Mind one.
Some of you may be confused by this blog title, and honestly, I understand. It's an odd title, but calm down dear readers, all will be explained. You can't rush greatness, imagine what would of happened if Gandalf would of rushed his fight with the Balroc?? Or if Legolas would of rushed his shot on the cave troll?? Or if Peter Pan had rushed his flight back through London and never met Wendy?? Think about where our world would be. (Yes, its faintly disturbing that I have two Lord Of the Rings references and one Peter Pan.) But I was cruising through the Blog statistics the other day, and I noticed that we have over 1,000 page views. That's epic, thank you guys, your amazing, keep on reading!!! I was curious too see where all of you attractive people live so I went to this nifty little tracker thing that tells us page views by country. We have three countries following us. This surprised me, I was expecting only Americans. However, we also have readers in...Germany...and Russia. I can see it clicking in your heads now. The title makes sense. You're picking up what I am laying down. Now I do not mean to offend you, my little foreign friends. I love you! I just find it amusing.
In my family, you have me and my stunning wit and humor, however, I'm a little harsh, and blunt. You also have my mom, who is slightly less funny, and tends to filter her thoughts before they come out of her mouth, I blame growing up in a town with a population under two hundred. Then you have my Grandpa, my Papa, who is an older, funnier, smarter, manlier, blunter, harsher, more forward version of me. It's great, he doesn't care what you think, and he will tell you this. Also you have my uncle, and his girlfriend who...for lack of a better name...I will call Boobs. Boobs does in fact have Boobs, but that's not important. Boobs is a very opinionated Basque lady, and a Liberal. Yes lets all shiver and hiss at her in unison.
Picture here!!!
After meet Boobs for maybe the second time, and getting into the political discussion, my papa decides that Boobs is ready to be included into the family. And promptly starts calling her "The Communist." My nickname seems so much nicer doesnt it now? Anyways. That little side story was just to point out the irony that Boobs a.k.a. "The Communist" could be reading my blog, at the same time as some poor innocent in Russia, formerly a communist state. There is irony here. You just have to look hard enough.
As for the Nazi part. Come on. Like you expect me to let that one go. Seriously?
Mind Two:
Oh. My. Gosh. I can't believe we have that many viewers!! And how legit is it that most of them are from another country. And by the way, the fact that Mind One named her Boobs made me laugh extremely hard. If I ever have to meet her, I know I will accidently call her that. That would be extremely awkward.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Mind Two's Thank You
I just wanted to say thank you to all of you out there reading this. It makes me like I have accomplished something in my life. It also gives me an extreme sense of power, like I could walk around wearing heels and a Bluetooth and buy the crown jewels...just like that cell phone company commercial, except with taller heels. And now to thank all of you...I will post a picture of me with the crown jewels when I buy them.
Actually, today has kind of been a bad hair day, so instead I will just tell a funny story.
How about a PE story?
Mind One and I are complete geniuses. I mean, I am sure you probably already knew that because of our other posts, but I really mean it.
In fact, most of our ideas come to us during PE. The teacher makes us do a warmup exercise and then we go into the weight room and work out. The warmup isn't really a warmup because it is still pretty hard. One of those warmups is the 12 minute cardio run where we run around the track for 12 minutes. Mind One prefers to call it the 12 minute pretend-you're-running-so-
Actually, today has kind of been a bad hair day, so instead I will just tell a funny story.
How about a PE story?
Mind One and I are complete geniuses. I mean, I am sure you probably already knew that because of our other posts, but I really mean it.
In fact, most of our ideas come to us during PE. The teacher makes us do a warmup exercise and then we go into the weight room and work out. The warmup isn't really a warmup because it is still pretty hard. One of those warmups is the 12 minute cardio run where we run around the track for 12 minutes. Mind One prefers to call it the 12 minute pretend-you're-running-so-
Monday, May 28, 2012
"My butt looks nice from this angle!"
Mind one.
Question of the day. Supposedly, when your head is chopped off, your brain lives for a full eight seconds. So could you actually check out your dead body, before its actually dead, and could you actually talk? I would love to know this. Could I go piss off some random French man, and get guillotined?? If I did, I would run a commentary for him.
"Mother of god sharpen that thing!!!"
"This isn't bread cutting son!"
"OH! Thats nice, you missed a spot, did you think I wanted to be like Nearly Headless Nick?"
"Why are you wearing pink socks???"
Seriously, if someone really decides that they need to kill me, do me a favor and strap me to a block and guillotine me. Answer one question for me on my way out!!!
Mind two.
If you ever find yourself in a situation where a guillotine is involved and your head is in it, remember this. You have eight more seconds after the initial head chopping. Eight seconds of pure torture. It's like bull riding except there is no big golden trophy at the end and no cash prize, only heaven. Or hell depending on who you are. There is one upside, though. If your head was chopped off and rolled away to face your body, you could check yourself out. "Hey everybody! Look at how good my butt looks from this angle!!" Then they would all run over and start checking you out. Except by the time they got there, your eight seconds would be up and you couldn't see them checking out your body. Sad day.
Question of the day. Supposedly, when your head is chopped off, your brain lives for a full eight seconds. So could you actually check out your dead body, before its actually dead, and could you actually talk? I would love to know this. Could I go piss off some random French man, and get guillotined?? If I did, I would run a commentary for him.
"Mother of god sharpen that thing!!!"
"This isn't bread cutting son!"
"OH! Thats nice, you missed a spot, did you think I wanted to be like Nearly Headless Nick?"
"Why are you wearing pink socks???"
Seriously, if someone really decides that they need to kill me, do me a favor and strap me to a block and guillotine me. Answer one question for me on my way out!!!
Mind two.
If you ever find yourself in a situation where a guillotine is involved and your head is in it, remember this. You have eight more seconds after the initial head chopping. Eight seconds of pure torture. It's like bull riding except there is no big golden trophy at the end and no cash prize, only heaven. Or hell depending on who you are. There is one upside, though. If your head was chopped off and rolled away to face your body, you could check yourself out. "Hey everybody! Look at how good my butt looks from this angle!!" Then they would all run over and start checking you out. Except by the time they got there, your eight seconds would be up and you couldn't see them checking out your body. Sad day.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Mind one. Call me the un-Cher
(Mind two, I'm also saving this one for the days we cant come up with shit.)
Mind one.
I dyed my hair. I know, your scared, and your thinking. What if mind one doesn't have red hair now? Now the two minds aren't gingers!! My whole life is a lie! Chill out bro, I'm still red. In fact, now my hair is a deep dark red, not that copper color. For some unknown reason, this seems to make everyone think of Cher. But they never specify WHICH Cher. Is it the original Cher, like in Mask?
Or maybe the first round of surgery Cher?
Or....Cher in Burlesque???
Or even...this random picture of Cher I found where she went...GINGER??? (Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuun!!!)
Honestly, its too much for me to understand. I'm so confused!!
(Honestly if its the Cher like in Mask, I'm okay with that!!!)
Mind Two:
You know, now that I think about it, she does bear some resemblance to Cher. Although, I don't think any of those people have it right. Now it is my turn to draw the picture!! This is more what she looks like.
Oh man, she is going to hate me for this one.
Mind one. P.s.
THATS MY FAVORITE THING EVER!!!! <3 I dig how we both used the same picture....
Mind one.
I dyed my hair. I know, your scared, and your thinking. What if mind one doesn't have red hair now? Now the two minds aren't gingers!! My whole life is a lie! Chill out bro, I'm still red. In fact, now my hair is a deep dark red, not that copper color. For some unknown reason, this seems to make everyone think of Cher. But they never specify WHICH Cher. Is it the original Cher, like in Mask?
Or maybe the first round of surgery Cher?
Or....Cher in Burlesque???
Or even...this random picture of Cher I found where she went...GINGER??? (Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuun!!!)
Honestly, its too much for me to understand. I'm so confused!!
(Honestly if its the Cher like in Mask, I'm okay with that!!!)
Mind Two:
You know, now that I think about it, she does bear some resemblance to Cher. Although, I don't think any of those people have it right. Now it is my turn to draw the picture!! This is more what she looks like.
Mind one. P.s.
THATS MY FAVORITE THING EVER!!!! <3 I dig how we both used the same picture....
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Mind Two is Dying...Probably
Mind Two:
So I am like 90% sure that I might die soon. First, because I am sick. And its not even a real sick. I am not vomiting and seeing Jesus everytime I close my eyes. At least then I could go to the hospital and then they would pump me full of medication and I would be well again. No, it is just a cold. A lousy cold that will not go away no matter what I do. I have tried eating 5 packages of emergen-c in one day, putting Vicks on the bottom of my feet, taking vitamins, sleeping, and drinking 11 cups of orange juice. I love orange juice, but 11 cups in one day? Seriously? That is dedication for you.
p.s. Drinking that much orange juice will NOT cure your cold. It will only make you nauseous and make your little sister yell and scream and throw a tantrum because she really wanted some orange juice.
The second reason is I may have accidently eaten fish food. I have a pet fish, a blue beta named Jose-B (Jose died so my second fish got to be named after him), who I feed twice a day, for the most part. Sometimes I forget, but hey, who doesn't? Anyway, I usually feed him morning and night. Last night, I fed him and then I took my vitamin, whose container happens to be sitting right next to my fish food. This morning, I woke up in a total panic because I had dreamt that I had eaten the fish food and then died a horrible death. Then I got to thinking, what if I really did eat the fish food? Am I going to die? Or turn into a mermaid and be forced to wear a purple seashell bra and sing really great songs for the rest of my life??
You are probably thinking that I am retarded for not remembering if I ate the fish food or the vitamin. BACK OFF!! It was really late and I had like three different conversations going on through text. I am pretty sure I ate the vitamin, though.
Also, I was reading Hyperbole and a Half and she was talking about re-inventing the pain scale they use at hospitals. I decided my pain is like a combination of 4 and 5. It sucks, but death is not right around the corner. I probably have at least a month to live.
Mind one.
I've caught her sickness. I feel like I'm being actively mauled by Jaws and also eating the hottest wings Hooters has to offer. Some one help me please...
So I am like 90% sure that I might die soon. First, because I am sick. And its not even a real sick. I am not vomiting and seeing Jesus everytime I close my eyes. At least then I could go to the hospital and then they would pump me full of medication and I would be well again. No, it is just a cold. A lousy cold that will not go away no matter what I do. I have tried eating 5 packages of emergen-c in one day, putting Vicks on the bottom of my feet, taking vitamins, sleeping, and drinking 11 cups of orange juice. I love orange juice, but 11 cups in one day? Seriously? That is dedication for you.
p.s. Drinking that much orange juice will NOT cure your cold. It will only make you nauseous and make your little sister yell and scream and throw a tantrum because she really wanted some orange juice.
The second reason is I may have accidently eaten fish food. I have a pet fish, a blue beta named Jose-B (Jose died so my second fish got to be named after him), who I feed twice a day, for the most part. Sometimes I forget, but hey, who doesn't? Anyway, I usually feed him morning and night. Last night, I fed him and then I took my vitamin, whose container happens to be sitting right next to my fish food. This morning, I woke up in a total panic because I had dreamt that I had eaten the fish food and then died a horrible death. Then I got to thinking, what if I really did eat the fish food? Am I going to die? Or turn into a mermaid and be forced to wear a purple seashell bra and sing really great songs for the rest of my life??
You are probably thinking that I am retarded for not remembering if I ate the fish food or the vitamin. BACK OFF!! It was really late and I had like three different conversations going on through text. I am pretty sure I ate the vitamin, though.
Also, I was reading Hyperbole and a Half and she was talking about re-inventing the pain scale they use at hospitals. I decided my pain is like a combination of 4 and 5. It sucks, but death is not right around the corner. I probably have at least a month to live.
Mind one.
I've caught her sickness. I feel like I'm being actively mauled by Jaws and also eating the hottest wings Hooters has to offer. Some one help me please...
The Time I Got Kicked Out Of a Store and Flashed a Dude...All Before I Turned 4
Mind Two:
Everybody has embarrassing childhood stories. I, however, have less than most people. Most aren't very cautious when it comes to acting as a child. I was...extremely. I did very few reckless things. That phase doesn't usually start until about age 5 and by then, I had a little brother who was reckless enough for the both of us. Since I only have a few of them, I will tell them to you.
How I Got Kicked Out of a Store
I was really little, like 1. My mom's friend had me for the day and decided to go to a stereo shop. Well, when we got there, I apparently started screaming my head off and wouldn't stop. I am sure Lynn tried everything, from rocking me to screaming "Shut the hell up!!!", but nothing was working. Let me tell you, it wasn't a cute little scream that sounds a little annoying, but it is manageable. No. It was a long, loud, earsplitting scream that didn't ever end. I am sure after about 5 minutes it was extremely annoying. That would be the reason the salesman kicked us out of the store. And now I am forever banned from that Radio Shack. Haha, no, not really. I am not banned from any Radio Shack and probably never will be. But wouldn't that be great if I was?
How I Flashed a Dude
The details on this one are a little fuzzy. All I really remember is that I was three. Terrible threes, as they say. I have no idea where we were, but I do know that I loved Barbie. Like played with them everyday and got them as Christmas presents. Well, my mom being the great mom that she is, bought me a pair of Barbie underwear. I loved them and never wanted to take them off. Well, I was so excited that one time we went out in public, I happened to be wearing them...with a skirt. Some poor, innocent guy walked by and I, being all cute and excited, decided that that was the perfect moment to show off my new panties. I walked right up to him, and proudly pulled up my skirt. My mom was mortified and my dad thought that I would grow up to be a hooker. My poor parents.
How Barbie Became a Cancer Patient
When I was about 5, I still loved Barbie. By this time, I had a little collection going on. I had a big, plastic container full of Barbie's that I would play with every day. One day, as every child does, I though it would be a fantastic idea if I gave myself a haircut rather than having my mom do it. First, I decided to practice on my Barbie. I did a pretty stand-up job. I proudly showed her off to my mom. She looked at me and said good job. (I didn't tell her about my haircut that was to take place.) Then I asked her how long she thought it would take for it to grow back. She then gave me this look, which today I have come to know as her "did you really just ask that look?", and had to tell me that her hair was never coming back. That threw my haircut out the window and I didn't get another one for a really long time because I thought it would never grow back.
Everybody has embarrassing childhood stories. I, however, have less than most people. Most aren't very cautious when it comes to acting as a child. I was...extremely. I did very few reckless things. That phase doesn't usually start until about age 5 and by then, I had a little brother who was reckless enough for the both of us. Since I only have a few of them, I will tell them to you.
How I Got Kicked Out of a Store
I was really little, like 1. My mom's friend had me for the day and decided to go to a stereo shop. Well, when we got there, I apparently started screaming my head off and wouldn't stop. I am sure Lynn tried everything, from rocking me to screaming "Shut the hell up!!!", but nothing was working. Let me tell you, it wasn't a cute little scream that sounds a little annoying, but it is manageable. No. It was a long, loud, earsplitting scream that didn't ever end. I am sure after about 5 minutes it was extremely annoying. That would be the reason the salesman kicked us out of the store. And now I am forever banned from that Radio Shack. Haha, no, not really. I am not banned from any Radio Shack and probably never will be. But wouldn't that be great if I was?
How I Flashed a Dude
The details on this one are a little fuzzy. All I really remember is that I was three. Terrible threes, as they say. I have no idea where we were, but I do know that I loved Barbie. Like played with them everyday and got them as Christmas presents. Well, my mom being the great mom that she is, bought me a pair of Barbie underwear. I loved them and never wanted to take them off. Well, I was so excited that one time we went out in public, I happened to be wearing them...with a skirt. Some poor, innocent guy walked by and I, being all cute and excited, decided that that was the perfect moment to show off my new panties. I walked right up to him, and proudly pulled up my skirt. My mom was mortified and my dad thought that I would grow up to be a hooker. My poor parents.
How Barbie Became a Cancer Patient
When I was about 5, I still loved Barbie. By this time, I had a little collection going on. I had a big, plastic container full of Barbie's that I would play with every day. One day, as every child does, I though it would be a fantastic idea if I gave myself a haircut rather than having my mom do it. First, I decided to practice on my Barbie. I did a pretty stand-up job. I proudly showed her off to my mom. She looked at me and said good job. (I didn't tell her about my haircut that was to take place.) Then I asked her how long she thought it would take for it to grow back. She then gave me this look, which today I have come to know as her "did you really just ask that look?", and had to tell me that her hair was never coming back. That threw my haircut out the window and I didn't get another one for a really long time because I thought it would never grow back.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Monster. I am.
Mind one.
Many of you reading this blog have at one point or another in your life, drank that sweet poison..Monster. Now on a normal day, Monster is like any other drink to me, kinda fruity, but good. A few days ago, Monster grabbed my restraint, and threw it over the border. I was overcome by this madness, I was uncontrollable. I was in p.e.!!! Wait...That last part sucked. Being super hyper, and having every mental restraint thrown away is never the best thing to happen to a person. To have it happen at school is horrific. To have it happen during the last period of the day, that's just cruel, and to have that period be P.E. where I was expected to channel this building energy constructively...I felt like I was in a concentration camp.
That day was station day!! Yay!! :D I was so wired that I was bouncing when I walked.
The first few stations went remarkably smoothly, meaning that we were only yelled at five or six times a minute, however, the next station, the "Skier hops" station. It all went bad.
These hops are supposed to be like bunny hops but side to side. I didn't want to ski hop. I wanted to explore a jungle!! :D So that's what I did.
This is what I felt like I did.
Obviously my high school gym does not have vines growing ceiling to floor. I wasn't wear a Jack Hannah explorers hat, and sadly, I wasn't carrying a machete... So in my mind I was hacking my way through a dense jungle. In reality. I was doing this....
My mental image was much cooler. This reality thing sucks.
Finally the sub decided that absolutely nothing would be achieved in the gym, and sent us outside to get some fresh air.
Horrible idea...
She just turned a five nine whirlwind of energy lose upon the world. In the gym I was confined. Outside, there was nothing to stop me or hold me back.
I quickly rounded up a group of observers and decided. "Hey!! I've got a lot of energy. I should tell a story!! And make movements to match it!!"
Great idea.
I decided to hit them with the tale of the Janitor. In our school are these creepy vents in the ceiling. From these vents come strange noises, almost like something is up there, so I improvised and told a story of epic proportions.
(I told this story as if the listener was the actual janitor, and I was retelling their story. Its all very odd)
"Your a Janitor!!! You're sweeping the halls, but the bell!! It has rung!!"
"My god your time has come!!! Quick to the closet!! Your time is short, and you are on a mission from the queen!!!"
"Now!! There is a trap door above you! This goes to the ventilation system! You must investigate!!! Climb those shelves!!"
The rest of the class period was consumed with me acting out the janitor climbing the shelves, roaming the ventalation system for hours, then reporting on the students and the private conversations.
The other day, Mind one, Mind two, and the non-blogger C-frizzle. (Mind two is going to have to explain that one.) Saw the ladder and trap door leading into the vents from the janitors closet, I'm very scared.
Mind Two:
Haha this story was one of the best she has ever told! My favorite quote-"You knock over a bottle of pledge. It's ok. Your the janitor. You'll get it later" Probably funnier if you were there. Oh well.
Now for the C-frizzle story and the end of the Janitor story.
My best friend, Cecily, ran in the school election this year for vice-president. (She won). When you run, you have to make a video and give a speech. The guy she was running against can rap. I mean really rap. She thought everyone was going to vote for him because of his mad rapper skills. To stop this, she decided to make her video of her rapping. It was great. There was a chicken coop in the background (mine) and my brother dressed up as an old man. Not really dressed up, he wore the same clothes he wears everyday, he just already dresses like an old man. Anyway, you can't be a rapper without a rap name and hers was C-frizzle.
Yes, it is true we found the secret door to the ventilation system. Cecily and I were looking for some buckets that we could fill with water to wash off her chalk from the sidewalk (It said "vote Cecily"). The best person to ask how to clean something? The janitor. She said we should use the buckets in her closet. We went in said closet and then we saw it, THE LADDER. And above it, a trap door. We had found the ladder leading to the vents. I felt like Nancy Drew. And then, at that very moment, Mind One happened to be walking by. And we had to show her. Now, we know her story is true. Mind One is right...I'm very scared.
And then Cecily and I signed the ceiling of the janitor's closet cuz we are cool like that. Mission accomplished.
Many of you reading this blog have at one point or another in your life, drank that sweet poison..Monster. Now on a normal day, Monster is like any other drink to me, kinda fruity, but good. A few days ago, Monster grabbed my restraint, and threw it over the border. I was overcome by this madness, I was uncontrollable. I was in p.e.!!! Wait...That last part sucked. Being super hyper, and having every mental restraint thrown away is never the best thing to happen to a person. To have it happen at school is horrific. To have it happen during the last period of the day, that's just cruel, and to have that period be P.E. where I was expected to channel this building energy constructively...I felt like I was in a concentration camp.
That day was station day!! Yay!! :D I was so wired that I was bouncing when I walked.
The first few stations went remarkably smoothly, meaning that we were only yelled at five or six times a minute, however, the next station, the "Skier hops" station. It all went bad.
These hops are supposed to be like bunny hops but side to side. I didn't want to ski hop. I wanted to explore a jungle!! :D So that's what I did.
This is what I felt like I did.
Obviously my high school gym does not have vines growing ceiling to floor. I wasn't wear a Jack Hannah explorers hat, and sadly, I wasn't carrying a machete... So in my mind I was hacking my way through a dense jungle. In reality. I was doing this....
My mental image was much cooler. This reality thing sucks.
Finally the sub decided that absolutely nothing would be achieved in the gym, and sent us outside to get some fresh air.
Horrible idea...
She just turned a five nine whirlwind of energy lose upon the world. In the gym I was confined. Outside, there was nothing to stop me or hold me back.
I quickly rounded up a group of observers and decided. "Hey!! I've got a lot of energy. I should tell a story!! And make movements to match it!!"
Great idea.
I decided to hit them with the tale of the Janitor. In our school are these creepy vents in the ceiling. From these vents come strange noises, almost like something is up there, so I improvised and told a story of epic proportions.
(I told this story as if the listener was the actual janitor, and I was retelling their story. Its all very odd)
"Your a Janitor!!! You're sweeping the halls, but the bell!! It has rung!!"
The rest of the class period was consumed with me acting out the janitor climbing the shelves, roaming the ventalation system for hours, then reporting on the students and the private conversations.
The other day, Mind one, Mind two, and the non-blogger C-frizzle. (Mind two is going to have to explain that one.) Saw the ladder and trap door leading into the vents from the janitors closet, I'm very scared.
Mind Two:
Haha this story was one of the best she has ever told! My favorite quote-"You knock over a bottle of pledge. It's ok. Your the janitor. You'll get it later" Probably funnier if you were there. Oh well.
Now for the C-frizzle story and the end of the Janitor story.
My best friend, Cecily, ran in the school election this year for vice-president. (She won). When you run, you have to make a video and give a speech. The guy she was running against can rap. I mean really rap. She thought everyone was going to vote for him because of his mad rapper skills. To stop this, she decided to make her video of her rapping. It was great. There was a chicken coop in the background (mine) and my brother dressed up as an old man. Not really dressed up, he wore the same clothes he wears everyday, he just already dresses like an old man. Anyway, you can't be a rapper without a rap name and hers was C-frizzle.
Yes, it is true we found the secret door to the ventilation system. Cecily and I were looking for some buckets that we could fill with water to wash off her chalk from the sidewalk (It said "vote Cecily"). The best person to ask how to clean something? The janitor. She said we should use the buckets in her closet. We went in said closet and then we saw it, THE LADDER. And above it, a trap door. We had found the ladder leading to the vents. I felt like Nancy Drew. And then, at that very moment, Mind One happened to be walking by. And we had to show her. Now, we know her story is true. Mind One is right...I'm very scared.
And then Cecily and I signed the ceiling of the janitor's closet cuz we are cool like that. Mission accomplished.
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