember anything about the world established in the first half. I was still totally and completely aware of the fact that I was watching Julia Roberts pretend to be a normal person. I paid nine dollars to see, in order: a whole lot of exposition with little purpose, James Franco looking kind of hot (purposelessly), some spaghetti, a bunch of people I didn't have enough of a chance to care about, an honest-to-God SHOPPING MONTAGE, more disorienting jump cuts than a wheezywaiter video, the lifeless drone of a main character pretending to have a soul but failing, some more characters whose names I can't remember and whose stories went by too quickly for me to be interested in, about twenty seconds of an elephant*, a terribly cheesy and terribly-executed flashback/dream sequence, and perhaps the worst and most unrealistic "romance" I've ever witnessed, which is saying something, because I saw The Last Song. I don't mean to give it all away, but the couple literally rides off into the sunset. I could have vomited.

Oh, and the message was the worst part of all. This movie preaches as much self-centeredness as an episode of Laguna Beach, multiplied by, like, Jordan Baker. The only thought we're left with? "Life is all about me. I should do whatever I want at all times, regardless of how it affects other people. Money is no object! The emotions of others are even less of an object! Maybe I'll get a divorce! Maybe I'll be with this guy! Maybe I won't! Maybe I'll be this religion! I'll do what feels good at this very second, and then move on to the next thing that momentarily satisfies me! Let's eat and gain sooo much weight that we're... we're still Julia Roberts." Give me a break.

Aaaand exhale. I'm sorry for that explosion, and I'm more than open to hearing your reviews, whether or not you agree with me. Maybe I'm overreacting, and maybe I just missed the point, but Eat Pray Love made me feel less like a vivacious foodie feminist and more like a moody semi-conservative in a theater full of menopausal women... and I was having hot flashes for a different reason. Sigh.

Today, I saw: a bad movie.
Today, I heard: a lot of people express surprise over the difference in my hair color. Still not used to it.
Today, I smelled: about forty different kinds of wine. I went with my mom and sisters to this cute little vineyard for dinner.
Today, I touched: a watermelon the size of my torso.
Today, I tasted: some kind of... fried pizza dough, dipped in... maybe marshmallow fluff? Whatever; I'm not too concerned. Probably not the best idea, but screw it, I'm a size four now.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,741
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

*I'm serious. With no previous warning, and with no follow-up whatsoever, there was an elephant. Doing nothing to advance any sort of plot. Just chilling, being an elephant, for the sake of being an elephant. It was as if they'd finished the film, and the director was like, "Oh my gosh. You guys. We're in India. LET'S GET AN ELEPHANT. Put that in there! I don't care where! Just insert an elephant clip! White folks go craaazy for that shit!"

P.S. High-fives and make-outs for those of you who caught my Elizabethtown quote in yesterday's post. Obscure!

My Love Life

2010-08-12T21:50:00.003-04:00

Hello, lovelies! Today was a good day. I did something SHOCKING! and decided to dye my hair back to its natural color, I got to hear a demo of a new Mike Lombardo song (so good), and I decided to alienate all my straight male readers by writing an entire paragraph about my boyfriend and my hair. I also posted a fiveawesomegirls video with terrible lighting, in which I make an inappropriate innuendo directed towards my engaged, female friend, and continue talking about my hair. And I took a shower. Really, I can see why you guys are so invested in my life; this crap's enthralling.

Anyway, I think it's about time to discuss a topic I've been asked about a lot lately, just to get it all out in the open and shoot down any possible rumors. I've been receiving quite a large number of questions concerning my love life. I'm going to officially address them now, once and for all, with the utmost maturity. Via a Myspace questionnaire from "pimpsurveys.com," entitled "Questions About You And Your Lover."

1. When did you guys start dating?
We met during my sophomore year of high school. I was sixteen. He was thirteen, but he'd just moved into my town.
2. How long have you been dating for?
You... really can't do that math? Four years.
3. How did you meet?
I'd heard a lot about him-- he was gaining popularity among the older kids at school-- but we first came into contact with each other during rehearsals for a musical I was in. Someone brought him over to me because I was stressed. He made me feel better.
4. Do you love him/her?
More than anything.
5. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with them?
I mean... I'd like to occasionally have a little something on the side, but I'd always choose him first.
6. Does he make you laugh and happy?
He makes me very happy. He doesn't exactly make me laugh, though.
7. Have you kissed?
The majority of the time that we're together, my lips are on him.
8. Do you like him for looks or personality?
Oh, both. He's gorgeous, but it's what's inside that counts.
9. Would he/she die for you?
He dies for me about once a week.
10. Would you die for him/her?
If our love continues at its current rate, he will probably be my cause of death. Yes.

So there you have it: my relationship with Chipotle, summed up into ten beautiful, grammatically-sound questions. I hope you're satisfied-- I just allowed you into a very personal part of my life. Me and Chipotle are special. We are intrepid. We carry on.

...I'm sorry for that. On to the sensing.

Today, I saw: myself in the mirror and gasped a little bit. It's going to take some time to get used to.
Today, I heard: aaaall about some lady's adventures in potty training her two-year-old. Hair salon conversations are extremely boring. It's like you're sitting in on a meeting for a club you don't belong to and have no desire to join.
Today, I smelled: fancy hair products I would never buy.
Today, I touched: two of my awesome friends from high school, Alyssa and Emiko. I went for a walk with my mom and brother at the park where my old cross-country team trains, and they ran over to me, covered in sweat. It was adorable.
Today, I tasted: arugula salad with roasted pine nuts.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,694
Nail color: "Through the Grapevine," Wet 'n' Wild

A Note from The Situation

2010-08-11T22:56:00.002-04:00

Hayley's off tonight.

So, while she laughs at this very clever Nalts video, I will fill you in.

Well she's off duty as a blogger. She's sitting on Skype on my other monitor, with beads and bows wrapped around her head, picking apart some beaded jewelry with a nail file and a piece of yarn.

She's not off because she doesn't care about you. It's quite the opposite. She's off because she does. She doesn't want to just write a post of nothing and have you be disappointed. She really does put a lot of time into what to write about. Sometimes it causes undue amounts of stress, especially on occasions like last night, when last-minute formatting issues sparked a minor emotional avalanche. All is now well, however.

I know this because, for the most part, the only time we have to spend together (and by 'spend' I mean 'skype') is at night, right before she goes to bed, which is also when she's writing her blog. And alot of our personal time together is spent by her talking/brainstorming/whining/writing her post for the night. I'm not complaining, I'm merely illustrating how high of a priority y'all are to her.

This whole being-far-apart thing will most likely become more difficult, seeing as she's about to go back to school, which is an additional 4 hours further from me than she is now, and I'm counting down the final days before leaving my last full-time job in an effort to spend more time touring, promoting the album, and trying to not start to death that way. Romantic artistic lifestyle? Maybe. But the most conducive method of ensuring we have time and money to hang out? Probably not. If we make enough from our respective 'careers' I'm going to attempt to take her with me on my trek to LA this January for my now-apparently-annual performance with Molly Lewis. Hayley says "The west coast is a big deal." Which is exactly why I don't want to go by myself again. What is the point of this? Doing what you love isn't so straightforward. By sticking with my regular full-time job, which I most certainly do NOT love, I have money to do things and go places with people I DO love. By quitting and doing what I 'love,' I make (far) less money but I'm doing that romanticized "living the american dream" we hear so much about. Quite a poser, indeed.

My collateral for writing this post? "If you want, I could pop out a couple of songs. A couple of jams. Slow jams. And...ballads."

Right now she's waving around a tube of toothpaste and poking at her webcam lens with a facial blush makeup brush.

"Are you just telling my blog that I'm crazy and weird?"

No.

A short story?!

2010-08-10T22:12:00.008-04:00

After I post something deeply personal on this blog-- like my entry about depression, or yesterday's about weight loss-- it almost takes me a while to recover. I've spent full hours today reading comments and emails, and I can't force myself to stop thinking about your stories. Your responses have made me laugh out loud, and think about my own life, and some of them have nearly brought me to tears. What's even more amazing is that every time I get to the end of the comments and refresh the page, ten more have appeared. It means the world to me that so many of you are daring enough to open up to a stranger, and that you trust me and this community with such personal testimonies. You are a beautiful group, and that's not something I say lightly, because the word "beautiful" is often annoyingly misused. But this is not a misuse. In fact, I'm pretty sure the entire internet's beauty quotient is currently being occupied in my blog comments. Don't even bother navigating away from this page; everything else you find will be ugly in comparison. You're all so beautiful, you make Tina Fey look like Carrot Top.

Anyway, I'm not quite ready to jump back into normal blogging tonight-- I think I need another day or so to mediate on the last one, and to continue reading your comments as they come in. I am, however, going to do something totally out of character. I'm going to take a faithful leap into my friend Kristina Horner's footsteps, and since she dared to post a short story yesterday, I'm going to dare to do the same. Keep in mind that I never do this, and that I'll probably keep my eyes partially closed in self-defense as I read your comments, but I guess it's about time.

I just opened my laptop's Short Stories folder, weeded out the ones with adult content (I mean like mild swearing and topics less relevant to this audience, you pervs; you would not want to see me attempt to write porn*), and then I pretty much looked away and pointed at a random file. This is a little vignette I once wrote for a class. We were prompted to tell a story with emphasis on a specific amount of time, and it had to be under a thousand words. But we weren't instructed to be melodramatic and predictable and utterly unremarkable. I just took that upon myself. So. Uhh. Here you go. You're allowed to laugh at me if you want... just don't tell me about it, okay?

" The toilet flushed, and so did my face. It sounded different. Even girls' toilets are different.

I didn't want to be staring hopelessly at the stall door when Claire came out, so I busied eyes to the best of my ability. I glanced at my reflection in the large mirror, splattered with the soap scum of strangers. I looked as out of place as I felt-- a six-foot hairy beast, standing next to a tampon dispenser and digging his fingernails into his palms. It occurred to me that I should say something. I opened my mouth, but my tongue was too dry and my heart was beating too hard.

The latch clicked, and Claire walked slowly out, her bottom lip bitten and her eyes closed. We stood in silence for some time, before she cleared her throat gently. "Are you going to say anything?"

Weird. Her tone was so unlike her-- flat, expressionless, almost intimidating-- but she looked like a sallow little version of the very same Claire. I don't know what I had been expecting. It had only been two months.

"I'm trying," I admitted.

"Yeah, well," she breathed, and I think I heard something like a gasp in the back of her throat. "I didn't wait for you to drive here so I could do this alone."

With a squeak of the heavy wooden door, a middle-aged woman entered the room. Seeing me in my big gray hoodie, the woman's eyes bulged. Claire turned her head sharply and stared at the sink counter, embarrassed.

"Uh... excuse us," I managed to say in a somewhat normal voice, sending a startling baritone echo off the tile floor and walls. The scandalized woman parted her lips and turned quickly to leave, muttering something containing the words "public rest stop" and "indecency." I watched the woman exit and felt another pang of anxiousness when I spotted the blue cardboard box in the trashcan by the door. The same box I'd concealed inside my sweatshirt on my way out of CVS, and the same box whose contents were now being held between Claire's forefinger and thumb, calculating the answer to the question I'd been meditating on ever since she called and asked me to drive over, immediately.

Claire stayed frozen with her eyes cast downward. She was wearing a little white dress, and there were goosebumps up her exposed arms. It was June. I unzipped my sweatshirt-- mostly to buy time before I had to think of something else to say-- and I placed it over her shoulders. She looked for a second like she wanted to slink her arms into its sleeves, but she kept both hands steady on the little blue stick she held.

How have you been? I imagined her asking. Then I could reply, and say something like, I've thought about you. I still care about you enough to be here. I'm here, aren't I? I had to give my mom an excuse, and I had to pay for gas, and I'm here. In a girls' bathroom on the side of the highway, so you didn't have to do this at home, and you didn't have to do this alone. I'm here.

But she didn't say anything, or further acknowledge the sweatshirt, or give me any meaningful glances to let me know that she didn't blame me. She just stood there. Blaming me.

Finally, she said, "You stopped calling me."

"I didn't think you wanted me to. I saw pictures of you with that guy--"

Claire pushed a puff of air out through her nose. "On Facebook?"

"Uh." My shoes looked muddy. Had it been raining outside? Had I walked into the highway rest stop in such a nervous stupor that I hadn't noticed rain? "Yeah, I guess I saw them on Facebook."

Claire opened her eyes a little wider, as if to suggest that she would have found this funny, if she were currently capable of feeling anything but fear and disdain. She might have said, I guess we came full circle, then. I might have nodded and mused that, several months ago, when I saw a pretty girl on a mutual friend's profile, I never would have guessed that I'd spend spring break driving an hour back and forth between Pittsburgh and New Castle every available day, just to feel her against me, or that those short weeks when we were a We would bring us... here.

Because Claire said nothing, I dared to ask the question I'd been harping on all morning, alone in my mom's SUV. "Did... did you want me to keep calling you?"

But just as the words left my mouth, the phone timer in her dress pocket dinged. We looked at the little blue stick in her hands, and then at each other. For as out of sync as we had been in the past two months, Claire and I quietly gasped in unison, as she turned the little blue stick over in her shaking hand. "

So... that's, like, a story. It's no masterpiece, but I don't think it's terrible. Whether you like it or not, I hope you appreciate that I just took a serious risk in showing you. Lucky bitches. On to the sensing!

Today, I saw: about six episodes from the third season of 30 Rock. Ugh, I want to be Liz Lemon.
Today, I heard: "Freebird" playing over the grocery store loudspeaker, which was enough for me to momentarily forget that I don't play guitar. There may have been some rocking out in the shampoo aisle.
Today, I smelled: my own sweat in mass quantities, when I took a psychotically long and grueling cross-country run. Seventy minutes! It felt good. And also awful. Runners know what I mean.
Today, I touched: a fresh blister on my foot. Ooooww.
Today, I tasted: two servings of my favorite dark chocolate, because when you run, you're allowed to consume twice as many calories, right?

Once again, I'm looking forward to reading your comments on today's post, as well as any more on yesterday's. I hope you all have a lovely Wednesday, and I'll see you tomorrow night!

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,595
Nail color: Gasp! Blank. I'm in the process.

*Alright, if you INSIST. It was a dark and stormy night. Two people were in a house, and then they got it on and stuff. It was exciting and undignified and kind of gross, and everyone was really into it. Now pay me lots of money for that thrill I just provided you.

Losing Weight

2010-08-09T17:24:00.004-04:00

The time has come to address the elephant in the room... which is the fact that my roomly presence is now significantly less elephant-like. I've avoided the topic for the last couple of months with the same superstitions in mind that keep me from discussing videos before they've been made-- I didn't want to jinx anything while the project was still a work-in-progress. But as I stood on a scale this morning, it became even more apparent that the progression is over. In the last three months (almost to the day), I've lost twenty-five freakin' pounds.

The thing is, I've never been fat. At my least healthy, I was still within what the internet considers an average range. However, for three years or so, I was hauling around extra pounds. There's a difference between having a "bigger body type" and just carrying more weight than you should. I didn't look big or abundantly chubby or anything, but I was supposed to be a small girl, and my extra twenty pounds was quite obviously extra. Whether it was technically grave or not, I had a problem, and I needed to change it.

My unparalleled love of food has been part of my personality since birth, and it certainly doesn't seem to be going anywhere, so I really don't think eating is entirely to blame. The obvious enemy in this case was an emotional thing. I don't talk about it much, but I had some pretty big personal issues with depression for a couple of years. I consider the start of that to be eighth grade, I think, and the end to be around spring of my senior year. As much as I'm still... almost embarrassed to address it at all, I really spent a long time being miserable. This didn't manifest itself in my physical appearance at first, because I didn't finish developing fully until I was about fifteen, at which point I was running cross-country and struggling to eat enough to supplement the calories lost with my daily four+ miles. I quit the team in my sophomore year, though, after the physical demands got too much for me. This sudden deficit of exercise-- combined with my poor self-esteem and my intrinsic desire to self-medicate with bread-- eventually caught up with me. From sixteen to eighteen, I slowly and steadily put on about a pound a month.

The funny thing about depression is that it squanders your ability to care about your appearance, it slows you down, and it causes you to lose your will to move. In my case, it created one terrible cycle. I felt out of place and sad at school, so I moved sluggishly through the day, then dreaded the next day all night. I was wretchedly unhappy, so I ate and I sat. Then I was depressed about life because all I did was eat and sit, so I continued to eat and sit because it was the only way I knew how to feel empowered. Then, when eating and sitting resulted in a puffy face and a lethargic physical condition, I ate and sat even more, because moving became harder, and what was the point? People say it jokingly, but in reality, I truly looked unattractive because I ate, and I ate because I looked unattractive.

Well, the emotional struggles are another story for another time, but they eventually shrunk to the point of near invisibility. My waistline, however, continued to bulge, even when my fire for life started to flicker again. Old habits die hard, and for most of my freshman year at college, I was a happy person who still ate like a depressed one. I probably could have continued like that forever, too, had I not decided to do something about it. My new friends at school had never seen me at my ideal weight, so they didn't really realize I was out of shape, and my friends and family at home probably didn't want to rub in my face something I obviously wasn't oblivious to. Plus, I've always had a hard time accomplishing tasks that are expected of me. The only way I get something done is if I decide for myself. And one random afternoon in May, I decided that it was time to stop playing the part of a sad person, and it was time I let my newly-regained happiness show in the physical sense.

To shoot down inevitable speculation, no, this decision had very little to do with my romantic relationship. I had found happiness on my own before I found him, and he never indicated that he wanted me to improve my appearance in the slightest; this was all me. In confidence, I did tell The Situation that I was thinking about losing twenty pounds, and he said something along the lines of, "I think you're beautiful already, and you don't need to change a single thing. But I think getting healthier would boost your self-confidence, and you'd also look really hot, so I think it's a good idea if it's what you want." So, with this reassurance that I only had positive things to gain from the experience of losing, I made the commitment to myself.

With great success, and because I wanted to be Lance Armstrong (no, not really), I used the incredibly helpful (and free!) livestrong.com to chart calories. It has all kinds of easy tools available: once you record your height, weight, activity level, and the amount of weight you'd like to lose, it tells you how many calories you should aim to consume every day, and then helps you record all the food you eat and all the exercise you do. It also shows a pie chart of fat/protein/carbs so you can aim for healthy daily percentages, and monitors things like your sodium and cholesterol intake, to help prevent you from doing stupid stuff like eating nothing but a pint of ice cream in a day and being satisfied with the 1,200 calories. You can also track how much water you drink, and it shows a bar graph of your net calories each week, so if you make a mistake one night, you can account for it the next. The website really helped with my fear of numbers, because it takes care of all that for you. It just became part of my daily internet activity, and it felt more like a game than a diet.

Most importantly, I never allowed myself to go hungry, and I never did any of that crazy drink-chili-powder-and-eat-only-celery crap. If I wanted a brownie with dinner, I ran an extra mile at night to stay below the boundary line on my graph, and I ate the frigging brownie. I started making smarter choices, like eating veggie burgers on a bed of lettuce instead of on white buns, because it fit within my little game. And eventually, it became natural. Now I know not to deny myself the unhealthy foods I love (sour cream, chocolate chip cookies, whatever the hell kind of plastic is in pizza rolls), but to say no to the trash I don't even enjoy (most kinds of french fries, potato chips, candy). I no longer have to work at it-- health has become my habit, and maintaining my size four body is now just as easy as it used to be maintaining my size ten.

So. There you have it. I'm not writing this to brag, or for attention or whatever. I'm incredibly blessed to have never had to worry about obesity or diabetes or even just a genetic apple-shape, and I don't mean to undermine those who have had real problems by talking about my silly quick fix. I just know that a lot of people my age (particularly in America) happen to have struggles with weight at one time or another, whether they're big ordeals or lesser issues, and I thought I'd share my success story, in the event that it helps somebody out there. If you're looking for a solution to the kind of problem that doesn't require a doctor's attention, like mine, I really recommend livestrong.com. It was like completing a guided independent study in health, rather than following a strict plan or being fed advice. The whole experience was free and relatively painless, and it worked for me, so it might work for you.

ANYWAY. That took much longer to type than I'd expected, and it somehow appears to be eleven o'clock. On with the sensing!

Today, I saw: that we had everything bagels, causing me to exclaim excited vulgarities, because I may be skinny now, but I am still a fatass.
Today, I heard: "Hayles? I'm having a computer problem. Can you help me?" To which I responded, "Sure, Mom. What's wrong?" My mom then tilted her head quizzically and said, "I wrote a Word document. How do you change a font?"
Today, I smelled: tall, summery grass at the park.
Today, I touched: frozen blueberries that felt like cold, textured marbles.
Today, I tasted: delicious flaxseed crackers topped with slices of gruyere cheese.

I really appreciated yesterday's comments-- especially the ones from you lovely (psycho) readers who tried valiantly to convince me that I'm set to someday be on par with my hero's writing abilities. You're all crazy, but it does mean a lot to me. I would love to hear your personal experiences with weight struggles, or anything else you have to contribute to today's discussion, if it's not too personal for you to disclose. Also, as always this month, I'm interested to hear what noteworthy things you sensed over the course of your day, if you want. If you choose to leave a comment, I look forward to reading it, and if you don't, that's cool, too! I hope you all have a pleasant Tuesday, and I'll see you tomorrow night.

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,532
Nail color: "Rogue Vogue," Maybelline (discontinued)

Hate vs. Negative Feedback

2010-08-08T21:46:00.003-04:00

The only downside to having a whole cast of extremely smart and interesting friends-- most of whom post their intellectual musings on the internet for a living-- is that sometimes it's like, why bother? I'm currently talking to John Green on Skype about the future (and present) of the book business, and about his future, and about mine. And not that you need more convincing, but good God. That man is so fascinating and thoughtful and cool that I feel a little silly even trying. I understand that he's a good thirteen years older than I am, and that his writing and speaking abilities have grown significantly since he was my age, but still. Do you think I'll ever be on his level? Don't answer that. If you say yes, I'll think you're lying, and if you say no, it'll hurt my feelings.

Oh! Speaking of hurt feelings, I wanted to touch on something different. My dear friend and bitter enemy*, Kristina, blogged today about the act of receiving negative feedback. She talks about the difference between Hate and Negative Comments. Hate is "u r fag"; Negative Comments are "You know, I usually respect you a lot, but I think this is terrible." Kristina mentions that Hate used to bother her in the early days of youtube, because it naturally sucks to hear that your eyebrows are hideous or that you've gained weight, but that mean comments from people who are actually invested in who you are and what you have to say are the ones that are really, really hurtful.

Somehow, I've been blessed with some of the world's sweetest and most understanding readers and viewers-- it's a very rare occasion that I'll go online and have my feelings hurt. I mean, I still receive comments and messages that are painful to read from time to time, but it's not nearly as often as some people have to endure.

One thing that puts me at a particular risk, however, is the fact that me and Kristina aren't peddling characters. Sure, we act a certain way on camera, and sometimes we present more polished, more silly, or more politically correct versions of ourselves. But more or less, what you see from us is a representation of who we really are. And, I'm not going to speak for my friend, but as far as my blog is concerned, this is pure, unadulterated me. There's not a whole lot that I censor from you guys. Therefore, on the super-mega-ultra-rare occasions that a blog comment is less than supportive-- or even just expressing some disapproval at something I've said or done-- it burns a hell of a lot more than "u r a fag."

I'm not writing this tonight for any particular reason-- I can count on one hand the blog comments I've acquired in over a year that have stung enough to be remembered, and none of them have happened recently-- but I thought Kristina's blog post was interesting, and I felt compelled to... do a less-satisfying job of raising all the same points on a narrow topic... to a mostly identical audience. I don't know.

Anyway, what about you guys? Do you encounter issues like this in your internet endeavors? Or what about in real life? Ever get a bad grade on a paper in your best subject, and feel totally defeated, whereas a similar grade on something else wouldn't have mattered? I'm looking forward to reading your responses. (Except for the fact that, like my first paragraph about John Green, you often put me to shame by being more eloquent, funny, and creative in your comments than I am in my actual blog. Bitches.) On that note, on to the sensing!

Today, I saw: this bag. I got it for school. It's even cuter in person!
Today, I heard: this song, on repeat, as part of my [no longer] secret iTunes playlist entitled "Slutty Music," which I listen to from time to time in order to live vicariously through fictional characters, since my life is much purer and much more boring.
Today, I touched: the somewhat feministic history book I mentioned in yesterday's post, which is actually really enjoyable so far. Because of this, I spent a chunk of my afternoon researching Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, and falling desperately in love with her.
Today, I smelled: cheesecake, made by my friend Lor. It was beautiful, but I'd just eaten Chipotle, and therefore REFUSED a piece. Did you hear that? I refused CHEESECAKE. Who am I!?
Today, I tasted: spicy vegetarian sushi from Whole Foods. Mmmm.

I apologize, once again, for the lack of paragraph-to-paragraph continuity in this post. You're serious troopers for sticking with me sometimes, guys. Feel free to comment with your Daily Senses, or with input on the Hate vs. Negativity discussion, or neither or both. I'm looking forward to hearing what some of you have to say, and I hope you all have a lovely Monday. See you tomorrow night!

Chipotle burritos this year: 23
Subscribers: 32,478
Nail color: "Rogue Vogue," Maybelline (discontinued)

*No, not really.

My dad is smart, blueberries, what.

2010-08-07T22:07:00.002-04:00

My dad is the smartest man alive. I swear to you, if I had the power to put the entire world on hold for half an hour-- forcing every person in every location to completely stop-- and just make them listen to my dad talk about religion for thirty minutes... by the end of it we'd all shrug, say, "Okay. I can get behind that," and there would be no more problems. He is that level of well-spoken, that level of intelligent, and to that degree my hero. Walking with him down the road, battling out the uncertainties of life, hearing each other out and coming to the conclusion that it's unnecessary to always draw conclusions. One of my most cherished pastimes. I don't have my father's innate ability to put complicated thoughts into uncomplicated sentences on a moment's notice, so I won't attempt to relay to you our conversation from this evening, but I just need to say it: I am so grateful to have the brilliant, thoughtful, fascinating parents I've been blessed with, and I'll be satisfied with life if I ever grow up to have their same wisdom and grace and goodness.

I'll stop preaching now, but I just have to let it out sometimes. I adore my parents.

So. In less dramatic news, following that grand proclamation... like, what's up? I had a really good day today. I woke up super early to hang out with Jess before she went to work (we shared a scone), I got recognized from fiveawesomegirls at the library (still freaks me out!), I started reading A History of the Wife by Marilyn Yalom (because I guess I need to start hating men in preparation for my twenties, right?) and then I went blueberry picking with my mom and grandma. We came home with three giant tubs, all full to the brim with fresh berries. My hands turned purple. It was nice. Afterwards, I went with my parents to my sister's house, because she thought there was going to be some kind of festival down the street from her with free food. Turns out, the festival is NEXT week, so we ended up walking to a restaurant instead, talking about religion and politics and life all the way. It was sort of beautiful. And sort of responsible for the disjointed chaos that is this blog post.

In other news, I'm simultaneously trying to not sound like a psycho in my blog, text The Situation, and watch vloggerqueen17 be hilarious and adorable on BlogTV. And, as we discussed the other day, I am terrible at multitasking. Therefore:

Today, I saw: that you can buy jars of pickles the size of a bookshelf at Sam's Club. Why!?
Today, I heard: the aforementioned hilarious and adorable youtuber read some of her writing. So good. You should go subscribe to her. I feel like she's my sister or something (even though I don't know her and am creepy) because she's exactly like me, five years ago.
Today, I smelled: onion and chive cream cheese.
Today, I touched: melted chocolate in the bottom of my purse. Whoops.
Today, I tasted: baked rigatoni smothered in delicious, heart-attacky cheese.

Okay, it's bedtime. I hope you all have a lovely Sunday, and I'll see you tomorrow night!

Chipotle burritos this year: 22
Subscribers: 32,410
Nail color: "Rogue Vogue," Maybelline (discontinued)

P.S. Hi, Ben! I know you're reading this because I'm sort of talking to you on BlogTV. So hi. :)

Boring.

2010-08-06T21:46:00.002-04:00

Oh. Hey guys. Is it that part of the day again? The blogging part? Already? But I... I'm wearing pajamas, watching Love Actually, and trying not to fall asleep before 10:30. How am I supposed to be entertaining when my eyelids can't even stay up? You know what, do me a favor-- instead of being disappointed in me, just take a breather and go watch old communitychannel videos. If you've never seen them before, they'll make your day. And if you have them memorized like I do, they'll still make your day. So go! Have your day made! I shall sleep.

Today, I saw: Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked frozen yogurt! Like the ice cream! But low fat!
Today, I heard: that Rush Limbaugh supports the idea of another civil war. Today, I thought: that Rush Limbaugh is an obnoxious idiot.
Today, I smelled: new leather at a shoe store.
Today, I touched: Liam Neeson. In my brain.
Today, I tasted: some awesome Italian pasta dish that I had to ask The Situation how to pronounce.

I suck today, and I apologize. I hope you all have a lovely Saturday, and I'll see you tomorrow. :)

Chipotle burritos this year: 22
Subscribers: 32,353
Nail color: "Rogue Vogue," Maybelline (discontinued)

Multiple tasks!

2010-08-05T20:43:00.002-04:00

Nobody's ever considered me much of a multi-tasker-- I'm one of those people who's always attempting to read a book while walking down a crowded hallway, only to inevitably fall on her face or crash into someone's backpack. However, I'll have you know that I currently have a tray of cookies in the oven, another sheet loaded and ready to go, and my fiveawesomegirls video exporting. I'm also, like, writing a blog and being a badass. So that's pretty much five things at once.

Surprise! Your comments on yesterday's post made my day, just like always. The general consensus seems to be that none of you understand the appeal of cars (ditto) or makeup (same here), and that most of you who DO understand clothes still don't really bother put any effort into them. It's comforting to know that I'm in good company, then.* I think our collective Style is "Awesome Nerdy Internet Person." And I hear that's in vogue. Anyway, on to the sensing!

Today, I saw: this webcomic, which I found just infinitely funnier than it actually is.
Today, I heard: some drunk guy in the backseat of his friend's SUV get into a fight with a FedEx truck driver during stopped highway traffic. Next, a car full of seventeen-year-olds next to me rolled down their window and informed me that, "Ma'am, I like your ponytail. It is exquisite."
Today, I touched: balls of gooey, lumpy cookie dough.
Today, I smelled: fresh tomatoes from my dad's garden.
Today, I tasted: whole wheat flatbread. Yum!

Lastly, and totally leastly, I have to make a quick retraction... in yesterday's post, I made a joke about pulling weeds, and referred to "the exciting smoking kind," meant to funny, because I am obviously not the toking type. My mother, however, did not find it amusing, and insists that I inform you all that I do not smoke pot. So. I do not smoke pot. Kbye!

Chipotle burritos this year: 22
Subscribers: 32,300
Nail color: "Rogue Vogue," Maybelline (discontinued)

*Except for you psychos who said you don't enjoy eating. I still love you, of course, and I'm willing to look past this... but it was painful to read, guys. It really was.