I think this blog is just going to be an outlet that I use to freak out about things that I like. I say this because today, 1) a new Aaron Tveit photoshoot came out, and so did 2) the Desolation of Smaug trailer, which included 3) Evangeline Lilly (a.k.a. Kate from Lost) as the elf Tauriel, and also 4) Michelle Chamuel just got saved on The Voice, and she’s my favorite, as well as having gone to my college and also being friends with 5) Team Starkid. All my interests are overlapping and I’M LOVING IT.
In other news (or, well, speaking of which), I’m supposed to go to the Darren Criss concert Thursday but I’m sick and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to rally. Why are the fates so obsessed with keeping me away from Darren Criss? First they didn’t let me get a VIP pass, and now apparently even general admission is just too close for comfort. WHY.
I’m writing this week’s post for SparkLife and I’m torn between describing Joey Richter’s hair as “luscious” or “the embodiment of all human attractiveness.”
Anywho. Twenty-three days until December! I have big plans for December, dudes. Big plans, the least of which is that I won’t be at home to help decorate the tree this year, so I’m going to force them to put me on Skype so I can shout instructions… while drinking cocoa and eating mini candy canes by the bucketload, of course.
Twenty-three days. Twenty-three days. Can I last? I think I can last. At least with the knowledge that are only seventeen days until my self-imposed Christmas carols ban has lifted and I can ROCK OUT. If there’s anything that will test my resolve, the fact that my roommate’s putting up our Christmas lights this weekend will be it. I’ll keep you posted.
I went to the Starkid concert last night, and it was EVERYTHING I WANTED IT TO BE AND MORE. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who’s going, so let’s cut to the end. Tara and I were waiting in line to get these bracelets that also functioned as USB drives and purportedly had “surprises” on them. You should know that this was the most haphazard, ill-conceived line in the history of lines.
“I’m going to have a coughing fit in T-minus twenty seconds,” I said. “Start throwing around words like ‘highly contagious’ and ‘pulmonary tuberculosis’ and we’ll see who moves out of the way.”
When it comes to waiting in line, I would rather swallow fire than cut in front of somebody. This disorderly mass of crazed, sweaty fans, however, was not what I considered a line. I considered this a crowd. And when it comes to crowds, I am a pusher. You should see me on Black Friday; I’m like a caffeine-riddled bulldozer. So believe me when I saw I bulldozed my way through that crowd like I was trying to get the last helicopter out of Vietnam. But it was like charging into a brick wall. We wound up waiting for a little over an hour, and once we got up there we decided we did not want the USB drives after all. We got posters instead, and I got a Starkid button that I brought back to my dorm and proceeded to lose immediately.
Nonetheless, it was AWESOME.
I knew just as I was closing the door that something was missing, but it wasn’t until I heard that little click of finality and had half-turned to go to the bathroom that I thought, OH GOD NO. I was standing there in my Happy Bunny pajamas and dollar store flip-flops. I had nothing but my pink toothbrush and Spongebob toothpaste. My hair was doing things I didn’t even know it was capable of. And I was locked out.
I thought it over. My roommate was out somewhere. I had no way to contact her, because my phone was in the room. I was going to have to find the resident advisor on duty. So I jogged down to my RA’s room, where they have this cute little chart with Velcro markers that tell you who’s on duty that night. There were two. One was my sort-of crush Calvin’s RA. I could just picture Calvin finding me wandering confusedly around his hall with my Spongebob toothpaste and Happy Bunny PJs.
Needless to say, this story ends with me going to the other RA and knocking on the door of a person who was not actually an RA at all.
P.S. In keeping up with my “No Christmas Carols Until After Thanksgiving” pledge, I have created the No Christmas Carols Jar. If I listen to even one line of “Frosty the Snowman,” I have to put in a dollar. This is a whole new level of self-discipline.
P.P.S. STARKID CONCERT TOMORROW HOLY CRAP.
Sometimes I can’t make sense of this blog’s traffic. On days when I actually set aside my Gummi Bears and put my blood, sweat, and tears into a post, there is the arduous trickle of people occasionally stopping by. On days when I post nothing at all, it’s like rush hour in Manhattan and suddenly I have this bamboozling tidal wave of comments to moderate.
What I find most fascinating are the search terms people type into Google that ultimately lead them here. I mean, usually people type in some variation of “elodie sparklife,” “fate loves the fearless elodie’s blog,” and “the twixter blog elodie.”
Then there are those search terms that are specifically geared toward my weird postings and ideas: “elodie blog elodie vs. the lemon,” “good slytherins,” “cake ball recipe,” “miracle brownies,” and strangely the term “make that test my bitch.”
But the real winners would have to be those poor people who Googled “physics of pancakes,” “slurpee acronyms,” and “dog eating crayons” and somehow wound up here. I also feel bad for the people who looked up “how to get out of bed without hurting” and “why are the owls gathering,” expecting to find comprehensible answers to their questions and instead stumbling upon a blog of teenage ramblings.
Days Until the Starkid SPACE Tour: 7!
P.S. I’m getting around to replying to all the comments I’ve been neglecting. Sorry! Doesn’t mean I didn’t like you or your comment, it just means I’m destined to be a lazy hobo who plays the harmonica on street corners for nickels.
STARKID IS COMING TO ANN ARBOR!
STARKID IS COMING TO ANN ARBOR!
Did you hear?! Starkid is going on tour… AND THEY’RE COMING TO ANN ARBOR!
I don’t care if a ticket to this event is expensive. I don’t care if one ticket costs me my soul. I will see Joey Richter in person, and it will be everything I ever hoped it would be.