POPE'S DOPE

HERE ARE SOME REASONS WHY THE POPE IS PRETTY DOPE, AND I WOULD NOT BE OPPOSED TO TAKING ON THE POSITION AT SOME POINT IN MY LIFE. 

-You get to boss a lot of people around. The power is enticing, obviously. (Shit is coveting power sinful?)

-Your shoes can be super sparkly and people won’t bat an eye.

-Really cool hats. Like Pharrel circa 2013 has nothing on you.

-Your vehicle has your name built into it: Popemobile. Even if I called my car the Alexandramobile, people still wouldn't be inclined to let me lead a billion people in the pursuit of eternal life. 

-Smoke signals are a legitimate form of communication used by the Vatican. Mad respect. 

-You stand in front of large gatherings of people, tell them stuff in a dead language, and they still nod and think, "Yeah, okay cool. I like this guy's message."

-The job comes with furnished housing, which is pretty nice. 

But let's be real. I wanna be the pope so I can wear this and people will be like @Pope You have very nice taste and I will be like Thank u my child, @god has #blessed me with sweg.

Pagan Ritual Mistaken for Environmentalist Protest

July 20, 2015

BERKELEY, CA—Authorities were notified this morning that a grove of eucalyptus trees on the UC Berkeley campus had been occupied by a group of naked Bay Area residents. Police arrived on the scene expecting to find members of the Tree Spirit Project, the same group that had protested naked there last Saturday in an attempt to draw attention to plans to remove large swaths of trees in the East Bay area as a wild fire prevention measure. Upon arrival, however, police were surprised to hear rhythmic chanting issuing from a ring of protestors. Says police Lieutenant Chris Keeley, “At first, I thought they were just chanting protest slogans.” After realizing that the group wasn’t speaking English, he says he decided to do more investigating. “That’s when I noticed the old lady was levitating.” The ‘old lady’ in question was Donna Wallock, head priestess at the gathering, who claims she accomplished her anti-gravitational feat using advanced yoga and meditation techniques. Like the protestors from the Tree Spirit Project group, Wallock and her followers also wished to raise awareness about the funds FEMA plans to allocate to tree removal. Ms. Wallock clarified, however, that while the Tree Spirit Project, “addressed the problem with a peaceful naked protest, I have been guided by the spirit of the Mother Earth to take up the fight from a different angle. If our call is answered, the Berkeley city council and the FEMA directors will face a nasty rash in the shape of the Vegan Society logo and indigestion for the next two moons.” Ms. Wallock, who has been a resident of the Berkeley Hills for over 25 years, is a respected witch in the local Wiccan communities, an experienced communicator with the goddess Mother Earth, and an active volunteer at the Berkeley Public Library. Her husband, Eli Wallock, is a Professor Emeritus in the College of Chemistry at UC Berkeley. 

Here to Help

Hey, there! It’s me, your favorite Microsoft product. C’mon, don’t look at me like that! With this twisty aluminum body and bulging eyes, who could forget me? And who could forget that wild night we spent on May 13^th, 2004. That was crazy! Remember when you tried to close your document without saving? Remember when I auto saved it for you at 9:43:12 PM, and an again at 9:43:48 PM after you realized you had forgotten to include your name and the date? Remember when I offered to help you write that letter and you told me to never offer you help again? Well, I remember. I have good news and bad news. The good news? Someone screwed up on Windows 10 and I’m here to help you again! The bad news? You’re still a terrible writer and your third grade teacher was right, your trouble playing with others has led to a lonely adulthood. Luckily I’m here to offer you moral support along with the constant nagging you never knew due to your mother’s absence during your childhood. Welcome to the new age of technology. Here are some things I’m now equipped to help you with.

• Your letter. (Old habits die hard.)
• Your covenant with the devil.
• Your other covenant with E. L. James.
•  Your 50 Shades fanfic.   
• Your shitty personality.
• Your divorce settlement.
• Your salty emails to your salty ex.
• Your vision of a future without me.
• Your opinions of paper clips, animated or otherwise.
• Your grammar. (“Your an asswipe Clippy” is clearly wrong. I believe you meant “You’re an asswipe, Clippy.”)

FREAKY FIESTA

All hail Taco Tuesday, my favorite designated day of the week that celebrates good tortillas and good fun. Today I took Jean out of my pocket, and after dusting some scone crumbs off of her it was time to partake in the Freaky Fiesta I had planned for us. For our first freaky activity, I suggested to Jean that she eat a large container of margarita salt. Because she is a cat and she is made of plastic, she had no choice but to agree to my ingenious plan. While Jean was busy becoming perilously dehydrated, I took a moment to set up the piñata. When that was ready, I told Jean that she had permission to stop eating the margarita salt, but she had already finished the whole thing! She is such a fiend. Then I told her it was time to help bat at the piñata. I explained since I was the only one with opposable thumbs and a body not made of plastic, I would take her turns too. To this Jean made no reply, probably because she is an inanimate object but also maybe because she was catatonic from high sodium intake. Either way, I swung at that piñata like nobody’s business until all of the dry pinto beans I had stuffed it with came pouring out. They hit me all over my head and shoulders and arms and that’s when I realized that pinto beans are actually very hard when they are uncooked! This was a great discovery and now I have even more reason to celebrate Taco Tuesday since it is now the day I made it hail dry beans from a smashed cardboard container. Freaky!

Love at First Swipe

To the guy I was talking to on Tinder last night:

It was great to meet you today! Somehow the initial meeting of two people who have never met before is the most awkward and terrifying thing to me. Good thing we got that out of the way when I ran into you while shopping for specialty jam with my entire family in tow! Our conversation was great, and I opened up a lot more than I would have guessed I could with someone who I don’t know at all. You asked me (and my dad) “What are your plans for today?” and I responded, “This is it. This is our big outing for the day.” And I wasn’t even making that up so you would like me. I know it’s a turn on when a girl spends her free time wandering around malls with her family, and that’s really the most exciting thing I’ve got going on any weekend. In fact, as I write this, and probably as you read it in a couple of hours, I am sitting in bed eating chocolate and thinking about whether my new shoes might be available in a half size smaller. I’m just a normal girl doing normal things. Speaking of normal things, running into you at your place of work just 12 hours after you told me you worked that was a total coincidence, I swear. I mean I couldn’t have planned it better myself if I had tried, but I didn’t plan it at all, which is basically a giant flashing sign from the universe saying “MEANT TO BE.”

And now that you ask, I guess I’ll just have to be upfront with it: I don’t have anything going on after six tonight. I’m not 21 yet, but maybe we could grab a drink? Like boba or some fresh-blended grass juice? You could pick me up and say hi to my dad again, or you could skip saying hi to my dad, but either way, do you think you could pick me up? I don’t drive. Oh, and my curfew is at 11.

Can’t wait to see you!

It Ain't So Bad Being Amish

How can you raise the roof if you’ve never raised a barn?  This is what I ask people when they ask me if it’s boring to be Amish. Of course it’s not boring. Have you ever spent an entire day trying to stay in God’s good books? Well maybe you should try it sometime. If you don’t, you’re probably going to hell, where you’ll spend eternity writhing in flames while little dudes with horns and ridiculous sunburns watch you and laugh. That is some next level shit. So to escape the eternal hellfire, I’ve turned to the ways of the Old Dutch Anabaptists. And let me just tell you, it ain’t so bad being Amish.

First off, let’s get this one thing straight. We were way ahead of the curve on the organic and farm-to-table movements. Same goes for beards, and the entire hand-crafted-everything movement. Basically, we were Williamsburg when Williamsburg was still a bunch of farmers living in New Netherland. So when your mister tells you that he’s into rustic hand-hewn furniture, ask him if he also drives a buggy and reads scriptures by candle light in the house he built with his own two hands. If he answers yes to all of these, there’s a good chance he’s Amish and a great chance he’s a keeper.

Some people ask me if it was tough to give up Forever 21 and jeans for pinafores and aprons. To that I say no. At least now that I’m covered from mid-neck to ankle, I won’t have to worry about skin cancer. Plus, I was always big fan of bonnets. And true, it’s been a long while since I’ve spritzed myself with Victoria’s Secret Pure Seduction Body Mist, but on the up side, I’ve always loved the stench of livestock and body odor smells awesome to me now, like those artisanal musky perfumes that mostly just smell  like an old man’s skin flaps.

To say that the Amish are behind the times and don’t know what’s going on is just untrue. I get all my news in a timely manner from Hiwwe wie Driwwe. And if you think it’s got an unpronounceable title, that’s because it’s in Pennsylvanian German, you uncultured swine. Now please tell me how I’m supposed to say Reddit or Imgur without sounding like an idiot bullfrog. It is true that the word of God has commanded us to shun modern technology, but that’s fine. No TV means no chance of Bachelorette spoilers. The only story we care about ends with a dude being crucified and then coming back to life, and someone spilled the beans on that two-part season finale when togas were still cool. Besides, we’ve managed to capitalize on the tawdry circus that is reality TV just as much as the next group of social outcasts. I mean, just because God told us to live the simple life doesn’t mean we have to bow out on a chance to capitalize on the general American population’s insatiable thirst for exploitative drivel.

So would I call myself Amish? You betcha. I’d even go as far as to say Am-100%.

This is Jean

MEET JEAN. Jean is a cat. Jean is my only friend. Jean always listens to me and she is made of plastic so she never coughs up hairballs. She also doesn’t need a litter box or food or water or anything really except for my unconditional love because, as I just mentioned, she is made of plastic. She’s made of a material that was probably engineered by a group of men wearing collared shirts with t-shirt sleeves and her plastic was probably intended for something really important like ball point pens or those training toilets they make for little kids. My mom told me not to put Jean in my mouth because Jean is made of plastic and all plastics are toxic. Also my mom said it is not nice to use your only friend as a chew toy. I named Jean myself. I could have called her Twinkie, because of the unnatural yellow-orange color she was spray painted at the factory, or Butt Face because her mouth looks like an anus, but I went with Jean instead. Jean is pronounced like the thing that Levi Strauss invented during the gold rush, not like a fancy French man. I named her Jean because it is normal to name your plastic cat after a type of clothing. I am looking forward to many fun adventures with Jean. Most people will think I’m by myself, but surprise! I am with my best friend, except my best friend is at the bottom of my purse hanging out with my spare change and gum wrappers right now. That’s some efficient transportation if you ask me. 

(just because my mom said not to doesn't mean I won't)

WIMB

Did anyone ever tell you that the eyes are windows to the soul? Well they were right…with one caveat: though it’s true that the window to a man’s soul is found somewhere amid all the muscle tissue and optical nerves, the window to a woman’s soul is actually located in her handbag, which often contains telling tokens of her housekeeping and beauty regimens.

My go-to bag right now is a woven tote that I found at a church thrift sale, and it's adorned with an indigenous woman surrounded by palm trees on the front. I really enjoy this imagery because it reminds me of the colonialism that made my beachy vacay possible. Nothing says “summer” to me quite like systematized oppression! I also really like this bag because it has a small zip pocket sewn into the interior. It’s really helpful for keeping little items in place! Usually, I toss my keys, and spare change in when I’m on the go. I also always keep a list of my allergies for emergencies (#haters, penicillin) and a moist towlette that I found in an airport bathroom in 2007 because I’m a huge freak about keeping things neat and tidy!

This tote is great for days on the beach or out and about around town because it is surprisingly spacious inside. Since I have an unhealthy preoccupation with apocalypse legends of yore, it’s super important to me to always leave the house prepared. For a night out with friends, I’ll always bring along my little first aid kit stocked with band aids (so handy when someone gets a blister!), as well as a rock the size of a small child’s head to hurl at potential attackers. My phone battery has been draining more and more quickly these days, so I make sure I've always got my phone charger and wall adapter, along with every other electronic cord I’ve acquired in the last ten years. Better safe than sorry!

I tend to get a bit peevish if I’m hungry so I make sure to keep a healthy snack with me on the go. Some people like granola bars or trail mix as a good source of protein, but I prefer barbecued turkey legs. There is something about ripping meat off a bone in public that curbs my hunger jitters in a way that rolled oats and chocolate chips just can’t compete with.

I’m cursed with feeling perpetually dehydrated, and to combat this I’m pretty vigilant about carrying water (in a reusable, eco-friendly, anti-global-warming, anti-conspiracy, anti-hole-in-the-ozone bottle) and lip balm with me everywhere. I have loved the EOS brand lip balms since I first saw them a couple years ago, and I came to love them even more once I realized that if you purse your lips while applying the balm, eventually your cute little egg turns into a little white nipple that soothes chapped lips. Anyway, I told my aunt how much I liked the EOS brand and she generously offered to make a lip balm for me herself! (My aunt is super hands-on.) Though it turned out her version is just a vaguely spherical glob of petroleum jelly wrapped up in Saran-Wrap, I love it so much because it is such a creative way to combat the power of capitalist marketing in convincing young girls like me that the best way to apply lip balm is using something that resembles a cheap white-chocolate truffle.

Like I mentioned before, this bag has tons of room, so some stuff tends to sink to the bottom where it is promptly forgotten by yours truly. This stuff is usually just little odds and ends like old gum or a button I never sewed back on my pants; I’ve since stopped wearing pants. Oh, and my pet gerbil. Sorry about that, Simon. 

Life lesson

improv4charity crew muggin'

Hey, hi, hello again. If you don't recognize me, don't worry. I'm not offended. It's been a while. Did you do something new with your hair? It looks nice. I’m sitting here typing like God dammit Alexandra be funny!! (and we can all see how well that’s working). I guess I could jump right back into posting the normal junk with no explanation for the hiatus, and people wouldn’t really care one way or the other, and that’s all fine but I think that there needs to be at least a little bit of explanation, if only for the selfish reason that it means I can put off posting something that requires more work. Also don’t you care at least a little bit what I’ve been up to? Sure, you do. I mean I know you’ve been dutifully keeping tabs with me on my pretty website, but that’s where I get to post photos with nice filters and this is where I get to let loose. So buckle up.

So this blog fell to radio silence on October 23^rd, a day like any other. And why did it fall to radio silence, you ask? A number of reasons including acute procrastination, loss of interest, loss of inspiration, loss of dignity, etc. Do I regret it? Truthfully, I do not. I’m really talented at creating multiple unnecessary side projects for myself which are inadvisable to continue during school, and this blog is unquestionably one of them. Now that school is out, though, I’m sort of trying to get it back up and running again but who knows what will happen??? Children, this is a lesson that nothing, not even a scheduled post to the internet, is predictable.

So where did I go in the interim, you ask? Was I pushed by an unfathomably powerful force into a vortex? Well if the force is schoolwork and the vortex is Berkeley, then yes, that is exactly what happened. (Also, Berkeley is the nicest vortex I’ve ever encountered, though stress levels run uncommonly high.) Since taking the plunge into said vortex, some cool stuff has happened. My hair changed color twice, and as a result I accidentally dyed my entire body green and then pink. (Martian invader or extremely sunburnt, you can take your pick!) I tried my hand at a comedy magazine. Then on a whim one Sunday evening, I decided I would audition for an improv team for a better fit, and by some random stroke of luck I made the team. Auditioning for improv4charity was one of the best decisions I made all year because now, I can be a contributing member of society by getting up on stage and making a fool of myself. I think this is the first time I’ve done something charitable since I donated cans to a food drive in fourth grade when I was bribed by my superiors with the promise of pizza. Now to get me to do charity work you can bribe me with much more adult things like the promise of companionship or, at the very least, access to free alcohol. 

Of course, college is not just about debauchery. It is about debauchery and learning. My studies did occupy me, including the time I decided it would be easier to get up at 4 am to watch a lunar eclipse than it would be to try and count the number of visible stars in a patch of sky the size of a quarter, the time my building’s trash shoot caught fire and I was evacuated until 2:30 am the night before a midterm, and of course the time I tried and nearly succeeded to write a 12 page term paper the day it was due (I ended up with 10.5 pages). College has taught me that I can be stupid to a point, and knowing this is pretty darn comforting after spending the entirety of my life previous to college being responsible to a fault.

What’s my point here? Stay in school, don’t do drugs if you don’t want to, tie your shoe laces, laugh a lot, and don’t expect too much from anyone. We’re all human, we all screw up; the bumps keep us engaged.