Sunday, April 11, 2010

Ms. Tucker goes to Washington

So my reason for going to Washington might differ slightly from Jimmy Stewarts' but I am excited nonetheless. A couple weeks ago I was offered an internship at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. It's pretty insane to say the least. I applied for a few other internships and got rejected and I had pretty much given up, so the phone call from D.C. at 6 a.m. one morning really shook me up.

I'm very excited but I'm also extremetly nervous. I have that wanna-puke feeling sun up to sun down nowadays. I'll only be gone for 10 weeks, but it is going to cost a lot of money, I've never left home for that long before, I've never been further east than Texas, I am scared to leave my boyfriend, I don't know anyone there, and I won't get to spend my time wasting away in the hot Utah sun like I usually do during summer. However, this is also a once in a lifetime opportunity, it's going to look awesome on a resume, I get some school credit, and I think my boyfriend is going to come out and visit me and we're going to take a little trip to New York! I honestly have no idea what to expect, but I'm going to make the most of it.

I need this for many reasons. For one, I need to prove to myself that I can go out and try something new and scary, make new friends, and see new places. I also think I need to get out of Utah more and this will help me prepare for grad school (which is only about a year and half away!) I also think it will help my relationship life out. I have a lot of insecurities, like most people do even if they won't admit it, and going away, pretending to be confident, and experiencing something on my own will hopefully help me strengthen my personal awareness and realize that I am a strong and valuable person. I also hope that it might just make a certain someone realize how much I mean to them.

I will most likely keep this thing updated as I take my adventure. Look for me flashing gang signs behind Obama, and feel free to live vicariously through me. I might even buy you a souvenier if you are extra kind, or send me $5 bucks.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Less than a point.

Here's just some garbage I found in my desktop folder labeled "Pointless." I actually think there is a point to all of these things, but I haven't quite figured them out yet. Enjoy. And after you enjoy them, take a gander at this. It might just change your life.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Schmutzig Schnurrbart

So I haven't written in a while, not that YOU, the vast space of the interweb really cares. I've met a lot of assholes lately that deserve some good ol' fashioned, internet baked, pie in the face.

1-- German Cameras-- This is the kid with the spiky hair that is not quite up to The Cure status, not quite soccer mom, but definitely somewhere in between. He thinks he's European or something, but with no taste, no sexy accent, and the fashion sense of a 12 year old rebellious private school student. (Ties, converse shoes, swears, ill-fitting ripped up jeans.) So one day in class he decides to delight us with his presence and some knowledge that will now be completely out of context and hard for you to understand. I'll try my best. Basically we were discussing whether technology has helped us socially and mentally, and I made some brown-nose comment about how it has made us somewhat lazier, less imaginative, and has decreased the number of face-to-face relationships.

Professor: Yeah, yeah I agree.
German Cameras: Well I collect German Cameras. Does anyone else here collect German cameras? (slight pause, no class response) Thought so.....

Blah blah blah the rest doesn't even matter. At that moment I just had two things to say, 1. If German cameras are so amazing, why don't we all own one? 2. Who the hell said anything about cameras? Oh and I also wanted to call him a "Schmutzig Schnurrbart" which means "dirty moustache" and tell him that if he didn't know what that meant, he had no room to talk about anything German. And then I wanted to physically do two things. 1. Punch that sucker right in his spiky noggin and 2. Throw up in my hands and flail them in his direction. I think that would really teach him.

At this point, I am bored of my own writing and I don't necessarily feel the desire to keep going, so I'm just going to list the rest of the assholes with short police-blotterish descriptions. You can make up the details for yourself. Cool, it's like a game for you.

2--Janetta--Round physique, short straight across bangs, glasses, sweaty, sweatshirt. Doesn't ever shut up. Spills her drink all over her desk and wipes it up with her sleeve in the middle of a comment, and never pauses her speech. Opens up sodas slow, making a long "Pshhhhhh pshh pshhhhhhhhhhhhh psh..." sound which pisses off the teacher, gets put on the comment-making-back burner for the day, but still manages to speak more than anyone else.

3--Struggling writer hippie--Came in for a tutorial at work, plagiarized her entire 1 page summary, yelled at me, thinking I made up the word "plagiarism" and its definition, asked me if I liked her socks "from Journey's, you know, the shoe store," and ultimately freaked the shit out at me. If I were to make up a word, I'd make up something cooler than "plagiarism." Give me some damn credit.

4--Guitar kid--Thinks he is always on camera, looks like a character from this crappy 70's era version of a Chaucer's Tale that I watched in high school, is always singing and carrying around a guitar, sits down at a table in the hallway across from a lady trying to do her job and serenades her with some impromptu bullshit with lyrics, "I'm looking for a reason...." meanwhile inserting comments to other people passing by, "I'm looking for a reason.....hey, nice hair dee doo dee da da." Someone needs to tell that kid that he should probably take a back-burner with Janetta and then the two of them can talk and sing over each other until their vocal chords get so worn out from all the noise that they are making that they start talking like Diane Rehm (only without intelligent things to say), and then Janetta's drink will explode (for the last time) making her so frustrated that she'll leave to Germany to buy herself a German camera which she can then film Guitar kid with, and the two of them will make some disgusting movies together, get married, and talk each other literally to death, and meanwhile give German Camera someone to talk to so he can stop annoying everyone else. I'm not too concerned about Hippie girl, cause I'm pretty sure her anger and self-hatred will get the best of her. She's more of the self-destructing type so I don't have to imagine long run-on sentences about the end of her.

And that's it. You all might hate me by now, but really you should just be thinking, "Wow, I'm glad Madelyn has the balls to say all of this because I think of this stuff everyday and let it fester inside of me until I explode like Janetta's drink and make my therapist metaphorically wipe it up with his sweatshirt sleeve." You dudes are SO welcome.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Obsession by that stupid Twilight lady writer

Well, Caroline asked me to start writing on here again, so here I am. This one is for you girlfriend! (Oh and for Hannah cause according to facebook, she loves my blogs.)

Lately I've had an obsession with cute animals. I'm pretty sure I am reverting into a child because I can't get enough of monkeys and puppies. If you were to present me with a tiny animal figurine (or anything small for that matter) I'd probably love you forever. And ever. I am infatuated with anything small. For instance, at Smiths there is this shitty, crunchy, mini-french bread bull shit that I only love to eat because I can call it "tiny bread" and I feel like a lady at a French tea party when I eat it.

Another thing I am obsessed with is crying. I don't know why I was born the most emotional person on the planet but it gets annoying. I think I suppressed a lot of feelings when I was a child and teenager while my mom was sick and I was forced to act like a grown up, so my emotions are making a come back like Micheal Jackson tried to, only I am alive and succeeding at being a freak. (Too soon? I can't believe I made an MJ joke. How cliche.) So now I cry at movie trailers, bodily functions, whenever I lose something, when I spill something on my clothes, when I see kids that look like me, and when I even think about my dad getting old. After a fit of crying I usually have to pee and then take a nap. I waste a lot of time crying, peeing, and napping. Thanks Ortho Tri Cycalin Lo. Or maybe I should just thank myself for not knowing how to not cry, or maybe I should just blame it all on my bulbous ET eyes I have been blessed with. Thanks God.

I'm also obsessed with trying to predict the future even when it is impossible,
thinking about the past,
and often times screwing up the present.
Oh and cussing.

Footnote: I feel like this last part just got super lame. Who do I think I am? Emo shit. Maybe I'll just go bite my pillow and have the most kick ass sob fest of all time! Right on! You bring the kegger and I'll cry you a new one! Hellz yeaaaaah bitttch!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


F. U. U. S. A.

F. U. U. S. A.

America turns out to be a terrible place after all. So I found this great site where you can watch all these documentaries for free and I feel like in the past week I've gained a lot of insight from wasting my time on there. Not only can a person be tortured without being charged with anything, you and your 86 year old grandmother can be searched at the airport everytime you go because you wrote a compelling essay about the secrets of the Iraqi war.  I've learned from other shows that crack addicts become call girls, Patti Smith was a badass, and old people can make porn. Gross. 

Anyway, I feel like people should watch it.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Ryan B is the way to B.

It's 3 am. I can't sleep. All I hear is the hum of Arrested Development coming from the other room because the dumbass that built this home made the weirdest room ever with two doorways, and only one door, with a closet the size of all the other bedrooms combined. It smells like old people. 

I'm writing this so Ryan can have one last hoo-rah reading my blog before he scoots on off to Madagascar. Are there even people there? I'm going to miss that Cobra.

So it's finally summer. Thank heavens. But now I realize how bored I am, and how much I need to get crackin' on those hobbies! Last summer was the greatest. I made new friends. We lit roman candles out the windows of my car which resulted in me putting out a small fire that started on Ryan's chest, we stayed out late, had fake acid trips, took real life spontaneous road trips, hobo camped in Austin's field, ate peaches in gigantic storage rooms, captured flags, waited for free doughnuts, and had FP on a regular basis back when my boss didn't give a crap. What happened? People move out. Bitches move in. Jesus calls people places and we all actually have to work. 

Being a grown up isn't that great. But being the friend of a cobra is fun. Even if we can never have that summer ever again, we can take something from it. 
1. Don't leave the bag of unlit fireworks by your feet when driving around and lighting fireworks that tend to backfire.
2. Don't go to the Mapleton gas stations past dark because cops won't believe that you are 18.
3. Always be someone's bitch.
4. Find something to do besides loiter.
5. Loiter often.

Seacrest out.