Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream Also Heals Compound Fractures and Cures Malaria

I have been very seriously thinking about purchasing a domain name and making myself an actual web page for this blog.

Brain: That's one of the dumbest things that I've ever heard.

Ahem, I've thought about it for a while, and this template is pretty lame, and I kind of hate the url. I could maybe try to figure out how to design it, or I could find someone to do it for me. I just kind of want to have a real webpage with a real blog which, you know, looks nice

Brain: So what you're telling me is that you're an elitist. A webpage elitist.

Uh, I was looking at urls and cristinamartin.com was taken. If only I actually did something interesting or had a nickname or fun title.

Brain: You have a nickname. Several, in fact.

http://www.stin.com/ isn't very compelling. Uh, maybe if I could think of some sort of pun?

Brain: ...

Hey, how 'bout that new apartment, huh? I should make that asparagus strata tonight. If I don't want to curl up and die after the dentist today. Why did I have to develop this random canker sore like a day before my dentist appointment? What is she going to think about me?

Brain: DUDE, WHY ARE YOU TELLING THEM THIS?

I don't have herpes. But I have a family history of canker sores. It's common in women. Stop looking at me like that. It is! Plus it's really really rare for me to get one these days. I can't remember the last time I did. Of course, my lips decide to flare up just in time to see someone paid to EXAMINE MY MOUTH.

Brain: You know, you could have something terribly wrong with you. Like Celiac disease.

I have Celiac disease. Crap. Now I have to eliminate the gluten from my diet. I like gluten. Bah. I just wish this weren't so painful and gross. I want my dentist to keep thinking good things about me. And now she'll be all poking around in my mouth trying to be professional but totally staring at a horrible ulcer that may or may not remind her of an STD.

Brain: It's not like you were trying to pick her up. I'm sure she's seen much worse. I doubt she'll think you have herpes.

STOMACH: YOU KNOW WHAT WILL SOLVE THIS PROBLEM? 4 HALF-GALLONS OF BLUE BELL HOMEMADE VANILLA ICE CREAM. IT IS SO WORTH $119.

Huh, I'm suddenly kind of hungry. And in desperate need of a cold, creamy, and refreshing dessert.

Brain: I could lecture you on how you're supposed to be saving money now, but I don't think I'm going to win this one. Plus, I think we all want Blue Bell here. Just go back to reading www.pamie.com. I don't think you will ever be her, if that's what this whole thing has been about.

Now wouldn't that be much more interesting in a proper webpage? If any of you have fun domain name ideas or just want to tell me how ridiculous I am, please leave a comment.

How Long is this Sustainable, I Wonder? Let's Find Out.

Me: I'm kind of bored...
Brain: Why don't you write a blog entry about how bored you are?
Me: Oh, nobody would want to rea...oh, wait. I see what you did there.
Brain: Just saying. You need a haircut, FYI. You're getting a little bottom-heavy. Er, with the hair. Of course, just meant the hair.
Me: Yeah, I know. I just don't want to schedule the appointment. And then I'll have to pay, especially since I already told myself I'd get partial highlights of an auburn hue as well.
Brain: That's weird. Will you be able to maintain the haircut to go with the highlights once you get them, or are you going to end up looking like a marmoset or something?
Me: A marmoset? Really?
Brain: Well, whatever. I don't trust you either way.
Me: Have you ever wondered why she writes us as being two different concepts? Herself and her brain? That's kind of weird. And unnecessarily meta.
Brain: I always assumed that I was the conscience or, um, the incentive. Uh, the drive to better herself or something.
Me: Then why are you so mean to me?
Brain: Oh, it's good for you! You wouldn't get anywhere in life if I just went on and on about how you were special and had a destiny or something cheesy like that.
Me: Special Destiny?! You mean like Starb--
Brain: NO! No. Let's not go there. We all know how that went, and I don't think you want that. Plus, YOU NEED TO STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS SHIT. Haven't I made sure that you had enough headaches and mental weariness because of it?
Me: ...hey my Toaster t-shirt should be coming today!
Brain: I give up. Frak it.
Me: No, hey, no. Don't be sad. I'm doing better with it. We had angry thoughts on gender issues and only tangentially applied BSG to them. And, um, Eric got us thinking about the Constitution and rage and stuff. You got to pull out actual knowledge from undergrad Con Law class and everything. That didn't really have anything to do with BSG. Oh, oh and um we've been looking for new apartments on the internet, so that's a new project. Plus, we still carry that LSAT book around everywhere. I even opened it the other day!
Brain: Yet, I had no part in actually doing anything with it. It was just open. On the desk. And then you closed it after a while.
Me: I CAN'T DO ALL THE WORK, YOU KNOW. That was your part, and you failed. FAILED.
Brain: Pshaw, not my fault you found other ways to distract yourself. Most of the stuff you do at work doesn't require me at all. Plus, we're really really lazy. It's a thing.
Me: Yeah...maybe I should call David. My hair is really annoying me.
Brain: Good. That's a good project for the next minute. Do it now before you get distracted by, like, some stranger's crazyass meta about how Starbuck is really a super sekrit suprise!angel and Sam and Kara were actually destined to...oh, too late.
Me: What? It's an interesting, if not ultimately reaching take on the characters and the concepts of free will and destiny and higher powers, etc. etc.! Plus, you get to think too! What?! Okay, fine, I'll call the salon.
Brain: And then can we do a logic game?
Me: We'll see. Can it be about BSG?
Brain: SIGH. I'm not giving up on you, you know that right?
Me: I know. I'm not actually this crazy, but you're so much fun to mess with!
Brain: You still haven't called David.
Me: FINE.
[brief interlude]
Me: THERE. 11 AM for haircut and partial highlight. ARE YOU HAPPY?!
Brain: Ecstatic. My next project is getting you to regularly work out. You're almost there. If only you would stop putting on your pajamas immediately upon getting home. And you wonder why some people think you're depressed.
Me: I LIKE TO BE COMFORTABLE. And that applies to my not working out too. I've come to dread it, since I know it will hurt like hell.
Brain: But it's a GOOD hurt. We like that hurt. And you actually feel pretty damn good about yourself after intense workouts. Don't you remember?
Me: I guess. Hey, you think anyone is still reading this? We kind of ran out of steam a while back.
Brain: Yeah. I don't know. I don't think this ever actually had a point, to be perfectly honest. She just wanted to write something, so we got wranged in so that she can pretend to express something. Not that it was anything of substance. We're just blathering on about whatever pops into her head. None of this means anything. We don't really represent anything here.
Me: Hey. Hey, Brain.
Brain: What?
Me: Hee. Does this mean--
Brain: What?
Me: Are you alive? :D
Brain: ...
[Brain has left the chatroom]
Me: Hello? Hello? Are you there? .....Oh my, I'm sleepy.

Fin

Cristina Gets Meta...Again

I am going to NY with Laura and Alex! This is very exciting, of course, but I still need to tie up some loose threads. Here we go.

Me: Yay, I finally know what I'm going to do with you guys when I leave!
Gus and Nubs: What do you mean? Where are you going?
Me: Oh, nowhere. Um, look, I bought y'all new mice to play with!
Gus: Stop avoiding the question--where are you going?
Me: Okay, okay, going to NY for a week. BUT, I got y'all a friend for the week. His name is Oscar and he sounds like a very nice man. He'll feed and water you and play with you and change your litter. It'll be like me, except, um, not.
Nubs: Oh, I'm going to get in so much trouble.
Me: Hmm, okay I'll tell Oscar to watch out for you.
Nubs: But look at me! Aren't I cute? Watch me run around on three legs!
Me: Aww.
Gus: I can't believe that worked. What about me? I'm not going to come out from under the bed for a week when you come back.
Me: I'll teach him the tricks of treats and laser pointer. I think you'll be okay.
Gus: But, but, but...
Me: Oh suck it up. So you don't get to play with my feet for a few days--you'll survive.
Gus: How come that one gets all the attention? I don't cause nearly as much trouble as she does.
Me: Hey! You disemboweled my bed to make yourself a cave! You're not getting off that easy. Plus Nubs can't really get in trouble too much. I mean, it's not like she's going to get into the shower while the water is running and run around the apartment AGAIN. I mean, it's not like Oscar is going to be showering here. Right?
Gus:...
Nubs:...
Me: Okay, I'm 80% sure that's not going to happen. Oscar will make sure that all your little toys are always brought out of the nooks and crannies you inevitably put them in, which I don't even do all the time.
Gus: All right, have a good time!
Nubs: Have fun! Take lots of pictures!
Mastercard: Ahem, have you forgotten about me?
Me: Oh crap. Hi.
Mastercard: Do I need to set a budget?
Me: No, no. I've got this one under control. I think.
Mastercard: Do you think, or DO YOU KNOW?
Me: I'm okay. I swear.
My brain: Oh New York is going to be so much fun! There's so much culture there! We can go to museums and wander around the neighborhoods and drink in the history!
My stomach: DUDE WE ARE GOING TO EAT SO MUCH GOOD FOOD. I AM SO EXCITED.
Mastercard: Are you sure you have this under control? Cause, dude, I can't stop this shit.
Me: I'll be okay. I mean, I can't spend too too much, right?
Mastercard: Oh, boy.
My brain: Okay, are you going to exercise? This has become a pressing concern, since Stomach has involved itself.
Me: I'm going to try my hardest. You've gotta help me, you know! This is a project for both of us.
My brain: I'll see what I can do, but you're the one that's going to have to make your feet run.
Me: Wait, isn't that y--
My brain: God this is getting too meta. I'll bring Endocrine in to help out, though. Maybe kick the Endocrine System in to make you fidgety so you'll actually run.
Endocrine: WHOATHATISSUCHAGOODIDEA. IT'SBEENTOOLONG,REALLY. WOOWOOWOO! WOONEWYORKWOO! I! FEEL! FANTASTIC!
Adrenal Gland: I AM CONSTANTLY READY.
Me: See, it'll be easy.
My brain: I worry about you sometimes. Hopefully we'll still have a job when we get back.
Me: Oh. Right. Way to harsh my buzz, brain. AGAIN.
My brain: Want me to put a fun song in your head?
Me: Whaddya got?
My brain: I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...
Me: You bastard.
My brain: Just kidding. How about this? And I feel fantastic. And I never felt as good as how I do right now Except for maybe when I think of how I felt that day When I felt the way that I do right now, right now, right now.
Me: Oh that's fun. I forgive you.
My brain: :)
Mastercard: Ahem.
Me: Let's be friends okay? I won't even take Macy's out; how about that?
Macy's: But, but, we'll be in New York! THIS IS NOT FAIR.
Me: Sorry, dude. MC means more to me.
Macy's: You are so not fierce.
Me: Oh yeah, Macy's, you really know how to hurt me. Will this dialogue never end?
My brain: Dude, you know this is you just talking to yourself, right?
Me: Damn you and your logic.

I am very excited about NY! I will try to twitter all throughout NY about my crazy adventures. So it will be like all my score of followers (SCORE) will know, like, when I eat a hotdog. Man, I really need this vacation.

Excuse Me, I Have to Wash the Tool out of My Hair

Okay, so I just had a very interesting interaction at the bus stop on my way back from work. Here it is in its entirety. Italics represent my thoughts, but you could've probably figured that out for yourself. Behold how my foot sinks further and further into my mouth!

La la la. Waiting for the bus stop. Oh, that's a person I recognize. She was in my graduating class. Oh crap, what was her name? Is she one of those people who will make a point to not acknowledge me, because we both went to the U of C, or really friendly because of it? Oh god, don't look, don't look. Pretend you're looking at the street for the bus. You're not creepily observant, no siree. Oh shoot, she's coming up to me. Waving! She's waving now. What'shernamewhat'shernamewhat'shername? She's here. Quick, pretend you didn't see her until this very moment!

Me: Hi! How's it going?
Classmate I can't remember: Hi, do you remember me? We went to the University of Chicago together.

What'shernamewhat'shernamewhat'shername?

Me: Of course! How are you? I didn't see you. Liar.
Classmate I can't remember: Yeah, you're Cristina from San Antonio, right?

Crap.

Me: Um, yeah that's right...

I can't believe we don't remember her name. She was in that thing that we did before school started. She was nice. God, WHAT IS HER NAME? Why can you remember Buffy's middle name, and you're blanking on who this real person is? You're never going to be able to improvise, so you better fess up.

Me: Um, I'm really sorry, but I don't remember your...
Classmate I can't remember: Melissa.

Oh YEAH. We had that thing together.

[At this point in the narrative, the part of the Classmate I can't remember will be played by Melissa, whom I marginally remember.]

Me: Oh yeah we had uhm...
Melissa: HUM together.
Me: Right. HUM. YES! THAT'S RIGHT.

Oh, god, would you look at yourself? Why are you practically yelling at her? Overcompensate much? Oh yeah, keep gesticulating wildly, 'cause you don't look like a massive tool at all.

Me: So how are you?

You've said that like five times now, seriously. Is that my bus? Please let that be my bus.

Melissa: Good. So, are you still living in Chicago?
Me: Yeah, I work right there in that building.
Melissa: Which one?
Me: That one. The one I'm pointing at.

Okay, finally she's looking in the right place. Oh, I think she's still talking. I can't hear her. God, what if she's asking me something? Oh, she's done now. SMILE AND NOD. SMILE AND NOD.

Melissa: You went to the reunion thing a few months ago, right?
Me: Yeah, it was fun.
Melissa: Yeah, I saw you there. I wanted to say hi, but didn't get the chance to.
Me: Oh, yeah, it was crazy crowded.

Okay, now you've created an awkward silence. Quick be funny, or self-depricating, or clever. GOD, WHAT USE ARE YOU?

Melissa: Well, I have to go to the gym now. But I just wanted to say hi, because it was so nice to see a familiar face.
Me: Yes! So nice! It was really nice to see you too.

And she's walking off now. I think we just had a sitcom moment. A bad sitcom moment. You're kind of a dick. You know that, right? When's the damn bus getting here?

I Swear, This is What They Do

Given my propensity for attracting random visitors to my blog, I feel the need to say no intervention is necessary. Cristina's not going to kill herself. Or continue to speak in the third person ever again. Yikes. I was doing a satire of what many young people (coughemokidscough) use blogs for. (Although saying it probably guts the joke.) It was lots of fun to write. I'm glad the nameless haiku of my unfathomable inner torment was appreciated. And now, on to more fun things!

My cats are characters, aren't they? They should have their own reality show based on their apartment adventures when I'm not around. In fact, this is what it would be like:

Exit Food Slave.

Gus: Hey, she's gone. Where do you think she goes? I don't think she gave me enough attention earlier. Why does she always pay so much more attention to you, anyway?
Nubs: Buh? I don't think she...OH SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE! I WILL GET YOU. Hey, where'd you go?
Gus: You're not so special. Just because you can't get on the bed like I can, doesn't mean she should pay more attention to you. I keep having to remind her that I'm here. She doesn't get up until 7:30 anyway, so why shouldn't she spend time scratching my ears? I've seen your ploy to get her attention, Little Miss I-Only-Have-Half-of-a-Back-Leg-so-I-Can't-Scratch-My-Own-Ear. It's all about you, isn't it? And your stupid gimpy name.
Nubs: Hey, I didn't name myself. The humans thought it would be funny. Hey, wait, where'd you go? You went into my blind spot. What have I told you about that? And, I really can't scratch my own ear! You're just too codependent. Don't project your personal issues onto me.
Gus: That's it. I'm going to go eat your food.
Nubs: NOOO! Gah! Death from below!
Gus: Grr, nooo! I will bite your tail off. I swear, I will bite it off.
Nubs: Just you try! Headlock! Headlock! I have you now! Come on, say it. Say it!
Gus: No, I won't. I won't. Aah, okay, can't breathe. Spine twisting. Okay fine, MERCY. MERCY. There, are you happy?
Nubs: Haha! I win!
Gus: You're a freak with that deathgrip. Why are you so strong?
Nubs: I'm not strong--you're just a wuss.
Gus: Shut up. Your stupid fur got all mussed up. C'mere. Lemme fix it.
Nubs: Thanks! Oh, that feels good, man. You're not coming on to me are you?
Gus: Nope. Haven't felt anything like that since we went to the vet that one time. We're just good buds.
Nubs: We have a complicated relationship, don't we?
Gus: No less so than those other cats at the first food slave's place. Hey, if we work together we can get those awesome food thingies she keeps on top of that box, which she uses to warm up her poison water. In the food room. Let's do it before she gets back.
Nubs: Okay! How do we---THERE YOU ARE! You thought you could hide from me, Shiny Mouse. But now I have you cornered. I'm going to do a waltz of victory with you around the nap stand in the middle of the room! YOU ARE MINE!
Gus: Forget it. I'm going to go take a nap in my new cave under her sleeping place. Wake me if you find out how to get from the water spout to the cold box. That's the biggest hurdle.
Nubs: Hahahahahahaha! SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE!

I could go on for hours, so I should stop now. Maybe I should try to market this to one of the networks. Bravo would only buy it if Gus were gay, but I bet Animal Planet would be interested. Hmm...imagine the possibilities!