Confessions of an Unfriendly "Resting" Face

I like to think I'm a pretty upbeat person. I like to laugh and tell jokes and be around other people. But I, like many people throughout the world, am plagued with what I like to call an "unfriendly normal-face". By that I mean that when I'm not smiling, I look like I'm miserable. One time I heard someone call it a "resting face", so I'll go with that name, you know, to get out of my comfort zone and stuff.
I can't count the amount of times that I've been asked, "Are you doing okay? You look mad." And nothing can really make you mad like someone telling you that you look mad. You begin to question yourself like, "I didn't think I was mad, but if I look like it, maybe I am but just haven't realized it yet! Yeah! I'm mad now." And it's just a vicious unending cycle of unnecessary emotions and angry looking facial expressions.

So now that I've come to terms with the fact that I look peeved all the time,  I'm trying to be more aware of it in social situations. When I'm just standing alone, I begin to wonder if I look intimidating, and then try to make my face look welcoming. What does a "welcoming" face look like anyways? I feel like mine comes out looking like Amanda Bynes in the "chew like you have a secret" scene.

Does that sound welcoming and approachable to you? I didn't think so.

Another issue is that when you are angry, no one can even tell. When I'm trying to give someone the Pursed-Lips-of-Disdain, it really comes off as the Face-of-Indifference to those that know me.

I'm sure you're all thinking, "Wow Christina, what a difficult life you live." And my answer to that is, "Yes, Blog Reader, every day is a struggle." Instead of a people-attracting, angelic-looking resting face, now I have to rely solely on my winning personality and charm to make friends...
So, if you ever see me on the street and want to say hi, please go for it. I'm not mad, or tired, or annoyed, I'm just a victim of the "unfriendly resting face". 

Mosquitoes Are Horrible Party Guests- A Cautionary Tale

I like nature as much as the next guy. Okay, probably a little less than the next guy, because lately, Mother Nature's been unleashing some fury on my body in the form of mosquitoes. This. Is. No. Joke. Sitting here typing this, I can count at least 15 bites. A girl is just trying to spend some time in the great outdoors (her friend's backyard pool...) and this is how I get punished?
And I have yet to mention, that FIVE of these bites are ON. MY. FACE.

WHAT THE HECK.

Have you ever heard of anyone who has ever gotten bitten on their face? I haven't. Let alone five times. If this is what being the Chosen One feels like, I'll have to pass.


This is what I looked like before I was hit with the harsh plague of the mosquitos. Look how carefree Past Christina looked- she's doesn't now what Present Christina knows now. Notice the bricks behind me, proof that I did indeed spend some time outdoors.

I've always been told that mosquitoes are really attracted to me because I have sweet blood. But just about everything about me is sweet (insert cheesy smile with the *ding* tooth sparkle here), and this is starting to get a little crazy. I mean, excuse me for thinking that if I minded my own business, they would just let me lead a peaceful life. I wouldn't even mind if they hung around at the pool party, I couldn't really blame them because it was a lot of fun, but man, there's always that one party guest that has to take it too far, and last night it was the mosquitoes. Those vindictive, merciless, malicious, unrelenting, vengeful little blood-suckers. (Can you tell I used a thesaurus?)

Anyone who has had a mosquito bite knows the struggle. That itch is enough to make you go to desperate measures. I read online that putting a hot spoon over your bite will help to kill the protein that causes the itch. I'm in no position to be picky about my itch-soothing methods, so of course I tried it.

Now, a hot spoon seems like a very simple object, but how does one go about actually heating the spoon?
First, I tried to put it in the microwave. Apparently, you're not supposed to put metal spoons in there (who would have thought?!), so I moved onto Plan B- the kettle.

I put some water in the kettle and brought it to a boil, putting the spoon over the steam of the kettle. Now I understand why people say "Hindsight is 20/20" because looking back, it should've been obvious the spoon was going to be very, very hot...

I wouldn't say my burn is extremely severe, but it competes for my attention with the 15 mosquito bites quite nicely- it's really holding it's own. So here I am sitting at the computer with a cup of tea (how mature of me), because why let the boiled water go to waste, right?

The point of this story isn't to make you think I'm an idiot (I was on Honour Roll in high school, I promise), but to advise the public to think it through before engaging in done-in-your-garage-by-your-Uncle-Johnny home remedies.

5 Reasons Why I Would Be Unsuccessful on American Idol

Photo from commons.wikimedia.org.

1. I Can't Sing

As much as I ambush my parents and sister with my singing voice when we're in the car and they can't escape, I'm really not much of a singer. I've got the charisma for it, but the voice just isn't there. I would be doomed to become just a short clip in the montages of terrible contestants in one of the first episodes. The most I could hope for would be to be so bad that I win the hearts of the country, a la William Hung or the "Pants on the Ground" guy.

2. No Interesting Backstory

Even though I think I'm a pretty intriguing person, I don't have any heartwarming stories that would capture a nation or anything like that. I'm not the legal guardian of my great-aunt's six children after her tragic rickshaw accident. My singing has never raised anyone from the dead. I was never homeless and had to resort to living under a bridge with my dyslexic brother, where my singing voice was our only source of hope. There would be no need to film my hometown to set the tone for my audition, or play inspirational music like "Don't Stop Believin'" once I made it through the first round. Nothing for me and Ryan Seacrest to talk about. I'd most definitely be that one contestant you had no idea existed until halfway through the season.

3. I Don't Take Criticism Well

Granted, I know I can't sing, but that doesn't keep me from having an overwhelming sense of pride that would cause me to become a very unsavoury character at the first shred of criticism. I can see it now, after belting out a tear-inducing rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody", Simon would rub his chest and say "That was literally the most dreadful thing my ears have ever experienced. It's a no from me" (I hope you read that in his accent, aswell), to which I would take great offense and I would jump the judges table, Coke cups flying about, Mean Girls "This is how it would be settled in the animal world" style. The security team would have to come, it just wouldn't be a good look.

4. Being Offended by an Entire Country

If I was fortunate enough to make it to the live performances and the entire country got to vote, the second I was eliminated I would be so enraged at every citizen that I would have to immigrate somewhere else. Ryan Seacrest would say, "After the nationwide vote, Christina, you will no longer be continuing with us", the studio audience would clap, and I would probably spin around and scream "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? CURSES COME UPON ALL OF YOU." (Or something along those lines...not like I've thought about it or anything...) Ryan would hand me the mike to sing my final song, to which I would refuse, because, of course, if these idiots wanted me to sing another song they would have KEPT ME HERE. I would run off, never to be seen again, taking the mike with me, which would show up on eBay from the username scorned_idol.

5. Holding Up Numbers on my Fingers

This is probably the main reason I wouldn't be successful on American Idol. Ryan would join me onstage after I finished singing, and say something along the lines of, "To vote for Christina text 'vote' to 5713!" and in my frazzled state of mind, I would start holding up a five and a seven...then realize I don't have enough fingers...then realize that 57 is obviously not my number..then try to hold up a 1 and a 3 but end up holding them so they read 31 instead of 13...and then try to play that hand game Chopsticks with myself until I put up the right number. All the while the audience would be watching me uncomfortably and I'd probably be drenched in sweat. The next week I would likely go home and the situation explained in #4 would come to fruition.

So with all of these in mind, I don't think I'll be caught in that 10,000 people-deep Idol audition line any time soon!

Starbucks Divas

I feel like I've been in this situation way too many times. I'm in line at Starbucks, (speaking of being in line, are there any times when that place isn't chock full of people? For those of you who have never been, it's sort of what you would picture supermarkets looking like if the apocolypse was nearing) ready to order my simple, low-maintenance drink, a tall Coffee Frappuccino. That's it. No specifications, don't ask me questions, just the frap and I'll be on my merry way.

But I always seem to be in line behind that person. The one with the longest list of instructions and preferences that by the time they're done, sometimes their drink doesn't even resemble what they ordered in the first place.
"Oh yes, hello. I'd like to order a hot chocolate, extra hot. Made with skim milk, actually, do you have any goats milk? How about water buffalo milk? Super chocolately- do you have chocolate harvested from the plains of Ecuador? Do you add marshmallows? No? Not to worry, I brought my own just in case!" REALLY?

Photo by openclipart.org

Unacceptable. Save that crap for when I'm not behind you in line.

Don't get me wrong- those drinks are expensive, so obviously you should get something you will enjoy. But think about these poor baristas- boiling milk seven times over and straining 2% milk to satisfy Mariah Carey-like diva needs, making minimum wage so they can pay for school...or drugs... or whatever. 

And if they're not going to think about the baristas- then they should think about ME, and all the other straight-shooting frap drinkers of the world. We're busy people- we have places to go, people to see...(blogs to complain on?) and in the words of wise woman Sweet Brown, "ain't nobody got time for that".  



Welcome, New Friends!

Hey, Everyone!

I thought that before I got into any of my opinions on anything (and trust me, I have lots), I should probably introduce myself.
My name's Christina, and I'm pretty excited at the idea of being able to share my thoughts with you.
My friends would probably describe me as being pretty sarcastic, opinionated, and passionate, but don't let that scare you away just yet. I also like to think I'm outgoing, friendly and funny, and I think that some of my observations about the world will definitely entertain you.

Basically, the reason I'm starting this blog in the first place is because my family and friends tell me that I have a way with words, and that I always have something to say... in other words, that I talk a lot and they're tired of hearing me. So here I am.

There are so many times during the day when I think, "Man, I hate when ..." or "Isn't it funny that...". My goal is to have you read my observations and opinions and think, "Wow, she's so right...and beautiful...and smart...and funny." And if you don't agree with me, well, obviously you're mistaken. But that's okay, that's why you're on my blog in the first place- to find out what's what!

Thanks for taking the time to read this little website littered with my take on humour.

-Christina

P.S. My family thanks you for taking me off their hands for a few minutes a day, too.