Punder the Weather

from BellaRegazza931 at iconator.com

Listening to Sweet Afton by Nickel Creek. Very relaxing when you feel like death in a hoodie.
Chugging honey-lemon tea, eating honey-lemon cough drops, and burying myself in tissues. 
    In case you haven't guessed, I'm sick. Popped* into the minute clinic for a visit and they sent off a lovely little throat swab from yours truly - the symptoms just hit this morning, so they said the strep test may have given me a false negative. I can not get sick, though it's obvious I am. I'm going to visit Coco Bean on Wednesday, and I really don't want to make that trip sick. No fun at all.
    I'm the kind of person who's totally useless when sick. I actually fell asleep in the Commons on campus today, in the middle of the lunch rush when it's super loud and busy. I put my head down on the table and fell asleep. It wasn't for long, though, because Johnny kept poking me and asking, "Are you sure you're okay?" To which I lied, "yes." I can't even take naps in my bed in a quiet room when I'm healthy, but when sick, tables look pretty comfortable. Once when I was in high school home sick, my mother asked me to throw in a load of laundry for her, which I did. Without soap. I was so out of it, I didn't think to put soap in the washing machine.
    Also, I dislike doctors. Quite a lot. They have shots. And shots involve needles. And needles make Sarah's left eye twitch. That being said, I willingly took myself to the CVS minute clinic today. I even got a shot. That's right. I got the flu shot. I've got the band-aid to prove it. And I didn't even gag when she swabbed my throat! Okay, maybe that's a stretch. I didn't gag much. Hopefully I'll know by Saturday if it's just a virus or strep (no thank you). In the mean time... honey and lemon overdose.
    On a more positive note - a few puns (and jokes)!

• Our neighbor across the street recently got a new kitten. My sister Maggie loves cats. She nearly kisses the fur off of ours and they're fat and stupid, not young and adorable. She told me - in jest - that she wanted to break into their house and steal the kitten. I replied, "That would make you a cat-burglar." Ha! Oh c'mon. You have to admit that's a clever one. 
• At work, someone asked me how spicy the jalapeno cheddar bagels are. I said, "They have a little kick. You can bite these bagels, but they're gonna bite right back." Right? Right?
• And today at lunch. With Johnny. I can't have a punday without Johnny. With my head down on the table, I moaned in misery. Johnny, thinking I said something, asked, "What'd you say?" "Nothing, I was just moaning. Like Myrtle," I joked. He gave me a look that said, I'm about to make this dirty. But I beat him to the punch. "Well," I said, "it was a basilisk." Sorry for those of you who find dirty/slightly sexual jokes offensive. I really couldn't resist. I mean, it was Harry Potter.

*At first, I accidentally typed "pooped." I was thisclose to leaving it, but decided that was just a little too far.

Pun-forgettable, That's What You Are

Listening to Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on ABC Family. I keep saying it's about time for a Harry Potter weekend! 
Stressing over grades, what else?
    Not sure if it's the stress or something I ate (the latter being more likely), but my stomach has been completely pathetic today. Luckily for you lovely readers I've a few puns I've gathered over the course of the week!

• During choir rehearsal at my church, the ladies were trying to find our note. The accompanist just happened to be playing a triple octave of the note - a D-flat. So one of the ladies said, "We must need to put on our 3D glasses!"
• At lunch today, my friend Johnny threw salt at everyone then said, "You've been a-salt-ed!" He's a clever one. ha ha.
• Also at lunch today, I was playing with my sauce from my pasta, and I admitted to Johnny that it was childish. He responded with, "No it's not - it's saucy!" 

    I don't know what I'd do without Johnny to make silly jokes during lunch! He's a hoot and a holler!

On NaNoWriMo (and other things) And a Letter

Listening to I've Got the World on a String by the one and only, Frank Sinatra. My lover. Like no other. Okay, I'll stop now.
Stressing over school. Mainly stats. Only stats. Please kill me with a blunt object.

Dear Statistics,

    You know that feeling of impending doom you feel before you get on an airplane? No, well, you know that feeling of impending doom I feel before I get on an airplane? Every time I do one of your problem sets, that's what I feel. And my brain gets scared and locks itself in a lead box, through which I cannot communicate with it. That's your fault. It would be really cool if you didn't make me cry anymore. It's not nice. 
    Sincerely, 
Sarah Jane Eller
    So, those of you who know me personally (probably the only people who read this blog are people who know me personally. Except for you random folks in Germany and Russia - shout out! Whaddup?) know that math gives me rashes. It also gives me panic attacks, hot flashes, and causes hyperventilation. They seriously need a warning label for statistics. I received a particularly poor grade for my last test, which I went to extra study sessions for, and actually studied for (as opposed to my first test, for which I did little preparation).
    That being said, I still have not completely decided if I'm going to participate in NaNoWriMo this month, as I have the last two years. (If you are unsure what NaNoWriMo is, click here for the full run-down... or write-down... sorry. ha ha. But to be brief, it stands for National Novel Writing Month, and you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.) I realize that my school work (read: stats) is going to require a lot of extra time and effort, but I also don't want to ruin my little record. I've won every time I've attempted it, and I don't want to stop now. It feels good to know that I can do it, and it feels even better when I do do it. (ha. doo-doo. Sorry. Again.) Know what I'm sayin'?
    Also: I do want to be a writer. Biggest ambition, right there. I will be teaching Latin, but in my down-time, I will be writing. Don't I need the practice now? I can promise you two things right now: first, I will never use stats again in my life. I will avoid it like those creepy zombie babies at Halloween stores (anyone else? I almost wet myself the first time I saw one). Secondly, if I don't pump out 50,000 words this month, I will regret it until the day I get published (I probably won't care after that, because, hey, I've got my book on the shelves, yo), and that day may never come.
    I'm not asking you, surferdudes of the interwebs, to justify my writing of a novel in lieu of applying myself in statistics. There is no question here. I will be (forcibly) choosing stats over my novel. So if it doesn't get finished in the 30 28 days left, that's why. And I want you to know. WITH THE INTERNET AS MY WITNESS (that's a lot of you) MY POTENTIAL FAILURE IS NOT MY FAULT.
    Blame statistics. 99.9% of the time, you're failure can be blamed on math. Math is always at fault. In the language of logic - shoutout to Brother Gil of eighth grade who taught me logic - "Math is always a fault-haver." Why couldn't I take logic instead of statistics?