JibJabbin'

Last year I thought I had the smartest, funniest, most thoughtful idea. I would make my friend a JibJab video for her birthday. I giggled to myself as I thought about her reaction. It was going to be her favorite Facebook post, for sure.

For more than an hour I sat in my apartment and chose a video template, uploaded pictures, and meticulously cropped our heads to look proportionate to the bodies. As I clicked "Done" and looked for the URL code, I was greeted with a nice message that congratulated me on my new video. It also told me that it would only cost $12 a year to become an exclusive member at JibJab. It also wouldn't let me post the video without paying said $12.

You're now looking at a card-carrying exclusive member of JibJab. Be impressed. Or tell me I'm the biggest sucker in America.

I've decided to take full advantage of my credentials and make as many of these babies as possible. I know, JibJab videos were so 2009, but I'm still entertained nonetheless. I'm riding this fad train to the last station; I've invested too much time and money to turn back now.

Please enjoy my latest creation. Kenneth Parcell and I had a blast at Soul Night at our community center last weekend. Hope you like our moves (as well as our many wardrobe changes).

So how did my friend like her video? Unfortunately I had a mild lapse in judgement and decided on the "Farting Office Birthday Song." Turns out that's not the most tasteful video to be posting on someone's wall. But I know she appreciated the thought, even if it was crude and a little unbecoming.

Be on the lookout for more videos in the future, and don't be surprised if you get one of these for your birthday. I'm about to go do some ribbon dancing with Justin Beiber. Peace!

lemonAID

Q: What do you do when you've just graduated college, only to find that the job market is as murky as the Gulf of Mexico?

A: Have a lemonade stand.

Why should little kids make all the profit? They don't need the money. What are they going to buy? Something frivolous like a Skip-It or Ribbon Dancer (that's what I did)? Unemployed graduates are the ones that need the cash.

While discussing this paradox a couple of weeks ago, my friend Erica and I decided it was time to reverse this trend. That's right... we would have a lemonade stand, and subsequently make a bazillion dollars. I must admit that at first, I thought we were joking about the idea of two twenty-two year old gals holding a lemonade stand. But it turns out that we were serious. Very serious.

Yes, we meant to spell it that way.

So we mixed up some Country Time lemonade, put some ice in a cooler, made a couple of signs, and headed toward the most busy street in Trussville, AL. Luckily, Erica brought along her bullhorn to garner attention (which we got plenty of). We played a fun game of "wave violently at every person who drives by and make them think they must know you, and therefore slow down." That was fun.

We thought the blue paper was a nice touch.

We had three kids who walked by on their way to the pool. They said they "didn't have any money." Yeah right. I know that act. They were just threatened because us older kids are re-claiming the lemonade market. But being the kind, mature women that we are, we gave them free lemonade if they promised to spread the word about our stand to all of their friends at the pool. But they never came back. We felt duped.

At one point during the 30 minutes we were at the stand, we began to yell, "fresh-sqeezed lemonade!" But our lemonade was made from store-bought powder and water, so were essentially lying to the good people of Trussville. But then Erica, in a stroke of genius, quickly told me to give the lemonade a big squeeze. Problem solved. And morals in tact.

Squeezing the lemonade.

I know you're all dying to know how much money we made. Although we had high hopes of being able to retire early, we ended up only making $2.50. One man actually had a $20 bill out to give to me, but stupid Brittany told him the $1 bill would work just fine. *hitting self on head*

I'm so thankful Erica (who is actually employed and has a wonderful job) was willing to join me on this venture. We're currently scouting new locations and brainstorming new sales tactics for another stand in the future.

And I'm looking for a real job that will pay more than $2.50. And benefits would be nice, too.

london calling

My friend/roommate/future blogger Emma is moving to London in August. Yes, London is calling her name, and she'll be attending grad school for the next year in one of the coolest cities in the world. Naturally, we decided to throw her a proper Bri-ish-themed surprise party before she hops the pond. And yes, I'm going to use the phonetic spelling of "Bri-ish" throughout the entirety of this post.

The menu was a slight variation on some Bri-ish classics. Fish (sticks) and (potato) chips, scones (slice-and-bake cookies), Bri-ish candy (Cadbury chocolate) and of course... tea (Earl Grey and Milo's). Also, I somehow conned Emma into making some raspberry bars for her own party.

That worked out nicely.

The decor? Really expensive stuff. And the boy from Twilight. The goal was to be as classy as possible. Mission accomplished.

The music? Titanic's soundtrack, which was conveniently on television that night. Nothing says "party" like eating fish sticks while listening to Jack and Rose freeze to death.

I think it's safe to say that this gathering was the bee's knees. We all had a jolly good time, and Emma was gobsmacked that we were able to pull it off. I think it's also safe to say that I just successfully incorporated three Bri-ish sayings in the last two sentences.

Yes, friends. It's true. Jack dies at the end of Titanic. Sorry I gave it away.

I've been dropping a few subtle hints about wanting to come visit in the fall. On an unrelated note: Emma, if you're reading this, have I ever told you how much I love London and air mattresses? Because I do. That was really random. Just wanted to tell you that.

I don't think I could be any happier for my friend and the incredible adventure she is about to embark on. But I'm also trying not to think about the fact that I probably won't see her for a while...

... at least until I come crash her flat.

cheerio!

I'm out like a fat girl in dodgeball

I had the honor of being part of an intramural dodgeball team this semester. Of course they asked me to play because of my unmatched athletic skills and cat-like reflexes. Or maybe it was because they just needed another name on the roster/someone to make fun of. Hmmm...

There was a lot of training that went into these games. Two-a-day practices every day for a year. Running every morning at 5 am. Watching lots of film (My favorite was Sherlock Holmes). Death crawls on the football field. Standing in front of a pitching machine. We lived, breathed and became dodgeball. But as soon as we stepped off of the bus and onto the court in our snap-off jumpsuits for the first time, and the lights dimmed and "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" started playing on the PA system, all of the blood, sweat and tears faded away into a distant memory. It was time to hit people.

The team's main strategy was to confuse/intimidate/embarrass every team we played. We did this mainly through our themed uniforms, but also through the clever things we yelled at them (i.e. "Y'all are stupid!" and "Your mom!"). But when yelling simply wasn't enough, we came up with the best gameplan of all: scrabble night. That's right. Everyone wear a different letter, and we'll form the most appropriate messages to spell, not yell, to the other team:

"Why be weak?" Yes, this was the best we could come up with. We didn't have enough vowels, ok?

My personal strategy was to hang around the back and hide behind people. We had a winning season, so I think it worked well.

Toward the end of the season, the team was hit with spring fever. Hard. We all tried to wear our g-string bikinis to one game, but it turns out we attend a private Christian college. It's ok, though. If you think it hurts to get hit by a dodgeball while fully clothed, then you can only imagine...

Even though the 2010 season is over, and even though some of us are graduating, we have not stopped practicing. No, quite the opposite. We have actually increased our training. Why? Two words: London 2012. Yep, they're adding dodgeball to the Olympic events.

Well, I've got to go now. Everyone is waiting on me at the gym, and I still have to go take my steroids.

I'm out. (...like a fat girl [or Brittany] in dodgeball...)