Bird Poop

So, for those of you that don’t know, this summer I am working at a camp for people with disabilities. Everyday, my fellow counselors and I wake up around 6:30 AM and work until 10 PM – without breaks – doing everything you can imagine a person might need done … feeding them, changing them, brushing their teeth, etc. I’ve nearly thrown my back out several times trying to lift a 200 lb camper into bed. The words “diaper” and “bowel movement” have become a regular part of my vocabulary. I’ve seen half a dozen seizures in the past month and also fed a camper through a tube in her stomach. During this past week, I had an unusually violent camper that tried to kill me on more than one occasion. But it’s basically gotten to the point where these things don’t even startle me anymore. I could go on and on about all of the crazy things I have had to do, but I feel like that would be kind of boring.

Needless to say, this job is absolutely exhausting. Once I get off work at night, I can only think about two things – ice cream and sleep. I get internet only once or twice a week and it’s extremely difficult for me to maintain contact with people from home, so I figured I better write at least one blog post to prove I am alive and well. I hope you all are doing well too.

Then I started thinking, what the heck am I going to write about? Should I write about the time a camper started cackling with laughter and speaking gibberish at 1 AM, scaring my co-counselor and I half to death? Or about the time I was sitting with my campers outside when a young boy came up, whipped off his pants, and started peeing everywhere?

Then, like most do, my idea came to me (literally). As I lay in my bed at 10:30 pm, trying to decide what to write, I heard the window behind me start to shake. Before I even had time to react, a bird came flying through the window, inches from my head, and started frantically flying around my room. Of course, three of my roommates were not home and one was in the shower, so I was left alone to scream, cry, and well, panic. (Some background information … I live in an unrenovated house built in 1899 (It’s a national landmark!) with about 20 other girls, only 3 showers, and no air conditioning. Our house has about 15 creepy closets and secret doors and the rumor is that it is haunted. Five girls live in my room; only one is a psycho who leaves her stuff everywhere, likes to walk around naked, and complain about her “boyfriend”. Basically, our living conditions are comically bad.)

I eventually found one girl in my house who was significantly less afraid of birds than I. While I cowered in fear in the corner (I took pictures, coming soon!), she employed various techniques to coax the bird back out the window. We tried whistling, chasing, clapping our hands, turning off the lights … we even tried to use the fan in our room to create a wind tunnel that led directly to the open window. Nothing worked. My other roommate, who was in the shower when this all happened, eventually returned to the room in her towel – but she was also useless because she (like me) was afraid of catching Avian Bird Flu. It took approximately 35 minutes to capture the wild bird. We eventually used the blanket of our psycho roommate (LOL) as a net to smother the little birdie. While the event was extremely traumatizing, it was equally hilarious. Once we got the creature out of the room and things finally settled down, I crawled up to my bed on the top bunk to return to writing my blog post and hopefully fall asleep. That’s when I saw it. Right smack in the middle of my rainbow-striped pillow, inches from my iPod. Bird poop.

According to my roommate, I calmly said “is that s#*%?!” before screaming “OH MY GOD. THAT’S $#!T ON MY PILLOW!” I then proceeded to throw all my bedding on the floor of our room and started pacing back and forth. The bird had been in our room for over half an hour. He/she/it had landed on every single one of our beds. And the ONE place it chose to poop is on MY bed? Awesome. Eventually I ended up sleeping on my towels, with no pillow, because I was too traumatized and tired to do anything else. I had a nightmare about birds.

The bird fiasco basically sums up my experience at my new summer job thus far. Right when you think things are starting to calm down, you find that a bird $#!T on your pillow (It’s a metaphor, get it?). I cannot tell you the number of times I have thought I had everything under control this summer, only to find out that I did something totally wrong and have to re-do it. This summer has definitely been a “you have to be here to understand it” kind of experience. It’s grueling, but it’s also amazing. And it’s made for one heck of a story so far.

Taking A Break

As the school year winds down, I am going to take a brief break from blogging to focus on not-failing my classes, moving out of the dorm (for the last time!), and getting ready to take on a totally-new summer job. The next few weeks are going to be pretty hectic (see below), but I should be back sometime in mid-June.

Until then, click HERE to read a HILARIOUS blog that my friend LD recently discovered. Seriously, it has literally made me laugh out loud in the library... in class... and alone in my room. It should hold your cravings for wittiness until I return.

Blind Date

Have you ever been on a blind date? I only ask because I thought the practice was slowly phased out with the advent of modern technology. Now it’s practically impossible to be set up with someone who hasn’t already peeked at your mutual friends, liked your profile picture and “poked” you on Facebook, or trended you on #Twitter. And when we expose practically everything about ourselves on the Internet, from our activities and interests to our favorite quotes… then there’s really no such thing as a “blind date” anymore, is there? I once had an English teacher who met her husband on Match.com. Before their first actual date, she had a friend at the local police force run a background check on him. Parking tickets. Former jobs. Places of residence. I’d say if anything, she went into that first date knowing more about her date (and future spouse) than most people do by their six-month anniversary. Poor guy.

But, to my surprise, blind dates still happen. Which leads to my next question: Have you ever been on a successful blind date? When my friend from the basketball team and WNBA draft pick (#kindofabigdeal) and I decided to go to trivia night at a local bar last week, we accidentally crashed her sister’s train wreck of a blind date with a nice, quiet boy from the suburbs named Spencer. While we answered trivia questions about the world’s largest sapphire and Madonna’s book collection, the unmistakable “disaster date” dragged on at a small table in the corner. Spencer was hardly remarkable. He likes to run (for charity, presumably). He works in logistics (what does that even mean?), and he loves his dogs (one of which happens to be both blind and deaf). Unfortunately, the excitement of Spencer started and ended with a riveting conversation about the relationship between the handicapped dog and the normal dog. There was no chemistry between him and the basketball player’s sister. And the date finally ended with her saying she was “too afraid to take public transportation after 10 PM” and they scurried off without an exchange of phone numbers.

So this whole experience got me thinking... How many people have found themselves in a terribly uncomfortable situation such as this one? Practically everyone has been on a horrible date at some point in his or her life. Somebody that just makes you want to run out of the bar as fast as humanly possible. (For me, it was a guitar-playing, exotic-beer-drinking, philosophy major who kept mentioning that “music was his true passion.” Gag me.) Of course there are two right ways to end an awful date: be honest about the lack of attraction and end the date early or grit your teeth and tough it out. But where’s the fun in that? I think it’s much more exciting to run the lifeless date further into the ground. That’s why I bring you this:

Ten creative ways to get out of that way-too-long date with that way-too-wrong person that are guaranteed to make you laugh when you tell your friends about it the next morning.

1. Start talking about current events and let it slip that you don't see the big deal about this whole "oil spill thing"

2. Wipe your nose on your date's sleeve. Twice.

3. Mention your quest to be on reality television. When your date asks what show you’d like to be on, say “Either ‘Teen Mom’ or ‘The Biggest Loser’ … depending on how this date goes” And then wink.

4. Discuss the dietary trends, bowel movements, and activity patterns of your cats. All 12 of them.

5. Talk about how prison really changed your life. And not for the better.

6. Bring up your list of most-inspirational people: Elle Woods (from Legally Blonde), Regina George (from Mean Girls), and Snookie (from Jersey Shore). (This one works especially well if you are a guy)

7. Stand up every five minutes and circle the restaurant with your arms outstretched, making airplane noises.

8. Debate any hot-button issue: politics, healthcare, religion. Take both sides.

9. Mention that you also actively maintain a profile on the dating site Meet-Christian-Singles.net … even though you are agnostic.

10. Undress your date. Verbally. Preferably loudly, and in public.

In case you were wondering, we got last place in trivia. Who would’ve thought that the Petrified Forest was in Arizona, not Wyoming. Next time we’re going to make the Director of Basketball Operations come with us.

P.S. Hope you enjoy the new layout. I think I finally found a picture that captures my point of view. Ha. Ha. Ha?

Oh No They Didn't

I have always said that my life is one big joke of failures strung together by my ability to smoothly brush off awkward situations. It all started when I was 5 years old. My brothers ripped their shirts, covered themselves in ketchup, and convinced everyone at my kindergarten birthday party that there was a lion in the woods behind my house. Panic ensued. One girl had an asthma attack. Parents had to be called. The party ended before we could even play pin the tail on the donkey. But I didn’t let that traumatizing afternoon deter me (For the record, I didn’t really even like the kids in my kindergarten class). Starting the following year, I recovered with 4 successful parties in a row at Skateland, the local rollerblading rink (to which neither of my brothers was invited) – and to this day, I pride myself on the ability to throw fantastic parties. Recent themes have included “It Used To Be Cool – the 90s fad party” and “Celebrity Rehab: Amy Winehouse vs. Lindsay Lohan” … My friend once attended a “Daddy/Daughter dance” themed party. (But things took a turn for the worst as it ended up being called the “Pedophiles and Ponytails” party) I consider that a hilarious success in its own way and I plan on throwing one soon.

When I was 13, life threw another curve ball at me… this time attempting to crush my dreams of becoming a superstar. I had convinced my drama teacher that I should be allowed to perform a scene from “The Incredibles” in our spring show because of my striking resemblance to Edna “E” Mode, the fashion designer for superheroes. You can see the scene here. (I know, I was a weird looking kid). Everything was working out perfectly for my acting debut until my superhero costar ate too many Hot Cheetos at lunch and puked all over his costume. He had to borrow my clothes. My mind went completely blank the first time I saw him on stage, wearing my tight-fitting shirt. And there were a few moments of dead silence before I finally remembered my lines; but once again, in the face of adversity, I recovered. The sketch was a hit thanks to my ability to imitate Edna’s unique voice, which was apparently the voice of actor (yes, a man) Brad Bird, as the middle school paper so kindly pointed out the following week in a review of the show.

So here I am. At 19 and 11/12^th years old: a wide-eyed college student and amateur blogger who is fairly confident in her abilities to overcome any awkward situation. As a basketball manager, I often think "well, there is nothing more humiliating than this." But this past weekend I was proven wrong yet again. The world threw a unique set of circumstances at me that even I would struggle to overcome.

You see. There was an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in my hometown last weekend and my college club team was competing in it. As a member of the club ultimate team, I naturally offered up my house for the team (about 20 girls, ages 18-22) to stay at. A home-cooked meal and a real bed is way more luxurious and cheaper than when we pack 8 girls/room at the Super 8 Motel and eat breakfast at Walmart. When I asked my parents for approval, they said that they would be out of town that weekend, but it would be “totally fine” if the team stayed at our house. From that conversation onward, I sparsely spoke with my parents about the weekend … just about menial things like groceries and air mattresses. So you can imagine my surprise when I pulled into my driveway last weekend, with three other vans of girls close behind, to see a strange car parked in my driveway. “Who is this?” I said to my teammates, as we unpacked our bags from the trunk. “Maybe it’s a burglar!” my friend joked. Little did she know, the joke was only beginning.

I opened the back door and then I saw them, the familiar pair of shoes that rested by our back door every single Monday. They were the shoes of our cleaning lady, Barbara, a 60-year old Polish woman who had been cleaning our house for nearly 20 years. I dropped my stuff and ran through the house yelling “Hello? Hello?!” My first thought was that Barbara had been sneaking into our house for years whenever we were out of town, taking bubble baths and throwing parties, and I was excited to catch her in the act. But this idea was quickly shot to hell when I found Barbara sitting on the couch watching coverage of the Royal Wedding in pajamas, eating a takeout pizza. While I was completely surprised to see her in my house on a Friday night, she was completely unsurprised to see me. Barbara barely speaks a word of English, but she was able to fumble out some sentence about being excited to see me, meet my friends, and “babysit.”

That’s right. My parents had secretly hired their almost 20-year-old daughter a babysitter. Barbara awkwardly watched us unpack our bags and get ready for bed, occasionally asking questions as she tried to figure out exactly what sport we played and if she was expected to make us breakfast in the morning. Eventually I convinced her to go upstairs to her room, and the rest of my night was spent explaining to my teammates exactly how crazy my parents are. How doing things like this was normal behavior for my mother, who still gets upset when my 24-year-old brother drinks alcohol. How, while I may have been mischievous in high school, that nothing I did was worthy of this sort of constant supervision.

By the end of the weekend, we had turned the unfortunate “babysitter” situation into a catch phrase. Anytime someone on our team did something stupid, on or off the field, someone else followed up with “… and THAT’s why we need a babysitter!” Girl gets hit in the face with a frisbee? That’s why we need a babysitter. Somebody loses the car keys? That’s why we need a babysitter. Can’t decide what to order for lunch? That’s why we need a babysitter. What began as an extremely unfortunate and embarrassing situation for me ended up being a highlight of the weekend. I took this as a humbling experience. A friendly reminder that every time I find one reason to laugh at another person, I can easily find ten reasons to laugh at myself. As if being a women's basketball manager ever lets me forget that.

Social Hour

Countdown to the end-of-season banquet: 7 days.

Just one week until I get to sit through hours of small talk, long speeches about winning, and awkward encounters like this.









I. Can't. Wait.

Culture-ized

The holy trinity of distractions for any college student. F.Y.R.: Facebook, Youtube, Reality television

People frequently ask me what I do with the free time that is commonly associated with being unemployed. Rekindling old friendships? Focusing on my studies? Am I at least doing something productive? Not quite. Actually, I've been facebook stalking, sifting through thousands of pointless youtube videos, and watching way too much of The Real World. You see. I want all of you, my loyal blog followers, to be on the same page. So I put together a "Best Of The Best" of Pop Culture if you will... Filled with things I love and why I love them. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed "researching" for it.

Facebook Groups I've Strongly Considered Joining:

1. "Yup. I'm a Women's Basketball Manager" The category it falls under is "Just for Fun - Inside Jokes" and the description reads: "A support group for all of the women's basketball managers of the NCAA. Share your stories about life on the road, and anything else related to being a manager. Manager Convention- is currently in process!" I've considered requesting to join, but the group currently has a measly 11 members, half of which probably work for the same school. And I'm a bit bitter that I didn't think of the idea of making a facebook group first.

2. "Getting Nervous At Airport Security Even Though You're Not A Terrorist" After being spoiled with the basketball team's charter flights, I find it very difficult to fly commercial anymore. Last time I flew solo, I tried to bring a water bottle through security. Big mistake. Probably because I'm so used to carrying that 24-pack of water and gatorade onto the plane for the basketball players. (You know, in case they get thirsty on our 45 minute flight to the state-next-door.) The only thing that kept me from joining this group is the fact that the FBI probably monitors every single member because this is exactly the type of group a terrorist would join.

3. "I Love It When Bus Drivers Wave At Each Other" Something about bus driver camaraderie really makes me jealous. I've spent a lot of time with the bus drivers on the road with the basketball team. They always have great stories about the bus driver "brotherhood" that exists out there. Among basketball managers, no such brotherhood exists. There are so many times I want to give an opposing team's manager an "I hate my job" look, but they always avoid eye contact. Starting next season, I'm going to wave obnoxiously at all managers until they acknowledge my presence.

My Favorite Youtube Videos:

1. Ellen Degeneres Scares Taylor Swift I would give anything for a hidden camera and free-reign to hide in the Women's Basketball Office and repeatedly scare the coaches without consequences.

2. You Forgot The Blueberries - For every funny video on youtube, there are 100,000 stupid videos. When I first started watching this one, I really thought it was going to be just like all the other videos that parents post of their kids being "cute." But take my word for it, watch this ALL the way through and you will find yourself laughing (or crying) hysterically.

3. Marcel The Shell With Shoes On - I normally find "cute" youtube videos - like the sneezing panda and the giggling babies - nauseating, but this video is equally cute and hilarious.

Reality Shows I Secretly Love(d):

1. More To Love - If you didn't see this reality show that aired in the summer of 2009, boy, you missed out. More to Love was like the Bachelor, but for fat people. When they weren't busy crying and dealing with their self-esteem issues, the contestants tried and convince 23 yr old, 330 lb bachelor Luke that they had the right junk in their trunk. The best moment of this show came in episode 1 (better known as the fake prom episode that made all the contestants cry about their tormented high school days): when Dani, a contestant, dove into the pool in her black evening gown and other contestants likened the scene to a Shamu exhibit.

2. When I Was 17 - Besides being great for seeing shockingly embarrassing pictures of Jersey Shore's The Situation, this show is perfect for distinguishing which celebrities are interesting and which are not. I firmly believe that most celebrities are no more interesting than say, a basketball manager. And by following them, we are only encouraging more boring, not-funny people to go into showbiz. For example, Snooki was a cheerleader when she was 17 - unremarkable. Khloe Kardashian stole her mom's Range Rover and accidentally caught it on fire when she was 17 - pretty darn interesting. Nick Cannon got fired from his job at Wienerschnitzel Hot Dogs because he would use the drive-thru intercom to tell jokes - interesting AND inspiring.

3. Real Housewives of __________ - New Jersey. Atlanta. New York. Orange County. This series is kind of like semi-sophisticated reality television for grown ups. Critics complain about the lack of morals that the ladies on this show possess, but I've come out of all-day Real Housewives marathons with several life lessons imprinted on my mind. Don't be tardy for the party. Money can't buy you class. And don't get hair extensions if you aren't prepared to have them ripped out in a cat fight. If we all watched this show around Mother's Day, we'd all appreciate our actual moms a little bit more. (For not being psychopaths, that is)

(Thanks to Viktor H at Designers Couch for the logos used in this entry.)

Swagger

(The following post is more of a social commentary than anything else. Now that we are fully immersed in the post-postseason, I have time to write about other things. But don't worry, I still use my experiences as a manager as the basis for everything. And even though my hours have been reduced, my job still sucks. I actually spent last Wednesday faxing transcript requests. For 4 hours straight. With no chair. (anyone that knows me, knows how much I hate standing))

There are two types of people in this world.

Person Type A: (Also known as a P.A.L. - Perfect-at-Lifer) The P.A.L. is the one that everyone wants to be like. They are usually described with one or more of the following adjectives: funny, smart, pretty, talented, awesome. If you have been in the newspaper more times than you can remember, have your own "highlight" video, and/or have your own fan club on facebook - congratulations, you've definitely made it. If people ask you for your autograph, are eager to spend time with you, or write nice things about you on the bathroom walls, that's a pretty good indication that you are in this category.

Person Type B: These are the type of people that spend their whole lives trying to achieve that level of notoriety associated with Person Type A. They may dream big, but they attempt little and achieve even less. They are generally described by the following adjectives: nice, average, boring. I won't go into much detail here, because Person Type B generally knows that they are Person Type B. My pet peeve is people who lack self-esteem. My pet peeve is Person Type B. (DISCLAIMER: There is a subgroup not being discussed here. Person Type B-S: These are the individuals that act like they are "the S#&^" but in fact, they are not.)

Now, I know what you're thinking. How could I simplify the complexity of humankind into just two categories? And furthermore, divide people based on looks and talent? That's just horrible! But I think you're missing the point. I'm not saying you have to be a superstar athlete, a genius, or a movie star to be Person Type A. Sure, it helps. But there is a loophole. The only difference between Person Type A and Person Type B is how they carry themselves. All it takes is the proper amount of confidence. Or, as the kids are calling it these days, "swagger."

To demonstrate my point, I will finally get to the event that inspired this whole post. I recently witnessed a basketball player (under age 21) get into a bar by saying "I'm on the women's basketball team!" Those six short words, delivered with the proper swagger, were enough to get her past the bouncer and onto the dance floor. And to think, the rest of the world has spent time, money, and effort on acquiring fake ID's. Ha! Now, do I actually think she got into the bar because she was on the women's basketball team? No. (Studies have shown that the only people that actually care about women's basketball are ... well, women's basketball players, their immediate family members, and several nursing homes in Indiana.) Do I think she got in for her dance moves? Maybe. The bouncer didn't let this underclassman into the bar because she could make a lay-up or teach him how to dougie, he let her in cause she had enough confidence to demand entrance. And that's exactly the type of person you want in your bar!

So I suggest you follow my lead. I intend to carry myself with the utmost coolness. My autographs will only be on receipts and consent forms. My "highlight" videos are the embarrassing homemade music videos I produce with my friends. Next time I head out on the town, I think I'm going to try "No. I don't have an ID. I'm the women's basketball team manager!" just because I can. And because anything is socially acceptable with enough confidence, right? As perhaps the most famous P.A.L., Beyonce, once sang, "if you got it, flaunt it, boy I know you want it." I firmly believe that we've all got "it", and it's just a matter of how we flaunt it that determines how our life will turn out. And trust me, this is coming from someone whose Mom still cuts clippings out of the newspaper when I place in the Turkey Trot 5K every fall.