medium – Page 23 – The only certainty is bad grammar

Getting in the mood

Published: May 4, 2010 / Updated: May 5, 2010 Crystal feminism?, humor, im cool, medium, random thoughts

OMG guys, where the heck have I BEEN?

I’ll tell you where. Social City. That stupid Facebook game is like some sort of social media crack poured on my laptop each day. I obsessively check it as soon as I boot up and then, by the time I clean my factories, build a new car dealership and fire the lifeguard at the city pool, I’m all computerd out and then I don’t blog.

I’m sorry.

I’m joining a support group though. The people seem really nice and they keep saying that I can solve all this with something called Farmville.

Speaking of Facebook, can you people please like me?? I takes less than a second to click my shiny, new, state-of-the art “Like” button at the bottom of my posts and it would make me so very happy.

So please, for me?

Moving on.

It’s SUMMER! (Ish) (Today) (Weather subject to change tomorrow).

It’s finally nice outside and instead of trying to hide my purple finger nails because I’m oddly colder than everyone else around me (true story), I finally get to be the one at a normal temperature while everyone else sweats too much and my company waits to turn on the air conditioner.

YAY!

I’m so happy it’s summer that I wouldn’t even mind a little sunburn right now just to get in the mood.

Speaking of getting in the mood, dating life still sucks here folks.

I really like the 22-year-old, but he keeps being 22, so then I have to get mad because, for real, you can’t even make solid plans once buddy? Once?

Soooo, then I try to date other boys, but well, at the clubs all the cute ones are umm, 22 and that age doesn’t work so well for me. Then, I try to meet boys online, but that means I have to write all these e-mails and it’s so tedious and for all I know the guy on the other end is actually a 290-pound 12-year-old girl who lives in Alaska, so then I question whether it’s worth the effort and ya, I’m home alone tonight. The end.

I’m sure I just haven’t met him yet, as Michael Buble would say. But any day now would work for me God. Any. Day. Now.

In unrelated news, I think I’m going to dye my hair dark brown with honey highlights. This neon blonde is too hard to maintain, and it washes me out like I’m Tide unless I get a spray tan, which I think a lot of people think is weird.

I’m not 100 percent on the dark-brown thing, but assuming the stylist I eventually see when I eventually get money doesn’t think that will eventually make my hair fall out, I’m probably going to get aboard the brunette train for awhile. Do you think I’ll still have fun?

Serious question.

Body paint

Published: April 18, 2010 / Updated: April 18, 2010 Crystal feminism?, humor, im cool, medium

I got a spray tan and I love it with all my heart, and my Barbie blonde hair no longer makes me look sickly, and even my feet are tan, and it’s so glorious.

The money was from when I won my NCAA bracket at work (Holla!).

I can’t get real tans because A. They give you skin cancer and then you die, and B. I only burn. Like red as Rudolph’s nose on a tomato, carried by Clifford on a fire truck-burn. So even if I tried to use the sun, it wouldn’t work.

For those who are either A. Black, B. Mexican or C. A boy, spray tans basically: cost a lot of money, ($30), last for 8 to 10 days (5), and have about a 10 percent chance of making you look either orange or 10 pounds skinner (Luckily, I do not look orange). (At least, I don’t think I do). (Wait, do I? Do I look orange? Frick. I probably look orange? This lighting sucks).

To get the tan, you stand naked (yes, naked) in a chamber that’s kind of like an upright CAT Scan Tube and a man from space comes on the speaker and counts down.

“FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE”

And then you’re blasted with a cold, wet spray for about seven seconds. You then get five more seconds to turn around so the tube can do your back.

You have to make sure to hold your arms out like your carrying a gallon of paint in each hand otherwise you’ll have half-tan arms that look like you laid out in the sun with your palms glued to your hip bones.

Then, you get out of the chamber and try to dry yourself off without wiping anything at all, ever or the whole thing could make your an orange zebra.

Over the next three to five hours you gradually get darker and darker and darker and it’s kind of weird, because people want so bad to assume it’s a real tan, but they know in their hearts that nobody tans under florescent lights, so it must be some sort of paint and that’s just awkward.

Then they try to ask you about it, thinking maybe you just went to Florida between getting off work Wednesday and coming into work Thursday, all, ‘You look like you got some sun?’

You can say, “Yes.” And then walk away.

But, I’m too open to do that, so I’m always, “NO! I just got a spray tan! Isn’t it AWESOME? Look, look at my wrist! You can see the part where it got messed up.”

And then they give me sad look that says, “Oh, Crystal. It’s so sad that you can’t tan in the sun” and walk away.

But I know I look awesome (and humble), so I don’t even care.

I wish could afford to get one every week though. For now, I just have to make this last as long as possible, which basically means no exfoliating at all, and no washing my face, and as few showers as possible. (Yes I went there. Yes it’s true).

The most important sales pitch

Published: April 16, 2010 / Updated: April 16, 2010 Crystal god, humor, medium, Wow

I’m a little worried that I’m better at selling Google than I am at selling God.

With Google, I’m all, “OMG! How are you NOT on Google Voice? The product will change your life right this instant and all you have to do is nothing. That’s IT. And then you can screen calls, READ your voice mail. (True story. You can READ your voice mail. How are you doing this yet??), and listen to people leaving you a voice mail WHILE they leave it. It’s just like in the olden days when people had answering machines! Fan-tastic.”

Or, I’m all “Get on Google Documents right now. First, it converts files to things you can actually open on a Mac. Second, it converts anything to a PDF for free. Third, you can let other people make edits on anything. And fourth, you can open your documents anywhere. Even the moon!!”

But when it comes to God, I’m just like “I love him. You should too. The end.”

I think it’s because when I try to sell people on Google, and they say “You’re a stupid idiot head and you suck and I’ll never use it ever, even if it would save the earth from an attack of giant alien mosquitoes who shoot gasoline out of their noses and take all the cute guys.” I can be all, “Your loss.” And go on my merry way.

But when someone responds like that after I tell them about God, I’m all, “Crap. Now you’re going to go to hell. Crap. Crap. Crap. (Heavy, depressing sigh). Are you sure you don’t just want to try going to church? No. Really? Not even with the attacking mosquitoes and stuff? Oh. OK. Well, I’ll ask again tomorrow then I guess.”

Except, well, I usually don’t ask again tomorrow.

The rejection is too much to take, so I end up going on my merry way. But with this, it’s my loss because I really believe that the person won’t be there in heaven with me when I die.

And that sucks.

A lot.

So I need to get better at pitching God.

This blog post is my first step I think.

I’d like to say that it will be followed by a one-on-one invite from me to ask you to come to church, where I’m all, “God is so freaking awesome. How are you not Christian like yesterday? First off, he’s free. Free-er than Google! Second, he helps you with every single problem ever. Third, he loves you. Fourth, he believes in you. Fifth, he comes with some really great music. And Sixth, you can talk to him anywhere! Even in your bedroom, when you’re alone under the covers and scared and panicked and crying and you don’t see a way out. Even there!”

I’d like to say I’d have that conversation with you, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen this week.

I’m scared to ask you. I’m scared you’ll look at me like I’m a stupid idiot head.

But you should know that I pray for you every night.

Every.

Single.

Night.

Also, you should know that my church (The Woodstock First United Methodist Church, 201 W. South St.) is having a faith and praise worship Saturday at 5 p.m. It’s like one hour of your life. That’s it. And I promise you won’t regret it. All you have to do is show up. And if you have any questions, just come up to me and be all, “Hey Crystal, what’s the Saturday-night church thing about?” and we’ll go from there.

And maybe next month I’ll get up the courage to just ask you in person. (That’s another thing I pray for every single night).