On the clock.

12 Feb

Being timed causes me great anxiety. Timed tests, questions, tasks—I crumble. My most recent, pressing time sensitive issue? Word Mole. My new phone came equipped with a word game called “Word Mole” that I have become addicted to faster than a foster child to heroin. The object is to put together as many words in this giant block of letters as possible and hit an increasing number of points per level within the time allowed. Now, if you know nothing about me, you should familiarize yourself with at the very least, these three things: 1) Under no circumstance should you ever take navigational directions from me even if I swear to you up and down that I’m right, 2) I loathe mustard, and 3) Word games get me going like little boys do Michael Jackson.

Instantly I was hooked. I spend enormous blocks of time hunched over the tiny screen of my phone, thumbs in the attacking position, furiously tapping the keys to spell words and beat the clock. I have even developed tennis elbow, seeing as my arms are bent at a 120 degree angle for extended periods of time as I go full speed ahead to beat the little rodents stealing my points. The game is divided up into “seasons” (or levels). Spring is the first season, and there are four rounds. Then summer, four rounds. And then autumn and winter–you get the idea. My first twenty games of Word Mole ended in demise. I would finally get to the frosty winter round and the clock would destroy all my progress and I would lose.

Then, today in the car, I FINALLY dominated the winter season. I squirmed in my seat in excited anticipation for the “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU WIN!!!” screen. To my horror, the screen returned to the SPRING season! I was perplexed—there is no end! I CAN’T WIN!!!!! I am infuriated. Who came up with this game? Lord help me. I may need an intervention.

The stereo in my car is malfunctioning in such a way that my tuner is broken, and stuck on one single station. Unfortunately this station plays “Flash Dance” literally every ten minutes. I’m pissed. Who is running 98.1, and who accepted their resume? Apparently they are the same people who, as kids, only ate cheese and chicken nuggets, and wore the same shirt every day. I’m really not picky, but guys, can we add some variety? Britney Spears is really hot right now. Just an idea.

This morning, this ad popped up on the margin of my Facebook page:

The DISCO pant? Where do I begin. The color? The high waist? It’s just too much. Who in their right mind would ever design such an atrocity? And who is the genius working for Facebook that decided that it would be a great marketing strategy to have that ad placed on their page? Good lord, Helen Keller wouldn’t even pick out an outfit like that. Is this person going to be simultaneously doing aerobics, fly fishing waist deep in a river, and dressing up for 80s day during Homecoming week? I don’t think so. It is safe to say that if I so much as hear someone consider donning the Barney spandex, I will gut them like a fish and not apologize to their mother.

Tomorrow morning I will be heading back to the great state of Kansas. My five day Council Bluffs visit was a good one, but now it’s back to work. I cannot wait for Christmas. I’ll get a wish list started for you all to choose from, don’t worry. That’s an idea, actually. I wonder if I made a Christmas wish list on here, and persuaded my readers to actually buy me gifts and send them to me, they would. I should try. Let me know how realistic that hope is, team. Let me down easy though–I’m sensitive.

“Fjorn? FJORN? REALLY? Who puts a J after an F? To all you Norwegians, fjuck you.”


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