Strip! Those shoes….

Ever thought about how humans are the only species that wear shoes? We don’t even just wear shoes, I mean we really wear shoes. We invest a good chunk of our lives picking them out, ordering them online at Zalando, learning how to tie them and subsequently tying them for the rest of our lives, tripping on them, putting them into our shoe closet, taking them off, cleaning them, convincing ourselves that buying a $346 pair of shoes is totally worth it in the long run(I mean I’ll wear them for years, and if I wear them every day for 5 years then that is only 19 cents per time I wear them and if I don’t have 19 cents for a pair of shoes everyday then I have much bigger problems). 

But there must be a reason no other species wear shoes, they’re definitely onto something. 

A lot of people are weird about bare feet. I am all about the barefoot. Not outside of course where I could step in some drunk college kid’s urine but in adequate and appropriate places. 

Here is a list of all places people are not allowed to judge you for being barefoot:

1. On a roadtrip –> who are we kidding, you’re not going to keep your boots on the entire ride to wherever you are going. Chances are you’re with people you know really well(and if you aren’t then what are you doing in this car? You should get out now and call your mom, maybe she can come pick you up) so they won’t judge you for your ugly feet. 

2. At the library while studying. How am I supposed to get the juices flowing if my feet are imprisoned?

3. After 3:24 AM, if you have been dancing for 4 to 5 hours straight, your dress is fabulous and your shoes are too but they also evidently have it out for your soul and want to punish you via foot torture. To be clear, bare feet once you LEAVE the club and have walked 5 to 20 meters in the opposite direction of said club. I will not take responsibility for the fact that some people think a club is a great place to take off their 8 inch heels: first of all who told you to buy those? Was it a giraffe? Or perhaps someone on stilts? Also I feel like you will contract some kind of blood or fungus disease. Stop it. Put those shoes back on, they are Noah’s Arc to you.

4. In an airplane. If I am about to spend 12 hours in this tin box with you 340 people lets get comfortable because I am about to pillage this on-board entertainment. Let’s move this relationship to the next level. 

5. When going shoe shopping. Do I really have to put my shoes on again every time I want to move over to the next table of shoes at Nordstrom? That is crazy talk.

 

Just take your shoes off whenever you feel like it. 

Advertisements

My Best Friend Doesn’t Know Me At All

Don’t you just love modern technology? We can buy our socks from Australia, order pizza from literally anywhere, download One-Directions newest one hit wonder(always hoping that is what it will be so they can finally scurry away and hide behind a rock or boulder maybe) two seconds after it is released on Disney-Radio and download and read the bible on an iPad(the way God intended it). It is easy to say technology has paved many a way for us mere mortals. Paved the way onto the couch, in a comfy chair in a corner, rested up against 3 pillows on my bed with 3 assortments of chips and various gummy bear options, basically paved a way to great places. Once I actually checked the weather from on my phone instead of getting out of bed and looking outside. If that isn’t the way of the modern world, then what is?

 

I did have a reason for this rant of course and this is it. I was on my phone today during my English course because that class sometimes really needs a supplementary activity to keep my eyes from actually closing and me joining a severe REM cycle, and I went into the app store to see what I could get and noticed there was a “Suggestions for you” section. I thought “Who knows me better than the one person/object that is always there for me? The one I always feed, I carry when it can’t stand, I put protective clothing/gear on so it doesn’t get hurt, I protect with my heart and the clenched fist with two to three fight rings. The answer is no one. Of course my phone knows what I want.”

 

So I opened the suggestions box. And this is what my phone thought I could use based on my other downloads:

 

Google Plus.

 

…………

……………….

 

………………………..

YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL PHONE. 

 

So I have made a list of things that are as useful as Google Plus:

 

1. Typing “www.” when you want to go to a website

2. Liking your own Facebook/Instagram pictures –> we all notice and immediately think you are the most pretentious person ever. This is totally not worth the extra like

3. Owning a jeans vest

4. Being really good at writing cursive

5. Knowing the periodic table by heart

6. Having a myspace account(although I have one but purely because I have NO way of accessing it to delete it. It would be great maybe if I could get into contact with Justin Timberlake and he could delete it for me or tell me which way to move forward on this particular matter. Justin, if you see this, just holler!)

7. Knowing the difference between all the different types of milk there are at the supermarket: just drink the one your mom told you to, I won’t tell anyone, it’s fine

8. One shoe

9. Putting water on your toothbrush before you put toothpaste on it, then putting water on it again. You are high maintenance. Think about all the water you are wasting. 

10. While we are on that track, brushing your teeth before a meal. Unless you enjoy the disgusting taste, WHO ARE YOU

11. Beds smaller than a Full sized bed. If I wanted to sleep on a ledge, I would. 

12. Shaving every day. 

13. A set of encyclopedias in Latin 

What if They Could Talk

If inanimate objects could talk:

My bed would love me, but it would tell me to visit it more and stop inviting other friends like laptop.

My car would unfriend me on Facebook and formally complain that: I don’t take good enough care of it, I sing off tune 100% of the time and that I should stop telling him the truth and instead tell the people who should hear it.

My bank account would tell me I am not invited to her birthday party.

My journal would confess that she misses me, and that she wishes I had something good to tell her so now and then.

My laptop would tell me to get out of his room and shut off the lights so he can finally go to sleep and try to shut down.

My books would beg me to visit them again and pay them the attention they deserve.

My toothbrush would tell me to stop forgetting what he looks like and that it feels like I am cheating on him with that pink Colgate girl.

My keys would exclaim that if I lose them one more time they will personally break themselves in half because I don’t even deserve to open doors.

My phone would tell me that no matter how many text messages or likes or notifications I get, it won’t make me happier. It won’t ever be the thing that wakes me up in the morning knowing it will be a good day, an important day. He would tell me not to wait, but to live, breathe, daydream, -heck- nightdream while you’re at it. He would tell me that he will come and go, just like sunlight and air and laughter and love and joy and heartache and raindrops and kisses and smiles. But he would tell me if anything, to give up on him. To secede him in order to preserve the others. That they have more they can give me.

I think if inanimate objects could talk they would know more secrets than we do ourselves. I think they would tell us the truth behind a person. They would tell us the truth behind a person because we aren’t afraid to tell them or show them what the secret meandering thoughts looming in our minds really are. We aren’t afraid to undress our secrets to them. What do they care, they can’t judge us, tell on us, spoil us, criticize us. All they are, are meager objects. But if they could talk, oh then maybe they would know me best of all.

 

I think if inanimate objects could talk they would tell us we can trust them, and that maybe sometimes we place too much worth on them. They would tell us they aren’t as important as we think they are. That one day, when our breaths are short, and our hair whispy grey, that our thoughts won’t dart to them, but to the experiences we had with them, on them, near them, because of them. They would tell us they are just the backdrop for our real lives. Our real lives, our big lives, our true lives.

What People Name Their Children

There are many things I can commend parents for doing. Endless amounts of things. Personally, I can’t even imagine having a child right now. Parents not only imagine it, they actually have one. They have a child, they own a person(Is that incorrect to say?). Sometimes, they even have more than one. And it’s just there, in addition to them, hanging out with them 100% of the time. That is a very large percent. They are like the cookies you impulsively buy at a store for whatever reason, that you then place on the counter and then they just stare at you all the time, knowingly, waiting to be eaten. But instead, it’s a living, breathing human, and not a cookie. Actually it’s literally, nothing like a cookie. Your child is essentially as far away from a baked good you can get. (bun in the oven)

Last Friday, I watched a movie with my dad. I know what you’re thinking: “Amyra, you’re crazy. Your life is so vibrant and dynamic” which, yes, is a very correct statement. It was another one of those crazy, I’ll-remember-this-forever Friday nights. Set up in my sweatpants and a vast supply of craisins and peanut m-n-m’s, I was ready to really shake things up. The movie was horrible. Absolutely, a waste of time. I might as well have spent my night the way I spend most other nights: watching various mammal species do adorable things like roll and sleep and then eventually I get frustrated getting stuck with 5 second YouTube ads(Get out of here ads, no one listens to you, we are all literally sitting and counting down until we can click ‘Skip’. Also, rude, because the button to skip is really small and sometimes I miss the ‘Skip’ button which brings me to the actual tab of the ad which I then need to listen to again and close. I see what you did there, I am onto your case YouTube). Anyways, the movie was terrible. It would have been better, had it had a single ounce of content. It must’ve been hard filming with no content. I don’t want to push any movie under the bus so I’ll just make a fake name for the horrible movie, let’s call it “The Lake House” and say it stars Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. Just to paint a picture for you.

So I watched this movie, it is finally over, the little sense the beginning offered has definitively been eradicated and the credits are starting to roll in. Directed by, produced by, bim bam boom, lots of people we don’t know. Then, it happened. “Written by Lynzee Klingman” Lynzee Klingman. Lynzee. Klingman. Lynzee. Lynzee. Lynzee wrote “The Lake House”. Her name was Lynzee.

Let me throw out all the spelling versions of the name Lynzee(known to me as of March 10th 2014).

  1. Lynsie
  2. Lindsay
  3. Linsey
  4. Lindsey
  5. Linsie
  6. Lyn-Sie
  7. Lynnsie
  8. Lyndsay

I am going to try to say this in the friendliest way possible.

If you name your child a simple-as-fuck name like Lindsay, no amount of unfitting letters and abnormal puzzling will qualify that common name to be not common. Even if you spell it with 136 silent ‘q’s or put three accents and Umlauts into it, if your name is Sarah, your name will remain Sarah. The only difference is that you will be forced to have this conversation any time you meet someone:

“Wøebsryalïryuqqqqarbhäò, the doctor is ready for you.”

“Oh great!”

“Wow, what an interesting name you have!”

“Hi! Thanks! Yeah, my parents really like unique names!”

“How do you pronounce it?”

“Yeah so it’s spelled “Wøebsryalïryuqqqqarbhäò”, but it is actually pronounced “Sarah”.”

“What?”

“Yeah, confusing right?”

Trust me, this is not a hashtag worth it situation.

Besides, instead of calling you Sarah Miller or whatever run of the mill white last name you have, people will be forced to call you Sarah witha all the stupid q’s, which in my opinion is vastly worse than Sarah Miller. Additionally, I dare you to try to find a job, with the name Wøebsryalïryuqqqqarbhäò. You will never get a job that requires a nametag, because when they receive your employers order, every nametag business will wonder if they accidentally have crack cocaine running in their water and eventually go bankrupt because they spent all their money on expert water testing.

So, to sum up, there are many things I commend parents for. They generally feed their kids, bathe them, read to them, make sure they stay alive: all of the important stuff. Your children are amazing, they will be successful, give back to the world etc. I hope. But, do them a favor; if you are going to name your child Becky, spring for Becky not Behckie. Wanna go unique? Go unique! But try to stay in the fruit/vegetable/foods and the four cardinal directions realm. Who wouldn’t take North West or Apple Martin or Cocoa Arquette seriously? That’s super “in” right now, and, just comes across a lot more appropriate and classy.

You know what I mean.