Bro-tastic

Summertime marks the time of the year when a certain breed of boy comes out to play... The bro. It's not that bros hibernate or something, they actually exist at all times however the sunshine makes them come out of the frat cave and into the streets giving nature enthusiasts such as myself a chance to see them in their natural habitats. There are a few types of bro:

The Tank Top Bro:
This specific bro rocks girl tank tops. Okay maybe not girl tank tops but tanks none the less. A lot of times these bros hit the gym hard to get their swell on. They have arms that are far to large for their legs and are probably a bit obsessed with getting a tan. Many a time these bros are also from Cali and say hella. They also wear bright colors and neon. Beware of sick trucks.

The Boat Shoe Bro:
These bros wear topsiders because they cannot get over that they are no longer in the ocean. With these bros beware of pastel color button ups. Sometimes these bros are not as into body building as tank toppers but still wanna look tan. BMW optional

A general note about bros: They are usually in packs (wouldn't wanna go anywhere without your fratastic crew) and they do a lot of laying in the sun. Similarly they all own cars/trucks that are way to expensive for anyone under the age of thirty and they are usually accompanied with a red cup and a few freshmen. They also play their music far to loud. (seriously we all don't need to hear what you are listening to)

A song (sung like the 12 days of Christmas

On the first day of Summer Boulder gave to me A douche bag from Northern Cali

On the second day of Summer Boulder gave to me two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the third day of Summer Boulder gave to me Three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douch bag form Northern Cali,

On the fourth day of Summer Boulder gave to me Four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the fifth day of Summer Boulder gave to me five Fake IDssssss
four Neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the sixth day of summer Boulder gave to me, six bros a wompin, five fake IDs,
 four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the seventh day of summer Boulder gave to me seven bros a tanning, six bros a wompin, five fake ID's,
 four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the eighth day of Summer Boulder gave to me, eight skanks a skanking, seven bros a tanning, six bros a womping, five fake IDs,
four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali

On the ninth day of Summer Boulder gave to me, nine bros saying hella, eight skanks a skanking, seven bros a tanning, six bros a womping, five fake IDs
 four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali

On the tenth day of Summer Boulder gave to me, ten bros lifting weights, nine bros saying hella, eight skanks a skanking, seven bros a tanning, six bros a womping, five fake ID's
 four neon tanks three red cups two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the eleventh day of Summer Boulder gave to me eleven trust funds bros, ten bros lifting weights, nine bros saying hella, eight skanks a skanking, seven bros a tanning, six bros a womping, five fake IDs, four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali,

On the twelve day of Summer Boulder gave to me, Twelve fraternities, eleven trust fund bros, ten bros lifting weights, nine bros saying hella, eight skanks a skanking, seven bros a tanning, six bros a womping, five fake IDs, four neon tanks, three red cups, two bros on a moped and a douche bag from Northern Cali

Spring Break

Ah Spring Break the time for sunburns and bubble burns (for those of you who don't know when you go to a foam party and get your bump and grind on, the foam leaves a nasty rash aka bubble burn). Time for one night stands and keg stands... you get the point. For me however it is time for cleaning and working. At least this year, instead of jetting off to exotic places I slept, worked, cleaned and drank. Normally, boulder is bumpin, people in the streets fun parties excitement. Not so much over break... the streets turn desolate places close down and the weather turns bitchy. Okay so there was just a ton of wind. I HATE wind more than anything. It scares the shit out of me. I feel like everything  bad happens on a dark windy night. Plus, sometimes if a huge gust of wind hits me I have a hard time breathing. I was informed that this is strange. Anyway so I got some pretend tanning in (I don't really tan I freckle and burn). I had to do all this tanning in between bursts of gale force winds but I still managed. I cleaned the shit out of our house where I discovered one of our windows is made of plastic and I found about $3 in change. Anyway two very exciting things happened. The first.... we made MEAD! Thats right I have reached a whole new level of drinking where I am crafting my own booze. If you don't know what mead is... google it. It started with a text of excitement.... then a trip to the grocery store. People stare at you strange when you are drunk and buying a ton of honey. Then we went to Ripple... it's a sin to be so close and not get frozen yogurt. So deliciousness and supplies we headed to Kristins house. We began to prepare. I plugged the sink and started thawing the honey 

Poor honey bears, they look like they are drowning. Well I'm brilliant and on accident put the plug in upside-down soooooo I broke Kristins sink. I guess I should probably go fix it. So next, we mixed all the ingredients.

Kristin had some troubles with the raisins.... then it was time for a drink break...

Naturally There were margaritas involved. It's always a drinking event. Hooping, Mead and Tequila... the best combo. We are planning on drinking our Mead on the 4th of July or If one of us bangs The hottest man in Glenwood. 

The other great event that went down is my mom came to visit. This is kind of a typical thing but this time was going to be different because I had plans. Big plans. To do fun things. We were Going to go tour the tea factory and go to all these fancy dinners and go hiking and go to a dinner theater. Oh and we were going to ride the Carousel of Happiness. 

Most of these things didn't happen. EVERYTHING was closed. Legit. So instead we ate a ton, laid around a lot and went to the dinner theater. 

Have you ever noticed that whenever you go to a live show you manage to fall in love with someone on stage? Always happens to me. Happened to me again at Swing. 

Anyway while all of you were out tanning in exotic places. I did a whole lot of nothing except propel my alcoholism to a new level and eat everything in sight. 

The Trouble with Hipsters

Every day I walk past Roma Cafe the smell of expresso fills the air, and the sound of happy people chatting hits my ears ...and am extremely careful not to step in dog shit. Along with the large amounts of dog shit that somehow end up on that side of the street in that particular corner, another thing bothers me about this specific location. The mother fucking hipsters. Now I am not one to be judging other people but hipsters drive me crazy. I can pretty much feel them staring at my running shoes and Buffs gear being like "She is so conformist, I bet she even likes top 40 music." Well yeah I do like top 40, it's super catchy and I'd like to see these hipsters bump and grind to their Alternative Rock. Anyways I hate Cafe Roma because of the judgement thrown at me.

For those of you that don't know what hipsters are: They are trendy non-conformists. They typically hang out at casual coffee shops, and like read poetry. They don't like the things that the general public does and they usually wear black thick framed glasses and do something artistic.
It's like when film majors come up to you and are like I saw this really cool film that had this super cool thing.... but you wouldn't understand... boom hipster judgement. I know this about hipster film majors because I am a film major... and I get talked to by the older film majors like this.

Today was terrifying. After a long day of filming I went to see my friend Kristin at work and snag some free food. I was planning on sitting down and doing some relaxing with the new book I got. After grabbing my food and my chai I began the read... As most people who have ever met me know, I get distracted quite easily... my mind began to wander
My Mind: I'm really glad I got my glasses this is easier to read.... Glad I took a chance on these thick black frames... I like the way I look..... man I need new clothes I haven't bought many new things in a while..... Mmmmmm delish Chai..... I love the way Saxys looks, it's so trendy...... ahhhhhh Edgar Allan Poe and Jack Kerouac, can't wait to dive into you.... man there is still some film in my ugly ass purse... long day of artistic filming......FUCK
FUCK
I'm a god damn hipster...
SHIT
I had just listed all of the qualities necessary for a judgy mcjudgerson hipster.... Artistic career choice, thick rimmed glasses, poetry, non-conformist clothes, trendy coffee shop, LIBERAL.... All I was missing was the side swept bangs and the better than you attitude. I panicked and texted Jilian in need for someone to put my mind at ease that this was simply a mistake.
"You're not a hipster, you are Siobhan" the ever wise Jilian reassured me
"Siobhan disguised in hipster trends"I replied
"Sure" Jilian replied, obviously not concerned of the disgustingness I had brought upon myself... After enough calming down I was fine and only needed a shot to reaffirm my Siobhanness.

St Patties.

Twas that time of year again. My favorite day after my birthday it was recently discovered that Thanksgiving, Christmas and Halloween are all tied for third. Anyway the day started off as any average irish holiday. A shot of Jameson. As a Sullivan family tradition on St. Patrick's day before breakfast there must be whiskey in the system. I used to be forced to do Bailey's before I was old enough to tough out the real stuff but now it's Jameson.

So my morning started off right. This was also before my phone took a sprite bath. After some very long classes I started the fantastic walk home. Its a funny thing that when you walk with a smile on your face, people think you are a straight up freakkkkkk. So people looking at me like I'm crazy I bounce all the way home to get dressed. A few whiskey drinks, some makeup and a straightener later I was ready to party. Unfortunately I wasn't in the correct state to put a lid on my waterbottle filled with sprite soooooo my phone went swimming. Luckily I am the one person in the world who has an Iphone backup despite its cracked as shit screen. Disaster averted. Now my phone is nice in a bag of rice (that totally rhymed) waiting to recover. 

A few things happened later, only a few of which I actually remember on my own. Two car bombs after way to many shots, yelling at a friend for being rude to a girl, I got locked out apparently and went to bed on my roommates couch only to be woken up later by my wonderful megan to bring me upstairs to bed. All of which were not in my memory. 

Oh I also fell asleep while peeing. 

Basically every year I rage far to hard to begin my day with, pass out early and miss my favorite day of the year. Ahhhhhh such a catch 22. 

I went to class still drunk the next day, despite my long ass sleep. 

In all seriousness though, my thoughts and prayers go out to everyone who is hurting from the shooting that night. 

The Take Over

This will be quite short because it is happening NOW. After class just now I came to the UMC for some lunch and studying. The UMC isn't quiet by any means but I can usually get a table and get shit done. After getting lunch I lucked out and found a nice empty table for me to spread out on. As I sit down an Irish string band starts up... literally. No worries I can put in headphones and still focus. As I'm sitting a hippy in green and a hippy in white begin talking right beside me.
Green hippy: It's pretty crowded today
White hippy: Well we could sit over there (looking towards windows)
Green hippy: Or we could just ask her
I kept my head down hoping that my pretend ignorance would save me from having to be polite. No such luck.
Green hippy: Can we sit here with you?
Me: Yeah for sure *big fake grin* (what I really wanted to say is "No, I'm trying to study and you probably smell").
So the two hippies sit down. My spread out space shrinks. I adjust. A few minutes later another hippy in black shows up, now I'm surrounded. My space went from  my whole table to one fourth of the table. Not only am I surrounded by hippies that are completely invading my space, but they have newspapers, and now they are spreading them out and doing crosswords. Really hippies really? Not only have you invaded my personal space but now you are relaxing in my bubble..... Oh and they have their own personal mugs. I don't know why this is important but it bothers me.

UPDATE: I can't leave I'd be surrendering to their crafty hippy maneuvers. And they are talking about Rhinoceroses and sex. Seriously.

UPDATE: There are now at least 5 open tables and green hippy and hippy in black are still camped out at my table... bouncing it around ruining my handwriting.

Mexico

When I was a Senior in high school my parents made the very poor choice and let me go to Mexico for spring break. There was a group of 5 of us and a "Chaperone" I use the quotes because as much as my parents wanted to believe that there would always be an adult around, there really wasn't. I'm pretty sure our "chaperone" bought some weed and spent the whole trip blazed on the beach. This was careful planning on the part of the high schoolers. We knew he would not stay out to the wee hours of the morning with us and that was the plan. We were trying to get into as much trouble as possible. After making it through the airport with only small issues we arrived at the promise land, where drinking was legal and we were free.
Naturally the first thing we did was get booze. After plenty of drinks our little high school hearts were feeling rambunctious and we had an elevator stairs race.
"I'm not drunk" I hollered carrying a bright pink drink in one hand and a bright blue drink in the other. So we started running and true to form... I ate shit. In my mind it went something like this.
Woah stair snake, it just bit me and now I'm falling.
 Shit I can't waste the drinks.
SAVE THE DRINKS!!!
Unfortunately I did not save the drinks and I ended up with pink and blue sticky syrup and tequila in my eyes and on my face.
It was like alcoholic mace
AHHHHHHH
I thought I would never see again. Fortunately I could see again ten minutes later.
After a shower and horrible food which could have easily been dog in a mexican sauce we were out for the evening.
A cab ride with Ana Kornicovas boyfriend (our cab driver) we arrived at the club and began our drinking. As far as I remember I got thrown up on and drank a lot. Also the bartenders stole my shoes when I did body shots. Yeah I was that trashy drunk white girl and I was loving every second of it.
After the first night of drinking I was wounded and shoeless. The only thing I learned was no tengo zapatos porque baracchas. That means I don't have shoes because I'm drunk. I use that phrase far more than I anticipated.

Horror Movies

There is a reoccurring theme when I watch scary movies. The night starts off with me feeling ballsy I'm like fuck yeah lets watch a scary movie I will not be terrified later tonight. After the opening credits, which always have scary music I'm like, humm okay this isn't so bad I think I might be able to handle it. After the first murder scene I'm just like FUCK my eyes are the size of plates and I'm straight hugging myself. By the third disgusting bloody scene I'm hiding my face in my hands counting down the minutes till the minutes on the dvd player match what I just read on the back of the case. By the end of the movie I'm like jesus christ I'm about to get murdered by some zombie, imaginary ghost, psycho killer. At about that point the person I'm with is like

Friend: "Hey uh are you okay?"

Me: "Ya uh sure" my mind consumed with what is about to jump out at me

Then starts the true terror. Alone time. 

I say goodbye and walk to my car, my head bobbing like one of those dash board doggies seeing if anyone is following me. I get my keys out unusually early so there is no fumbling. I unlock my car, jump in, lock it right back up, this way no one has time to get in. Then I check the car again just to make sure no ninjas have secretly been in my car waiting for days.
As I drive home I have images of men with chainsaws jumping out in front of me, or some nails someone threw in the road popping my tires. By the time I have to decide which way to go up my hill I'm completely irrational. I go by pure instinct because obviously my good instincts will save me in any horror movie.
Things get even worse when I get to my house the small walk from my car up the stairs and in the house is now the longest obstacle course ever. I have to make sure that no one is sneaking up behind the car, that no one is hiding under the stairs and that no wild animals are in the dogs yard. I sprint up the stairs flailing all of my things around just in case something dares try to get me I'll whack it with my computer bag and boom I win (there was also a short period of time where I would honk, in case of bears).  I get in my house and immediately lock all the doors and check the rooms... everywhere but the basement. If there is something in the basement I'm straight fucked. By the time I feel safe every single light in the entire house is on and I'm curled up on the couch thinking about the monstrosity that I just watched. My brave proud feeling I had when I first began this miserable journey is absolutely gone. Finally I get the courage to go to bed, surrender to whatever killer is hiding in the house. I have a specific pattern for the lights so I'm never truly in the dark. Washing my face is always scary I don't want to close my eyes then something is popping up in the mirror. To combat this, I wash one half of my face at a time, always keeping one eye open. I enter my room, luckily my closet doesn't have a door so I can always tell if it is safe or not. Here comes the grand finale... I take three long bounds and leap onto my bed, relief that nothing grabbed my ankle from under the bed (The Sixth Sense I blame you for that one). Shivering under the covers I realize that something that should have taken 30 minutes to get home and go to bed in reality took an extra hour and I vow to never watch a scary movie again.

On a completely unrelated note, everyone should follow me on this blog thing, because it makes me feel good. Yeah. 

Dermatologist

It is a widely known fact that I am a true ginger. I have all the ginger qualities, red hair, white skin, freckles, no soul, the works. When it comes to my red hair I am obsessed, I would never want to be blonde or brunette (no offense to any of them). I think my freckles are adorable and I really do have a soul, just like the ginger in the youtube video. My only issue is with my pasty white skin. I pretty much glow in the dark. I have done everything humanly possible to change this, except go reverse Michael Jackson. Unfortunately for me, that leads to skin damage.

It was a normal night at work when BAM I was informed that my life was in danger.

Boss: What is that on your arm

Me (snapping out of whatever daydream I was in): Uh I dunno a mole.

Boss: That looks like cancer. 

Me: Oh it's fine I have had it for a long time.

Boss: A 15 year old girl died in *Some town in Colorado* from melanoma. 

Me: Well shit..... *long pause*...... are you saying I'm going to die. 

Boss: No but go to the dermatologist. 

Me: Okay I'll call my mom. (No real intention of calling my mom)

Boss: Siobhan, write it down so you don't forget I'm serious about this. 

Me: Fine (I'll really call my mom)

Boss: Let me see your legs ( looks at every freckle and mole) Okay seriously go get a full body look over. 

Me: Okay jeeze stop scaring me.

I was now convinced I was going to die so the next morning I called my mom.

Mom: Hello?

Me: I'm going to die.

Mom: Okay? Why?

Me: I have skin cancer, can I go to the dermatologist?

Mom: You have health insurance honey, use it. 

I then scheduled a dermatologist appointment for as soon as I possibly could which was a week later. My entire week had a black shadow of looming death above it. When I got to the dermatologist I realized I was not going to immediately keel over and die, I simply needed a mole removed and I needed to keep an eye on the other ones to make sure they didn't morph into some sort of monster mole that was going to eat me with it's cancer. 

I made an appointment to go get the thing sliced off my arm. The next tuesday rolls around and I am up at 7 am to go get chopped up.... okay maybe chopped up is an exaggeration but still. So I arrived at Wardenburg to wait here

Then they called my name, which of course they said wrong Seeobahaaaannnnn Saaaaiiiiooooobhhhaaaaannnnnn. To which of course I dutifully get up and go correct them. Then through the maze that they call hospitals. I'm not really sure why hospitals/medical clinics always end up looking like the maze at the end of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, are they trying to keep you in? It's extremely concerning. Anyway, I get there and do some more waiting here

I also don't understand the amount of waiting they make you do at the doctors. Like seriously if I wanted to waste hours of my life I would just go get drunk and hoola hoop. Normally, if my mom would have been there we would have been going through the drawers like these

or these

but I was here alone this time so I wasn't feeling ballsy. See when my mom and I go, we look through all the medical shit to see what they are hiding, if there are any human heads or creepy shit like that, we will know were about to get murdered. Anyway off came my gross mole and skin cancer and in went three stitches. I even kind of got to watch which was really cool. So now I go in two weeks from now to find out what it was anddddd to get my stitches out. Oh but this is what my arm looks like now

I also told everyone I had stitches and didn't tell anyone why so now in peoples imagination I'm a bad ass fighter.... at least thats what I hope they are thinking.