I Used To Be A Girl Scout

When I was little, I was a Girl Scout. You might think Girl Scouts are all about tying bows and ponytails and making crafts and gossiping.. And you'd be mostly right. In my experiences in Girl Scouting, there was also lots of screaming, arguing, competing over who sold the most Girl Scout Cookies (the Catholic girl who was the youngest of 8 always won), and getting injured. Our favorite pastime was shrieking that we actually sold fifteen more boxes than Mary Jane and that she was a lying meanieface who should have her Good Friend badge revoked. All in all, it was basically like high school drama, but with more crayons and less stoners.



Not like real life.



I particularly remember one lovely summer day that we were going up to a camp-out in the woods. I was ecstatic at the opportunity to rough it and live off the land- I could go fishing, I could hike around the woods and be a dashing, daring explorer... I was pretty excited. Everyone else seemed to be less so, and I didn't know why all the girls had brought bug spray and swatters shaped like butterflies. Sitting in the car, I was next to a nice little girl whose name I can't remember at all. She was more tolerant than anyone should be of the bouncing little girl with the bowl-cut who was shrieking that she wanted to meet a bear.

I did not get to meet my bear.

In fact, I did not even get to go on a hike, nor did I get to go one step outside except between the condo and the car.

My innocent little heart was shattered as soon as I got out of the only hockey mom in the troop's car and saw the white stucco-ed building with huge windows and an old sign reading “Girl Scouts” and then unintelligible words. We were staying there? We weren't going camping at all. I was angrier than a bull in a china shop- actually, no, that bull wouldn't be mad at all. I was angrier than Michele Bachmann at a Socialist Convention. I stomped my feet and declared that I wouldn't go one step further until I got to get into a tent and go camping for real.



You don't think this can be messed up? Not even by burning? You're wrong.



I got picked up and brought inside and chastised for disrupting the troop, when all I had been doing is preaching the truth to the poor mindless lemmings who were all right with sleeping inside on a nice comfortable set of bunk beds. I wanted to rough it, and I would rough it or I would die trying. I was still trying to set up my sleeping bag on the roughest part of the floor when I heard someone call that s'mores were being made. Being a pretty chubby little kid, that cheered me right up until I ran to the voice and saw the most evil act that may have ever been committed. Hitler would freeze and cringe in shame. Stalin's knees would knock and the Joker would have to avert his eyes.

The s'mores were sitting in the microwave, as right in view of the window was a campfire place absolutely radiating an air of “use me! Light fires, right here!”. The s'mores were in the microwave, and I was sitting inside in an air-conditioned condo, listening to my troop call it a campout and talk about how they were so excited they were really camping.

I think I threw a plastic cup at someone as I sounded my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world. I was more intimidating than Reptar (or Godzilla, for those of you who had no childhood) to those poor troop leaders as I careened across the kitchen, decimating everything in my way and roaring the third-grade equivalents of obscenities at the top of my lungs. Needless to say, I was put in time out.

But sitting there and mumbling about how my individuality was being repressed, I looked out the window and discovered, to my delight, that sitting on the trash cans next to the door was a humongous racoon. This condo had a wall almost completely made up of windows, and so when I shrieked, “LOOK GUYS!! A RACCOON!” every last Girl Scout looked up and shrieked too. The difference was, I was happy and they were terrified.



How I saw the raccoon.



As I sat making cooing noises at the raccoon through the glass, I heard a huge crash and looked to see a wailing girl lying beside a knocked-over table, clutching her foot. She had apparently fallen backwards because of how scared she was of the very threatening small mammal behind panes of glass that really couldn't care less that she existed. Everyone started to fawn over her, and in an act of pure spite, I sat and talked to the raccoon for a few moments before running over and asking if she was okay.



How everyone else saw the raccoon.



She'd sprained her ankle.

At that point, I decided to quit Girl Scouts.

I still like these, though.

Sometimes...

Posts like this happen at 10:09 pm because I really, really needed something to do. It was originally intended to replace that little blue with pixel hearts thing above the archives and links, but then I realized it was too big, and it'd be bad if I sized it down with MS paint. So I added different words (originally, it was going to say "Rez Please") and here it is.

Enjoy.

Edit:
Sometimes, I edit posts because I don't want to make a new one and this one is kinda worthless anyways.

The reason for the edit is that I need to apologize for all the editing going on right now with the blog's layout. I may change the background, or the header, et cetera, but it should all work the same as it does now with the archive, link, and labels in the right column.

Thanks for being patient, I'm still getting this started. <3

The 4 Most Annoying People I Met At Band Camp

I don't like people sometimes.

Like today.

Today was day two of Band Camp, which overall was an absolutely wonderful experience. The only problems? People. I mean, I do dumb stuff. Everyone does dumb stuff. But some people do so much extraordinarily dumb stuff that it's enough to make you cry.

These people, however silly they look, are not on this list.

So today I'm going to present you the 4 kinds of people that make me (and the few people I polled about it) the most annoyed. I won't tell you names, because more than likely there's more than one of 'em.

#1: The Snobby One

He/she doesn't talk to people outside their friend group. When they do, it's more of a one-way conversation. They don't try things that everyone else is doing and when asked to do so, they complain. They also seem to not like realizing that they are this person, and like all of us, believe they are wonderful people.

The difference is, most of us can pick out the word "believe" and laugh at ourselves. The Snobby One is incapable of poking fun at themselves, although they tend to be great at making fun of others. The Snobby One is usually a girl, as male Snobby Ones are generally not called snobby and just called douchebags. There isn't much of a difference.

If you encounter the Snobby One:
Give them no reason to notice you, or you may have to deal with them. And nobody wants to deal with someone who thinks they're better at whatever they're doing than everyone else. If you can't do that, then I suggest waiting until they're asleep, then writing expletives all over their face. Be creative! The more creative you are, the better they will understand your message.

Example Snobby One:
 

I feel personally victimized by Regina George.

#2: The Friend Who's Only Your Friend When Their Own Friends Are Gone

You've probably befriended someone, gotten along great, and you're all ready to be besties for life. Then, all of a sudden, someone else comes floating through and goes, "Hey, Name!" and your bestie-for-life is suddenly gone, attached at the hip to someone else.

They're usually nice, tolerable people, but they use you to entertain them when they're bored. They may not even realize they're doing it.
In some instances, this friend will not simply abandon you, but will instead make you the "third wheel" and pretend to like you. You can tell because you're never the center of the conversation- the Friends will include you, but not engage you. This is sometimes worse.

If you encounter the Friend Who's Only Your Friend When Their Own Friends Are Gone:

There's really nothing you can do short of confronting them about it, or ignoring them if you don't care about being rude. I suggest getting their attention back and affirming that you are a fun, friend-material person by doing something fun and spontaneous like throwing a water balloon at them to instigate a water balloon fight. Water balloon fights ALWAYS make you friends!
  

Example Friend Who's Only Your Friend When Their Own Friends Are Gone:

Guess which one is you.

#3: The Kid Without Social Skills

You've met him. That's the kid in your Algebra class in 8th grade, the one who made the jokes that weren't funny or kept farting loudly and giggling or had oozing zits all over his face. Maybe you felt a little bad for him, so obviously clueless about what's going on, at first. But eventually, like all of us do, you probably started getting irritated with him or her.

That is all, completely, totally a hypothetical situation. The author has never, ever been in that dilemma, not even once.

If you encounter the Kid Without Social Skills:

Option A: The Kid Without Social Skills may be your friend. In this case, I suggest trying to "cool"-ify them. Draw on a mustache with a Sharpie. Dress them in a suit and tie. Give them aviator glasses! But if they won't do this, then you could always dress them up as a monkey and start your own circus show.

Option B: If the Kid Without Social Skills is just the weird kid in the back of the class, pretend they don't exist. If you're a saint, take them under your wing. If you're a normal person, smile awkwardly at them and then complain to your friends later.

 

Example Kid Without Social Skills:

Now, I don't know this guy, so I shouldn't judge. He just.. He... Okay, everything about this guy screams "Forget this part of my life ever happened."

#4: The Hot One

The Hot One may be super nice, super smart, and a great person. Since I am a girl, I don't know how guys deal with The Hot One of their own gender, so that's why I won't go into that.

The Hot One is, of course, amazingly hot. It's like you took Angelina Jolie's charisma and perfect skin, and put it into a teenager. The rest of the teenage world is covered in zits and awkward growth spurts, but The Hot One has none, and has a great body. They're probably also talented. Maybe they're an artist. Maybe they're one of those movie physicists that can take off their glasses and let down their golden hair in one, smooth motion. Maybe they're even your best friend.

In any case, it sucks to be around them. You may like them, but they will magically make you uglier with every second you stay there.

(The opposite of the Hot One is the Fat Friend, but the Fat Friend makes everyone else feel good and so they can't be on this list.)

If you encounter The Hot One:
If they're the sex you're attracted to, don't do it. The Hot One knows they are hot, unless they're blind. They will also know that you are NOT another Hot One, and thereby ignore you, or pity-date you (pity-friending is also common).

Example Hot One:

If you're friends with her, I hope you're funny.

Now, I feel better about the world, and you are equipped with tools to deal with these people. Enjoy. 

How To Play A Holy Priest In Arathi Basin

If you've ever played World of Warcraft, you may have witnessed what it looks like when a priest (particularly holy) enters a Battleground. In this post, we'll use Arathi Basin as an example. They'll be standing beside the flag, guarding it with everything they've got and possibly even killing something on their own, when a rogue unstealths and kills them in one hit.

If you play a priest like I do, you may need to develop some coping mechanisms to win the Battleground, or at least not die five times in one run. These are my favorites, one of which I actually use.

#1: Stand by the opposing team's rez location and stun them. It doesn't matter if you die, because you'll be having fun (and maybe they won't expect it so you can get your first Honorable Kill)!

That doesn't work very well when some Orc Death Knight pops up, drinks a potion, and turns to you going, "That blood elf mage you killed in the last BG? That was my alt."

Spoiler: You'll die. Even if you look like this.

#2: Stay at the Stables. God forbid you EVER move, even if something else is falling. In Priest School, they'll instruct you to stand there awkwardly at the base closest to your graveyard, then cry when nobody comes to help you as you die. If you're losing, complain loudly in Raid Chat.

#3: This is the one I use ingame, because it works. It has a few steps and requires some materials that you may or may not be able to acquire, which is why it's going to be most of this post.

You will need:
1 good rogue
1 base that's contested, but not too much (I find that Gold Mine or Lumber Mill works the best. Just.. Not the Farm. Ever.)
Yourself
A lack of dignity

You have that? Good. Here's what you do.

As soon as you enter the BG, call out incessantly in Raid Chat for any rogues willing to help you. If they don't respond, then just keep talking. It's not you. Obviously, it's that they're too shy to go along with your great plan.

Eventually someone should respond. Message them and convince them to come to your chosen base with you. Caps lock is the best for this. It will convince them that you believe in your strategy so much that YOU ARE TYPING LIKE THIS JUST TO SHOW THEM.

Other people may follow you and your new Rogue buddy to the base. Pretend they do not exist or they will swarm you like Murlocs at Crystal Lake going "HEY, WHATS GOING ON? LOL".

Once you have your rogue, ask them to (or refuse them buffs if they don't) stealth right next to you at the base's flag. It's best if the other players (the ones who aren't supposed to be there anyways) hide. Or leave. Leaving is just as good, although maybe you should keep some if you're not as confident.

(Here's a tip for being confident: Make a druid. Spec them to be a tank. DONE. YOU ARE NOW WAY TOO CONFIDENT IN YOUR ABILITIES.)

Now that you're all in place, give up on killing anything. Your wonderful, very important job is to be bear bait. Sometimes, this is literal, but mostly it'll just be Hordies. (Or Alliance, if you're a looooser.)

So stand still. Just kinda chill. Maybe dance. If you're a female night elf, definitely dance. Eventually someone will come running up to attack you. Sometimes they even take two or even three hits to do it! Then, while the attacker is murdering you with ruthless abandon, your rogue will unstealth and stab them.

Rogues are good at that.

This is a Spirit Guide. She rezzes you. Get used to seeing her.

At this point any other people there will run out asking what happened and why the priest is dead. This strategy works especially well on rogues who like to "ninja" capture bases. They unstealth, seeing no danger, when in just a few seconds they'll look like Colonel Ackbar as they scream in rage "IT'S A TRAP!!" at their computers.

At least, that's how I like to picture it.

Good luck, my fellow priests. Try not to die.

Hi.

So, basically, this is me.

My name is Sarah, and I'm a 16-year-old girl who spends her life on the internet.

So now that half of you have closed your browsers, I'm assuming the other half are still reading because I gushed at you for long hours about the beauty of this endeavor or you're my friends and can't bring yourself to lie later and say "Oh, uh, yeah, I read it!". It's like stepping onto Mars for me- a Mars made up of actual responsibilities (namely, writing posts). Thereby, I can't breathe.

Because of that, instead of actually writing something funny, I'm going to start this off by explaining what a weird anomaly (is that even the right word?) of a person I can be and telling you about myself. To do that, I'm going to use a list, because lists make it easier to not have to actually write with diction and syntax and all that stupid stuff I had to learn about from my American Studies teacher.

First of all: I like fashion. I also like staring at badly dressed people and judging them in my mind while pretending to be an upstanding, kind citizen.

Second: I also like videogames. I was just playing my dwarf paladin on World of Warcraft. I spend my whole life PvPing in sweatpants with my hair in a messy bun, drinking Diet Coke in my bedroom and snapping at everyone who interrupts me. (I'm sorry, family. I'm sorry.)

Third: I have a life, sometimes, maybe. I'm expecting it to die after I start this blog.

Fourth: Oh god why did I do this to myself?

There isn't really an appropriate way to end this making you all feel like you've read genius humor, so I'll just make you a bunny.

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