Due To Recent Events..

Because of the disasters that have just taken place across the world (Japan, Hawaii - which I missed by one day, Haiti, and possibly others), I don't find it appropriate to poke fun at anything today.
Not that I'm one for appropriateness of any kind, really, but I'm not in the mood.
My thoughts and prayers are with everyone affected by these horrible natural disasters (which is pretty much everyone, in some way or another), and I hope that healing can begin as soon as possible.
If you have a penny or two to spare, please visit http://www.disasterfunding.org/DisasterFunding.org/DisasterFunding.org.html/ to make a tax-deductible donation now. If you (like me) are broke, please focus your prayers and positive thoughts towards the world's disaster victims. Light a candle for those who are missing. The smallest things can make a difference.

That said, I hope to return tomorrow with some shenanigans.

If I Had Testicles, They'd Be Frozen.

Well, I'm back in Alaska. 

And it's freezing BALLS outside. 

Sure, 25 degrees is actually t-shirt weather for us here, but that doesn't change the fact that I could be somewhere else, wearing a t-shirt without shivering. 

It also doesn't change the fact that about 80% of the people here are fucking insane. 

It's the 9 months of complete darkness, combined with freezing temperatures and ungodly amounts of alcohol that will do it to you.

The lucky ones who DO turn out alright usually move by the time they hit adulthood, or they take as many vacations as humanly possible.

Alaska isn't ALL bad, of course. Those of us lucky enough to live here enjoy such wonders as:

Cute huskies!

Beautiful scenery!

Winter adventuring!

Moose!

Grizzly bears!

And...AAAGH! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? 

Once again, the problem with living in Alaska is that everyone is bear-shit crazy.

:) 

I don't really hate Alaska, I just can't wait to leave. I move to Los Angeles toward the end of August....so FIVE 1/2 MORE MONTHS!!!!!! :D :D :D

FDS: Female Driver's Syndrome

When my friends are in need of a ride, the one person they DON'T call is me. Trust me, they have good reason.

I drive a little white Ford Taurus that's almost as old as I am. It clearly belongs to me, if you know my personality - "ISNICE" is the license plate – a Borat reference -  "MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR" is the bumper sticker. There's an "I ran into my ex - then put it in reverse and hit him again" air freshener hanging from my mirror, and if you look closely (okay, it's obvious), you'll notice that the entire right side of my car is scratched up, and the right rear-view mirror is dangling by a little cord - the mirror itself is missing.

I could make up a dramatic story involving moose (a common cause of accidents in Alaska), a child in the road (whom I would heroically dodge, sacrificing my car in the process), or another car (which came out of NOWHERE). Alas, truth is dumber than fiction.

I hit a fucking couch.

Someone thought it would be funny to leave an 8-person couch in the middle of the road to my neighborhood. I would have assumed it had just fallen out of the back of someone's truck by accident, if it hadn't been for the lamp, rug, and strategically placed throw pillows around the couch. It's as if someone decided to move their living room into traffic as a joke.

Well played, stranger, well played. If it had been on Jackass, and it didn't involve me, and it wasn't at 11:30 pm, I might have been amused... but, being Rachel, all of the above were the case.

Something you should know.... when people say "woman driver," they mean me. I will fully admit that I am probably the worst driver on the face of the planet. I'm not a hazard to anyone but myself, really.... I try to pay attention, but the second I see a shiny object, or a stray dog, or an attractive jogger...especially attractive joggers, my defensive driving certificate (which I received with flying colors, mind you) flies out the window.

But, back to the couch -

I almost hit it straight on, which would have spelled disaster for my car and myself, as I was going 70 miles an hour (because I’m a dumbass), but I dodged it in time to where it only hit the right side of my car.

What really sucked the most about this entire situation was explaining it to my mom.

"Hey, mom... I got in an accident," I cringed.

"Oh my God! Are you okay? Is anyone else hurt? What happened?" Mom turned off the romantic comedy she was watching. When it requires her to stop romantic comedy night, I know I’ll really be in trouble.

"I'm fine, nobody's hurt. I didn't hit anyone or any cars."

"You hit a moose?"

"Um... no."

"Well then, what happened?!"

I paused for a moment... there really is no good way to explain an epic fail to your mother.

"I...uhmm.... I hit a couch."

She stared at me for what seemed like ages. Her mouth hung open slightly, and I could almost hear the flies buzzing around inside.

"It came out of nowhere, I swear."

"You really are special, Rachel,” she finally sighed. “Well, I'll tell you one thing, you didn't get it from me."

I have diagnosed myself with FDS (Female Driver's Syndrome). It is not genetic, nor is it restricted to females. I have met numerous male sufferers of the disease. If you meet someone who is suffering from FDS, you might follow one of these suggested courses of action:

1. Step out of the car. Back away slowly.

2. Slap them on the forehead, scream "you should have had a V8," get out of the car, and run for cover.

3. Teach them to “feel the road” by blindfolding them and placing a live cougar in the backseat, as the film Talladega Nights: The Ballad Of Ricky Bobby demonstrates.

4. Tease them about being a Woman Driver (this is especially effective if the sufferer is male).

5. Go along with them, and play "hit the pedestrian." This is a useful and amusing activity, and improves one's steering abilities immensely.

6. Grab the steering wheel. Don't give it back until they stop the car.

7. Duct-tape the drivers' hands to the wheel. I wouldn't suggest taping her foot to the gas pedal, as this spells disaster. Trust me. I know.

8. Don’t ask Rachel Novae for a ride – your couch may be in danger.

Chatroulette = My Bitch.

In honor of International Woman's Day, or rather, every day in which you are a woman, I would like to share one of my favorite ways to screw with people.

And who better to screw with than online perverts?

This activity is not limited to females. I'm sure it would work for guys as well, but they would have to be a little more creative.

STEP 1: Get on Chatroulette. Focus the webcam on your cleavage or an equally enticing area (don't show anything private, please). Skip through innocent children, grannies, etc (unless said grannies are interested),  until you find someone who hits on you.

STEP 2: Entice them by saying something like "Would you like to see?" or "Ooooh you're so sexy." Or something along those lines. Hook them. 99.999% of those who take your initial bait (cleavage) will say "HELL YES."

STEP 3: Bring the webcam up to your face, revealing a drawn-on unibrow, facial hair, ugly bald wig, gross makeup, or all of the above. Make sure you're UGLYYY.

STEP 4: The second he (or she?) sees your face, snap a screenshot. Their facial expressions will be priceless.

**NOTE: You will get two kinds of reactions, after the initial shock: 1. They see they got pranked, and laugh hysterically. Funny conversations usually result. Or, 2. They actually believe you look that way. HA.

END RESULT: Hours of laughter, fantastic photos for posterity, and an embarrassed person somewhere.

Here are some photos from a recent sleepover in which my friends and I pioneered this pastime.

Too bad blogger automatically resizes photos...I haven't figured out how to change that yet. Derp. The lovely (but artificially unibrowed) girl above is Julia. She has the best boobs, plus she has the sexy black factor. Reeled 'em in every time.

This guy did not react how we expected. REACTION #3: The pervert is not deterred by your ugly face. 

AAAAND we have a winner. 

Go forth, my minions, and conquer. 

Wolphins and Turtle Sex.

Today I knocked one more thing off of my "Epic Things To Accomplish Before World Domination" list. I swam with dolphins. Even cooler, I swam with a Wolphin.
When I heard "Wolphin," I thought "Walrus/Dolphin? Wtf?"

 It was definitely not a walrus/dolphin (pictured above). A Wolphin is actually half False Killer Whale, half Bottlenose Dolphin. Pretty much the Liger of the sea.

...And did I mention, FREAKING ADORABLE?!? Yup. She took me for a bellyride and gave me kisses. Lots of kisses. It was pretty much the hottest makeout session ever, although she smelled like fish.  I said the relationship was moving too fast and I needed to take a break. Annoyed, she moved onto the next adoring tourist.

 The sealife center here on Oahu (where my family and I are currently vacationing) is pretty cool. The only thing that would make it spectacular would be sharks with laser-beams on their heads. I'm determined to own a pool full of them someday, Dr. Evil-style.
Alas, no lethal sharks.
But there was live turtle porn.

I think out of every creature in the animal kingdom, sex must be the most boring for sea turtles. They don't do ANYTHING. I'm pretty sure the male was asleep half the time...reminded me of some old married couple.

Anyway, I hope you're having a good day. If not, Dr. Rachel prescribes a teaspoon of funny. Here's a video. Do not use if you are easily offended.



Have a great day!

Let's Hope For A Second Impression.

The first post is a lot like the first line of a novel; it either draws you in, or you are automatically disinterested.
I think that's bullshit. :)
I honestly have no idea how to start this blog, just as I have no idea how to make a good first impression - either take me or leave me, I guess.
On that note, here are the upsides of continuing to read my blog:
1. The next post will be more interesting.
2. No matter how bad of a day you're having, you can laugh at the fact that I exist, that these things actually happen - I have some major embarrassing stories, let me tell you.
3. Everything here will be 100% true, unless I change a name or two to protect privacy. Now, knowing I'm not completely full of it, see number 2.
4. If you like I Love Lucy, dogs, funny things, expletives, food, air, water, blogs, or anything that is good and fun in this world, you should find SOMETHING relatable over the course of my blog's (hopefully long) life.
5. You'll gain magical powers.

Although VitaMeataVegaBlog is the best thing since toilet paper, it is not for everyone.

Possible Negative Side-Effects of Using VitaMeataVegaBlog:
1. After reading some possibly incredibly stupid misdeeds of mine, your brain cell production may take a plunge. Although, this will be very rare. If more than one person suffers brain damage from my writing, world domination may be closer than I think.
2. If you have no sense of humor, you will be very bored.
3. If you have no grasp of sarcasm, you will be very depressed.
4. VitaMeataVegaBlog should not be used by women who are nursing, pregnant, may become pregnant, have periods, eat chocolate, breathe air, or are women. Everyone knows women can't read.
5. VitaMeataVegaBlog should not be used by men who are men. Everyone knows real men don't read.
6. VitaMeataVegaBlog should not be used by black people. Everyone knows that black people are too sexy to read.
7. VitaMeataVegaBlog should not be used by white people. Everyone knows that white people are too busy eating McDonalds to read.
8. VitaMeataVegaBlog should not be used by humans. Humans should be trying to save their planet instead of reading my brain-farts. Unless they decide to take a break from world-saving and catch up on the latest. ;)

Does VitaMeataVegaBlog sound right for you? Talk to your doctor.
I'm a doctor.
I've watched Dr. Oz a couple of times.
And I say that VitaMeataVegaBlog is just what you need.

Here's a spoonful of bullshit. Have a great day.

p.s...I promise the next post won't suck as badly.