Tea

I love tea. Never did I ever until this past month. Now, I am obsessed. I feel like it is cleansing my soul and keeping me awake at the same time! I also have sleepy tea. It does not make me sleepy. I believe it is a mind trick and if I believe it makes me sleepy then I would get sleepy. But I did not let my mind work its powerful magic and I stayed up for 3 hours after I chugged my sleepy tea down.
Sad story: Yesterday, I went to Spot Coffee and ordered Pink Grapefruit Green Tea!!! So good! So hot though. We sat on the couch. Then my friend came to join us so we had to move over to make room. My friends currently sitting on the couch had no consideration for the scolding hot tea on my lap and decided to make room for my other friend real quick and moved around real fast causing my tea to pour all over my pants. It hurt. I wanted to scream. I was in a public area so I was able to restrain my scream by making the saddest frown I could for several minutes.
Speaking of getting burned. At the age of 4, I did not understand why the coils turned red on the stove when my mother made me Ramen noodles. When she took the pan off, I rested my entire palm including fingers on the red coils. I was real blistery and had to draw a cat in preschool with my left hand. I sucked at it, so my BFF helped me draw it. She drew the whiskers all wrong and I was pissed.
Back to Spot. Before all the chaos happened with the huge spillage on my legs, I had another incident before. As I was ordering, the worker asked me what my plans for the evening were so he could have a quick convo with me for a nicer tip. My plans for the evening were to attend an art gallery because my friend has some work up at it. Never do I go to art galleries on a Saturday night. Actually, never do I really go to art galleries on any night. I am just not that kind of person. I like art, ok, but plz understand what I mean. But, just like a typical Spot customer, I got my tea and told the worker that I was attending an art gallery.
I felt typical.
I hate feeling typical.

My cat has a really comfy cat bed and was sleeping on the kitchen floor instead one day. My friend said, "why doesn't Mitch ever sleep in his cat bed?" I said, "Because that would just be too typical."

Basketball

I used to want to play in the WNBA. Why? Ew, I don't know. I was tall. That is basically it. When I was in second grade I was taller than my teacher. Obvz she was insanely short. But she was an actual human and I was actually taller than her (we went back to back). So I figured it was my destiny to play basketball. I joined the team in my community and was pretty awesome. My mom thought I was precious because I smiled for about 10 minutes after every shot I made. But then I reached a point where my game matured and I no longer smiled when I scored. Then one time in third grade, I had the ball and a girl grabbed the ball and we were both holding on tight.
She bit me.
Less out of pain and more out of shock I quickly released the ball and stared at my arm. Bite marks? From a girl? In third grade? What a f*cking weirdo!!!!! I wish I could meet her now. She is probably one of those booger eating outcasts that wears tweety bird tye dye t-shirts, I'm sure.
So by the time I got to fifth grade, I felt that basketball was my calling. In 5th grade you can join the junior varsity team at my school. I was the only fifth grader that played in the game and not the fifth quarter. Was this typical to have fifth quarters? I think they were nothing but rude and embarrassing. You sucked if you played in the fifth quarter. I would rather not play than display my suckiness to the world in the fifth quarter. But anyways, I played in the real game. I didn't start or anything, but chill out, I still played. So when we were playing Sacred Heart, I was on the bench chatting my life away with my friends when I hear my coach calling my name to come in! Oh NO! I was not paying attention at all. Zone or Man? Oh shoot. So I quickly ask the girl that I am replacing what is going on. Ok, I am guarding #23. Ok. I go in. I am right under the hoop and somehow the ball is just rolling. I get it. I shoot. A simple layup. I miss. Get the rebound. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. Shoot. Miss. (please note: all of this is true without exaggeration) Shoot. Miss. "Wait" I think to myself. "Where is everyone?" Then it hit me. I looked behind me. Everyone was staring at me. I looked at the ref. He was pointing for me to go to the other side. OMFG! I shot at the wrong hoop. I shot at the wrong hoop a million times and missed each time. I gave the ball to the point guard. Continued for the few minutes remaining.
and
wanted
to
die.
The positive thing that came out of that experience was I used it as my most embarrassing story for the next 5 or so years of my life. I used it until I replaced it with when I fell down an entire flight stairs in my high school as a stupid Freshman and everyone saw and I was bleeding in four places.
Eighth grade. I somehow continued to play basketball even after the mortifying experience. And I was still super good. I did the jump ball and I am pretty sure I did not even jump. Tippy toe and got it every time. That was my goal. Win the jump ball every time. I got MVP. I ruled.
High school. Ok, this is when I realized I am not that good. I made the team but stayed on the bench 24/7. I did not mind it too much cause I liked the other bench warmers. And I was getting to the age where being that manly was kinda grossing me out. The varsity coach came to our practice once and gave us nicknames.
Dancing Bear. He seriously gave me Dancing Bear. WHO CALLS A GIRL A DANCING BEAR!
I somehow continued to play through my sophomore year. It was then that I hit a major milestone. We were playing Mercyhurst, our biggest rivals, and everyone came to watch. We were undefeated. They were undefeated. This game was super important. The game was really intense, but we were super good so we were winning by 8 points near the end of the game. With one minute left, I turn to my teammates on the bench and say, "What if coach put me in now? That would be so mean." We laugh at the thought. Not playing the whole game and then just playing for the last minute. What a pity minute. How embarrassing that would be. But I got a little nervous. They would do something like that. So I watch the clock slowly go down. 30 seconds left. Phew, I am not going in. Good.
Then, with 1.7 seconds left in the game I hear, "JAMIE!" WTF. Why is coach calling my name? I look at her. She yells at me to get in. I give her the deadliest death glare my eyes could produce. "ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!" I respond. "No, GO IN!" Stupid Bitch. I go in for the f*cking 1.7 seconds. I stood there. Holding back tears. We won. I could not have been sadder. I did not try out my junior year. I ended my basketball career.

Man Boobs

One good thing about being a girl is that I do not have to live my life stressing every day about whether or not I am growing man boobs. If I were a man, it would be a major concern of mine. In my opinion, you do not need to have sexy pecs, but plz do not have man boobs. If you are fat, then its more ok. Its more accepted. But the sucky part of that is: you're fat.
I believe that man boobs on slightly normal sized men are the worst thing that could happen to an alright looking guy. Like a little chunkadunk of a boy but with very apparent man boobs. Oh gawd. Poor dude.
If I were a guy, I would not be super into the gym. For the same reasons why I wouldn't gel my hair and constantly take jager bombs. But what if my man body was prone to getting all fatty in the chest area? Ugh. It would just be depressing. I would spend a lot of my time trying to wear a tight shirt underneath a baggier shirt. But then what if I was going to get laid that night and then she saw how tight my undershirt was and then she didn't like me anymore. But then maybe I wouldn't worry about that because let's face it. I have man boobs. I most likely am not getting laid.

side note: finding a pic for this blog really grossed me out.

Stupid People

I am for them not existing. What a waste! OK well, I do not think we should kill them because they take over the jobs that I never want or did have when I was 16 and that is helping me live my life so I guess that I actually appreciate stupid people. But I do not appreciate having conversations with stupid people. It takes a lot for me to think you are stupid. I give at least 3 ditzy remarks per conversation before I conclude stupidity. If you are reading this blog, congrats! You're not stupid. I believe that only my friends read this blog and I am only friends with nonstupids. I kind of think people that listen to country music are stupid. I have a few friends that listen to country music and are not stupid though. I think they just fall under the freakishly weird category of my friends. I really do not understand country. I feel like it is sweeping over our nation and it makes my stomach hurt. People will say, "Jamie, you used to like the Dixie Chicks." My response: I was in 5th grade! We are all stupid then! But apparently television has proved that we are not stupid when we are in fifth grade. In fact, apparently they are all smarter than us. Ugh, that show makes me mad too. I do not care if you can name all the Presidents or do long division or whatever they do on that stupid show. I just want to have a conversation without thinking you are so f*cking stupid in the back of my head.

That's all.

Eye Contact

I'm not into it. I'm too good at being creepy about it. I am not sure if all of the people I speak to realize that I am very weak in this area. I think they do. I think maybe I never understood the proper way to socialize. I hate looking people in the eye. Ew. I just do not want to. I am not good at it. I either never do or overdo. I just completely prefer looking down. Or at something sicker on your face.
Interviews are the worst. "Don't forget good eye contact!" they all tell me. So I think I just stare them down and they hire me because they fear my laser eyes. I think that is it. So maybe it is good that I do the eye contact thing too intensely. I will scare my way to the top.
Intense eye contact may work in the work world, but it does not however, produce boyfriends.

Ren & Stimpy

I like this show. I have liked it since I was a young child. My father would watch it with me. I recently just rewatched it. I still like it. The close up parts are interesting. It is pretty gross. I do not know why I liked it as a child. I liked it so much that I begged my parents for a Stimpy doll. Then one day, I went to Toys R Us and my parents said today was the big day where I could finally have my own Stimpy doll. I was so happy. I got to the aisle and there he was. So cute. But there were only a few Stimpys left and a million Rens were still on the racks. Poor Ren. Nobody wanted a Ren doll. I got the Ren doll out of pity. He farted when you squeezed his stomach.
Good choice.
I do not know why I was such a boy and liked things like that as a child. My sister and I would play 007 more than any boy would. My father only had two daughters so I think he sometimes just pretended we were sons. He srsly made me go outside and play catch with him. I told him I did not want to but he told me I had a good arm so I should. He wanted me to play softball but I said, "Sry, I am not a lesbian."

Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Dancing

I do not know how to dance. I dance a lot.
It bothers me when a man in a movie uses the excuse that he can't dance as the reason for not being able to slow dance with a girl. It just does not make sense. Slow dancing requires no skill.
Yet, I managed to f*ck it up when I first started the life of slow dancing. The first time I slow danced was when I was 12. I was at a holiday ball that my parents went to and I was the coat girl. As a 12 year old, I was the height of a giant. A boy that was in high school working for the catering service asked me to dance because he thought I was older.
I never slow danced before.
I put my arms on his hips because I had no idea where to place my hands.
I am still kind of embarrassed.
Freak dancing, however, requires great skill, particularly in the "booty" area.
Freak dancing is an amazing art form. It involves lots of grinding and the serious sexual facial expression. Without that face, its not a true freak dance. Freak dancing releases sexual frustration. You cannot freak dance and laugh though. That makes it unsexy. Freak dancing is all about being as sexy as a dancer as you can to let your special dance friend that you are real good.
I cannot freak dance properly. I think it is too funny to take seriously. How does one shove the a$$ into the pelvis of the other, shimmy shake to the floor with it, and grind back up without laughing? It's virtually impossible.
People that take freak dancing seriously are hornballs.
This new superman dance that people do is really odd. I am completely anti synchronized dances because it is just weird. I get really mad when the Cha Cha Slide, Macarena, or Electric Slide come on. No, I do not want to dance to it. People are obsessed with peer pressuring others to dance those dumb dances. Please stop. I really do not want to. That is the one thing I am dreading for weddings. I am coming to an age where I will be going to a lot of weddings. I am not dreading open bar. I am dreading open bar + synchronized dance songs because there is no telling where that could lead.