New #47: Chatroulette

Chatroulette did not seem appealing. The website is designed to randomly connect you (through your webcam) to some completely random person in the world for a face-to-face chat. They can see you, you can see them. You can talk, or you "next" the person and be moved on to another stranger.

All I'd heard about the site is that it's a hit among teenagers ... and to expect lots of penis (from people who apparently think it's really funny or sexy to show their junk to the world). Needless to say, it did not sound like my cup of tea. But then I had a conversation with a 16-year-old who swore her favorite thing in the whole wide world is having Chatroulette sleepovers with friends, when they spend hours clicking through the site. Maybe it was the dare of trying something new -- or a secret wish to be 16 again -- but I decided to give it a go myself.

For my wing-woman I recruited Kim, who not only knew me as a teenager but is someone I knew would be a good support system through this adventure. We promised ourselves to stay on the site for 15 minutes. Then we could check it off the list of things we'd done in life and never spin the Chatroulette wheel again. But whatdoyaknow? An hour and half later, we were still clicking away, with our cheeks hurting from smiling, throats sore from laughing and neighbors pissed from our screaming. So much fun!

But like many great relationships, Chatroulette did started off very awkward. What is the correct etiquette? How long should we wait to next a person? What do you even say? Luckily, the first few people took care of things right away by nexting us within seconds. This should have probably been more insulting than it was, but really it was a relief to not have to talk to anyone. Soon we stumbled upon people who didn't next us ... but just stared at us. We waved or said hi. When they still didn't respond, we began using our next button. That's when the party really got started.

Soon we were blazing through all kinds of people. Most of them were younger guys alone in their room. Creepy. We usually nexted them right away. We'd run into a few other girls, too, who usually nexted us. Through all of this we set up some ground rules for nexting: If you can't see the person's face, next them. And anytime you see a blank room, it almost always means a penis sneak attack is on the way. If you hesitate, you get a screen full of nasty.

Like the legends told, there was indeed a lot of wiener on the site. It was like Russian Roulette ... just with balls instead of bullets. Each time we were unfortunate to stumble on one, Kim and I would scream "Penis!" and next it as quickly as we could. The neighbors must have really wondered ...

But among all the unfortunately connects, we did run into some fun people worth talking to. A few had an entire party connected to the site. Some danced for us. Some showed off their pets. Then there was one hilarious drunk guy from New Orleans. He had a whole slew of "whats up? chicken butt" jokes. He laughed so hard at his own funnies he literally fell over laughing. Now that's what Chatroulette is all about.

Some of our new friends along the way. Above is thumbs up guy. Below is a pumpkin head who danced for us with maracas.

New #46: Bleach Art

This was Project Fail for Sarah. I should have known. Bleach is great to clean white clothes, but get it near anything with color and it's disaster. Same goes for crafts.

I found this project online and was in love from the start. Not only was it easy, but the end result looked like something you'd buy from the hipster rack at Nordstrom. Here is the link to the instructions and my inspiration.

You start with a black shirt or fabric that you want to fancy up. I originally wanted a tee, but later realized the only plain black shirts I could find for cheap weren't really a style I'd ever wear. So instead I settled on a small clutch. It was made from a thicker material than T-shirts ...which may have been my downfall.

You're supposed to cover the garment (or purse) with tape and stickers to your liking. This covered area will stay dark while the rest is bleached. I used some duct tape to make a few fancy lines. I also added a bird decal sticker, an idea recommended by the posting.


Next it was time to bleach. I mixed about 30% bleach with 70% water into a spray bottle. Then I spritzed away. It seemed so wrong to intentionally spray bleach onto something black! But I guess it was in the name of crafting.


Nothing happened right away, as I hoped it would. I have a thing for instant gratification. So I put the clutch under a light in the kitchen to help it along. But an hour later, it still wasn't completely dry or bleached, so I busted out my hair dryer. That worked like magic! Within five minutes the bleach was dry, leaving blotchy rust-colored spots in its place.

Now it was time for the big unveiling. Slowly, I peeled away the tape strips one by one. What I found underneath was disappointing, to say the least. The pure black stripes I'd hoped for were no where to be found. Instead, the bleach seeped under the tape, leaving only the slightest indication that it was even covered at all. The bird decal was even more pathetic. It didn't look like anything but bad.


Maybe I should have made the tape strips bigger. Maybe I used the wrong material. Maybe I suck at bleaching. But whatever happened, this project did not work for me. Now I'm left with a clutch that looks like an infected scab. Not exactly something I'd like to use as an accessory :(

New #45: Taste Hopi Food

Unlike some eats I've avoided because I'm finicky, Hopi food is something I've never tried because I never knew it existed -- until learning about it from an American Indian himself last week. I was visiting my parents in Arizona, and my dad took me to his Rotary Club's meeting. Each week they have a new speaker, and this special guest was a Hopi Indian from the nearby reservation. I don't remember the name he goes by - which was Mark or Steve or something - but his official Indian name was Snake Hunter. As his name implies, he was awesome.

The presentation was only about a half-hour, but Snake Hunter told us all about his culture, including the ancient history of his people, various holidays they celebrate based on the crop seasons, gods they worship (like this creepy one that threatens to chop up and eat bad children) and the various clans that make up the greater tribe. I was happy to hear it's a matriarical society, where women rule the roost.

Near the end he was a bit rushed for time, but Snake Hunter made sure to pass out various samples of his people's food he had prepared for us. Everything revolved around corn, which is a major (if not the only) staple of their diet. To start we were given cooked corn kernels, which tasted and crunched like Corn Nuts. They were pretty yummy.

These are the kernel treats. The blob on the left is the mystery corn dough.

Next we tried some weird corn bread that had a consistency similar to play dough. This dish is a pain in the ass to make, Snake Hunter said (in his own poetic Hopi way). Women essentially have to grind corn down to dust and then cook it with their bare hands over a red-hot rock. They usually get really sore and burnt -- but when they can complete the bread, it proves that they'll be a great wife. The dish wasn't that good really, but I appreciated all the hard work that went into it.

Finally, we tasted some 7-year-old corn right off the husk. The Hopi have learned to dehydrate corn, which they can store for decades. When they finally get hungry for some, they soak it in water and it plumps right up. This wasn't the yellow corn I'm used to -- but the brown, black and white kernels were sweeter than anything I've tasted on the cob before. And no butter needed! I think these Hopi are definitely on to something.