Why I am a total baby.

I should spark an interesting, debatable conversation more often! There were all those blog commenters I've missed hearing from as of late. As always, I loved reading what you had to say on the topic of hurtful negative feedback/hate comments. It sounds like most people don't actually have a ton of experience with it, but hate seeing it on other people's videos. And a lot of you told me you're part of the army of people who mark hate comments as spam whenever you see them, so I want to personally thank everyone who does that.

I left that out of my entry yesterday; one of the biggest reasons I can easily ignore mean comments is because so many nice people weed them out for me before I even get to my videos. Knowing I have that many people looking out for me definitely eases the blow of a negative comment considerably.

But today's entry is not about hate comments. It's about dish rags. And how much I hate my roommate today.

Okay, I'll admit it. The other day I watched a lot of Buffy, so walking around my big, darkened house was making me a little jumpy. It's creaky, and old, so lots of things make noises at night when the house is settling (that's what I tell myself at least). What this really translates to is that there are lots of places for vampires to hide.

In between episodes I was thirsty, so I headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink while Justin ran upstairs to use the bathroom. I'm a big girl so I didn't bother turning the lights on; I was just using the light of the refrigerator to find my way around. All at once though, I heard a strange noise above me (the bathroom is directly above where I was standing and Justin must have dropped something - but I didn't know that at the time because it sounded like it was in the room with me) so I jumped, and then I looked all around to make sure there was nothing in the kitchen with me, and then I saw this THING on the ground that I knew was out of place, so I slammed the fridge shut and jumped again, and maybe a little squeal escaped my lips. Maybe.

I turned on the light, and there lying on the floor where I thought my attacker had been was a defenseless pink dish rag. Yes. I was scared of a dish rag. I laughed it off, but then made the grave mistake of telling Justin what had happened.

Before I explain why I hate him so much today, I need a little more back story on why I am so afraid of vampires right now. I have spent the better part of the weekend watching Buffy slay demon after demon, and then last night I went to go see Eclipse with Eia and Ariana. Not that Eclipse is scary in any way, but it does involve attacks by rabid newborns in Seattle, Washington. So when the three of us were all standing outside the theatre afterward the movie, talking and hanging out, I kept feeling like people were looking at us funny (sizing us up for their next meal, probably).

This one girl walked particularly close to us and gave me a weird look (I said to Eia, "did you see how she looked at us? She looked at us funny, I know it") and before Eia could shrug me off, the girl crossed the street to the parking lot, but instead of walking around to the entrance, she CLIMBED THE WALL. She climbed the wall, guys. That's not normal. Total vampire.

So anyway, yes, scary things make me jumpy, and I have watched a lot of vampire shows recently. So I was nervous. And I mistakenly told Justin about the wall-climber, too. So this morning, I woke up and groggily rolled out of bed to head over to the bathroom. I opened my door, rubbing my eyes, and nearly screamed as my vision came into focus.

Justin had tied the same pink offending dishrag to a telephone cord and hung it from the ceiling. Right in front of my door. Albeit, a dishrag hanging from a ceiling is not very scary in itself, but when it's the first thing you see in the morning, and you almost walk into it, and you're already a little jumpy anyway: scary.


So anyway. This was a really long-winded method of saying that I am a total baby.

Last google search: "dictionary definition of juice"
Chipotle burritos: 16