I'm Funny!!!

Love and inappopriate,
Courtney

Laundry Day

When I was folding my laundry today, I had a really good opening to this blog entry.  I forgot it and now I just sound like an idiot.  You still love me.

I hate doing laundry.  My dad made me start doing my own laundry during my sophomore year of high school when I got pissed that he shrunk this one type of shirt I had twice in a row.  And now I have to do it myself.  Worst decision ever.

I feel like a ridiculous person when I do laundry.  This is because I am a ridiculous person in general, first of all, and also because I have way too many clothes.  And I know that girls have lots of clothes, but I'm pretty sure I take it to a new level.  Perhaps I should just demonstrate.

Uhm, yeah.  This is my laundry basket.

YOU SEE, during my freshman and sophomore years I had one of those normal laundry baskets that you get in the "College 07" section at Target (TARGET!!!) and it was not working out.  Because I would always fill up my laundry bin before I was out of clothes and then it would overflow and I wouldn't want to do my laundry because I hate doing my laundry and what point was there anyway when I still had clothes??  So there would be laundry everywhere and my roommate would get mad and kick me out and I would yell at my laundry basket in the hallway and then people would look at me strangely and I would cry a little bit inside.

Not really.  But it was annoying and my room would get messy.

So I dreamed.  I dreamed of a world where there was a laundry basket customized just for my laundry needs.  And then I went to South Carolina.  And I fell in love.  With this laundry basket.

IT'S TWO LAUNDRY BASKETS.  PUT TOGETHER.  INTO ONE LAUNDRY BASKET.  SO IT HOLDS TWO TIMES THE CLOTHES.  CAN YOU HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW???

It has a divider.  On each side.  Four.  Sections.  Do you know what that means??  That means that I don't need to sort my laundry when I go to do it.  Do you know how awesome that is???  No.  You don't.  Because you do not have my laundry basket.

Oh yeah.  And it has wheels.  Are you dying yet?  These are crucial because, seeing as I don't have to do laundry more than once a month now, when I do it, it looks a little bit like the following:

Oops.  I'm a little ridiculous.  But you knew that already.

Oh yeah, and here's the rest of it.  I'm just trying to be completely honest here.

But that's not all.  Because the real problem with this situation is that...

My drawers are not empty.  In fact, they are quite full.  This is not including the laundry that I did today.

Ditto with my closet.  Listen, I don't like to get to rid of things.  I'm a lover, not a hater.

And what, might you ask, is at the top of my Christmas list this year?  What could I possibly need more than what is in my closet right now?

Answer: socks.  Reason?  Because the only reason why I can't go more than a month without doing laundry is because I run out of socks.

Oh dear.

Don't judge me,
Courtney

iChat on a Friday Night

Last night Jay and I iChatted.  He was being mature and responsible and watching Aiden.  I was being mature and responsible and waiting to host a little gathering of friends.  This entry is to show you just how mature and responsible we both are.

TWO HEADED MONSTER ARGHHH!!!

Jay's shirt says "Boob."  I would like to alert you to that.

Someone keep me off of iChat when there's alcohol involved,
Courtney

Twilight Party, Part Two

This is a continuation of yesterday's Twilight party summary, in which I further exhibited my level of inappropriateness.  I expect that you all are used to this by now, but I must warn you... the following images may leave you disturbed.

Let's just get to it, then.

Everyone really liked their Twilight plates, so they couldn't just give them up.  Therefore, the people pictured above decided to wash them.

I will not voice my thoughts on this decision.  I will just let you form your opinions yourselves.

Oh, what?  You said you think that they're a little over-obsessed?  Oh good, we agree then.

I'm just kidding.  I love you all.

But you're just as crazy as me.

Some of our biggest Jacob friends really wanted to show their affection for him.

Joanna, on the other hand, was stuck with an Edward plate, and she was not too happy about her fate.

Erin and Colleen had no sympathy for her.  They're really the "rip the Band-aid off" kind of people.

Next, there was a Twilight board game.  We were all too tired and have too short of attention spans to actually play the game in its entirety, but we did have fun looking at the cards.

This was, by far, the grossest one.  Thank you to the wardrobe designer who decided to make Rob Pattinson look like a yucky fish.  I don't know why that's what I think about when I see this pictures, but I just feel like it's what he looks like.  A pale, limp, yucky fish.

If Rob Pattinson ever read this, he might be offended.  Sorry Rob!  I blame your makeup designer.  I met you once in person and you weren't that pale, so I believe that you can look better than this picture.

-----

Remember when I talked about disturbing images?

These are them.

You have been warned.

Uhm... there was a life-sized Jacob cardboard cutout.  This meant trouble.

I got a little creepy.

And then I got a little inappropriate...

...really inappropriate.

I really should not be allowed in public.  I'm glad these pictures aren't brighter than they already are.

-----

Thanks, my lovely Somers ladies, for an endlessly entertaining night.  And I'm sorry for posting these pictures a month late.  You're probably used to my procrastination already, though.

Love and life-sized cardboard cutout mania,

Courtney

Uses for Plastic Wrap

In part two of my I-have-too-much-free-time series, I will reveal another piece of how crazy I am.  But in my defense, this crazy idea was fueled by Amy, as most crazy things that I do are.

After a jam-packed day of going to the caf, watching five episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, enjoying my financial accounting homework, and eating some delicious rice and beans leftovers, I decided to watch the VMA's while painting my nails.  Both tasks were accomplished successfully.  However, I wanted to go to bed in the hopes of being productive the next day, and I didn't want to mess up my new nails!  Thus... a dilemma emerged.

They were just so perfect and nice looking!  Beauty?... sleep?... beauty?... sleep?... I didn't know what to do.

Then a little voice came into my head from the T.  The voice belonged to Amy.  And I remembered some wise (okay, crazy) advice.

"Next time, why don't you just use..."

"...PLASTIC WRAP??"

So I plastic wrapped my fingers.  My roommates now think I'm a nutso freak.  They're right.

This task proved to be more difficult than I originally thought. 

Pretty soon all of my fingers were just sticking together.

But eventually, I got all of those alien-looking fingers good and preserved for bedtime.

Well, except for my right pinky finger.  Reasons why:
1) I got bored.
2) I got frustrated.
3) I have a short attention span.
4) I needed one finger that I could text with.
5) I'm in a fight with my pinky nail because it used to be long and then it broke and I haven't gotten over it.

After discovering how difficult it was to text, type, read, take my medicine, and set my alarm, I finally went to sleep with high hopes.  I awoke this morning slightly confused and ready to see how my experiment had gone.  The verdict...

Beauteous!

But so not worth it.

-----

First LC theatre class tonight!

Love and I am only painting my nails during the day from now on,

Courtney

Bronx Courtney is Back

My eight million bags are packed, I have way too much stuff, and the only thing left to do is to get everything in the cars (yes, multiple) and get to the Bronx in one piece.  And unpack it all.  Sigh.

Because my mother is watching Bachelor Pad, I have like five seconds to write up a little ditty for you all before I have to go drown in material objects again.  But I thought that this video was appropriate for my transition from Somers to Bronx again tomorrow.  It was brought to my attention last week by Joanna, and I think it's rather appropriate for me in many ways.  (Hint: Watch until the end!!!)


The Top 60 Ghetto Black Names


Peace out, gangsta's,
Courtney

This is Embarassing

When I was in high school, we liked to make funny videos when we hung out.  Because we didn't drink or party or act normal, so we had to find other things to entertain ourselves.  And since we were Drama Club kids (so stereotypical high school, man) we liked to act out.  Get it?  Act out?

Stop me now, please.

This is one of those videos.  I believe that it demonstrates my ridiculousness, inappropriateness (please don't watch the part where I lick the spoon...), love for cooking...?, and general belief that I am funny when I, in fact, am not.

Enjoy.

The Best of Cooking with Courtney



Love and facepalm,
Courtney

Fo'Schiessl Fest 2010

Hello and welcome to Fo'Schiessl Fest 2010. The event has officially started.

I will be taking you along to the first ever F'SF on this very blog that you have come to know and love.
My name is Courtney, and I will be acting in the role of "comic relief" for this trip.

The skeptical looking woman is my mother, who is hidden behind all of the stuff that wouldn't fit in the trunk.

The shades in the rearview mirror belong to my teenage brother Jonathan, who will look at me like the crazy person I am for the entire week, while secretly thinking I'm hilarious.

My father, not pictured, has allowed Teenage Brother to drive part of the way, which will likely result in muttering and arguing, which will definitely result in sarcastic comments from yours truly.

It is hour one of the double digit hour trip to North Carolina, and we have already needed to resecure a piece of the car.  Things can only go up from here.

Love and NOT the movie Road Trip,
Courtney

In Addition...

I just tried to go to my Twitter and typed in "Target.com."  I have a serious problem.

Send help,
Courtney

The Shoe Game and Other Target Matters

Today Amy and I went to Zumba.  Then we went to Panera.  Then we went to Target.  Raise your hands if you're surprised.

Yeah.  I didn't think so.

Just to spice things up a little bit, and to make us feel like we're really cool (we're not) we played a little game that I like to call "The Shoe Game."

I shall explain.

The Shoe Game
Objective: Name the first thing that comes to mind when you see these shoes.
Unspoken objective: Be funny so I can blog about it and people will think I'm really cool.

BEGIN!

A: "Dad."
C: "Man.  That is a man shoe.  That is a shoe that a man should be wearing."

A: "Zebra."
C: *Look of boredom*
A: "You SAID to say the first thing that came to your mind!"
C: *Walks away*

A: "Jazz."
C: "That was boring.  This was a dumb game."
A: "That's too bad, seeing as you thought of it."
C: "Thanks for rubbing it in."

C: "Omgomgomg look at these.  They are terrible."
A: "Ironic hipster."
C: "OH MAN!  That's a good one.  Hold up these shoes so I can take a picture."
A: "But I'm in gym clothes!"
C: "I don't take no for an answer."

(These are so hipster, I'll bet my roommate Andrea would love them.  She's a hipster.  It's also her birthday.  Happy birthday!  I got you these shoes.  And by I got you these shoes, I mean, I took this picture for you.  Like it???)

A: "I just saw these and I was going to say ugly.  So, uhhh...."
C: "Ugly.  Ugly is perfect.  These are so ugly."

A: "Gladiator."
C: "BIGFOOT!  These are humongous."
A: "Courtney, those are like, my size."
C: "NO THEY'RE NOT!  These are so effing big.  They're like, size fifteen."
A: "Are they a size ten?  I'm a size ten."
C: "Uhm... They're size eleven.  Size eleven going on fifteen."


END SHOE GAME!

-----

In other Target matters...

I've spent, like 200 dollars at Target in the last month.  And no, I'm not exaggerating.  In fact, according to Mint.com, I have spent more than 200 dollars at Target, but I refuse to accept that, so I will round down.

When I think of Target, I get into a "I must have it and I must have it RIGHT NOW" kind of mood.  Where, might you ask, do I get this from?

Here.  I will show you.

This girl.  This is where I get it from. 

For the record, it was NOT my idea to go to Target today.  It was hers.  And I agreed because I'm a pushover and I fold under peer pressure and we were at the mall anyways, so why not??

PS: Amy almost walked out of the store with those bangles on.  And then she told me that one time, she walked out of a JCPenney with a shirt on her arm and didn't realize, and mall security totally thought she was a raging kleptomaniac and detained her.  She got out of being arrested... but only by being fourteen and crying and having a lawyer father.  Corporate establishments don't like teenagers with lawyer fathers.

PPS: I hear that Amy is a kleptomaniac when in certain states of inebriation.  This statement has not been proven by my eyes.

PPPS: That dress that she is holding is a maternity dress because we tend to wander in there.  There is NO sign that warns you that you're entering maternity zone, so it's not our fault.  And yes, she bought it.  But it was an XS, which is really just a win.

-----
And yes, I bought stuff too.  But I did NOT buy any of these:

Although I do have a headband that looks like that bracelet.  And it's awesome.

Until the next Target trip (aka, tomorrow)...

Love and empty wallets,
Courtney

The Exercise Ball Saga: Part One

Amy and I have really great ideas most of the time.

No, seriously.  Last week, Amy suddenly got the idea that she wanted to get an exercise ball to sit on at her desk instead of our fancy ergnomically correct desk chairs.  Naturally, me having the I-want-to-be-a-cool-kid complex that I have due to the fact that I grew up being a nerd, I wanted one too.  And we didn't want to wait around for these exercise balls... we're all about instant gratification.

Amy: "You want me to pick you up an exercise ball at Target?"

Me: "Uhm well I think I'm going to Target anyway so I can just get one myself."

Amy: "Do you want to go to Target...together??"

We realize that a brilliant plan has started.

So that night we met up at Target and spent approximately eleven minutes picking out which exercise balls we wanted to buy.  The best part was that they were only NINE dollars!  The next morning, we were both way too enthusiastic to wake up at the crack of dawn and get to work to play with our new toys.

We quickly realized, however, that we had a serious problem:

Amy: "Uhh... this ball is looking sort of small.  Like, really small."

Me: "It's not even blown up yet!  WHERE IS YOUR POSITIVITY?!"

I slap Amy across the face to show her who's boss.

Amy continues to pump up her exercise ball, feeling wounded and alone.  I stand over her, triumphant.

(Just kidding about that last part).

Meanwhile, I start to pump up my exercise ball.  My pump, for some reason, squeaks like a dog's chew toy.  Sue in the cubicle across from me glares.  I ignore her.

Amy: "Maybe you should use Jay's pump so that you don't sound like a fool."

Me: "Sounding like a fool is my job.  But okay."

I switch pumps.  Jay's sounds like a squeaky toy too.  I wonder why things like this always happen to me.  Sue glares at me again.  I ignore her.

Back to the serious problem part:

Amy: "Courtney, this ball is like one foot tall.  This ball sucks."

The ball, indeed, is about one foot tall.  Amy sits on it.  She looks like a fool.

Me: "Well... I guess we need to go back to Target."

We begrudgingly and noisily deflated our exercise balls and packaged them back up.  Somehow, the ball does not fit into the package that it once came in.  (Why?  Why does that always happen??)  Still being fans of instant gratification, Amy and I made plans to go to Target during our lunch hour.  To the outside observer, the immediacy of this action might seem unnecessary.  To us, however...

It was dire.

At approximately 11:48am, we pulled up to Target and returned our exercise balls.  We were both disappointed when only nine dollars was refunded to us because we forgot how cheap the exercise balls were.  We each shed a single tear.  Then we spent approximately fourteen minutes picking out new exercise balls, which included sitting on yoga mats that we thought would adequately measure how high our new chairs would be.  Passerby stared at us.  We gave them the finger.

In the end, it came down to the choice between a MEDIUM sized ball and a LARGE sized ball.  The decision was difficult:

Amy: "I really don't know what to do."

Me: "We have a fifty-fifty chance.  Listen, I sat on that yoga mat and it seemed good to me."

Amy: "Yeah, and you looked like an idiot"

Me: "Here, I'll do it again right now."

Amy: "Stop it, you embarass me."

Me: "I go to therapy because of your criticism.  Why don't you accept me?"

Amy: "Deal with it."

Me: "Let's get the medium one."

Amy: "Okay.  Let's do it."

So we each grabbed a medium-sized exercise ball and headed for the checkout.  At the register, looks of tentative enthusiasm crossed our faces.  If we only knew what was to come...

To be continued...

I'm a Little Bit Unnecessary

This book.

I'm a little bit obsessed with it.

It all started when I had to go to the grocery store to get like two completely needed things, and Joseph said, "Let's go to Target even though it's further and the roads are all flooded and it will cause you to buy unnecessary items" and I was like, "Why?" and he was like "Because I want to look around."  But I thought that I'd be okay because I went to Target twice last week with Amy and all I bought was an exercise ball, a pair of hand weights, and a plaid shirt.  So I told myself, self control, self control, you can do it, you took a two-week trip to Europe and you're broke.

And then we pulled up to the Target.  And I knew I was in trouble.

This was, like, the most monstrous Target I've ever seen in my life.  It was the king of Targets.  So I said when we pulled in, okay, I'm going to buy a candy bar, and I won't feel guilty about it because I'm now prepared.  But then Joseph said, "I want to look at the multimedia section."  So I relented and we walked over.  But there were books on the way to the multimedia section.  And not... just... books...

Cookbooks.

Lots of them.

And I opened the cover of Hello, Cupcake!

You see, I had heard of this book from both the Paula Deen show and my internship at the TODAY Show, but I wasn't a victim of it's unparalleled magnetism until I opened the cover.  It shows you how to make LITTLE PEAS AND CARROTS!  GOLDFISH BOWLS!  KITTIES AND DOGGIES!  I can't handle any of it.

After over-enthusiastically showing Joe almost every page in the book he looked at me and said, "WELL, JUST GET IT ALREADY!"  And I said, "Noooo, it's fifteen dollars and so unnecessary!"  And he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me until I agreed to get it.  Then I went to the chiropractor.

Just kidding.  But he did say to me, "Nobody should like something that much and not get it."  Which really makes perfect sense, right?

So fifty dollars later, we left Target and I neglected Joe all night because I was looking at all of the cupcake pictures and now I want to make cupcakes every day of my life.

Someone please stage an intervention because...

Because...

Because...

There's a sequel.

Love and SOS,
Courtney