Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Okay But, Pollywogs.

You may have never really thought about it, but there are tadpoles, and then there are frogs. But like, in between those two things, there is the pollywog.

First of all, let's talk about the word pollywog. Say it out loud. Don't you love it? I love it. It makes me wish I had more (any) reasons to bring up pollywogs.

Secondly, look at it. It's legitimately something you would see tearing down a city in Spiderman 2, made at that scary science factory where Emma Stone works.

Thirdly, there is a pollywog in one of my best friend's profile picture. How weird is that? Why? Well it's because there's a pond in her yard and we picked up the pollywogs and played with them. Also weird, but the pic is pretty cute, I'll agree.

Page pollywoggin'.

In summary, you're welcome for reminding you that pollywogs exist. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

You Love Playing With Wax

Sry. 

THINK ABOUT IT. You love it.

There's a candle burning. It's Thanksgiving (maybe Christmas? You do you. The only pre-req is the candle presence). There's a pool of hot red cinnamon wax (maybe pine? Again, you, do, you.) pooling right under your nose. You're tempted to touch it. You don't quite yet. It's early and you don't want to ruin the candle. (YET). C'mon, be polite. Wait until dinner.

Some minutes tick by, and the pool of wax is growing. You dip a finger in. It's great. YOU LOVE IT. You're committed at this point. This candle must be ruined.

*Flashback*

Each year we have a Boxing Day party at mi casa. (Boxing day is the day after Christmas. Yeah, I think my parents made this up, too, but whatever.) Regardless, this holiday exists in the Shannon household so, deal.

So I'm at the party, maybe 4th grade? 5th? Doesn't matter to the story at all, but I'm sure my mom would be correcting me/ruining this story if she were over my shoulder. #jab

ANYWAYS. I'm going HAM on this huge red candle with my girl @Emgal. We are elbow deep in this cinnamon goodness essentially making arm casts of wax. Now, it should be noted that this candle is large, and, in, charge. Think 3 wicks.

Fast forward 30 minutes and this nice Crate and Barrel candle is DESTROYED. My mom was definitely mad at me but YOLO. Tell me you don't have a similar story.

.. Ya okay, Pinocchio.

*Flash forward*

And it's Christmas 2012. Still happening, still an issue.

(It should be noted that because of the incident that occurred Christmas 2012, our lovely Christmas dinner host Mama Hamilton put out chestnuts instead of wax. EQUALLY fun to destroy, and an easier cleanup, I'm told. Touché, Carol. I was pleased.)

Thursday, March 20, 2014

My Parents Once Made Us Go To A Really Weird Photoshoot

This photo is just so weird I can't even...
My parents used to have their own ad agency. (SHOUTOUT freshcutonline.com ) They did freelance work for businesses in the Greater Boston area, and being a youngster growing up with parents who work from home, I got to go to some pretty cool sheet.

(I'm talking editing studios, commercial shoots, recording booths ... Think about how stocked these kitchens were. Think about it. So much free candy.)

So this one time, my parents were doing some work for the Children's Hospital in Boston. Naturally, the models were chosen: me, and my sister. (We were cute. Are cute.)

Now, being about 6 at the time, my memory of the event is definitely foggy. So I'm filling in some deets. Sue me.

But there is one thing I do know. I was at a photoshoot. And all of a sudden, there was a jean jacket that was just my size. Def from Osh-Kosh-B'Gosh (sp?) ... talk about #tbt.

Fast forward 10 years and I'm still looking at pictures of me with every visit to grandparents homes and on fridges. (Fun Fact: I was in an ad for children's hospital and it's pretty damned cute. Suck it Abby. #weirdbrag)

So yeah, this was weird.


Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Altitude "Problems"

FANS AND FOLLOWERS! HELLO!

I had an experience today* that I thought was worthy of a post. So here we are.

I'm currently visiting a friend in Boulder, Colorado (yay, friends!). Having never been to Colorado, I was due for a speech on the risks of the mile-high city and how to be weary of the "thinness of the air."

Lucky for me, my Aunt, a seasoned CO traveller was willing to inform me how to deal.

"You'll definitely notice it. It's like, you'll just feel kind of slow. I remember one time, walking up a flight of stairs, and having to take a minute to myself just to catch my breath!"

All I can imagine is that episode of Spongebob in which Mr. Squarepants thinks that he can visit Sandy in her underwater air bubble sans water-helmet. AKA I'M GOING TO DIE. Now, something you should know about me is that I'm a pretty anxious human. My chest is already tightening at the thought of landing.

This is what I felt like in 23C.
I'm on the plane. We're in descent. Turbulence. Okay, I can handle this. Might die, but whatever. We land. We're taxiing. I am counting down the minutes until the cabin door opens. These are my last breaths. I'm breathing heavily in my middle seat (the worst). Like, heavily. I feel like I'm in one of those situations where there's like a fire alarm or something but I'm the only one who can hear it so I'm just playing it cool but like, THERE'S A GODDAMNED FIRE.

I'm literally watching the rows in front of me as if I will see some sort of cue that row 5 - now 8 - now 15 - is losing air. All I see is calm people unloading their belongings from the overhead bins. Wtf is this.

NOTHING HAPPENED. LITERALLY NOTHING. I COULD BREATHE. So that's it.

IN SUMMARY - stfu about the "thinness of the air" because GUESS WHAT it's a non-issue.

Go to Colorado ppl. It's safe.

*Today is now a few weeks ago. GTF over it.

Monday, November 25, 2013

Group Projects in College Make Zero Sense


Every teacher loves to end the year with a group project. Such a great practice for working with people in the real world!


Sing A New Song 1
This group harmony is fictional.
... Except that it's 100% not.

First of all, in the real world, in real jobs, in real LIFE, your coworkers and you work in the same building. That means for almost 8 hours every single day, you are mere yards away from each other. And during that time, you all have similar priorities. You're all on the same page. You're not all living in different residence halls with different exam schedules and different club meetings and different ideas of what's important in life.

So there's that.

Secondly, the thing you're doing is usually pretty dumb. It's a survey where you realistically do not have the necessary tools or budget to perform with any confidence or stab at accuracy, and yet, you're required to talk about said survey for upwards of 20 mins.

And finally, well no. You all agree. Group projects are literally the worst.

Monday, November 11, 2013

You Don't Even Look at Me Until I Sneeze

Yeah, hey guys, just me, Casper the friendly ghost over here. Oh hey! Cute, are those new ... ohpp you're looking at someone else, yeah, you are looking, at someone else. Same, no same, I was just touching my hair, yeah that's it, reach for the phone Emma reach for ...

*Insert Sneeze*

OH I'M SORRY. DID I JUST TURN INTO LINDSAY LOHAN? Cause all of a sudden all of lower campus is staring at me and maybe one of you says bless you. (How rude.)

Another thing. Why do we still say bless you? The two theories I've heard for the use of bless you are as follows:

1) When you sneeze, your heart stops. (So unbelievably dumb, no it doesn't) and naturally, the people around you are simply blessing you so that you may carry on living, despite the close encounters with death that come hourly with allergy season.

2) Sneezing is a sign that you have been momentarily occupied by the Devil! (Or a witch. Regardless, something equally absurd.) Again, the only natural reaction is to bless the poor horned human.

 And my question to you ...

...  Thoughts as to why we still say a shortened version of "May God Bless You" when people interact with pollen, forget their Zyrtec, or look at the sun for a second? Bueller?

Monday, October 28, 2013

Boarding Passes Are SO With It


Touch the Screen to begin.



K. You want my name? Emma B Sha ...

YOU FOUND MY TICKET? ALREADY!? DAVID BLAINE, ARE YOU IN THERE?!

It's like each time I use the kiosk I'm one hundred percent shocked that the airline knows I'm coming. And still, it always does.

Then, you get to the gate, and they scan your code, and for some reason for me, this always makes me feel like it used to when I would use a fake ID.

Boarding Pass
Magic.
Standing there, hoping that you'll get in. Practicing your zip code and double checking you know not only your zodiac sign, but also your horoscope for today, this week, and all of 2013 just in case the bouncer asks, and not only that, in case he knows your horoscope for today, this week and all of 2013. (Let's be real guys, how many bouncers know zodiac sign birthday cutoffs? How many PEOPLE know zodiac birthday cutoffs? All they know is that if you look like you're going to curl up and die when they ask, you're probably in middle school.)

But alas. I'm not in middle school, and I'm holding a boarding pass, not a fake ID from China. And then, like magic, there's my name. On the screen. Yep, that's me. And I'm a Gemini, in case you were wondering.

This is a similar joy for me as filling out forms, which you can read about in one of my earlier posts. Only if you want/have time/don't have time.

I also like where this Fake ID rant is going. More to come on that, I think, definitely.