Netflix is great for when you want to laze around on the computer and need something on in the background. Plus you usually end up watching something really random, like a documentary on rice paddies in China, or a ridiculous 80's movie like Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, or Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead.

The latter movie is a documentary about this Australian guy who is overweight and unhealthy, and drinks solely vegetable/fruit smoothies for 60 days and gets his health back. It's a pretty decent documentary, and he says "Hold onto your pineapples!" when he's about to announce something exciting, so honestly, if that doesn't make you want to watch it, I don't know what will!

Aside from my marshmallow addiction, I generally eat healthy things. But most of the food in my cupboards, even if it's organic, is still processed. I need fruits! and veggies!

So I was watching this documentary, right, and I was laying on my bed eating knock-off Doritos (organic!) and balls of raw cookie dough (it was ORGANIC!), and I said right then and there, I said, I have to eat more plants!

In the documentary there's this little cartoon of these sad, sickly little cells being tortured by robots called "AUTOIMMUNE DISEASE" and stuff. And then the person starts eating fruits and vegetables, and these antioxidant/micronutrient fighter robots come in and defeat the baddies. And then the cells are happy and healthy again! After seeing that, heck yeah I want that happening in my body!

I may or may not have had this juice for a liiiittle too long. Rubber gripper thingy to the rescue!

Lunch. Baby Romaine, grape tomatoes, carrots, sunflower seeds, "Cowgirl Ranch" dressing (gotta represent my Texas roots...), raspberries, blueberry minions with His Royal Highness King Giant Blueberry in the top right corner of the box, banana, and vegetable juice in a beer glass.


Update: You couldn't see the sheer majesty of King Giant Blueberry so here's an up close pic. Yes, he's on a raspberry throne and he has some little berries fanning him with fronds. ...What else are you gonna do when you are eating a big salad?

Braces.

Welp, it's official...I have braces.

I've always looked younger than my age, and even now, as a 24-year-old college graduate, people still ask me what high school I go to. And now, as a metal mouth, I truly look like a dorky 17-year-old.

There was only one thing written in the square of Monday, February 28th on my calendar: "9:40 BRACES" circled three or four times for dramatic effect. I woke up that morning to the smacking of fat, heavy raindrops outside, groaned, and rolled over to check my phone for the time. Still time to go back to sleep! Oh wait, I have an e-mail. I'll just check it really quick. From my bank. ...They need my approval? ...Potential fraudulent charges?! ...OVER A THOUSAND DOLLARS?!?!

Awesome!! I threw on some clothes, flossed, ran to get my purse, and checked my phone again in the whirlwind before I left for the bank. My roommate had sent me a text to take the dog out before I left.

I stood in the rain, my heart pounding from the hurry to leave, my mind racing and my nerves bouncing around. Tucker also just stood there, confused as to why he had to be outside when things were unpleasantly wet. He slowly ambled through the grass, tenderly placing his paws in the mud puddles. No, that wasn't the right spot. He walked over by a tree and thought about going, but didn't. Finally, the planets aligned and his spot had been chosen, and he went.

Aaaand back to rushing to the bank! Got everything squared away, and headed to the orthodontist in the pouring rain, hating the soul that decided to use my measly funds to pay for their $300 Sephora shopping spree. I was so caught up in mean thoughts that I completely forgot to be nervous about braces, but was completely reminded once I laid back in the chair and had this ridiculous contraption in my mouth to keep it open.

In the cubicle next to mine, I heard the assistant terrify a kid by explaining what happens when you don't brush your teeth when you have braces. He already sounded scared from seeing the picture she must have been showing him, and then she was all, "And then your teeth get stained, and then you get lots of cavities, and THEN you have to get a SHOT! In the MOUTH!"

As shameful ugliness in the form of metal was attached to my teeth, I realized that the palm tree in the corner of the cubicle with the fake coconut and stuffed monkey hanging down wasn't there just for the kids. I had made fun of it in my head earlier, thinking some mature, respectable looking ficus would look better, but nothing bad can happen to you in a room with a palm tree and a cute plush monkey, right?

I avoided any and all mirrors at first, and didn't take a good look at myself until I was downtown at Nordstrom Rack. A couple of my friends advised that I should treat myself to shopping for the rest of the day, and who was I to refuse such a thing? Losing every bit of your self-confidence in the Nordstrom Rack restroom mirror is exactly how it sounds: L-A-M-E. Then you find yourself wandering around Forever21, trying to find a secret corner to take a quick picture of yourself to send to your mother, who just HAS to see how her Sweet Pea looks with braces. Then you go to H&M and try on SUPER sexy black strappy heels, and you feel so good you smile at yourself in the fitting room mirror. Oops, that little bit of self-confidence you had goin' there for a second just flitted away. But you buy those shoes because after all, they ARE cheap and you can keep your mouth closed for 20 months, right?

19 months, 30 days and counting.

The New Year and a Deer

My best friend Erik and I are kind of lame. At about 7 o'clock on New Year's Eve, he texts me, "Wanna hang out?" And then we decide we should probably do something since it's New Year's Eve, after all. We planned to go to the movies! And one movie ended 8 minutes before midnight! But those plans crumbled and turned into Red Box. Which eroded into watching Tosh.0 and snarfing popcorn, and then looking over at the clock at 12:01 and raising our arms and being all, "Happy New Year!" and then turning back to Tosh.0.

But we did light off a wish lantern, which was awesome except one rude gust of wind collapsed it a bit and the candle inside burned a hole through the paper. And then it floated sideways for a bit, then died in some blackberry brambles (which are very flammable, said a worried ex-volunteer firefighter Erik). (No, we did not burn Beaverton down.) I made a very important wish on that dang thing, and it dies in some brambles? What the heck does that mean for my wish?! Very rude.

The next day, I started off 2011 by working on car parts and going to the tool store. Erik had to fix the control arms (I am pretty fancy with all this car lingo) of his old Camaro, and also needed an excuse to use his new 20-ton shop press. That is what he bought on our last trip to the tool store, instead of something normal, like a drill bit or a hammer. Our trips to the tool store are usually never normal though. Who walks in and demands a 20-ton shop press and a 1-lb anvil?! Oh yeah...us.

But my anvil is cute!


So anyway, we went to Lowe's on New Year's Day, Erik's eyes glazed over in the "TOOL WORLD" section, we spent way too much time in the nuts, bolts, and washer aisle, I did NOT get to go to the home decor section despite multiple pleadings, and then I saw this, which is basically the reason for this post.

It is a crazy deer on a package for deer/mole/squirrel deterrent.

I laughed so hard when I saw this deer.

WHY DOES HE HAVE FANGS?!

I just love that the packaging artist decided to depict deer as these horrible, raging yard monsters that have canine teeth and will attack you and maul you in your sleep.

Wild Nights

My roommate Amanda and I can get pretty crazy, so I'm going to tell you about our wild night tonight. Chugging! Drugs and peer pressure! Going out on the town! Try to keep up.

Part I. Drinking
Well, the REAL drinking was Amanda's one classy glass of red wine. But we are also retardedly fond of olives, and we each had our own can to snack on while we were being lazy on the couch. At her last few olives, Amanda just tipped the can back and, well, chugged the olives. Then we clicked our olive cans together and said CHEERS! And then felt a little ridiculous about our olive habit.Part II. Drugs
Speaking of habits, Amanda kind of has a thing for salt and vinegar Kettle chips. And by a "thing," I mean give her ten minutes and the entire bag is gone. But before the bag disappeared, this is what happened. (The Amanda parts are italicized because I think it makes her sound more evil and peer-pressure-y.)

Amanda: Hey do you want some?
Me: Oh um, I haven't actually tried those before.
Amanda: WHAT?! Oh they are soooo good!! Here, try one!
Me: Hmm, ok. (Then there's some crunching and a lot of bad facial expressions and twitching from the sourness) UGHHH these are WEIRD!
Amanda: Aren't they gooood?
Me: Wow, I am salivating so much! I can feel it in the back of my jaw! Ugh wow, I can really feel it now.
Amanda: Here, take some more. You'll like them once you get used to it.
Me: (still twitching and making lemon faces) Ok, I guess...

Clearly, peer pressure at its worst.

Part III. Going out
Amanda and I got hungry later in the evening, so we finally got up from the couch, put on our sassy coats, and headed to Fred Meyer's. Beaverton, watch out!! We ended up buying some ice cream. And some ingredients for soup.

We also came across some pretty intense ice cream. Here we have your run-of-the-mill Denali Moose Tracks.
Then they added some brownie in the Moose Tracks.


Then it got a little intense in the next freezer door over with Denali Extreme Moose Tracks.


But, it's not a party without Denali EXTREME MAXIMUM FUDGE MOOSE TRACKS!!!!


The soundtrack to the night was Aaron Carter in the car on the way to Fred Meyer's (I don't even know. Ask Amanda why...), the Bed Intruder song, and the Backin' Up song. We watched half of Robin Hood: Men In Tights, I realized my hair smells like marshmallows which probably means I should lay off the marshmallows, Amanda's lab Tucker gave us lots of disgruntled looks when we laughed too loud, and then we went to bed at midnight.

Scene.

Interning at the Zoo

These are the reasons why I love my internship at the zoo (even though it's mostly just a desk job and not nearly as cool as actually working with the animals):

1. You can walk around the zoo when you're tired of sitting at your desk, and you can watch lazy otters being lazy.

2. You get to text pictures of tigers to your roommate because of stupid inside jokes.

...Oh, you want to be in on it too? Well basically, I came across this Craigslist ad this doofy girl wrote and she explained how she and her sister have loved tigers all their lives, and they know that people who work with tigers have zoology degrees but if there's anyone with tigers in the Portland area, please contact them because they love tigers sooo much and really really want to work with them. And then she posted a goofy picture of herself (as if that adds something to her post), and the caption was "I'm the one in blue" and it was a picture of TWO GIRLS IN THE SAME BLUE SHIRT. So now whenever my roommate and I see anything with tigers we're like, "I love tigerrrrs" in the dorkiest breathy voice we can muster.

3. You get a discount at the souvenir store so you get a sweet deal on a box of fossilized dino crap for your special someone. Hello, awesome stocking stuffer! (I'm sorry I don't have a picture, but just imagine a nice looking bunch of polished agates that you can give to some unsuspecting person).


4. You get to pass by the case of animal skeletons every day, like this huge giraffe skull. My my, sir, what lovely ossicones you have (er, had).


5. Your desk area comes complete with awesome wolf decor. Sometimes you just know you fit in somewhere. (No, I do not have anything resembling those ridiculous Native American wolf t-shirts at cheesy mall kiosks.)

(Doesn't mean I don't want one.)

(But only for a night shirt...)


6. It's just a quick 10-minute trip on the light rail, which I can easily estimate the arrival time of according to how windy it is in the tunnel. 5 minutes waiting time = no wind at all. 1 minute waiting time = there goes your good hair day. 2 seconds waiting time = your face is composed mostly of hair and lip gloss.
Someone wrote "I hear you" on the other side of the tunnel wall. I am not sure why this is relevant.

While you listen to the light rail moan and bluster its way down the tunnel, you can contemplate things like, "How is lava EVER boring?" But it IS in a tube all cooled down, so I guess that makes sense. And then the light rail comes bursting out of the tunnel like a caterpillar out of hell and you get to enjoy making mean faces at people who let their bag hog up an entire seat to itself while everyone else has to stand.

7. Looking at pictures like this won't get you weird looks around the office.Look at him, trying to look all fierce with his claws! I can't even stand it!


8. Work e-mails include the most random updates on the animals. Like how the male leopard's first day on exhibit was: he sprayed a tree and then ate some leaves. Then he met his future girlfriend through some mesh and they hissed at each other. So then he went and ate some meat (what a guy). And the condors are flirting! And the caracals got turkey pinatas (?!) and one tried to hunt it and bite it on the back of the neck. And oh, those mountain goats! The male has been flicking his tongue and showing his beard to the female goat he has a crush on. If he doesn't know how to win over a lady then I don't know what!

Elevators

...are scary.

Ever since I lived in a 7th floor dorm room in college and had to take an elevator several times a day, I have had reoccurring nightmares of being trapped in free-falling elevators and perishing. I told Erik about it once, and he informed me that dur, elevators have emergency brake systems AND some sort of apparatus at the bottom to absorb the impact. After that, I stopped having the nightmares.

Of course they came back with a vengeance though; logic and reason didn't squelch these nightmares (when I hear "nightmare" I always picture these creepy red-eyed lady horses hanging out in a forest, 'cause you know, mares in the night?). Last month I started my internship at the zoo, and because I take the lightrail, guess what I get to ride on from the tunnel up to the zoo!

When it's 5 o'clock and I am forced to leave my cozy desk area (which I love because it came pre-decorated with wolves and wolves are AWESOME), I put my rainboots on all slow because I just know today's the day I'm going to die in that elevator. I pass by the zoo entrance with all of the Christmas lights and I think, "well, at least this is a good last scene." I cross the road, get up to the elevator door, press the down button, and shiver because it is the button of doom. And also it's cold out.

I always try to look for "Otis" written somewhere, because I want it to be a brand name elevator. If it has a brand name, it's legit and thus safer, right? Of course, this one seems to be a no-name brand. "T" for tunnel lights up and then you free fall 243 ft (there's a diagram in there of how you're going to die) and your ears pop and your guts get all discombobulated and sometimes it's fun to jump and feel all light, but mostly you're trying to think of something cool in your last moments because what was that loud noise and does it always fall this fast?

And then the doors open and I high-tail it out of there, chuckling to myself and wondering why I have to make elevator rides so dramatic, but also I'm so happy to be alive.

Eleven-sixteen

I walk to work. It’s only about 15 minutes, and yes, good exercise! fresh air! watch birds fly around and stuff! But mostly when I walk, I worry. I can’t help it! I’m not much of a worrier, but when I’m walking to or from work, something about the crispy air and the silence and my heart beating a little faster (I walk super fast for no reason) makes me want to bring my problems to the surface and…well, just think about them. That’s all. Most are problems I can’t actually solve, but I still feel productive thinking about them since I’m walking, moving, going somewhere.

This is the Pacific Northwest, so a lot of times there’s an angry little grey cloud above my walk to and from work, making sure it shares its rain with me. Rude! So I put my hood up and my head down and stare at the scenery of ground as I worry. I’ll head down the stairs of my work to go home for lunch, making sure I don’t get hit by a texting golf cart driver. Dan-ger-ous. I pass the shriveled worms that have died not so far from where they were squiggling around this morning (reminder to self: life is short. Also, don’t sun yourself on a sidewalk). The grass is wet and squeaky, and walking on the piles of crumpled leaf bits are more like sloshing on oatmeal. I walk through the stadium’s ocean of gravelly tailgater heaven full of moss, leaves, puddles, paint lines, bottle caps, and colorful glass shards that will never amount to anything like pretty sea glass because they’re hanging out in a jagged place like this.

I cross the street and I’m in my neighborhood of college kids, bikes, and crumpled plastic jello shot cups. I pass a couple of leaf tornadoes and because of this crazy November wind I also get pelted by acorns. I was pretty much reliving the Storm Chasers episode I had watched last night, where they finally chase down a good tornado and get pelted with huge hail stones (I may or may not have just described every Storm Chasers episode). Also, do you know how randomly funny it is to be walking along, minding your own business (read: worrying), and all of a sudden you get an acorn to your face?

And then I’m not worrying anymore. For each little atom I just sloughed off the soles of my cute work heels, a tiny unit of worry has left me. (I wanted to say a tiny bit of worry lifted off my soul, but then I realized that matched with shoe sole, and that is just TOO ridiculous.)

And then I’m home, Rory the pom bouncing and spinning around, telling me helloomgimissedyousomuch in her own style and giving me a look of “you are my whole world.” (She doesn’t get out much.)