OMG. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!

Well I passed another major milestone in becoming an adult this week. No I didn’t learn how to file taxes and, hell no, I did not stop leaving candles burning when I left the apartment. Instead I experienced my first authentic stress-induced heart attack. Talk about being a grown-up!

I have a night routine where I check my various blogs, respond to offensive comments, and then snuggle under my covers and watch the TV shows that I’m too embarrassed to watch in front of my roommate, Gena. Let’s just say you can find a lot of classic Grace Under Fire episodes on Youtube if you search long  enough — also helps if you can read Japanese subtitles.

So I was checking my very last blog when I noticed there was a huge.problem. Like the entire blog had crashed problem. I’ve been writing for a start-up company which means they don’t have a lot of money (I’m paid in shiny pennies and expired food stamps). I serve as their blog editor, computer technician, and cleaning lady.

I signed on for the computer technician role because, after living with my grandparents for six months, I got pretty cocky about my computer skills. Then again, their problems were usually of the “how do we turn on the computer and how do we make the font even bigger?” variety. I have no f-ing idea how to fix a crashed blog. Truth be told my web skills pretty much consist of Googling my own name and seeing what life-threatening disease I have on WedMd. Sidenote: who knew the common cold, pregnancy, and brain cancer had so many symptoms in common?

As I stared at my blank computer screen contemplating the possibility that I had just lost three month’s worth of blogging as well as possibly my job, my heart jumped out of my chest. I started Googling things like “how to fix a broken blog,” “is it a mistake to tell employers you’re qualified for a job that you can’t do,” and “does eating chocolate late at night really keep you awake?” Unsurprisingly, Google couldn’t help me with one.

Next I did the mature thing and sent out a midnight e-mail to my boss titled “bLoG eMeRgEnCy!?!” I explained the problem and blamed it on everyone else besides myself.  Then my boss hired an actual computer tech to fix the problem and as of right now I’m pretty sure he believed my excuse that the blog crashed because it was so offended by Tiger Woods’ behavior.

Regardless of that, I’m still telling people that I survived a heart attack. It’s a great way to get attention (read: people bringing me food in bed while I spend my days YouTubing), as well as a great excuse not to go to the gym.

Sigh. Growing up is hard.

As July creeps closer in my archaic paper day planner (no, I don’t have a Blackberry, okay!?), I am getting ever more excited for one glorious event: The Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest.  Nothing beats watching a ripped hottie (Japanese hottie, no less) scarfing dogs like he’s on death row.  I, unfortunately, can only handle a maximum of three hot dogs (and that was on a bet…which I lost) and have no six pack.

Apparently, there is another awesome summer competition that I might actually have a chance at: the National Texting Championships.  Tasks include texting while blindfolded (uh, sleep/drunk texting basically – done deal) and texting while maneuvering through a moving obstacle course (texting while walking – done deal).  The most awesome part about this competition is the winner gets a free phone AND $50,000!  If only I had known about this before!

I wonder how many other random contests there are out there…?  Because I may not be the best at eating hot dogs or texting, but I am good at some things.  I’m good at watching hours and hours of TV online without taking a break for basic human necessities (food? bah. bathroom? whatevs.) and combining weird things for meals (mashed potatoes and french toast for lunch, anyone?).  I’m also quite good at Googling terms that provide the grossest of gross images (it’s a gift).

Now, all I have to do is wait for the day when someone decides to make a competition for these activites and reward me (a bedpan? Cookbook? Therapy?) for being so awesome.

[Photo courtesy of The Daily Mail]

Decidedly not crazy.

Yet for some reason, whenever a particularly witty, charming, attractive male glides into the picture, my so-called sanity gets a little shaky. Suddenly, I find myself Googling his name at 2AM, skimming news briefs about what appears to be a highlight-filled yet short-lived high school soccer career. I’m not crazy, I rationalize; I simply want to be informed.

We’ve all been there. Or at least I hope we’ve all been there, because I really don’t want to be the only one who creeps like this. Guys I like just make me a little bit of a nutter. Fingers crossed these apply to you too.

The Google-Facebook-Twitter Stalk

It’s so easy. So tempting. And so very anonymous. He’ll never know that you scanned his public profile, comparing your music tastes and reveling in your mutual distaste for bumper stickers. He likes Death Cab and working out and has the same birthday as your Aunt Linda! It must be destiny. And although I’m not a big fan of this Twitter business, I’m pretty sure constant updates on your crush’s well-being in real time could be fairly intriguing. Calvin is brushing his teeth. He must be hygienic. Calvin is reading for Poli Sci. You always had a thing for nerds. Calvin basically wants to BE Flava Flav. Well… maybe he’ll give you a cute nickname. Like Hoops.

The I-Didn’t-Know-Your-Last-Class-Got-Out-At-3:50-I’m-Just-Cutting-Through-The-Arts-and-Science-Building-To-Get-To-The-Bookstore Move

Nothing is quite as Disney Channel Original Movie as the not-so-surprised run-in. Oh! I didn’t expect to see you here! I’m just meeting a friend. On a Wednesday. You know, during a passing period. Wearing skinny jeans and a clingy American Apparel V-neck when I usually just rough it in my Target-brand track shorts. But that’s so funny that I ran into you. It’s not like I’ve been intently studying the vending machine down the hall for the past seven minutes so I appear to have a purpose for loitering outside your lecture hall. Want a Gardetto?

The Drag-Half-Your-Friends-To-His-Frat/Party/Acapella Concert Tactic

After deciding that maybe telling your girls it’s a white trash themed event when it’s really semi-formal is a little too cutthroat (hey, whatever makes you look cute in comparison), you enlist a small posse to accompany you to his social setting of choice. Once there, you laugh loudly, take pictures, dance like a video extra, and essentially let that love interest know that you are hilarious, photogenic, and Sasha Fierce 2.0. It’s probably best that you rely on the look, look away eye contact. It’s a classic, and not THAT creepy. Right? Right. Bonus points for flirting with other guys, because that’s obviously a perfectly logical way to win him over.

Okay, so this crazy in love deal can’t be just me. What’s the most ridiculous, potentially embarrassing thing you’ve done in the name of crushing? “Check yes or no” notes? Personalized tee-shirts?

How to avoid the party foul.

Who is performing at Obama-rama (A.K.A. Inauaguration)?

Stilla creates new Barbie (inspired) makeup line.

The student debt dilemma.

Did you know you can rent your textbooks?!

Who wants some free Soft Lips?

We wish we were invited to the Golden Globe after-parties.

Awesome winter boots that don’t rhyme with “Chug”

Name jewelry: everyone loves it (especially us).

Kelly Clarkson’s new single is here!

Googling is bad for the planet!

Food to perk your mood.

What were you doing in 2001?I was a freshman with bangs, light wash denim and an aversion to beer (I preferred Smirnoff Ice). I had a desk top that was connected to the Ethernet by a long cord that went from under my desk, around the perimeter of my room, up the wall and into a jack under my roommate’s bed.

And I had no freaking clue what Google was.

A lot has changed since 2001 in my life (I got wireless and some dark wash jeans), and in the world. It is hard to realize how different everything is unless you have the ability to go back and look. And thanks to the boys at Google, you can. Those guys saved the entire Google index from ’01, which means you can travel back in time and Google like it’s 2001.

Isn’t that a Prince song?

Anyways, if you have a break between classes….or are completely bored during class, try Googling your name. Or the World Trade Center. Or Britney Spears.

It is sorta freaking me out.