Ginger beer

My brother has this thing where he always tries new kinds of root beer wherever he goes. I always try it with him, but a while ago I decided to try all the kinds of ginger beer I found.
So, while I was at Allen's today, I found this lovely ginger beer, and my initial face was this:

I then brought it home, where I was super excited to drink it.

A few seconds after the first gulp, an intense burning took place in my throat. I coughed a little and had to swallow a lot. It tasted good, but by golly, there was a lot of ginger in it.

After a moment or two, the initial strong burning dissipates and leaves a slight burning that lingers. Then you look like this:

... and take another sip.

I like this ginger beer, but I'm probably going to stick with Bundaberg next time.

El Fin Del Semestre

After struggling with on-and-off insomnia (I'm not kidding) the past few weeks, I can finally just sleep whenever I want.

Why?

Because fall semester is officially over!

But last night was stupid. I went to bed at a reasonable 12:15 in order to wake up at 6:15 for my Calc III final. No big deal, right? Except my insomnia once again kicked in and I didn't actually fall asleep until about 3:30-4:00 am.

  >:(

ANGRY FACE.

After cooking myself a large and yummy breakfast, I basically ice-skated my way to the Engineering building to take my Calc III test. My Professor actually showed up on time for the first time this whole semester, and he looked positively excited that he didn't have to teach us anymore.

After my Calc final, I was sick to my stomach. I kept thinking about my O Chem final, and about how I haven't soaked in nearly enough material this whole semester. I tried flipping through my notes, but I was so tense and tired that it didn't help. So I flopped on the couch for 10 minutes before I went to my chem final.

Organic Chemistry is a beast.  But I love it. 

At the 50 minute mark, I had done all I could on the test. I was surprised to see "Time Remaining: 1 hour 10 minutes" on the board. I sat around for another 20 minutes to see if I could do anything else, but the girl next to me kept sniffing up her snot every 2 seconds (not an exaggeration), so I left.

And I felt good.

Now I get to make cookies for Malea, who so lovingly helped me with math this semester.

Now....

CHRISTMAS BREAK!!! WHEEEE!!!

This is what happened to my phone

P&P (phones & pies)

ACCIO PHONE!
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No? 


So this took forever, but I'm finally posting the poll results from the last two polls.

There's not much to say about this, except for that I'm with the 5 who said no, it shouldn't be played before Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure Thanksgiving is still a major holiday, so it really should get it's own special time. You wouldn't skip your child's birthday because you like your other kid and his birthday better, would you?

Favorite Christmas song: O Holy Night

Least favorite song: That terrible, craptastic Christmas Shoes song. It makes me barf.

Ooh this one was just super exciting!

As you can see, the favorite was most obviously pumpkin pie. I'm so happy, because that's my favorite! Let's be friends and eat my mom's delicious pumpkin pie together.

Also, I really like fresh cherry pies. They're super delicious.

I'm not really going to discuss the others, but I really want to know what the "Another one not listed" category entailed. What pies were your favorites that I didn't list? I MUST KNOW!

Ponderings

What is it about my car that says, "hey, just cut me off and try to put an even bigger dent in the hood?"

Why is it that when you put a mom in a minivan, it suddenly becomes a moving death machine?

And why are the most dangerous moms the ones with a visor to match their tracksuit?

Why do you always wear a white shirt when you eat spaghetti?

Why does my phone CONSTANTLY butt dial people ?

Why is Kelsey Barker so fat?

Why do I always think that fat kids with pig noses have a German accent?

Why is it that when you go to Color Me Mine you picture a intricate, fancy piece of pottery that will eventually be worth millions and considered one of the greatest works of art of all time, but what you end up with is a teapot that looks like someone with Parkinson's painted it with a pile of elephant crap? 

Why do chick flicks suck?

Why can't we all have a stash of liquid nitrogen to play with at whim?

Why do I break everything?!

and finally...
Whooooo are you? Who, who? Who, who? Whooooooooooo are you? Who, who? Who, who?

 BONUS: What?

(Screen shot of my computer when I turned it on one day)

The Stick and Sting of Thanksgiving

Seven years ago to the Holiday was the most memorable Thanksgiving I've ever had.

It wasn't because we set our house on fire or because Alan Rickman came to our doorstep (oh how I wish). It was because I ended up in the Emergency Room instead of stuffing my face with food.

I was lounging around downstairs, probably watching t.v. or playing my GBA SP. Out of the goodness of my awkward 12-year-old heart, I decided to go upstairs and help my parents with Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, they had been slaving in the kitchen preparing the savory feast for a few hours, and I felt like the least I could do was give a small hand (literally) to help. A wave of about 50 million smells hit me at once, making my stomach growl like a bear. Yes, a bear.

"Mom, is there anything I could help you with?"

"Oh, uh, sure. How about you open up the cranberry sauce?"

I did love me some cranberry sauce, so I lovingly obliged. My dad left the kitchen to grab something from outside, and I turned to a stack of cans containing cranberry sauce and grabbed the can opener.

{My 19-year-old self is going to interject now. Most of you know that I am left-handed, and most of you know that I really can't use a can opener because they're engineered for right-handed people. I still gripe about this, because I want a left-handed can opener. Anyways, I'll continue...}

I sank the can opener into the aluminum lid and began to rotate the handle around ineptly. I got all the way around and foolishly lifted the lid with my hand. I noticed that the lid was still attached by a stupid piece of aluminum to the body of the can. I, for some reason, thought that the whole lid had to be off the can in order for the solid jelly sauce to slide out. So without thinking, I grabbed the can lid and started to twist it around. The lid was more stubborn than I thought and wouldn't budge past a certain point. "Oh, well I'll just try twisting harder,"I thought.

That was a mistake.

The second I tried twisting the lid off really hard, my hand slipped right over the edge of the sharp can lid. I felt a stinging sensation and looked at my hand. My left thumb had been split wide open, bleeding quickly all over the cranberry sauce.

"Uhh...." I muttered as I stared at my thumb and turned around, not wanting my mom to see. First of all, I thought she would be mad that I tainted the $1.00-something can of cranberry sauce. Secondly, my mom doesn't fare well with blood at all. AT ALL. 

I stood there for a few more seconds then turned around and stated, "Uh... mom, I cut my finger" and stuck my thumb out for her to see. She immediately screamed and turned around, yelling "go get your father!" My dad walked in at that moment and asked what was wrong. I stuck my thumb up at him and didn't say anything. His response was, "oh, that needs stitches." 

My dad wrapped my bleeding digit in gauze and I followed him to the van. Since the doctor's office was closed, we had to go to the hospital. On the car ride over, I watched the gauze turn redder and redder. As we walked through the front doors of the Emergency Room, I was amazed to see the triage room full of wounded guests. We checked in at the counter and they asked me what number my pain was (pain scale). I'm pretty sure I said a 2 or something, because I wasn't really in pain, I just needed my flesh sewn together again. We sat in the bustling triage room and waited for a doctor. My dad talked to a few of the people there, and we found a guy that had sliced his entire palm open on a can of yams. A nurse also told us that a woman broke her leg going down some stairs to get mandarin oranges for her cranberry sauce. I was definitely glad that my injury wasn't as bad as theirs.

After waiting for who knows how long, I was brought into a long hall full of dozens of beds separated by curtains. I sat on my designated bed as a doctor came by and gave my thumb four numbing shots. I've had several shots in my life, and none were as painful as the shots in my thumb. The shots were given twice on the outside base of my thumb, and twice on the inside base of my thumb. Ouch.

I sat there for another 45 minutes staring at my open wound, waiting for the doctor to come again. He finally came and pulled out a super thin (and super sharp) U-shaped needle. He plunged the needle into my thumb and made me realize that all the numbing solution had most definitely worn off.

"Ouch!"

"Can you feel that?"

"Uh, yes."

That's when the doctor gave me about 13 more shots in my thumb. I watched all them, fascinated and freaked out at the same time. The first few shots were awful, but after that, I couldn't feel the stick and sting of the needle anymore. The doctor sewed my finger shut one stitch at a time. After he was finished, he wrapped up my finger in a load of gauze and wished me a happy Thanksgiving.

The car ride home was one where I nearly exploded for hunger. I got home to my siblings (who looked like devil creatures for lack of food) and mom waiting at the dinner table for us to eat. I had delayed dinner by about 4 hours, and we were all ready to overindulge ourselves in turkey, stuffing, potatoes and pie.

And that, folks, is the most memorable Thanksgiving I've had... so far.

Happy Thanksgiving!