Incase You Want To Be Just Like Me

Here are some great gardening links that I have been using:

Little House in the Suburbs
Especially their posts about: Newspaper Seedling Pots, Cinder Block Compost Bins, How to Compost, and Aluminum Can Plant Markers

Grow Your Own Tomatoes.com

Bottle Herb Garden (from Instructables)

TinySeeds.com

Have Fun!

Sweet Baby Jesus!

Woah-ho! I just realized how long it has been since I have posted anything new. They say no news is good news and in this case it's true. It means I have had nothing to complain about lately.

You guys actually dodged a bullet and didn't even know it because I almost got on to post a funny story that I thought of, but didn't, because a) it was really long and I just haven't had time and b) it was about cat poop. And who really wants to read 5 paragraphs about cat poop, no one. Your welcome.

I knew things would be busy for me, but I thought it would be because the school semester is coming to an end and I would be overwhelmed with homework and term papers. I think my teachers are even lazier than I am, and you know what, it is strangely motivating. I'm so bored it is actually making me more productive.

This month I started a garden in my back yard and in my in-laws back yard (a salsa garden with tomatoes, green onions, cilantro, and 5 types of peppers!). and a compost pile (I have always wanted one and don't know why). I also started going to craft nights at a local cafe, and sometimes I volunteer to help close up. I actually made some friends (weird, I know) and meet on monday mornings to do yoga in the park.

Now I just need to get bored enough to start looking for a job.

Movies - A List Of The Good And The Not So

I made each one a link to the IMDB page so check them out if you haven't seen them yet.

Movies I Have Watched Recently And Would Recommend:
Role Models
I Love You Man
Yes Man
Chocolate
Delicatessen
Chaos Theory
District B13
Idiocracy

Also here is a great list of the Top 50 Dystopian Movies of All Time, if you're into that kind of thing. It has been my go-to guide for movies lately when I can't think of what to watch. Enjoy.


Movies I Have Watched Recently And Would Not Recommend:
Oldboy - Great fight scenes, but might as well have been called it Incestboy.
The Foot Fist Way
Ghost Rider - I actually tried to get through this move three different times, now I just turn it on when I am punishing myself for something.
Just Add Water
The Puffy Chair


Of the five that I would not recommend, the only one I could actually sit though entirely was Oldboy, and now that I have seen the ending I wish we would have turned it off the fist time I thought "this is getting weird."

Mask White

I must be a strange breed, I'm a female in my twenties who doesn't wear makeup or perfume, I don't dye my hair and I don't get my nails done. I don't even go to a salon to get my hair cut. Most of the time I feel like all this is a good thing, it saves me a lot of time and money. But, it also means that I am entirely clueless when it comes to these things.

Back in November I was a bridesmaid at my sister-in-laws wedding and she gave us cute tote bags filled with all these samples of fancy beauty products. There were skin toners, face creams, cuticle cream, night repair hair cream, and a few other things that I am not even sure what to do with.

This morning I woke up and thought, "hey, my face has been clearing up, maybe I should reward it with some fancy face cream". I dug through my drawer and found a little pouch that looked the least intimidating. It simply read "mask white" and on the back it said "exfoliating". Looked easy enough, it didn't even need instructions. So I washed my face and thought I would just let this white cream sit on my face for a sec, then wash it off. Right?

Boy was I wrong. I tore open the little pouch and it was filled with a thick, sticky, black goo. I dabbed it all over my face, but began to question if it was even supposed go on the face, I mean what if it was a small sample of shoe polish or hair dye? I was only assuming it was ment for the face. I tried to wash it off my hands so I could consult the packaging again but it was so thick and sticky that it took nearly 10 minutes to scrub off. Surgeons don't even wash their hands that long.

I looked at the package again. "Exfoliating", I doubt that is entirely truthful. I'm no expert, but I expect anything labeled exfoliating to be kind of scratchy to do accomplish the exfoliation. This stuff was just sticky as shit, which means the exfoliating occurs when I scrub my face to death for 20 minutes. They should call that "exfoliating inducing."

Just to be sure that my skin got the full effect of the shoe polish on my face I let it sit a while longer while I folded some laundry. My cat, Grey Kitty, hopped up on the bed because she loves to sleep on warm clean clothes, but she wasn't prepared for my new look. She got startled, hissed at me, then hid under the bed.

My face was starting to feel like spandex on a fat lady's thighs so I went back to the bathroom. The mask cream had completely dried and apparently tried to shrink. A light bulb went off in my head that instead of washing it off I should peel it off. That started out good until I got to the delicate skin under my eyes. Which made it look (and feel) like I was peeling my own face off. I also made a mental note to avoid my eyebrows next time because I will be spending the rest of the day picking black tar out of them. Fun.

So I learned a lot already this morning. Like dont trust anything without instructions, especially anything called "mask white" that is actually black as tar. Boy do I feel like chump.

Holding Out For The Right Job

I am having the hardest time finding a job right now, but it isn't the getting hired part that is hard, its finding one to apply to that is. Even in my desperate state I have standards. For example I refuse to even apply for a position where the classified reads, "tiping skills, word, and excell a must" because that means working for someone who can't spell typing or excel, and I just can't deal with that right now.

I tried my luck at a career fair a while back, which are never easy for me. I have a hard time talking to strangers especially about myself. The only email I got after was from the one asshole I couldn't stand. From the moment I approached his table he seemed hell bent on making me cry. I tried not to take it personally because I could tell he was the kind of loud mouth guy who gets a kick out of making other people feel uncomfortable, but he took it to a whole other level of ass holery with me.

I walked up and started my little spiel about myself and he immediately interrupted me.

Him: Wait, wait, wait a sec honey, I think I remember you. Were you here last year?"

Me: Yes, but only for the seminars. I was still a student.

Him: No, I remember you. You came up just like this, then when I tried to set up and interview you game me all sorts of problems and excuses. So why should I let you waste my time again?

Me: I don't know what to say, I think you're thinking of someone else.

Him: Well, I don't normally give second chances, but lets see your resume.

I hand it to him and he starts to look over it.

Him: So you just graduated?

Me: Yes, in September.

Him: Good, but you have no work experience?

Me: Well I have a year of sales experience in a similar area.

Him: Yeah, but its just not the same. I tell you what, I am going to set your resume over here in this pile. This pile is for the people who would need some work and training and I haven't decided if I have time for that right now.

Me: Well It was nice to meet you, thank you for your time.

Him: You know what I should bring to these things? A paper shredder, wouldn't that save time? I'm not talking about your resume, don't get all misty eyed on me. I'm just saying wouldn't that be kind of funny. Bzzzzz!

I kept it together the best I could as I walked right out the door and to my car. Game over. Then I got his email a week later asking for me to send him a headshot, so he could put faces with all the resumes. I didn't send one, but looking back I wish I would of send him something obscene or atlease a picture of me giving him the finger. I still see his adds in the classifides, he must go thought employees like breathmints.

That was more than six months ago and I still don't have a job. But atleast I haven't been stuck at a job that I hate for six months.

Missed Opportunities

I was sitting outside one of my classes last Wednesday, because I always end up getting there early, and some dude walks up and asked me to turn in his homework for him because he couldn't stay. I said yes and took the paper, but as he and his friends were walking away I thought of the best joke to play on him.

As they walked away I wanted to just reach over and drop his homework in the trash nearby. I would be funny to the other people standing around, and it would be extra funny if he or one of his friends saw me and called me out. Then I could just be like, "just kidding!"

I let the opportunity pass my by because I don't know this dude at all, and it was the kind of thing that would either end up making us friends or he would just hate me and mutter 'bitch' under his breath every time he saw me. But, it made me laugh to my self so next time an opportunity like that comes up I think I'll do it.

Giggles, the Depressed Luck Dragon

While I was going to school in San Diego I rented a room from a guy who works with my dad. I spent most of my time off and nights at my boyfriends apartment because I couldn't stand being in that house.

When his wife was home she constantly wanted someone to talk to and even told me all about her daughter's re-occurring bladder infection over breakfast.

Most weekends their grown daughters would visit with their kids. When they showed up I would grab my stuff and get out as soon as possible, even when I had nowhere to go. I guess I grew up in a quiet household because the amount of noise that these people made just seemed ungodly.

One of the kids, a boy about 6 years old, must have been possessed by a demon because that is the only explanation for the kind of noises he made. For the longest time I thought his 2 year old sister was the fussy one, but it turns out it was him who was always crying like a baby, seriously, not kid-crying with snot bubbles and choking out words, crying baby infant noises. Weird, just weird.

When no one was home the dog would howl the most lonely howls in the world. It was the most depressed dog I have ever met, ironically named Giggles. This dog looked like a tiny Luck Dragon from the Never-Ending Story and the lady would dress it in little dog clothes. My favorite was its cheer leading outfit. (I might have a picture somewhere (found it!)) She would leave the radio on all day so the dog wouldn't be lonely while she was at work, but it didn't matter, that dog knew what was up.

I moved out the same day that I finished school and I made a mental note to never live with strangers again.

Daylight Stealing Time

Sunday we started daylight savings time and set the clocks back an hour. It was also my birthday which means I lost an hour of my birthday. So not fair.

It was still a great weekend, with two sushi dinners, an ice cream cake and a confetti cake, and some great little gifts. I couldn't complain about my stolen hour too much because my father-in-law told me that once, when he was in the navy, he missed his whole birthday when his ship crossed over the international dateline. Bummer.

In case anyone is wondering, everything went fine with Uncle Eric visiting. He really is a nice guy, but before he went home he left a book for my in-laws that was titled "Your Wasted Life". (Ouch) And one thing I thought was interesting was when my mother-in-law told him to drive safely, like she always does, he replied with, "Hey, I could be in heaven tonight."

Foot Emergency

I could fill this blog with stories about my old boss, but I have been trying to move on and put my burning hatred for him in the past. I'll just leave this one story for now and you'll just have to take my word for it that he is an evil, evil man.

I got this new job on the same day that I moved to San Diego. In the beginning I was really excited about it, it was a store that I always loved to shop at when I was in town visiting my family on holidays. After about a month of working I got my boyfriend a job there too and he and my boss seemed to hit it off right away.

One day, about an hour after we got there in the morning, my boss (the owner of the store) whispered to my boyfriend, "I have a pain in my foot and I need you to drive me to the hospital." My husband had to tell him that he didn't have a car and I always gave him a ride to work. He offered to call somebody, but my boss said no.

My boss then came to me. I started thinking about the fastest way to the hospital and whether or not I had enough gas in my tank to get there. But, instead of asking me for a ride he just said, "I have to go somewhere, while I'm gone [your boyfriend] is in charge.

All I could think was, "I hope that bastard drives himself into a ditch." Why didn't he ask me for a ride after my boyfriend just told him that I had a car, because I'm a girl? Why did he leave my boyfriend in charge when I have worked here over a month and he was still in training? Dick.

Number 2

I overheard the funniest and most bizarre story today, from a guy in my class, and it would just be selfish of me not to share it.

I was sitting outside my class today, like I always do, watching the shoes go by and eavesdropping on conversations. Guy #1 walks up to his friend and says, "Aww man, I went into the bathroom just now and the broken stall door swung open, like, right in front of me and I saw some random dude taking a dump!" And Guy #2 says, "Just now? Ha ha ha, dude, you know what that reminds me of?" and he just laughs and says, "Yeah, yeah! I know right?"

I was instantly sad that I would never know what it reminded him of, but just in the nick of time Guy #2's girlfriend asks the million dollar question, "I don't get it, what does it remind you of?"

Guy #2: "Oh, well like, senior year, Joel, you know Joel, and I were supposed to go to this award thing because we made the dean's list. Only at the last minute they told me I couldn't get mine because I got on probation. So before we go to this thing we decide to do something crazy, like really crazy-crazy and we went and took a dump in the urinals. So we're squatting there next to each other and just as I'm finishing up I look over at Joel and he had pissed all in his pants, it was like a puddle. I was like, 'dude, what happened' and he was like, 'I guess I forgot to tuck it'. Poor guy forgot to tuck it. Then, because he couldn't go up and get his award thing in front of everybody like that, I had to trade pants with him. So, there I am, walking into the ceremony in my dress shirt, nice shoes and Joel's piss-pants."

Oh. My. GOD! I think I had a small anyurism trying to hold back my laughter. I guess that is true friendship (and the reason I don't have many friends). But, what I don't understand is, how a guy who pissed all over himself while taking a dump in a urinal made the deans list? Amazing, simply amazing.

Married Twice In Three Days

I just found out today that my husband's uncle is going to be staying at his parents house for the entire week. Any other week I would be able to pretend I was so busy with school that I didn't have a chance to visit, but it's my birthday this week, so I will have to go over there for presents and cake and annual awkwardness. This is the same uncle ended up being the pastor at our wedding and nearly made me a bridezilla.

For the record, when we first started planning everything, I asked my husband's parents if one of his uncles (both pastors) could do our wedding and we never got an answer back. I got the feeling that they weren't planning on flying out for the wedding at all, so I just let it go.

We tried my aunt's pastor who was local, but he insisted that we go through the whole marriage counseling process that he and his wife put together. We were kind of prepared for suffering through counseling so we met with them. After asking too many personal questions (and answering them all with lies) they told us that they charge $65 per person and gave us a 10 page questionnaire that we each have to fill out. Yeah, that's not really our style, so we never went back.

Next, we tried a pastor from the phone book. We made the mistake of working out all the details with him before we worked out the price. When we met with him he told us it would be $500 for a 1 hour ceremony. Psh, i don't think so. We told him to take a hike and went into panic mode because our wedding was in about two weeks.

My mother-in-law finally called and talked to one of her brothers. Then she came to us and said, "I know! Uncle Eric could do your wedding!" like it was her idea all of a sudden. I never know what to say when someone does that, but we did need a pastor, so we just went along with it.

Three days before the wedding Uncle Eric told us:

*He wasn't a register pastor in our state. Which ment he couldn't sign the marriage certificate and make thing official.

*Therefore, he wouldn't pronounce us husband and wife in the ceremony since it would be a lie.

*He would only do the ceremony if he could include his favorite bible verses about marriage.

Wow, cue bridezilla freakout.

We ended up going to the courthouse two days before the wedding to get legally married so that I could actually hear the words "I now pronounce you..." on my wedding day. I let the bible verses slide because, while I am not religious, most of the rest of my family is. We never told our guests that we were already technically married before our wedding day.

So, even though everything worked out in the end, I am still not looking forward to seeing Uncle Eric again.

Driving Music

When I was a sophomore in high school my family moved to a nicer neighborhood, you know the kind with sidewalks. The year we moved was also the year that I turned 16, passed my drivers test, and my dad bought me my first car. I was so proud of my car even though it was nothing to look at. It was a used teal Geo that was bought from a police auction, so it was either impounded or used in stakeouts (I always thought that was so cool).

It came with only the basics, manual windows, manual door locks, it didn't even have a mirror on the visor, and a tape player. I hadn't seen a tape player since I was a kid, but I went to the thrift store and bought some tapes for a quarter each. I found some real gems: Creedence Clearwater Revival, Blue Oyster Cult, and Sublime.

I never got to hear the Creedence Clearwater Revival or Blue Oyster Cult tapes because I put Sublime's 40 Ounces To Freedom in and it got stuck in the tape player. For two years I drove around and listened to nothing but that tape. Anyone who asked for a ride quickly found out that was my driving music.

That's actually how I my husband and I started dating. I gave him a ride to all the punk shows around town and he would pay for me to get in. It's a good thing we started dating too because my dad once gave me this advice about meeting guys:

"You should be out there (in our new neighborhood) washing your car every weekend. You might meet some guys. Guys like a girl who wants to take care of her car"

Yeah, because that's the kind of guy I want to meet, some bro with balls on his truck, leaning out the window yelling, "yeaaah, wash it good baby!"

St. Patrick's Day

My husband keeps trying to get me into playing Warcraft with him and so far I have had good luck avoiding it because it runs like shit on my laptop. I have nothing against the game, its just that I'd like to avoid any more hobbies that might become an obsession. I mean, between school, my art, blogging, stumble upon, and my drinking, I just don't think there is enough time in the day.

Today at lunch he let me know that his plans for St. Patrick's Day included getting drunk and showing me how to play Warcraft while we house-sit for his parents. Another reason I have been avoiding it is because he has a group of people that he always plays with. They chat with their microphones the whole time and I just know that I am gonna sound even stupider on the other end of a microphone than I do on the phone.

Whenever I have to make a call to someplace like school or customer service I secretly hope I will get a recording because I get so nervous talking to a real person. Once they even asked me if there was an adult that they could talk to instead. (ouch) What am I supposed to say, "uh, my husband is here?"

Good News and Bads News

Lets start with the bad.

Even when I arrive at school early, I get to class late because I have to drive around looking for a parking space for half hour, then give up and park in the back of the 'rape lot' and walk a quarter mile to the class room.

The good?

I am getting tons of exercise. And probably some pepper spray soon. Fun.

Last Night

My dad somehow fit 3 pieces of left over pizza in one ziplock sandwich bag. I watched him do it and it still makes no sense to me. When I woke up this morning, I had to check the fridge to make sure it wasn't a dream.

Proof

I stumbled upon this game a few days ago and posted the link with my Cat Barbershop post. I love this game because its so simple, yet addicting (like many other things in life; thumb-twiddling, Doritos, black tar heroin). After playing at least 100 times I was convinced that the cat always wins, but this morning the impossible happened. You are looking at a screen shot of proof that I outsmarted a virtual cat, 'beat the computer' if you will. In other words I pretty much did battle and won against a cyborg cat, and that's how this story will be told from now on.

*Cue Queen's We Are The Champions

UPDATE: We had a rematch this afternoon and I won again. This time I clicked every spare dot just to watch the cat run frantically around her little corral as it got smaller and smaller. Muaaah ha haaaa!

Sunday Morning Confessional - Ugly Sweaters and Sushi

I have something to confess. For the last 8 years or so I have only been going to church on Christmas for one reason: to continue the tradition of the ugly sweater contest.

This is a game I play with myself by giving each one I see a ranking in my head. Every now and then I whisper out loud,"we have a winner". Over the years it had grown more complex, with a womens' division, mens' division, childrens' division, elderly division, and best of show. During the sermon I imagine the finalists jogging in a circle, like a dog show. Then, striking their best pose, and I go and pin a giant blue ribbon on the winner. It keeps me from going crazy from listening to each one of the pastor's daughters sing their own version of Silent Night.

But, last year there was a break in tradition, perhaps a new tradition was born. My mom was sick and stayed home so she didn't get everyone else sick, and my dad stayed with her because it was the perfect excuse for him to get out if it. So, it was just my brother and I driving down to my aunt's house. They told us to leave in time to get there by noon so we could all go to church together.

And we did, but we decided to take the 3 hour drive nice and slow. Our plan was to tell them that traffic was really bad and we just couldn't make it in time for church. But, for some reason, even when I have time to kill, I just can't help but to try and make good time. We ended up getting into town early, not late, or even on time. So, what do you do when you have 45 minuted to kill in San Diego?

That was easy, I knew my way around town, so we went to Sushi first at my favorite place. Then, we went walking around the antique stores looking for treasures and just goofing around. And just to be sure we had killed enough time we checked out this awesome reptile store.

New Christmas tradition? I think so.

It Always Sneeks Up On Me

I have a way of always disappointing my mother, even in the smallest way.

Just now:

Mom: What are you making for lunch?

Me: Half a bagel. If you want the other ha-

Mom: Oh sure, thanks!

Me: ...it's in the cupboard.

Like a Crack Whore Loves Crack

On the first day of class one of my teachers had us get into small groups and share a few things about ourselves. He wanted us to say our name, why we are taking the class, and one thing that most people don't know about us. Then he wanted one person from each group to get up in front of the class and introduce the other people.

I had three guys in my group (sausage-fest, i know). There was Tyler, a graphic design major (all but two people in this class are graphic design majors *yawn*) who is into extreme sports. Josh, another graphic design major. And Robert, who "likes art n' stuff, ya know" "loves chicken like a crack whore loves crack," and said that one thing most people don't know is that he is humble.

Robert volunteered to be the one who introduces us to the class. While working his way through the introductions, and practically shouting at the class, he made a freudian slip and declared, "an somethin' nobody likes about Josh, is that he loves to cook."

Oh, god! I laughed out loud, probably harder than I should have, but most of it was pent up from his comment about how much he loves chicken. Only about half the class heard it, kind of disappointing.

Things That Make My Day

(an ongoing list)

Car chases
Drawings by children
Seeing someone shoplifting
Homemade french toast
Stuffed animals
Unexpected sushi lunches
Eavesdropping

Anything But Helpful

Two weeks ago I had an appointment with the academic counselor at school to help me figure out what classes I need to take to get my degree. Five minutes into the appointment he tried to send me away to make an appointment with the transfer counselor even though I told him I wanted to get my A.A. before I transfer anywhere. Dick.

I ended up making that appointment with the transfer counselor, who didn't have any openings for two weeks. With that long of a wait he must be a helpful guy, right? So I waited and yesterday I went over there. I was 3 minuted early for my appointment because there is usually paperwork to fill out. The receptionist is an overly-cheerful, kooky lady whose fashion sense involves a goldfish themed ensemble, including matching necklace, earrings, and shoes. I filled out the required paperwork and waited, and waited and waited. 15 minutes after my half hour meeting was supposed to start he finally decided to see me.

I could tell right away that this guy was weird but the life-sized cardboard cutout of himself in his office told me for sure. I tried to get through the rest of the appointment without anything to awkward happening, but about 5 minutes into my spiel about my career goals he got up and walked behind me to straighten a picture on his wall. I kept talking and two seconds later he got up again because he over-corrected it the first time and had to fix it again.

I should have backed my chair into his groin and left right then, but I don't think strait when I am nervous. The final straw was when he showed me how to google my chosen profession. What an ass.

Cat Barbershop

A few years ago I decided that I wanted a cat, because I remember how much I liked having one as a kid. My childhood cat, named Flower, sat with you when you were sick and she would race us to the mailbox. But my dad is not a big pet person so when I asked about getting a cat again he made it clear that it was out of the question. I decided that if I did get a cat, I would want it to be a very young kitten so that I could take care of it and it would love me even more because it would think that I was its mother. Right.

So the day my boyfriend's sister found a tiny, black and white kitten in the parking lot at her work I thought it was fate. I was out of school and work at the time so I took care of it, staying up all night to bottle feed it every 3 hours. I even had to teach her how to go to the bathroom (eww) since I guess that is not an instinct that a kitten is born with (why, god, why?).

We named her Tessie, after the Dropkick Murphys song, and as she grew up we noticed that she loved to "play". By play I mean draw blood. I know its normal for kittens to play fight, but Tessie was just plain fighting. She also loves to wait around the corner as you come down the hall and jump 3 feet in the air and kick you in the stomach, or sometimes just wave her arms around and scare you. She is about 3 years old now and she has become a big fat grumpy cat. She hates to be touched and even looked at sometimes. The only person she has ever sat with is my dad, ironically, and she has some sort of contempt for my brother, she cant even stand to be in the same room as him.

It is probably because he said one day, "I wish Tessie was nice like Flower was." And I said, "Yeah but remember all the stuff we did to Flower when we were kids? Like when we played 'cat barbershop' and sprayed her with water and tried to comb all her hair in the wrong direction." (Oh yeah, good times) We decided that a little playing around could loosen Tess up a bit and turn her into a nicer cat later on, so we swung her in a blanket like a giant cat hammock and she has been out to seek her revenge on my brother since.

The sad thing is, when I was taking care of baby Tessie Cat I was thinking, "this is great practice for having kids later on". But now, I have vowed not to bring any children into this world as long as there is a chance that they could turn out as evil as Tessie. It scares me that I see so much of my own personality in her.

I found a game that goes perfect with this post. It is so simple, but addicting. And a T-shirt. Enjoy.

The Tycoon

Ok, so I promised that I would tell you about all the weirdos in my classes at school and this guy is by far the number one weirdo. I first noticed him on the first day of class because it was pouring outside and he was wearing a clear plastic cowboy-hat-shaped cover over his cowboy hat. Wow, just wow. This is california by the way, not tex-ass or the south. To make matters worse for this guy he happens to have a lisp and something weird about his wubble-u's. He basically talks like a retarded cartoon character. He is taking engineering classes because he is interested in chemical and nuclear engineering, (shiiit) and I swear to god when the teacher passed around a survey about our career goals he wrote "Tycoon".

To make things even more comical he had a friend who I also gave a nickname: fat sandaled kid. This guy is one dull bulb and wearing shorts and sandals while it was pouring rain/snowing was my first clue. My second was this overheard conversation about our class project where we have to build a box to keep an egg from breaking on a two story fall:

The Tycoon: Now, I wonda, if there might exist an egg that is similar in appearance to a chicken egg, if you will, but with a slightly thicka shell.

Fat Sandaled Kid: like an ostrich egg, maybe...

The Tycoon: Now I don't know if that would be convincin' enough, you see?

The Tycoon: What if we created, or engineered, if you will, our own egg. We could find some strong white material and put some yellow goo inside.

Fat Sandaled Kid: like carve it out of marble or something?

The Tycoon: I recon' that may be a bit on the heavy side. How about thrustas.

Fat Sandaled Kid: yeah...

The Tycoon: The device could use compressed air, not so much that it shoots it up, if you will, but just enough to slow its descent.

Fat Sandaled Kid: i guess

The Tycoon: I'll talk to my friend, who is interviewing at NASA, and see about getting some state of the art materials.

Fat Sandaled Kid: alrighty

The Tycoon: Alrighty indeed.

Cats and Dogs

Today I realized that my fear of dogs doesn't make much sense (unlike my fear of monkeys). I have always had this idea in my head that any dog could turn on me at any minute. Which I am now beginning to think is crazy because I have never been attacked by a dog, I have never even met a mean dog. Sure it would suck to get attacked by a dog (or a monkey) but now I think the odds of it actually happening are pretty slim. Not slim enough for me to walk past a dog without changing sides of the street, but I'm getting better, and these things take time damn it.

I realized how silly this fear was today when I thought about the two cats I have. They are two of the meanest most evil cats I have ever met. These furry little bastards love to do sneak attacks on me and make me bleed on a daily basis. Its a good thing that these two don't get along with each other or I would be in real trouble when they decided to gang up on me. I think they are gradually turning me into a dog person.

Like a Sailor

So, you may not be able to tell yet, but I'm a bit pessimistic. One of those glass-half-empty-and-it-smells-funny-too, kind of people. It really boils down to the type of thoughts that go through my head. I can't help it if I think, "oh, for the love of god, I have to empty the dishwasher again" instead of, "yay, clean dishes!"

But on top of all the negative thoughts going through my head, I have a habit of swearing like a sailor, in my head, to myself. I guess it could happen even if I were more optimistic, it would just sound like, "fuck yeah, clean dishes!" But now, I have gotten so used to it that it has started slipping out in everyday conversations.

It started while driving, of course. I get road-rage (sometimes while I'm not even in my car) and I swear and shake my fist at just about everybody who gets in my way. I started shaking my fist at people because it is slightly less offensive than flipping people off, and you can only flip of so many little old ladies before you start to question yourself. Old people tend to understand the fist shake better, instead of looking shocked most of them shake their fist back. At that point it is a challenge to see who can shake harder. I usually win.

I had a job where I worked with kids, so that kept my swearing habit in line for a while. Instead I would say things like "I don't want to have to give you a warning" and "am I going to have to have a talk with your mom." I even got a 'mom voice'. My boyfriend would say, "why is your voice like that" and I would have to remember that even if I did want to give him a warning, I wasn't at work and didn't have to talk like that.

I don't work with kids anymore, which is a good thing because my swearing habit has really gotten out of hand lately. I made up a rule, when I was a kid, that if we (my brother and I) heard our parents say a swear word, that word was fair game for the rest of the day. I have especially fond memories of exploring every variety of the word 'shit' on the way to school after my mom let one slip when she slammed the cats tail in the car door.

My cousins are just getting to the age where appreciate swear words, so my brother and I taught them the rule and we had one of the crudest Christmases yet. It took my youngest cousin a while to get up the courage but when he did the look on my aunts face was priceless, I have a feeling she is going to be more careful about what slips out.

Shrimp Cocktail and Slow Dances

One of the things that I hate most in the world is when I am unexpectedly reminded of a random embarrassing moment from my childhood. It can turn any ordinary day into a depressing suck-fest in a matter of seconds. I try not to let these memories wander into the forefront of my mind, but sometimes they just sneak up on me.

This particular repressed memory came back to me when I hugged a friend of my brother. As a general rule I avoid hugs all together, but every now and then I think to myself "sure, why not, normal people hug and I'm normal, right". When I should be thinking "nothing but awkwardness can come from this". So we hugged and a wave of awkward embarrassment came over me like it was eight grade all over again. His tall and "kooshy" frame reminded me of the big guy who asked me to slow dance at a friends 14th birthday party.

I was spending the whole night scarfing down shrimp cocktail and specifically trying not to dance by walking around like I was on my way somewhere important, possibly the bathroom. I lost my focus, stopped moving my feet for two seconds and some big guy from the band zeroed in on me like an injured gazelle separated from the herd.

Just as a slow song began to play he walked right towards me and asked me to dance, I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth so I just went with it. Suddenly I could feel my face burning red, luckily no one could see because he pretty much shaded me from the world. When he finally realized that the geometry of it wasn't working out (picture a watermelon and a toothpick on the dance floor) he actually picked me up and danced me around the room like a rag doll.

I can't even remember the rest of the party because all I could do was think "what the fuck was that about" and "why me?". Looking back I know he was just trying to be nice and make me feel included, but I have never been the kind person who worries that no one will talk to them at a party or ask them to dance. I am just glad when nothing mortifying happens.

Back To School

Back To School
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My, Luch Packed Up
My Boots Tied Tight
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Back To School
Back To School

It seems that you can only stay unemployed for so long before your parents won't let you and your husband live in their house for free anymore. Whatever.

So I'm going back to school to prove that my life is still moving in the right direction. So far classes are easy-peasy, but there are a few weirdos in each of my classes. I guess that keeps things interesting. Usually its just the 40+ crowd that feel the need to answer all the professors rhetorical questions. But, this time there are a few gems, like 'the tycoon'. More on him later I promise.

Let's get this party started

Ok, so I finally decided to start this thing up because too many funny/awkward/embarrassing things happen around me, and I can only share the stories so many times before the people close to me tell me to shut the hell up. So I have a blog now where I can let things out, because when I don't, I end up laughing in my sleep. Seriously.

I don't plan on posting regularly, just as I think of stuff. I usually loose interest in something like this after about two weeks, so we'll see how it goes.

To start off, let me just say that I'm more of an introverted person. It takes me a long time to warm up to people, and I am a terrible judge of character. I guess I am just bad at reading people altogether. It is a closely guarded secret that I have a sense of humor.