Whiter Than Ghosts Swimming In Clorox: My DNA Results

(I had no idea how aptly named my blog was.  It’s sad because a little part of me always felt gangster, and I really hoped my internal makeup was more diverse.  “White Girls Be Like” was never more real.  I can’t even…)

Recently, my friend Jessie of “You’re Fine” took a DNA test and wrote about it on her blog.  I was like, “Awesome, I wanna try that!” and bought a test from 23andMe to see my own ancestral breakdown.  I figured it wasn’t going to be as interesting as Jessie’s, but maybe I’d find out something cool or find a relative I never knew about.

First of all, I had no idea about the process of sending away your DNA.  Basically you have to spit into this little cup thingy until it reaches the line (they say it takes about 5 minutes for most people, but I was spitting in this thing for half an hour).  Then you do some sciencey stuff and wrap everything up in the package they give you and put it in the mail.  A million years later (or about a month), you get your results online and all this cool stuff telling you about yourself and some stuff you already know (like, “yes, I know I have red hair, thanks for the info”) but also some stuff that you wouldn’t think they’d know which is cool.  For instance, they knew I was a sprinter (back in the day, not now) because I have some gene that says something about my muscles and how they’re made to sprint.

On the website, there’s a million reports all about what your DNA means (I highly recommend doing this, it’s super fun), and you can click on said reports to give you more detailed information.  I started off seeing my ancestral breakdown.

Alanna DNA breakdown
So… I’m white.

There’s a bunch of smaller percentages under these, but mostly I’m British and Irish.  Big surprise.  Another thing they can tell you is how much Neanderthal you have in you.  Apparently I have quite a lot, and I’m not sure what that says about me, but my mom laughed and said, “That makes so much sense!” which is always nice to hear…

Alanna Neanderthal DNA
More Neanderthal than 58% of other 23andMe customers.  I’m basically a cavewoman.

Some other things they told me I was likely to possess were interesting because I totally broke the mold and said, “Hey, DNA!  I don’t care what I’m ‘supposed’ to be like.  I’m gonna be ME.”  Here’s a list of stuff that was wrong:

  1. Unlikely to have a cleft chin.  I totally have one.  In fact, my cleft chin is a definitive factor about my face.  My uncles used to think it was funny to take a tissue up to my chin and say things like, “Hey, Alanna, I think you forgot to wipe,” or, “You have an ass on your face.”  The latter isn’t very clever, but still hurt my feelings.
  2. Unlikely to have a widow’s peak.  Uhmm… hello??
    Alanna widows peak
    Sailor’s wives come to my head to see if their husbands have come back to port. 

     

  3. Likely to have detached earlobes.  Mine are definitely attached.
  4. Likely to have a little unibrow.  Wow.  Not nice.  I don’t have a unibrow and I actually don’t seem to grow any hair in between my eyebrows so take that DNA people!!
  5. Likely to have straight or wavy hair.  Okay, this one is half right I suppose.  My hair is pretty curly but sometimes just wavy depending on the humidity or if God wants to punish me that day.

Other weird stuff about me is on the reports like the fact that I have wet earwax (shut up, it’s not that gross) and something about if I can tell if my pee smells like asparagus after I eat it (asparagus, not eating my pee).  I can also share my reports, so if you’re interested in how my ring fingers are longer than my index fingers, feel free to shoot me an email.

All in all, I’m just another white girl who likes to hang out in basements (probably because they remind me of being in a cave).  Have you ever tested your DNA?  If so, what’d you find out?  If not, what do you suppose you are?  How Neanderthal are you? 

The Great Purge: Me, Reagan, And Magic Mushrooms

(DISCLAIMER: there’s a lot of bodily functions in this story so if you’re easily grossed-out or offended by drug-use, then please stop reading right now. This post is not for you.)

This time of year always brings out the nostalgia in me. The good and bad times, the laughs, the sadness, the uncontrollable vomiting, and the realization that I’ve peed myself as an adult way more times than I EVER did as a child. Like, too many times. (I should probably look into that.)

Anyways, I’m not usually one to stop people from doing drugs.

(Depending on what they are. I’m not a monster, people. I’m not all like, “Hey, you should definitely do that heroin! I’m sure that needle is perfectly safe to use. These guys are pro’s!” Or all, “Meth is probably awesome! Look how much money they make on ‘Breaking Bad’! And most of them seem to have all their teeth still.” So settle down.)

But in this case, I’m saying outright: NEVER EVER EVER DO MUSHROOMS. Just don’t. Ignore Nike and their “Just Do It” mentality. Tell your friends to hop off your jock and that they’re idiots because this is one particular hallucinogen that’s simply not worth it.

I know some of you are sitting here thinking, “I was always fine and love mushrooms so FUCK OFF, ALANNA. I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR OPINION.” But to you I say, “I’M NOT GONNA FUCK OFF, I’M GONNA TELL MY STORY AND I DON’T CARE IF YOU DISAGREE. THIS IS MY BLOG. HOW ABOUT YOU FUCK OFF?!”

(No offense. You know I love you guys. But shut up for like 2 seconds and hear me out, K?)

So anyways, I was already drunk on Four Loko’s and awake for almost 24 hours when my friend came over with mushrooms. I wasn’t even trying to do them, but he never let me down before in this vein so after enough, “Just try a little,” I gave in. I’ve done a bunch of acid, I thought. This won’t even be a thing.

“Whatever,” I grabbed the nasty-looking stems and things and shoved them all in my mouth.

This is what they look like. DIRT. And guess what they taste like... DIRT. And shit.
This is what they look like. DIRT. And guess what they taste like…
DIRT. And shit.

I usually don’t gag, but I immediately regretted ingesting this particular fungus.

(It’s poison, by the way. In case you didn’t know. These mushrooms are LITERALLY poison.)

So after chasing them down with some Turkey Hill mango juice, I lied down on my couch. Then I started to feel nauseous. Normally, my stomach is hard as Jason Statham and nothing (mostly) makes me sick. After a while, though, I couldn’t deny it. The room looked weird and my mouth felt heavy. (That’s the only way I can explain it. Hallucinogenic-users probably understand.)

“Excuse me, everyone,” I said to Alessandro and my friend, trying to hold my shit together. “I have to go throw up now.”

I glided elegantly to the bathroom and proceeded to barf my brains out. I barely ate anything that day, so this was a super-fun experience. The odd thing though was that I could not stop. My body was like, “WTF DUDE, WHAT DID YOU EAT?!?!” And I could only be like, “My bee. Blaggghhh.”

I literally was throwing up so hard that I peed myself right where I was on the floor in front of the toilet. (But not only once, my friends. Multiple times.) At least I could laugh. I called Alessandro in, “Be careful. Don’t step in the piss. Blaaghhh.” He came in the bathroom and I had to laugh. Laughing made me barf more. Barfing made me piss myself more.

(I was wearing a really nice pair of pants, too. So sad…)

“I’m Lizzing. Blaghhh.”

Once I had someone to talk to, I managed to throw out some jokes in between bouts of vomit and piss. “This is exactly what Reagan was talking about,” I said, spitting out pieces of stupid fucking mushrooms. “This up-is-down, down-is-left America we live in blaaghhh…”

I might be the only person that can say magic mushrooms brought out my true Republican.

There I was, sitting in vomit and piss, spouting Reagan-era ideology, thinking about how in all my 21 years on the planet had culminated in this.

“Alanna, get up and get in the tub,” Alessandro tried to encourage me.

“No. This is what I deserve. I’m just gonna lie here in my own filth.” (But to be totally honest, I couldn’t get up if I tried.) “I should have listened to my parents and Nancy Reagan.”

The jersey is right: "Just Say No."
The jersey is right: “Just Say No.”

“I’ve let my country down.”

After some incredibly in-depth commentary on society and today’s drug culture, Alessandro was able to help me get into the tub. This was my where I was at this moment in time: a drugged-out fool sitting in a bathtub and making a ton of jokes about Reagan that I don’t remember as my boyfriend sat in the corner, cracking the fuck up.

“This is the low-point of my life.”

And it totally was. So after I cleaned myself up and got dressed, I came out to my living room and scolded my friend for disappointing the Reagans and America as a whole. Everybody was laughing but my message was clear: this shit was not the American Dream. This was a bad dream about America. I went out on my balcony and yelled into the sky as I shook my fist, “I WILL AVENGE YOU, REAGAN!!!!”

And spent the rest of the night feeling like absolute shit. Then, the other night, my other friend was like, “It’s a whole different experience when you take enough that you almost like leave your body.”

“Well, last time, everything INSIDE my body decided to ‘leave my body’.”

I’ll never do that shit again. And it’s all thanks to my incredibly horrifying trip and possibly Ronald Reagan speaking to me from the grave.

Ronald Reagan

He gets it. Don’t do drugs, kids. It’s not worth it. (Or just do acid. It’s much better.)

Also, check out my interview later today on Opticynicism. It’ll be pretty dope.

I’m Grateful For Things That Never Stop Being Funny

(According to me. If you disagree or would like to add some, please type it loud and proud in the comments. Or evaluate me on a psychological basis. It’s up to you.)

This is my gratuitous “What I’m Thankful For” post. Though often trite, these posts are necessary to mankind because we’re all usually ungrateful dicks. So here’s my list of things that I’m thankful for never ceasing to make me laugh.

1. Poop.

Self-explanatory. If you disagree, you clearly don’t know any gastroenterologists.

2. “Today Show” Fails.

Drunk people on morning tv? Never gets old. Specifically ANYTHING Matt Lauer does or says. The man is a god.

Matt Lauer good cheese gif

3. Cats doing anything.

Need I say more?

4. Twitter.

Funny Tweet 2

5. Farts.

6. The Clip of George W. Bush Dodging That Shoe.

George W Bush shoe throw gif

7. Drunk Animals on YouTube.

Look it up. You won’t be sorry.

8. Larry David.

Larry David faint gif

9. The Movie “Super Troopers”.

You can agree or not. I’ll still be laughing.

10. Henry Winkler.

Just because. It’s like asking “Why is poop funny?” It just is.

11. People Falling.

Risky Business Fall gif

12. Tina Fey And Amy Poehler Together.

They’re amazing. I wish I had a best gal pal.

Tina Fey Amy Poehler gif

So that’s my list. What about you people? What never stops being funny to you?

These guys stay pretty funny #FBF:

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Alanna of White Girls Be Like…

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna & Jessie Janelle Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur of Pouring My Art Out

Gina of Endearingly Wacko

Eric of Opticynicism

HAPPY FUNNY BLACK/BLOG FRIDAY! 

I’ve Shown You Mine… Let’s See Yours.

Oh…well hello there. I didn’t see you come in. Since you’re here, allow me to introduce myself:

 

This is an excellent example of what I assume "White Girls Be Like". (Note: duckface, headphones, laptop cam)
This is an excellent example of what I assume “White Girls Be Like”. (Note: duckface, headphones, laptop cam, etc.)

^^That’s me^^

My name is Alanna [LastNameRedacted] for legal reasons, obviously. I am currently 21 years old and studying English at Penn State University. Not the real one, though, with football, Jerry Sandusky, and lions roaming around terrorizing the halls (which is probably true). No, just one of the small satellite campuses where kids go because they couldn’t get into the real one. Mine is located in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and used to be a military base/fallout shelter because of the close proximity to a nuclear power plant. Also an international airport.

(Talk about asking for a terrorist attack.)

(Or possibly lion terrorists. Which definitely roam the halls of Penn State.)

 

I’m blogging here because I’ve always dreamed of being a writer, but publishing companies aren’t chomping at the bit to pick up an inexperienced writer with no ideas and like, 15 years of journals. I am also blogging because Jenny Lawson (a.k.a. The Bloggess) said she could see me blogging.

Maybe she’s psychic and literally saw me blogging in her mind or possibly a crystal ball.

 

I suppose my domain name (whitegirlsbelike) is correct (because I AM in fact a white girl, and I DO be like…etc.), but please note that this blog is for all races and I just suck at coming up with titles and such. However, this blog will pretty much be about my life and thoughts and that stuff.

The only problem is that I generally have a “Not Safe For Work” approach to my life, and I hope my parents don’t see this. (If you know them, please don’t tell them. Thank you.) I’m not gonna be all “diary-style”, but much of my anecdotal repertoire features major themes such as drugs, alcohol, sex (kind of), and various other criminal activities.

You’ve been warned.

Beware of bat attacks. And lion terrorists.
Beware of bat attacks. And lion terrorists.

 

Sooo anywaysss…..

Now that you all know me, we can be best friends.

Yayy! :)

 

Also, you can comment here and tell me all your deepest, darkest, most incredible secrets. For example, I’ve been stuck in traffic while having to pee really bad on multiple occasions without something to pee in, so I’ve peed my pants IN MY CAR approximately 3 times. Perhaps four?

So what are YOUR secrets? Or thoughts? Maybe you were conceived in a dumpster? Or possibly you’ve murdered your entire family? Let me know!! I don’t judge, I promise.

 

Adios, amigos! Have an excellent rest of the day!