Brains are so annoying sometimes.

Well, most of the times.
I mean, really! You think it could, for once, like what its currently doing right? But no. Always, always it makes me want to do things I can't at a particular time, and then when I can, IT WON'T FEEL.
Ugh.
When you want to work, they wander away to fantasize about Hugh Jackman's mouth, and when you're merrily stalking they sneak up behind you and nag you about how much work you need to do. Make up your mind, stupid brain! Why can't you just focus on one thing?! And your ideas have inordinately bad timing. Every single time. The wonderful blog post comes in the shower. The thing you needed to Google you remember when you switch off the laptop. The soap you needed to buy you remember when you're on your way home. Always. Why?


Equally annoying as brains are brothers. I mean, for 364 days of the year they'll act like total jerks and probably ignore your very existence (exaggerating here, but whatever, exaggerating is fun). And then one fine day they'll go out and do something so absolutely brilliant, sweet, beautiful and unexpected that you forgive them completely for the next 364 days of jerk-i-ness. And no, it wasn't my birthday. Which made it even sweeter. They have the right idea. Get your expectations of them so low that you're thankful when they remember to call you once in a while, and then boom, blow them away with a kind act out of nowhere so that you're walking on air. Stupid, useless, smart, caring, lovable idiots. Hunh.


~Sam

More ramblings. (This is what I do when I have things to say but not enough to make an entire post.)

Hi.
If you're a hyper-sensitive guy well aware of his manliness who refuses to carry his girlfriend/mom's handbag, you should probably leave right now.
As should sane persons and other people who like coherence in their blog posts.

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So first up, if having a baby is anywhere near as uncomfortable as the processes that make childbirth possible, I'm never doing it. Screw experience, one magical moment is not going to make up for nine months of torture. I'll just adopt and pledge my soul to Greenpeace instead.

(Greenpeace because I'm being all eco-friendly by not adding to the population, and because everything-literally everything, from sushi to sanitation- can be linked to the environment. And therefore by extension to Greenpeace.)
(Also, congratulations. You now know that I've never experienced the joys of childbirth.
 (or have I?)
 Bravo.)

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God.
Why, God, why? Why do you hate me? And if you don't, why do you act like you do? Why do you ignore all my sorry's and pleas and thank you's? Do you not care about me? Why did you make me, then, if your plan all along was to leave me?
Why do you not listen to me? Why do you not acknowledge my existence? Why do you ignore all my thousands of thought-messages? Are you not telepathic? But you're God. If you're not telepathic, what hope do the rest of us have?

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Google.

If Google was a person (a guy person) I would marry it. It has everything I want. It's amazing and it's popular, it's successful and it knows everything without being an idiot about it, it looks good and it plays pranks on people, it's unique and it's accessible, it's multifaceted and it has a sense of humor, it's ultra-cute and I bet if it had a smile, it would have dimples.
So there you go. My perfect man is a search engine. 

Though I totally love Sergey Brin, too. Marry me?

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And that is what PMS and a soppy Valentine video from Google does to me.

This post is probably going to come back to haunt and embarrass the life out of me later.

Meh. I'll go eat my Subway now. (Subway <3)

~Sam

This is how our baby was born.

"Baby" obviously referring to this esteemed blog that you're looking at right now.

So if you've ever wondered how a Grammar Nazi and a chick who hates proofreading landed up writing a blog together, wonder no more! For this is how it happened:
Malko: You should listen to Breakeven.
Me: By?
Malko: The Script.
*some sort of confusion*
Malko: YOU'VE NEVER HEARD THE SCRIPT BEFORE?
Me: Of course I have! You're the one who introduced me to them!
Malko: Oh yeah. Of course. I'm awesome. XD *after a moment* You're awesome, too. Webeawesome.
Me: webeawesome! @hotmail.com. Future email id for queries about our awesome bestseller book.
Malko: Yeah! OR...we could blog! WE SHOULD TOTALLY BLOG!
Me: YES! Yes yes yes yes YES!

Fin. (Because that's so much better than "The End").



And if you ever wondered how a Grammar Nazi and a depressed emo chick became friends in the first place: Thus is the combined power of facebook and Dan Bergstein.


And yes, this is the totally awesome 100th post we promised you guys. Totally anticlimactic, right? *looks vaguely apologetic*



~Sam

Words

Nick and Joe Jonas sing "Music's in my soul, I can hear it everyday, every night, its the one thing on my mind." 

Well, for me, that line applies, but with words rather than music. If someone asked me what my soul was made of, it would be words. Don't get me wrong, I love music, but words are my thing, maybe because I can actually work with words when I am absolutely mediocre with anything related to music (seriously. I don't know my genres, I can barely read music and I can't play anything except the humble recorder. No, not the tape recorder. The recorder, which, I'd like you to know, happens to be a certified musical instrument. Which takes about a week to learn to play. But still. I can play something! Achievement!)

Anyways. Words. They are what my life is. Reading them, writing them, thinking them..they are always on my mind. We all use words, but..they mean more to me, somehow, than to your average girl on the street. Words are to me what a painting is to an artist, or a song to a musician, or a tool to a worker. They are what I work with, play with, live with. They are what I think with, feel with. I write in my head all the time, even if I promptly forget what I've "written" as soon as I find something to occupy myself with. I feel in words. I put everything around me, in words. I cannot read something without analyzing it in my head, editing it, complimenting it, enjoying it. I cannot write something without wanting to share it (ergo, blog), to know what others think of it (hint, hint), to make others think with it. To have someone love an article I wrote, is heaven for me. I think I write more for others than for myself. Does that make me superficial? Probably. Do I care? No. I like sharing the joy that I get out of it. I like having someone discuss what I wrote. I like changing a perspective, or bringing a smile, because of something that I produced. If I come up with a good idea, a good sentence, I have to share it, somewhere, somehow. If I write something, I have to make it perfect, or at least try to. If I read something and I don't like it, I have to try to make it right, even if only in my head. 

Words are important. They're a form of communication, and, more than that, a form of sharing, of including, of influencing. Words are humble, but powerful. Words are everything. 

~Sam 

And there goes my effort to try to be universal. *sigh*

And the thoughts go pop pop pop in my head...

..And the wheels go round round round on the bus...

Like so.

You'd think from the title that I was quoting some random famous song. You'd be wrong.

This post basically consists of random thoughts that popped into my head at various times (hence the title), so if the tit-bits seems disconnected and sense-less, that's because my thoughts aren't usually very coherent or linear.

Anyways. Here you go. A little peek into what I think about at night, when I can't go to sleep.

1. Gravity is going to have her revenge someday. For all the airplanes and the free fall rides and the roller coasters and the skyscrapers. She's just lulling us into a false sense of security right now, messing with us, making us complacent. And then, boom, its gone.

Unnatural, thats what it is.

2. Life is crazy. But then again, whose isn't? And if anyone does believe that their's isn't, they're crazy. And even when life is in control, its only for a short time, never for long enough to count. Very volatile thing, life is.

That is not even close to how complicated life is. Its still a pretty good representation though. Lots of shit on the inside, but a nice smiley front on the outside.

3. The best thing about the teenage years? Sarcasm comes so naturally to you.

Give me House and TasteofAwesome, and I will give you heaven. Oh no, wait. I'll give you a funeral. Cuz I'll be the one who'll be in heaven, you see.

4. "Work expands to fill the time available for its completion." Truest thing ever quoted.

This guy said that, would you believe it?
Looks. They can be deceving. Bet he had a teenaged kid, though.

5. Little things, and little people, are cute, whether they be human babies, tiger cubs, or baby sparrows.

Cute

Little things of usually big things are even cuter, viz. baby elephants and giraffes. If I knew what a baby blue whale looked like, I'd probably find it cute, too.

Cuter

Things smaller than a certain limit, however, are not cute-like baby cockroaches and microbes and other creepy-crawlies *shudders*.

I don't even know why Google has pictures of this. 

So the point of this is..of course size matters!

Anyways. Cockroaches are ew, so I'll just end this on a happy note with a picture of Jack:

There should be a captain in there somewhere.

~An Almost Crazy Sam

Sam's List Of What's Hot And What's Snot In A Guy

[Update: This post makes 2014-me cringe, but I think I'll let it stay for reasons of posterity. Things I really had issues with have been cut out.]

Yes, you read that right. It's "Snot". It was originally a typo, but then we converted it into the real title, 'cuz typos can be awesome, just like us.

Anyway. This was supposed to be a fun post, but I've come to the cruel realization in recent days that I'm not really one of those funny writers who can make people laugh about the dumbest stuff (a la Allie Brosh), but this is something I've always wanted to do, and now whenever I find a decent guy I can conveniently tell him to go check out this link so he knows what is expected of him, so here it is anyway.

That was a long and probably grammatically incorrect sentence. I'm scared that I don't care.


Okay, I'll stop talking now. Bye!

One last thing-in case you haven't realized yet, this is a list of what I do and don't want in a guy. Though you probably know this. But just in case you don't. That's what it is. I'll let you get on with it now.

 Warning: It gets kind of mushy by the end.

*leaves. finally.*


Hair:
What's Hot: Dark or light, I don't really mind. I love Hugh Jackman, I love Owen Wilson, though I'm yet to meet a red head I like. What I do care about in a guy's hair is that it should be natural. Guys with those weird gay-looking fringes whose pics they have outside beauty salons are a total no-no. Pete Wentz's emo style is hot, but I'd prefer a more Hugh Jackman look in my guy. Natural is good. Style it well, i.e., get it cut in a decent way, but please don't spend longer on your hair on a daily basis than I do.
Note: I rarely spend longer than two minutes (true story).
Also, it should be soft and silky, and kind of long so I can run my hands through it, though I looooove military cuts, too.
What's Snot: Rough grungy hair. Fringes.

Hands: 
What's Hot: A close friend of mine, the Marshmallow, is obsessed with a guy's hands. She says they should be large, strong, with the veins kinda popping out-in a word, manly. I agree. Soft, calloused, whatever. Just let my hand feel small and soft and feminine in his. And let his be able to support me, make me feel like the safest woman in the world when he holds me with them. (Aww).
What's Snot: Hands that're smaller than mine. Soft girly hands. Sweaty hands.

Physique: 
What's Hot: Well, he should be sexy ;) I don't usually like the bulky type; I prefer a sleeker look (despite the fact that I'm obsessed with Wolverine). A six pack and all that jazz is fine with me, I just don't want him to look like The Hulk. The physique in general doesn't really matter that much to me though, I think.
What's Snot: Obesity. A guy who's skinnier than me (cuz that'd just make me feel fat). The unhealthy extremes of either thin or fat.


Smile: 
What's Hot: Dimples. Are. Compulsory. If you don't have them, go away.

Coming back to reality, if your smile is nice enough to impress me without dimples, you'll do. But if I had to choose between two men, I'd pick the one with dimples. Jus' sayin'. I think I'm so obsessed with them because I don't have them, and I want my future kid(s) to have at least some chance of getting them (Yeah, I'm definitely one of those future planner people).

Besides the dimples, I want nice, straight, even white teeth. No smokers allowed, thank you very much.

What's Snot: Smokers' teeth. Yellow, holey, ugly teeth. One of those creepy cold smiles.

Style:
What's Hot: I don't want a guy who looks like he lost his way from a Paris runway. I need someone real, and a guy in skinny jeans and a barely-there shirt ain't gonna do it for me. Put on jeans, a decent t-shirt, don't ever, ever  tuck it in, and you're perfect.
PS-I love guys in jeans. Malko doesn't get this: Her response, when I told her this, was, "Don't they all wear jeans?"
What's Snot: Looking gay when you aren't. Ill-fitting clothing. This includes too tight as well as too loose.

Sexuality: 
What's Hot: Straight, of course. I don't want to sound like a homophobe, but a bi guy won't do for me either. I'd just feel creepy if there was a possibility that he might have a crush on my ex boyfriend or whatever.  Bi guys are fine too. Coming to metro-sexuality..meh, not really. I want a guy to take care of himself, but I think waxing and getting your eyebrows done is taking things a bit too far. Also, as I said, I don't primp too much, and it'd be weird if my boyfriend spent longer getting dressed than I did. I'm not too fashion conscious either, so I don't really want a cross-dressing kinda guy. I want my guy to be a guy. Not a cave man, but not covered in cologne and Armani either. But overall, as long as you look decent, and don't primp too much, its fine.
What's Snot: Being gay and dating a chick.

Level of Romanticism: 
What's Hot: You probably know by now (since I'm making a list of the traits I require in Perfect Guy, you should definitely know by now) that I'm an extremely romantic gal. I've spent a long time dreaming about Perfect Guy (henceforth referred to as PG), and the least I expect from him is that he return all those years of dreaming with extensive thoughtfulness. Book a yacht for our anniversary, or just cook me my favorite dinner and plan for a romantic night, I don't really care about the magnitude of the act, just that you put some thought into it. Sorry, but a gift voucher for my birthday after we've been together for a couple of years just won't cut it, though I might give you a little leeway in the beginning.
What's Snot: Buying a gift voucher for our fiftieth anniversary. Worse, forgetting our fiftieth anniversary.

Talents: 
What's Hot: You should know how to cook. Everything. Because I can't, and I really don't want to learn either. I'd rather sit on the counter and sigh over you than cry over onions, thank you very much. That's pretty much the only thing I really require, but being able to sing or play a sexy instrument like a guitar or piano would be..another layer of chocolate on the cake, I suppose (I don't really like icing much). You should also be able to open any cans, and be strong enough to pick me up and make me feel small and dainty. Also, after intensively watching weeks of MasterChef Australia, I've reached the conclusion that I find chefs (especially young, blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed ones) really, really hot.
What's Snot: Being a lazy, unemployed, aimless couch potato. I need a successful guy who can look after himself, at least, if not me.

Miscellaneous: 
What's Hot: I would love for you to have long eyelashes, but be prepared for some intense jealousy from me if you do have them. The eyes are important-they should reflect your honesty, and be awesome enough for me to be able to stare at them forever. They should also linger on me often. In a nice way, though. Not in a creepy, leery, stalker way.
You also need to be kind, helpful, generous, aware, eco-friendly, confident, and must worship me. You know, the usual.
What's Snot: Being dumb. Not existing.

Mushy Stuff: 
There's nothing else really left for me to say, so I'll just sum up and be mushy here. I want you to be manly, yet gentle; kind and generous, forgiving and thoughtful. I want to be able to lean on you, but I also want you to give me space when required. I want you to be committed. I want you to be there whenever I need you. I want you to know what I want, even when I don't. I want you to worship me, yet be willing to stand up to me when I'm wrong (and trust me, I will occasionally be wrong, as much as I'd like to deny it), and to have your own opinions. I want you to be understanding. I want you to be compassionate. I want you to be human. I want you to be my kind of perfect. I want you to be mine.

I want you to exist.


~Sam.