Reasons You're a Nerd

Google defines nerd as "A foolish or contemptible person who lacks social skills or is boringly studious," and in the same breath, "an intelligent, single-minded expert in a particular technical discipline or profession." Now, one of those sounds pretty attractive to the general public. You can guess which one.

I'm a nerd. I definitely lack social skills, and I search "define [word]" at least once an hour every hour. But I have had a problem with the word and the way people use it, because being a nerd is explicitly different from being a dork or a geek. Or a hipster. The problem I have is with the second definition up there. That, my dear readers, is the clear definition of a geek, not a nerd. A geek, if you must know, is a person that is interested, perhaps even obsessed with one particular hobby or 'technical discipline.' A geek is a high school trombone player that practices constantly because he loves it.

And a nerd is not "one who wears thick, black-rimmed glasses." A nerd is not cool. Nerd does not equal cool. At least not in the dictionary definition of the two words.

The point of this post is to discuss how I can't stand certain misuse of words, like "jealousy" instead of "envy." Jealousy is the fear of losing someone to another that you think is better than you. Envy is the feeling of wanting what another has. But "I'm so jealous" is so much easier to say than "I'm so envious." Doesn't quite roll off the tongue.

Anyway, back to nerdiness. Thanks to hipsters and their opposite-equals (fashion-following preps/jocks), being a nerd has become strangely cool. Revenge of the Nerds is no longer a study in weird, but something that almost everyone can relate to. When did being weird and nerdy become everybody's dream? It seems to be that being intelligent no longer exists. Being a nerd is now cool because being intelligent equals being a nerd now to the mainstream. Because you aren't a moron, you are now a nerd. You read books? Nerd. You don't party, but instead write articles? Nerd. You don't constantly have a beer bong shoved down your throat? Fuck, man, I must be a nerd.

Ugh, I have no points left to make. I'm going to go play Empire Earth. I'm done being a nerd now.

Une Exhibition Sexuelle

You probably won't finish this article if you are against women going topless in public. But I don't care. As long as folks pass religious laws, nobody is going to be able to make decisions for themselves on how they should be able to live their own lives. Just because you think something is sinful doesn't mean it is harmful to others. And passing laws against things like exhibitionism and drinking and smoking certain things is only going to make people more apt to do them out of rebellion.

There are only three states that have explicitly made going topless illegal for women, citing it as lewd and unlawful: Indiana, Tennessee, and Utah. But in many states, you may still be arrested for 'disorderly conduct' just for taking your fucking shirt off. Cool. So I was born without clothes, but Jesus hates seeing tits touched by sunlight. Makes sense.

Tits, whether you like them or not, are just part of a woman's anatomy, and in many cases, part of a man's anatomy as well. Men, fat or skinny, are allowed to run on public streets without shirts and in tight, bulge-hugging shorts, boobs bouncing in the sun, and nobody thinks twice. Sure, they may laugh at the tit-man, but he is not a study in lewdness. He's just a fat running guy. But what's the difference? Women use their breasts to feed babies? God forbid anybody see that.

It's weird how religious folks think that God constructed these beings but expects them to cover up his hard work. If it is a sin to show one's breasts in public, would God have created them? Wouldn't it be much more likely that the Devil created tits to lure men to him? Pretty easy job, as it would turn out.

By making boobs taboo, you have created a market for those topless snapshots that you consider so wrong. So much over-sexualization simply because it is something you can't see every day.

Now, don't be stupid and start believing that it was the Devil that created tits and clits. I just want you to understand that the female figure is beautiful, not sinful. And you should be working to make being topless legal instead of undermining your own equality by going all religious on us, ladies. Believe what you want, but it just doesn't make any sense to be a Christian and hate nudity.

Nudity is awesome. All-over tans and airing out parts that never get to be aired out. Your privates are stuck in half-dirty underwear all day long and you can't tell me it wouldn't be fantastic to walk outside without your heart beating like fucking crazy because you're streaking. Sweaty underwear isn't the only thing that makes nudity feel good. You are completely yourself, without some brand or style defining you.

What keeps you from enjoying nudity? The law. If there were no laws against public nudity, it would not be as big a deal. Yes, there are perverts. They can literally sexualize anything. But if people were desensitized to tits, it wouldn't foster pent-up rage about not being able to see tits. One less problem to worry about. Perverts are everywhere and you can't avoid them sometimes, but they don't attack women because they can see more skin. They'll target anyone because they are perverts, not because they see more skin. Perverts like the hunt, and aren't triggered simply by skin. There is more to it than that.

Boobs. Tits. Knockers. Breasts. Tits tits tits.

If you are still offended, you didn't understand my article. Visit/sign the petition at gotopless.org. Please stop being offended by tits, and don't start making fat dudes wear bras. Just get over yourselves already. Thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving and Such

Meanwhile, at TH Evan's, we're thankful for dick upstairs neighbors who stomp down the stairs and sound dumb, and the neighbors to our right who have a fucking nightmare child and slam lots of doors. Thanks for making us feel at home.

It's not bad living here, though. It's actually pretty great, save for those two annoyances. Quiet and pleasant and affordable and we can do what we want all the time. Pretty soon we'll do another podcast episode, but we've been busy playing computer games until I pass out, so give us a break.

Today is Thanksgiving, so no doubt you are reading this after hours, when things finally settle down and football game has been won. It's seventy degrees here and we're going to make cheeseburgers with real ground-up beef. No turkey, no stuffing, no holidays and no worries. After the weekend, I'm going to go to the gym right next to WalMart and inquire about my application, but we really aren't strapped for cash right now.

Thanksgiving has always been a weird time for me. I have no qualms about getting together with my family, but what are we really celebrating? Those jerk pilgrims who stole land and whose kids lied about it so they could eat a giant, hormonal turkey. Yum. And to top it all off, anybody in the family you're angry at is going to be there, including the assholes in the family who think they are better than everybody else and love to prove it and make people cry. That wasn't at my family's gathering, but at an ex's. So much fun. His sister cried and got drunk and the rest of the family got drunk and played annoying card games all night and drank Bud Light Lime. Gross.

I endured it, but help me if I didn't lie about needing to go home so I didn't have to come back the next morning. We luckily broke up before I could come to the Christmas party. Point is, holy shit, why? There is nothing less fun than going to a shitty family gathering where they have to warn you about a certain relative so you don't step on their toes later.

Lucky for me Brandon's family is awesome, but unlucky for anybody with a significant other whose family is shitty. You feel like a terrible person when you come back after an arduous meal with people you have no connection to. Aren't the holidays supposed to be cool, or does that die when Santa Claus dies?  Why do we keep up appearances when almost everybody hates the holidays? Or at least pretend Santa Claus exists.

Looks like the only way to enjoy the holidays is to be eight years old.

This is where we'll be spending the holidays. Hanging out with a microwave box we use as furniture, a console television, and plenty of computer games. And trying to tolerate the dicks upstairs.

Fancy Livin'

I wanted to save this next article for tomorrow, but we've got time to kill in the library, so I guess here we go! Yesterday, after a very extensive one-apartment complex scouring of the city, we got approved for a cheap as fuck one-bedroom place in Fayetteville, AR. Like the last place I expected to live, but it's great here so far. Tomorrow the apartment will be ready, so we're just wasting the day until we can start buying stuff to put in it.

No more van living after tomorrow, at least, not really for a full year. We don't have an endless supply of cash, so this is necessary or we will go broke and really be homeless. We already bought a coffee maker, but that's because it was three dollars and it could fit inside the van. I just applied to a gym for a part time job, only because I can leave the apartment and I'm already halfway to the building. It would be fantastic.

One of the many perks of the location is its proximity to everything we need, like a WalMart Neighborhood Market, a Walgreens, food stuffs, and a liquor store bigger than the Walgreens. I want to get a bonzai tree and try to keep it alive the whole year. And there's the UARK Bowl where they have open mic nights for the weirdos.

I guess after this, the blog posts won't be about me as much, but I'm pretty busy lately, so I'm trying to compensate I suppose.

Til the apartment living next time

Alexis

But...You Said Memphis

Some guy is pacing up and down the halls of this library and talking loudly on his phone. He is wearing dumb blue running clothes and most-likely fake thick-rimmed glasses, as hipsters are want to do. To you, Mr. Inconsiderate Dick: you're not important enough for anyone to even bother stopping you. They think, oh, he'll go away soon. Take my anonymous internet letter and shove it, you thick-necked, couldn't-be-a-jock-so-you-became-a-hipster jerk!

I'm going to go ahead and post that on the Craigslist Missed Connections here in Fayetteville, AR, where we arrived last night at two in the morning after a snap fuck-Memphis decision to leave.

That's right, Arkansas.

That state nobody thinks about ever. The crotch of the dude on the map made out of Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, and Louisiana. The state filled with obnoxious hills and the dumping ground for the Clintons.

We have more of a basis coming here, at least, than when we decided on Memphis. It's an artsy, college town. Yeah, Memphis has a university, too. Well, its main fucking factory just died (Hostess) and it's dirtier than Elvis's taint, so you can imagine our disdain after three days of camping out and apartment-searching. Last night, after some library time, Brandon pointed out that we should keep our options open for other places, and that's all it took.

Honestly, I probably wouldn't have needed another town name to travel to at that point. I was getting kind of depressed about living in a city like that, where everyone is either racist or thinks that you are racist, so they give you the eye when you walk into a library and are the only white people in the place. It doesn't bother you, but everybody is waiting for you to leave so they can confirm their suspicions that you left because you were uncomfortable. When Brandon said Fayetteville, I looked at it for all of three minutes before I was convinced that we should go there.

So, here we are. Open mic nights still abound, but clean streets, clean air, and still plenty of cheap apartments everywhere. The land of the WalMart and the home of the brave hill-walkers. We can probably even pass for college students while we're here, if it comes to it. For now, it's onto the apartment search, which even though we have to start over, feels more promising than the previous search.

Food and More Apartment Junk

I'm having better luck with apartment searching today, but it's still hard to know which places are lying. At least now that we've been all throughout the city, up and down Poplar and down side streets, I know the roads enough to tell which apartment buildings are going to be bad living. They always manage to hire a top-notch photographer for the main pictures, but if the photos of the inside apartments are done at bad angles, you know they're trying to hide something.

Last night, we got to walk around on Beale Street, passing by the huge crowd of dummies waiting for the Blue Man Group in the cold. We found cheap parking: another perk of a laid-back city, and we got to sit down in a restaurant without a wait after the cook talked to us outside about what we should eat. We had chicken and waffles for the first time and walked down the 'mall' strip where a black feral kitty rubbed its nose on my finger for a second before hissing at me. Everybody is fairly nice here. A little too nice, but oh well. Can't complain.

Some broke guy walked with us on Beale for a minute and talked in some weird dialect, using words like 'finna' and 'sat' (for Saturday), and when he realized we were broke and moving here from Indiana, he asked us for spare change and went on his merry way. It seemed like everyone we walked by had something to say about one of the restaurants, as if they all had pimps stationed at intersections to attract people to eat at their place.

Oh, we ate at Miss Polly's Soul City Cafe. The food was tasty, but holy shit, was it filling. We only ate one meal yesterday. That's all we can really manage down here.

The sun sets here at an ungodly early time. It's five o'clock here, and already, I can't see the sun behind the horizon. We have been confused about what to do because of it. After the library closes, all we have to do is walk around in the dark and go back to West Memphis to hang out in the WalMart parking lot until we get sleepy. When we get a place, we'll be able to leave the van in the apartment lot and go to music venues, but for now, we have no place to park to do so. Music supposedly plays in Midtown every night. There's some bluegrass band I want to see coming soon, but who knows where we'll be next week. We might not spend Thanksgiving in a building! Oh, no! Not [holiday]!

Oh, and side note, we don't have TV. Is there a war going on or something? I thought I heard something about it, but it was in between top news stories about the newly single Justin Bieber.

Well, hopefully next time I write something, it'll be in an apartment. Didn't I write that last time? Hmm. I guess I'll listen to Switchfoot's Only Hope and keep on hoping, you guys. Have a number one a-okay rest of the day!

Apartments in Memphis

We're hanging out in Memphis but still haven't found a particular apartment we could really love. At least, for the price. Midtown is where we are looking, but when we've told people we just up and moved here, the main response was, "To Memphis?" I guess it's surprising. But we've come to the conclusion that it'll be good even if we don't like it, simply because being in a place we hate will help facilitate creativity.

Our main difficulty now will be creating jobs for ourselves to show that we totally haven't been bumming around the country for four months. Then, we have to get real jobs. But having a job will be difficult without having an apartment to shower in and get ready beforehand. Most apartment places don't like for you to not have a job when you move in, though. Complications galore.

We spent last night in West Memphis, AK. The truck stop of America. Beautiful place for nothing to happen, complete with waving light-up Santa for the holidays. Their claim to fame was that Elvis stopped by once on his way back to real Memphis.

There are a lot of nice people here, so that's cool, at least. The biggest problem is that the roads are shitty. The shittiest of all shitty roads, I think. Other problems include confusing diagonal roads, two city loops, and questionable streets. And Kroger made Memphis its fucking bitch. There is a Kroger on every goddamn street corner. Good things include a big music scene and pictures of Elvis everywhere. Lots of small businesses as well, with their claim to fame being that Elvis stopped by on his way back to Graceland.

I wonder if there is a restaurant that claims that its chili dog was the last one Elvis--well, you get it.

Hopefully the next time I write, I have better news, but for now, we'll be staying in a WalMart parking lot for another night. A good Southern day to you, ma'am/sir.

Mondays

Ahh, Mondays. Nothing makes sense on Mondays. You are disoriented and tired and unhappy about work or school or whatever. Guess what? It's Saturday. Only one day left of the precious weekend. You got lucky this weekend, it being Veteran's Day and all, but normally, you 9 to 5-ers are not so lucky. Having to get up all early, stumble to your coffee maker, debate on your acting skills so you can call in sick again, but decide against it because you have to pay the cable bill. Sounds like the way to go about life?

I don't like the concept of Mondays. I don't work or anything, but it's not even that that gets me. Why spend all weekend fucking around and torture yourself by getting up and doing boring things the next morning? Life is all about enjoying yourself, I think, and if you spend every Monday unhappy you're not living life correctly. You give yourself two days out of the whole week to enjoy yourself. Why not cut down on things you need to buy, do a part-time thing, and chill a lot more?

But that's just my opinion, man. Like I also think that we should let Southern California become it's own country. If you haven't been there, don't go. It's a crazy backwards mirror world with psycho entitled jackasses and no substance. I would become dictator and fix it up. Land of cancer scares.

I actually don't have a point to this post. I mostly wanted to remind you about Monday. Stop caring about it, man.

In other news, let's do some updates on me. This is a personal blog, you know. I'm just chillin' like a villain with my cock out rolling on the floor laughing, but while I'm not doing that, I'm preparing for an AOE game or Doom, whichever one we're going to play here. Not sure yet. I'm not a gamer girl, but I play games. Mostly I like to build shit but I'll play if everybody else is. I'm like one of those kids that smoke pot when everyone else is high so they have something to do. In other words, I couldn't care less, but whatever. Go with the flow, bro.

I'm running out of opinions to care about for more than two paragraphs. Let's see, what else do I care about? Stop making Happy Bunny quotes. Monster High is teaching little girls to dress like whores. Pink is the color of Hell. It is used to sell t-shirts to dumb-ass guys who think that they look cool when they wear something that says, "This is your girlfriend's shirt." It's dumb. Are you ten? Did you get your first boner yesterday? Since when do girls wear giant pink t-shirts that say, "This is your girlfriend's shirt"? Kind of silly, if you ask me. And if it didn't say that to begin with, how rude to write on a shirt just to be an abrasive dick.

Abrasive dicks are a fucking dime a dozen now. When did it become a trend to say "Come at me, bro," and high-five about it? Dudes travel in packs and expect girls to also do that and then they're supposed to just all click and fuck later that night. Good plan, dumb-asses. What's sad is that sometimes it actually works. Good for you if it works, but don't complain when she turns out to be an annoying bore. You probably are, too.

Okay, well, enough ranting. See ya, internet users!

Van Living/Memphis

For anyone who doesn't know or refused to refer to the FromTheVan link on either side of this blog, you should know that I've been living in a van (by choice) for the past four months and traveling the country with Brandon. He's a cool guy who I like and enjoy his company. We decided to just drop everything here in small-town Indiana after saving some money to travel the USA in a white mini-van we bought for cheap and tricked out.

It took some planning and saving, but we both did our part and took off in June of 2012 for Key West, FL. We ended up going across the country to the Pacific coast, up to Canada, through Montana and Wyoming down to Colorado, and then finally, back to Indiana to visit family. That's where we are currently, but only for a couple more days.

We're going to live in Memphis, TN, for an indefinite period of time while we gather up more money to burn on traveling again. Hopefully on our next trip we can do the east coast, which is the only part we have yet to travel to. There, we'll continue the podcast but do plenty of other stuff to keep ourselves from going insane. Brandon and I have a similar problem. We can't be bothered to stay in one place for very long. We've only been together for nine-ish months, but the entire time we've known each other well enough, we've been driving aimlessly together. First, it was across Indiana, but you can see how that changed.

We chose Memphis not for a specific reason like people have been asking, but for a few reasons, the most important of which being because we needed to choose a definite location. After a week of "I don't know; where do you want to live?" we finally decided to just go with the blues-centric southern city. It was either that or Lexington, KY.

Memphis also seems to have more comedy places than Indianapolis. I want to try out my shitty skills and do open mics, and Brandon might as well. He wants to also do some parody country music reminiscent of Mojo Nixon, which will be interesting to hear. It would have been nicer to live in Oregon or Colorado, but currently it would be too much of a hassle. Maybe some day.

I've lived in Indiana for so long I have started to develop the speech impediment that many south of Indianapolis seem to have. Everyone generalizes words instead of using the correct ones. "Car" for "van," "truck," "SUV," or anything remotely close to a four-wheeled vehicle. It's atrocious. No wonder it's considered a fly-over zone. I say this as if I've lived anywhere else, but actually, my family has lived here since the 1800s. I'm committing a crime by leaving, in a sense.

If you are unaware of Indiana, you should know that it should be referred to as the Land of Indifference. Nowhere in the whole country have I met so many people that just don't give a shit. We could vote, but who cares? We could go out for a run, but oh, well. We could rally for better schooling, but why? It's not that important, I guess. That may be why there is just nothing to do. I'm surprised so many people stayed for the Super Bowl, Indianapolis's claim to fame for the next forty years.

The Fairland Fish Fry was the only thing to do in my old town. And that's pretty much dead. I'm glad I'm getting out. I'm glad I could get out. Some of my high school friends won't. And they'll never see how awesome the rest of the world is. Small town livin'. It's not as great as it may seem. I don't recommend it.

Well, that's enough about me. Check out our podcast if you're interested, and if you have any questions about us, e-mail the website e-mail address or comment here and I'll get back to you.

-Alexis

Hipsters Always Post Extra-Long Titles Because They're Unusual and Witty

Currently having internal debates about my large collection of hipster-esque music. I want to dump all the songs out of my Spotify but the problem is that I actually like the fucking music. It's embarrassing that what I have doesn't even compare to how much I don't add to the list because it's just too hipster. That's Foxy Shazam. Ever heard of them? No, of course not. I'm just so much better at finding new artists than you.

"Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick-rimmed glasses" (urbandictionary.com)

The thing that really gets me about hipsters is the fucking condescension and smugness that clearly they are better than everyone else at finding unusual things. The problem with that is that they didn't really find most things. They put in a search term on Etsy or found some obscure music website from Google. It's not really that hard to do. Hipsters can only really relate to other hipsters if something is remotely accessible, and if it's somewhat accessible, someone else has found it. Sorry if it breaks your hip, grey-colored unusual heart, but you can't be original like that.

I think true hipsters are vagrants who got out too early from mental hospitals and still think they are princes of the galaxy. They have no conception of mainstream, so it's almost impossible for them to follow it. They are pretty much the only group of people going their own way.

About twelve times a day, I pause to just scroll through my music and wonder what the fuck I find so enjoyable about this music. My music has never been sacred to me. I can't say that music is my life because it just isn't. It becomes boring pretty quickly. There's no one band that can keep my attention for a very long time. Maybe I like hipster music because there's so much of it. It's all the same with different lyrics or horn sections. Long, stringy hair, v-necks, and old-sounding voices. "Unusual" love songs and songs about grammar or something undecipherable. Oh, and of course, falling in love at a coffee shop, every hipster's dream.

Not everything I like is hipster music, but a lot of it they'd probably listen to ironically. God, I've got Noah and the Whale on the list. Morningwood. Lana Del Rey, Mother Mother, Noah Gallagher's High-Flying Birds, and plenty of other nameless "The [something something]s" bands. And on top of that, I know the words.

One thing I've noticed is that hipsters like to be acknowledged as hipsters here in small-town Indiana, but without saying it themselves. It makes them feel as if all their work was not for naught. Most likely in other, bigger cities, they hate it, but only because that makes them feel like part of a category. Now, I'm all for being unique and having unique interests, but I think we can all agree that the interests of the common hipster are the same. Add to this the self-important air of knowing what is better and you've got an asshole, not a unique individual.

Maybe I'm an asshole. But I don't consider myself a better person for having found a new song or a cool pair of aviators. I don't need to wear vintage clothes to feel different. My brain is fucked enough to be different on its own without having to show it off. That being said, what to do about my mass of hipster music? Do I just let it go? If I don't, I'm just as bad, caring about something that doesn't need to be. But with all these new layers of society, I just don't know what is good anymore. I can't just make a joke or write something without people thinking that there are extra layers that all mean something different. No, I mean what I say and what you see is what I wanted to put out there.

I must be over-thinking it. Things aren't this complicated, are they? Fuck.

Make Things You Hate Go Away

There are a shit ton of things I hate. Too many to keep track. I hate when girls scream. Big Bang Theory. Lady Gaga. When there is an unnecessary romance story line in a thriller. Larry the Cable Guy. But what bothers me most is when people constantly talk about things they find most annoying. There is a way to keep those you hate powerless.


@Patton Oswalt I'm asking everyone, from here on, to not respond to, reference, or acknowledge @realDonaldTrump. Let. Him. Fade. #lethimfade

Patton Oswalt had it right. When the shooting happened with the Joker in Aurora, he told everyone not to say the shooter's name. Even before that, I only referred to him as Kid Rock. It takes away the power from someone when you don't refer to them by name or acknowledge their existence. The Lady Gaga craze had me angry and confused, but whenever I mentioned her, someone always defended her and that provoked more debate and thought about the girl. She had so much fame, and now, her antics have faded into the background because we rarely talk about her anymore.

I understand that when you hate something, you want to debate about it with someone. You want to have that satisfaction of bringing someone over to your side, to have them feel what you feel. But celebrity status is not brought down by hate. In fact, people rise to stardom many times because they are so widely hated. How many people watched that Rebecca Black 'Friday" video just to make fun of it? Currently, 42.345.042 people have seen it. Those statistics don't reveal who watches it to laugh. Sure, there are more thumbs downs, but that doesn't make the video or the girl any less popular.

You make a person popular by talking about them or searching their name on Google. You are responsible for something's fame. You can take away that power by never mentioning them. It's difficult, yes. When a group of your friends starts discussing the dummy Richard Mourdock, who said the awful rape comment recently, you want to join in and say that you remember he said similar things before, but that will prompt someone to look it up for conformation. Another search hit. You learn some news on some website, and that article rises in hits. Others see it. How do you think it works?

Next time, just let it go. Go draw a pretty picture or go jogging. Treat yourself to a day at the zoo. Better yourself and you won't get caught up in the silly news stories that seem to frame everyone's lives.

First Post Information Station

Hey, guys, first blog post. No pressure. I figure I might explain what this is about rather than jumping right into it. This is a side note of sorts to my main website, which if you hadn't noticed, is FromTheVan.com, one of the tabs at the top of the screen. We are currently going to stay in a city in an actual apartment instead of living in the van, as we have for the past four months. The van is pretty awesome for what it is, though. I'm more used to sleeping in it than in an actual bed, like we did for a couple days in Colorado. We were up half the night goofing around like little kids having a sleepover.

I frequent Twitter, our website, and harass Facebook, so I figured I'd come here, too. My last blog, My Back Patio, was pretty much a failure. It was a nice idea, but nobody wanted to have coffee in my imaginary backyard. This may be less personal, but people seem to hate interacting with the entertainment on the internet, so this blog might work a little better. It's less of a promotional thing and more of an extra place to put the things I say that don't make sense. Stuff that wouldn't fit on the FTV site, basically.

As you can see, Assinine is spelled wrong. Thank you Google Chrome for pointing that out every single time, but it's done for the irony. I know, it cancels out the funny when I point it out, but that's not why I did it. If I'm going to be honest with you, I spelled it wrong on accident when I first entered it into the website name, and I liked it. So oh well. It's pretty asinine anyway.

I'm Alexis and I'm twenty years old. My last name is Esteb, but I'm not Spanish, Mexican, or otherwise. Just a white girl with opinions and a nasty way of putting them. Now, before you click away, I should point out that I'm also a college dropout from a straight-A student lifestyle and I've been living in a van and traveling the country since June. I'm a libertarian, but also apathetic to voting and to the entire system in general. I did not vote in this election and I do not like either Romney or Obama. Having said that, I will never mention my preferences again, so if you're confused about who I like, please refer to this post in the future. I have a cynical attitude toward most things, but I like to keep a variety of opinions and use them as jokes. If you hate anti-religion jokes or cursing, leave now or get prepared by reading some of my Twitter posts. I hold nothing back and this is the only time I'm going to explain this.

Earlier I mentioned that I am moving. Brandon (my civil union partner) and I are going to Memphis, TN, to get an apartment and save up more money for our next trip. We actually have never been to this city, so our move is going to be almost completely blind. We'll be driving down there, sleeping in our van until we find jobs and a place somewhere. That is Brandon over there with the smug grin on his face. He's a pretty cool guy and  he keeps me entertained. Right now he's playing video games. That will probably be a similar story throughout this blog. I don't mind the video games. Sometimes I join, but I'm not a fanatic or anything. I like Age of Empires and Sims and other building towns junk.

Brandon and I do a weekly podcast that is hosted on the website, but you can also find us on iTunes, Twitter, Facebook, Youtube, and some other places, probably. We try to spread out so we can get to more people. We're not trying to get famous from this, but we do like to have some fan base. Just enough to want to keep doing it. It's more for ourselves. Something to do, I guess. We're actually about to do our 18th episode today. Shows how much we plan.

Well, before this gets too long and pointless, I'm going to wrap this up. Like I said, I keep up on Twitter, so when I'm not here, I'll be there. Thanks for your time and patience, and I hope you visit again.

Alexis