I cannot wait for November 5th, because it means November 4th is over, as is the political drama that’s become increasingly more hostile the closer we get to Election Day. Families are disowning each other over diverging political views, and friends are turning into each other’s mortal enemies because they are voting differently—it’s getting so bad that you can’t answer someone who asks, “who are you voting for?” People who ask things like that aren’t trying to satisfy their curiosity; what they really want to do is find someone to pick a fight with—because you know if you answer something contrary to what they think is correct, you will get your ass beat–verbally, physically, or both. And don’t try to answer the way the asker wants you to, or say you are undecided, because you might trigger a long, political discussion. Also, if you lied to avoid a confrontation, this long, political discussion will most likely expose the truth…and lead to an ass beating.

Listen up, you hardcore Republicans and Democrats who choose your political parties over your personal relationships: you already have a vote and can use it however you wish, so stop trying to get another one! And if your preferences don’t come out on top, well, tough sh*t–that’s how democracy works, so welcome to America, b*tch.

Not that I would ever say any of that to your faces because I really don’t want to be trampled to death by you crazies while you’re wielding your Obama and McCain signs. Hell no. However, what I would say is this:

Which will most likely lead to this:

You see an ass beating; I see a bipartisan ass beating. Mission accomplished!

I’ve somehow managed to maintain a level of ig’nance when it comes to the recent global economic crisis. Note that “ig’nance” should not be confused with “ignorance,” because they are two different things:

Ignorance: showing or arising from a lack of education or knowledge. 

Ig’nance: purposely choosing not to be educated or knowledgeable—even though such information can be easily acquired and understood—for the sole purpose of keeping life as uncomplicated as possible.

You’ve got to admit, maintaining my ig’nance is quite the astounding feat considering all the media coverage that’s been going on…not to mention the fact that 95% of my school’s student body has included this topic during their freakouts over whether they’ll be able to find a job after they pass the bar. The other 4% already have jobs–and shanks, which they will use if you even think about messing with their employment. And I am in the remaining 1%, a group made up of students who have no chance of passing the bar, who are in America illegally and will be deported after they graduate unless they manage to trap someone into marriage, or who plan to surprise their parents by living with them forever.

Sadly, my impressive streak of going so many days without keeping up on important issues abruptly came to an end yesterday…as well as my dream of being listed in the “Guinness Book of World Records” for being the least deserving person to ever be in the “Guinness Book of World Records” (it still hurts to talk about it). And it all happened because of this:

Notice anything depressing about this Mini? Then how about this:

No, this is not one of Criss Angel’s fake magic acts. What you see is 100% real: the price of the “Something sweet” Mini increased from 5 Credits to 15! Highway robbery!

The 10 Credit increase is a severe kick to the nutsack that doubles as my wallet because that Mini was the one I used most often. Yes, it was one of the cheaper ones, but it looked a lot better than some of the expensive Minis. It was also on like the first page of the Mini list so I didn’t have to click on the other pages…and it didn’t hurt that it was often featured on that little quick-pick thing next to the comment box.

Anyway, now that my default Mini is more expensive, it is starting to put a strain on my Xanga lifesavings account. Credits are easy to get if you’ve got money to buy them–but I don’t, so I instead have to earn them by completing surveys. Actually, I spend more time attempting to take surveys than I do completing them because being a 26-year-old female with no income and who does not speak Swahili puts me out of the qualifying demographic. In other words, my opportunities to earn Credits are few and far between because the surveyors are aiming for a target audience that does not include me.

Time to come up with a plan that will allow me to continue my lavish, Xanga lifestyle!

Odds of earning Credits through surveys

+ regular use of the “Something sweet” Mini

= hire a bunch of illegal male immigrants to work in my chain of “massage” parlors located within every “Curves” facility!

I had just returned from grocery shopping, and was taking an elevator back to the apartment.

I had just walked into an atmosphere of ass!

It didn’t smell like a regular fart though. It was instead one of those warning farts you get right before you have explosive diarrhea–i.e., stank^extreme.

A few floors into being suffocated by this noxious ass gas, someone else got onto the elevator.

And then…

Under normal circumstances, I would have just let this woman think I was the culprit and be done with it–but it smelled like death in there, people, and I didn’t want to be known as the person who turned the elevator into a hot box of butt mist. But I, with my subpar thinking-on-the-fly skills, couldn’t think of anything except: I should blog this.

What should I have done???

Halloween started as a Celtic festival to celebrate the dead spirits that returned to Earth every October 31. The Celts believed these spirits made it easier for priests to make predictions about the future, and every year they would dress up in animal heads and skins and tell each other’s fortunes, and then do some stuff with bonfires.

This Celtic tradition changed when the Romans took over, and again when Christianity spread through the Celtic territories. But it still remained as a day to honor the dead, and was celebrated with bonfires, parades, and dressing up—but as angels, saints, and devils and not in dead animal.

Hmm…so how did we go from celebrating spirits to giving out free candy?

I’ve never been much into Halloween. I just don’t see the rationale behind telling kids to avoid taking candy from strangers, but then make an exception on October 31st. And it isn’t really much of an exception when you think about it: parents still have to check all the candy for glass or needles or whatever it is weirdoes put in there—like they would if their kid received candy from a random person on any of the other 364 days. I don’t get it! How does that make any sense?

Needless to say, Halloween and I aren’t very cool with each other. I mean, we’re mature enough to be fake nice to each other when we meet every year, but we both know it’s just a cover-up for our true feelings.

Halloween sees his day as a positive social tradition where cute children dress in costumes and visit nearby families, and everyone gets to enjoy enough of the spirit of giving to last them until December. I see it as a day where strange kids you have never met or even seen before show up at your door and demand candy.
 
This tradition is very, very annoying. Trick-or-treaters are a threat to the candy stash I have painstakingly amassed, and I would very much like to just close the door on them, but I can’t. Failure to appease trick-or-treaters on Halloween is an egregious offense, and those kids will make you pay!
 
And you know they will. What’s the first thing they do the minute you open the door? They greet you with a threat! Allow me to dissect the two most common ones:

1. “Trick or treat!”

    Translation: give me candy, or else I’ll toilet paper your house!

2. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear!”

    Translation: if you don’t sniff my stank feet and then give me delicious candy, I’m going to make you have to register as a sex offender!

And don’t be fooled by the kids’ costumes. Even though they are dressed like a baby Batman or some little honeybee, that does not mean you can get away with giving them air or, worse, dry-ass granola. (Sidebar: Do not go there. I’m telling you: avoid giving apples, raisins, or any other healthy snacks. We may be fighting a war against childhood obesity, but there is a cease-fire agreement every October 31st.) That costume is the kid’s version of a ski mask—and he is wearing it because he knows he can get revenge, while all you can do is file a police report that Pikachu egged your house and toilet papered your trees.