Thank God for the Second Amendment.

I probably should be in bed right now, as I have a three-and-a-half hour trek to make tomorrow, but tonight made me think of a story that I have yet to share on this blog. And it does indeed involve Jacy (The other half of this blog. You probably don't know her because she never, ever writes on here. I've given up hope.)

Anyway, a few drinks with friends tonight (whose names will remain anon to protect the identity of my friends) and some storytelling made me think of my own story from long ago.

Picture it: Somewhere between Chambers and Ewing, Nebraska. 2003. Or was it 2004? Anyway, picture a wintery evening at the Schwager household. No parents. Just three daughters trying to survive in the blistery winter evening. Or was it spring? I really don't know. I'm an English major, so I'm taught to make shit up. (Some like to call it fiction.) However, this story really did happen. Parts of it anyway.

My ma and pa had left the ranch for a few days on a trip to Vegas, and had put my older sister, Gina, in charge of taking care of me and Jacy. If you really don't know anything about the dynamics of my family, just know this: We are the epitome of birth order. I'm the peace keeper, while Jacy and Gina fight all of the time. Well, they don't really fight too much anymore because they've both become more mature. ha. ha.

One particular night, while my parents were still away, Gina and Jacy lost it. I couldn't even tell you what the fight was even about. They were probably fighting over something stupid like who won Monopoly. For real. They're like that. But anywho, that's not the point. The point is that they frickin' lost it.

The fight began with words - lots of cunning spit-fire back and forth, back and forth. Gina and Jacy are the queens of the "last word." They could go on for hours just shouting something like"Pickles" as long as "Pickles" was the last word. The verbal fight continued for a while. I tried to distract them, but it was no use.

Eventually the verbal war turned into a full-out brawl. I know I said Gina and Jacy were good with words, but they may be much better with fists. They started hitting each other with little things first...dad's backscratcher...mom's flyswatter... you know, the norm. I'd interject with a, "For the sake of this family, please stop making fools out of yourselves," or, "Hey, I'll get you all a bowl of ice cream if you stop right now." Food always worked for me, but my offers were no use.

It wasn't until the two started picking up the kitchen chairs WWE-style that I came unglued. I honestly couldn't take the madness anymore, so I did what any normal and sane 15-year-old would do....

I grabbed Dad's rifle and aimed it at them. Then I probably said something along the lines of, "You best shut the f*ck up, mutha f*ckers or I will bust a cap in your @$$." (Chambers is full of gansters.)

Mind you, I didn't really have any intentions to shoot, but I guess the wild look in my eye proved differently. The two ya-hoos stopped fighting immediately and listened to every word that fell from my lips. Although Gina and Jacy still bicker quite a bit, I have never, ever seen them act so stupid again. To this day, I bet images of Dad's rifle still dance in their heads when they even think about fighting.

See, guns really don't kill people. They just make them shut the hell up.

Bittersweet Symphony

I'm not really one for being sad or carrying on or anything like that. I've always welcomed change and gone with the flow. But I'm having a bit of a bittersweet moment tonight.

As the final seconds of the game clock ticked down during tonight's Nebraska game, I became a bit overwhelmed and a bit misty-eyed. For five years, I had been apart of something so great, so amazing, something completely unbelievable. Most of the time I shrug my job off, complaining of the pay or the hours I work. I never, ever, got caught up in the hype of working for Nebraska athletics. I wanted to play it cool, act like running into athletes everyday was normal.

But believe me, it is not normal. No matter how many times I run into Tom Osborne or Ndamukong Suh, I still lose my breath. Working for Nebraska athletics will forever be one of my most cherished moments.

Now my time at Media Relations is coming to a close. I celebrated my own "Senior Day" at the Nebraska-Kansas State football game tonight. Never again will I step foot in that press box as a student worker. People keep telling me it's just a job, that I will get over it. But I don't know how I'll possibly get over the fact that I got to greet Mr. Tom Osborne every other day in my cubicle. Five years of my life has been devoted to the Nebraska Athletic Department and it will be so hard to turn my back on something so wonderful.

Although I have no idea where my next path may lead or even if I'll stay working in athletics, one thing is for certain: There truly is no place quite like Nebraska.

Just jiggle it...

I really like Jacy being at the College of Hair Design. Wanna know why? Because her family members get a College of Hair Design discount! HECK YEAH! This discount has really helped me find my inner fake broad. And it all started off with a fake bake - the healthy way - with a spray tan!

Last week, I went to the CHD asthetics school to get a spray tan per Jacy's suggestion. The tanning experience was unlike any other. I was forced to strip down into bathing suit bottoms, where I was then instructed to lie belly-up on a crazy "Hostel"-like bed. (It's actually some sort of fancy shower than manipulates the body's muscles and fat tissues, but it looked like a killing machine...eek!) Then, a CHD student came in and rubbed me down with all sorts of exfoiliators before spray tanning me. Everything went alright in the spray tan, well minus the fact I had to wear disposable underwear! Yeah, awkward considering they resembled a g-string. After the tan I had to air dry in front of a fan for 20 minutes. My spray tan lady had just left the room and I was standing almost naked in front of a fan and a mirror with my arms up to dry the tan. In such a position, I noticed the lovely fat deposits that hung from my arms. So what does any normal person, standing spread-eagle in front of a mirror do? Jiggle their arm fat of course! About five swings into my arm-fat jiggling, I looked up to find that my spray tan technician was staring straight at me... with a horrified look on her face. Then, instead of pretending like she didn't see anything, she had the audacity to ask me if everything was okay. I just gave a little grin and said it was weird how the spray tan clung to every hair on my body.

Needless to say, I went in again yesterday for another spray tan and I requested another lady to do my tan. Things got a little too personal between me and the first lady...

Ya'll should check this out...

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The Box Stuffers

Let's be honest here. I'm not the most athletic person in the world. I'm also not the most unathletic, but outside of volleyball and basketball I really suck ass at sports. Sometimes I can play slowpitch softball, but that's a rarity. Naturally, in my fifth year of college (when my bones are brittle from old age) I decided to partake in a sport that I had never even heard of before.

It is called broomball.

And it is very dangerous for assholes like me who think I can walk and chew gum at the same time. It's basically like hockey only with smaller sticks and tennis shoes instead of skates. Sadly, I think I'd be more coordinated at hockey.

I tried broomball for the first time last night... and it was a complete disaster. You know that part in Bambi when Bambi is first born and he really can't get his footing under him? Yeah, that's me the entire time I try to walk on the ice. Yesterday I got a little cocky when I first started out and tried jogging on the ice. Bad decision. Next thing I knew I'm laying ass down on the ice with a throbbing elbow. After peeling myself up off the ice, I tried taking it a little easier when I "ran" down the rink. But then I just looked like a bloody fool prancing around like that.

Again, I tried to pick up the pace a little bit and I was doing pretty well mind you, but out of nowhere some asshole from the other team lost his footing and came barreling toward me. That time I nearly saw stars as my knee bashed into the ice. OUCHHHH. Our team (The Box Stuffers) tied last night's unofficial match 1-1. And while my team worked on game plans for today, I was just out purchasing some elbow pads and knee pads to ensure I didn't break any bones tonight.

Tonight's match went a little better. Despite having a knee swollen up twice as much as it should be, a still-throbbing elbow, and a bruised ego, I gave broomball another try tonight. My efforts weren't much better...granted I could kind of put the ball where I wanted it tonight and I only fell ONCE, but I'm still rather terrible. It's very nice of my teammates to put up with me though. They actually act like I'm apart of the team, which is nice. I know when I'm encountering an awful player, I just ignore them and act like they don't exist on my team (poor sport, but whatever). The Box Stuffers came out tonight and won, like, 9-0. Thank God my teammates can cover up my terrible mistakes.

We only have two games left until playoffs... maybe I'll continue to get better. Or maybe I'll just be on the sidelines in case someone needs a breather. :(

Oh Apartment Living...

Jacy and I never should have opted to live together. We are the two messiest human beings in the entire world. I love how I'm always bagging on her for being a slob, but in all reality, I'm a complete Messy Jessie...I just have a bigger closet to hide my mess in. But two weeks ago I hit an all-time high in my messy/lazy-ass nature.

Jacy and I were taking a break from our normal homework routines to do our nails. We used numerous cotton swabs and Kleenexes (filled with nail polish remover) to get our nails to look perfect. Our nails looked damn good, but when we were all finished the apartment smelled like a little Asian nail parlor. I tried stuffing the cotton swabs/Kleenexes to the bottom of my trash can, but the smell permeated throughout the entire apartment.

It was raining cats and dogs out, so I didn't really want to run the trash outside. But the apartment smelled soooo bad. Usually, I would just throw the trash out on the balcony, but Deer Park has strict rules prohibiting apartment dwellers to put trash on the balcony. So...I did what any genius would do. I threw the mass of cotton swabs/Kleenexes down the toilet.

Poor frickin' choice. It seemed to all go down the first time. But then I used the bathroom later that evening and my toilet was most certainly clogged. I didn't know what the heck to do! Jacy and I didn't own a plunger! So I ran down to the local Walgreens and bought a $3.99 plunger and then googled how to plunge a toilet. (This is how truly clueless I am.) NOTHING WORKED!

By this time, I was way too scared/embarrassed to call the Deer Park offices for help. I really didn't want them snaking the toilet or anything like that for fear they would find my mass of fingernail polish supplies. So, I again did what any normal genius would do - I just let the toilet be. For two weeks.

After using Jacy's toilet for two weeks, I finally got up the gumption to go into the Deer Park offices and ask for assitance. I mean, clogged toilets are a pretty common thing, right? But the first thing my landlord asked me was how did I clog the toilet. Frickin' awkward question, right? Most people clog toilets by, well, pooping, right? So who in their right mind would ask that awkward question!? I just ignored the question and acted like I had NO IDEA what happened... But I nonchalantly said that my trashcan sat right by my toilet, so something definitely could have made its way into my toilet...

Needless to say, she finally sent someone over to unclog the toilet...And she gave me a sweet-ass plunger! Now when I'm feeling extremely lazy I can stick anything down the toilet and get it unclogged safely.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider...

...freaked the Schwager sisters out.

I've lived in Claremont Park Apartments. I know what a spider is. In fact, spiders were kind of like my fourth roommate at Claremont. But since moving into Deer Park Apartments, I have yet to see one single spider... until last night. That's when all hell broke lose.

Jacy and I were getting ready for bed last night and it is frickin' cold in our apartment. So unless A) it warms up (not likely) or B) we turn on our heater, Jacy and I have been sleeping in my bed to huddle together for warmth. Well, evidently a spider friend thought he was invited to our slumber party too, because there he was lingering in the shadows of the ceiling. He was inconvienently and quite strategically positioned right where the ceiling and the wall connect, so killing him seemed next to impossible.

After much thought, I told Jacy I didn't really want to kill the spider because I didn't really want it to send out sonar to its spider buddies and I didn't really want its spider buddies attacking us in the middle of the night. (I only said this because I knew I didn't have enough coordination or patience to stand on a stool and coax the spider out of its hiding place). Jacy said, "SCREW THAT. I'll get a fly swatter."

Naturally, she hands me the fly swatter and makes me kill the booger. I tried to convince it to scurry down the wall so I could get a good swing at him, but he wasn't having any of that. Instead, he b-lined for the ceiling and started heading toward me. So, I held the fly swatter upside down and swung with all my might. Unfortunately, my might wasn't good enough, because I saw it crawl from underneath my fly swatter and descend to the ground. When I say descend, I think it actually created a web and gracefully glided to the ground. It was like something out of Charlotte's web.

That's when Jacy and I both throw a total conniption. Running around, skipping, hopping, shivering, jittering, shaking. What have you. Jacy made it very clear she was not sleeping in my bedroom last night and instead, we would sleep in her bedroom. So, I hopped up on my bed and gathered our cell phones and lept from my bed to the hallway (because the spider was somewhere in between my bed and the hallway) Ask me how I did that and I'll tell you I had no idea. Jacy did applaud me for my quite athletic move though. Said it was the quickest she'd ever seen me jump/run.

Theennn Jacy, the little pervert, made me strip off all my clothes and throw them in the living room because she thought maybe our spider friend clung to me and was going to find his way into her bed. She also made me shake out my hair since it may have also embedded itself into my head I guess. I was an ass though and shook my hair out alll over her bed. :D

We never did find our spider friend. I suppose we'll be on the lookout again tonight.