Elves

Let me first just say that this has become much more therapeutic than I had originally intended. Everyone should blog.

Allow me to also say, that it's become very not what I had imagined at all. Instead of a spewing list of negatives, I find myself wanting just to write about everything.

Scenario.

I'm sitting in church this morning, and the preacher says something that really gets me thinking.

I should blog about this. I think quietly to myself, if there is any other way to think.

But Kirsten, says that annoying voice in my head your blog is about things you don't like. remember? It then proceeds to do an annoying little dance as it sings "Na na na na na na!" repeatedly. It's a really annoying little voice.

Well, this post is about you, tiny dancing elf creature that crushes my dreams. This is MY blog and I'll do with it what I please. Thank you very much.

So. My story.

I'm currently attending Crossroads community church in Oakly. I really love it, and currently they're doing the Faithful series. It's about people in the bible who, despite every criticism, doubt or persecution, remained faithful to the God they believed to be faithful. Oh yeah, and they incorporate super heroes. Just when you thought church was boring.

So, needless to say, it's kind of epic, and I'm really really enjoying it.

Today Bryan Tome (woop woop) talked about Peter. I have always loved Peter, seriously. He might be one of the coolest dudes in the bible. He is by no means perfect, but he displays faith in everything that he does. He was a fisherman, which was the biblical equivalent to a plumber as far as station goes. He was probably crude, rough and lacked any sort of tack, but yet he's one of the men closest to Jesus. I think thats so incredibly cool.

So I have a lot of thoughts on Peter today.

Bryan told the story of Peter walking on the water today. And I kind of took it to a place that he didn't. He used it as an example that even the best of us loose our faith in the storms of life, but I saw it as a metaphor for a walk with God.

So here's how it goes down. Jesus is praying on a hill. His buddies are down on the lake in a boat. They're probably all jazzed to be on that boat, when all of a sudden this horrid storm starts up. Oh noes! We're on a boat and we're probably going to die. But wait! What's that. Is that some dude out on the water? Psh. No. That's crazy. It's probably some sea monster come to swallow us whole or a witch come to skin us alive. Lets cower in fear some more. But what they don't know is it's their pall Jesus. He's all "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." "What is this nonsense?" the disciples are probably thinking. People can't walk on water. That's against the laws of physics. But it's Jesus, and he invented water, so he can do whatever the heck he wants with it. *Does the Jesus is so cool dance*. So while all of his other friends are cowering in fear on the boat, Peter makes a huge choice. He's is going to get up off his butt and go to Jesus. Which is where the metaphoring begins. To follow Christ, you have to make a conscious choice to not be passive and go. No matter how crazy it may seem. So Peters walking on the water, going to his BFF Jesus when he stops, looks around and probably realizes that he's walking on freaking water in the middle of a pretty awful storm. He freezes, takes his focus off Jesus, and is distracted by all the scary crap around him. He begins to sink. This is where most people would consider Peter faithless, and albeit, Jesus does refer to him as "You of little faith" but I think the more important indicator of Peters character is seen just a few words down. He cries out for Jesus to save him. Even though he lost faith for a moment, he knows that Christ is right there and will save him. It's like us in our lives. We're on this completely amazing walk with God, totally focussed on him. It's not till we take our eyes off of the real goal, and look around all the awfulness that we lose faith. Now this isn't saying that we should ignore all the bad things in life. I'm pretty sure Peter wasn't completely delusional, thinking he's having a lovely stroll in the park. He probably knew that what he was doing was crazy. But he had his eyes on Jesus, and with that in his vision, everything else seemed so powerless. And just like Peter, when we start to panic over the things of this world, we do sink. We lose faith. But we should take a cue from Peter. He didn't really lose faith. He just forgot it for a moment. He cries out to Jesus to save him, and because He's Jesus, He did. And does for us.

Yes, that is how I tell bible stories. Get over it.

Believe it or not, that was not the main point I'm trying to make in this post. I'm just incredibly long winded.

What really stuck with me was the story of catching all the fish. Here's the condensed version.

Jesus: Hey Peter, lets go see if we can catch any fish.

Peter: Uh, Jesus, I'm kind of a really good fisher, and I was out all night and hardly caught anything, so I don't think we're going to have much luck this time... But I guess if you say so.

Jesus: Awesome.

They go out onto the lake, catch a butt load of fish. They can't even bring it in by themselves. Once they get to shore Peter kneels down and says: Get away from me, I am a sinful man. I'm not worthy.

This really never stuck with me until this morning. Bryan was talking about how a lot of people were probably there. Peter could have easily taken all the glory for himself and just kept quiet. Instead he realizes that Jesus is a holy man, because as a fisherman he recognizes what he just witnessed as a miracle.
This got me thinking. How many times do I give God the glory in my life. Recently a lot of crappy things have happened to me, and upon reflection, I realize that I have no problem giving God the credit there.

"Yeah, everything is rough, but God has a plan, and this is happening for a reason."

How many times have we used that generic line. God has a plan. I'm not discrediting the thought, because it's totally true. If this year has taught me anything it's that God works all things for good for those who love Him. But I honestly can't remember the last time I gave Him credit for a blessing thats been accomplished through me. I really want that to change. So I challenge the two of you who actually read this, along with myself, to be like Peter, and aggressively peruse God, and give Him His glory. Because I'm pretty sure He likes that.

That one Verizon commercial

“Air has no prejudice, it does not carry the opinions of a man faster than those of a woman, it does not filter out an idea, because I’m 16 not 30, Air is unaware if I’m black or white, and wouldn’t care if it knew.

So it stands to reason, my ideas will be powerful, if they are wise, infectious, if they are worthy, and if my thoughts have flawless delivery, I can lead the army that will follow.“

Anyone recognize this? It's the script for a recent Verizon commercial.

Now the words are all well and good. An over all message of inspiration. That's really what air should be. It's the beauty of the free press, and more recently the domain of the internet and digital media. Anyone can say anything they want without restriction. Represent.

However I do have a major beef with this commercial. I remember the first time I saw it I couldn't quite figure out what bothered me about it. The delivery is contrived, but that's not it. The music makes me feel like I'm being brainwashed, but that's not it either. It wasn't until I saw it a second time that I realized the glaring issue in it.

While the commercial speaks of diversity, the idea being the most important idea. It states that age and physical appearance are not important. And while it doesn't come right out and say it, the over all thesis of the TEXT is that diversity of community and ideas allows for an awesome world. Thumbs up for that.

But the actual commercial says something entirely different. While it speaks to medley of the human race, the entire commercial is filled, stuffed to the brim with beautiful young women, all under the age of 20. And I shouldn't have to explain why this is a problem.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8C8MlhGNV3c

It's 100% contradictory to the script. And it really bugs me.

And besides the fact that it's one huge digital contradiction, the reasons behind the contradiction reeeeeeaaally gets me. Our culture worships youth. Go on, I dare you to try and disprove that statement. Youth and beauty are so valued today that we go to surgical lengths to preserve them. I have a theory about it. The further away we get, as a culture, from God, the more we cling to these things. Because, there is a part of us, no matter how much a person denies the existence of any kind of god, that knows that we can't do it on our own. This goes beyond physical appearance and seeps in to the realm of safety. Cars, continuously grow safer as the years progress. I once heard of a family moving because their first child was beginning to walk and they feared that their wood floors would prove harmful if he fell. Without God we fear death. And by extension growing old.

Side note. (As if that wasn't one already) I love the movie Up for the very reason. In our world that idolizes ages 15-37, Pixar created a movie that depicts adventure and life beyond that, and personifies it in the Carl and Russell.

And this is where I was going to have the movie poster, but apparently I'm retarded and can't figure out how to get it where I want it. Awesome.

Wow. TANGENT!

But anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah, worshiping youth and beauty.

Seriously. I can't be the only one who noticed this glaring issue. Did no one at Verizon say "Hey guys, maybe we should have some dudes in this commercial. Or, I don't know, someone over the age of 17. Because it makes no sense right now."

Oh you silly Verizon marketing employee. We have a vision here. Don't mess with the totally screwed up vision.

Sleeping in Water

A few weeks ago, my best friend of ten years and I birthed a genius idea. And, like most great ideas, it was conceived in a body of water.

Ladies and Gentlemen, with out any further ado ...

Sleeping in water.

Now, I know that it's the name of the post, so it's really not the grand reveal I had hoped for, but let's look past that technical error and focus on the awesome.

Think about. Have you ever done the dead mans float that we were all so ill advised toward as children. You know, when you float, back up in water. Try it kids. It'll terrify your parents.

But, if you understand my point of reference, you know how incredibly comfortable it is.

Now I know there are some issues to work out, like the whole problem of getting oxygen to your blood stream, but we worked around that. Emily and I ultimately came up with a comfortable face mask that will have access through a tube to an outside oxygen source. A little complex, but you don't revolutionize an entire way of life without making some crazy choices.

Because that is what this is. It's a revolution. Seriously, if you really think about it it would change your lifestyle. In theory, you'd have more energy, more focus, and world peace would finally be obtainable.*

*None of these theories can be proven scientifically.

So basically we planned that there would be a sleeping chamber in a bed room. You know how in scifi movies where the evil scientist has his experiment floating in a glorified fish tank. Yeah, it's like that but without the whole creepy part.

It was a really solid idea. I was already working up the prototype.

But then, as it would turn out, my plan was, once again, foiled.

There were a lot of commas in that last sentence. I'm not entirely sure if it's grammatically correct.

BUT! Back to all my ideas being awful.

Upon taking a dip in my hot tub with my sisters and local recluse, (And by local recluse I mean neighbor kid. It's funny if you know Eben. I promise) my hands became so incredibly pruned beyond all recognition, that it was painful.

I got out of the water and my hands were suddenly on fire. I didn't know that such pain could come from something so incredibly inoffensive. My hands have never been pruned this bad. Like, I got out 45 minutes ago and they're still stinging.

I'm not particularly scientifically minded, but I'm pretty sure that your skin shouldn't be exposed to water for an extended amount of time.

Has anyone else ever had this problem? Like it feels like your skin is going to fall off. Or maybe that tiny holes are being burrowed by tiny demon bugs and being spat on by a camel. It's not terribly pleasant.

And, with a soul searing pain, of both heart and hand, I threw away my dream of revolutionizing the way the world sleeps.

Rest in peace little idea. You never really had the chance to grow and spread your wings. You will be missed.

Miley Cyrus

This really shouldn't come as a shock to anyone. I harbor a deep sense of apathy-hatred toward most celebrities. I see no point in feeding their fire of insanity and fame. With the exception of Lady Gaga, Zefron and the cast of the Harry Potter movies, every famous person could stop functioning as a celebrity and my world would keep on turning. (A world that’s full of happiness, that I have never knooooooown.). On that note, (Pun intended) because of my aversion to most things Disney Channel, I have tried like mad to avoid seeing or hearing anything of Nick Jonas in Les Mis on the West End. So you can imagine my mixed feelings of violent sickness and admiration when I saw this video of him kicking A Little Fall of Rains ass.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbcHoU7J8IQ&feature=related

But I digress.

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Miley Cyrus might be my all time, least favorite person on this planet. Granted, I don’t know her, and maybe she’s a super nice person, but the chances of that actually being true are extremely small. Hannah Montana literally makes me want to tear my eyes out of my face in a fit of blind rage. Her acting is so incredibly appalling and her voice so unbearably unpleasant, that I am thoroughly convinced that if the show were to never exist; the earth would surely be a better place. The world would know peace, all wars would come to an end, puppies and butterflies would frolic and fly as their respective hearts desired in fields of cotton candy and streams of raspberry lemonade. So needless to say, I avoid anything remotely pertaining to her.

Now, If you know me, you know that I enjoy reading. I've recently rekindled my love of reading, and currently devour any book placed in front of me. I've really only avoided the romance. I tried my hand a Nicholas Sparks but I never really got into it.

Sorry, this is super all over the place, but there's a lot of points that I feel must be made.

Last point.

I have been writing two books for two years now. Right now, I'm super lazy with it, but the stories are constantly going on in my head. One is a trilogy about the aftermath of the fall of America and the vigilantes who try to regain justice in the corrupt empire. It's pretty boss if I do say so myself. The other is more of a chick lit kind of thing. But like chick lit for girls with brains. I'm in love with it. The story is kind of all over the place right now, but the characters are so dear to me. My only real motivation to finish these stories is so other people can know my imaginary friends.

Ronnie is the coolest. She's smart and funny and sarcastic and awkward and getting into her head is awesome.

SO! Not having read the Nicholas Sparks book The Last Song and having a violent dislike for Miley Cyrus, you can imagine my horror when my sister brought home the DVD and the back read that the main characters name is Ronnie...

SERIOUSLY?!

This totally awesome person, who I someday hope to get published will forever be associated with Miley Freaking Cyrus!

I cannot change Ronnie's name. It doesn't work like that. Her name is Ronnie. Her name has been Ronnie fr 17 years. I have zero control over the characters and the things that happen to them. It sounds super stupid and artsy, but thats how it rolls. I'm just the vessel for the story.

You can imagine my disgust when I found this out. I ran from the room in a dramatic flourish to drown my sorrows in a 2 liter of Dr. Pepper.

Secret Life

I haven’t posted in over a week, I feel like a failure of a blogger. So to the 6 people who actually read this, my apologies. But on the bright side, I am currently typing on a macbook with a picture of Rupert Grint and Daniel Radcliffe as the background. So much awesomeness cannot be contained.

But yet somehow it is. Thanks Apple.

But back to me failing at this blog.

I guess I haven’t been feeling all that bitter towards life as of late, which is a good thing for me, bad thing for the life of my internet fame. And by fame, I mean... well nothing.

But something set me off tonight. It was like a complaining beast was awakened inside of me, ready to pounce on the internet and any unsuspecting virtual passers by.

I watched and episode of Secret Life... of the American Teenager. Yeah, I know.

First let me just say, even though this show is slated as one of the top “Guilty Pleasures” I don’t see it as such. It is neither guilty, nor a pleasure. If it were guilty I would not be telling you, the internet, about it. If it were a pleasure I might have to blow my brains out. My desire to watch Secret Life is born purely out of a not-so-secret desire to host The Soup should Joel McHale ever decide to run away with me and ask me to take his job while he stays at home and has my babies.

This show is almost painful to watch. Almost, as in if almost meant completely and wholly. I cannot begin to describe to you how much awkwardness this show brings to my life.

It is the most poorly conceived, poorly executed, poorly produced, poorly acted and poorly written show on television. Ever.

I have a hard time understanding how a person can approve sending one of those episodes out for public consumption.

This past episode, for example, made less sense than anything I’ve ever witnessed.

The writers of this show seem to have a crush on the super long, super awkward, completely unrealistic phone conversation. There’s at least one in every episode. It usually involves Amy, Ricky, Ben or Adrienne and they usually center around the repeating of poorly constructed sentences, attempts to remind the apparently mentally challenged audience of the stagnant plot line and conversation far beyond the maturity level of 16 year olds. These conversations can last up to 2 minutes, which in T.V. phone time is basically an eternity. And when you fill that with awkwardness and repetition you end up with this.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/169794/the-secret-life-of-the-american-teenager-adrian-and-amys-phone-call

Also, if you notice from this clip, they look so perfectly groomed at any moment. It’s completely ridiculous. Like, cut to a scene of Amy and Ashley studying/talking about masturbation and lo and behold their hair is cascading about their shoulders like they’re in a Dove commercial. Their faces get more and more made up as the episodes progress, making their marginally unattractive cast, more unattractive. The fact that they’re on a still set isn’t even attempted to be covered up. They basically all live in IKEA. (Which I wouldn’t mind all that much, as long as these horny creeps weren’t involved.)

But here’s my main beef with the show. The sex. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 18 and I’m not dead so yeah, I think about sex. But for the love of all that is good an holy, is that seriously all the older generation thinks we talk about? Because obviously, the writers of this show seem to think that my generation has no control over our raging hormones and mad passions. Because the only conversations these people have are about sex. If you haven’t seen the show you think I’m elaborating for comedic effect. For those of you who have, please teach them. I kid you not, all they ever think about is getting into each others pants. You’d think that after two of the characters get pregnant, maybe they’d realize that you maybe shouldn't have sex till you’re ready to deal with that responsibility, but no. They still jump into bed with random brunettes. Way to be guys.

Hey, let’s talk about having sex at med camp (way to be creative writers) this summer while my parents are in the next room. Hey, let’s make out, but you should take your shirt off first. (Seriously? Seriously.)

Besides the fact that all they talk about is the freak nasty, and the writing is beyond awful, (I’m serious, like on a scale of 1-Twilight, this beats Breaking Dawn) the plot is SO SLOW. They have one plot point this season, and it’s Adrianne’s pregnancy. 3 episodes where she’s finding out that she’s pregnant. 3 episodes where she’s planning on getting an abortion. A last minute decision to keep the baby and then a whole bunch of episodes where people talk and are jealous and make out and have really long, boring, pointless conversations, in which they repeat themselves.

Shoot me.

I'm having a really hard time coming up with a title that's not too descriptive.

My life has been kind of sucky lately. Not like the love of my life died in a tragic hair dryer factory explosion kind of sucky, but it’s not been peachy.

I’ve been in a dark place as of late. For months it just seemed like nothing was going my way. *Worlds tiniest violin, playing just for you*.

But last month, the universe threw me a bone. Because God loves me, a routine surf through the channels turned into me realizing that Buffy The Vampire Slayer was airing from the pilot on Logo.

*The heaves open up, angelic music plays*

THANK YOU GOD!

I’d never seen it, but my favorite teacher/cool adult is a huge fan of it, and I am a fangirl to all things nerdy. It was on my things-to-do list. It was fate.

It’s been the only thing getting me through the particularly bad days at work. Question: have you ever tried to make an indignant 5 year old do addition? It’s not really fun.

Thank you, Buffy. Your ass kicking, smart mouth shenanigans brighten my dark days. Thank God for Joss Wedon. My love affair with Buffy is one for the ages.

But do you know what I hate? I hate, with an undying passion, when I come home, after staying unexpectedly late at work, and there is no new Buffy on the DVR.

WHY?! I understand nothing. Someone in my house has unrecorded the series. I physically cannot comprehend what kind of person does that sort of thing. Who unrecords Buffy?

When I come home at the end of a long day, I want my dinner on the table, and the kids presentable.

But in all seriousness…

And it would be another thing if it were a show like Medium, or Greys Anatomy (Also favorites) and the shows were only loosely connected to each other, but Buffy is an episodic metanarrative. You miss an episode, you’re out of it. Sorry buddy, good luck trying to figure out what the hell is going on next episode.

The good news is that, because God loves me, Logo airs each episode twice. So at 11 I got to watch it, but still.

You’re exhausted, you’re emotionally drained and all you want to do is watch a good dusting. I cannot be alone.

Ice

One of my least favorite things of all time is ice. I know it sounds weird, but there it is.

I’d like to talk to the guy who invented ice.

Now, I’m aware that it’s God, and upon further thought I realized that if I were God and I invented ice, I’d be pretty pissed if someone had as much distain for it as I do. Seriously, I’d be like, “Dude, I just created ICE! I made a solid form of Hydrogen and Oxygen. That’s freaking awesome man!” But as it stands, I really really don’t like ice.

It’s cold, and it hurts my teeth. The sound of ice against ice is like nails down a chalk board for me. I don’t remember when this all started, but I can clearly recall my first memory of ice.

It was at a large family gathering at my grandparents and in all the hustle and bustle of preparing for a meal, an 8 year can get lost in the shuffle.

Just kidding, I was forced to do boring and largely unnecessary tasks. Oh family.

My task, this particular day, was retrieving ice from the basement freezer. And while it doesn’t sound that bad, I somehow knew that I, deep down in my soul, hated ice with a fervent passion.

It’s not a normal thing, I know, but the sound of ice rubbing against ice makes me want to pull out my own hair. This simple task of retrieving ice became one of the most frustrating and awful experiences of my childhood.

That sounds pathetic, but there it is.

I also hate the function of ice. Whoever thought it’d be a good idea to put ice in a drink that is not water needs to have something uncomfortable happen to them.

I don’t understand why it’s a good idea to put a cube of solid, slowly melting water into a glass of, lets say, grape soda. Soon you end up with less grape soda, and more of a disgusting watered down flat purple drink. Is it really that hard to chill a 2 liter?

Or we could go with my idea. And I intend this purely for hydration purposes. We freeze the particular drink we are going to later consume, and use those cubes to chill our drink. Then when it melts into the room temperature beverage, it doesn’t taste like it’s for a 5 year old with ADD.

But there’s still the problem of the sensation against your teeth.

*shudders*

Children

Ok, that is a complete lie. I adore children. Their innocence and honesty are completely endearing and precious to my soul. I can’t wait to be a mom. (I know that sounds incredibly homeshcool-y, but there it is.)

This however was not always the case.

In case you cannot tell/do not know me, I’m not a particularly bubbly person. I laugh at inappropriate times, I’m awkward around people I don’t like and up until last summer I hated children.

It was a thing. Like, I was Kirsten, that girl who hates kids. It’s been a very difficult thing to break that façade.

Basically what happened is I went to Mexico and spent a week with the most beautiful wonderful orphans ever. And I know this is going to sound like everybody and their brothers mission trip to a third world country story, but it changed me, in more ways than one.

But one of the ways is that I love kids now. Bratty 10 year olds? They amuse me. New borns? If I could hold a new born baby every day I would be a happy person. Toddlers? I eat them up.

As a result of my new found love for children I have recently taken a Nannying job the cutest 5 and 9 year olds on the planet. The 9 year old is a Ravenclaw, enjoys Phineas and Ferb and taught me how to make friendship bracelets. The 5 year old is a Slytherin, has an obsession with playing the game “hot and cold” and is a perpetual pain in my ass. I love them to death.

“Now Kirsten,” you might be thinking, “Isn’t this blog called Stuff Kirsten Doesn’t Like? I don’t see a whole lot of dislike going on here.”

And I’m getting to that.

Remember that innocence and honesty I mentioned earlier? Yeah…

As much as I love kids, they can be extremely annoying. Don’t get me wrong, I am no longer bitter angry Kirsten who hates the laughter of children, but sometimes…

Today, I prepared lobster pasta for the girls’ lunch. It is exactly what it sounds like. Pasta in the shape of lobsters. It’s awesome. I ate mine with spaghetti sauce (or red sauce as the girls call it. They’re dolls). All was well.

About 20 minutes later I was doing summer homework with the 5 year old when she turns to me and says “You’ve got something red around your mouth.”

Naturally I assume it’s the red sauce from the awesome lobster pasta. I look past the fact that I’m not 3 and don’t spill things on my face when I eat anymore and head to the bathroom to check it out.

IT’S A PIMPLE!

Good God. I hate my life!

It’s a disgusting, not yet ready to be popped pimple placed directly above my mouth. I add proactiv to my must buy list.

I regain my composure and walk back to my charge.

“It’s still there.” She says.

I resist the urge to grip her by the shoulders in a fit of blind rage.

Yeah, I know it’s still there! Of course it’s still there. Where would it go? Since I overslept and rushed to take you to your swim lessons, and had no time to put any effort into my appearance, yes still there.

“It’s ok, it’s just a pimple.” I say, trying to maintain my Marry Poppins façade. “It’s an awful thing that’ll happen to you when you become a teenager too.”

She looks at me, stone cold, and says “Well I’m Indian, we don’t get pimples.”

What on Gods green earth? What am I supposed to say to that? I’m glad you’ll face a life of beauty and perfect skin? Not to mention she’s five, so I can’t really say anything.

Is that true, do Indian people not get acne? That sounds either 100% true or complete and utter BS.

I resist the urge to shout out my favorite antidote for curing my self esteem issues when I remember that I have acne. “Yeah, well I won’t get wrinkly when I’m old. I have perfect aging genes.”

Yeah, that would have gone over nicely with the five year old.

It’s times like these when I revert back to my old nature of hating children.

It’s a pretty well known fact that kids are painfully honest. It’s also a pretty well known fact that kids are awesome liars. This is what I’ve deduced of those two conflicting, but equally true facts. Kids lie like hell when it favors them. When they can get their own way, or free ice cream, they’ll lie, and they lie hard. However, when the truth is embarrassing and awkward to people around them, they seem to lack the ability to say anything but the painful honest facts.

And I forgot why I hated kids to begin with.

Ke$ha

I went through a phase in 10^th and some of 11^th grade, where I had a superiority complex. I know right, a 16 year old who thinks they’re better than everyone else, unheard of. I didn’t interact with people, I rolled my eyes a lot and, this might be the most important thing, I didn’t listen to the radio.

“Oh, I’m infinitely cooler than everyone else around me. I refuse to conform to your standards Q102, let me just pop in my iPod head phones to my lap top as I listen to something you’ve probably never heard of on youtube.” I was so much fun to be around.

Not going to lie, not too much has changed. I mean, the over all attitude is a complete 180 but I still don’t interact with people and I remain to this day a huge fan of eye rolling.

But the radio. Oh the radio.

I’m such a radio whore. Past me would be disappointed. Let me just say that I party hard to just about every song that Kiss 101.7 dishes out. Not that big a fan of OMG or Cooler Than Me, but If I Had You just might be the greatest song of all time. I would be lying if I said that all the music was quality, because it so isn’t, but that doesn’t stop me from liking it. I’ll listen to pretty much anything, and while I can’t help but feeling like they’re preparing me for some kind of mass brainwashing, I enjoy every moment of it.

But I draw the line at Ke$ha. Or Key-dollarsign-HA! As some (*cough*MichaelBuckley*cough*) like to call her. The moment I heard Tik Tok, was the moment I understood nothing. It was the day the music died. It was the day that I lost hope in not only humanity, but myself.

Because as much as 15 year old Kirsten was banging on the walls of the Super Ego, and as much as I knew it was complete and total crap, *dramatic pause* I liked it.

I’m not entirely sure what separates this song from the other crap they like to pump out, but I have some ideas.

It might be the demographic to which it appealed. I’m pretty sure when it got big there was a group of people, of whom I was not particularly fond, who had it as their status every other day.

It might be the complete and utter lack of a point. So we’re partying? Ok, awesome. You could have just said that instead of wasting 3 minutes and 35 seconds of my life.

And it might just be Key-dollarsign-HA! herself. I’ll discuss that later on in the post.

That was my brain talking. But all my body could say was *moves to funky groves*. (It’s a little difficult for my body to speak. “Haven’t you heard the word of your body?” *Tangent*).

It was just a really unfortunate position for me. Like, I really feel like if I met Key-dollarsign-HA! in a social situation I wouldn’t like her too much. She looks like she probably doesn’t bathe, and might be a little bit of a whore. I’ve also heard that she’s super smart or something. She got like a perfect SAT and got into Columbia. But the vacant look behind her eyes gives me the impression that she wouldn’t be that interesting to talk to.

But her music is so catchy. I feel bad.

The newish song “Take it Off” is awful, crude and uses a pre-existing tune, I cannot help myself from doing my car dance whenever it comes on.

Curse you Ke$ha and your sick, dirty, catchy beats.

I need to go listen to some Lady Gaga just to get this stench off of me.