Probably the Scariest Thing I Can Think Of

I have never driven in Spokane. Not even one time. Not once. But when I am in Portland, I drive. Sometimes/most of the time, I drive at night. In the dark. In my parent's Honda Civic, which I park in all sorts of places around Portland. All. Sorts.

I have an unfounded fear that there will be a man hiding in the backseat of my car when I come back for it, and that I will get in and start to drive without noticing that he is there. And then, when I am on a dark roadway in the late hours of the night, he will slowly sit up, and I will look in my rearview mirror and see his face.

That's as far as I have thought.

Have you ever seen the movie "Rocketman?" I haven't seen it for about ten years, but as far as I can remember, it goes like this: A wee young boy wants to be in an astronaut. He then grows up to look just like the Bass Player from "That Thing You Do," and he becomes the stupidest astronaut ever, and he goes to the moon and does silly things and falls in love with the hot-lady astronaut, and I think there is a monkey in the story somewhere.

This movie contains one of the best exchanges ever, and here it is:


Dumb Main Character Astronaut: Were you ever afraid that there was a baker under your bed?

Smart Supporting Character Astronaut: No.

Dumb Main Character Astronaut: Well did you ever check?

Smart Supporting Character Astronaut: No.

Dumb Main Character Astronaut: Then how do you know there wasn't a baker under you bed?



Wise words, Dumb Main Character Astronaut, wise words.


I always check for the baker under my bed.


And by "baker," I mean "hiding-psychopathic killer."

And by "under my bed," I mean "in the back seat of the Honda Civic."

This Cat Like Vegetables And You Should Too

When I graduate, I am going to start a new blog that will be called, "Vegetables For People Who Don't Like Vegetables." And I'm going to buy weird vegetables from our neighborhood co-op and make them into delicious, nutritious dishes and then take pictures of them!

Woop!

So that will be fun. I also plan to consume an entire bag of baby carrots every week.

Starting next week.

For realz.

The Bubble

There is a girl sitting way to close to me at the bar in the campus coffee shop. There is NO REASON for her to be sitting this close to me. There is plenty of space. Move over, slightly sweaty, loud girl! This space is mine. Why else would I have spread out over at least two stools worth of counter? It's a hint that I DON'T WANT YOU SITTING THERE.

I want that space so that I don't have to worry about you reading over my shoulder while I write this blog post about you.

Please stop bumping me with your elbow every five minutes and not noticing.

Please stop laughing maniacally with your three other girl and boyfriends.

Please take off your sweaty windbreaker so that it will stop cracking when you move.

Please hang your backpack on the back of the chair.


This sounds means. That's why I am writing it down instead of telling here. Because sometimes I just need to be bitchy and mean about tiny, unimportant things...

But this bubble is mine, and I don't want your presence in it.

S.A.D.

This week, I have seasonal affect disoder. That spells sad! Coincidence? I don't think so.

And now, pictures.