My dog is not a Sith Lord

Am I the only person who enjoys walking outside barefoot? I was walking my dog today sans shoes and I kept getting the strangest looks from my neighbors. It’s not like we live in some urban wasteland where the streets are filled with unsterilized needles and used condoms. The worst thing I could step on is a stray piece of gravel. Although, admittedly, I have walked barefoot in city streets, most notably Philadelphia’s Broad Street during a monsoon. Because I’m weird and like walking in the city rain and my feet haven’t felt any pain since I was forced to dance with blocks of wood on my toes for six years.

Besides not feeling pain I also have this abnormally large space between by big toe and the rest of my toes, on both feet. I mean, my feet are small. My toes are freaking miniscule. My nickname in dance was Twinkle Toes. I can’t even paint my pinky toe nail because it doesn’t exist. But anyway, that space is due to the fact that when I sit with my legs crossed on a couch or bed, I rest my entire top foot in between that space. Everyone thinks I’m so weird and gross, but it is so extremely comfortable and cozy.

This post is becoming all about my feet which was never my intention.

May the fourth be with you!

(My excellent method of segway in conversation is to shout-out the topic I desire to talk about. This would make me an excellent presidential candidate during debates.)

Today is Star Wars Day and also, my dog’s birthday. So in avoiding being a real person and unloading the dishwasher/putting on pants/finishing my nutrition project, I decided to have a little fun.

Did you know there are sites with free Stars Wars character printable masks?

This actually is not the first time I have used this service, but we’ll save that story for another time because I’m already turning this into the longest post in the history of time.

I decided it would be adorable to take picture of Kirby in various masks. I decided to go with an Ewok (because he looks exactly like one), Yoda (because he is wise and I like to think he speaks in the same uncompositioned way) and Darth Vader (because he is a little bit evil).

The Darth Vader one dried first, and this is what ensued:

Kirby, come here! I have a birthday treat for you! *Distracts dog with treat as I halfway fasten mask to his bandana*
Successfully attached mask, but the dog is obviously not interested in my tom foolery. Either that, or he does not want people to see his Dark Side. Oh, and at the bottom of this picture you can see part of my small toe. So the first part of this post was actually relevant and not at all rambly.
*Must destroy Dark Forces* I should really consider a career as an action shot photog.
*I haz conquered Sith Lord*. At this point, I attempted to explain how Darth was actually a good guy underneath it all and he saved his son by sacrificing himself, but Kirby was having none of it.
*I can haz treat now?* 

Always keep the curtains closed

During my sophomore year of college, I shared an on-campus apartment with three other girls.  I grew especially close with the girl I shared a bedroom with, Erica, and we quickly developed a slew of inside jokes.  We shared laughs, gallons of Crystal Light, and crushes.

There was this boy who was kind of a campus legend.  I mean, this guy was good-looking. Like the underwear-model, I-want-to-lick-barbeque sauce-off-his-stomach kind of beautiful.

We had decorated our room with funny pictures printed off the internet and decided to photo bomb our window with pictures we stole from this boy’s Facebook. Yes, we were cyberstalkers.  We added pictures of celebs to make it a little more acceptable… shirtless Jack Gyllenhal, Justin Timberlake, and Ryan Reynolds.

As my luck would have it, we ran into this boy and his roommates at a party one night.  I ended up talking to his friend the majority of the night and invited him back to my apartment to watch The Ringer (and for a make-out sesh).

One of my roommates was sleeping on the couch when we came in, so we decided to watch the movie in my room.  We went upstairs and I snuck into the closet to change while he settled in.  Halfway through pulling off my Spanx, I heard him ask “what’s this?”

I figured he was admiring one of my collages and came out to see.

He was standing at the window, staring at the picture of his roommate.  The picture that we had cut him out of.

I ran over and tried to close the curtain to hide the evidence, but it was too late.  He made up an excuse about having to go and pretty much ran out.

The next morning, Erica and I tore down all the pictures and never spoke of it again.

And that’s how cyberstalking cost me my chance at true love.

I just deleted 427 photos.

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook’s timeline. While I think it’s prettttty cool and it’s fun to look back, it reminds me of what a douche I am.

I had to delete a lot of photos.

  • 27 fishy faces
  • Every photo taken within Cornell campus limits
  • Half a dozen photos where I had photoshopped myself into hoodrat situations
  • 12 boob grabbing (mine, others, or both)
  • 6 months’ worth that chronicled my departure into lesbianism (see above)
  • An undisclosed number of myspace angles
  • Anything that was taken in the presence of boxed wine
  • About 100 where I just look really, really terrible
  • 2 years’ worth of various exes
  • Situations where I attempted to impersonate minorities

Just goes to show I have learned a lot in the past 5 years. I almost never make fishy faces anymore.  Almost.