Merry Christmas Benton!

So, I decided to make a cute little stall plaque for the one poor horse (Benton) that lives in the barn by himself. None of the other horses come in at night... so it seems kind of strange to me that MY horse who never comes in has this beautiful little stall plaque that my cousin made for me... but Benton has no such sign on his stall.

Anyway.. I thought that it would be a good idea to make Benton a little sign with his name on it to match Sierra's... How hard could it be? Well, if there is one thing that I should know about myself by now.. it is that I am NOT a perfectionist . . . well . . . at least not when it comes to arts and crafts.

When I finished, I thought it looked pretty good and all . . . but when I took it outside and hung it on Benton's stall, I realized that actually, it looked pretty second rate as long as there was Sierra's to compare it to. Oh well.

So I thought that I would post some pictures so that you can compare and contrast:

Sierra's Plaque:

• Made of nice quality wood
• Wood has been polished and lacquered
  
• Handsome Brass Hangings
• Cute pose for horse
• Name in professional looking letters

Benton's Plaque:

• Made of wood literally pulled out of a dumpster because it was the right size
• Wood has been sloppily sanded to prevent splinters, but not polished or lacquered.
• Handsome nails pounded into the top of the plaque with yarn tied around it for hangings. Works fine now.. but they'll have to CUT that off the stall.
• Horse was in quarter horse pose.. but when compared to the Sierra plaque he just looks sad or lethargic.
• Letters look vaguely like someone printed "BENTON" out of Microsoft Word in Times New Roman font, then traced the letters . . . poorly . . . onto the plaque

Oh well . . . supposedly it is the thought that counts. Hopefully they like it.
Merry Christmas, Benton!

Highlights From Christmas in Iowa

Presents
My brother John gave me a "Make Your Own Murder Scene Kit". It included two kitchen knifes, a box of chalk to with which to make a body outline, and four packets of Wendy's catsup for fake blood. I also managed to get THREE... yes THREE oven mitts.

When we called my Grandparents Cherveny to wish the folks in Minnesota a Merry Christmas, I was asked if I had gotten my Christmas card from Grandma and Grandpa. Well, I had.. but it had been unsigned and without the check that Grandma SWEARS she put in it. HA! She spent the next 10 minutes making everyone in Minnesota check their cards to see if she had put two checks in theirs. Yes, Grandma is starting to show her age. . .


Fun and Games

And finally . . . another Christmas, another messed up game of Balderdash. Why one of our family traditions is to play a game that rewards those who are the best at the B.S? . . . One could not say, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Here are some of my favorite responses from this year's verbal battle:

Q: What does N.A.L.G. stand for?
Mom: The National Association of Gorillas Intellectual.
John: Never Ask Indigenous Giraffes (for directions)
Me: National Amiable League of Garotters

Q: What is the plot of "Beyond the Doors"?
John: A Nuclear power plant lets out radiation which infects a small garden where the vegetables came to life and have to fight off rabbits.

Q: What is the plot of "The Cow"?
Paul: A cow turns into a serial killer in New York City, but manages to escape the local police.

Q: What is the plot of "The Terror of Tiny Town"?
Me: A Christmas Special parody where the elven residents of Tiny Town are attacked by a venomous fanged beast from hell.

Q: In Oklahoma it is still illegal to destroy. . . ?
John: A hornet's nest with your bare hands.
Correct Answer: Another man's melons at night.

Q: What is the plot of "Wild Women of Wongo"?
Dad: Part 7 of the "Girls Gone Wild" series.
Me: In this comical version of an ancient Greek myth, Hercules must travel to the island of Wongo to stop its women from turning into murderous walruses.

Q: Who is Marta Espina?
Correct Answer: 75 year old lady who was accidentally killed by a poodle after it fell out of an apartment balcony and landed on her head.

Q: Who was Max Kiss?
Me: Man who evaded authorities for two weeks after escaping from prison by hiding in a dead moose.
John: ARG! There's a rabid hibiscus plant eating my leg! The pain! The pain! Oh... look.... a nice shiny quarter. (My favorite response of all night)

By the way, when it comes to the game of B.S, I am usually the definitive winner. This game was no different. I wonder what this says about me. . . ?

How to make your very own copy of the world's most ghetto microphone stand in nine easy steps!!

Step One:
Be very very poor and unable to find a microphone stand within your budget. (Under 15 dollars)
Step Two:
Drive to Lowe's and wander around looking for things that you might potentially use for a mic stand.
Step Three:
Settle on a PVC pipe and five gallon bucket.
Step Four:
Cut a PVC pipe sized hole in the bucket.
Step Five:
Stuff PVC pipe and dirty laundry into the bucket. (To prevent the PVC pipe from moving around too much)
Step Six:
Apply Masking Tape to the junction of pipe and bucket.
Step Seven:
Put mic holder into PVC pipe.
Step Eight:
Realize that mic holder is too narrow.
Step Nine:
Wrap the mic holder in a super absorbent "Feminine Napkin" and replace into PVC pipe.

Huzzah! You have just created your very own completely ghetto mic stand! Total cost - six dollars. Total awesome - immeasurable.

Dear Self 1,

Sorry for the Dear John, but Self 2 and I think that it's time that we parted ways. Self 2 and I have been doing fine on our own without you - and in fact, we have been realizing more and more how much you are getting in the way of our success and happiness.
We thank you for all the good times that we've had. Well actually, now that I think about it, we really haven't had any "Good Times". All of our "times" have been at our expense! You know, the preventing us from playing the trombone well with your incessant prattle ("Don't screw up! Don't be distracted!") - the telling us that we don't really have any friends - the telling us that we are pretty much doing nothing of any value on a day to day basis. You know, although in some of these instances you are probably right, it doesn't mean that we want to hear about it nonstop all day long. It prevents Self 2 and I from doing anything useful or meaningful when you start your inane yakking. It prevents us from getting a full nights rest because you won't even shut up at night - and we've had it!
Self 2 has been feeling especially put off by you. She tries so hard to just do what she is good at. But it's kind of hard for her to do anything right with you looking over her shoulder and shouting the wrong commands at the top your lungs. She is afraid that you make her look bad. And she's right, you make us BOTH look bad. That's just annoying, OK?
So in conclusion, we think that's it's best that we just go our separate ways like responsible adults. That is why Self 2 and I have filed for a divorce from you. We are filing under "irreconcilable differences". You can still have custody of the cat every other weekend if you so choose.

Cordially,
Apkiwa and Self 2

What is this even supposed to stand for? Rotten Bench? Rotund Bunch? Why bother?

Drivers I encountered today on an Indiana freeway:

• The person with no driving skills who is only alive because of the good driving skills (and graces) of those around him.
• The "perpetually adjusting the radio or dialing the cell phone and diving into your lane" person.
• The road hog
• The "I'm going to tailgate you for 20 miles for no apparent reason - even though I can go around you" person.
• The ever professional person who is driving a limo all the way from Indianapolis to Bloomington like they could be sued at any moment. A note to whoever was riding in the limo - In case you were unaware, limos are really worthless displays of supposed wealth - especially when it's a crappy one. Are you trying to prove and/or compensate for something? Congrats man, I'll take a car - thanks.
  
• The Ford Windstar that speeds and rides your tail until you get out of the way. Upon further inspection, you realize that this is because they have 4 unruly kids in the back seat who refuse to be entertained by the DVD player.
• The "I am old and thus must drive 30 miles an hour in a 70 mile an hour zone and cause people to almost crash into me" person.
• The traffic weaver who is not happy with going 10 miles an hour over the speed limit like everyone else. Therefore, he MUST endanger the lives of everyone by squeezing his sport car into barely sport car fitting places. Inappropriate!! You are NOT a NASCAR driver, buddy. Really.
• The sports fan coming home from watching some game or another - holding a flag out the window and sticking his head out into oncoming traffic. Safe.
• Random speed man.
• Random crazy aggressive driving man - who comes up on you really quickly from behind, and then cuts a few cars off desperately trying not to crash into you (who are going 10 over the speed limit already). After cutting everyone off, honking, flipping people off and throwing a milkshake out the window at a poor sap who got into the way (causing a whole new danger as it hit the windshield) - he slows down to about five UNDER the speed limit, and everyone has to pass him again. Woah.

In summary - I really don't like driving. Well, actually, I don't like OTHER people driving. I would be totally cool with driving if no one else was ever on the road!

List of things that I am currently dissatisfied with:

• Those tiny little purse umbrellas - cute, but ultimately not going to keep you dry.
• The color black - I have and wear WAY too much of it.
• Skirts that are supposed to touch the ground but don't if you are six feet tall.
  
• 2 inch heels - ouch.
• Why are people still wearing those stupid ugly boots?
• Spandex - is kind only to small Asian girls.
• Hollywood - obsessed with sex
  
• Pop music - obsessed with sex
  
• Pop Culture - obsessed with sex
  
• Non-stick cookware that doesn't work - no! my beautiful brownies!
  
• Scientology - WTF?
• Halibut steaks
• Gas - both the kind my car eats and the kind that I have.
• Old tooley pickups that only sort of run
• Fast food
  

Things I am currently in love with:

• John Stewart
• Steven Colbert
• Brownies
• Curry
• Bollywood
• Ambivalence
• Tea
• The color orange
• The color purple
• Hippos, penguins and aardvarks
• Blogging
• Arby's Chicken Salad (only fast food exception)
• Goldfish crackers in your salad - completely and totally awesome.
  

Have you ever watched a standup comic and thought - how on earth does this guy make a living? Whenever I watch a television broadcast of a standup comic, I always wonder why the people in the audience are actually laughing. Why? It's not really funny. It's not intelligent. It's not even remotely amusing. Are they getting paid to laugh? You would have to pay me pretty well to not go do something better with my time.

Another thought - why do comics who are inherently unfunny resort to more and more offensive jokes? Is it because they are trying to blackmail their audience into laughing? No one wants to look like the only closed minded fool in the audience, so everyone at these shows is always chuckling tentatively and looking around to make sure that everyone else is doing the same thing. Besides, apparently if you are doing stand up comedy - it gives you license to say whatever the hell you want - because is "JUST a joke - jeez, lighten up"
I love those stand-up routines that are just a two hour rantfest. You know, I have those all of the time - and I don't even charge admission!

I was driving back from Louisville last night when a thought struck me. (Almost literally.) Why do people who are driving semi trucks with trailers containing flammable liquids uniformly drive like jerks? Are they blissfully unaware that if they crash into me (or anyone else for that matter) that everyone is going to die? Furthermore, why do other motorists tailgate these guys? First of all, if the truck driver needed to break quickly everyone is going to die. Secondly, since the person who is driving the flammable liquids truck is driving like a jerk, he or she is about 80 billion times more likely to need to slam on the breaks. Death is imminent.

Do you ever get the irresistible urge to go jumping through puddles on a rainy day only to remember that you are dressed in concert black and heading towards a performance? I do. It's too bad. Really.

Have you ever hung around with or dated a guy (or gal, I suppose) who said your name incessantly? Like it was some sort of weird drug or aphrodisiac just to recite your name over and over? Or perhaps they just say your name over and over to get your attention while you are trying to convey your thoughts to them - because they really aren't interested in your point of view?

It's kind of weird.

I know a few guys like this. This is how a conversation with them goes:

Me: "You know, I really didn't like it when you grabbed my ass just now. It's kind of . . .
Them: "Jen"
Me: "um . . . degrading, you know? Especially since . . ."
Them: "Jen, Jen!"
Me: "I didn't really give you permission to touch . . ."
Them: "JEN! JEN! JEN!"
Me: " . . . um, yeah . . .me at all."
Them: "Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen"
Me: "umm, YEEESSS??"
Them: "Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen - You are sexy."
Me: "Ok, that's it - I'm out."

You know what I really hate? Supposed "Freeware" programs that are just trial versions - only you didn't know that until you wasted your time downloading them.
Also - programs that fall under the above-mentioned category that suck. Why waste your money on something that sucks?

So . . .
I keep on swearing that I'm going to stop converting records into CDs for people for a job - but for whatever reason I keep agreeing to do it. I think that deep down, I must be a masochist who is hiding under the guise of a really helpful person.
Just to fill you in - converting records to CDs is a MAJOR pain in the butt. First of all, you have to sit and wait for the whole record to play in real time to record it. Then, if you are trying to do a good (or even a decent job), you have to edit out the pops and clicks and whistles and such forth. Depending on the condition of the record, this could be really easy - or terribly time consuming.
Current record for number of click removed from one side of a record - 107,892.
Yeah. So, it takes awhile. And that is if your equipment is working properly - which in my experience is rather rare.
Everytime after I finish an order from someone I swear that I'm going to quit doing this. But then, inevitably I will get drawn back into it because for whatever reason, my brain does not seem to remember it being as annoying as it really was. This is quickly rectified when I actually start the process again.
As you may have guessed, I am currently converting some records onto CDs. Blaaargh!

Currently, I should be doing my homework. I realize this, but it does not mean that I particularly care.
When I started this blog yesterday, I thought that it would be a great tool for letting my family and friends know what I am doing. However, I am already noticing it's amazing potential as a procrastination aid so that I can not do the things that I really should be doing.
Since I can't afford cable TV, I have to draw my time frittering techniques from alternative sources.
Here is a list of current idling activities that I engage in instead of doing my homework:

• Zelda
• Smash Brothers
• Making clothes (a note on this subject - I never tend to make clothes when I NEED clothes - only when I have a paper that is due)
• Geocaching
• Brushing and braiding my horse's mane and tail
• Watching random things on the internet.
  
• BUYING random things on the internet.
• Posting random things on the internet.
• Sitting on the couch staring aimlessly at the wall.
  

Ah yes. What a full life I lead.

I hate spiders. So I just squished the 3rd spider that I've seen in my house today, and I was thinking to myself, "self, why the hell did you move into a barn if you don't like spiders?". Having to deal with spiders has long been one of my least favorite horse-related activities, so I'm pretty perplexed as to why it never occured to me that I would have to deal with this sort of thing in my apartment.
I know, I know. It's a "girly" thing to be afraid of spiders. Well, let's just get one thing straight. It's not that I'm afraid of spiders - it's just that I intensely HATE them. I would be ok with them if they just sat in their little corner minding their own buisness and doing the bug eating thing. That's cool. That's TOTALLY cool.
No, my hatred of spiders comes from a personal space issue. I don't like it when spiders feel the need to be on my person. EXCUSE ME, I believe that is MY arm. I did not give you permission to be on my arm. . .
Anyway, this apartment has played temporary host to a cornicopia of different sized and shaped spiders - from the huge discusting hairy one that Hildegard killed (Praise GOD) two weeks ago to the little tiny guy that I just squished as he ran across my keyboard. They have been in my shoes, in my car and on my face when I wake up. I HATE SPIDERS.
The worst part of all of this, is that I never feel like I can actually KILL the spiders in good concious. I always feel so bad! If I had a more heroic or in general brave nature, perhaps I would carry them outside on a piece of paper. I tried that once. It ran up my arm and I had to squish it.
So any and all spiders out there, consider this your offical notice - If you come into my house, I WILL have to squish you. I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. Well, ok, really I do - but I don't LIKE them. This will hurt me more than it hurts you. Really.