I Broke My Ass, and El Kevin To the Rescue.

Mind Two:

I feel kind of bad that the Minds have been slacking on posting things for you guys, so today you get TWO stories!!

The first one, a story of an awesome waitress and co-waiter at the Olive Garden, which Mind One shall tell.

Mind one.
I got this.

First off, Mind Two and I have both been waitresses, so we understand that being awesome can either make or break a customers meal. Secondly, we also understand that a customer with a sense of humor the best thing ever. So here is a little story about how a table full of smartasses met two of the coolest people at the Nampa Olive Garden.

It all started out with the Minds and the Troll heading to Olive Garden to eat our collective body weight in breadsticks, and soup. The minds+Troll= a combination that could either end the world, or save it, we aren't really sure yet. When we first walk in, there is a bit of a scuffle among the waitresses on who would seat us, I'd like to think that they were fighting over who could have us, but in reality we probably looked like trouble and they were fighting over who had to take us. We finally get seated, and our waitress comes up to take our drink order. She asks us what we want to drink, then leans down and says this.
"One of my co-workers thinks that guy at the corner booth looks like Joseph Gordan-Levitt. But he looks like Joseph Gordan-Levitt if he did ten years of meth."

She then walks away to get our drinks. This was a sign that the rest of the night would be epic.
As the night went on, our server got a little busy. And we were still eating enough bread sticks to feed a third world country for a few years. Our server realized this and enlisted the help of one of her co-workers. Now when a basket of bread sticks starts making its way to our table, we all got a little excited. Then deeply saddened when we realized that the person carrying them was not our server. Sad faces all around. Then the bread sticks stopped. I'm very sure that we all looked like we were going to attack. Because the server just sat the basket on the edge of the table and started to edge away. I couldn't let him escape.
M1: "El Kevin..."
EK: "That's my name..."
M2: "El? Like. The spanish." (Mind two is reaaaaaal bad at spanish so the fact she recognized this was a serious accomplishment.)
T: "Yayayayayay bread sticks." *insert horrifying eating sounds here. Troll may be little but she eats like a T-rex.*
M1: "That is fantastic."
EK: "Yeah, but my manager is going to make me change it..." *here he walked away looking like a kicked puppy.*

Now maybe because he had brought us food, or maybe because we were all feeling a little like activists, or maybe we just wanted to cause a ruckus. We all decided to write a petition on a notecard that Mind one found in her bag. (Cause I'm a freaking prepared little soldier.) It went something like this.

"We, the customers of olive garden, would like to insist that El Kevin be allowed to keep his name tag just as it is." Then we all signed it and slipped it to our waitress.

Fast forward a few months. Mind two and I are back at Olive garden because we are fatasses and eat there wayyy too often. We told our waitress the story of El Kevin, and she told us that yes, he still had his name tag, and that the waitress that we had that night before, was her best friend. She even offered to go fetch El Kevin for us. He remembered us. Told us we were awesome.

And that dear readers is a prime example of how you can never be as cool as the Minds. Ever. Not even if there is a fire.

Mind Two:
The second, a tale of Mind One's complete and utter lack of grace that Mind Two shall tell, if she can stop laughing long enough.

First off, when Mind One asks you to go on an adventure with her, you never say no because something hilarious and/or amazing is about to happen. Which is why today, when Mind One entered the counselors office (where I was doing my independent study because I got banned from the library, the story which I will tell later) and asked me to go with her, I couldn't refuse. At this time of day, the storm that had been brewing hit us full blast.  I mean hail and wind and snow and rain, coming at us all at the same time.  There was snow and ice everywhere. Mind One and I had to make a mad dash for her car, which she explained to me this adventure was because she had to go to a teachers house and get a movie that was going to be watched in a class. The reason I was the tag-along was because she wasn't exactly sure where the house was and didn't want to look like an idiot by herself. I have absolutely no idea where this teacher lives, but I do know his son. I called his son to see if he would give us directions to his house, except apparently The Boy Who Ripped His Pants (yep, it was a teacher's kid who ripped his pants) doesn't know how to answer his phone. After leaving him a nasty voice message, Mind One and I decide that we can totally find this house on our own. Because we do know that The Boy is probably there and we also know what his car looks like. And surprise, it didn't actually take us that long to find. So we get there and the weather is still going balls to the walls. All Mind One wanted to do was get the movie, which was in the mailbox. However, I was not going to let The Boy get away with not answering his phone. As I go running up to his house, Mind One goes sprinting past me, trying to get out of the cold as fast as she can. Watching this, I can tell something bad is about to happen. Mind One lands the first step on the porch, skips the next two, and completely wipes out. Spread-eagle lying on the ground in pain.
Here's a visual:

Mind one cutting in, that is the most accurate picture ever. EVER.

Mind two again.

So mind one broke a flower pot on the porch. Not like cracked it either. Like snapped it into two pieces when she kicked it with her flailing limbs. And about that time, the boy opens the door and sees mind one lying on the ground and me laughing so hard I'm crying and can't breathe. And he just kind of shakes his head. Like he expected this from us. And then informs us that he thought someone was being shot on his front porch. Thanks for running outside immediately to check.

Not So Happily Ever After

Mind one.
Single. Again. So I'm making a post about break ups. With Disney, and various other hilarious things about becoming single (AKA awesome) again.

Mind two:

Alright, Clearly I am at a better place now, than where I was previously, but just remember ladies, whenever a guy breaks your heart, it's his fault, not yours, and eating that whole can of frosting is totally okay. 

How to Drive in the Winter: A Helpful Tutorial by Mind One

Mind one.
Weather has magic properties, because anytime it snows, or gets foggy, or even rains too hard, people loose their shit while driving. So here is a guide on how to survive this hazardous driving, and not be that dumbass stuck in the median of the freeway.

1. This: "Oh my tires are spinning, I should let off the gas, then gently ease back on."
NOT THIS: "OH GOD OH GOD WHEELS DOING THE SPINNING BETTER FLOOR IT THEN I'LL BE FREE, FREEEEEDOM"

2. This: "Oh no I seem to be sliding a bit. I should gently ease off the gas pedal and correct it."
NOT THIS: "THIS ISN'T THE DIRECTION I WISH TO GO I SHOULD TOTALLY STOMP THE BREAKS AND WRENCH THE WHEEL ALL THE WAY FROM SIDE TO SIDE, OH LOOK IM SPINNING WHEEEEEE"

3. This: "That car in front of me is traveling at a safe speed for these road conditions, I'll give them their space and travel at this safe speed."
NOT THIS: "LOOK AT THIS NOOB ASSHOLE DRIVING ALL SLOW, I BETTER FLOOR IT, TAILGATE THEM FOR THREE MILES, MAKE THEM NERVOUS AS HELL, THEN DART AROUND THEM AND CUT OFF ONCOMING TRAFFIC."

4. This: "That car in front of me is loosing control, I should back off and maybe throw on my hazards to alert people behind me that there is a potential problem."
NOT THIS: "HAHA SUCKER TOO BAD NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU HOW TO DRIVE, I'M GOING TO SWERVE AROUND YOU AND SPEED PAST CAUSE I'M A RACE CAR DRIVER AND ICE CAN'T DO SHIT TO MY MAGIC UNICORN TREAD TIRES. OH SHIT I'M IN  THE DITCH TOO."

5. This: "Wow it's really foggy, I'll just turn my driving lights on, or just my dims, that way everyone can see me but I'm not blinding anyone."
NOT THIS: "FOG YAY DON'T MY BRIGHT ASS L.E.D. LIGHTS LOOK SICK IN THIS FOG. I CAN'T SEE AND YOU CAN'T SEE BUT IT'S LIKE A RAVE ON THE FREEWAY."

What I'm getting at here, is calm down, don't make any sudden moves, don't stomp on any of those pedals, and for christ's sake DIM YOUR EVERLOVING LIGHTS OR I'LL STAB YOU IN THE FACE WITH A RUSTY FORK.

The Minds are not lesbian, but Mind One is a dirty cheating whore.

Mind one.
This title.... I just.... *sigh*.

Mind Two:
I think the title alone is enough.

This story is actually a very good one and completely explainable, however, it usually takes Mind One a while to write them and this title is far to good to waste. So storytime!!!

Recently, the minds went to the movies together. And we got our seats and everything, and then I decided I had to go to the bathroom. So I get in there and I go to the farthest stall (because they're usually the cleanest) and shut the door. Except this door doesn't shut. It closes, but won't latch. So I move to the stall next to me. Except this door doesn't close at all. It just swings all the way through. But there are other people in this bathroom and I don't want them to think I'm trying to vandalize all the stalls or steal all the toiley paper or something. So I waited in the stall until all of them left. Then I raced across the room to another stall. And guess what. It still didn't latch. So I decided to go ahead and use it (which is pretty difficult if you've never been in this situation before). I finish peeing and stand up, with my shoulder leaning up against the door and try to button up my pants. Right about then, I hear the bathroom door open. At that same moment, I realized the door actually swung all the way open. I stumbled out of the stall like a drunk person, because I had been leaning on the door, and this poor lady caught in the middle of it just looks at me like, "Are you ok?" So I reassured her I was by telling her, "Don't worry, just trying to do up my pants." She found a stall as fast as she could to avoid talking to me anymore. I just hope her stall latches better than mine.

Signs You Would Be Friends With the Minds

Mind one.
I've been told that I find across as unfriendly. That is just crap. I'm incredibly easy to befriend. If you know the right things. So here is a checklist to see if you could hang with mind one.

Not only do you want to be involved in the hunger games, you want to win that shit.
Chances are that the music you listen to hits nearly every genre known to man.
You either become utterly obsessed over something, or remain completely disinterested.
Food. If any shape or form isn't safe around you.
Caffeine is a large part of your diet, which is impressive considering your ability to shovel food in.
Three words: Bitchy. Resting. Face.
Disney anything. Followed by a horror movie is normal.
Nicholas Sparks anything is not to be watched.
War movies are acceptable viewing material anytime.
Christmas music belongs in the same box of shame as the twilight series. (Mind Two: The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!)
Dressing attractively will not happen me than two days in a row.
Dressing like a homeless grandmother will happen for weeks on end and that's okay.
Diet, fat-free, sugar-free, or anything along those lines will not be eaten. Take your calories like a real woman.
Sexual jokes will be made, in every conversation.
Having a brain to mouth filter hasn't happened since the first grade.
Locking yourself in your room and watching days of netflix on end is perfectly fine. In fact if you don't do this, something is probably wrong.
Everything is better with music. Everything. Whilst listening to music worlds could be won.

 

Mind two:
Lipgloss. If you also own 40 tubes of lipgloss, but have worn two of them maybe once, we could be friends.

If you believe a can of frosting is a perfectly acceptable food choice, we can be friends.

If the only things you enjoy about fall are pie and hot coffee, we can be friends.

If you like country music, we can be friends.

If you are ok with sexual jokes, we can be friends. Because if you leave the sexual innuendo door open even the slightest bit, I will come crashing through it like the kool-aid man.

If you like to discuss the things you see on pinterest, FUCK YES WE CAN BE FRIENDS.

If you are not opposed to swearing, excessively, we can be friends.

If you make me food, we can be friends. But not cupcakes. Because I am the fucking queen of making cupcakes and if you try to take my crown I will stab you with it and then wipe the blood off on my apron.

Also you can't be opposed to slightly graphic descriptions. Of anything.

And if you bring me coffee without me asking you, I will automatically love you forever and ever.

Reasons why I will be a soldier, not a teacher.

Mind one.
The other day someone informed me that I would be a great teacher. After I finished laughing hysterically, I proceeded to destroy that idea. I would not be a good teacher. And here is why.

1. I would not deal with skipping class.

2. I'd be the asshole teacher that when a kid did skip my class I would have a pop quiz. Worth like thirty points, and it wouldn't be something you could make up later unless you had an excused absence. And the questions would be things like. "What color is my shirt? What is the color of the ceiling? What are the colors of the American flag?"

3.

Mind two:

Honestly,  I would be anything that let's me wear a crown.

What It's Like To Be a Senior in High School. (The unedited, non-Hallmark version)

Mind one.
Growing up as kids, we were force fed ideas of how High School would be amazing. It's an epic four year journey. You're Frodo Baggins and your friends are the fellowship. Following that analogy, Mount Doom is graduation, and senior project is the One Ring. (Sidenote here: I'm not Frodo. I hate him. Sam deserves all the credit. But that is a debate for another time. I'm more like Legolas. I do cool shit and don't talk a lot, and get things done. Mind two is my Gimli.) Halmark and Lifetime and Disney have been shoveling heartfelt, well meaning, changing point in your life crap down our throats since birth. I feel like I should make some attempt, here in the last year of my High School education, to explain why High School is not like the movies.

To start off with, once you hit high school, everyone becomes deeply concerned with your emotions. You'll be approached by more than one person, likely more than once, with things like. "Ready for all those hormones?" "Just stay positive, it's a rough time." or "Don't be afraid to talk to me, I'm here." And all of that sounds great. Until you tell them that you're fine, everything's good. Then they give you skeptical looks. Like come on kid, don't lie, tell me what's wrong. They are almost disappointed that you don't have something wrong with you. This will continue your whole high school career. In fact, pretty much your entire existance as a teenager will be filled with people being overly interested in how you feel. Here is my advice on this:

• When people genuinely care about you and are concerned, talk to them. Free all those emotions, because the will bottle up to the point where you just angst your way around. 

• If you are happy, just doing fine. Tell people that. Even if they don't believe you. 
• If you are not happy. And not doing fine. Tell someone. Someone you trust. Because angsting alone is just not very much fun. Your best friend is a good choice here. Because you can angst together.

• There is a 10,000% chance that at some point your emotional levels will be flatter than the plains of Oklahoma. If you are anything like me that will be your emotional standpoint for 98% of high school. I didn't give a damn. Still don't. About most anything or anyone. I don't exactly recommend this because at some point this state of no emotion (except anger, you'll still be able to be pissed off.), will crack and you'll be drowning in feels with no way out. And unlike everyone else who has been suffering a roller coaster of emotions through out high school, you don't know how to deal with feelings. Feel a spark of empathy for a character in a book? What is this madness, what is feelings, what is, what. So once again, I don't recommend genocide on your emotions. It makes things easier in the short run, but in the long run you will have to deal with them.

Secondly, brace yourself because the hormones really are coming. Everyone gets impacted in different. I'll keep using my personal experiences as an example. The only real difference I noticed, was just amplification. I already didn't give a damn, but now I didn't give a damn more. I also became more sarcastic, and all over I became the poster child for teenage passive aggressive rage. Which really just means that I didn't care about things, unless I had been annoyed enough, then I hated them.

Hormones affected my classmates in various ways. For some people they had enough feels for everyone in the world. Seriously, they would be nearly hysteric over someone else's breakup.

For some, they discovered their genitals and proceeded to hump everything in sight.

Others acted out.

The last two are not recommended. Basically, don't set expectations for high school based on other peoples horror stories. Just run with it. What happens to you, can be the exact opposite of what happened to me. There is no right and wrong here. There is only survive.

I could keep going, but really it's just more of the same idea. Every single person is unique, and every single high school experience will be unique. If you judge yourself off of other peoples expectations, you will fail every time. Set your own standards and live up to them, it won't always be easy, but just remember. When you graduate high school STD free, childless, clean and sober, without an addiction to anything rougher than sugar and caffeine, and you go off and start a life, saying no to parties was really the best choice. Remember kids, herpes and children are forever.
 MIND TWO YOUR TURN.

Mind Two:

SENIORITIS. SUCKS. BALLS. I NEVER WANT TO DO ANYTHING EVER. NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER. WHICH IS WHY I'M WRITING THIS INSTEAD OF STUDYING. 

Also, by high school you should have learned some grammar, like how to properly capitalize a title, for instance...Mind One. (M1. I have you here to peer edit for a reason.)

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