Ugg boots. I don’t know that I will ever understand them.

I have some cheap, black boots with furry crap on the inside that I wear to shovel the driveway, or if I just need to run outside quickly but am being too lazy to put on real shoes. But no way am I going to spend $200 on a pair of fuzzy boots.

And I don’t care how warm and fluffy they feel on your feet. If you wear them with a miniskirt they are not going to keep your legs warm. And they are not going to prevent you from looking like an imbecile.
And then there’s the step down from simply furry on the inside to 4-inch hair completely covering the outside so that you look like a yeti.

Yes, I’ve seen at least two or three abominable snowmen wandering around this weekend. When the fur on your boots makes up about 70 percent of the material on your body, you look ridiculous.

In no way am I saying that I am an expert on fashion, because I’m not. I wear Beatles, Spy vs. Spy, and Transformers t-shirts with jeans and bright green running shoes. I’m not much of one to put a ton of thought into what I wear most of the time. I’m just different, but I do try not to look like a complete fool. So why pay so much to get that “I’m a complete conformist to “fashion” norms even though I look stupid” look?

I’d rather not have soggy, snow-covered hair surrounding my ankles all winter long, but if you feel so inclined, go for it. Join the yeti ranks in your leggings and puffy coat that is two sizes too small.

I think I’ll stick to being warm and covered when it’s ten degrees outside.

The other day I walked into the restroom at the mall.

I might just leave it at that.

Let people wonder.

But I have a thought and should continue before I forget about it.

So, as I was in the stall, preparing to leave, I hear a girl begin to sing. I’m not quite sure what song she was singing, but she was just outright singing. So I walk out of the stall and over to wash my hands, and she’s standing at the mirror sort of playing with her hair, still singing. And after a few seconds she keeps singing, only a bit softer now, and leaves the restroom.

Not that I’ve never seen people doing that before–because everyone thinks they can sing nowadays–but it just got me thinking. Or more conjuring up a plan. A plan that most likely will never happen, but it’s still a plan, and could be glorious if it ever did happen.

So you go a busy mall with a few friends, and you each go in to the restroom at different times, not talking, acting as if you’ve never met the others. When you are all in various stalls, one person will start singing a song, and gradually the others join in, eventually traveling into harmonies and such, creating some awesome bathroom music.

I think it could be quite entertaining, and interesting to see if any random strangers joined in, if they were convinced the singers did not come in together. It probably would never happen, but it is a fun thought.

I don’t really like semis to begin with. They may be handy for transport, but they are intimidating and often move a little too swiftly for their size.

Today I had a super encounter with said crazy trucker. I was trolling along in the middle lane on the highway, minding my own business, traveling at the speed limit, when lo and behold a semi is steadily moving closer behind me, not backing down. Now it was obvious he was exceeding his speed limit, but he was also passing mine. After a mile or so he did not back off, and proceeded to move into the third lane behind another vehicle (and it really ticks me off whenever any trucker does that, as there is no need to be in that lane, aside from it not being allowed). So, being a bit annoyed at this point, I sped up a couple miles-per-hour just so the third lane driver was slower than I was, ensuring he did not pass me in that way.

But even after I passed the other vehicle, the truck remained in the third lane back behind me for about 5 miles.
I began to feel a bit paranoid by this action. As if he was following me. Tracking me down just to make me mad. As if I didn’t already despise his presence. I felt like I was in the movie “Duel”, being chased down by some madman trucker for no apparent reason. Only I’m not Dennis Weaver. And we were on the highway instead of the middle-of-nowhere. However, Weaver did drive a Valiant in that movie (which is completely awesome), and since that was my first car, we have a special connection.
And although the guy didn’t try to run me off the road and kill me, he still pushed my buttons. And I know that is what he was doing. Because that’s what people do. I’m pretty sure people are out to get me. Just in general.
He did move back into the middle lane after that whole ordeal, right about the time I headed for the off-ramp. And I swear he had his arm in the air as he passed by, either a friendly wave or an obscene gesture, but I guess I will never know.

These dandy rubber rain boots have just become ever more prominent over the past couple of years, and went from the occasional occurrence to everyday sightings. Bright colors, crazy patterns, ugly ones, uglier ones, there’s no end to the madness!

Yet, as “fashionable” as they supposedly are (I don’t buy it, because to me they still just look like abominations), they just don’t seem to me like they would do the trick. Most people wear these giant floppy over-sized boots with their skinny jeans tucked in just so. But it seems to me that the extra two-inch area surrounding the leg would just invite that sudden downpour right in, creating a nice bath for your feet, and defeating the whole purpose of these rubber, Paddington Bear specials.

Not to mention it just looks downright goofy.

I did see one person this weekend (out of 100) who wore her boots underneath her jeans, and just rolled the jeans up a couple of times. It also looked a bit strange — not any more-so than the tucked-in jeans — but I deemed it slightly more acceptable in terms of logicality.

Yet sadly, I refuse to pay a minimum of $30 for some squeaky, rubber, super-high tops that will make me look like a little kid ready to go just in the rain puddles. Not to mention I really would look like that, since my legs are about two feet long. However you won’t see me jumping in any puddles anytime soon, as I can’t exactly even walk at the moment. But that’s another story.

I am currently taking two online classes. One of them is largely related to other business classes I’ve taken which I don’t need. The other is just completely and utterly unnecessary.

It’s called The Adult Learner. Well, first off, I am 23. An adult, I suppose, but hardly the “adult” they are probably looking for. I’ve been in school non-stop since Preschool. I think I’ve got it down pat.

So far in this class:
1. I’ve determined my learning style and written a paper on it.
2. I’ve read Tuesdays With Morrie and written a paper on it.
3. I’ve examined a fairy tale (Rumpelstiltskin, to be exact), analyzed it, and written a paper on it.

Currently, I:
1. Need to go to an ethnic restaurant, and write a paper on it.
2. Need to choose a “hot button” topic, and write a paper on it.
3. Need to examine what I’ve learned about myself from this class, and write a paper on it.

I’m pretty sure after over 5 years of college, I know how to write a paper. Heck, my blog writing is probably more “correct” than half of the papers students submit for these classes. And when will I ever need to determine a critical evaluation of a fairy tale?? Never.

And I’m sorry, but there is no way I can determine what Morrie would think about any restaurant I eat at. Yes, that is part of the paper I am to write this coming week. Ridiculous.

I’m quite sure this class is meant for adults who have had no schooling since high school, and are deciding to return for college, yet somehow it has become a requirement for graduation.

I know how to write. I know the difference between to, too, and two. I don’t want to be treated like a 5-year-old in my college course. I don’t want to be forced to “discuss” random topics with people I will never meet, and have to post a certain number of responses. I don’t want to go on a “field trip” by myself for my online class.

For an 8-week course, I will have written 6 papers. Papers about nothing. So far I have received no corrections or critiques on these papers, because there were no problems; obviously writing is not my problem. So why do I have to write a paper about everything unimportant in the world? I might as well write a paper about that last annoying sheet of toilet paper on the roll that NEVER pulls off completely. It’s such a waste, that unusable shredded bit of paper.

Maybe school is my problem. I feel so unmotivated with such unnecessary classes. But I can’t put in six years of good, sometimes useless work and not finish the job. Stupid degree requirements.

I just absolutely LOVE overhearing people say things that make NO sense of any kind, all the while knowing that those people are 100% confident in what they said, and believe there is true meaning behind it.

Recently, after seeing a girl get her photo taken down near the beach, I overheard her say, “I hate it when, like, the camera gets behind your head and it looks like bunny ears.”

???

Can anybody, in a right state of mind, tell me what that could possibly mean..?

First of all, when you are having your photo taken, the camera is generally in front of your head. It’s just common knowledge, if you want your face in the picture, that is.

Secondly, what do bunny ears have to do with anything? Cameras don’t look like furry woodland creatures. Nor do they resemble antennae that you might use to catch your favorite nightly sitcoms. (I guess that would “technically” be “rabbit ears”; but bunny, rabbit, same thing.)

I just can’t figure it out. I have taken thousands of pictures, and never have bunny ears magically appeared behind someone’s head because of something my camera conjured up while I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe my camera just isn’t sneaky enough. Or maybe I just don’t take pictures of people that crazy.

People have “bunny ears” if someone puts their fingers behind their head in a picture. Bunnies have bunny ears. TVs have rabbit ears. But cameras don’t get behind your head and create giant fuzzy ears of wonder.

I do like bunnies, though. Although, they don’t just appear, either.

It has come to my attention that I have not posted anything lately, because, quite frankly, I cannot come up with anything to say. So this is my attempt at throwing some thoughts into the air.

Here’s something. The conversation I just had with my husband:

Me- “Why are you eating that right now? Are you hungry?”
Mike- “I wanted to eat some because it sounded tasty.”
Me- “What in your right mind would make you think that cottage cheese sounds good right now??”
Mike- “It just sounded good.”
Me- “Why would you like cottage cheese?”
Mike- “There was a six-year span that I didn’t even eat it… It tastes great now!”
Me- “Well you should have just stayed there..”

And then he put the cottage cheese away while continuing to sing Journey songs at an annoyingly loud level. He was singing to the dog, mind you. And changing the words so that they related to the dog. Until I said to stop. And that’s about as far as that went. For the time being, anyway.

This is basically a day-to-day occurrence, only with varying foods. One day it’s sauerkraut, the next it’s artichoke hearts, or garlic (yes, straight garlic from a jar), or crazy tuna creations that look sadder than cat food. I’m not even sure the cat would eat that tuna. That’s how gross it looks.

I don’t have much else to say right now. My husband eats some weird, nasty food. And there’s not a whole lot I can do about it, except plug my nose and make something else for me to eat.

Oh, and he has a weird obsession with potato pancakes. Just saying.

This is our dog, Roxy. Pit bull and shepherd mix. She’s one of the most timid, anxious, paranoid dogs ever, yet the most loving and friendly dog I know. She’s nervous when there is no one home, and occasionally chews up random items that she’s not supposed to have, but always tells us when we come home with her scared behavior that she knows she’s done something wrong. I think she just freaks herself out during the day, wondering if we are ever coming home, and not realizing that we will always be home after work. She loves to run, even in our less-than-desirable-sized back yard. But I am pretty sure she may be the fastest dog alive. She’s not very tall, but she could take on a greyhound any day.

She listens well, gets scared easily by raised voices, and has a very expressive face. And she looks bored out of her mind when we are sitting around at home. Roxy is the greatest dog anyone could ask for.

I love taking pictures of her, it’s always so easy.

I love our dog.

Whoever determined that this was a desirable exercise outfit?

Nothing says “I’m getting in shape” like spandex and leg warmers. And don’t forget the leotard or the optional baggy, cut-up sweatshirt. Is it really more beneficial to wear these types of clothing while breaking a sweat, or did someone just decide at one point that it was an amazing way to dress and everyone should look as fabulous as they did. Maybe the fitness instructors used these outfits as a way of saying, “Hey! You could one day look as thin and ridiculous as we do, but until then, you will just look fat wearing this!” That doesn’t seem very nice, though, does it? No, it’s quite mean, really. Why would they say that..?

I was just a little tyke when people trotted around in such attire, so I have never had the pleasure of adorning any such thing, but it still makes me wonder. A sweatband won’t help much with a can of hairspray in gigantic, puffed-out hair. And I will never quite understand the point of a leotard over a pair of shorts or pants, when shorts and a shirt or tank is just as useful and maybe even easier to put on.

I guess I will never fully know or understand why this was the appropriate workout dress, but as far as I am concerned, spandex is definitely not for everyone, and I’m glad I do not have to dress that way.

It occurs to me on many occasions that perhaps I should focus more on what I allow myself to say. I am often seen as a somewhat quiet person, so many people do not realize this, but I have a bit of a filter problem when it comes to spouting out things at the wrong time about complete strangers.

Perhaps the reason I do not care as much is because they are, in fact, strangers, and chances are slim I will ever see them again. And most times I do not believe anyone actually hears me say anything, but there’s always the possibility. But after this past weekend I fear that I may get myself in trouble one of these days.

Let’s just say that late at night, while driving out of the 7-Eleven parking lot, is not the time to yell “What are you looking at!?” to an insanely creepy guy who is quite possibly on drugs staring through the windows of the car as you drive away. And because he stopped behind the car, took a step toward it while giving the finger, and just stood there all horror movie-like, I know for a fact he heard me say something. Yet I still have the defense that he could not have heard what I said exactly, nor known that I was saying it to him, as it’s always possible I could have been yelling at my husband, who was driving the car at the time. Nevertheless, those defenses would not stop a crazy person from doing me physical harm.

I generally only say things when I am very annoyed by the actions of someone, and I have no control over anything they are doing.

For instance, the crazy lady at Walmart yelling at her children, swearing at them and telling them to “shut up” in Spanish. I am all for discipline, but outright yelling in a public place in a different language because you cannot control your children is a bit frustrating to me. And if they really are misbehaving that badly, then leave the store and wait until you can come back without them.

Then there’s always the people at the beach, letting their five young children take off around the playground while they hang out and completely ignore them the entire time. Never mind the forty other older children pushing them around when they know better than to do that, or the hundreds of tourists or creepy people wandering around the beach that I just don’t necessarily trust. Let’s just let our kids loose and hope they come back or don’t injure themselves because we won’t notice either way! It’s too nice of a day out to care about the safety of the kids… I’m not saying people should be super overprotective of their children, because that can be aggravating as well, but they should at least know where they are and that they are not hurt.

Let’s not forget the people who constantly walk around with their phones attached to their ears, regardless of the fact that they are about to walk right smack into someone’s face because they are not paying attention. Or the people with the bluetooths or ear phones surgically attached to their heads, that are just oblivious to the world around them and don’t realize that they look like idiots talking to themselves all the time.

Or people constantly speaking a foreign language. I understand you are from another country, but I do not speak your language here, so you should try to speak mine. If I went to your country, I would have to speak your language for you to understand me, so please return the favor.

I make comments to the people I am with when I encounter such annoyances, and if the offenders happen to overhear and have a problem with it, then so be it. But aside from the creepy druggie guy I have not faced any such issues, and will probably continue to say things without thinking beforehand.  However, I should work on my filter a little bit, and I suppose I will try to avoid saying anything about people that I may be afraid of. Other than that, I don’t generally say a whole lot, and as annoyed by people in the world as I am, I should get to have my fun and complain sometimes.