The Yellowjacket, the Horsefly, and the Surprise

I'm blogging on the run today, so none of my drawings will be making an appearance. Instead, I will supplant this post with real pictures of real things.

Err... On the run as in not at home. Not like running from the law. I'm not doing that. I'm just not at home. Right now. Today. ... I'm making everything worse.

Let's start over.

I'm not blogging from home today, so none of my drawings will be making an appearance, etc.

Okay, so, lately strange things keep flying into my car while I'm driving on the highway. This has happened to me twice THRICE in the past two weeks. <- That previous emotionally charged statement is due to the fact that when I started drafting this post, only two things had flown into my car, but as I was driving to where I am now, a THIRD thing flew into my car. It's a ridiculously apocalyptic time for me, my friends.

I'm gonna make a list.

1. The Yellowjacket

For those of you who don't live on the hellish landscape that is the American Midwest, this is the embodiment of horror commonly known as a yellowjacket:

"I'mma sting yo' face and plant eggs in yo' nose" [via]

Now, yellowjackets are not all that harmful, after you put aside the fact that they're predatory wasps and thus can sting you like 8,000 times or until they get bored. Whichever comes first. I, myself, have never been stung by anything, so I have no idea whether or not I'm allergic to bee and wasp stings.

So you can imagine my terror when, as I'm driving down the highway, I look down and notice that there is a tiny little yellowjacket ass abdomen poking out of a fold in my shirt. I was like O.O

There was nowhere to stop on the road, and I didn't know what to do, so I basically held my breath for the next ten minutes until I was able to pull over into a gas station. I needed gas anyway, so two birds and all that. So I unbuckled my seatbelt very, very slowly. It twitched. I twitched. But I had to keep calm, lest I suffer the wrath of 8,000 stings. I opened the door, gingerly, and stepped out all squatted and bow-legged so as to not disrupt the creature's resting state, and then extremely quickly flicked my shirt out and ran back, preparing myself for battle.

Except nothing bad happened. I looked, and there the thing was, writhing on the ground, just dying. I had no idea how or why this happened, and proceeded to assume that it just wanted to die next to a living thing instead of alone. At that point, I felt kinda sorry for it.

"Just... just cuddle with me... while I... die..." [via]

Then...

2. The Horsefly

Re: Hellish landscape that is the American Midwest, and enter:

And on the eighth day, God was like "You know what, fuck humans".  [via]

The picture doesn't do it justice, but those bitches are HUGE. The one that flew into my car, again, while I was driving on the highway, was at least two inches long. And also they bite. As per Wikipedia: "Most short tongued species of horse flies use their knife-like mandibles to rip and/or slice flesh apart". Awesome, right? Moreover, they carry a metric fuckton of diseases.

So yes, that guy flies into my car and I'm like "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT" because unlike the yellowjacket, it wasn't trapped in my shirt, but rather it just flew in on a stray breeze through the window and proceeded to taunt me from the dash, doing that weird-ass hand washing gesture that flies do. So, again, I had to find somewhere to pull over, but the problem was that, at any moment, dude could've decided to fly into my face and bite the shit out of me. Which I was very afraid of. I've been bitten by one of those before, when I was a wee tyke, and it ain't fun.

I did manage to pull over, but even though I got out of the car, Mr. Horsefly did not. This required strategy. I knocked on the windshield from the outside, and it just flew over to the other side of the car. So I knocked on that side. Same thing. So I opened ALL THE DOORS and continued with my knocking strategy until the thing flew out and away and presumably into someone else's car to ruin their day.

Seriously God, why WHY?! [via]

THEN TODAY...

3. The MOTHERFUCKING ROBIN

This is Batman's homoerotic sidekick, Robin:

"Put on pants? But... why?" [via]

Just to clear the confusion, that is not the kind of robin that flew into my car. But if he would've, I would've bought him some motherfucking pants because Goddammit Robin, men wear pants.

This, however, is what flew into my car:

Herald of Spring or Harbinger of Doom? You decide. [via]

Now, I was already shaken enough by the two stupid bugs that flew into my car while I was driving on the highway. But then today, this? I'm CONVINCED that I'm gonna die soon or something. Why does this keep happening to me?

There I am, driving, rocking out, getting strange looks from the people around me, but fuck them, don't they sing in their cars? Now this time, I was not on the highway, rather, I was just in town. Then one of the above pictured birds flies into my car, slams into my windshield with a highly audible thunk, falls over on the dash, and then flutters meekly out the other window and continues on with its day, disoriented and all. Meanwhile, my heart is pounding and the people around me who were already not flattered by my one-man-band-car-show are laughing hysterically. I sent them birds of my own.

So now I'm sitting here wondering what will fly into my car next. I mean, the things have only been getting bigger. How's it go? A bird, a plane, no Superman? Well anyway, all I see are various nightmarish scenarios for my future, my friends. Pray for me. I need it.

The Time I Got Towed

It doesn't need to be said, but I will say it anyway: Getting towed fucking sucks. Also it's (one of) my worst nightmare(s). Also it's one of the reasons why I hate living in a city.

You know those signs that say "No parking here to corner - TOW ZONE"? Well, when I look at them, they might as well say "No parking here to corner - YOU'LL GET FIRED" because that's what getting towed feels like. I get paid all of six kidney beans and seven grains of flour per hour, so paying for the ridiculous towing fees seriously breaks my bank.

I don't photograph well.

Sadly, one time, I got towed. :(

And I was livid. And extremely sad. And stranded to boot! What a heinous concept, towing. Everything to do with cars is just a money drain and something needs to be done about it. We should sign a petition. I don't know exactly what the petition would say quite yet, but we should all sign it. Any ideas, toss them in the comments.

Anyway, one time I got towed.

My thoughts: "Better go make some chili I guess."

Earlier, I said getting towed was my worst nightmare, because it is (one of them), and the only good part about it all was that I got towed with my phone on my person, not forgotten about in my car. So, luckily I wasn't stranded but I was still very pissed.

So I got home and made some chili (out of my salary, you know) to pay for the towing fees being that that was all my wages were good for, and the next day I went to the tow yard. This was a harrowing experience.

I get there, and the guy at the counter's like "Whaddayawant", and the sarcastic asshole in me wanted to say "You won the lottery!", but I was not in the mood to be cute that day. I explain how I got towed, tell him my car's information, and he has the audacity to say "Wow, how did you feel when you saw your car wasn't there anymore?"

All I wanted to respond was "Probably how you're about to feel when you look and see your teeth aren't there anymore", but I just smiled (feebly) and said "Hmm". Because if I tried to make any words, I would've said something terrible, and it's probably not a good idea to fuck with someone who is in control of your car.

Anyway, I paid the guy one bowl of chili and he said "Your car's out there somewhere", which is when I realized I had to search for it in this Central Park of cars. And, you know, my car is black and has wheels so that didn't take forever at all.

Ah, you know my secret. I reuse printer paper that may or may not have stuff on the other side.

The kicker? When I finally got to my car, and thankfully saw there had been no damage from the tow truck, I got in, turned it on, and drove away very happily... until I remembered that I was almost out of gas. OH THE SYSTEM, HOW I HATE THEE.

Watch where you park, boys and girls.

The BS 5 - "My Daughter Needs to Marry an American"

Goddamn I've been sitting on this post since June 30th. That sure did take a while.

Due to the nature of the job I had in Brazil, I encountered and interacted with a lot of the teachers in the school system. Most of them were cool, but goddamn did they love drama. Part of my job was to meet with the teachers weekly to conduct an oral language class to keep their English fresh (being that they were all English teachers also). And one of these teachers... well... she said things.

---WAIT. STOP. HOLD THE PHONE.

We interrupt this post for a very important announcement. 

The internet just failed me. I just tried so hard and for so long to find a clip of the How I Met Your Mother episode "First Time in New York" where Robin's sister comes to visit with her boyfriend and Robin says to her sister's boyfriend, after he says something really douchey, "You say things" AND I COULDN'T FIND IT ANYWHERE. Someone help! Please!---

Ignoring that, let's move on.

So this teacher, who I'll call... Mrs. M, she was very, very, very annoying. And opinionated. And had a bad case of foot-in-your-mouth. I'm surprised she managed to walk around. She looked mostly like a pear with legs, a bad wig, and a cigarette.

Mrs. M.

She was quite something.

On our first encounter, she really left a lasting impression. I mean, first of all her English was impeccable, and I was very impressed by that, but secondly, and again, she said things. Really stupid things. Observe the following dialogue:

"Oh, my daughter lives in the US!" said Mrs. M.
"Oh, that's cool, where?" replied I.
"In California. I worry about her because she's dating an Arab, and you know, all Arabs are terrorists. I'm very worried he's going to recruit her into a terrorist organization," she exclaimed.
"... By the way, I'm Arab," I said, and left.

Of course, she apologized profusely and was very embarrassed, but I was already offended to tantamount levels. Naturally, I wasn't quite looking forward to seeing her ever again because I really didn't want to punch a woman. But I would have to see her again. Many, many times. And I would always greet her with the same "I could give less of a fuck about your existence" face.

As in, "Oh. You.", not "Oh, youuu!"

Once upon one of these times, she asked me something ridiculous. I present to you another dialogue:

"Oh hey, Noor! Long time no see!" - Mrs. M.
"... It's been one week exactly." - Me.
"Say, I have a question. What state do you live in back in the US?"
"I'm from Chicago."
"So, Michigan, or...?"
"Illinois."
"So how close is that to California?"
"Pretty fucking far away."
"Do you have Facebook?"
"Why is this an interview? Yes, I do." (I do not anymore, mainly because of Brazil.)
"You should look up my daughter. Her boyfriend broke up with her. She's very attractive. They say she looks like me."

My mental image:

I did look her up, and I can almost swear to you that's exactly what she looked like.

But wait, it gets better.

"I'm not really sure when or how I will be in California to see your daughter..." I said.
"Well when do you go back to the US?"
"Like December."
"Perfect! That's when her visa expires! She really needs to marry an American so she can stay in the US and not get deported."
"..."
"So... I'll tell her I talked to you, kbyeeeeee!"
"... Wtf just happened."

I shit you not. I felt so... violated. And slightly flattered. She asked me to marry her apple-looking daughter with a bad wig and legs so that she could stay in the US. The best part was, I would have to move to California because I guess her daughter had a really good job with guess what website? E-Harmony. Yeah. So I thought, why can't she just get one of those people? Why me? Why do I have to marry an apple?

I never did have to marry her daughter, but I did have to make up countless excuses about why I hadn't accepted her Facebook friend request yet, because I don't know how to be straightforward.

"Noor, my daughter says she requested you two weeks ago and you still haven't accepted?"
"Oh, I've been so busy. Also it's so dark."

Which ended up becoming:

"Noor, my daughter says she requested you two months ago and you still haven't accepted?"
"Oh... my house is on fire. I have to go."

Which ended up becoming:

"Noor, you're leaving for America tomorrow, and my daughter says you still haven't accepted her friend request?"
"Oh... I... I really don't wanna marry your daughter, sorry."
"What? I couldn't hear that last part."
"I said... I... I DON'T WANNA MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER OKAY?!" And then I sprinted away.

She ran fast for a pear.

The moral of this story? If you don't wanna marry someone's daughter just so that she can stay in the US, just fucking tell the person you don't want to marry her daughter.

Guys. Wow.

Holy crap I've been absolutely terrible about posting lately. It's just been... so dark. I did most totes jinx myself with that two day in a row posting spree I had a while back. I actually had a third one started then, too, but never finished it. It's the continuation of The BS.

Anyway, I'm just letting you know that I am indeed alive and kicking, and will be posting soon. Like real soon. Like maybe even today, as long as my sprightly 2-year old nephew doesn't commandeer my laptop.

That line through my eye is an accident. Or a stress vein. Either or.

Until later, my friends.

The Way You Play "Draw Something"

Look at me, posting two days in a row! I'm proud. Hopefully I don't jinx myself. 

I recently got Draw Something and I'm fucking obsessed with it. It's so fun. Matter of fact, I invite you to play me. My username is Nishin.

But let me tell you something. A lot of people who play this game don't understand it. I play with a lot of randoms and I think a lot of them think the game is called "Write Something". It's not.

The premise of the game is that you choose a word, then you have to draw something (imagine that) that represents that word, and the other person has to guess what it is. Like charades. 

Let's say you choose to draw "elephant". This is what you should do:

The written part is what the other person (hopefully) guesses.

This is what a lot of the randoms I play with do:

There's never enough space to write something because the game is NOT CALLED WRITE SOMETHING.

And that's not the fucking point of the game.

The other thing about this game is that I believe some of the people playing it are from non-English speaking countries and are playing it in English anyway. The only problem with this is that the game, being that it's a North American game, is very North America-centric. If you're not from North America... you're not going to understand some of the things. For example, I drew this for this one random who I believe is from a Spanish-speaking country:

His name is Maxwell and he likes corn.

And he had no idea what it was, couldn't guess it, and then told me "that was really hard". And I thought, that wasn't hard, you just obviously have no idea what a fucking raccoon is. (The drawing was of a raccoon, by the way.) But I didn't say that because it's a policy of mine not to piss off people that don't know what raccoons are.

Anyway (I just misplaced my fingers when I went to type that and they produced "Zsnyqay", which I think would be a cool intergalactic race), that's all I had to say. Next post will be The BS 5. It's a good one.

Peace.