Stinks to be back from spring break, doesn't it? Don't worry, I got your back. In case work and/or school aren't going smoothly, check out my new favorite ways to cheer up!
Buy yourself an Iron Man lunchbox. Really, any superhero will do. Nothing wrong with reverting back to your childhood to put a little smile on your face.
Order at the drive-thru in your best Arnold Swarzenegger voice. Or Bill Cosby...that's a good one too. Just don't ask them for puddin' pops. They don't like that.
Sing into a plastic cup just to hear the goofy way it echos. It doesn't matter what song, pick one that makes you happy. Just so you know, "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor and "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard are by far my favorite picks.
These past few days on spring break have given me a chance to reflect on our time together and the pros and cons of our relationship.
In years past, you've given me the opportunity to meet many types of people of varied intellect, like the girls who decided to rank all our presidents in order from "Not Hot" to "Edward Cullen Hot", or my friend's classmate, who was convinced that Mount Rushmore was formed by erosion. However, those moments couldn't hold a candle to having to sit through an hour-long lecture on the history of the F-word...FOR AN ENGLISH CLASS.
I am quite weary of paying you thousands upon thousands of dollars for the above experiences, and it's high time you learned I am not your sugar mama.
I'm sure we've all had dreams that weird us out from time to time. It's perfectly common for me to wake up in the morning with a quizzical look on my face, wondering how on earth I managed to dream up such ridiculous notions. A case in point would be the time I dreamed that I was a beat-boxing nun. I know, I totally missed my calling, right?! One thing's for certain; I could beat those namby-pambies in The Sound of Music all to pieces!
That was certainly odd, but not quite as strange as the night I fell asleep and fantasized I was a princess trapped in a tower made of mozzarella cheese. At the end, I was rescued by two heroic Italian men named Prosciutto and Mortadella. That's when I knew my cooking hobby was spiraling out of control.
As odd as both those dreams are, they look harmless compared to the dream where Germaine Jackson was sitting on my couch, playing the bongo drums in his underpants. I'm sure you can see why I was terrified to fall asleep the next few nights after that.
Here's hoping your slumbers tonight are peaceful and Jackson-free! :)
Whenever someone hears that I dabble in standup comedy, they usually ask me if I have a writer or if I make up my own material. I always respond by telling them that my life gives me such crazy circumstances to work with that I've never needed to import material.
For instance, there was the time I almost got hit by a truck hauling porta-johns. We can all agree that would have been crappy.
Then there was that visit to Walmart when my cashier rung up my purchase, handed me the bags and announced, "Thanks, babe! Enjoy your toilet brush and peanut butter!" Worst of all? I absent-mindedly replied, "You too."
Apparently, I'm even sleep-texting now. I woke up one morning a few weeks ago and found that I was in the process of sending a message that said "I am grateful for suspenders because they hold old men's pants up." The whole sleep-texting thing is kind of weird, but you have to admit that Subconscious Laine has a point. God bless suspenders.
Even as weird as my life is, I wouldn't change anything about it (except to give myself Bill Gates' financial prowess. I mean, I could use a little help with these student loans). All in all, I'm a very blessed kid. :)