Category Archives: CassMaster

If only there were more hours in the day (and other common efficientcy wishes)

I often find myself saying and listening to such complaints/far-fetched wishes as “If there were more hours in the day, I could get everything I needed to do done” or “If I could be in more than one place at once, my life would be so much easier.”

Before I explain the end-all, be-all of these phrases, I have to thank my high school friends for countless hours imagining and laughing about this topic. I also have to thank First Aid Jack for bringing up some of the logistical questions that have thoughtful and hilarious answers while we were in the car last week.

“If only I have more hands! I could carry so much more and me so much more efficient.”

Which brings us to the subject of much laughter in the past four years of my life: Head Hands. What if we all have an extra hand? And what if that hand came out of not our torso, but our head instead? And what if instead of being like a regular ‘ol hand, this head hand had a mind of its own? (After all, it would be attached directly to your brain.)

Imagine it: You’re walking around a store in the mall minding your own business, maybe browsing the sweater section, maybe trying to find a different store to shop in, when the loss-prevention security goes off. You look around at the people near you to see who the sticky-fingered low-life is that’s trying to steal something, and find everyone is staring at YOU. A security guard approaches you, asks what exactly you think you’re doing. You’re not doing anything, actually, except standing there. Until the guard pulls a stolen garment from the clutches of one of your hands. You scream out, “But I didn’t do it! My head hand did!” — And so would be a common occurence in a world with head hands who do what they want with little regard for their hosts. Because what could you do to your head hand to punish it? Short of amputating it, you could do absolutely nothing.

Speaking of, how weird would it be to have an amputated head hand? You’d have a stump on your head! On the bright side, it couldn’t steal or do other unethical acts without your knowledge. Because we all know that head hands are the worst kind of hand. Always trying to grab hold of things, holding so tightly to a ceiling fan chain that you either can’t more forward or pull the whole thing straight out of the roof. Or hitting the person next to you in class. Or hitting YOU in class. Head hands, man, their bad news.

I guess head hands could be useful too, though. Like when you have not only books to carry, but folders full of papers and your cell phone and maybe even a hot coffee. Your extra hand could be kind enough to grab the things that the other hands couldn’t hold. Or in true head hand fashion, it could pour your coffee on you or turn the folder upside down so papers fly everywhere.

Head hands are like dogs, you have to train them well. If you neglect it, it won’t love you. If you take it to get manicures and let it lay out in the sun every once in a while, it’ll be happy to help out any time.  You have to start at a young age to get the best results. Speaking of age, do you think that head hands would be there when you were born or perhaps grow in during puberty? I vote the latter; it would make pubescence even funnier and more awkward.

Would head hands be left or right? After all, they’re in the middle, not to either side. I think it would be fair to say that head hands could be either, depending on a person’s dominance. But what if they didn’t have any thumbs because they weren’t like normal hands? What if they only had four fingers? Or five, but you have two pinky fingers!? How much of an arm would be attached to said hand? Would there be another elbow? These are only questions God could answer when and if he finally chooses to create a more advanced race.

You’d have to be very careful with your head hand. It might hit door jambs. Or get caught in a closing door. It would probably be at a higher risk of sunburn and skin cancer because its closer proximity to the sun. Ceiling fans would pose a threat, along with ceiling lights that get hot and can cause burns. The precautions to take if you had a head hand are endless, really.

I could do on for hours about head hands and how strange, funny, and useless they could be, but I’ll leave it at this for now. I have one last shout out though. Ted just started blogging for Open House NY and you can read his first entry here:   I’ve been to the place that he talks about and its just as eerie and awesome as he makes it out to be. READ IT!


Telepathy makes me uneasy (so do blonde asians)

I don’t like very many people. If you didn’t know that about me, you’re probably one of the people I don’t care for. My dislike for so many of those that surround me on the daily make me worried sometimes. Not about being a negative, complaining whiner, but that someone somewhere can read my mind. What if my inner people-hating thoughts were revealed to the world?? Nothing good could ever come of that.

I’ve been reading/watching True Blood and its made me paranoid about mind readers. Even if you don’t know anything about the series, you can appreciate the telepathy makes me uncomfortable.

I just have so many thoughts about so many people. And not just the people that I see regularly. We’re talking strangers here. I judge and I judge harddd. And on most about everything. Maybe judge isn’t the right word. I’m more like… an opinionated observer. I see things that annoy me or I think are dumb and I simply have to comment. How could I possibly stay quiet when someone walks into an establishment that calls itself a coffee shop and question if there was any coffee to be had?? So what if someone were to know that I thought their significant other was significantly more attractive than them? Or that they look like they’ve never heard of a hair straightener. Or that somehow just their socks make them look trashy? They’d think I was shallow and rude and unworthy of their company. (I’d kind of prefer the latter one. I mean, if I’m thinking mean things about you I probably don’t want to be with you at all.)

I’ve always taken comfort in knowing that no one could know what I really thought. But mind-reading? That’s a game changer. Sometimes I catch myself apologizing in my head. Thinking things like “If you can read minds, I’m sorry I was just so mean about the number of anti-diarrhea pills you bought.” Or making my meanness sound not as mean, at least to myself… as in “That woman is totally compensating for her heinous face by having super-dyed and styled hair. BUT she does have really nice hair. Lady, if you’re listening to me right now, you have very nice hair.”

The thoughts I have are endless. I wish I could say that if I came across someone that could read my mind, I’d become a better person, but I know I wouldn’t. I would have two options. Never ever go near said telepath again OR make them my best friend with no lies between us. Let’s be real though, the former sounds like a much easier option.

I’m just waiting for the day that someone turns to me and says “WHAT did you just think about me?!” Because there has to be at least one person somewhere that is telepathic. I hope I don’t ever run in to that person, though. Because then everyone, not just the select people I complain to all day everyday, will know my true nature.

Its Thanksgiving break!

Here I am at home. UConn gives us allll week off, which is a beautiful thing. So today, when I woke up at 10:30am after going to bed at 11pm (yes, I am that lame) and taking an hour nap around 6pm, I started thinking about how great it would be to sleep when I pleased and do nothing when I wasn’t. I mean, yea vacation is sort of like that, but where could I go and have this sort of life style foreverrr? There’s one place I could think of: a nursing home.

Once you get over the fact that it always smells and the food is subpar and you can’t actually leave, a nursing home is like paradise. There are people there to clean you and to feed you and to move you around. Essentially, you don’t have to do anything for yourself ever again.

Sure, most people that go into nursing homes are super old, but I can overlook that. Because I want to watch TV at 4 in the morning and sleep until 2 in the afternoon. I don’t want to know the date or the time. I just want to cruise around the hallways at midnight eating pudding out of my cup holder and bothering the night nurses.

It sounds like fun doesn’t it? I have clinical rotation is a nursing home ever week. No one looks particularly unhappy about being there. My favorite patient is one who had a stroke a few years back and can’t speak anymore. It sounds super sad, but he’s great. He cruises around in his motorized wheelchair everywhere in the facility. He has a license plate on his chair with his name and if you ask any of the nurses about him, they know exactly who you’re talking about. He always smiles when anyone walks by and he’s happy as a clam to be where he is.

There was also a woman who was very dissapointed that I was 21 and not married. Then again, she thought she had only been in the facility for 3 weeks, when in reality, it had been over nine years. She told me that she felt like a celebrity because everyone took such good care of her.

And that is why I would like to enjoy some time in a home. Just to test the waters. I mean, I really like pudding.



I had a conversation with some friends today about the TLC show I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant. It is by far, 100% positively, the most terrifying show on television. How could you not know you were pregnant for 9 whole months? I mean, there’s something actually growing inside of you and you have no idea? That seems a bit farfetched; there are just too many signs that shouldn’t be missed.

I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant is not just a TLC special, or even just a few episodes. No, the show is an actual series. There are enough women who did not know they were pregnant and then gave birth to make many many episodes that have about 3 stories each. That’s ridiculous and should make the female population shudder with fright.

There is one episode that I would like to talk about, however. A woman doesn’t know she is pregnant (obviously, as the name implies) and goes on a camping trip. She has severe stomach pains and moves from her tent to the dirty cement camp ground bathroom. Here, she tries to take a shit but (again, obviously) cannot. She then calls her boyfriend in to look at what may or may not be coming out of her. He looks and determines that her intestine must be what is visible. And so, the woman stands there and lets her baby fall to the ground. Why wouldn’t she try to catch that? Even if she thought that it was her innards, wouldn’t you attempt to save them? I certainly wouldn’t want dirty cement touching my guts. So the child falls to the ground. She does not spring into action as one would hope. Instead she stares at the fetus creature that has just fallen from her womb. Thankfully, a RN that happened to be staying in the campground came to the rescue and prevented anyone from dying. Though, I think she should have reevaluated saving the mother. She clearly is an unfit human being and the RN would have just been helping out natural selection by NOT aiding the situation.

I have another favorite episode with a woman who gives birth to twins in a McDonald’s bathroom, but that’s for another time.

Speaking of twins, I’d like to discuss Kate Gosselin and the litter she popped out. Have you seen a picture of her pregnant belly? BLEH. I googled it and couldn’t find a picture good enough to put up because all of the ones that are online now are ones of Kate skinny. But regardless, it was still gross. There’s a picture of it in the opening credits of Jon and Kate Plus Eight and I often get goosebumps after viewing it.

Speaking of multiples, how about those Duggars? 20, eh? That’s how many you want? Michelle better cut it out. Her vag must have turned into a slide by now and soon Jim Bob won’t even want to make more babies with her. Graphic, I know. And I apologize, but someone had to say it and it just happened to be me.

On a different note, it’s not even September and I’m getting very concerned that I do not have any idea what I’m being for Halloween. Just throwing that out there, feel free to throw some stuff back.


the iphone and its less-superior counterpart, the blackberry

If you have a friend who has an iphone, you’re going to understand exactly what I’m about to say. (well, type really) If you have an iphone, you’re going to have an “AHA” moment as you read on.

iphone users are serial texters. They blow you’re phone up with one text and before you can even open a new message to answer back, they’ve sent you another. Usually, its a whole message of just  “hahahaha” or “lol” and the second text they send it the actual meaningful stuff. Or they just text incomplete thoughts. I’d say that ratio of regular phone users’ texts to iphone users would be about 1:2.

If you have an iphone, you probably just realized you do this. Every time I tell someone about the serial texting phenomenon, they reply “It’s just so easy!” Yes, I understand that having an iphone is great and awesome and all that, but that doesn’t mean I want you dropping t-bomb after t-bomb into my inbox. That shit takes up memory.

Then there are people who are serial texting because they just have so much to say. If you can’t fit it all into the allotted 160 characters, you should rethink your message. Call the person instead. Or do what I do and go back through and make everything  into text-talk. Vowels get removed and proper grammar and punctuation go out the window. Who really needs to use an ellipse in a text? Nobody, that’s who. I see nothing wrong with “c u ltr” when you’re trying to save precious space for more important things, like emoticons.

As a side note, have you ever noticed that people who have iphone never call it their phone, but always refer to it as their iphone. God forbid someone think you’re so lowly as to own a blackberry. Speaking of blackberries, I’d like to comment on the creepiness of bbm. For those of you who do not know, bbm is BlackBerry Messenger. Its like instant messaging for blackberry users only. Which sounds great in theory, but there are some fundemental flaws.

First, some people claim that bbm is great because it saves you money on texting. FALSE. I know you have unlimited texting. It doesn’t cost you more no matter how many texts you send. Second, having bbm makes you a creep. You can see if the person you sent a message to has read it or not. So pretty much you can stalk anyone else who has a blackberry. I’ve seen people call each other out on not answering a bbm that they know was read because bbm TOLD them so. That’s bring texting to a whole new level. At least with plain old texting you can still pretend you never even got the message or that you didn’t read it until way later. bbm takes that whole white lying out of picture and makes it impossible to escape anyone sporting a blackberry. Hence why I own the htc ozone, a knock-off blackberrry-esque phone what everyone always thinks is a blackberry no matter how much I protest.


The Truth About Ashley’s

I am currently sitting here eating a brownie sundae from Ashley’s ice cream. I don’t know if you’ve ever enjoyed a sundae, or anything for that matter, from Ashley’s but man, is it delicious. I got my sundae with Coconut Mounds ice cream. I’m not really sure what other kind of Mounds there is, but coconut suits me just fine. There was a brownie (obviously), ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream. And its worth every one of the million calories it contains. But that’s enough of my food description.

Let me tell you some knowledge I recently gained from a former Ashley’s employee: Ashley’s ice cream is NOT in fact made by Ashley. You may say, well no, Cassie, its not made by Ashley! She’s just one person! How could she made enough ice cream for all of the stores in CT. (O, Ashley’s is a another reason I heart the great state of Connecticut.) Well, not even people who are employed by Ashley make that dreamy creamy dessert. Ashley BUYS tubs in bulk from a national distributor. UNCOOL. You can’t claim to be CT’s best ice cream if other stores are serving the same exact thing! That’s just unfair.

That’s just my first point. My second is just to point out how strange it is that we make ice cream in every flavor ever. My sundae is the perfect example. Why do I need ice cream flavored like a Mounds bar when I can just eat a Mounds bar? I understand flavors like mint chocolate chip; you can’t really just walk around munching on mint leaves and expect it to be delicious. Or normal. But brownie batter? Or Coffee? Butter Pecan, yes. I don’t know anyone who want to eat just plain butter with pecans mixed in. Or Rocky Road. If you were to literally eat a rocky road, you wouldn’t have any more teeth! Vanilla is also one that makes sense. Vanilla beans have a weird texture and would not make a good snack. Chocolate, however, does make a good snack. So why the chocolate ice cream? Hershey’s did right by us when they made their chocolate bar and here we are disgracing it.

I’m not saying I don’t enjoy ice cream of all types, because I certainly do. And I don’t discriminate on ice cream thats just a remake of a real food. I simply want to point out that its weird. Also, I wish I could stop eating Ashley’s. It’s way to expensive (I payed over $6 for this bad ass sundae) to be from a national wholesaler but who am I kidding? It’s far too delectable to pass up.

A Not-So-Judgement-Free Zone

Planet Fitness, my gym of choice, claims to be a “judgement free zone.” I’m telling you right now that that slogan is false advertising because I know I judge. I don’t judge everyone though. I have a lot of respect for people who get off their butts and get themselves to the gym on a semi-regular basis. I don’t really care if you’re walking 1.0 on the treadmill or you’re sprinting at 9.8 (because God knows you can’t handle those extra tenths of a mile to make it 10.0 – you were already struggling when  you hit 8.0 but you kept going. Snaps to you). I won’t pass judgement on someone using 3-lb free weights instead of 15 or anyone who mouths the words to the songs on their ipods (lets be real, I’m one of these people).

I do, however, judge you on your attire. Well, not the whole outfit. Just your shoes. Why are you wearing Keds to the gym? Those don’t have arch support. They don’t cushion your knees when you run or do squats. They don’t even look cool. What made you choose them? Do you not own real sneakers? No, I don’t really care if you don’t do cardio, that’s no excuse to wear poorly constructed footwear. Go to some discount shoe store to buy sneakes so you can at least pretend like you care about the health of your foot. Converse don’t count either, just in case you were wondering if your high tops (or even low tops) would be acceptable.

I lied, I judge on one more thing. Sports bras.  All I have to say is get one. Get one that works. Get two for God’s sake. No more of this I’m-wearing-my-regular-bra-to-run thing. Sometimes I’m afraid that the women on the treadmill next to me will not only put their own eyes out, but mine too. Both by rendering me blind with the heinousness of looking at their jiggling ta-tas and by hitting me square in the eye with a nip.

So there it is. If  you ever see me in the gym, you better take cover cause I’m judging you, I’m judging you hard. Unless of course you have proper sneakers and bras on. Or I can see the album artwork of Justin Beiber on your ipod touch. If you like the Beibs, you can wear Adidas slid-on sandals and a cami with a built-in shelf-bra for all I care. Just mouth the words to “One Less Lonely Girl” with me while I do that weird bicycle movement with my legs on the elliptical and we’ll be cool. We can even be friends. (Until I walk outside and see you get in a mini-van with those stupid family stickers on it. Then I’m calling it quits on your ass.)