My Friendship/Dating Application

A friend of mine was recently telling me about a website that has dating applications readers can fill out if they think they'd be a good match for one of the writers.

Naturally, that got me thinking... What would I put on my dating application? And then I thought, "Heck, who says it should only be limited to dating? Let's make this an all inclusive application for anyone to fill out!"

And thus this application was born. I have way too much time on my hands, kids. 

So here it is. Did I miss anything?

Disclaimer- This is not a serious application. I'm joking. It's funny. Laugh with me. But if you do fill it out, I promise to respond with a grade based on how crumby your answers are. 

x,
   m

Oh, and Happy New Years!

Micaela's Application of Love and Friendship

Name:

Gender:

Applying for: Dating/ Friendship/ Both

Date of Submission:

Answer all questions completely and honestly. Use whatever font you feel describes you. Email your completed application to thesnarkblog@gmail.com. Thanks!

1. Who are your top three favorite Disney characters and why do you like them?

2. Word association- Type the first thing that comes into your mind after reading each word or phrase...

Shark-  

Harry Potter- 

 Ke$ha-

Bull Fighting- 

Caffeine- 

Unicorns- 

Sushi- 

3. Do you want to grow up? If yes, what do you want to be? If no, explain why in haiku form.





4. Explain your ideal date/ hang out in 19 words or less.




5. What are the three most important things in your life? (At least two of these things must be serious.)




6. Tell me about your relationship with your mother.




7. What's the best way to get in touch with you? (Include your email, phone, or any other relevant information.)

Flirting is Hard and I'm Bad at It

When A and I broke up, I thought the world was pretty much over. I was convinced that I was going to die alone with twenty cats in a tiny walk-up apartment in hel- I mean Scranton, Pa. Like, seriously. I was sure that no one else could love me ever again because I was weird and awkward and really really liked playing the Sims.

After a few months, I decided it was probably time for me to start looking at other guys. Not dating other guys, per se, but looking at other guys. Romantically. It was super weird at first. I'd spent the last two years looking at one person, thinking he was the be-all, end-all of my life and, suddenly, there were other people that I was allowed, nay, encouraged to "check out." What does that even mean?

I moved out west a few months later. I was determined to get over A. I made a concentrated effort to talk to boys, but it was hard and I usually gave up before I actually got around to the talking part. I would have really great imaginary conversations with all kinds of guys. I think my brain took it the wrong way, though, because when I finally got to the point where I was cool with talking to a cute boy, my brain was working on overdrive to sabotage me. 

It usually went like this:

Me: Oh, look, a male specimen that is suitably attractive. I wish to engage in flirting activities with him. Brain, ready my mental faculties for flirtation. 

Brain: On it boss. Let's just steer you right over there... And we're good. Commence operation.  

Me: Okay. I said hi and he didn't run away screaming. That's a good sign right? 

Brain: We're doing great. Oh, look. He's saying something funny! 

Me: Wow, he's pretty cool. Run the laughter program, please. 

Brain: Running.  

Me: [laughter] He's saying something funny again. Can we impress him with a witty reply? 

Brain: Naw, man. I've got a better idea. I'm gonna run the laughter program again.

Me: Wait...what- [laughter] 

Brain: Mmm... I can do better. Let's amp up the volume and the pitch. Good. Now try snorting as unattractively as possible. Ooo! Idea! Let's inhale some of our own spit and then hack it up like we have an infectious lung disease! Charming. Wheeze, Micaela, wheeze. 

Me: [dying] ... Wait, he's leaving... He's literally sprinting away.  

Brain: Oh, it's cool. Now it's just you and me. Forever and ever and ever and ever...

You get the idea. And it still happens a lot more than I care to admit. And it's way awkward. Texting is my friend. I have time to override my brain's automatic response with witty responses. And I can do it wearing my pajamas. Texting was invented for the sole purpose of giving people like me the chance to find love, I swear. 

Another problem I have with flirting is that I suck at it, especially when I really like someone. They'll say something cute and I'll laugh way too loud because on the inside, I'm screaming "I am a little bit in love with you. Please read my thoughts and love me also. Thank you."But then with people I don't like as much, I can be a flirting machine. It's a paradox.

That last bit wasn't as relevant as I thought it would be, but I felt like it needed to be said. 

Long story short, I'm not going to die alone unless I end up choking to death on my spit while I'm trying to seduce someone. 

This post kind of sucks. If you made it to this point, I'm really proud of you.

x,

   m

Thoughts from the Airport

I have been traveling since 7:30 am. Two time zones later, I'm stuck in an airport because a flight to Charleston took up residence in my gate and refused to leave. I guess they over-booked the flight so much that they need to move four people to a flight that leaves at 11:30 tonight from a different airport. Trouble is none of the highly compliant passengers headed to Charleston were willing to budge on their flight time. The (really not) adorable couple across from me were complaining about it for at least a half hour. The girl even called her mom to check if it was okay if they got in late. Based on the half of the conversation I heard, her mom was fine with it. But no, they didn't take one for they team, they stayed to complain.

Then the airline gave up and (somehow) got a bigger plane. What? That's a thing? They moved all the awful Charlestonians to another gate. It was fun to watch them run when they were informed that their plane was leaving immediately. Revenge is sweet.

Except it isn't. They had caused such a delay that the airport had no choice but to skip my flight altogether and send in the plane scheduled for the next slot and change my gate.

Ugh.

So now I'm sitting in an airport, waiting for my flight to come at least two hours late. I know I'm complaining. Oh, well.

Being stuck in an airport for prolonged periods of time can be pretty interesting. I got to listen to a pilot hit on a super-skinny chick who works for a non-profit, which was pretty much the most stereotypical chick-flick senario I can imagine.

The horribly un-adorable couple going to Charleston talked a lot about how much the world sucks for them in particular while downing Five Guys burgers. How can you be sad about the world while eating Five Guys?

An adorable older couple talked to a young mother and gave her baby Cheerios. The gentleman gave up his seat so the mother could sit down, saying, "Here, you need this more than I do." I'm glad there are still people like that in the world.

Two middle-aged business men compared web browsers and joked about the end of the world. The one guy was excited to see his mother "before the world explodes." Cute.

I watched two strangers become friends, talking about books, and the news, and how hilarious daily life was. It struck me as kind of magical that two people who will never see each other again could become so close so quickly.

And I watched a lot of people be alone. Airports are unique in that they bring a whole lot of people together from all kinds of places very briefly and then fling them all over the world. Some people like to reach out of their worlds and connect with someone else's. Some people like to stay in their bubble, drink their coffee, and read their novel. Neither choice is wrong or better.

I'm more of an observer. I like to find out people's stories from just watching them. Is that super creepy? It probably is.

Anyway, I'm homeward bound after six months away. Wish me luck.

x,
   m

The Plan

I'm at the age where people ask me a lot about my "plans" for the "future." And I'm like, "Well, I'll probably have grilled cheese for dinner, unless I change my mind and want a ham sandwich instead." (For some reason, they don't find that as amusing as I do.)

I think not having a plan comes across as lazy to some people. I get that. There are people that have The Plan from career day in kindergarden, who dressed up like a doctor for Halloween every year, and worked their butts off with an eye single to the glory of doctor-dom. That's great. 

There are other people that at least kind of think they know where their life is heading. They can rattle off the facts of their current plan with no problem. Usually, they're still trying to decide what kind of engineer they want to be or if they want to teach middle or high school. 

And then there's me. I can tell you with 100% honesty that I have regressed plan-wise since kindergarden. Like, seriously, intensely regressed. 

When I was five-to-nine-ish, my plan was solid. I was going to marry a prince named Derek (like in The Swan Princess), thus becoming a princess myself, but never a queen because "queen" sounded old. Simple, stream-line, and impressive. This charmed adults. 

Sometime around my 10th birthday, I decided that it would be pretty sweet to be in the air force or be an astronaut  This was probably because I had a little brother who was finally old enough to have interests, and his interests were planes. My family spent a lot of time talking about, researching, and looking at fighter jets and such. Combine that with my intense love of all things Star Wars (Original Trilogy only.) and you got a dorky little kid who pretended that the playground swings were pilot seats. I'm pretty sure this phase replaced what would have been my horse phase. This both impressed and alarmed adults. 

Enter middle school guidance counselors. One day, in the middle of November, our excessively cheery carer counselor visited my 6th grade class. We were forced to take a quiz online that would supposedly suggest viable career options. My top three were dramatics teacher, ice skater, and ambassador. By 12, I was smart enough to know that money was important (and I didn't know how to ice skate) so I decided that ambassador was probably my best bet. By 8th grade, I had fallen in love with Spanish. I decided that I would become the US's ambassador to Spain. This impressed adults. 

In 10th grade, I realized I didn't really love Spanish as much as I thought I did, and decided I would be a biologist. Don't remember why. This also impressed adults.

By junior year, I had entered a stage of rebellion and discovered my love of writing. My parents had always told me that they would support my career choices, but tened to steer me away from the Education field. So naturally, I started telling people that I wanted to be an English teacher. I still think about being an English teacher, but only when I'm sitting by myself in dark rooms. I continued telling people my English teacher plan for the rest of high school and for some of college. This caused adults to fake a smile and say, "Good for you, dear."

 

These days, I cycle through plans hour by hour. I've watched enough Law & Order: SVU to think that being a police detective would be an interesting job. I've thought about learning Arabic and working for the State Department. My current major is psychology (I'll roll my eyes for you). Working for the FBI sounds like a sweet gig. So does writing a best-seller out of my dad's attic (sorry dad). 

So, yeah, I have no plan. Maybe I'll have one tomorrow, or in a month, or a year, or a decade. I don't know. Things will happen.

And Prince Harry is still single so I've still got time to be a princess. 

x,

    m

Facebook Questions!

Hello! I realize I've been MIA (yet again). I want assure everyone I'm okay. I've just been... dealing with some stuff. I think I'm on the upswing so yay!

Today, I asked Facebook to ask me questions so I could answer them because I was feeling lazy. Oh my gosh, Facebook did not disappoint  I got everything from Victoria's Secret to science-y stuff. I had a lor of fun answering these questions. Enjoy.

   x,
      m

15 Facebook Questions (in the order they were received)

1. How many times have you had to dispose of a body, and how have you done so in the past? I'm a strong advocate of acid, but high grade hydrochloric acid's super pricey... Any suggestions? 

(Dear FBI: I know I'm already on your watch-list, and I'm just joking... you can take your patriot acts and shov- :sniper bullet passes through brain:)

Wow. Getting weird right off the bat.

I have disposed of exactly one dead body in my 18 years of life and it was the body of my fish, Gowie. I was 5 and Gowie had a nice... water burial. In the toilet.

Assuming you mean larger bodies, Siri recommends hiding dead bodies in reservoirs  metal foundries, swamps, mines, or dumps. I recommend not killing people.

2. So Micaela, what have the past few months taught you about life? How has living in Utah affected your life and career goals? Have you met any non-weird boys yet?

The last few months have taught me to appreciate meat and vegetables, avoid unscented laundry detergent, stock up on toilet paper, actively try to see good in other people, and cry when I really need to. I know that's not terribly deep, but this is what seems significant to me so far.

Living in Utah has shown me that it's good to surround yourself with "good" people, but it's better to surround yourself with genuine people. Utah is filled with good people, as is any place, but sometimes it feels like genuine people are few and far between. It's also shown me that, as great as Utah is, I will not be living in Utah after I am done with college. Career-wise, I'm still in limbo.

Non-weird boys... Short answer: Yes. Long answer: I'm learning to embrace the awkward. (In other words, they're still weird, but I'm learning to fin it adorable.)

3. What color would the grass be is Tim Burton was in control of the universe?

Orange.

4. How can people like places or traveling when they have never been or done it before?

I really love this this question. I guess it's the same as liking a person you've never met or loving a song you've only ever heard your friend sing. Places have personalities, like people, and I suppose we connect with places based on our experiences. I, for example, really love Barcelona, Spain, even though I've never been there. I know I love it because I've seen it in pictures and movies and have fallen in love with what I know about the history and culture. Will I ever actually go there? I have no idea.

5. Are you engaged yet? When are you getting married? Am I invited to the wedding? What's your wedding song gonna be? Will you marry me?

No, I don't know, you may be invited to the reception, All About Us by He is We and Owl City, no.

6. How would you describe your perfect day?

Can we assume that I have unlimited resources and the ability to teleport? Cool.

I would wake up at 9:30 am to a gorgeous and nerdy man bringing me a Magleby's Fresh French Toast Platter. I would then enjoy breakfast in bed followed by a refreshing shower. A limo would pick me up and take me to a full service spa, where I would receive a massage, mani/pedi, and facial.

After that, I would teleport to Japan's best sushi restaurant and enjoy a sushi date with Andrew Garfield (who is in love with me). We would laugh and talk and be quite romantic, until I told him I needed to go. He would kiss me goodbye, wiping gentle tears from his face.

I would teleport to Sanibel Island, FL, where I would meet all of my best friends for an afternoon of relaxing in the sun. I would finish the day off with a sunset dinner on the beach with all of my favorite people (my dad, my best friends, my puppy, etc.). We would probably have Thai food, but I wouldn't really notice what I had to eat because I would be so happy to have all my favorite people with me.

Then, I would teleport back to my childhood home just in time to watch the fireflies come out. I'd go to bed at 11.

7. What do carrots remind you of?

Okay, so, in middle school, I rode the bus with my best friend, Laura. Sometimes we would get really cold waiting for the bus to show up, so I came up with this crazy idea that saying "I'm a carrot" over and over helped us keep warm. To this day, I swear to Gosh that it helps.

8. What's the meaning of life?

This video. Or 42. Pretty much, go read/watch The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

9. Who the eff is Hank?

BOOM.

Now go watch the Vlog Brothers.

10. Why can't people come up with thoughtful questions on the spot?

For the same reason that people can't come up with thoughtful answers on the spot.

11. If both hydrogen and oxygen fuel fires, then why doesn't water burn?

You pose an interesting question.

12. If a zombie bites a vampire, then that vampire bites a human, does the human become a zombie or a vampire...or a zompire?

Wow. Pressure. All my life, I've been preparing to answer this question.

First, we must establish whether or not vampires can contract disease (since zombie-ism is traditionally said to be transmitted in the form of a virus.) After consulting aioros (a highly reliable source I found on some random webpage), "Vampires are not succeptible to viral illness. If your vampire appears sick, its probable he/she just wants blood, attention, or to not be taken out for walks in broad daylight."

So the answer to your question, as posed, is the human would simply become a vampire. However, what would happen if a vampire bit a zombie who then bit a human? Interesting. I am inclined to think that the human would then, indeed, become a zompire. This is contingent on my hypothesis that zombies can contract vampirisism. I am still in the process of testing said hypothesis.

13. are you on winter track? I want to see you

I am assuming that you are asking if I'm on winter track at BYU-I. The answer is no, as I do not attend BYU-I. Sorry.  :(

14. Why am I only lesbian when Victoria Secret fashion shows are on?

Sexuality is a personal thing that you define between you, yourself and... you. Apparently, your brand of lesbianism only manifests when you're watching anorexic and freakishly tall women wearing itsy-bitsy panties and oversized angel wings. I mean, that's not my thing, but I guess it could appeal to someone...?

Then again, it is possible that you have a thing for starving angels with growth hormone disorders, in which case I urge you to get counseling.

15. Define existence. (Not trolling this time.)

Define "not trolling."