Times When You Shouldn’t Laugh

1. When someone tells you they love you.

2. When you hear about a cat being put down.

3. When you fail a class.

4. When your professor is demonstrating correct classroom policies.

5. When you’re praying at your grandma’s funeral.

6. When someone you hate is laughing.

7. When someone you hate made a good joke.

8. When your best friend is crying.

9. When you’re in a room alone with your thoughts.



Sorry to the four of you who have been diligent in reading all eight of my posts over the last ten days. Remember when I said I was going to write something every single day? I failed so hard it hurts.


But in all honesty, life gets in the way. People die, families come together, jokes save lives.


So I’ll be back more earnestly tomorrow.


If I’m being 100% honest, I woke up at 3am this morning after two full days of either work or putting together Ikea furniture so I NEEDED SOME ME TIME.


Truly can’t promise it will never happen again, but, ya know, I’ll do my best.

Love is precious.

Here’s some absolute truth about life: it ends. It’s amazing and then it’s terrible and then it’s okay and then it’s confusing and then it’s weird.

Life is not the most precious thing we have. If it was, we’d all treat life a little more conservatively. No, love is the most precious thing we have.


I am so thankful to say I have found love all around me. From my family to my friends to strangers to people I don’t care for, I have found love. I see unconditional love in the support and generosity of my parents and siblings. I see undeniable love among my friends who are nowhere near me physically, and yet, make me smile and make life worthwhile every single day. I see unexpected love in the strangers who show a smile or open a door. I see weird love in the people I don’t care for because they remind me of the people I do love.


Here’s the real thing no one tells you about losing people you love–you don’t lose them. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t have my brother or both of my grandpas or now my grandma with me. There’s no way to lose someone who has brought love in your life. Yes, you don’t get to talk to them or see them physically, but I’m a firm believer that people know what we’re thinking or what we mean without having to say it.


That’s love. It’s not having to tell someone exactly how you feel because they know you and know how you’re feeling even before you know how you’re feeling. It’s them making you ice box torte because they knew you were coming over and of course you would want it. It’s cracking a joke just to see you smile. It’s always sending a text to ask if I’m okay even though you know I’m not. It’s knowing that I’m going to say I’m okay when I’m not. It’s knowing the difference between me being okay and not.


There’s plenty of people I love, but few taken it upon themselves to love me so deeply and to treat our love as precious.

Thanks to those people.

Reasons I like going to the movies alone.

Reasons I like going to the movies alone:

1. I go early and sit on my phone so that everyone around me is freaked out and wonders if I will be on my phone during the entire movie.

2. I get to see who else has chosen to see a movie alone.

  • 2a. I get to see if this individual is a man or a woman.
  • 2b. I get to see if this individual happens to be a man.
  • 2c. I get to see if this individual happens to be a man who wears a wedding ring.

3. I sit far enough away from anyone else in the theatre that I do not have to smell anyone else’s smell.

4. I get a full two cup holders to myself and use them both, even if I have no items with me. I just put my hands in there, as suggested by the American Cup Holder Association (ACHA™).

5. I laugh and cry at the previews, which I ordinarily would not do in order to keep the illusion that I am a strong, powerful woman who also happens to have no personal emotions.

6. I feign confidence and wear sweatpants, no make-up, and glasses in order to present the ideal that I am in fact better than you because I am at this movie alone.

  • 6a. It has recently been brought to my attention that this may seem as though I have suffered a loss of some kind whether it be romantic or the like.
  • 6b. I also look like that would never happen, so JOKES ON YOU.

7. I shush those around me who choose to talk during the movie because I am not with another human soul whom I care about.

8. I get matinee prices, because, of course, this movie I am seeing alone is at 10 in the morning.

9. When the trailer for the new Transformers movie comes on, I am allowed to crack a smile.

10. When the trailer for the new inspirational musician movie comes on, I am allow to weep with the fury of a thousand suns.

11. I eat my entire bag of popcorn before the movie even starts because I do not have to save face and pretend as though I’ve had a rule my entire life that we don’t eat the popcorn until the actual movie starts. That’s bullshit. If you do that, it’s dumb, eat your damn treat.

12. When someone spills his or her popcorn or his or her drink, I am allowed to show genuine concern because this individual does not know me as a sarcastic bitch yet.

  • 12a. If this is indeed a “his” popcorn/drink situation, I then can start “on the right foot”, as they say.
  • 12b. If this is unfortunately a “her” popcorn/drink situation, I then can laugh because women are clumsy and dumb, myself included.

13. I receive the jealous looks of men and women there with their significant others who clearly do not want to be there with their significant other.

14. I can put one of the armrests up, should I choose, (due to legal ownership laws, see #4) in order to create a couch-like environment.

15. If I have chosen not to get any popcorn, soda, or candy, I am allowed to silently judge all who are eating like Fatty Fatso’s, because I, on that day, am a confident woman who treats her body as a temple.

16. I am allowed to fully place myself in the shoes of a character and therefore feel as though I have gone to the theatre and left with a steady relationship that has already faced its greatest challenge.

17. I am allowed to spell it “theatre” with no judgements.

18. I am allowed to spell it “theater” with no judgements.

19. I am allowed to try to find a husband.


My friends and I are walking, talking advertisements for the app GroupMe. We should get a minimum 90% commission on whatever money they make because we send no fewer than 150 texts to each other every single day. EVERY DAY. You know how adults think kids are horrible people because they won’t get off their phones or won’t pick up the phone to actually speak to their friends? We are those kids. Today alone, I have sent a Facebook photo I deemed disgusting, a YouTube video I promised to use in a testimony were someone ever put on trial for pedophilia, and I personally attacked my best friend for not leaving his room, though I, myself, had not seen the sun in 20+ hours. We are a loving group to say the least.

If anyone saw any of these texts, we would immediately be sent to a church camp to atone for our sins.

We don’t care.

Here’s the real beauty of GroupMe: Not only does it not clog up my actual text messages, because they are separate notifications, but it also lets you NAME things.

Oh boy, this is the best part. I will absolutely never reveal who holds which name in this group, which is entitled WING NIGHT, since that is how we were brought together–$0.60 wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. By the way, we worked ourselves up to free carrots, celery, ranch, and even valentines. Yes, I still hold my SuperMan valentine from our favorite server Jeremy.

Here are just some of the names we’ve given ourselves. I’m also including some names that are not members of the group, but absolutely should be.

Honey BBQT

Wing of Fire

Sauce Ass Bitch

Wing: Based on the Novel Chicken by Buffalo

wind beneath by WINGS

We 3 Wings of Asian Zing Are

Celery Duff


Lord of the Wings

Hidden Valley Ranch

Kroger Ranch

HP and the Order of the Asian Zing

Buffalo Nickel, Ranch Dressing, Inc.

let freedom WING

Winging on a Prayer

How Do I Get You a Wing

First Wings First

Bring Your Sauce to Work Day

Variations on a Wing

Three-Toed Sauce

Sauce Boss


Matthew Roberts


You decide which ones are real. ; )

The Happiest Place on Earth

I was sixteen when my life did not change at all. I went to an all-girls Catholic high school that had a highly average show choir that only achieved fame within the school walls. One day in rehearsal, our director sat us down and told us we had been presented the opportunity to perform at Disney World—not only would we be performing for thousands of people, but we also got to ride the teacups. To this day I have no idea how or why we were chosen to perform at Disney World, but my sixteen year old self really didn’t care. We rehearsed for the next few months and then finally, the day arrived when the warm, Florida sun would meet us. We boarded the plane along with a local cheerleading squad who may not have had our talents, but had better, more marketable skills. We thought our adventure was about to begin.

Well, the adventure was a bit more underwhelming than any of us had anticipated. It was maybe a high of sixty degrees everyday, so those fleeces we wore on the plane because it was taking off from the climate of a Wisconsin January so beautifully adorned every outfit we would wear that week. We spent about three days going to all the parks and riding all the rides we could, including the teacups. Then, it was the day of the performance, which met the lowest expectations possible: there were about one hundred people in the audience who all yawned and sympathetically clapped every time we hit a final pose. At least that was over. We had one more day to finish up going to all the parks and riding as many rides as possible—I was mostly excited about our trip to Disney’s Hollywood Studios where they were opening a new Toy Story ride, my childhood dream come true. It was there on the final day of our trip, the day when we would be flying back home, where things went from good to great. As we walked down the street passing the passive aggressive characters looking positively withered from their long days of smiling, we happened upon a sign that said, “Auditions Today”. Apparently this show choir of averagely talented Catholic girls had stumbled upon the opening of a new exhibit at Walt Disney World—The American Idol Experience.

The American Idol Experience exhibit was basically a smaller version of the real thing—there were judges in different rooms and each person had the opportunity to sing a verse and a chorus of a popular song; the judges would then pick a few people from the day to sing at shows with three finalists. The winners of the shows throughout the day would go on to a final show where the winner would win an opportunity to audition earlier in the day at a real live American Idol audition. This is all a long-winded way of saying they were hoping to find the best of the average tourists, meaning we were perfectly suited for this kind of exhibit.

We waited in line and all chose the songs from a pre-selected list that we would sing—I chose the stunning “Drops of Jupiter” by Train mostly because the rest of the options were equally average. I waited in line for about twenty minutes before I was finally placed in front of the room in which I would be auditioning. So many things were running through my mind—I was worried we would miss our flight for the evening, I was wondering why my mom had let me wear a Bermuda short with tennis shoes, and I was wondering why I had chosen to skip my morning make-up routine that particular morning. I stood there, with my mom right next to me since she was chaperoning the trip; she now had the opportunity to witness her teenage daughter live out her dreams of beating other tourists in a fake singing competition. I finally was able to step into the room. The judge in the room was extremely nice and asked me some questions about myself before I sang. Finally, it was my chance to sing for him. I sang “Drops of Jupiter” as best as I possibly could, which was not saying a whole lot. To my surprise, the judge said he liked me very much and he would like me to move on to the next round, which meant I would be performing on a stage in front of hundreds of people along with two others chosen. The audience would decide which of the three of us would be moving on to the final round.

I was shocked to be moving to the next round, but more than that, I realized I would not be able to make it to the new Toy Story ride before our flight that night which was the most devastating part of the whole experience. For some reason, I was the only one out of my choir to make it to the next round of the auditions which meant they could go on the ride without me, and they most definitely did—I wouldn’t have skipped it either, so I couldn’t really blame them. My mom stayed with me as I waited for the time of my big performance—I was asked to change my song because another person would be singing “Drops of Jupiter” that day and they liked to have different songs for every performance. I chose Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” because I clearly had a very firm grasp on music that was current at the time.

Each of the smaller shows had three performers and the next step for us was to get our make up done by a professional and we all had the opportunity to meet with a vocal coach. We were allotted ten minutes for each of those sessions, not exactly enough time to accomplish much of anything. Then it was time for the actual performance—my face looked a little better thanks to those ten minutes of professional artistry, but I was still wearing tennis shoes, so there was really no way to avoid everyone knowing I was a tourist from the Midwest. I went backstage and was finally able to meet the other two people with whom I would be performing—one was a girl, also sixteen, who was singing a Taylor Swift song, so we all knew how that was going to go, then there was a woman who was probably mid-forties and she was singing “Walkin’ After Midnight”, the 1950s classic; I still have so much respect for her, even today, this was probably one of the proudest moments of her life. To say we were a motley crew would be an understatement.

The performance started and it was just as I expected, we were all capable of holding a tune, not much more, perhaps a bit less. We all got feedback from three judges who were intentionally bad parodies of the actual American Idol judges—one was a stern British man, another an overly excited petite woman, and an African American man who probably had the most credibility, but we all ignored him anyway. They gave me a little feedback on my performance and I still remember telling the judges that I was there on a trip with my choir; well, being the witty gentleman he was, the British fellow told me he would probably prefer me singing in a big group, a burn that still makes me laugh because it was undeniably true at that time. It was time for the audience to vote now. I guess I had a little bit of an advantage because I came with about twenty other people while the other two only came with their suburban families. For some reason, I won, I am nearly positive that reason was that I made everyone else in the audience feel at home in their Bermuda shorts and tennis shoes.

Because I won the show in which I participated, I was able to move on to the final round which would include the best of the best. The show was to be held at seven o’clock that night. My flight was at 6:30 that night. My choir and I left the exhibit theatre and I was handed a free t-shirt that said “I won!”, even though I would never be able to actually win that day’s real competition. I was also asked to sign one of those character books every child gets—I’m pretty sure this kid’s mother thought I was legitimately a character of some kind because there was a lot of commotion around me and she didn’t want her child to leave without getting every character’s autograph.  I left Orlando, Florida never knowing if I was the best of the tourists that day, and that still haunts my dreams. I still am a bit invalidated, always wondering what could have been. My life could have changed forever, but I had a flight to catch. 

Goals for the Semester (Spring 2011)

I backed up my computer yesterday since I never have and I’ve had it for almost four years now.

I found a note on here from like the first day I had this computer, so I thought I’d share.

It is aptly titled Goals for the Semester:

1. Go to ALL classes unless truly impossible. (You have to be contagious or out of town.)

2. Do ALL homework the same day you are assigned the homework.

3. Do not wait until the night before a test to study or the night before a paper is due to write it.

4. Practice every day, even if only for 20 minutes.

5. Exercise for at least 30 minutes a day. (Even if just a walk or playing Wii Fit.)

6. Eat healthy. (You will be less tired, more energetic, and less lazy if you can do this.)

7. Ask for help if you need it.

8. Talk to people about yourself.

9. Don’t waste time on Netflix if you have something else to do.


I was 18 when I wrote this.