My Not-So-Clever Blog Title.

This blog is a little rant-y, so if you're not in the mood to hear me bitch and moan, I suggest you move on the greener pastures (in the nicest way possible).

So, I work in the service industry in a yogurt shop for the summer. Don't get me wrong, as much as I want to think I dislike my job, I actually love it. Not the work necessarily, but I've gotten to work with some incredible people. That's not to say I want to be doing shift work for the rest of my life, but all my co-workers get cooler by the day.

That being said, sometimes my job makes me want to take up suicide bombing. Our location is in a very snooty neighborhood with all these stay at home, over-privileged women who have nothing better to do but take their kids to get yogurt and then treat the debate between raspberries and strawberries as a topping as a life and death decision. Example: A little girl and her mom walk in to the store. Little girl is chewing on a Tiffany & Co. bracelet. CHEWING on the classic "Return to Tiffany" heart tag toggle bracelet in sterling silver. I'm not obsessed with Tiffany's or anything...Ok I'll admit I looked up the name of the bracelet for added effect. Anyway, she's chowin' down on this bracelet like it's a piece of Juicy Fruit. I was just the tiniest bit stunned by that.

There are other types of customers that are far more annoying than the kind that let their babies eat $200 bracelets. The foreign customer, for instance. I have nothing against foreign people. America is a huge melting pot. Immigration makes culture, but if you are foreign and you don't speak any English, please do not get sassy with me when I don't know how to say "watermelon" in Spanish. Maybe that's a skill I should develop. I have no clue.

Customer type number 3. Mr. Asks-a-Question-but-Doesn't-Listen-to-the-Answer.

This guy is SERIOUS. He's a business man usually. He uses phrases like "let's get down to brass tacks" in yogurt shops. This dude means business. He is SO incredibly important that he doesn't even have time for the answers to his own questions. He's like the Dos Equis man, but not even remotely as interesting. A typical conversation with him would go something like:

Him: "Which one is your best yogurt?"

You: "Well a lot of people like th..."

Flaming Douche Lord:"You know what? Can I try the strawberry?"

You: "Of course. Is there anything else I can..."

Senor Importante: "Where are your sizes? Are these them?"

You: "Yes, sir. There's small, mediuhhh..."

Dos Equis: "Forget it. Just give me this size (points in the direction of 3 different sized cups) with some chocolate chips"

You: "Sorry, sir, what size?"

Busybee: "What's my total?"

He's usually really fun.

Along the same lines as him is the customer that, despite the line out the door, thinks they're the only one there. My favorite thing in the entire world is when I'm talking to a group of about five or so people trying to get everyone taken care of and someone starts yelling their order at me.

"Can I get a medium raspberry with kiwi on top?!?"

"WHEN I'M DONE WITH ALL 25 OTHER PEOPLE IN FRONT OF YOU, YES."

Makes me absolutely crazy.

That's all I'm going to say about the service industry. It makes me hate people.

Oh, and , in reference to the title of this post, my blog title is incredibly lacking in the creative department. It's really bad. I think, in an effort to seem ironic, I chose to title this blog the least ironic thing ever. Who do I think I am? I don't even know sometimes. If anyone has suggestions, let me know!

Thanks for reading!

-Sydney

PS- I'm going to start doing "Obsessions of the Day". Today's obsession? Diet Ginger Ale.

Man, You're Weird.

I've realized lately that you really can't judge anyone, ever. Why? Because everyone you meet has some crazy character. Even the most seemingly shallow or composed people are weird as hell. Me? I'm an outright freak. I have enough character for a small family and their pets, but I would have never guessed that the "perfect" or "popular" girls that I used to judge are as off their rockers as I am. Everyone has things that only they do, typically referred to as "[insert your name here]-isms". Example: Sydney-isms/Syd-isms. These are some of the most fascinating things to me. I love hearing about different people's idiosyncratic tendencies, because no matter how well you know someone, they can always bust out with the weirdest shit you've ever heard of and say "What? I do it all the time..."

For example, my best friend rubs her nose on things. Like, it's her comfort thing. The first time she rubbed her nose on my shoulder, I about shat because I thought she was some kind of animal prepping me for a kill. She then told me that if she's comfortable enough with someone, she'll rub her nose on them. The weirdest part? I do it now. I'm a total nuzzler. Also, she's still got her baby blanket. I'm sure at one point it was a very full, very pretty blanket, but at this point it just looks like a fuzzy g-string. But that's what makes her, her. <<<(I have no idea how to punctuate that sentence) After re-reading this, I have made my best friend sound like a complete freak/shut-in. The freak part is true, shut-in isn't.

My "isms" are a little different, and, since I'm conceited, I may as well go ahead and list a few out because I know all 6 of my readers are interested.

Like a true theatre kid, when I get in the car, I pretend I'm in a musical. This isn't like once in a while. It's literally every single time. Default songs? "Gimme Gimme", "How the Other Half Lives", and "I Turned the Corner" from Thoroughly Modern Millie, "Amazing Mayzie" from Seussical, "The I Love You Song" from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.... I could go on for days. But I get really into it. Like, I do the tap dancing parts with my hands on the steering wheel. It's a little bit embarrassing. My favorite part, though, is that the windows in my car aren't tinted, so everyone can watch a live show from their car. As creeped out as I should be by people looking in my car, watching me gettin' it, I'm too busy being on Broadway to care. I'm a star, thank you very much.

Another thing... before I hang out with someone, no matter who it is, I plan out whatever we're going to talk about. Even with some of my best friends, I get incredibly anxious and wonder what in the world we're going to say to each other. We never end up talking about the things I think we're going to, but part of me gets nervous that there's going to be nothing to say to each other. On the first couple dates with my boyfriend, I put conversation topics in my phone just in case, even though, with him (and the rest of the people I do this with) conversation comes incredibly easily. It so weird to me.

I love people watching. That's a normal one, I think, but I make up some highly unrealistic stories about the unfortunate souls I watch. Case and point: I saw a guy at the airport (my favorite people watching place) and I determined that his wife just left him because he neglected to tell her that he was born a woman, and he was moving to another state because of it. I wish I was normal.

This is another one I picked up from my best friend. If I'm laying next to someone, my feet have to touch theirs. I hate feet more than anything. I wont touch anyone's feet with my hands, nor will I let people touch my feet, which is why this one is a little odd. It's a comfort thing for me now. Try it sometime.

This may be my most boring blog post yet, but I'm going to shoot a little higher next time. Everyone have a great day!!

-Sydney

It's Reality Show Clip Time!!

I've been thinking....what has happened to reality TV?

We used to have precious little gems like "Survivor", "American Idol", and (how could anyone forget?) "Bug Juice". These shows chronicled "real life" situations and showed America what it was like to go into the jungle and live solely on rice and pig fat, be totally criticized on your singing voice by cracked out has-beens (cough Paula Abdul cough), and how to find true love at a weird summer day camp. And for the record, children of the '90's, I know for a fact that all of you tried at one point or another to figure out what camp those kids went to just for the sake of being on "Bug Juice" season 2. Regardless of how extensive your obsession was with summer camp, because I can guarantee it was nowhere near mine, you must admit that these shows are total classics, right? But then we started eating dog testicles and free falling thousands of feet to our death for $50, and I was outof the reality game. Actually it really started getting creepy for me during "Big Brother". To this day, I still don't understand what the point of having some guy omnisciently watch you run around naked and make out with your strange roommates was, but some people loved it.

Even shows I used to love have just become hot damn tranny messes. Example: America's Got Talent. America USED to have talent. America now just has a ton of freakshows looking to win big money. Damn you, Susan Boyle. Now all of us here in McDonald's nation look like tards (but at least we're not 55 years old who have never been kissed! Zing! Cheap shot!). All joking aside, her rendition of Les Miserable's "I Dreamed a Dream" was stunning. I'm obviously just jealous of her talent.

But back to the task at hand. I'm really kind of over the whole idea of the Brits infiltrating our systems and criticizing our people. Tony Blair and George Bush were besties, and what did that get us? Simon Cowell striking the fear of God into every young adult singer that walked through those American Idol audition doors. You will never see a reality show on BBC with an American judge. Why? Because we are thought to have no concept of talent or sense of style. Britain's given the world Elton John and one of my personal favorite singers, Adele. We have Ke$ha (who I'm secretly obsessed with) and William Hung. Who's the best dressed woman in Hollywood? Victoria Beckham. Where is she from? England. Nice job, UK. Well played, Posh Spice. If you can find a British show with one of us KFC eating losers on it, especially in a position of authority, I'll give you props.

But, anyway the panel of judges on "America's Got Talent" is just a little ridiculous. Not only is Piers a flaming douche-lord and I have no idea what his claim to fame is or what he does with his life, we have Ozzy's wife, and....Howie Mandell? The guy who hosted "Deal or No Deal"? Well, alright guys. Whatever you say.

There are plenty of other reality shows that go from "guilty pleasure" to "scraping the bottom of the reality show barrel. A few at the very bottom of this barrel are:

Mr. Personality

Phantom of the Opera called, he wants his...well you

know the punch line to this one. One woman has to fall in love based on personality alone while all the men wear huge metal masks. I, for one, think they're sexy. Hosted by Monica Lewinski. Wait, what?! As in cigar toting Monica? I want no relation with that woman or this show.

Amish In the City

Ok. This concept of testing the Amish with the intrigue of light bulbs and battery powered walkie talkies is the tiniest bit offensive. I'm just sayin'. The Amish are a harmless group of people! Leave them alone (unless you get stuck behind one of their horse and buggies in your car).

And last but not least....

The Littlest Groom

Because shorties need love too.

Alright, everyone! That's all I have for today! Until next time,

Sydney

Fatal Attraction

So, the allure of this blogging thing is almost overwhelming. I've been looking forward to finishing studying for my Political Science test so that I can write a little bit before bed. Embarrassing? Maybe, but so worth it.

I just have a few things to mention. A couple random occurrences that made my day a little better.

1. I love mall cops. Only a certain kind of mall cop, though. The kind that ride around in the white and blue SUV's and block you every time you try and pull out of a parking spot? Not quite. The ones that ride around on segues? Absolutely. Today, as I was leaving a shopping center I catch a glimpse out of my peripheral vision of a mall cop in his bright yellow shirt (stylin' and profilin') completely HAULING ASS across the parking lot. Where could he possibly be going that would require him to speed up to 80 mph on his segue? Did someone try on a blouse that they need in a different size or color immediately? Calm down, Rambo. Your scooter might suffer. One thing I don't quite understand is how I have never seen this little nugget before. I've been frequenting this shopping center for the last 10 years of my life, and I have never been privileged enough to capture this sight with my own eyes. I'll count my blessings, I suppose.

2. It's recently been brought to my attention how annoying people are. Now, so I don't offend all 2 of my blog readers, I'll explain. Not all of you are annoying. Just those of you who come in after a movie has started and feel the need to scream at the person you're with. I'm a person who sincerely enjoys watching the previews to movies, so this severely bothers me. If I'm sitting in a movie and the most intriguing preview in the world comes on about some incredibly thought provoking new film, please do not sit there shining your damn cell phone on the entire audience and scream "WHERE DO YOU WANNA SIT?!?". Dearest, just pick a chair. Preferably empty, but beggars can't be choosers. And, for the love of God, if there are 5 people in the movie theatre, do not sit within a three chair radius of me. Social skills, children. Develop them. And, if you take my foot rest, so help me, I'm not afraid to lunge across the back of your chair and give you a swift slap to the jaw. Just sayin' kids. Use your noggins.

3. This is a little less rant-y and a little more level-headed. I've rediscovered a website recently (originally introduced to me by my friend Alex). It's called themansguidetolove.com. Seriously, look it up. Relationships are so interesting these days, especially for women. With books like "He's Just Not That Into You" (my Bible, and part of the reason that I'm half-crazy) and "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man" so much of the control in a relationship is put in a man's hands (which is totally fine in my book, because apparently I've written one, too.). But, as a woman, we're made to think that men are solid foundations and we need to change and stop being who we are just for the sake of finding "the one". What I've found from this website is that men care and are just as emotionally connected as we are, they just don't want to mention it. I call bullshit, society. So, girls, instead of sitting next to your phone wondering if Mr. Wonderful is going to call, go check this website out. It's actually pretty encouraging. It's fun to watch men talk so candidly about something as complex as love. Your reactions will probably range from "awwww" to "ugh!", but it's worth it.

Anyway, that's all I have for tonight! Until the morning,

Sydney

OMG?

There are a couple of things I don't understand in this world. Dog shows, men flaunting their back hair, my lack of height...this list goes on. Recently, though, I've become increasingly aware of the incredibly stupid music that floods our airwaves today. I know what you're thinking: "Oh, crap. Another self-righteous, scenester, music whore who likes nothing more than to begin hating a band who 'sells out and becomes mainstream'". No, dear readers. Not at all! I actually love to see the bands that I love and have rooted for become successful, but I can't stand some of the stupid lyrics that have become more and more prevalent in today's pop, rap, and R&B.

Case and point: OMG by Usher and Will.i.am

OMG? More like WTF?

What happened to Usher? I have loved and cherished literally everything that has come out of that dark chocolate mouth of his since "You Remind Me". Where did "Throwback" Usher go? Or "U Got it Bad" Usher? Even "Confessions Part II" Usher (even though that song was a little trashy in a sexy, bad boy sort of way).

Let me just take you through a few of these bogus lyrics:

"Baby let me love you down, there’s so many ways to love ya. Baby I can break you down, there’s so many ways to love ya."

Ok. Just a question. What exactly is being "loved down"? I understand some people will take lovin' any way that they can possibly get it , but being "loved down" just sounds a little unnecessary and sort of painful. If Usher wanted to love me, I'd be totally down, so maybe thats what he means? On the other hand, I don't really care who you are, being broken down as a result of said "lovin'" doesn't sound all that fun. And if one is loved down, why aren't they loved up? Not worth it? I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

"You make me want to say Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Ohh my gosh"

Now, say you were at a bar or a club and a guy was super cute and funny and nice and you were thinking "Hey, maybe this could go somewhere..." Well all that wishful thinking can easily be cancelled out by this damn mess. Nothing's sexier than a stutter, right? Wrong.

"Honey got a booty like pow, pow, pow. Honey got some boobies like wow, oh wow"

I get the booty part. Black men are all about the donk, but as far as the boobies go: I'm sorry, what? If my boyfriend were to tell me "Baby, your boobies are like wow, oh wow", do you think I would swoon and we'd live happily ever after? Nope, probs not. Quite the contrary. I would most likely vomit. Now all I can think of is my beloved Ursher (not a spelling mistake. Sound it out) staring, dumfounded, crosse eyed at some club rat's breasticles and it makes me sick.

"This one got me whipped, just off one look, yep I fell in love"

Jumping the gun a little bit aren't you, Usher? One look and your in love with the girl (and her "wow oh wow" boobies)? Apparently. Best of luck to that strongly founded relationship.

Well, that's enough for now, kids. Until next time!

Sydney

The First Cut Is The Deepest

I've been meaning to start a blog now for quite some time. I'm not entirely sure why anyone would take the time out of their day to read something about what I'm doing, but if you're here, thank you. I'm flattered.

This blog is made to chronicle the rest of my time home during the summer in Houston, Texas. This may be incredibly boring, or as entertaining as the Roller Derby (which, unfortunately, I find amazingly entertaining) but it's up to you. I should go ahead and take this time to introduce myself.

I'm Sydney, and I go to Texas Tech University in Lubbock. I have an incredible family and set of friends whom I'm very grateful for.

I love playing guitar and singing. My absolute dream (unrealistic as it may be) is to be on Broadway and do what I love for the rest of my life (duh).

I'm not all that complicated, so I suppose that's it for now.

"Begin each day as if it were on purpose" -Hitch (only because I'm watching it right now)

-Sydney