Day Twelve: What's Your Type? (Yellenahs)

This blog is a day late because yesterday I was busy going straight from classes to work to party, and didn't have a moment in between to ponder my type.

I was with a Mr. Nice Guy once, but he was just so nice and not very fun so I got bored after a couple of months. After this I began my string of Sleazeballs, which isn't very fun either. That's been my type by default lately but it's not something I'd like to keep up with. I don't need Loaded because I prefer to pay my own bills, and I don't really need too many nice things. I'd break them anyway. Beefcake would be more into himself than me, and I definitely need some ATTN.

This is a toss-up between Married With Kids and Handsome Prince. Married With Kids obviously knows how to handle commitment (maybe not, due to uh me), and if he's a good dad then he is so sexy. There is nothing sexier than a good dad. Keep that in mind, boys. I would feel pretty bad breaking up a marriage and forcing the kids into weekend homes and such though. Handsome Prince is probably pretty cool, and has probably been taught how to treat women right. I hope. He's also handsome. Obviously. I would feel as though my future were secure, and that's important. I bet I'd also get to travel the world with him, which is also important. That'd be so fun!

Handsome Prince is the winner!!

Day Twelve: What's Your Type? (Anailuj)

Today the book gave me an itty bitty checklist of "types" of guys and I'm supposed to check one as a reminder at drunken parties. I see two flaws with this:
1. I don't drink, so I'm not likely to somehow forget what I like.
2. This is a very limited checklist. It only offers Beefcake, Mr. Nice Guy, Loaded, Married with Kids, Sleazeball, and Handsome Prince.

Thanks, book that was clearly written by men (the choices for women were mostly related to hair color and lesbians). I happen to dislike all of these choices. You can probably come to pretty accurate conclusions about why I don't like Beefcake, Married, and Sleazeball. It's aslo safe to assume that I'm not after Loaded because I'm not a golddigger.
"But why, Anailuj," you want to know, "Don't you like Mr. Nice Guy or Handsome Prince???"
I'll tell you.
Mr. Nice Guy is delightful, really. But the honest truth is he's just too nice. He's nicer than me, for sure. And that would make me feel like a mean nasty person if I was with someone who was perfect all the time. Argue with me. Question my ideas. Match wits with me. I don't like being wrong, but I don't want to be right just by default.
You can still tell me I look ravishing all the time.

As for the Handsome Prince, it's not that he doesn't exist, it's just that he's actually a prince. His name is William, and when his grandma (God Save Elizabeth Windsor) dies he's going to be the king of England.

I don't think I really have one particular "type." My taste in boys is about as eclectic as my taste in music. I guess I'd just say that we have to be able to have mind-blowing... conversation. He has to be able to make me laugh so hard my face hurts and I maybe pee a little. No hard drugs. I don't mind alcohol or a little pot, but anything else is pushing it. And don't lie to me. I'd rather have the difficult-to-stomach truth than an easy-to-swallow lie. He has to kill icky bugs for me, except the ones that are too big to kill. He has to put those ones outside, but far away from the house.

It would be nice if he also worshipped the ground I walked on, but I realize that's something I have to earn by being a reciprocally fantastic girlfriend.

Day Eleven: Introduce Yourself to Someone (Yellenahs)

Here's the thing. Anailuj has huge balls and I do not.

There, I said it.

I don't like talking to new people. I like talking to people once I know them. But meeting them is a huge feat of nature for me. I'm bad at it. And I didn't see the one person that I really need to introduce myself to today.

So I talked to this girl in one of my classes. I didn't "introduce myself" per se, as I did not give her my name. But we did talk! And we talked last week. So she might learn my name sometime soon. And it will be almost like I introduced myself today.

Then I went to work, and I started training in Starbucks today. I introduced myself to the woman who trained me. I knew her already! I knew her but did not talk to her! And now I have introduced myself to her. My task has been completed.

Day Eleven: Introduce Yourself to Someone You Know But Never Talk To (Anailuj)

At the school I go to, there is this student-run magazine called Generation. It's fantastically funny and offensive and smart and it brightens my day every time I read it.
Except now Generation is no more, because the powers that be at my school decided to get pissy with it for reasons I won't get into and suspended its charter and bylaws. They did all of this without a passing "Yo" to the editor-in-chief, Andrew.
Andrew happens to be a personal desire of mine, and every other female who read Generation and actually paid attention to who wrote what they were reading. Andrew's literary voice is (I tried a lot of adjectives in place of this word and there is no other that fits him so well) absolutely sextravagant (TM Anailuj 2009). He gives the impression of a wise-guy, a sex-fiend, a comedian, an independent voyager of the open road. If he ever reads this, I'm pretty sure it will make HIS day to know that I think of him as the Kerouac of our immodestly large university (but he'll also think I'm a creepy stalker who spends way too much time contemplating his genius. But for the record I am definitely not the only girl who feels this way about him). A sixth-year senior, he seems to have no idea what to do with his life, although in my humble opinion he could easily become the next Dave Barry. Who?

Anyway, I have a class with Andrew this semester. And today I decided to actually say something to him. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey. Andrew.
Andrew: [turning to me, one eyebrow raised] Yes?
Me: Is Generation ever coming back ?
Andrew: Uhhhh...I don't know. They don't tell me things. I'm not really in a position to say...[continues on with vague comments, making more eye-contact with his computer screen than with me.]
Me: That sucks.

It was a lot less glorious than I'd envisioned. I think my being a stranger and all sort of caught him off guard. But I feel way cooler about myself now that I've demystified him. This guy is sort of as much of a celebrity as you can get on a college campus with 25,000 undergraduates. And he was sort of shy.
It was adorable.

Day Ten: Meet Jonas Day! (Yellenahs)

Hi Jonas, my name is Shanelle. How are you? Oh, not so good. Oh yes I did hear you had to pay 1000 crowns because you kissed that woman. That's too bad. It was probably because she was Canadian. I guess it really did change your life, though!

Nice to meet you.

Day Ten: Meet Jonas Day! (Anailuj)

Today the book introduced us to a fine young Swede named Jonas Jansson (I'm pretty sure it's pronounced "Yonas Yansson"). The writers apparently ran into him at a mall and asked him to be the guinea pig for their book. He said yes, and in his first week of Changing His Life, he broke up with his girlfriend and got himself arrested.
You can read about him at http://www.thiswebsitewillchangeyourlife.com/.
You can also apply to marry him.

Note: We have the first (2003) edition of the book. It's now called This Diary Will Change Your Life and has been issued every year since with new tasks by the good people at Benrik.

Day Nine: Do Something Before Breakfast (Anailuj)

Yellenahs and I had originally planned for both of us to call John on this day at around 6am and express our surprise that he wasn't up yet. But we can't hide our excitement about anything from John for very long, and we told him. So of course he turned his phone off.
Often we are stupid.
Today I had to get up around 5:30 am to babysit my cousins. (Babysitting: the one job the government will never try to tax me for.) So I was up and definitely doing a lot of things before breakfast, but today I decided to do something special. So I walked out of my house and did twenty jumping jacks in my driveway, in the dark.
Then I wrote a poem about it and texted it to John. It went a little something like this:
Dearest John,
In morning dark,
There does not sing
A single lark.
Yet twenty jumping jacks I did;
From not a single car I hid.
Now making chai tea in a cup,
I'm wondering:
Why aren't you up?

He didn't get it until he turned his phone back on, but I like to think that it was an awesome way for him to start his day.

Plus, doing jumping jacks in the cold definitely woke me up. I'll probably do that every time I have to babysit in the morning.

And I would count that as a change in my life.