Glass Blowing Glory-holes and FIRE

So, this is a bit of a response to my sister’s post HERE on her jealousy inspiring adventure into glass blowing.

She was the one to mention glory holes, by the way, this wasn’t me being a brat and trying to prompt my older sister into asking if I know what a glory-hole is.

I do, by the way Lexy.

I hope that the fact that I’m 19 helps to negate the sibling-nose-scrunch of “my sister knows about something sexual in nature?”

Yes, I’ve moved past the playground “Are you a virgin?”-“What’s that?”-“Just answer the question” trolling, and even know where babies come from.

Storks, right?

But moving on from THAT, I suggest that you read her post (link above) first (though it isn’t entirely necessary) just so you know how things actually went rather than this bout of my imagining my own reaction to being allowed to play with molten glass and colours.

I think that there would be three parts to my reaction, and because the idea amuses me, I’m going to use my three mental characters that I always end up thinking of regardless of the situation.

Sanity, Insanity, and Myself, who I have been thinking of as Mediator. Click HERE for my post explaining where Sanity and Insanity came to mind. To the left there should be a thing to find all my posts including these characters…

Anyway, Lexy mentions that while actually working with the glass, there was a dull roar of “MAKING GLASS”, and when cooling and twisting and doing other things to the hot glass, thinking “don’t touch the glass!” with lots of undercurrent thoughts like don’t set anything on fire and whatnot…

I feel like I would be having a very similar reaction, but with a bit more paranoia towards the possibility of potentially harming myself or others.

The idea of molten-glass burns freaks me out.

It freaks me out more than the idea of molten-lava burns, because people don’t try to make lava into art.

The possibility of hurting someone else while I’m working, while I’m trying to make some piece of art, while I’m doing ANYTHING that could possibly result in someone else’s harm freaks me out.

Last summer when I was working with heavy machinery daily around my fellow maintenance workers, I was freaking out a lot.

So the idea of fiddling around with molten glass with other people around me also doing this… freaks me the hell out.

I would still do it though.

But it doesn’t keep me from thinking that the insane and fairly bitchy part of my consciousness would be going off like a little kid who wandered off in Ikea.

Fascinated, freaking out, touching things and possibly breaking things, being a nuisance to other people, being a tiny-human-shaped terror.

The sane part would be that employee you go to to find that same kid.

They know what to do, they try to keep you calm and happy so you can enjoy your foray into the large plot of land that is Ikea, and when they find the child, they will do damage control and do their best to get that demon-child back to someone who can control it. The Mediator.

I have a friend who worked at Ikea for a summer, by the way.

So in my mind, the situation would likely have me looking fairly normal, perhaps with a slightly hysteric (Happiness? Freaking out? Smiling regardless of reason.) smile, with Insanity screaming in my ear all the things that could go wrong, all the craptastic things that could result in me and others going on a fun trip to the hospital. Screaming about how I SHOULDN’T TURN TOO QUICKLY! SOMEONE MIGHT BE THERE! FUCK! Oh, and also, BE SURE TO WARN EVERYONE THAT YOUR CLUMSY ASS IS HEADING OVER THERE SO YOU DON’T CRIPPLE THEM! SHIT!

Never mind Sanity speaking calmly to me at my other side what EXACTLY I have to do, as I need to do it, and that everyone knows to watch out, calm down, nothing to worry about, just be careful, breathe…

It really doesn’t help with the fact that it seems like it’s almost a familial trait to want to play with fire. I can barely be trusted with a candle… And oh look, shiny-glowing-hot-glass-FUNNNNNNN!

Yeah, I imagine that going to a glass blowing workshop would be the most mentally tiring thing I’d have done for the entire year.

And I’m saying this AFTER having just finished my exams…

Jeez…

And I still want to go to one of these things!

By the way, for the >*< at the end of her post, mentioning her setting things on fire and her mentioning of heating up a muffin for 10 minutes…

*sigh* I will explain.

I have been the source of a lot of fiery food/other being thrown to the back yard. A lot of the time it was from me trying to heat up my own food, so this isn’t me being a pyromaniac child, no.

This is usually from me not understanding the answer to a question.

The incident Lexy is talking about:

That I had asked Dad how long it took to cook muffins after he’d finished a batch.

He said to put them in the oven for about ten minutes, and then check on them.

The oven HE was talking about

 vs.

The oven I Thought he was talking about

So, a while later after a few minutes a burning smell was happening, there was the alarm going off, and a flaming muffin was being chucked out the back door into the snow.

Yay for winter.

To recap:

That I had asked Dad how long it took to cook muffins after he’d finished a batch.>> (Me: I want to eat a warm muffin later) <<

He said to put them in the oven for about ten minutes, and then check on them. >> (Dad: Aw, she wants to know how long to cook muffins) <<

It’s more of a mistake on my side, I think, but considering I was at that waist-height age, and not very good at getting across exactly what I wanted to know…

Yeah.

And it wasn’t the only thing I’d set on fire before, either, but I think that the full list would need a blog post of its own.

In case you need a visual, the flaming muffin probably looked something like this before it hit snow. You can imagine why it might have alarmed the Family to see this in the microwave...

I Don’t Believe in WAITING!

FINAL UPDATE FOR THIS! See HERE for anything else on my journey through this ordeal…

So, I finally watched The Last Episode Of The Second Season Of BBC Sherlock.

Which means I have to wait until around Christmas (approximately, maybe January) for the next part season.

I should have waited….

I have been re-watching the series with a couple of friends, one of whom hadn’t seen the series before. I kind of maybe sort of forced her to watch it, but since her computer hates Sherlock, we have been watching it, one episode a night, with my laptop set on top of a juice box packaging container on op of a chair with the screen as bright as can be and the volume as high as it can go.

Today (Wednesday) is a small break for her because she has to review some things she doesn’t get in class, as well as catching up on sleep.

But my other friend (of the two who watched the series with me) hadn’t finished watching the second episode of season 2, and she wouldn’t be able to watch it tomorrow night, so I watched it with her tonight.

It was awesome, as all episodes of BBC Sherlock are.

But, at the end of it, and I knew it was coming, she tuned to me with a smile and said “Let’s watch the next episode”

It was only 9.

It would be over soon enough if we did watch it, 10:30, 10:40 if there was bathroom breaks.

It felt like something inside of me was shrivelling up when I set up the next episode…

Five minutes into the episode and I wanted to turn it off, wait until the next season came out.

Ten minutes later that same part of me that shrivelled up was screaming at me to turn it off! Black out the screen, mute it! TURN IT OFF! YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE EPISODE!

That shrivelled prune squirmed inside me and threw a massive hissy fit for another five minutes before it got distracted enough by the episode that it only remembered to start screaming again a little less than an hour and a half later. Or, as I’m realizing now, It could have been Insanity having tied it up. Possibly with the help of Sanity. I mean, Sherlock is amusing and interesting and the end of the first season nearly drove me mad, so that must have been amusing for Insanity… But also, being afraid of watching the last episode of the second season isn’t terribly rational, so shutting up that fear of WHY-MUST-I-WAIT-FOR-THE-NEXT-SEASON!!?!?! makes sense. It’s like ripping off a band-aid, best get it over with quickly, Sanity might say. But it can also be like ripping it off in a pool, so that you’re grossed out every time you see it floating there in the water, because you’re never quite sure if that one’s yours, Insanity might add. Probably with a smile…

But then again, Insanity would be that gross kid in the pool who would pick up the band-aid and whip it at you to gross you out.

In any case, by the end of the episode, that Shrivelled Thing was back to screaming.

You’re going to regret this! WHY DID YOU WATCH IT! YOU’RE GOING TO DIE! What the hell??? TURN IT OFF BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!

The ending was already spoiled for me, so I knew what was going to happen…. so I watched the episode through the screams of that shrivelled part of me, watched as what was spoiled unfolded (nice mental image, that), watched all the way through, and now it is with a heavy heart that I await the next season to come out. Why didn’t I wait? I probably could have waited for the next season to be out before watching it…

Perhaps the band-aid was not ready to come off.

But it’s off, and if I’m going by Dad’s philosophy of band-aids, it’s better to not put back on another band-aid. It’s best to air the wound, put on some Polysporin, and besides, it’s not even bleeding…

Watching the episode was probably less like taking off a band-aid, and likely more like putting Polysporin on a scrape.

*sigh* Fun times.

I seriously can’t wait until the next season comes out…

For all those who want to watch the show, go to THIS LINK HERE and watch, and become a fan, and love it.

Also, for those who Read my post HERE about how much I miss my dog, and are curious about what I named my stuffed dog, my friends and I figured out its name.

Benedict Scott. As in Benedict Cumberbatch (Sherlock) and Andrew Scott (Moriarty).

AND because I have two middle names (Elizabeth Rose), my manly stuffed dog also has two middle names. They weren’t really my choice, but I think it works.

Benedict Simba Rafiki Scott. Scott-Cumberbatch if you don’t want the last name to end so abruptly.

According to the internet, if you look up the meanings of each name, my dog’s name means (in full):

Blessed Lion Friend Of Scottish Origin

Which is funny because he’s a dog.

But my Benny Scott confused dog-lion friend is mine and may be species confused but will never be confused for anyone else’s 😀

Thank’s all 😀

Insanity Strikes! Passively… Why am I doing this?

Insanity tries to influence your life in many ways, and most times what Insanity suggests you do you will NOT do because you know, logically, that it’ll get you in trouble. Or it’s weird. Or it’ll be embarrassing and beyond how weird you’re willing to be.

Especially in public.

The crazy ideas will make you smile, either as you are thinking it or as you think on it later, but you will recognize it as a crazy idea or thought. Insanity will be barking out these ideas, spewing them like a unicorn spews rainbows to tap dance upon, pantomiming them in your daydreams until that muscle in your face that you never consciously use starts twitching. Then Insanity will point out that you actually developed an eye twitch, and you may or may not follow the suggestion to tell your friend excitedly that that ACTUALLY happened.

It is in this way that we can join forces with Sanity to keep out of jail or a padded room.

But it is when Insanity suggests things in a more passive way is where you have to watch out.

Do you know what I mean? That passive idea from Insanity that isn’t so hard that you have to go out of your way to do, or is private enough that you don’t see why you don’t NOT have to do it.

Take my morning for example.

I’m getting ready to leave for home for the Christmas break, have another 2.5 hours until I have to leave to have a LOT of time to wait at the train station… And this is after having a shower and finishing pacing and making sure that anything spoil-able in the apartment doesn’t have the chance to go off…

So I rolled out of bed and texted my Mom to not call to make sure I’m up (something that we established last night), gathered up all of the things I need to take a shower and went to the bathroom.

As a side note, I had to gather up everything because after the beginning probation period I set, my bathroom co-user has failed phenomenally in displaying the right amount of sanitary sense. He leaves thousands of tiny little nasty hairs on the floor of the shower, is gross with the soap bar at the sink and suds up a ring around the entire sink and on the floor… and he also, for some reason, hides the shower spray and the toilet bowl cleaner behind the toilet. I’m not leaving any of my soaps, shampoos/conditioner/body wash or towels or bath mat (for the shower) within easy access.

But I had my shower, cleaned myself up, dried myself off, and was going to put back on my pj’s… why? Because I was too lazy to grab clothing, and my pj’s were clean enough.

But apparently not, because after finishing putting on my pajama pants, I was about to put back on the shirt I had decided on as a pajama top when I decided to give the sniff test.

The sniff test, for those who are denying that they do it, is the test to see if your shirt actually smells that bad. For me at least, the sniff test has three levels.

One is that I’m checking if it’s something I’ve already washed but forgot.

Two is checking if that shirt I’ve already worn is fit to be worn again.

Three is to see if it is something I’m fine sleeping in. I don’t have any designated sleeping shirt except for the few shirts I have that are hole filled and kind of grungy shirts that I keep hold of for sentimental reasons. Like my SkyDome t-shirt. It will never really be the Rogers Centre in my mind. Never.

But the shirt I had slept in last night no longer passed the third sniff test, and so I folded it up in my bath mat with my soaps and whatnot, wrapped my towel around my torso, and made the short walk back to my room.

Here is where Insanity suggests, passively, disinterestedly, offhandedly, in such a way that it seems totally logical… the idea that has me writing this up now.

“Why do you have to put a shirt on now?”

Well, I don’t.

Not really…

And by NOT putting on a shirt it means I can procrastinate putting together an outfit for a while.

If I put on a shirt now, it mean I have to decide on an outfit so that I don’t have to change shirts later if I really want to wear different pants.

And it’s not like it’s cold…

When Insanity gets logical like this, you know it’s channeling your procrastinating mindset, and it’s enough to get Sanity to agree… even if reluctantly.

So here I am, writing this up while I’m in the mindset, while I have no shirt on (because I know that some reading this are wondering), listening to tunes on Grooveshark, and wondering what Lexy will think of this if she ends up reading this during the time I’m on the train.

Part of her, I’m sure, is embarrassed that I’m writing a post on this, without a shirt or bra or anything on (That’s a lie… I’m wearing a necklace), and yet part of me is also wondering if she’ll end up saying something witty about this post when I next see her face-to-face… like maybe “Nice shirt… glad you have one on…” or perhaps “I see you’ve bundled up” or something even more vague that wouldn’t suggest to the rest of the family or anyone else listening that I was at some point going topless.

I feel like the song I’m currently listening to (Warhol’s Portrait of Gretzky by Hawksley Workman) works pretty well with how weird I’m feeling right now…. because I’m still not really seeing a problem with being naked up top.

And if anyone wants to know what Sanity says on this subject right now, she’s pretty fine with it… not really thinking it’s okay that I’m writing a post about it (Insanity approves), but since I’ve locked my door and aren’t parading around sans shirt in front of an open window, this isn’t exactly a BAD idea, or an embarrassing one, or one that will haunt me for the rest of my life…

Wow that has a possibility of coming back and biting me in the ass. Perhaps this post will become the written equivalent of a meme. I don’t know.

If anyone’s wondering what kind of thoughts I’ve had since being topless for this amount of time….

There’s a lot more of a breeze/air movement in my room than I thought.

My necklace pendant keeps tapping me. (it always did that, I’m just noticing it more)

The chords of my headphones are taking a page from my necklace, but to the side.

I wonder what it would be like if I had hair as long as it once was before I first donated hair a couple of years ago.

You notice the stray hair stuck you your chest/stomach (from your head) a lot quicker. It’s just more obvious.

You notice the recently dyed purple hair even more. (I got streaks to the lower layers of my hair… I don’t think I ever ended up mentioning this)

You look down a lot more often, and wonder why.

I wonder if I would feel more awkward about walking around without a shirt or bra if I hadn’t gone to Rangers and had a roommate who took off her shirt as soon as she was inside.

I wonder if this would feel more awkward if I hadn’t ever played strip poker or never went skinny dipping.

I wonder if someone more self-conscious than me would have stopped writing this after a little while to go put  shirt on.

Thought: Jeez, the chair back is cold

Thought: ACK! Shiver of DOOOOOOOOOOOOM….

Stretching  is weird.

It’s actually a bit colder than I thought it was in my room…

Thought: I wonder if any of my roommates will ever read this… hm. Whatever.

And now I have to go finish packing. Read Lexy’s latest post HERE, because it’s significantly more serious than this was, and a good warning to people who have dogs and buy treats for them.

I may write another blog post or two while on the train. I don’t know. Depends on if the train wifi is going to crap out again.

CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME!

Oh, and while I’ve written about how Insanity has suggested  I go outside without pants on (painted on pants… use the paiiiint DON’T DO IT!), I won’t ever go outside casually without a significant piece of clothing (ie. a shirt, pants, shoes [in winter]…). To the family, if you were wondering, this is just an odd experience for me. Mom, that text you got from me? The one that says “hahaah, I’m feeling really odd right now… can’t wait to be home,” doesn’t that ‘odd’ have a whole new meaning now? Have fun with that 😀

I Laugh at Unfortunate Things

I have a bit of an issue when I rewatch movies…

I laugh at unfortunate things.

For example, I was watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine earlier, and in the beginning, where kid Wolverine gets all pissed off and starts screaming, looking at those new spiky claws bursting forth from between his knuckles…

I was laughing.

Laughing pretty darn hard. Dramatic kid acts dramatically.

Later, when there’s the dramatic parting between Victor and Jimmy/Logan, I’m giggling a fit, and as soon as it scene flashes to the Canadian Rockies, I’m still giggling, this time about how he’d like “I’m going to get away from the fighting… now where to do tha–CANADA! Canada! Of course!”

Of course, Canada… and then, after he decides to go Canadian, he also decides to be a lumberjack.

That’s not a cliché old Canadian job at all 😄

In other movies, a character dies dramatically, I giggle, A very sad parting between two characters that you KNOW should be together.. giggles again..

I think it’s because in the first time I watch a movie, I have all of myself distracted by the moving-pictures of newness to attract all of my attention, making me try to think ahead as to what’s going to happen (because I like to spoil ‘surprises’ for myself.. I usually guess right. I do this for books as well).

The second or third or whatever time around, I blame the giggles on my humour mixed with Sanity’s humour and Insanity’s humour.

Aha, I know that part of you, if you’ve read other posts of mine, are thinking “Right, Insanity and Sanity again, huh?”

But I also know that those same thoughts are thinking “Um, Sanity has a sense of humour?”

Yes, Sanity has a sense of humour.

And it’s very close to Insanity’s idea of it, especially in regards to movies.

Insanity can find humour in pretty much anything, and Sanity finds humour out of ridiculous things… like a kid yelling out while looking like they’re acting.

This leads to both laughing over stupid parts of movies that, if you were watching it get filmed on its own, you’d be giggling as well.

That usually causes me to giggle at cartoons as well, when a character says something that, when I think about them saying it in a studio, makes me laugh.

This is why any thoughts about acting–vocal or otherwise– have always been dashed.

My Mom can help me in convincing you of this, as she can tell you multiple times that I thought Id be clever and lie to her, and will have a serious face for about 2 seconds after I lie…

And then I’ll burst into giggles.

There’s some more inappropriate giggling…

Two Sides of the Same Turtle… In Harry Potter… In Reality? No.

I was watching a comedian on YouTube (because it’s taking over what I find amusing to do to waste time D:), and one comedian came up and she mentioned something that made me thing. Here is the video in case anyone wants to try to jump ahead of me in this:


Can you guess?

She says that she can eat a full pizza by herself. She looks at the serving size, sees that it feeds 2-3 people and counts in her multiple personalities and calls it a meal…

I wonder if that would work for me.

If, when I went home and got out one of the big plates for when I’m eating whatever cooked deliciousness that my Dad has made up, I could co-explain it with “I’m a university student and I miss your cooking… also, this is for me and two different personalities that live in separate rooms of my mind. Don’t worry.”

The first bit would explain the first night… and maybe the following two dinners after that. The rest though… I think my parents worry about how much I’m eating. They shouldn’t.

I too can eat a whole pizza myself. I was feeling lazy the other day and was going to order a pizza. Then I decided that it would be embarrassing to bring out the empty box the next day to put in the recycler as it was the weekday and when my friends come over for a couple of hours it’s generally known.

Bu still, it got me wondering another thing… That wondering has caused me to realize something else too.

The wondering would be about what would be my Insane and Sane sides favourite foods. And how would they eat them.

The realization is that I think about my sane and insane sides a bit too much.

But they’re interesting to think about, as I have to wonder exactly how much of what Insanity wears is stuff that I would LIKE to wear but don’t have the balls or confidence to wear, and how much more like Lexy’s would my grades be like if I was a it more Sanity-oriented, rather than middling?

Would my earlier goal of Architectural Engineering have become reality? Would I have made plans for a sideways skyscraper? (think on that for a moment)

Why was it that after I wrote my bus-driver joke with Sanity and Insanity, and I wrote that they had blue eyes like I do, did my mental image of Insanity having one purple eye and one Green eye not fade? Why did I immediately think that “Well of course Insanity would get in on the coloured contacts deal (and why would she limit herself to only one colour?), and of course Sanity also has contacts, she’s just too busy getting other things done to put them on.”? It doesn’t make much sense that I immediately come up with these solutions. Or it does, but I’m making actual characters out of them.

And as I’ve been reading quite a bit of Harry Potter fanfiction lately, with many different characters, I’ve found that when I’m thinking of certain characters and plots a lot, I wake up thinking that it’s somewhat real.

One morning I woke up to my alarm and almost went back to sleep, thinking that “I can take a shower tomorrow… I can just use a cleaning charm when I wake up before I go to class.”

Other such thoughts, which caught me equally unawares, were these:

“Lexy’s next dog should be a Krup…” (a Krup [or Crup] is a little terrier-type dog with a forked tail, who is a great guard dog who attacks muggles on instinct. Obviously I don’t think of my family as muggles)

“My foot has been so itchy… I should look up a healing spell or something…” (Whatever was wrong with my foot is now solved, AFTER I did thorough research on all that could be going wrong with my foot… at one point I was certain that I was developing athletes foot, and was planning on going out to get a creme. Laziness saved me embarrassment and money.)

“I just need a potion, and I’ll stop throwing up already” (At one point, during a time when I actually had a morning class, my stomach was like “Umm…. EVERYTHING OUT! NOW” and I was unhappy and escaped from the toilet long enough to e-mail the teacher and say that I wasn’t feeling ‘well’ before going back to the toilet. I think this Harry Potter imaginings was wishful thinking)

“I would much rather be studying Transfiguration right now… might do that later…” (STUPID MIDTERMS! I HATE THEM!)

And all of these thoughts ended with something along the lines of “Oh… wait…” at varying times after I had them.

So I’m kind of afraid that at some point I’m going to wake up to some noise (like my alarm) and think something like “Oh no, Insanity has changed my alarm again… or she’s just making beeping noises… why hasn’t Sanity stopped her already???”

Or anything like this:

“Sanity will help me do my homework” (I don’t actually abuse smart friends like this, I just borrow their colourful notes to look at before exams)

“I wonder what Insanity would do to that girl” (She sat in the front row of class, next to me, and played games all class… And then at the end of class she went up to the prof. and was all panicky “Oh, I TOTALLY didn’t understand this part or this part or this part… Heeeeelp me I’m pitiful”… didn’t know whether or not to be angry or impressed as I was distracted by whatever game she was playing.)

“Sanity can go out to buy the groceries…” (I dislike grocery shopping as they put tempting snacks that I don’t NEED at every corner and aisle)

“I should steal some of Insanity’s clothing… when was the last time she did laundry…?” (I need to do laundry. I need to add money to my laundry card.)

I really want a pizza now…

OH! and check out the ChickComedy’s channel on YouTube 😀 Very funny 😀

Crazy Raisins And Disappointing Chocolate

While in Loblaws a while ago, I found this stack of boxes with golden-wrapped chocolate. It was on sale. There were many things on sale, many things that I wouldn’t buy even though it’s on sale, and it’s for a variety of reasons…

I need this shirt and a mirror for when I go shopping...

I don’t need that many pickles….

That’s a sad amount of cheese for that price anyway….

Do I need that much salad dressing? Do I even have any salad? Do I want salad right now? I should probably have a salad… later.

But I already have a massive amount of milk!

More cheese… *sigh*…

These thoughts drown out the over-eager child voice that’s in my head saying “HOMIGOD! It’s a WHOLE DOLLAR OFF! Buy it now before it’s NO LONGER ON SALE!

I feel like that voice is also Insanity being mean, and poking fun at me being a poor, weak university student who also has to carry home all the useful edible crap I have to buy to survive…

But back to the golden wrappers.

I know that quite a few who are reading this are thinking of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (High fives for awesome :D) when I mention the golden wrapper, but this chocolate isn’t as awesome as all that.

This chocolate is a part-way disappointment.

Every gold-wrapped chocolate bar was large enough to garner the “It was THIS BIG” gesture, and with the squiggle-curve signature that made it Presidents Choice it promised to be all levels of delicious in 300g.

I bought two.

One milk chocolate, one dark.

Just to be even. Somehow. Just because.

I started with the milk chocolate, and finished it while studying for my art history midterm. It was sad to reach into the gaping wound in the wrapper and find it a husk, an empty shell of what it once was.

As I had finished the entire bar, I decided to use some self-restraint and hide the second bar out of sight in an obvious but out of the way area of my room for later.

Later came.

I was disappointed.

The dark chocolate bar is a disappointment…

Presidents Choice had let me down.

The awesomeness that was found within the milk chocolate was not within its darker counterpart, and this came as a huge blow to me as I like dark chocolate better than milk. Just because.

But I am always determined nowadays not to waste, and i have never thrown away chocolate… I’m not starting now.

So I brought out my bag of Crazy Raisins.

As the name is a bit long as a street name they’re called “Craisins”

(Ocean Spray product)

They, combined with the fail chocolate, would last me through my next bout of studying and general life for the next week or two.

A pinch of Craisins and a nibble at the chocolate made everything better. Made me realize that I’m still not going to get dark chocolate from PC again unless I need it to bake, but also made me realize that, as I’m eating these, my sister is going to read this and be entirely unimpressed as she will be thinking about how she doesn’t really like cranberry raisins, and that if I really didn’t like the chocolate I could have brought it home at Christmas and shared with the rest of the family.

Mainly her, If I’m reading her mind properly, but still.

As a response to that…

No.

It’s still mine.

You have Dog, I have chocolate.

It’s totally unfair as Dog doesn’t get used up as easily, but still.

No.

I suggest others try this combination, as chocolate chips are also good as it means you can mix it all up together in a baggie and have a bag of delicious to bring with you.

That football symbolizes chocolate. Just Because.

Insanity is Mean

I realized as I was rereading what I posted before this that Insanity can be mean. A real bitch sometimes, actually.

Insanity is usually pretty fun, even if it’s more than unwise to listen to her. Or him, if you’re a guy.

But Insanity is also the one who creates doubts. Insanity is the voice niggling at the back of your mind, poking at your fatty brain tissue, making fun of your frontal lobe from their position from a dark corner. Insanity is the one to convince you that those people you walked past? Yeah, the ones who were just laughing?

Yeah, they were laughing at YOU.

Why? Because you’re STUPID and UGLY and WEAK. You look like  pussy today, and that guy who just handed you that thing you dropped is thinking you’re a stupid bint.

What’s a bint? You’re so stupid, it’s something that sounds like a british person would say it. a british person probably HAS said it.

British people are cooler than you.

You shouldn’t try to fake an accent, even as a joke though. Because that’s RACIST!

Insanity is the one who also convinces you to do embarrassing things. Especially when you’re not paying attention to Sanity.

This happens a lot when you’re really tired, or, I guess, drunk.

It’s a great idea to text your friend at 4 am. Hm. They aren’t responding. Try calling.

It’s a great idea to try to lick your nose right now.RIGHT NOW. Now see how far you can stick out your tongue. How long is that thing anyway?

You can Dance. You’re a great Dancer. DANCE ALREADY! See, everyone’s eyes are on you, you’re fabulous!

HAH! Trip on air!

You should tell a joke. How about “You just dropped your pocket.” Tell someone that. Now.

Lets paint our hands… then sleep.

Insanity can be fun, yes, but without Sanity alert enough to help our regular mentality filter through the ideas for the good and bad and maybe later, Insanity will lead you to a room you don’t want to be in.

That room will either have bars or a lot of padding on every wall.

In this mysterious room, you will also be given ‘fun’ new clothes. One has extra long arms and straps all over, and the other is classically portrayed as black-and-white striped or Orange.

You don’t want to go to this room.

Listen to Sanity, please.

Don’t wear Paint(ed on) Pants.

Don’t scream randomly in class, no matter how curious you are to see what would happen.

Don’t stay up to all hours of the night unless you have NOWHERE TO BE for the next (at least) THREE DAYS!

Don’t try to tell your teacher an “In your pants” joke.

Use your Sanity filters wisely