Inside the dorm room

It’s a scary place sometimes. But I’ll share it with y’all anyway.

Brownie fail

I love to cook and bake.

And I’m good at it. Or so I tell myself (college girl’s gotta sleep at night somehow).

But recently (ok, by now it’s more like forever ago… thank you WordPress fail) I had my first experience in baking failure.

Failure. Such a terrible word.

Upon failing, I became quite distraught. (Also a terrible word).

But, I digress (fun word). I apologize (good word, not-so-good connotations).

Anyway… back to my baking. (Failure).

I got a hankering (fun word) to bake brownies on a Friday night several weeks ago.

I got out my mixing bowl, borrowed an egg from my friend (thank you, Lindy!), measured out the correct amounts of oil and water, dumped in the brownie mix and stirred.

Side note… did you know that you’re only supposed to stir the brownie mix 50 times? What the heck? I read that rule on the back of the brownie package (because I’m weird and I like reading the back of things like brownie packages and shampoo bottles, whatever, whatever…I’m digressing again).

Anyway, I mixed everything to the T, popped the brownies in the oven and set the timer to five minutes less than package directions. (I like my brownies gooey!)

Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled the brownies out of the oven and set them on my desk in my room to let them cool.

Forty minutes later, after I couldn’t stand smelling the delicious smell anymore without having the delicious taste in my mouth at the same time, I went to cut the brownies.

And they were hard. And flat.

Say whaaat?!

I was so confused. I never fail at baking brownies. Never.

I tried cutting a piece out of the what I thought was going to be a gooey middle, but no such luck. Hard and flat.

And so began my descent into a deep well of distraught-ness (not a real word), despair (sad word), distress (fairy tale word… damsel in distress anyone?), despondency (depressing word) and disheartenment (compound word!).

It wasn’t until a few hours later that I had an epiphany (super fun word) as to why my brownies failed.

Corn oil (bad, bad, bad word).

As I was mixing the brownies, I realized I didn’t have vegetable oil like the recipe called for. But I did have corn oil. So I just substituted one for the other. Surely they were basically the same thing right?

Wrong. Wrong (funny-looking word), wrong, WRONG.

This is what corn oil does to your brownies.

 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. To me, these pictures say ugly, failure, nasty, gross, Kristy-should-never-bake-brownies-again! At least not with corn oil.

I have learned my lesson. Corn oil is not vegetable oil. But in my defense, what is a poor college girl who has no money to spend on baking supplies supposed to do?

If any of you would like to donate to the successful-brownies-by-Kristy fund (hyphenated word), I would bake you brownies (with vegetable oil) and I would send you some! I promise they would look better than this.

Until I put them in the mail.

Much love,

kskristy

When it snows in Arkansas…

…the whole world goes crazy.

Or at least it seems to.

I woke up yesterday morning to this view outside my window.

Now in Kansas, this is no big deal.

Actually, I take that back. It is sort of a big deal. See that picture? There are no drifts. Where I come from, that’s rare. When it snows in Kansas, the wind always blows. A lot. So we always have snow drifts. Big ones.

But then we jump in our Chevy’s and bust right through them.

So it’s not a big deal after all.

Anyway… this meager dusting of snow was enough to cause an uproar with all my southern friends (and my Californian roommate).

Facebook was overrun with status updates begging for professors to cancel classes. The roads were surely impassable.

And I’m sure most Arkansans thought they were. There are no such things as snow plows down here.

But that’s where these guys came to the rescue.

Our maintenance crew works so hard. I appreciate that they stood out in the cold and the snow and shoveled that sand. You can’t see it from this angle, but the road they are on has a pretty significant slope to it. Without that sand, the snow probably would have been packed down in no time by professors driving to class and who knows what could have happened on that hill.

Thank you maintenance crew!

But… this is a university full of junk food-loving college kids and so rain or shine, snow or ice, the Coke man always makes his delivery.

I personally don’t like pop all that much, but I’m sure half of the students at this university are relieved to know they won’t have to make it through the weekend without their beloved carbonated sugar. Thank you Mr. Coke man.

After snapping these photos, I put on a pot of coffee and pulled out the box of leftover pizza from my fridge.

Welcome to the life of a college student.

Does anyone remember the promotion Domino’s Pizza had going a few months back where they encouraged people to send in their self-shot photos of the pizzas they ordered?

I’m seriously considering sending this one in.

If that doesn’t say delicious and nutritious, I don’t know what does.

Personally, I think the grease stains make the photo.

Please don’t judge me when I tell you I ate this whole thing.

Cold.

And I may or may not have enjoyed it.

But, of course I ate it like everybody should eat a piece of Domino’s pizza.

Crust first.

Ever since Domino’s remade their crust I have been on cloud nine.

I mean, who doesn’t love garlic and butter smeared all over a chunk of fatty baked dough?

Sign me up for that.

Or a psych ward.

Just kidding, sort of.

And did you know that Dominos now prints instructional sayings on their pizza boxes. They call them pizza proverbs.

That’s alliteration at it’s finest, people.

And that’s wisdom at it’s finest.

Or maybe not.

But while we are on the subject of wisdom and pizza and the finer things in life, let me just say that I also have a theory about coffee. I believe coffee tastes good all the time, but I think it tastes even better when it’s in a cute mug.

Look at this.

Now that looks fine, but wait until you see the entire mug.

Isn’t that happy?

My wonderful Californian roommate gave me that mug for Christmas and it has become one of my favorite mugs.

Thank you sweet Roommate!

Eventually I had to go to class yesterday. I even drove my car to Walmart and back without incident (thank you, Lord) and thoroughly enjoyed the snow even though I almost slipped and busted my face in the parking lot last night.

This afternoon the maintenance crew was hard at work again… clearing the parking lot.

Thank you again, maintenance crew!

The funny thins is that the forecast is calling for another round snow on Sunday.

Here we go again…

My weekend-long hot date

Let me preface this by saying that I realize some of you may become extremely jealous when you read about my weekend plans.

Disclaimer: kskristy is not responsible for the consequences of any acts of jealous rage that may or may not follow your reading of this post.

Now that that’s out of the way, let me tell you about my hot date I’m going to have this weekend.

First, I’m going to put on my little black dress and then I’ll go meet my man and we’ll be off to our extremely romantic date that may or may not involve dinner at Red Lobster, a blanket under the stars and a whole lotta chapstick.

Or not.

My “hot” date this weekend is actually with my futon and about 12 million books that haven’t left my university’s library since 1947.

How’s that for romance?

I’m serious. These books are dang good lookin’.

I mean, who wouldn’t want to snuggle up with one of those?

The truth of the matter is that I have to write a research paper this weekend that I have put off until the last minute (typical me) and now I can’t procrastinate any longer. I must get down to work.

After I post this blog.

And eat supper.

And watch a movie.

So don’t worry about having too much fun without me this weekend. You know I’ll be having a ball of my own.

Right here on my hot, sexy futon.

With all these books.

And my fuzzy Christmas blanket.

Heaven for my feet

I’m going to a horse show in Kansas this weekend, and I’m excited for several reasons.

A) I get to spend time with some great people I’ve been out of touch with lately.

B) Horses. Arenas. Dirt. Hay. ‘Nuff said.

C) I get to wear these babies all weekend long!

I’m not quite sure if I can put into words how much I love these boots.

I love them a lot a lot.

They’re like heaven for my feet.

And they’re pretty, too.

And they smell good. They’re still relatively new and they have some of that brand new leather boot smell left in ’em.

I have a system every time I pull them out of my closet: smell, faint, die, repeat.

It’s wonderful.

In celebration of my upcoming trip, I have been wearing these boots to my classes this morning.

And aside from the 3,142 funny looks I’ve gotten, it’s been great.

You can’t wear cowboy boots to class here. People think you’re weird.

But on the other hand, if you go to class without shoes, you’ll fit right in!

It’s a strange world out there…

On desks and personality

The desk. It’s the essential piece of furniture for any college student.

I’ve spent many all-nighters fighting off sleep at my desk. Writing papers, finishing projects, editing photos… none of which would get done if I chose to work, say, on my couch. The couch is comfy. The couch is warm. It beckons me to sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleeeee– zzzzz.

I may or may not have learned that lesson the hard way.

I may or may not have learned that lesson more than once.

So I work at my desk. My cold, hard, uninviting desk. But I try to make it a little more enticing by decorating with things that make me happy.

Welcome to what’s on Kristy’s desk, episode one.

It’s actually clean this week. Sort of.

There she is in all her cheap college furniture glory. In case you couldn’t tell, I like green. A lot. Just fyi.

This is my first ever reed diffuser. I’ve wanted one for a while and was holding out and holding out. I don’t know why. I guess I wanted to buck the trend. Maybe this isn’t the case in not-college world, but reed diffusers are all the rage here. Every female college student I know has a sleek, tall cylindrical reed diffuser sitting somewhere on a shelf in her room. I don’t like following trends. Even when the trends are cute and smell pretty.

I want my room to smell pretty.

I caved.

I saw this particular reed diffuser in the store and immediately fell in love with it. I adored the uniqueness of the rounded glass, the twisty, curly reeds and the bead and the ribbon. It was just so cute. So I bought it.

But there’s a problem.

See that red oil? Yeah, it smells like cinnamon. Not that I don’t like cinnamon, but I would rather not feel like I’m working in a Big Red factory. Thank you.

Lesson learned: do not become so distracted by pretty reeds that you forget to notice the scent of the oil that will permeate your entire dorm room for the next nine months of your life.

But look at that flower. It’s too perfect.

I’ve decided that I can live with the smell.

Chocolate kisses. Hello mi amor. I can’t live without you. I’m sorry you have to live in a plastic bowl that doesn’t match anything. You deserve better than that. But thanks for keeping me sane. Ok, bye.

My computer. My beautiful, wonderful MacBook Pro that I absolutely could not live without. I dropped it once. I almost died. Then I went and at a dark chocolate kiss and life was good again.

This makes me happy for two reasons. A) it’s bright and cheerful and it’s covered in happy faces. I feel like happiness is kind of a given emotional response. And B) it’s from my momma. She sends me happy cards while I’m away at college. It’s nice to get happy cards from home.

But my favorite thing on my desk is not Momma’s card (sorry Mom), or my computer and it is certainly not my Big Red cinnamon oil.

It’s this.

It’s a box. It’s teal. It has pretty flower looking things. I’m already in love.

But there’s more.

Can you guess what it is yet? I’ll give you a hint: the stickers are envelope seals.

(Ok, maybe that was more of a dead giveaway than a hint, but I love ya and it’s Wednesday so I thought I’d give your brain a break).

It’s a box of cards. Oh heaven help me, these are just precious and so my thing. I love the green. And the blue. And the flowers. And the dots.

Love, love, love.

Funny story about this box of cards, the label on them in the store said “STATIONARY.”

Some of you might be scratching your heads thinking, “Uh duh, Kristy. That’s what it is. Somebody hasn’t gotten enough sleep lately…”

Well, no, I haven’t slept enough. I’m in college. I don’t sleep. But… that doesn’t make the “STATIONARY” on my box of cards any less wrong.

“Stationary” means still, not moving, parked, stopped, motionless, whatever you want to say along those lines. I was buying “stationery.”

I was actually buying stationary stationery.

Ok, bad joke. I’m sorry. I told you that I don’t sleep enough.

Anyway, the point is that I’m a journalist and misused words bother me. I can’t help but notice them and once I do notice them, I can’t un-notice them. It’s a problem.

But the box and the cards were just so doggone cute, I decided to overlook the horrible grammatical error.

I make many sacrifices for the sake of aesthetics. It’s also a problem.

But at least I have a pretty desk.

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