Click "Follow" up above, on the little bar, to receive more updates on my insignificant time here on Earth. It will be greatly appreciated. And since you took time out of your day to visit my little blog, I think you're pretty amazing.

Monday, April 18, 2011


They are supposed to relieve stress, fountains. They are supposed to calm you down, they are. They often inspire weird sentence structure from writer-blocked writers, yes they do. So my father recently bought one. He's at work now, and my sister is at her learning institution, so...

I decided to set that thing up.

It came in a little cardboard box. The box had been sitting on our kitchen counter, which lead me to assume that my dad wanted to set it up in the dining room. It certainly would match with our decor. Anything would match with our decor. Because we have no decor. It's just a room with a table and 4 mismatched chairs, in front of a windowsill full of business magazines, black magazines, and black business magazines. There's the occasional crayon. It's not cluttered, it adds variety to the room.

So I'm like, "yeah...this will look nice in here. Maybe I can finish up WebAssign next to a little bitty fountain." I said that out loud because no one was there, and it's healthy to talk to yourself every now and then. By now, I'm motivated. This is the last day of this pleasant weekend, man, I'ma get some serious stuff done. I didn't say that out loud, though.

I bring the fountain out of the box. It appeared to be stuck, but I yanked the tiny contraption out eventually. I though I broke it at first. The top of it came off and the base was still in the box. "Damn it." I said that.

I sort of reunited the two part in a way that made sense. I don't know if it was the correct way, it just looked like it worked. Then I found the instruction manual...s. There were about 4 separate documents. Some looked plain and they were not even glossed or colored. I looked at the exciting ones first. They were coupons. Total waste of time.

Something told me to actually read the instructions, so I did. As small as this was, I knew it required some skill or intricate know-how to operate. So I skimmed over it. I mean, I read it. I assembled all of the parts. The booklet told me to "familiarize" myself with the fountain. I totally did.

I think the most fun derived from that assembly session was adding the water. The base seemed to already have mineral build-up. That's pretty classy. I filled it up with distilled water. I would have gone a step further and use bottled water, but bottled water is not that special.

I plugged the thingy in, full of confidence that this moment would change my life forever. I planned on telling people at school tomorrow about it. It really was exciting. It didn't work.

The "pump" wasn't pumping anything. It was fueling my confusion, sending pangs of rejection into my dejected soul. I may 'ave mumbled something at this point. I consulted the instruction booklet once more. This went on for a good 15 minutes. I remember thinking about how this was causing more stress, instead of relieving it.

It turns out, all I needed to do was change outlets. See, some would credit the instruction manual for "troubleshooting" but I feel like intuition was all that was necessary. So it's finally working, but the stream is sort of weak and it sounds...well, it honestly sounds like someone urinating. Don't be all, "how would you know?" I do. You do. So I'm being calmed by 6 streams of colored water. Yes, it is working. Name suggestions?

I went to my room to get my computer to start WebAssign, but I ended up blogging instead. In about 5 minutes, I wrap this up and hopefully finish up that last 30%. This weekend is going to end wonderfully with a 30 Rock marathon. I have a newfound, admittedly late, admiration for Tina Fey. I've seen one episode so far. I seldom finish series unless it's really captivating, and so far it is captivating. Also, on a slightly creepier note one of my teachers resembles her. Somewhat. Only somewhat.


    Ahem, Mrs. Farrell = Tina Fey.

    I want a tiny fountain. Is it thereputic? You should call it Thurston.
    This reminded me of IKEA. I love IKEA.
    Sorry, this comment is a loser. Ignore it. :)

  2. Congratulations on troubleshooting/successfully setting up your mini-fountain!!! Did your dad end up wanting it in the dining room? Did you ask? I think it'll look good there.
    Now I want one. It would probably make me have to pee though. Now I have to pee. When you say it sounds like somebody urinating do you mean a man urinating or a woman urinating (totally different sounds)
    Anyways. I hope your webassign finishing goes well, I hope your fountain helps you finish.
    I think you should name it Ike. Ike is a lovely name for a fountain.

  3. @Kelsey: YES, my gosh yes. I was awkwardly comparing them in class yesterday, and it just fits. She even has a magazine cut-out of Tina Fey on her metal cabinet probably given to her by a student. Ahem. And it is theraputic NOW... the name shall be Thurston Ike Ikenston Thike.

    Which leads into my @Sarah reply! I really do enjoy the name Ike. Hurricane Ike was bad...but I like the name! And he is pleased with it being in the dining room so we can listen to women peeing while we eat. :D

    Thank you guys for reading and commenting! (Sorry this is rather late)

  4. I believe that the name Thurston Ike Ikenston Thike is on of the most beautiful combinations of Ike and Thurston I have ever seen. I totally didn't even consider the hurricane when I thought of the name. Weird.
    XD I love listening to women peeing while eating.
    No problemo! My reply is also rather tardy.