oh the nerdtastic tastey beauty of it!

OH! My goodness, is that a tastey chocolate doughnut displaying the phases of mitosis?? you might say when you see this awesome picture, which was discovered via stumble upon here:

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/5VXZWC/www.kevinvanaelst.com/cellularmitosisweb.jpg

Science nerds and doughnut enthusiasts alike can revel in this beautiful display of the cell sex.

Although I am very fond of the dance my baby bio teacher did to express the way cells multiply, surely this is the best possible way to learn about such a terribly difficult thing to memorize. Who wouldnt be excited to go to a biology class with such confectionary goodness to look forward to?

The evils of capitalism, and psychology: two completely related items

A letter to the two girls who sat behind me in my developmental psychology class this week:

Dear typical HSU students,

Please for the love of God, stop talking. Or at least save the irrelevant opinions that you think some how pertain to a lecture on how poverty effects a child's mental and physical development to yourself until after class. Everyone was on the same page until you decided to open your mouth and tell us all about how communism is evil. These sorts of conversational smoke bombs that destroy a liberals thought process cannot just be dropped on a classroom full of Humboldt students willy nilly. With this kind of mentally destructive power one could destroy a whole... lets say actually informational psychology lecture. Use your discretion or be forced to take the mid-term having no idea what you're being tested on because you've spent the entire semester contemplating how america could be bettered if we would only adapt the economic model that North Korea used.

Those of us who would actually like to learn something from the teacher this semester would really appreciate it if you stopped interrupting her every sentence with countless what if questions. The urge to scream at your unstoppable need to argue every one else into submission with you're non-bathing, live in the trees to be closer to nature point of view is far to hard for me to suppress and take notes at the same time. You go live in your tree with the other people who don't understand that communism doesn't work large scale, I'm gonna pass this class.

Ok?

Break!

Oh summer..

Summer time makes promises of all things that are wonderful and good, then it tells you to get a job or you'll have to come home next year. The sun is shining brilliantly bright outside every day, its beautiful, you should really see it. Unfortunately instead of lounging at the beach munching on a burrito in my fabulous pink polka dot bikini, I am either out walking around in that beautiful 80 degree sun saying to every tiny about to go out of business shop to massive multinational broke corporation "Hi, I was just wondering if you guys are hiring?". The big genuinely fake smile on my face really saying what over 10 % of California's populations is saying: Please give me a job, I'm tired of being broke!

Having newly discovered that I will be responsible for my own rent next semester, and exactly just how much thats going to cost, I've decided maybe I might want to work, you know, for a little pocket change. At least that is what the delusion everyone I tell I'm job hunting to is operating under. No my dear, sweet, confused, middle-aged persons, pocket change is not what I need. I am actually looking to put a very small dent in that massive, dark, harry, scary bill that the California State School system will be sending me very shortly.

In my job search one terrible truth has become entirely too evident. I have no experience. These days, to get a job you would think required no experience what so ever, like bussing tables at a cripey restaurant, needs experience. But dang it, if a person can't get experience doing the brain dead job of wiping down tables and doing dishes, where in the name of Sam Hill are you supposed to get experience. People I know cant just go around owning places for me to get a job at (and I'm certain thats the only way they can be gotten at the moment) just so i can be gainfuly employed.

So I'm digging a hole. A big fat hole right into the ground of my future monetary freedom. Thats what the whole cliche about college is, I suppose. I just guess I was very much hoping it wasn't the reality. The next three years of my life will be spent hoping for financial aid, begging for tuition from parents, and taking out lots of student loans. Thanks CSU, your inexplicable fees, and increased tuition will hopefully teach me how to deal with people taking ridiculous amounts of money for intangible results in the future.

The end of april showers

In a little over 2 weeks i will be leaving the land of ice and snow. Finally, after enduring months upon months of rain and clouds, I get to go home, to the sun. I am taking this opportunity to make a list of things which I will be absolutely elated to be reunited with upon ariving back in San Diego.

1) Starbucks: appropriately at the top of the list, where it should always be. Just like God intended it.

2) A real mattress: anyone who has ever slept on a dorm bed understands this. Im done with trying to get decent shut eye on a rock. I am currently lying on that rock, and I am angry about it.

3) MEXICAN FOOD: I cannot express the depth of importance this holds in peoples general well being and happiness. Angry with someone? A flouta will solve your problem. Teminial illness? Rolled tacos. 

4) The sun: Arguably one of the most important parts of the joy that is San Diego. Get your vitamin D, trust me, life sucks without it.

5) The beach: This goes quite well with #4. Sunshine, bathing suits, waves, sand between your toes, everything that is right and good with the world.

6) Panera Bread: Just good stuff.

7) In-N-Out: God lives there. Enough said. Well, he moves back and forth between there and every cup of starbucks coffee everywhere.

There are more that I cant think of right now because the evil mattress beneath me hurts so much it forces out all intelligent thought, leaving nothing but profanity. 15 days San Diego, 15 days. Im comin' home :)

The Land of Ice and Snow

Once upon a time, there was a terrible land called the land of ice and snow. In the land of ice and snow, the sun never came out and it never stopped raining. The normal people were afraid to leave their homes because outside lurked the Birkenstock-wearing, dread-lock-having, happy-thoughts-cure-cancer, stuck-in-the-60's hippies. They were terrifying. The Land of Ice and Snow was ruled by and eeeeevil dictator, who in addition to banning the sun also banned coffee from the bears, especially European coffee. The evil dictator denied anyone living in the land of ice and snow access to the outside world. He did this by causing all the dragons used for transportation to be perpetually late. This way you could rarely get where you were going on time, if at all. The people living in the land of ice and snow were fed up to here with not being able to leave to feed their bears coffee. They sent multiple letters to the land of sunshine and happiness, and to their corespondents, the Greeks and the Irish. But the Greeks and the Irish were feuding in a great war, and thus had no gold left in their treasuries to use to save Barb and Tru-D, two of the people suffering most of the ailments that come from living in this dreaded land. So, the coffee deprived people of the land and ice and snow banded together. Edna, the leader of the deprived, called a meeting of all those with starving bears. The people yelled. They cried, the argued about the coffee and the dictator! Finally they decided something must be done. One brave soul named lower frank purposed that instead of the dragons, we build and enormous magical flying machine that could carry them all to the land of sunshine and happiness. So they began construction. There was much grueling labor, torment, sweat and toil put into the making of the magical flying machine. It was tough. They had to think happy thoughts, which is hard to do when you've got an angry bear on your hands. Finally they finished the magic flying machine. The Greeks and the Irish rejoiced and made peace. They formed a welcome party for Barb and Tru-Ds return. There was much celebrating, and much coffee, and all were happy.

The End

DISCLAIMER: no drugs were abused in the making of this story, just a lot of coffee deprivation. It'll drive you to do weird shihhh. This is your warning. Feed your bear coffee, for the love of all that is good and holy.

Thank You

Tru-D

Mommy guess what i learned in school today!

Good evening and welcome to another exciting installment to the college edition of my rants. As I'm sure you're aware, you diligent reader you, I am currently attending HSU. And in the wonderful world of pot heads, I am taking a world religion class. "Oh, that sounds like it would be an enlightening and educational experience." you might think. So did I. This belief persisted until i realized that guy at the front of the class who just raised his hand for the 400th time in the last 50 minutes is never going to stop trying to teach the class. His name is Lidea, which I think is very fitting to his role as pretentious college student #472. (I'm number 471) He is a religious studies major, who wants to become a Rabbi, which proved extra helpful during the Judaism portion of the class, and I now spend the greater part of my 120 minutes in World Religion thinking about what different objects would look like bouncing off of his self inflated cranium. Which happens to be capped by the beret that he wears every day. Now you're probably thinking: "Well gosh. You should really be nicer about this, this Lidea character cant be all bad." Well, you're right. Lidea does have some good qualities I'm sure. For one, there is not a single subject that he cannot form an opinion on. He is just that worldly.

Lidea has a pretentious college counterpart with a mullet and a flare for feminism. She reminds me of a turtle, and like pretentious college boy she seems to have this odd muscle dysfunction that doesn't allow her to lower her arm at the appropriate times. She is also filled with useful information on how America is full of evil doers who wish to corrupt the world, and all organized religion simply exists to get people to submit. These two often have discussions that they enjoy sharing with the class for extended periods of time, so as to enlighten our clearly mislead teacher and the rest of the class.

Today, in this wonderful world I like to call: arguments about the unimportant at an hour i should still be in bed, we had a guest speaker. He was supposed to talk about Islamic militancy. (Before i write the next little stint i would like to point out that I have a great deal of respect for Islam, it is a generally peaceful religion and its too bad that it gets such a bad rap.) So This guest speaker guy starts to talk about how miss-understood Osama Bin Laden is. Super awesome. Apparently he's just trying to model his religious

prophet and, Americans should try harder to sympathize with him Riiight. I'll get right on

that. Oh and by the way he says, Americans all practice some religion where the

constitution is out religious text and we worship the president. I know Obama is a little more

charismatic than our last guy, but i wouldn't call him a god.

You'd better believe our dynamic duo had something to say about this. The sad thing is that

this guest speaker has been the only one so far this semester not to just let them run with

their own theories and take over the class.

This is hardly a good thing. If the only people brave enough to stand up to the people forcing

their opinions on the public is a man with radical, if not terrifying, beliefs, the country's

in for a rough patch when these two fine specimen of Humboldt State graduate to yelling at

not just other college kids.

The bootay call

During my recent lapse in writing I have experienced on of many mile-stones of American youth. That's right folks, I've graduated and gone to college. Amazing I know. I managed to evade the ever increasing high school drop out statistics and get that piece of blank, rolled up paper. Now I get to join the ranks of the many pretentious students and seemingly further my education. Here's some of what I've learned:

During my limited college experiences thus far I've noticed one very prevalent phenomenon. This is the "booty call". You may already know this as the attempt made by a generally sleazy male, ages 15-302, depending on the ability to work his way around the foot shoved in his mouth, to have a no strings attached hook up.

While I haven't seen much so far, I believe this is particularly prevalent among freshmen. This could be brought on by that marvelous "I'm in college, and college is about hooking up, and hooking up only" (oh and don't forget the binge drinking) attitude. Both girls and boys are guilty of this one, no matter what we want to believe. For the girls, any otherwise devastating life choice can be brushed away with a "well its your freshman year, this is what your supposed to be doing." from one of those great friends who's name you wont remember tomorrow. How this is an excuse for catching seven different STD's in one night eludes me. And for the boys, "dude i was drunk, i swear she was hotter than that" will suffice.

The ultimate and most pure form of a booty call is of course when the booty-callee receives a text message, generally after 9pm inviting them to do something mundane, like hanging out in his room. This is fallowed by some physical activity and then an awkward "you should go, I have a class tomorrow..." never mind that tomorrow is Sunday, just continue on the walk back to your room hair disheveled and clothes missing buttons. Whatever you do don't take your eyes off the ground. Goodness knows you cant have the others doing the same thing see your whole face, otherwise you might have to discuss what you're doing.

But this is not the only way to behave when the booty call attacks, not at all. There are those who completely ignore the confused/ horrified look on their partners face and the necessary walk of shame. These people choose to instead misinterpret the affair as a relationship. I've witnessed many a beautiful relationship bloom between two random people through the implication of a hook up. This usually happens when one of the participants had some sort of real attraction before the unannounced mistake. The purely physical relationship is sustained by awkwardly biting back your utter disgust at the other persons lack of personality before you make out already, calling sitting in your dorm watching a movie a date, and avoiding eye contact and physical affection while in public. Give it a week and the person who wasn't interested in the first place will stop waving when they walk by each other in the dining hall.

However unpleasant this is, it seems an inevitable part of your experience as a young adult. So, get out there and head to your favorite pretentious college kids room and try and ignore the shame, it's at least a little fun right?

mmdada

Today from the what irks me booth we discuss the all too frequent phenomena of the double commercial. You've all seen it at one time or another. This not so rare event is when a television channel will choose to air two commercials for the same product back to back. While possibly an effective advertising technique, this form of commercial can have some incredibly unpleasant side effects. Some of which may include: frustration, anger, channel flipping, displaced release of frustration in the form of yelling at ones fellow TV watchers, and refusal to watch the channel making the choice to show the Charmin Ultra commercial with the clearly radioactive ice cream twice, sometimes three times, in a row. This occurrence is not limited to the good people at Charmin either. Television channels will often air multiple advertisements for their own shows. One instance involved 5 unnecessary advertisements for a daytime crossword game show all at once. This event will invariably result in the refusal of the viewer to watch the advertised program. So I must say to you, television commercial selectors, change your ways if you wish to increase your number of viewers. That is all.

mr the president obama sir

So today when my brother was watching the telly, because he could not possibly let his brain do something by itself for an hour, I noticed it was the news. Also that the crotchety looking reporter man was discussing the presidents presence in good ol' "socal". This surprised me because I had heard absolutly nothing of this nationaly important presence. We are so terribly un-aware of all that goes on around us in Santee that we dont even know when Mr. President is just a few cities away. It seems we were all far too buisy discussing our lifted trucks and new srh shirts that we just missed this news all together.
A city must be very self involved to not even know that the man who runs its country is only a few short hours away from it. Honest to goodness. We (not me but the general populus of santee) are willing to drive 5 hours to sit in the desert and get drunk, but not to see what all's goin down in this here country of ours.
Although since basic laws about things like underage drinking and illegal drugs dont seem to apply here maybe we dont really need to be concerned. The stimulus package doesnt matter to us because were all either going to grossmont and dropping out or just joining the military. And Lord knows the skin heads dont really want to go see obama since this would just be a refreshing slap in their face. All in all perhaps its better that the wind of this news did not russle up the Santee inhabitants.
Disclaimer: I know we arent all like that in santee. im just running with what pops in my head. and you know those people are out there. it might even be you.

top hats and evening gowns

Earlier in the week I took a trip to Starbucks, as I do quite frequently, to get a wonderful, over sized hot beverage to satisfy my caffeine addiction. As I walked in the door I noticed two very elegant people sitting at a table, sipping coffee, and not talking. Instead they were both on their blackberries. The blackberries were not of, course, the first thing I noticed. Rather that the statuesque older man was wearing a top hat. His partner, a woman with a classic nineteen twenties bob and a matching cellular device, was wearing an evening gown. My first idea was that these people were being paid by the multi-billion dollar coffee company as a promo. But on the cashiers inform that this was not true my mind began to wander to more exciting reasons for their presence. I'm sure you never guessed that Santee is not exactly known for its population of cultured, elegant people. In fact, its quite the opposite. I wish we had more excitingly dressed people in this the city where old people come to die. Ankle long baggy shorts on bald white dudes just aren't really as appealing as the top hat. Someone should definitely start that fad up again. Top hats are pretty amazing really. Its like they scream "hey I'm a smart guy dang it!" Maybe I would look smart in a top hat. Or at least severely deranged. There's a girl who goes to the lovely West Hills High School who I saw once sporting an outfit you usually wouldn't see except on a British man from 1910. While this was definitely a bit off, I must commend her for her attempt to venture back to a time in which fashion was actually art. The mini skirt is somehow not as aesthetically pleasing as a long flowy evening gown.

everything annoying me annoys me

Today, since I was doing some lovely self evaluating, which happens often with my dear friend Chelsey, I realized one of my fundamental qualities. This is the fact that I am annoyed by a rather lot of things. This is one of the reasons I'm able to belt out a rant at any moment, somewhat like this one. But really people, the list goes on and on. From eating noises to busy work. If you think of something, I can probably think of a way it annoys me. Perhaps even just your attempt to think annoys me. I don't know. But this realization made me quite literally say "my being annoyed all the time annoys me." This seems redundant but what I was really thinking is that I wish that I could be a more tolerant person, ya know. so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to do my very best to not get annoyed by all the random little things that vex me. Just focus on the big things. you know, like the noise my moms heels make on the hard wood flooring. I mean its not as if I'm not annoying myself. Why, if I met me I would hate me. Wouldn't you.

Tuesday afternoon leaves me stomping angrily across my hallway, sneezing and muttering "drugs" (not the illegal kind, the kind that keep me alive). My boyfriend has left me alone, today, to contemplate my narcissism. Really I am a wonderful narcissist. You see whenever I have these lovely book ideas, which are more like sentences out of possible books, the main character seems to be me, someone greatly resembling me, or perhaps just with very similar characteristics. I find this to be a rather severe problem, since narcissism is in no way an appealing trait. But unfortunately prominent in teenage girls, I've noticed. We seem to be either extremely self involved or lacking in any form of self esteem. Or extremely self involved, yet acting as if we have low self esteem, so as not to be thought of as self righteous. Of course most people wouldn't use those exact words. I think stuck up is the word I was looking for. Now, you see, normally on such a lovely rainy afternoon I would be out and about with my quadruplet. However on this lovely day I have been ditched. Ditched for homework. Can you imagine? I think I am vastly more entertaining than homework (there's that narcissism again). I suppose some people find that sort of thing important, but I never did. Since C's proved to be quite adequate to get me into college, I think, why put in effort in subjects that are not at all pertinent to your career. This has been a rainy, angsty afternoon with a self involved teenage girl. Thank you for reading :)

the realization of your inner nerdy

As you may well be aware, my viewers (seeing as my viewers consists only of the teacher who must grade this blog and also track my absences in order to fail me if this be necessary) I was absent on Monday, the 2nd of February. On this day, which was filled with both the wonders of staying home and excesses of sleep, and the horrors of all that comes with being sick, I found my self, because of a lack of even the worst of daytime TV, watching Lord of the Rings. I also found myself quite enjoying this movie, which I had not seen since I was but a wee lass. And this causes me to wonder if I am indeed a ginormous dorkfish. Perhaps has this movie been so widely accepted by the public so that it has become a family film instead of a movie for the pursuers of dungeons and dragons to watch whilst role playing in the non kinky way. But again, this does not save my high school repertoire, because, my dear reader, I have indeed read the books. All of them. Including the prequel the hobbit. So today I shall freely be admitted into the world of the geek and gladly accept this, because life's more fun that way. nuf said home slice. In the immortal words of Kip of Napoleon Dynamite, "peace out"

La Butte

Bunnies Bunnies it must be Bunnies!!!
One of the lovely inhabitants of failure English was just telling me about her brand new bunny, and how sometimes he's difficult and says "ah I'm lame i don't want you to hold me!" and I thought about the evil killer bunny in Monty Python with great big pointy teeth. Then I thought about a musical episode of Buffy in which one of the deamons decides that the thing that has been killing everyone is Bunnies! I found that amusing because when you look at a bunny you can just tell it could never really kill anything. Except maybe some helpless alfalfa weeds, or maybe that's their ploy. They look like Innocent fuzzy fluff balls but they're really rather evil. I bet you that's why all the white ones have creepy blood read eyes. Vampire Bunnies!!!! OMG
The end.

so, danq

Having spent my very last seconds in the french class which has been scratching its nails on the chalkboard of my brain for the last three years, today I can finally vent all the terrible frustration that has been aching to be screamed at my french teachers uncomprehending face. The first offense being this "so, danq" which she frequently spouts during long speeches that have nothing to do with french. "danq" (pronounced :donk) is french slang for "so". These words mean exactly the same thing. Yet, she consistently speaks them adjacent to each other. this perplexes and annoys the remaining contents of the class, which has shrunk from its original 3 first year classes my freshman year to about 5 students mixed in with her third years. This decrease in the population of the students who choose not to take Spanish is not due to the difficulty of the language, or scheduling problems. It is due to the strange and ineffective ramblings of the teacher. I myself only remained in the class as far as I did because I was her very least favorite student, and was very aware of this. Since I return the feelings I stayed in the class to cause her the vexation that she imposed upon me during the entirety of my required two years of a foreign language. Slowly she became less and less tolerant until the point where she would almost completely ignore my raised hand in class and occasionally glare at me openly. This having been said I feel much better to be free of the class. I wish my unnamed teacher a very happy existence without me. I'm sure she will consider it much more enjoyable now having seen the glee on her face while she signed the paper releasing me from the class.

we all live in a yellow submarine!

You know, I have a Beatles play list on Pandora and they have not once played "yellow submarine". That angers me. But that is not, in fact, the reason for this here blog on the wonderful blogger dot com run by google. Nope. Rather it is to explain what you must find a rather confusing web address. But then the pink hippo comes from a lovely yellow tee-shirt I have on which is printed a pink hippo and the words "sometimes I wish I was a hippo." It is my favorite shirt. I think its bright and cheery appearance appeals to the part of my brain that never quite matured past six. That's not a bad thing, I don't think. Because everything is just a lot nicer at six. Its much easier to be positive if you can remain somewhat immature. Plus, life's just a lot more fun that way.

Earlier in the month, I found myself watching "march of the penguins" and thinking how utterly lame it is that they cannot fly. They are birds... who cannot fly. God is just slapping them right in the face and saying "hey you, see that bluebird over there defying gravity? Guess what you cant do that. hahaha." They're the same sort of creatures as the other birds that can do exactly what they are supposed to, and yet they lack the primary characteristic of their genus. Its rather sad. Ostriches cant fly either. But they're pretty big and evil so I guess that make up for it. And they can run really fast. Apparently in some places people ride them in rodeos. I wouldn't be willing to do that. I would be scared that it would throw me off and peck me to death with its huge beak. But then again, people ride lots of things they shouldn't in rodeos. Like miniature cows and horses that didn't do anything deserving a fat man with a southern drawl jumping on their back, hitting and yelling at them, whilst the afflicted animal only tries to free itself. People have done some rather rude things to these animals. Just like God did to the penguins. Maybe someday they'll learn to fly.

goodnight blogging

Seeing how this is in fact a homework assignment I have put it off till right before I have to start doing all the other things I put off. So readers of this blog, you shall hear all of my slightly disillusioned nighttime thoughts. It makes me think of all those strange people who feel the need to post a bulletin every night saying that they are leaving whatever social network they prefer. This bothers me in a way that you could not possibly understand. They probably don't even know half of the people they just said sweet dreams too. They wont even get to hear weather or not those people had sweet dreams because they will probably not talk to them the next day, and you can never remember your dreams.

You may have noticed that I'm not speaking quite like a normal Californian. This is the result of the book I'm currently reading which is entitled Dracula, by Bram Stoker. Oh look I italicized the book title. Mrs Liddelle would be proud of me. Stoker is a cool last name. He's probably excited a lot. I wonder if that's how the first person who was named that got it. Probably not. Well that's all folks. See ya on the flip side.

yo listen up heres the story

About a little guy who lived in a blue world! No. Rather about a little girl who lives in a lame world. Apparently I was supposed to do a post about yours truly. So here it is. I live in a very small, nightlife free town. It's lame. But it's all good because, guess what! This summer I leave for one of many exciting college locations! I haven't decided yet. Mostly because I've only received one letter, and that was from Humboldt. And seeing how I happen to be an asthmatic (that's right, I'm a nerd) I don't think that having a smot poker as a roommate would be particularly good for me. Not that I've got anything against hippies, they're lovely people. But the dying thing I'm not so keen on. I don't really understand hippies. I understand that trees are good for us, but when saving them hinders your ability to uphold basic personal hygiene I think there's cause to let the census be one tree less. Plus we get paper from them. Even though nobody uses paper any more.Everything is done on the line these days. Blogs for example, this isn't in a newspaper or a magazine, in order for anything to be recognized as important it must be on the Internet. We don't even talk to real people anymore. We hop on our computer and we go to the space and we type at peoples pictures, but that's alright. "The end justifies the means". If only i could remember what the ends are.

hello and good morning good blog searching people! welcome to another exciting blog from failure English. It is now 11:33 am, and i would like to point out that I, Megan Reynolds, should still be in bed. Did you know that if you google my name a freaky body builder lady shows up. Women, I'm sorry to tell you, should never be body builders. Neither should men. but even more so for women. Not only are the steroids wholy unhealthy, not to mention they make you spaz out for no apparent reason, but the general effect is a bizare bulgy, veigny, alien like look for all who participate. And the women who do it seem to focus only on muscles that make them look extremely manish. not good. Women were not intended to develope pecks. No sir. And why, i ask you, do all of these body builders insist on focusing soley on the upper body, so as to make them look like bloated featherless chickens? And is anyone really interested in looking at these bloated alien-chickens, other than the others like them, so they can decide that they're more muscled and ridiculous than each other? the moral of the story here is: muscles are good, looking like an alien creature who has come to laugh at the peuny earthlings is bad.