tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76621571032625704012024-03-05T08:27:39.678-06:00This one thing...Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-64534889728594471512011-11-11T06:08:00.000-06:002011-11-11T06:08:13.417-06:00UpdateWell hello! You must still be subscribed to my long dormant blog! How cute. How's life? Good? Good.<br />
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I'm just popping in to say that I have a new address for my blog, though the name remains the same as I'm quite partial to it. You can visit it <a href="http://krlue.wordpress.com/">here!</a> Please do. We're having a good time.<br />
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I mean "We" in the royal sense, naturally.<br />
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Hugs!<br />
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KlueKluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-18257901464756938512010-01-26T15:33:00.000-06:002010-01-26T15:33:47.552-06:00The FreezeThere is no adjective for the weather. Descriptions of the cold only do so much, and you know that a number does not, and cannot, prepare anyone for stepping outside and getting punched in the gut. Your jeans become rigid, like cardboard. They scrape against your shins. Your scarf is useless and after only a few moments outside you realize that you, with your red nose and chapped lips, are beginning to look like a penguin.<br />
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Walking is for sissies. Walkers trip on the banks and slip and fall in parking lots. You jog past and laugh at their ginger steps. Trotting victoriously past a group of walkers, you smile because you know that you will get to the bus stop at exactly the right time, greet the bus driver and take a seat. The walkers will wait in the cold. Your jeans will thaw; theirs will turn to plywood.<br />
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Remember in November, when the air had just started to smell like snow? Now it smells of wind and numbness and you're longing for November again. Not July, you are not that foolish. November. All you can think about is the fleece jacket bliss that is November.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-10131588977173060262009-10-16T20:48:00.005-05:002009-10-16T21:06:49.216-05:00Pump Up the VolumeSeriously, do it. You will want to hear this.<br />
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Welcome to the world of Viva and Jerry's Country Music Videos.<br />
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I think it's best to jump in. It's really only necessary to watch the first few minutes of this. Yoda is involved in this one, so naturally you will never. Be. The. Same. Again.<br />
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<embed src="http://blip.tv/play/qGTz_hGJ_Ts%2Em4v" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="504" height="306" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed> <br />
<br />
Yeah. That has been on TV.<br />
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I stumbled upon Viva and Jerry earlier tonight while they were doing what I *think* they refer to as the comedy portion. At the end of each show (at least of the ones that I've found) V&J stand behind a table with lots of random products and tell you how great! They? Are!<br />
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It's always a little awkward, usually they don't really know how half the stuff works, but it is (perhaps unintentionally) consistently hilarious. The one I saw LIVE (not really) was all about Halloween. I twittered (because OF COURSE I did) that I was pretty sure Viva thought a bowl that has one of those hands that clamps down and makes noise was powered by magic.<br />
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And I stand by that tweet.<br />
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My favorite quote so far comes at the very beginning of <a href="http://blip.tv/file/2343857">this episode</a>, when Viva makes one of the most entertaining reading mistakes I've heard in a loooooong time.<br />
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Thus sayeth Viva:<br />
"This fabulous piece of work...art."<br />
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Oh Viva, you card.<br />
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I know I'm kind of making fun of V&J, but to be honest, I think their show is great. Because, well, why SHOULDN'T an old dude dress up like Yoda for no other reason than for laughs? Why shouldn't the staff mess with the green screen all the time? When aren't sexual innuendos by old people funny? (Aside from whenever it's your own grandparents, of course)<br />
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It's fun and silly and it reminds me of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMweXVWB918">a vlogbrothers' video</a>, that reminds us that it's AWESOME to marvel and be excited at the miracle of other people's creativity. While making fun of people for feeling this way is easy and accepted by just about everyone, because they have this very belief, it doesn't change the awesomeness or the excitement.<br />
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So never stop making videos, V&J. I'll definitely be watching.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-43756748479676970172009-10-08T13:01:00.001-05:002009-10-08T13:01:52.074-05:00The First Big Number In a week I'll turn 21. This, even to me, seems crazy.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The whole idea of it makes me feel</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>like I'm coming down with something,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>something worse than any stomach ache</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--</i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a kind of mumps of the psyche,</i></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.</i></span> <br />
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I can't help but think that on that Thursday, a normal day to most everyone on earth, will be the day I am actually an adult. Logically, of course, this is completely ridiculous.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>You tell me it is too early to be looking back,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>but that is because you have forgotten</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>the perfect simplicity of being one</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>At four I was an Arabian wizard.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I could make myself invisible </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.</i></span><br />
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In nearly every way, I'm already and adult. I'm in college and living on my own. I pay rent and buy groceries. Still, there's this feeling that this year, when that digit finally spins all the way around from 0 to 1, I will suddenly feel adult.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>But now I am mostly at the window</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>watching the lat afternoon light.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Back then it never fell so solemnly</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>against the side of my tree house, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>and my bicycle never leaned against the garage</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>as it does today, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>all the dark blue speed drained out of it.</i></span><br />
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Will my heart suddenly break more for others? Should I take on more responsibility? Will I be held more accountable for my actions and for my impact as a citizen of the world?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>time to turn the first big number.</i></span><br />
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Maybe this is something everyone feels, or maybe it's unique to me, but I can't shake this feeling. On your birthday everyone always asks if you feel different. In the past my answer has been no. This time, it feels like life as I know it will be different in 7 short days.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>It seems only yesterday I used to believe</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>there was nothing under my skin but light.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>If you cut me I could shine.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I skin my knees. I bleed.</i></span><br />
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Poem: On Turning Ten by Billy CollinsKluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-83380854671795123352009-09-29T11:48:00.000-05:002009-09-29T11:48:51.774-05:00Ready to be surprised? Too bad.Last weekend I went to see <a href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/i_hope_they_serve_beer_in_hell/">I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell</a>.<br />
<br />
Let's let that sink in for a moment.<br />
<br />
Okay, so I went to a bro movie. What can you do? I was invited, thought it would be a fun, completely ridiculous movie (SPOILER ALERT! It was.) and more importantly, I would be able to laugh at all the stupid people there.<br />
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And in a crowd like the one there that night, it was soooooo easy to do (my row of friends and acquaintances excluded, OF COURSE). I mean, never before have I seen flask use so prevalent in movie theater before. I guess it's possible that last January when I saw The Reader that the guy sitting behind me had some Jack in his coffee, but it was at least a bit less obvious.<br />
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Though one time someone was smoking in a movie theater. I don't even remember the movie, THAT'S how annoying it was.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the movie was what you'd expect. Sort of raunchy, all kinds of offensive and mostly a waste of time and money. The only thing I enjoyed about the movie was one of the main character's friends played by <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0103038/">Jesse Bradford</a>*. He was pretty funny, self depricating and really the only bright spot. Given the movie he was in, however, a "bright spot" really is more like a dusty reflection off a 2-year-old Mountain Dew can on the wall of your parents' basement. Sorry Jesse. Let's work better on our script selection next time, yes?<br />
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One of the mantras of the movie is What would Tucker Max do? (Tucker Max, for those of you still playing along at home is the main character played by <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0194516/">this guy</a>, who played a completely different douchenozzle on Gilmore Girls a few years ago). Throughout the movie, the answer to this question is usually something along the lines of "have sex with that hot girl over there" though at some point in this morphs to the completely unpredictable** "lose all your friends," then "get really wasted and get poisoned by some less hot girls" and finally "have an epiphany and save the day!"<br />
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I don't really know what the point of making this movie was. Maybe it was a chance to make all the sex jokes that were rejected from recent Judd Apatow movies. Possibly someone was just bored and wanted to test the limits of stupidity allowed, or at least tolerated, by society. A more likely answer is that all the dudes in suits at the studio wanted a different kind of sexist movie on the market. Who knows?<br />
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I happen to think that what Tucker Max would do is not make a lame movie. But then again, I've been wrong before.<br />
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*Full Disclosure: I may only have liked Jesse Bradford's character because Mr.Bradford had a guest arc on The West Wing a couple years ago. This forgives all career missteps, people.<br />
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** Jokes!Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-47176552836916655272009-09-06T23:50:00.003-05:002009-09-06T23:52:06.811-05:00Food Poisoning? Dehydration? Karma?? The choice is YOURS!!<div>I meant to publish this blog post looong ago, but didn't. (See FAILURE in dictionary, and OH LOOK, my picture!) Anyway, here's the whole messy story a little bit late, and a lot more edited.</div><div></div><div></div>Sometimes vomiting is a great solution to your problems.<br />
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If, for example, you need to get out of going to an event or gathering you could say you're not feeling well, or that you had vomited earlier in the day and wouldn't want to spread whatever you have and then be all "Aw shucks, sickness! No awkward social situations for me until next year!"<br />
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Or! If you find you're using the "Oh, I need to wash my hair" line a bit too much (though, does anyone actually do that? Does it actually work??), you could switch it up with "I have to..." and scurry toward the bathroom.<br />
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Vomiting solves many a problem, is what I'm saying. Other times, however, it just sucks. Though I suppose "blows" might be more accurate. <br />
<div><br />
In June my sister got married. I was very excited about this. I bought a kick ass dress, awesome shoes, got a haircut and flew to Virginia. I arrived and made plans with people to go into DC and play cards in the lobby and go to breakfast.<br />
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Then Friday came. And I got sick. The first time I threw up (should I have mentioned at the beginning that queasy people should not read this? Oops. Sorry about that.) it was at the beginning of a tour of a Civil War battlefield. </div><div></div><div>Yeah. We're THAT kind of family.</div><div></div><div><br />
Anyway, suddenly I felt nauseated and ran inside to the bathroom. Enter the first happening of what shall henceforth be known as The Deed. Then, I felt...fine.<br />
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Like an idiot, I reasoned that this was as bad as it would be. I thought that I must have been dehydrated and over tired from my flight or the previous day of EPIC sightseeing.<br />
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So I went about my day, feeling just fine until an hour after lunch when The Deed happened again. I pretty much made it to the bathroom this time. Thanks garbage can! About 15 minutes later, oh Hi Deed, back again I see!<br />
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Oh, and did I mention, Deed 2.0 and 3.0 were in public? And more specifically, at a nail salon?<br />
<br />
Well, they were.<br />
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After that, aside from royally embarrassed FOREVER, I was pretty much spent. The rest of the day I was in bed nursing a fever and some gatorade (one guess as to how THAT went). Amazingly, I was sort of okay the next day and was at the wedding and reception, THANK GOD. I lived on cheerios, the aforementioned gatorade and hope for the next 2 days. Heart healthy like you wouldn't believe. But that's another story entirely.<br />
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I feel like I should have learned something from this. Like maybe there should be background music and a Very Important Lesson to be learned and discussed, just like on Full House when Michelle learns the value of sharing or the atrocity of theft or whatever crap Danny is slinging her way. I mean really, we all know stealing is the only way to get yours.<br />
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Anyway, not to be a bad capitalist, but I just don't see it. People get sick, life happens (and clichés abound, apparently). All I can to is remember the good things, laugh off everything else and toast to the happy couple.</div><div></div>Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-72993123081183870632009-05-29T10:22:00.005-05:002009-05-29T11:34:40.021-05:00Resume BuildingThere's a job opening I recently came across that is pretty exciting. I'm not sure if they're still taking applications, so who knows if I'll actually apply. It seems like it might be<span style="font-style: italic;"> just</span> out of my league, but if I want experience in the field I've gotta start somewhere, right?<br /><br />The perks? Job security like you wouldn't believe, decent pay, room for promotion (to an extent) and I can determine how committed and engaged I am day to day! They don't advertise much about benefits, but I have a feeling they'll be adequate.<br /><br />There are, of course plenty of cons to this particular job. Moving to Washington DC, wearing a lot of black, having LOTS of older co-workers. But, come to think of it, I could probably handle it.<br /><br />The weird thing is, there seems to be some competition for me ALREADY. I saw a commercial last night on TV about another candidate's back story, and though she's my competition, even I have to admit that it was pretty compelling. Needless to say I'm a little nervous she'll get the job before I even get a chance to - wait a second...<br /><br />Apparently, <a href="http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2009/05/27/gingrich-sotomayor-racist-should-withdraw-nomination/">she's a racist!</a> This is excellent news.<br /><br />I'm glad someone came forward and brought this to our attention. Can you imagine, a racist in a position of power, influencing their peers and social policy?! What would have become of us?<br /><br />Honestly, if not for a patriot utilizing his startling ability to only read one line of one speech and construe a meaning contrary to that very text, we, the American taxpayers would never have known The Truth!<br /><br />And let me just say for the record that I am not a racist, new or old. Or an opposite racist. Or a communist sympathizer, member of an anarchist group or of the democrat socialist party.<br /><br />Is it just me, or is that last thing grammatically incorrect? Well, if good grammar is fascist then I'll use ain't everyday at inappropriate times. 'Cause a fascist, I ain't.<br /><br />Oh, and did I mention my lack of racism? Because trust me, there is a huge lack of it.<br /><br /><br /><br />**UPDATE: It turns out, <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/05/28/ifill.sotomayor/index.html">she's not a racist</a>. I guess it's back to the classifieds for me.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-69793937538649811492009-05-14T09:42:00.003-05:002009-05-14T10:12:12.004-05:00Time for Vacation, or is it?This summer I'm going to have a lot of free time. A LOT. I don't have school, (unless I end up enrolling for a class, that is) I'm working about the same hours, maybe a bit more.<br /><br />Lately I've been thinking about what I'll do, and I've decided to make a list. Apparently I'm turning into my Mother. There isn't an actual, literal list (at least not yet) but I'll probably make one.<br /><br />My list is mostly composed of books I want to read, but there are also habits I want to form. Like getting up everyday when I'm awake instead of laying in bed for another 40 minutes. Think of all the time you throw away! Another one is writing something every day, even if it's a description of my day or a fake profile of someone, good writers write all the time. I plan to be one of them.<br /><br />When I started thinking about this summer, I happened to read this <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/01/opinion/01brooks.html">column</a> about talent and genius vs. effort. The truth is that it really doesn't matter how much "God given" talent someone has, because without effort and work ethic you don't make any progress. You could be given the perfect hands for playing the cello, for instance, but still get beaten out for prestigious jobs because there's someone who practices more. Despite not having the "gift" they come out on top because they want it and work to be the best.<br /><br />A week or so after I read this I got the New Yorker (Yeah, I'm one of <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> people and I like it) and read <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/11/090511fa_fact_gladwell">this article</a> by Malcolm Gladwell. The story of David beating Goliath has always been fascinating to me. The ultimate underdog pitted against the ultimate warrior. No one, even his own people, expects David to come out on top, but he, as Gladwell says, plays his own game and beats Goliath.<br /><br />So. The last thing on my list is to be a David. I am by nature a procrastinator and somewhat lazy. But with practice, with effort, I think I can be better, and do great things. I don' t mean to get too cliquey or sappy on here, but isn't this something we should all strive for? To challenge ourselves, expecting more than anyone else and if we're lucky, be able to prove it? Wait, no, not lucky. If we work and care and sweat and never stop, then we'll be able to prove it. Yes.<br /><br />That's my real goal, and maybe even my entire list.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-76005700234314868112009-04-18T10:09:00.003-05:002009-04-18T10:28:40.970-05:00Updates!Well. This whole "blogging more often" thing I keep spouting off is going SO WELL is it not? Hmm. I really don't feel I should even comment on it. It is a toxic topic, so moving on.<br /><br />Since I last typed something on this blog:<br /><br />- I went on spring break to DC (wassup doshtate!) and NY.<br />- When in NY I promptly lost my iPod touch. Because I am an IDIOT.<br />- I have, on three separate occasions, gone on WebMD and nearly convinced myself that I had tumors. Once in my tear duct, another time in my nostril and maybe once in my ear? I don't remember. Anyway, basically WebMD is TEH DEVIL!!! Tell your friends.<br />- Twitter has replaced Facebook in, I believe, my heart.<br />- Went to visit family in Brainerd for Easter weekend. Fun times accomplished.<br />- The weather has changed. I expect to become sick any day now. And since the weather is amazing, I've been riding my bike. Earlier this week I bought an air pump because the mechanic one I use at the student union has the wrong thingy on the end. You know what I'm talking about. Anyway, my air pump broke. Because Schwinn is full of FAIL. I will be emailing to complain. I'll keep you updated (maybe).<br />- The other night I watched an episode of Grey's Anatomy, something I haven't done for almost a year. I don't think I miss it.<br />- I got a new iPod (!!!!!!!!!!) yesterday and we are very happy together.<br />- I had a bagel for breakfast yesterday, and I really want one right NOW. This is probably not great, but I don't care. Bagels FTW!!!<br />- And finally this morning, I went on CNN.com to see what's going on. Their poll was about twitter, and naturally, I answered the question. The responses made me laugh so very hard.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSZOYlLLKyGNCNFhGPQ-0_JobjA6xttlHByEOsn1_8hhwg3sWLwkwYuhUHwg8Bp_kkNuq7ef7NXyAvpWATKlnh9qyr6fECe_f3UhjvbSFFcspvzfrW17XnHTbSBrEChlFkPvVUl1Vp6zY/s1600-h/twit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSZOYlLLKyGNCNFhGPQ-0_JobjA6xttlHByEOsn1_8hhwg3sWLwkwYuhUHwg8Bp_kkNuq7ef7NXyAvpWATKlnh9qyr6fECe_f3UhjvbSFFcspvzfrW17XnHTbSBrEChlFkPvVUl1Vp6zY/s200/twit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326053260264273458" border="0" /></a><br />I guess twitter has a ways to go.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-82043174276886134412009-03-25T20:56:00.003-05:002009-03-25T21:44:26.074-05:00In Which I Make Fun of Commercials<span style="font-weight: bold;">Bayer</span><br />Woman: "I had a heart attack and thank God..."<br />I think the commercial should just stop there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Commercial for Toffee</span> (I kid you not.)<br />Owner: "We decided to make a business about my mother's toffee."<br /><br />Steps for making such a business:<br /> 1. Put toffee on plate<br /> 2. Place plate on table along side of road<br /> 3. Put up a giant TOFFEE sign<br /> 4. Include an arrow of some kind pointing to said toffee (optional)<br /><br />BA-DA BING!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Beneful Dog Food</span><br />This guy is obnoxious and I don't trust him to even pretend to take care of a dog.<br /><br /><br />Ok, switching to TLC. <br />Holy Cats!! It's an old episode of Jon & Kate Plus Eight.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">New Monsters Movie</span><br />Basically just Monster's Inc, but less funny and with jelly monsters instead of furry ones.<br />Subtext? LAME. Don't mess with Pixar, kids.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pictureka</span><br />WTF. Where's Waldo, but with a blue penguin. <br />OH and it's timed. I don't understand.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Vonage</span><br />This still exists? I thought everyone had cell phones. Also, these commercials used to be good.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Priceline</span><br />Oh William Shatner. You're only doing these to make people feel pity for you, right? Well, it does work...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Allstate</span><br />I really liked this actor in Far From Heaven. I wonder how he feels about the fact that his career is an <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> insurance salesman, instead of you know, an actor or something. Hmm....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bissell</span><br />Who seriously has white carpet? Grandparents? Sure. Rich people? Always. <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog watchers</span>? NEVER.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peppridge farm</span><br />You know, their cookies aren't really that good. They're dry and ruin your tea. I do not approve. And why are they bragging about cookies made in the "European Tradition"? Isn't it an American company? Maybe Europeans do the advertising??<br />Or is it supposed to be exotic? Does that work for other things? Porta-potties in the European Tradition. Not so much.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TLC commercials</span><br />I dont' know how I feel about Little People Big World. It's a little strange, no? That is my only comment.<br /><br />This 18 kids show seriously freaks me out. I don't even have kids, and I feel pain when I think about that amount of labor.<br /><br />What is Say Yes to the Dress? Who would participate in such a thing? It should just be called, shitty reality TV in which everyone looks equally terrible and <span style="font-style: italic;">everyone's </span>name should end in zilla.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mercedes<br /></span>That looks like a Subaru. Which would probably work and last longer.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Scrubbing bubbles<br /></span></span>The sound is messed up. It's a split screen with 2 women and on one side you can barely hear the sound. Which kind of defeats the purpose of an ADVERTISEMENT. Way to FAIL.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jif</span><br />They have used the same spreading footage with the peanut butter being spread over the peanuts for the last 10 years. At least.<br />Also, no bread ever baked could hold up that much peanut product. And who would eat that? Protein overload!!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-48325909478031715812009-02-27T16:38:00.002-06:002009-02-27T16:51:48.087-06:00Hungry?I'm in a documentary film class this semester. It's a great class, and probably my favorite - my professor is hilarious, and we watch a documentary every week. What's not to love?<br /><br />I haven't seen many documentaries, and sometimes feel in over my head, especially since there's a guy that usually sits behind me that has seen EVERY DOCUMENTARY EVER AND HAS SOMETHING POIGNANT TO SAY ABOUT EACH, SO THERE. <br /><br />Ahem.<br /><br />Anyway, for our end of the semester project, we have to document something in our lives. I had NO IDEA what to do. My first thought was to count the number of people I see everyday wearing Uggs, but that's not that interesting and I would just make myself seem crotchety (or more so than I already am). My next thought was to write down something new I learn everyday, which while an intriguing topic, I found that I suck at keeping up with. <br /><br />Finally I decided to take pictures and describe using my typewriter every meal I make. I decided not to include things like Mac & Cheese or pizza, unless it's from scratch. I guess my idea is that I'm not the typical college student that lives on Pizza Rolls, Campbell's soup (barf!) and Cheetos. Not that there's anything technically wrong with that, per say, but I don't think I should have to be typical. So I guess the real goal of my wee document is to show my awesomeness.<br /><br />This may also be a warning of many pictures of food to come. Stay tuned.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-83415530520703088872009-02-13T14:42:00.002-06:002009-02-13T15:28:11.360-06:00Plunger EtiquetteForewarning: Now would be a good time for you to put down any food you may have in your hand.<br /><br />I have a confession to make:<br />Until earlier today, I had never used a plunger.<br /><br />It's sad, but true. Ok, mostly true. When I was in middle school I remember "helping" my dad unplug the drain in the bathroom a couple times. This mostly consisted of me sort of holding on to the plunger, and him doing all of the work. I also vaguely remember getting diluted toothpaste-water in my hair on several occasions. <br /><br />I. Was. Not. Amused.<br /><br />Today, however, my inexperience came back to haunt me. The toilet in my apartment decided not to flush completely, causing me to stand in the bathroom staring at the toilet <a href="http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j47/lv2knit/Scooby-Doo-tv-06.jpg">Scooby-Doo style</a> ("Ruh-roh....") for several minutes.<br /><br />After the first flush the contents of said toilet literally stayed put, and the bowl was filled nearly to the brim with water. Reflexively I stepped back from the toilet because A. Gross and B. There is no way I'd ever be able to wear those socks again no matter how many times I washed them. <br /><br />After doing this I realized that I had no plan for an over flowing toilet except screams of "OH SHIT!!!!" that, while strangely appropriate for the situation, would solve absolutely nothing.<br /><br />The water started draining, and after it had gone down to below normal levels, I flushed again.<br />Guess what happened! Nothing! Woooooo! <br /><br />What did happen? FAIL.<br /><br />Decided to flush one more time, while praying that it wouldn't overflow. (See above for results <span style="font-style: italic;">this time</span>. Heh.)<br /><br />So. What now? I anxiously glanced at the plunger we keep next to the toilet and decided to wash my hands. Mere proximity to the plunger made me feel dirty. Next, I consulted with my roommate. She advised using the plunger.<br /><br />Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.<br /><br />I thought about asking said roommate <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly how</span> to use plunger, but then decided against it and instead to try and make the impression that, erm, I KNOW SHIT and am not a <span style="font-style: italic;">complete</span> idiot (pun very much intended). <br /><br />Honestly I think I've already sort of blocked this from my memory, but a few minutes later, after using the plunger, I flushed the toilet again and it did what toilets are frickin supposed to do. <br /><br />Crisis Averted.<br /><br />But then I didn't know what to do with the plunger. We keep it sitting in a bag next to the toilet, but I felt weird just setting it back. Should I wash it? Or at least rinse it off? If I do wash/rinse it, should I let it dry before it returns to its place in the bathroom?? <br /><br />These questions led to further holes in my knowledge. How long should we keep the plunger? When we someday replace it, is it recyclable, or do you just throw it away? Is there a plunger relocation program where those less fortunate get our old plungers? Could it actually <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6EQiPzedxI&feature=channel">kill a demonic bunny</a>????<br /><br />In the end I just rinsed it off. <br /><br />So you tell me, Internets, was it a damning faux pas, or a completely acceptable practice? Perhaps I'm just an idiot? Would Emily Post approve of my behavior? Aside from writing about poo on the internet?Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-8111458336682486832009-01-23T16:00:00.002-06:002009-01-23T16:55:59.742-06:00Apology TimeApparently I have sort of forgotten about this blog. I really didn't mean to not post anything for 6 weeks, it just happened. Actually it's kind of interesting that during my month long vacation I wrote exactly zero blog entries. One would think I would write many more than usual, with all of the glorious downtime, but sadly, I'm just not that, erm...good? Normal? I don't know.<br /><br />I'd really like to defend my laziness, but there's really no excuse. It's not like nothing happened over break. Ooh, good topic: Things that happened during my vacation. Here comes a flaaaaaaashbaaaaaaack........<br /><br /><br />- More hellish traveling experiences. Unfortunately, said catastrophies did not result in a first class seat and subsequent blanket stealing adventure as during the great (near) debacle of Thanksgiving '08. Instead, they resulted in missing luggage for a few days, me officially hating O'Hare forever, and oh yeah, a free round trip ticket anywhere in the continental US. Can I get a Boo-Yah?<br /><br />- Sledding with <a href="http://i.sunfitters.com/3/lt310-z.jpg">Wally</a>. Heck. Yes. (Fyi, that's not me in the picture, as you may guess. But my Wally is the exact same type of whale.)<br /><br />- The testing of the German-made incense burner mentioned in previous post. Boy was it fun. Boy did my mom hate it. Definitely has my name on it so I get to take it when my parents move. (Or die, I guess. Morbidity, thy name is Klue!)<br /><br />- Played many hilarious installments of Apples to Apples, Pictionary, and Scategories. For future reference, <a href="http://www.tarabull.blogspot.com/">Tarabull</a> kicks ass at Scategories. Seriously. She will annihilate you. Actually, she and <a href="http://www.doshtate.blogspot.com/">my sister</a> should play each other. Titans, people. Titans.<br /><br />- Ventured to Tennessee to visit oldest sister and family including my 6 year-old nephew. Hilarity ensued. Silly string was discovered for the first time by said munchkin, and our lives shall never be the same again.<br />Also: weather down there was surely an abomination of some sort. Jackets and gloves unnecessary in December? Check. Greenness that can only be found on St. Patrick Day cards everywhere? Check. Klue disgusted by these very ideas? Double check.<br />But more on that trip later.<br /><br />- Another test while home. <a href="http://www.plowhearth.com/plow_assets/images/shop/catalog/8196.jpg">One of these</a>. Swedish Angel Chimes. Another treasure dug out of the piles of crap in my parents house. Ours isn't nearly as shiny as the one in the picture, but still it's awesome. The candles when lit propel the fan near the top, which spins the three metal angels around the main structure. Small bells on either side are struck with tiny hanging mallets attached to each angel's stomach. It's ridiculous, but hilarious and oddly soothing. In other words, perfect for Christmas. Heh.<br /><br /><br />See? Lots happening. Laziness also just happens to be under the category of "Lots" so, my bad. I'll work on that.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-85477587006316190152008-12-10T22:38:00.005-06:002008-12-10T23:06:07.784-06:00Why Christmas Can't Come Too SoonMy mother, admittedly, has a lot of crap at her house. My sisters and I have found some real gems in the past few years when helping to clean the house. Few things, however, make it into the prestigious league of the utterly ridiculous and what-were-you thinking?! class. <br />For example, one recent favorite was a pink bunny wall hanging. A much larger than life-size pink bunny. It's pretty phenomenal.<br /><br />When I was home recently, I came across something that really is a winner.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LZNCktEZ_d6zAnMY8nPJJv8KxTPYXP07YfYnFs9xPcaHklF2BhKxep0kqbqUfTzrR16R_SCBwqaXblVWMp6KXEEdjJCXhdHE8tHitT23nKaaKdvEJv6n559r53UiY84SSHlWSi76WaBm/s1600-h/IMG_1475.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LZNCktEZ_d6zAnMY8nPJJv8KxTPYXP07YfYnFs9xPcaHklF2BhKxep0kqbqUfTzrR16R_SCBwqaXblVWMp6KXEEdjJCXhdHE8tHitT23nKaaKdvEJv6n559r53UiY84SSHlWSi76WaBm/s320/IMG_1475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278389278746400578" border="0" /></a><br />All I needed was a large dish, but instead, when I opened the hutch, I found this little buddy. What you can't see in this picture is that he's holding a lantern and his navy felt cape is really not portrayed to it's greatest strength. Oh, and that leather strap across his chest? Yeah, there's a golden (wooden) horn at the end of it.<br /><br />What is it? I wondered that too. Apparently, it is a German made incense burner. Owned by a woman who CAN'T STAND any form of incense or strongly scented candle. I'm not kidding. Several times she's broken into fits of coughing in the candle section at Pier One. (Although, to be fair, it is a rather stinky place)<br /><br />But how does it work?? This is where I thought she might throw her hands up in confusion and walk away but, she totally knew. You take his head off, insert cone shaped incense, replace the head and the smoke COMES OUT OF HIS MOUTH.<br /><br />I'm so testing it out over Christmas break. <br />Oh, also planning on naming this bad boy. Any suggestions?Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-3932061846522975142008-12-03T15:11:00.003-06:002008-12-03T15:52:09.009-06:00Blankets, or: Why I love flyingLast weekend I flew back to Minneapolis from Michigan after being back home for Thanksgiving. Earlier in the week I described this experience as hellish, and while it was, now that I think about it, Sunday wasn't nearly as bad as other traveling experiences I've had.<br /><br />I believe I have come to this conclusion because of the fact that on my second flight that I was not originally booked on and that took off a whopping 45 minutes after it was scheduled, I sat in first class. And it was legit.<br /><br />But let me tell the whole story.<br /><br />As I was finishing packing Sunday afternoon, my Mom came into my room and told me to be prepared, O'Hare was already delaying and canceling flights in spite of the fact that it was barely snowing there. A whopper of a storm was about to engulf the midwest. Subtext: Hide your children and put on clean underwear! <br /><br />As I walked into the TC airport, it started snowing. I saw the enormous line in front of NWA and thought "Suckaaaaaas! SO happy I'm flying United!" Got in line behind a lady with a really nice green suitcase and 3 other people in front of her. <br /><br />Then we overheard the United agent tell every person that oh, FYI, your flight? You know, the one that should leave around 4? Yeah. Good luck with that. Try 6. If you're lucky. <br /><br />Double u teeeeeeee efffffffffffffff?<br /><br />This line was no longer the happy line. Basically no one had any chance of making their connection (mine was around the time of our updated departure - wah wah...) so they were booking people like crazy on other flights. This meant, for me, that instead of getting into Minneapolis at the respectable 6:35, it was now looking like my plane would be landing (if it could take off at all) around 11:30. <br /><br />Happy Camper = Not Me.<br /><br />So. I got to sit in the TC airport around people freaking out about not getting home Monday, their dogs at the kennels, and little kids literally running laps around the terminal, moms and dads barely in tow.<br /><br />5:30 pm EST: In line to board the plane. The old people and tiny children are heading toward the podium. A boarding pass is about to be handed to an agent when...."United passengers, we are not able to board at this time." !!!!!!!!!!!!! "New wheels up estimated time is 7:30."<br /><br />I don't know about you, but it is SO ANNOYING to be ready to get on a plane - things packed up, ipod turned off, boarding pass accessible - then being told to sit down for another hour and a half.<br /><br />Finally, about the time I was thinking about which hotel I would stay at in TC, we got on the plane and got to Chicago. <br /><br />Earlier, in TC when I had been booked on another flight, I hadn't been given a boarding pass, but instead a receipt type thing that I was instructed to give to a United employee who could then print me a boarding pass.<br /><br />I still had about 3 hours until my flight, but I wanted to make sure I had a seat what with the hundreds of people sitting around waiting on standby. I did not want to do that, so I found my gate. No United representative there or at any other gate nearby. I was near the info spot for United, so I went there only to find one of the longest lines EVER. Thought to myself that those people probably missed connections. I, technically, hadn't so it didn't make sense that I needed to be in that line. Kept walking and saw someone at a podium with no line. SCORE! Got my boarding pass, and barely registered the fact that it was gold instead of the typical blue before stuffing it in my book and heading off to get some dinner.<br /><br />After eating and doing my homework, I was sitting near the gate (which was moved, but closeby thank God) and looked at my boarding pass. It didn't have a seating number on it, which my other United boarding passes had, and looking again at the gold then seeing 1A I realized I was going to be living the high life in FIRST CLASS. Sure enough, when I went through the line with the actual business class people, I wasn't turned away.<br /><br />Let me just say that while I will not in the near future buy a first class ticket, it is TOTALLY WORTH IT. The comfort of the seats alone are a bit astonishing.<br /><br />I have only been in first class one other time. My oldest sister and I were flying back from our grandparent's houses (well, trailers, but that's a different story...) and while running through the Houston airport (we almost missed our plane) my sister looked at our boarding passes and told me that maybe we had possibly been bumped up to first class.<br /><br />We were. It was fantastic. Honestly, I don't remember much because a) it was 10 years ago and b) I was only 10 years old. I do remember, however, that I had the chicken and not the lasagna and that they gave us real glasses and real silverware. I also was in the back row of first class, so I could lean back and play my gameboy without annoying anyone. Bliss for a fourth grader is much easier to achieve than one might think, friends.<br /><br />Anyway, to commemorate this occasion, I decided very early on the flight (before completely passing out - no complimentary drink!) that I would steal a blanket. Unfortunately, I was sitting next to a flight attendant that was just riding, and I was afraid she'd call me on it or something.<br /><br />Luckily, I was just too stealthy. I hid it under my coat to carry it off the airplane, then went around a corner and shoved it in my bag. And no one was the wiser. Until now. Hmmm.....<br /><br />Well, I just can't wait until another 10 years go by and I steal another first class blanket. Think of the updates in the material alone!<br /><br />Oh the memories.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-66080642010776889892008-11-21T15:00:00.003-06:002008-11-21T15:31:02.449-06:00I'm an Idiot. Example #379I've used the same backpack for almost a year and a half. It's green, has a nice corduroy laptop pocket, and generally most of the amenities you'd expect from a moderately large backpack - iPod pouch, cellphone pocket, water bottle compartment, even a special bag to put computer cords in that fits in a specific mesh holder on the inside. After over a year, one would expect to know everything about said backpack, and appropriately have crap everywhere in it.<br /><br />Done and done.<br /><br />Despite all of the wonderful things about it, the thing that has annoyed me to no end were the black straps that go around your waist and clip together in the middle. They hung down very low and slapped against my legs. This didn't hurt, but it was annoying and the straps themselves were pretty flimsy and didn't do much for support. <br />Early on, I always had them clipped together and adjusted tight against the bottom of the backpack, so that they were out of the way. This was annoying as it drove the clipped pieces into the small of my back.<br />So for a while I used them as they are intended, clipping them together around my waist. Naturally, I forgot about this <span style="font-style: italic;">every</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">time</span> I took my backpack off, which trust me, is not a good way to show how savvy you are with a fancy awesome backpack (see idiocy example #236).<br />Finally I got into the habit of wrapping them around the straps that attach the backpack to the shoulder pads. While this undoubtedly looked stupid, a mass of seatbelt material on either side of my body, it worked pretty well, and I didn't think about it much, except when I had to re-wrap them around the straps. This, actually was somewhat constant.<br />Nevertheless, I continued to this. Until Wednesday.<br /><br />After work on Wednesday, I went to catch the bus. As this is what I always do everyday, it doesn't really matter. Except that when I took my backpack off and sat down, one of the clip straps that was not wound up very much, swung underneath the seat and got stuck on the lip of the bus seat. It wasn't stuck permanently, nor was it broken, but when I looked down at the strap, I saw something that in a year and a half of ownership I had somehow failed to see: Velcro.<br /><br />Yes, boys and girls, the straps which had served no purpose and annoyed me from day one and that I once contemplated cutting off were attached to metal clips at the base of my backpack with Velcro. VELCRO. As in, you can remove them from your backpack in about 2.3 seconds.<br /><br />Idiot? Table for one? Yes, lead the way sir. I'll have the special.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-52670593823791944872008-11-10T16:22:00.004-06:002008-11-12T16:01:25.577-06:00I wish I knew Dr. OzMy eyelid keeps twitching. <br /><br />According to Web MD it could be Blepharospasm, which to me is a mildly scary, yet hilarious borderline that's-what-she-said expression.<br /><br />Web MD says that a cause of Blepharospasm could be lack of sleep, dryness of eyes, some other scary neurological stuff or...caffeine intake. I'm going to ignore scary brain issues, cause, yeah. I do wear contacts most of the time, but this year I've been trying to wear my glasses more often (cause they're hawt) and I generally get around seven hours of sleep. As for caffeine intake - what do you think? I'm a college student.<br /><br />So the question becomes, should I give up caffeine and see if the eye twitch goes away?<br /><br />I'm guessing the answer I will soon arrive at will be somewhere along the lines of hell to the NO.<br /><br />I began writing this post two days ago, then ignored it for a little while. Today, the twitching hasn't been quite as bad. This undoubtedly will trigger it, because that's my luck, but still, curious no?<br /><br /><br />In other news (not really): This weekend I watched a couple of episodes of this show on BBC America - I think it's called You Are What You Eat. I don't remember if that's exactly the title, but I don't really feel like looking it up.<br /><br />So in this show a nutritionist visits couples in the UK that have really terrible eating habits, tells them how freaking gross they are and introduces them to vegetables. She examines their blood, and bowl movements, then they formulate a healthy eating plan and you see the results after a few weeks of their new diet and exercise.<br /><br />I always feel like I should take a shower and go for a run when I watch this show, but also I feel sort of gratified because I realize that I eat pretty healthily. Sure I indulge in bi-weekly Cheeto scarfing, but I don't cook everything in liters of vegetable oil, or eat 2 loaves of white bread a week.<br /><br />It has made me very, very scared of what a show like this taped in the US would reveal. In a time when Heart Disease is the number one killer of all US residents, I'm scared for us. I really hope that we are teaching children about healthy nutrition and making good choices in what they put into their bodies, but in reality, I know that many of them will have no clue.<br /><br />A year ago I decided I would try being a vegetarian. Honestly, I didn't know if I really could do it, and I think the challenge is part of the reason I changed the way I ate. I also had learned some things about the way energy is used and lost when producing meat for consumers that concerned me, not to mention a lack of restrictions and environmental problems with commercial meat production. In other words, I didn't do it because of PETA told me to or because "chickens have feelings too!"<br /><br />I'm not going to decry anyone of eating meat. I don't believe everyone that does in unhealthy or terrible and going to hell. I'm not trying to force my views on anyone or trying to denounce someone because they believe or act in a way different than I do. <br /><br />But what I don't understand is why so many people act as if vegetarians are pariahs for their choices. It is especially puzzling when people react negatively to the idea of vegetarianism and then go on to say that they are not interested in hearing arguments for vegetarianism or a lecture about how eating meat is bad. I do not wish to dissuade them, but I don't think it's out of line to expect the same courtesy from them. Belittling me for making the choices that I do is already unfair without giving me a chance to belittle right back (not that I'd want to, but you get the idea).<br /><br />For me personally when I tell someone I'm vegetarian, I am more often greeted with a "WHY?!" than a more open "Oh that's interesting, for how long?" or "I didn't know that, tell me more." I'm getting a little frustrated with it all, and while I don't want to hide who I am, I really don't like being forced to be defensive. It's not how I roll.<br /><br />Ok, end of quasi-rant. Going to go make my eyelids act normally by sheer will now.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-79489891876837752592008-10-24T14:37:00.002-05:002008-10-24T15:22:10.067-05:00PerksIn my apartment we have HBO. Five different channels of HBO to be exact. This is glorious. Also, it is very, very dangerous.<br /><br />To wit: Last weekend while eating breakfast I flipped on the TV and saw that Atonement was on. I decided to watch part of it, because it was almost to this one scene (no, not THAT one) that is absolutely breathtaking and frankly amazing. It's the one where Robbie and his comrades reach the beach where all the other British soldiers are waiting around to go back home. They basically just walk around and gape, literally gape at everything going on. The amazing thing about it is that it is over 5 minutes long. With no cuts. It is one giant take with hundreds of extras singing, running, dying, fighting and as I said, walking around.<br /><br />I was only going to watch that one part. Then do other stuff. <br />Or.....I could watch the whole rest of the movie because I really liked Vanessa Redgrave's performance, oh and Briony in the hospital being all weird and first-namey.<br /><br />This is why HBO is dangerous.<br /><br />Oh, and there are no commercials. Again, great and dangerous.<br /><br />One of the things I have started to watch on HBO is Real Time with Bill Maher. It's a pretty good show. Notice the pretty good? Yes? That is because I love and hate this show. During the course of the hour, it is not uncommon for me to laugh, cringe, applaud, cringe again, furrow my brow, giggle and vehemently disagree.<br /><br />Specifically, I don't particularly like Bill Maher. I think that he's one of those people who thinks he's really funny, but also is so confident that everyone else thinks he's really, really funny. It's irritating. I usually change the channel during his monologues a few times not because of the content of what he's saying, but the way in which he delivers it.<br /><br />My absolute favorite part (usually) of the show is the panel discussion.<br /><br />There are three panelists, and they discuss what is going on in politics, the world, country, whatever. Its been mostly about politics lately because, well, what isn't? Usually the panel consists of one comedian or actor (sometimes two) and either a journalist or political figure. Also, the panel is either made up of 3 more liberal people, or 2 liberals and one extremely conservative person (ie. WSJ columnists).<br /><br />Here's the part where I'm going to contradict other things I have said on this blog: The panel discussion is best when the three people have generally the same political ideology. I hate it when there is one conservative, and not because I hate conservatives or don't care about what they want to say. <br /><br />So much for pluralism right?<br /><br />I say this because the panel ends up arguing for twenty minutes about one thing and everyone starts to repeat and repeat what has already been said. It turns into every other crappy show on MSNBC and CNN and Fox News and I get really annoyed. On the other had, when the panel is made up of 3 liberals, they can talk about what's going on without getting too defensive, and they listen to what everyone has to say. They are also more free to bring in a different point of view and discuss it, because there isn't a huge divide between their beliefs.<br /><br />This brings me to Ben Affleck.<br /><br />I've never really thought much about Ben Affleck. I like the movie Good Will Hunting, and Jennifer Garner seems like a nice enough person, but I never thought he was really that great or interesting. He was on the panel last week along with Martin Short (somewhat surprisingly insightful) and Bernie Sanders (Independent Senator from Vermont. He's also pretty awesome).<br /><br />I was very impressed. Especially by Ben Affleck.<br /><br />The video below is a part of the panel discussion. I came around to Ben Affleck especially with what he said starting at around 5:20.<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iL6YS-8rBnE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iL6YS-8rBnE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Here here, Ben. Here here.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-81238836178810454582008-09-26T15:10:00.004-05:002008-09-26T15:59:50.111-05:00Here's Your ChangeLast weekend I went to the grocery store. Let me just say, before I get into the actual point of this whole story, that I really enjoy going to the grocery store. It is a joyous occasion. And I don't know why. There's nothing that spectacular about it - I just really like buying groceries. <br /><br />Anyway, I found everything I wanted (oh, and needed, I guess) and headed to the check out. As I was handing the check out guy my basket and <a href="http://www.onebagatatime.com/index.php?page=misc&section=solution">bags</a>, he noticed the sticker on my bag and read it.<br /><br />"I will vote?" he said.<br />I was caught a little off guard. No one had noticed, or at least said anything about it before. I said something along the lines of "oh yeah, a friend gave it to me," before trailing off completely.<br /><br />"So you're not going to vote?"<br />"No, I am. Definitely am."<br />"Oh, ok."<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><a href="http://www.onebagatatime.com/index.php?page=misc&section=home"><br /></a><br />Then came what now seems the inevitable....<br /><br />"You're not voting for McCain, are you?"<br /><br />I didn't know exactly what to say. No, I was not, and am not voting for John McCain, but for some reason it felt like a very personal question. Me of little confrontation didn't particularly want to get into a "What's Wrong With America" argument with a person that could easily charge me triple the price for the plums I dearly wanted without me noticing, thank you very much. But I had to answer his question. He was waiting.<br /><br />"Um, no. I'm not." (cautious chuckle)<br />"Good. You didn't seem completely crazy, but I thought I'd check."<br /><br />Hm. As affirming as it is to be told by a complete stranger that you're not <span style="font-style: italic;">quite</span> as crazy as you should be, given family precedent, I didn't particularly like where he was going with this.<br /><br />I have this crazy idea that people who vote differently than I aren't completely psychotic. I know, he's redacting his crazy statement as I type, but honestly, I don't have a problem with diversity. Stupidity is another matter, and I think we can all agree all political parties have a great deal of that to contend with.<br /><br />I guess what bothered me most about this whole situation was the fact that he seemed to go from 0 to 60 on the defensive scale and I wasn't even disagreeing with him.<br /><br />I like discourse. I like intelligent, pluralistic conversations where people can throw out new ideas and thoughts and not get yelled at because they're expressing something different from the "acceptable" course of action. I question my leaders, what they believe and how they act, and there's nothing wrong with saying you like a few things about the guy you're not voting for. We should be able to express our feelings, our doubts, what we know and what we want to learn more about and in turn, be open to the same sentiments from others. <br /><br />These conversations, unfortunately, are few and far between. Today, for some reason, a difference in opinion is equivalent to being someone's enemy and that, more than a "third term" and more than a $700 billion IOU absolutely scares the hell out of me.<br /><br />Why? Well, the words "We're" and "Screwed" come to mind...Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-32083118082467469632008-09-14T22:49:00.002-05:002008-09-14T23:03:00.462-05:00Fun FactThe word <span style="font-style: italic;">vomit</span> as we know it is derived from the latin <span style="font-style: italic;">vomitoria</span> referring to passageways that led to a tier of seats in an amphitheater or coliseum. It was a very efficient system for getting patrons to their seats, but more importantly, in the event of an emergency, people could exit from them quickly - in essence <span style="font-style: italic;">spewing out</span> of the arena in a matter of minutes. <br /><br />Who knew?Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-9104995301847304282008-09-13T14:29:00.003-05:002008-09-13T16:03:19.517-05:00Welcome to AmericaA few days ago I decided I wouldn't write about Sarah Palin on this blog. I think it's old news, and since the world is still suspended somewhere in the universe, whizzing frantically around the sun, certainly there are other, more interesting things to talk about.<br /><br />So I'm not going to jump on the band wagon and rehash everything that's been said about her career or her family, or even the fact that she does look a little bit like Tina Fey.<br /><br />I am, however, going to come very close to the subject to say that as much as most of America (myself included) keeps talking about how ludicrous it is that women will vote for her only because she herself is a woman, and that she has no experience for the job etc. that might not really matter.<br /><br />Why? Because we live in America.<br /><br />I remember hearing this story four years ago from a friend of my parents, in the midst of the Kerry/Bush race.<br /><br />My parents friend knew a woman that had been on an airplane - I don't remember where they were flying - but she was sitting across the aisle from John and Teresa Heinz Kerry. This woman, we'll call her Jan, said that during the entire flight John Kerry was talking to his wife, and while she wasn't really listening in on their conversation, it was obvious he was trying to explain himself or apologize for something. Mrs. Kerry didn't even acknowledge him. The entire flight she gave him the cold shoulder, not responding, not arguing just pulling the very successful Ican'thearyouIcan'thearyou maneuver.<br /><br />The most interesting part of this story, though, is Jan's response.<br /><br />She said, "I'd rather have Laura."<br /><br />Even at the time, when I couldn't vote yet and for that matter wasn't even sure of what I believed, I found this disconcerting. To me, since Laura Bush and Teresa Kerry weren't actually running for anything, I didn't really care who they were. Sure, they matter to their husbands and families, but certainly there had to be something more important to Jan (and, I guess, to America) than the attitude of a spouse on one day of her entire life.<br /><br />Then again, we live in America. We're interested, whether we want to admit it or not, in the story of it all. This election isn't merely a match-up between the Democrats and Republicans, it's a contest. A team sport.<br /><br />I think, for a lot of Americans, it's a contest of who is the "better person." I know who I'm voting for, but still, I like thinking about the descriptions of the candidates without any names or affiliations. It seems a pretty accurate slice of America.<br /><br />A Harvard alum who came from nothing but a diverse background; A survivor, truly, of both war and cancer; A widower, family man and frequent patron of public transit; And a working mother with a large family from a small town.<br /><br />I think you have to admit, as far as stories go, that one is pretty good.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-61991627592847882622008-08-30T11:40:00.003-05:002008-08-30T12:13:36.647-05:00Parting is Such Sweet SorrowThen again, maybe not.<br /><br />In moving back to Minneapolis for another year of college, I had to wrap up my summer job last week. I expect to find a news article any day reporting the office burst into flames after someone couldn't change the toner. It could happen.<br /><br />I'm not really that sad about it in all honesty. Sure, I'll miss the people I worked with - mostly - and the pay - still lower than it should have been, sorry, this is not the time for a rant - but I'm not too bent out of shape. Ok, there is an actual story I was going to tell. Here goes, um, something.<br /><br />I've worked in the same office for two summers. This summer was different, I knew the people calling all the time, the procedures, how to work the fax machine, but I did have a lot more responsibility and new things to do. One thing, however stayed the same.<br /><br />Every day that I had the office coffee I used the same mug. It is, quite possibly, one of the best mugs I have ever encountered. It has Snap, Crackle, and Pop of Rice Krispie fame printed on the outside. It made my morning coffee experience so much better and generally just brightened up my day. It even has its own little quirks. There's a small crack through the bottom of the handle (not bad enough to doom it to the garbage thankfully) and a permanent stain on the side.<br /><br />In short, I loved this mug. And long ago I decided I would steal it.<br /><br />I knew no one would miss it because a) it was always on my desk b) there were about 15 other mugs in the cupboard for the other 6 people and c) there was an almost identical Rice Krispie mug in the cupboard. But mine was special.<br /><br />The other one has a lipstick stain on it - very unflattering - and just didn't seem to have the worldly perspective mine did.<br /><br />On my last day of work I used my mug as usual and decided to wash and dry it out so it didn't get water all over the other stuff in my purse. My plan was to set it on my desk and as 5 o'clock approached, put it in my bag when no one was over by my desk. This was no problem. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Except</span> that I also had a Tazo tea glass bottle and a travel mug to take home as well. I had wanted to make an inconspicuous exit, but with 2 or 3 bulky cups in my small-ish purse, I knew this would be difficult.<br /><br />I decided to put both the bottle and mug in my purse and carry the travel mug to the car. Luckily most people were gone by the time I was leaving and the ones that were left were guys and, let's face it, were not going to notice the unsightly bulges in my bag.<br /><br />I made it out unscathed. But....I was meeting a few people from work for dinner.<br /><br />Now, a normal person would not have irrational fears about leaving a mug and tea bottle in the passenger seat of their car, but obviously I am not your normal individual.<br /><br />I pulled up to the restaurant and immediately thought about what I should do. I wasn't going to put it in the trunk, that's a little too drug dealer-ish for me, and I didn't have a blanket in the backseat to hide them under so I decided (thinking I was taking too long and needed to go inside) to place the mug under my seat. As I gingerly set it on the carpet I reminded myself not to kick it when I got back in the car.<br /><br />Upon getting out of the car I managed to drop my cell phone, a few receipts and some band aids on the pavement in front of about 15 people sitting on the porch. Brilliant.<br /><br />As expected, I did kick the mug when I got back in the car an hour and a half later, but other than that I think it was a very successful heist. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6OtjHmokIFloBMeSjKtGDH7-Xj8RNViz8Mhzvj1HyCwGfSqUdLGNi103XrWpL5n4tM2pLH7bieqND4hvq6rPIL8g-dKhFzkCPEOP7Twp4lSBdWHeVgE8G5lpCwXzZ0wkswiBTrU9RXoZ/s1600-h/IMG_1366.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6OtjHmokIFloBMeSjKtGDH7-Xj8RNViz8Mhzvj1HyCwGfSqUdLGNi103XrWpL5n4tM2pLH7bieqND4hvq6rPIL8g-dKhFzkCPEOP7Twp4lSBdWHeVgE8G5lpCwXzZ0wkswiBTrU9RXoZ/s320/IMG_1366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240359011483579650" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, I daresay it was.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-33117813150750813712008-07-27T20:15:00.005-05:002008-07-27T21:27:14.640-05:00Gather Round!Today, friends, I have only a few stories to share. I had very little to do with any of them - I was merely present when they occurred.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">#1</span><br /><br />I work in an office with people that are all at least 20 years older than me. A few weeks ago two of them began a conversation during which I found myself wishing simultaneously they would continue and immediately stop.<br /><br />It began when Sara saw an advertisement for a local drive-in and said, "Oh, I've always loved those drive-ins. They're so much fun!"<br /><br />Me: "Oh yeah I've been to that one. My friend won a t-shirt."<br />Sara: "Really? That sounds so fun. I should try to go sometime this summer."<br />Dean, on the other side of the office: "I bet I know why YOU liked them, Sara. And it has nothing to do with movies...."<br />Sara: "What?! No, no...."<br />Dean: "Oh come on, <span style="font-style: italic;">a drive-in</span> with some hot young guy."<br />Sara (ignoring Dean): "I just always liked the atmosphere. Oh, and they always had those great advertisements. You know, the dancing hot dog -<br />Dean: "HAHAHA....Yeah the dancing hot dog...<br />Sara: "And the clever jingles."<br />Dean: "....JUMPING into the bun."<br />Me (silently): <span style="font-style: italic;">"Gross.........but...that's what she said. "<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><br />Dean continued to make jokes then began muttering too quietly to hear. I was severely grossed out, shaking with laughter and very grateful for my cubicle wall.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">#2</span><br /><br />Recently I have been preparing for the upcoming semester and moving into an apartment. My roommates and I have been emailing about what we have, what we need etc. My Mom has been oddly fascinated with each response (some of which I haven't told her) and frankly quite hilarious with her own responses. To wit:<br /><br />Earlier this week Mom and I were eating dinner, talking about what my roommates and I were planning to buy at the <a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/">best store ever</a> when we get to school in August. Then out of nowhere she says,<br /><br />"I think you should go on and say, 'my Mom is into drugs...'"<br /><br />Cut to me, practically falling off my chair DYING OF LAUGHTER.<br /><br />"'....and she'd be willing to buy the first containers of toilet bowl cleaner and Ajax.'"<br /><br />First of all, just the fact that my elementary school teacher Mother acknowledged the existence of homemade hallucinogenics is hilarious. Especially considering two advil is about her limit.<br />Secondly, she actually said she was into drugs. Secretly I have always wished for this, but I honestly never thought it would happen.<br /><br />Then she told me about how during the year when there are speakers that come to her school to talk to kids there's a certain foundation that gives grants to some speakers as long as they mention staying away from drugs, alcohol and the like. She said you can always tell which ones are funded because they give their whole prepared spiel, about the given topic - teddy bears, financial independence - but at the very end they randomly throw in 2 minutes of anti-drug mumbo jumbo. <br /><br />So she calls these (but only to her teaching partner, at least so far) the drug money speakers. <br /><br />Yes. That would be my mom.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">#3</span><br /><br />Finally, a story involving someone I am proud to call my friend.<br /><br />Thursday night a few of my friends got together for our weekly game of Ultimate Frisbee. Unfortunately, there weren't enough people to actually play, so we played soccer and just stood around. Then <a href="http://tarabull.blogspot.com/">Tarabull</a> sort of smacked one of my other friends, Nirem (who had only gotten 3 hours of sleep the night before) who subsequently flopped on the ground. The other five of us just kind of laughed and kept talking. Then Chels suggested we go over to the shore and put our feet in the water. Everyone started walking toward the water, ignoring Nirem, still lying on the ground. Except me, that is.<br /><br />She had her eyes closed and didn't respond when I said her name. Naturally, I assumed she was pretending to be asleep just to spite me. She didn't move.<br /><br />"Nirem?" I poked her shoulder. Several times. <br /><br />"What- Where are we?" Half sitting up, she glanced around. She indeed <span style="font-weight: bold;">had</span> fallen asleep. On the wet grass. With five people standing around and talking. In about 2 minutes.<br /><br />"You really fell asleep? Didn't you hear us talking?"<br /><br />"Um, a little I guess."<br /><br />"Hmm."<br /><br />This was a first. She woke up, almost completely, then we decided to hide from the rest of the group across the street from Nirem's car behind some bushes. <br /><br />Needless to say we were successful.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-74273291712643043032008-07-12T21:18:00.002-05:002008-07-12T21:46:50.297-05:00Does Anyone Have a Kleenex?A while ago, I'm not sure how long exactly, I was at a friend's house and I used some of her body spray. Let me just state that I am not a particularly picky person when it comes to scents - I know what I like, but my likeness range encompasses more than Clinique Happy. This one, however, was a doozy. <br /><br />It smelled like sneeze.<br /><br />Keep in mind that I totally know that this is disgusting.<br /><br />You know when you have a really big sneeze and you invariably have to inhale afterwards - you get this little whiff of snot filled air - that was exactly the scent of this god awful body spray. It made me gag a little.<br /><br />Since then, I have been ridiculed many times by my friends because of my opinions of said body spray, so generally I have quieted any sentiments concerning sneezes or their smell.<br /><br /><br />Fast forward to last night. My parents and I went for dinner at a local pizza place. It's a pretty generic family restaurant with a bunch of pizzas and sub sandwiches on the menu. In the restaurant there are several video games, a bouncy ball machine, and two of those prize machines you can win webkinz or key chains from. The key chain/worthless crap machine had this little loop theme song that would come on about every two minutes, and of course we were sitting right next to it.<br /><br />As I was listening to the irritatingly mechanic jingle, I heard a strange sound at the end and couldn't quite tell what it was. Then I got it.<br /><br />"It sounds like someone is sneezing during this song!"<br /><br />It really did - I'm not making it up. There was a prolonged "chh" sound, exactly like when you have a really big sneeze. It was rather disgusting and frighteningly realistic. I didn't go into the specifics with my parents sitting there, about to eat dinner, but you get the picture.<br /><br />Needless to say, my parents were a bit doubtful. I sensed a rather strong "Um...okay" unspoken response from both, but as in the case of the sneezetastic body spray, I knew the truth and would not yield to dissent, dammit.<br /><br />"Just listen. You'll hear it."<br /><br />A few moments later my Dad confirmed my belief and boosted my confidence. But were we both just crazy? Why would a stupid video game jingle have a sneeze in it?? My Mom hadn't heard it yet, and I needed a third party's opinion.<br /><br />The song came on again.<br /><br />"Ok, listen. Here it comes, after this part.....ok. Wait, here it, no that wasn't.....Ok here it is. Right. Right now!"<br /><br /><br />Achoo!<br /><br /><br />Victory. Victory is mine.Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7662157103262570401.post-88924938866718692462008-06-24T20:50:00.007-05:002008-11-13T13:11:21.391-06:00Ala Kazaam!I've been a wee bit absent from this blog lately, but sorry, I have a life.<br /><br />Ok, that was a little harsh. Anyway...<br /><br />I have been busy, readjusting to living back at home for the summer, working full time, and planning some exciting things for the future (coming soon to a url near YOU!).<br />Though I will not honor you, dear reader, with the blog you so deserve, I will share a fantastically hilarious story with you.<br /><br />- - - - - -<br /><br />Last week my eldest sister graced us with a visit along with her 5-year old son Zach. On Tuesday we went to Big Boy for dinner.<br /><br />Now, before I go on, let me explain something. I freaking hate Big Boy. While he has never really done anything to personally insult me (although I've heard stories and trust me BB, they have friends on the outside...) I'd rather never look at one for the rest of my life. My family generally NEVER eats there, especially when I am there to offer a hearty veto. The reason we went is that some of our friends are currently serving as missionaries in Chile and BB was going to donate proceeds to a group that was going down to help out.<br />Needless to say, I felt like a complete ass because I was dreading this dinner and really, really did not want to go.<br /><br />It ended up being fine. I had macaroni and "cheese" and generally had a good time. While we were waiting for our food, Zach asked how something worked, (I'm slightly ashamed to say I don't remember what) and I truthfully replied "Magic".<br /><br />"Magic isn't real" he said, before initiating the I-know-everything-death-stare.<br /><br />"It lives in me" I countered. My sister at this point snorted very loudly into her iced tea.<br /><br />40 minutes later, dying to leave and take a shower, I headed for the door behind Zach who held a takeout box with half a grilled cheese in it on top of his head. Naturally, I grabbed it and held it behind my back. I then initiated the guess which hand game, switching the box every time.<br /><br />After about 5 guesses my mom walked up and stood next to me, grabbed the box and moved away.<br />Brilliant? Yes. Hilarious? Absolutely. But the real question: did our intrepid guesser notice the switch?<br /><br />I revealed both hands and he walked around me asking where I hid it and grabbing the bottom of my jacket.<br /><br />"I told you magic was real!"<br /><br />"Where is it!!"<br /><br />"I told you, I made it disappear!"<br /><br />Putting my hands behind my back I told him to guess again and *like magic* my mom stealthily replaced the magic grilled cheese. 2 more guesses and tada! the box reappeared intact, possibly even more delicious than before. Presto!<br /><br /><br /><br />Speaking of magic.....Fun with photobooth!!!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZkwQbxzb4THWtEgy9kF0goSS_XLPIZO1oOUBv8PYnd5PtGriu2lVCthOYupMWq43n50uiMimsnv6OxKtw9KqcuE7L2fceH5AQl3AK1-TdzV6LLZW9LwxvX1Cd7YztD0B2ESbjJtBd1vE/s1600-h/Photo+52.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZkwQbxzb4THWtEgy9kF0goSS_XLPIZO1oOUBv8PYnd5PtGriu2lVCthOYupMWq43n50uiMimsnv6OxKtw9KqcuE7L2fceH5AQl3AK1-TdzV6LLZW9LwxvX1Cd7YztD0B2ESbjJtBd1vE/s320/Photo+52.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215638792052357266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XZJzMcQPvoeayCLeOrvcmANieG6jD3yrpNV9HbwqfYwTeiLHH_JVSFNonv3sWWR-OXl_OPxPqAvnGfXLFl3pbbe7nBwG46n1_MOcSodY36yFpPy9-kH2Tg5HgVZWrLucII2JS-4qJOeM/s1600-h/Photo+47.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XZJzMcQPvoeayCLeOrvcmANieG6jD3yrpNV9HbwqfYwTeiLHH_JVSFNonv3sWWR-OXl_OPxPqAvnGfXLFl3pbbe7nBwG46n1_MOcSodY36yFpPy9-kH2Tg5HgVZWrLucII2JS-4qJOeM/s320/Photo+47.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215639340045444162" border="0" /></a>Kluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15141967119923689489noreply@blogger.com1