Wipe away the anger

Dear ElissaGator,
I can't take it anymore. My roommate keeps stealing my stuff. When my shampoo bottle mysteriously went missing, she finally fessed up that she had been using it for the past weeks because she forgot hers at home. She said she was so embarrassed; only because she got caught! She also has her own bathroom, but uses mine for the toilet paper. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I really don't want to blow up at her, but something has to be done. -Annoyed Anna

Annie,
I hear you. I once had a roommate who did the exact same thing, how weird is that? Maybe my old roommate and your roommate are relatives. Being me, I was able to quickly solve the problem.

Depending on her hair color, you could always put bleach or blue dye into your shampoo bottle and you'll have proof if she uses it again. Seeing how she's already gotten caught, a better way to get even might be to put the dye or bleach in her shower head. I've seen it done in a couple of movies and it seems to work pretty well.

Now the toilet paper problem. There's so many things you could do, but instead of putting habanero chili powder on the toilet paper, a more humane thing is to put itching powder on the toilet paper roll. Make sure to keep a safe roll hidden for you to use so you don't become the butt of your own joke (get it?). She may or may not connect that by using your toilet paper she's putting her downunders at risk. Watch as she suffers; who knows, she may even do the butt-scoot-boogie like a dog with worms.

If you follow these simple, yet effective tips, she'll either never use your stuff ever again, or sign up as a North Korean spy. She probably wouldn't last very long as a North Korean spy, so odds are she'll never use your stuff again. You're welcome.

Oh what do you do in the winter time?

Up here in Rexburg many people complain that there ain't much fun to be had in the winter time. I disagree. One of my favorite activities is to grow my own icicles.

This here is Betsy May. Here's how you make your own Betsy May: take a cup of water and slowly drip it on metal railing. Mind you, the temperature has to be below freezing for this fun outdoor activity to work. Watch as the water drips, then stops dripping because it has frozen. Wait a minute and repeat again. 

Proceed to threaten anyone and everyone that if they mess with your birthed icicle, you will cut them like a heifer at a slaughter house. Such vivid imagery, but you need to get it through their heads. Curse the day that it gets warmer than freezing and your baby melts away like Frosty and the Wicked Witch. They both had magical hats. But one didn’t stop when the officer hollered “halt,” she turned him into a flying monkey. Wait until another cold day and begin again. With some luck, your icicle will be bigger than a goldilocks chia pet. 

See, how much fun can be had. Except losers like my 11 year old brother who live in such warm climates that you can't make icicles. Too bad for him.

Why I Hate Design

Not that any of you will read this, especially my friend J-dog (because it is too much text), but as I was visiting her tonight I was explaining to her why I hate graphic design. I came up with this one night (okay, it was early early morning) after working forever on a project and just had to write it down in my journal. Why I'm publishing this for the world to see, I'm not sure. Maybe it will inspire someone in some weird way.

Yes, I've procrastinated, but only because I still would have spent my life nudging and kerning and still wouldn't have been happy after five hours. But here it is 1:30 a.m. and I want to keep working on it. The sad thing is --I still won't be happy with the final result. It's almost like I get emotionally attached to these projects where I'm breathing and living only that. And in the end, it gives nothing back.

Design abuses me. It can't love me. It can't interact with me. It's inanimate. Maybe I've been trying to hide myself in design, using it as an excuse, only to find it's not the relationship I want or need. I'm the upset girlfriend on the porch running after it as it drives away into a sunset of no feeling. It's a complete one sided relationship. And I hate it.

That's why it has been so much easier not to care. To force myself not to work on it. To hate design. To hate typography. Because if I hate it I don't have to care for it. And caring means a fervent passion. For me there's no such thing as caring only a little.

And because I'm really crazy I've included the project. It's supposed to be an annual report. Don't judge me.