Sorry it’s so late but here it is!
Today I answer your burning questions! Make sure to watch on Monday for Part II.
My official response to haters. Don’t mess with my greyhound.
Make sure to leave comments on the video of questions you want me to answer tomorrow or you can leave them on this post. Yeah?
Asian Business Man, That’s Me!
Tonight I feel so efficient, and it might have to do with the fact that I’m actually sitting at a desk instead of on my bed, which is where I do just about everything. Study, eat spaghetti, hot glue a school project, get dressed, do my hair, edit videos…everything. For those of you who haven’t tried sitting at a desk lately to work on your laptop, I highly recommend it. Just the fact that I feel like I’m being productive is worth it. Confession: I stole the rolly chair from my parents in order to sit at this desk. I’m sure they won’t notice.
Secondly, having a Blackberry over an iPhone also makes me feel like a business man instead of just a teenager with rich parents. The internet connection might be shit, but hearing the click of those tiny buttons is music to my ears. Take that touch screens!
I just sent an email….woah. Gettin’ shit done.
Thirdly, I definitely have my shit together. You should see this freakin’ room. I spent the night reorganizing my vanity. Crazy night, I know. I just glanced over my shoulder to take a peak at that piece of work. Wow. That’s all I have to say about that. I also color coded my closet. I know what you’re thinking, “Woah Caroline, you’re a maniac.” I KNOW! It looks like one of those paintings where you line up all the crayons and take a hair dryer to them so the color bleeds out onto the canvas. Actually, no, it doesn’t look anything like that. I
Also, I tended to my philanthropist career and picked out a shit ton of clothes to give away. A total of 26 shirts, and my closet is still about to burst.
So now I have thoroughly proven how an Asian business man and I are basically synonymous. End transmission.
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Instant Queue and Tags?
The other night, around two o clock in the morning, I saw that one of my friends had reblogged something. So I texted her “You up?” The following morning she texted back, “Why would I be up at 2 AM?” So I replied, “Well, you reblogged something on Tumblr.” What she said just about blew my mind: “Oh I always put stuff in my queue.”
WHAT?! What is this instant queue that you speak of? How do you even pronounce this word. Is it like ceck or cue? I did a little research and found out that your queue is like a little robot that updates your Tumblr for you. So you set your queue to update every two hours and then throughout the day, you add things to your queue instead of publishing it. What is this black magic?
Now tags. I know what tags are. I’m not that slow. But the thing is, I never use them. Only to identify my posts as “stories”, “review”, or “videos” so the links on my page work. Other than that my posts run around Tumblr tagless.
But I’ve noticed that more people liked my posts about various YouTubers when I tagged them as “Daily Grace” or “CourtneyPants”. It helps people find other Tumblrs that share the same interests. I guess this never occurred to me because up until a week ago I never really explored Tumblr via tags.
So with all this newfound knowledge, perhaps I will utilize these Tumblr tools in the future.
Our Promise
I was peeling potatoes for dinner when I got the call. I had to keep asking the woman on the other line to speak up; I could barely hear her thin voice. While she rambled on about this and that I looked down at the potatoes in the sink, and noticed how wrinkly they were. The water had made them prune, and I could see the sunken in spots on some of them. Might as well throw them out, I thought.
The receiver was nearly buried in my ear drum by the time my hearing aid kicked in and I could make sense of the woman’s tiny mouse voice. She had terrible news, but when you get to be my age, you get used to phone calls being about terrible news. I remember when a phone call in the middle of the day used to mean someone was getting married or having a baby. Now it meant they’d had a stroke or broken a hip. Only this time, the terrible news was even more terrible. It was about you.
I asked Jayme for a pen out of his shirt pocket, and he handed me one. Back in the day I would have simply punched the information into my Blackberry, but my boney fingers couldn’t seem to work those small little buttons. I scribbled down the hospital address and room number, and hung up the phone.
I called my granddaughter and asked her to drive me to the St. Josephs across town. She pulled up into my driveway so quick I thought she’d drive right through the wall of the carport. Everything seems faster when it takes you half an hour to eat a bowl of oatmeal. She hopped out of the car to help me into the passenger seat. She turned the radio to a station that she referred to as the oldies. I swam in the melodic notes of Taylor Swift and Michael Buble.
In no time at all we were at the front entrance of the E.R. A young lady in a tight nurses’ uniform led me down the hall to the I.C.U. I shuffled into the room; it smelled like baby powder. For a moment I just stood in the doorway and stared at your seemingly lifeless body. It was hidden somewhere deep beneath the bed sheets.
I made my way to the chair beside your bed, then plopped down in it hard. There’s up and there’s down, there’s no lingering in between. Oxygen ran from a silver canister to your nostrils. I had forgotten how big your nose was; I loved it. My eyes followed a dripping IV bag down to your fragile hand. I placed mine on top. Our skin which had once been so translucent and smooth was now traced with purple veins and splotchy ink stains. I moved my hand back and forth over yours and felt your loose skin roll underneath.
This wasn’t you. The you I knew was somewhere inside, inside this impostor. I wanted to rip that costume off of your limp body, unzip the masquerade to reveal the adventurous boy I had loved so much. But you were stuck, and so was I.
As I began to pull my hand back, I felt the smallest hug around my pinky. You had wrapped your fist around my finger like an infant and its mother. I gazed into your eyes and saw for the first time in decades, the boy I had known. I saw him windsurfing across the Atlantic and snowboarding in Colorado. The tears welled up in the rims of my eyes, and soon yours as well.
“Remember when you said you and I would be lifelong friends?”, you asked.
“Yeah why?” I played along.
“Do you promise?” The squeeze on my hand got tighter.
“Of course.” I managed to whisper.
And then your fingers uncurled and left my pinky cold.
So if you’ve read my last couple of posts, you know that Courtneypants replied to me on Facebook and Michelle Vargas (creator of FartWithHeadphonesOn) replied to my ask on Tumblr. Well it’s happened again. Grace replied to one of my YouTube comments. By the way, Grace is my favorite YouTuber of all time.
Grace is in a scripted comedy on YouTube called My Music, which personifies the different genres of music. Well her character is Idol which is basically mainstream music, anything that’s played on 93.3, and pop.
Well I had left a comment on one of their episodes asking if the show had a Tumblr, and apparently she replied to me. I use the word apparently because I didn’t notice until today, even though it happened about a week ago. Way to go YouTube.
I know it was Grace because she signed the reply “-Idol”. Now if only she’d haze me on DailyGrace…a girl can dream.
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The Creeper Following I have on YouTube
Mucophilia- Being sexually aroused by hearing or seeing someone sneeze, or even yourself sneezing. Creepy Right?
Well, you guys might have seen my video from last Friday, that literally was about nothing. But while recording I sneezed, and when messing around on iMovie, realized it sounded really funny in slow motion. Well that pointless video now almost has 800 views. What the frack?
Then someone suggested I take this sneezing challenge, so Tuesday of this past week I shoved a whole bunch of pepper up my nose to see how many times I could sneeze.
Well over the past week, I’ve gotten a lot of creepy comments and messages from people who I believe suffer from Mucophilia. They say things like:
- “Do you use tissues or handkerchiefs?”
- “You should do a video where you don’t hold in your sneezes.”
- “I like how you blow your nose.”
Now those might not seem creepy, but then I went and looked at the commenters’ channels. One is called “The Czar of Sneezes”, one is “FemalesSneezingisSexy” and another was “LoveFemaleNose”. Then I actually watched a video from one of their pages, and all it was, was a girl poking around in her nose with Q-tips to make herself sneeze.
And that’s not even the best part. Someone offered me $100 a week for my sneezing abilities. At first I thought they’d photoshop my clothes off for kiddie porn, but then I realized, no, people would just be jacking off to the image of me sneezing. It’s a pretty good rule of thumb, that if someone offers you money for doing absolutely nothing, you should probably say no. Also he gave me a his phone number that didn’t start with 555, so it’s legit.
I’m not going to judge you for your weird fetish, but I’m also not going to indulge it.
Why am I wearing sunglasses with the lenses poked out? You’ll find out soon!
Look what I bought today:
O.M.G.
Where’d you go?!!?
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