sir, one more outburst and i will strangle you with my microphone wire

After careful consideration and a lot of complaining, I've decided to quit grad school. Why? Because taking online classes blow. I mean, I totally see why any normal person would love them: you can take notes, do assignments, and talk to your professor from the comfort of your bed. And, okay, some people taking face-to-face classes talk to their professors from the comfort of their own bed.

But none of that is for me. Especially the professor-in-my-bed part.

So I've decided to drop out of the library sciences program and pursue other endeavors. True that I have no idea what these other endeavors are just yet, but I'm going to pursue them, dammit. I do have some thoughts on what I'd like to do:

1 - Become a wedding planner.
I could do this job, and do it well. I'm terribly organized when it comes to work, and that's needed in this field. Plus, I work well with people, even crazy/bitchy/teary-eyed brides and their mothers who are even more crazy/bitchy/teary-eyed than their daughters. And I do my best thinking and working under extreme pressure. Why else do you think I waited until the night before to start a history paper?

Because you're really fucking lazy, Crystal, that's why.

Anyway, I could do this job, and do it well. Plus it would give me tons of experience for books, which leads me to number 2...

2 - Try to get a novel or fifty published and then turned into a movie.
I think I read somewhere that only 2% of novels get turned into movies. I don't know if this includes the made-for-TV movies they show on Lifetime or not. But, at this point in the game, i would totally settle for having Lifetime pick up the rights to my novel. I don't really know why they would want to, but who am I to stop them from paying me for it?

3 - Marry rich.
Hey, just because I admire Elizabeth Bennett marrying purely for love doesn't mean I have to have her same morals.

4a - Start playing the lottery.
This is Part One of a plan. And pretty self-explanatory. Let's continue.
4b - Win the lottery.
That Powerball jackpot gets up there sometimes. I just need to win it. I could totally survive on $80 million.

5 - Take my lottery winnings and pay for my books to be made into movies.
Ha!

If I do become a wedding planner, I'm making sure this guy gets hired for all the receptions:

Father of the Bride: Hey, buddy, I'm not paying you to share your thoughts on life. I'm paying you to sing.
Robbie: Well, I have a microphone, and you don't, SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO SAY!
- The Wedding Singer, starring Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore. If you turn on your television set, it's probably on right now.

technology impaired.

It's very depressing when you learn that your grandfather can use call-waiting on his cell phone when you still haven't figured out how to switch calls on your own phone.

hippie science experiment

"Shampoo is better. I go on first and clean the hair.
Conditioner is better. I leave the hair silky and smooth.
Oh, really, fool?
Really.
Stop looking at me, Swan!"
- Billy Madison

So, I'm not using shampoo and conditioner anymore.

Okay, before you say 'ewwwwwwww' and start making comments about my hygiene, just hear me out. And I'm not becoming a hippie and going green and vegan and all that. Not that there's anything wrong with any of that. I admire people who don't eat delicious, delicious meat. Their willpower is obviously stronger than mine. I could never give up BBQ pulled pork or chicken nuggets. Good for the people who realize that meat is finger-lickin' murder.

I had a point to this? Yes?

Oh, right. No 'poo. Seriously, that's what it's called: No 'Poo. Which is good. I mean, who wants poo in their hair? No one, unless you're seriously deranged. My hair is still getting washed, but with a baking soda and water mix, then conditioned with apple cider vinegar and water. And, no, my hair doesn't smell like vinegar. Thank God. It's still looking a bit (and by "a bit", I mean "a lot") on the oily side, but that's just my hair and scalp getting used to not being stripped of its natural self-cleaning oils.

I don't think I got the baking soda measurements right though. I need to do some more investigating. All I know is that our bathroom counter looked like a fourth-grade volcano science fair experiment gone crazy. Vinegar and baking soda, measuring cups and funnels... all that was missing was a paper-mache` volcano. And I probably could have fashioned one of those fairly easily.

I'll keep you posted on the no 'poo. And, if you see me around, don't remind me how bad I look with all my hair pulled away from my face. I'm very well aware that I look like scary.

i would make the worst 1950's housewife.

Biscuits: 1, Crystal: 0.
Potatoes: 1, Crystal: 0.
All food not of the frozen-dinner variety: 35251512, Crystal: 0.

I cannot cook to save my life. I think the gene for domesticity skips a generation every now and then. I mean, my grandmothers? Excellent cooks. My mom's cooking? Amazing. But me? If it weren't for Ramen noodles and Tom from "Happy Inn" bringing Chinese food right to my door and not charging me the full price, I would never eat.

Of course, if I cut back on my eating, I could buy smaller size jeans and actually fit into ALL the clothes at Forever 21 and not just the flowy ones. Hmm....

Anyway, I found a recipe for homemade potato chips. It was so simple: slice potatoes, throw 'em around a bit in some olive oil, pour on a little kosher salt (which is the best salt in the world), and toss 'em in the oven for twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes later, I get a cookie sheet of completely raw potatoes and potatoes so burnt that they look more like beef jerky than potatoes.

I cannot cook. And we won't even go into the Biscuit Fiasco of 2009, wherein a few pieces of kitchenware died fighting the good fight against Hell's Oven.

At least, with the exception of those damn biscuits, I can bake like a mofo. Seriously. Do you want a cake? Some Statue-of-Liberty torch cupcakes? I can make those, no problem. But, if you're a meat-and-potatoes kind of person, sorry about your luck; I can't help you there. Go see Paula Deen for that shit. I'll be in the kitchen microwaving a Lean Cuisine frozen pasta dinner.

Rachel: Hey, I cook!
Chandler: Offering people gum is not cooking.
- Friends, "The One Where Ross Got High"

If offering people gum isn't cooking, then I'm in BIG trouble.

tin pan south = amazing.

Isaac Hanson and I. Don't deny it, we would make an adorable couple. :)

stupid er.

I get that ER has been on TV for years and John Stamos is real hot and everything, but it's getting in the way of me watching The Office... which means that I have been reduced to watching Antique Roadshow.

But Crystal, don't you love Antique Roadshow?

Yes, I love Antique Roadshow. The problem with this though is that I feel like an old widow who is just one more cat away from being a crazy cat lady whenever I watch Antique Roadshow. So, thanks ER, for making one of my nightmares a little more closer to reality.

And I have to laugh at Antique Roadshow. There's this carved elephant tusk-replica propped on the table and the way the woman is standing behind the table makes it look like it's coming out of her pants. Tee-hee.

...

Well, I might be becoming a crazy cat lady, but at least I have the maturity level of a twelve-year-old boy.

dude looks like a lady.

I thought that today was going to be a good day.

Then I walked into Java City where this guy and girl were staring at me. As I passed them, I heard the girl say "she looks like a man."

And she didn't follow it up by saying "April Fool's!"

Bitch.