[Awesome Title Here]

Wheel Alignment Bullshit

2012-03-07T20:45:00.000-05:00

I'm the kind of person that, when the car is making a weird noise, will turn up the radio and pretend it's not there, until such time as the car explodes or something goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tee hee hee. ::blushes::

Whatever.

So, I've had a slow leak in one of my tires for ~~a few weeks... months... ummm~~ some time now, ~~and my dad finally made me~~ and I finally decided to buy new tires. They had a deal, buy three, get one free. I thought this was great.

I was not prepared for the 64 effing dollar *wheel alignment* that will "prevent your tires from wearing unevenly".

For those of you like me who didn't know, there are 3, count 'em, 3 (!!!) types of alignments (according to tirerack.com, whatever the hell that is) and it effects the suspension and steering systems (duh, like I couldn't guess that one on my own).

COME ON, PEEPS. WHAT THE EFF IS THAT BULLSHIT ABOUT?

Honestly, what are they going to do, put my tires on crooked? Wouldn't you think that a wheel alignment would come STANDARD with replacing not one, not two, not three, but ALL the goddamn* tires? Unreal. ~~My dad~~ I just dropped a significant amount of money, and they have to swindle us out of more. That is unreal and unfair, and boy if I were someone else, I would have told them off.

I should write a strongly worded letter.
---
*I should probably stop cursing God, because even though my dad got me a pass, I'm sure it can be taken away.

If you want to know what I'm talking about, check out this post right here.

So then I said...

2012-02-24T17:12:00.003-05:00

I don't really have a whole lot to update because nothing exciting is going on in my life (which isn't really far from the usual, Peeps, as you loyal followers already know). However, in the last few days I've had some great conversations (in person as well as via text) and felt I NEEDED to share them with you.

***
Dad: I'm hungry, but it's Lent. Can't eat meat, it's Friday.
Val: Why do you follow that stupid rule anyway?
Dad: Valerie, it's not stupid.
Val: Your people aren't going to let me into your Heaven, so I'm not following the rules.
Dad: You're going to Heaven.
Val: They don't let my kind in there.
Dad: I got you a pass. You're going.

***

L: I want to be part of a drag show.
Val: You already look like a dude.
L: I know, but it's different.
Val: How is it different?
L: Well, they draw mustaches on you, and side burns.
Val: You. Already. Look. Like. A. Dude. To be part of a drag show, you'd need to wear a dress.
L: I am not wearing a dress; I want to be a drag KING.
Val: That's like going to a masquerade ball and not wearing a mask! Idiot.
L: You just don't understand.
Val: No, you just don't understand that I'm right.
L: Right.

***

Val: Um, I just got tipsy with my uncle and my sister at a bar.
Susie: Um, can I just tell you that I spilled the blue lava lamp juice on the floor... BFF's mom is going to kill me.
Val: OMG.
Susie: I know.
(The next day.)
Susie: BFF and I should become professional carpet cleaners.

***
Missvalsunshine, offending the masses since 1985.

Buttercream Wishes and Piggy Bank Dreams

2012-02-13T20:27:00.002-05:00

Yep -- You read it right. This week Val challenged herself to the small endeavor of learning how to Cake Decorate (along with the help, patience, and guidance of her favorite up-and-coming Cake Decorator, Caroline, owner and proprietor of Cakes by Caroline).

I baked them the night before - I was dedicated!

I carted them wrapped in tinfoil across half the state of NJ and into NY State.

Car doesn't fuck around - she's got tools!

I did the grass. It's not as easy as she made it out to be.

We ended up with a menagerie of Piggy Bank cupcakes (which may or may not have saved my ass from getting many tickets after being pulled over that day) and everyone thought I bought them at the bakery.

Obviously after we were finished, it was time to get silly with the Icing.

Finally, this is how I carted them home... no judging!

All in all, it was an awesome experience, one I'm super excited to replicate again, and it was with an amazing friend with the patience of a saint. <3

Anyone in the Tri-State area wanting or needing a cake should definitely contact Caroline. http://www.facebook.com/Cakes.By.Carolinee

My Heart's a Stereo.

2012-02-01T23:12:00.000-05:00

I dreamed of you last night.

I knew it was a dream the minute I saw what you were wearing: a Yankees hoodie and a Red Sox baseball hat, and in what reality would that ever happen?

Right, I thought not.

You huffed and puffed around some train station parking lot on the way to a game, fuming that your sister invited me along, steam billowing out your ears. My subconscious took a little satisfaction in that, I have to admit.

Even my sleeping brain knows that I'm missing my friend, and the pleasure I used to take in torturing you relentlessly.

You asked me, before our friendship finally deteriorated, why I hadn't yet trashed you on my blog, and I gave you an answer. The truth, though, is not as simple as I had let on, but the context remains the same.

I love you.

You're a pain in the ass. You know it, I know it, and if the rest of the world could know you, they'd know it, too. I've never had any misgivings about the person you are, and you never changed yourself once from the beginning. You came as is.

I love you, and I had from the beginning, though it took until after the end to realize what kind of love it truly was. You were part of my life, maybe not for a long time, but it's quality not quantity, and I have a hole in some kind of part of me that is still empty, because it was one that you used to fill. Was it romantic love, no not really; I think it was more than that. It was knowing that I had an honest friend, a person who I could count on to listen, cheer me up, and laugh with me. It was having someone share my secrets, understand my weird, random, eccentric thoughts and not judge me on them.

You decided that it would be easier (for you, I'm assuming, since you didn't really give me any options whatsoever) if we didn't talk anymore. It killed me. It tore me up inside, because the only person I've wanted to call and talk to is the one who wants nothing to do with me anymore.

I hope this is turning out just how you wanted. I'll miss you, and so you know, I've still never let you down.

Just sayin'.

What the Bleep.

2012-01-25T22:00:00.001-05:00

Kids, what the BLEEP is going on around here?

I have been completely out of sorts for the last month, I realize, but that does not give Blogger the right to go around changing their layout and shit.... That's just rude! I mean, honestly.

I will concede, maybe it's me, but I don't think so. I did have to break up with Google Chrome becauase it was fucking around on the side. Everyday A knows exactly what I mean because she dated Google Chrome before me. You can read about their breakup here.

Anywho -- I thought that I was going to make some things happen in my life and shake things up a bit, but you know what they say about plans, right? If not, well... if you want to see God laugh, tell him your plans. Two weeks ago I applied for a more-than-part-time but less-than-full-time position in Peabody, Massachusetts at the bank. I have pretty much decided that I'm over the tri-state area, and was getting ready to start my life somewhere else. I went so far as to apply, contact the manager of the branch, and set up a skype interview. I was pretty much a phone call away from packing up my entire life and moving out on my own, when all of a sudden the new kid up and quit saying he had to "go back to Equador" or something like that...

So... between someone being fired (which sucked bigtime b/c I love her) and the new kid quitting (which I'm not too broken up over)... they had a few hours to smush together and offer me a full time position! HOORAY! For those of you who have been keeping up with my tragic employment-life this past year, you will know that this is my first full-time job since I was laid off Last April.

Finally, I am starting to feel like a productive member of society again! Even better, I don't *have* to work at Mystery, Inc. anymore... I can work there because I CHOOSE to...

::sighs of relief and high fives everywhere:::

Props to me, Peeps... and here's to hoping for more good things to come.

PS. I've missed you guys... Sorry I disappeared for a while... I seemed to have lost myself... but I think I'm finally coming back. <3

Family Secrets

2012-01-12T13:52:00.000-05:00

Family Secrets

I came down the stairs covered in sweat and dust bunnies. Cleaning out the attic is never pleasant, but more unpleasant is when you offer yourself to your grandmother in a moment of familial guilt at the weekly Friday Night Dinner.

There I was, sitting in at the dining room table after just consuming what some would consider a feast, but my family just considers ‘dinner’, when grandma all of a sudden mentions how she’d like to clean out the attic. The whole family nodded their heads in agreement, all acknowledging that that would be a great idea. What I didn’t notice is one by one everyone made excuses in order to get away from the table and out of Grandma’s line of sight. I was obviously not prepared for this, which is why it’s the next day and I’ve found myself cleaning on a Saturday morning when I’d rather be doing anything else.

The kitchen smelled of chocolate chip pancakes; Grandma’s “I know I suckered you into this project, so I’m at least going to feed you something yummy and hope that you don’t hate me for this.” I tried to dust myself off a little before I crossed the threshold, but I’m sure it was a futile attempt. “Grandma,’ I said, as I walked in and sat at the table, clutching an old piece of paper in my left hand, out of her eye line.

“Yes, dear,” she said as she flipped a pancake on the griddle. She turned to look at me, since I paused a moment to think about what I wanted to say, rather than blurt out something accusatory and/or stupid. She prompted me again. “What is it you wanted?”

“I came across this in map in the attic along with your photo albums from when you and grandpa were first married. It’s in another language. Do you understand it?” I hoped that posing my inquisitions in an innocent way would engage her into telling me the story without actually forcing her to do it. At first, though, I thought I’d blown it, because she turned back toward the stove, let her head hang down a little, and stayed silent for longer than I was comfortable with.

Just as I was about to say something apologetic and banish myself back to the attic, she started to speak. It was low at first, almost like she wasn’t speaking to me, but mumbling to herself. I strained to hear her, sure that she wouldn’t continue if I asked her to repeat herself.

“That map… that ‘treasure’ map,’ she scoffed. “If I had known what that ‘treasure map’ had in store for us, I might not have married your Grandfather. You know we found that map on our honeymoon?” She finally turned to acknowledge that I was still sitting there. Of course I was still there; I was hanging on her every word.

“What you don’t know is that your Grandfather and I were considered an arranged marriage. We knew of each other; our families were the best of friends, an extended family of sorts. Back in Sicily, it was normal to arrange a marriage for a child, to insure that your line would continue and you’d know the sort of people you were getting into bed with, no pun intended. Our marriage was arranged with the idea that Marcello and I would link the families together to create a stronghold of our properties, intimidate the neighbors, that sort of thing.”

These were the lines said in movies! Why was my grandmother telling me stories that correlate to the God Father?

“We went to Spain on our honeymoon. It was so beautiful, but, bella, we didn’t really leave the hotel for two days! Finally on the third day, I told your grandfather that we needed to go out and do touristy things or I was going to make the first year of our marriage a nightmare. He didn’t need much more convincing than that, so we went out and took in the sights. When we came back, there was this map left on the desk in our room.” She shook her head, like she was trying to clear the clouds that fifty years had given her.

The clock struck eleven and the sound of my grandfather’s truck could be heard pulling in the driveway. She turned her head toward the front of the house and a hint of a smile curled upon her lips.

“This is a story for another time, love. Your grandfather’s home. Mind you be getting back up stairs, and put that back where you found it, okay?”

I made my way up the stairs wondering just what kind of life my grandmother had lived before we existed.

***
Thanks for reading everyone!

My Indie Ink Challenge Prompt was dilvered to me by Melissa Brodsky. "You find an old treasure map locked away in your grandparents’ attic." In turn, I challenged Crosshavenharpist with what she would do after she robbed a bank.

This is not a post... Again

2012-01-09T13:03:00.000-05:00

Peeps...

I have officially survived a year cigarette free!

It still sucks, but HOORAY!

That is all.

All Part of the Plan

2012-01-05T17:18:00.001-05:00

"All Part of the Plan"

It was just after dusk and I was cold. I knew I should be scared, but I couldn’t stop noticing how beautiful the swirling police lights looked as they caught the falling snow. Have you ever felt that way? Knowing you should be feeling one way, but unable to help yourself from feeling another certain type of way? I’m sure you have. Haven’t we all? The officer is going on and on to me about something, but I just can’t focus on his monotone drivel when Mother Nature’s beauty is falling all over the place. The snowflakes aren’t just flecks of frozen water; they’re becoming part of me. Each one that falls and lands along my skin becomes a link in the armor, the armor I wear to protect me against the cold, hard realism forced upon me by those who haven’t embraced the Earth’s love. They’re missing out on a beautiful world, a world that they’re blowing right by.

***
It was just after dusk and I was cold. Working overtime holds no appeal for me, but my wife enjoys the payout, as most women do. I’m exhausted, I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone take care of all the human necessities, if you know what I mean. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt that way?

Here I am, just trying to keep myself straight and keep my life in order for my family, and I’ve got nothing to show for it but being overworked and under paid. I’m tired, and I’m stuck here babysittin’ this whiteboy, high as a kite, whose ass I’ve got parked on the curb while I wait for back up. I haven’t had time for a real meal, a shower that lasted longer than four minutes, or some quality time with my wife in God knows how long, though I’m sure she wouldn’t be too receptive to that idea anyway. Women. Can’t live with ‘em, ain’t that what they say? Ah, well.

***

It was just after dusk and they were cold. Unfortunate, really, that they could not see the bigger picture.

Neither of these two understands the ramifications of their actions today, but they are great indeed.

Here we have a junkie who, had this police officer not stopped him for a moving violation, would have caused a four car accident, killing two children, their parents, and inevitably himself.

On the other hand, the police officer who, because he put in overtime to support his family, saved a multitude of lives, just by doing the right thing. Good, too, because it will help him reinforce the promotion coming to him at the end of the month.

Look at the beauty in the world. Look at all I have created. The good and the bad, each working in tandem to create a working masterpiece that anyone would be proud to be a part of.

This is my second week back in the Indie Ink Challege! Yay!

This week my prompt was "I know I should be scared, but I couldn't stop noticing how beautiful the swirling police lights looked as they caught the falling snow", issued by Kurt at Muzzle Diaries. I was fortunate enough to challenge the wonderful Hannah Pratt at The Oh So Unusual Housewife, who really nailed it with a beautiful poem. Check them both out!

100th Post

2011-12-27T22:54:00.000-05:00

Hooray for the Awesome Blog! We made it to 100!

Peeps, my 100th post is dedicated affectionately to you. You are the reason that I write, you, the interweb family who understands and appreciates me, regardless of typos, misdirected anger and resentment, and wordy rants that really have nothing to do with you, but you are subjected to anyway. You are wonderful, just like this Awesome Blog, so let's celebrate!

Just because I think that it would be fitting, let us commemorate this momentous occasion by replaying an interaction that I had this afternoon while on a lunch/errand date with my friend, Cupcake Caroline.

Let me set the scene for you:

Walmart (the bane of my existence).

Rain, pouring down in sheets, and soaking the bottoms of my jeans and my hoodie.

Cupcake and I had just finished purchasing furniture for her and her gf's apartment, and I was waiting under the awning while she went to retrieve the car.

A lady (and I use that term very loosely) came out of the store, but her walk way was blocked by the cart-bringer- back man, so of course she let her impatience be known by huffing and puffing.

She proceeded to gather her bags out of the cart, and pushed her way to the edge of the awning when I realized that she abandoned her cart in the middle of the walk way. I noticed, though, that there was a bag still left in the cart, so I grabbed it and made after her.

Val: Um, excuse me, I think you left something in your cart!

Rude Jerkface: Oh, no, that's garbage!

Val: Are you fucking serious? You couldn't turn to the right and drop it in the garbage can? You're awesome!

Mind you guys, the garbage can was about a foot and a half away from the place where she abandoned her cart. She literally had to turn her body less than a 45 degree angle and extend her arm to deposit the bag into the garbage can, but no, that was too much for her.

I keep trying to stay positive, but I'm losing my faith in humanity.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

2011-12-26T20:01:00.001-05:00

.... Not.

I've been marinating on some of these things for the last couple of weeks, and now I have the time to share them with you fine people. I know that you all will agree, and hope that I won't be considered so much of a "grinch" for sharing these things that piss me off now that it's after "the holidays".

1.) Elf on a Shelf.
This little fucking stuffed elf is Creeptacular with a capital C. Seriously folks, who thought that this was okay? Not only do you have to purchase this shady ass elf doll for $30, but you have to MOVE IT every night for weeks before Christmas, so you can trick your kids into being "nice" until Santa gets to town. This would not make my life easier; this would be a major pain in my ass.

2.) The Reindeer Antlers/Rudolph Nose on cars.
Don't you people have to open your windows ever? What is the damn point of turning your SUV into a fictional reindeer? You look stupid and you make me want to vomit*. You people with the wreaths on your grills, you make me kinda sick, too.

3.) Charity Ask-For-Your-Change People
Okay, taken the wrong way, and this could make me a douche; however, when I go to the store, I don't want to come out and feel accosted by someone for my change. If I have change, I will give it to you, I promise, but don't shake your bell at me and make me feel guilty because you've said "Merry Christmas" with that begging-like-inflection that makes me feel like a scum bag because I used my debit card since I didn't have any cash, and therefore have no change to give you.

Also, the charities near my house are getting more and more crafty with their guilt-inducing-askers... since they're using paraplegics and handicapped people who can't walk/talk/do anything but blink... an interesting development. This pulls on my heartstrings, and I don't like it. I don't want to feel guilted into giving you money. I want to do it out of the goodness of my heart.

4.) Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas".
Enough said, amirite?

What pisses you off during the holidays? What are you glad to see over, gone until this time next year?

"Undiscovered"

2011-12-21T12:56:00.000-05:00

This is my first week back to Indie Ink, and I must say, I am definitely feeling a bit rusty. Thanks a big bunch to My Plaid Pants, Runaway Sentence, and Alyssagoesbang for dragging my ass back into the swing of things. Without further ado, here goes nothing...

"Undiscovered"

She was sitting perched on the bed when I found her in our bedroom, holding a plain white envelope, with tears in her eyes. I wondered what she had in the envelope to make her cry, and realized just a minute too late that I already knew. Inside that envelope was the story of us; our past, present, and future.

She looked up at me, and the range of emotions on her face was frightening. There was shock, pain, sadness, confusion, betrayal, and more that I couldn’t even begin to name. The glare coming from her eyes was enough to kill.

“Chris,” she started, slowly.

“I know. I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say.

“That’s all you have to say, is ‘I’m sorry’?” So much for starting slowly.

“I…”

“What are you sorry for? Are you sorry for the fact that I just found this accidentally? Are you sorry for the fact that you got caught? Or are you sorry for breaking my heart?”

I could only stand there as she shoved these rhetorical questions down my throat like poison. The taste in my mouth made me want to vomit, but how could I explain to her that I was just doing this for us? I couldn’t. She wouldn’t ever understand. She is the girl of my dreams, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and for some reason she likes me, too, but this would ruin us, I just know it.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you. You deserve to know the truth.”

She just looked at me, looked through me, as if I wasn’t really there anymore.

“Chris, I can’t believe you could keep something this huge from me. You had a child.”

Yeah, I had a child. I had a baby, the product of a rape, and an unfortunate reminder of the cretin who invaded my life forever in the span of twenty agonizing minutes.

“Sarah, I just can’t talk about it. I couldn’t talk about it, even with you.” I closed my eyes and silently prayed to whatever higher being was out there that she would forgive me and understand.

You see, since we’d been trying to get pregnant, I told her that I wasn’t able to have children.

I lied.

***

This week for the Indie Ink challenge, I was given “You come across an old envelope from your past. What is inside?” by GUS. I challenged Billy Flynn with "You're in a funk; how do you get out of it?". Check out his response *here*.

Ain't no Sunshine

2011-12-10T00:02:00.000-05:00

Want to know how to spell “livid”?

V-a-l-e-r-i-e.

Yeah, I know it’s been a long time since Sunshine has been hindered by storm clouds, but it’s been one of those days. I am just to the point where, aside from a select few, I want to scream from the rooftops, “you can all kiss my ass.” (Not you, interweblings, you’re all wonderful.)

But seriously, tonight is one of those nights where I wish I was an anonymous blogger. Granted that not many of my personal friends and family are actively reading this blog, but some have been known to frequent it, or know people who frequent it… so I can’t really say what I want to say specifically to just vent it all out. Ya get me?

However, if I could, it would look something like this:

If I could actively hate another human being, it would be you. I would love nothing more than to turn my hatred for you into a physical event, like cow tipping or archery. I despise you and everything that you pretend to stand for. You are nothing, nothing to me, and nothing to everyone else.

You are the antithesis of everything I am trying to be; you are a diseased leech and a parasite, both to society and to people I love. I’ve watched you abuse more than enough people to realize that you are not a good human being or friend. You take what you want, like a bully, and leave nothing but chaos, destruction, and pain in your path. You are a terrorist in every sense of the word.

Go away. Go find some other people to harass. You gush, spew, and name-drop like it was going out of style, and you create these stories that make you larger than life, so go find yourself with these fictional characters and live in your fantasy world where you are King. I’m sure you’ll like it there, filled with your ‘subjects’ who will bow down to you, kiss your feet like you think you deserve, and tell you over and over again how wonderful you are.

I just hope that when you break your word and your promises to them, that they overthrow you easily like the nothing that you are, and treat you like the fool you deserve to look like. I’d say I wish you well, but that’d be a lie.

Yeah, Peeps, it’s been one of those days.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2011-12-05T00:32:00.000-05:00

Yes, you read correctly, I am officially a year older. Woot.

The powers that be proudly graced the world with my presence 26 years ago, and I have been bringing joy, laughter, and sarcasm (when I was old enough to appreciate the skill) ever since. A big thank you goes out to my parents... dad, I'm sure, has no idea this blog even exists, let alone that he sometimes makes a cameo... and a big shout out to mother dearest "up there" ::looks up and tilts head:: if you can grasp this, props to you.

Yeah, my mom deserves a big thank you. You see, when I was occupying her uterus, I almost killed her. Not like a euphemism or anything, but I legitimately almost killed her.

She liked to regale me with the story of my birth, and those few months leading up to it, every year the day before my birthday, at which times she would appropriately tell me what she was feeling at the hour that corresponded to way back then. I have to say, I really miss hearing her tell me that story... but if she were here, I'd probably tell her to shut up and that I knew it all already, and to stop embarrassing me. Go figure.

This year I didn't really plan anything for the celebration of my birth. You see, up until two weeks before, I didn't even know what day my birthday was going to fall on.

Well, while trying to make some plans happen out of nowhere, it seemed that everything was going to fall apart. The girlfriend was going to come in from East Bumble, Pennsylvania, but her car was in the shop. I thought I was going to have a party at Tito and Secret Fav's new apartment, but that fell through. I ended up working until 8:15pm, so no real fun during the day.

I managed to wrangle up my two best friends Kat and Susie, and my sister, and told them we were going to go for dinner. The girlfriend called me at 7am on the morning of my birthday and said that she'd fallen off of a ladder and thought she'd torn her ACL. She was going to come and surprise me, because even though her car was in the shop, she'd worked something out with her sister. Well, she can't drive with a fucked up knee so she wasn't coming, so I spent the better part of my day trying to console her on the fact that I wasn't upset, and we'd be able to celebrate together some other time, and that she shouldn't be sad -- I did this, via text, from the afternoon up until it was time for me to go to dinner w/ the peeps.

What happened next, you might wonder?

My best friend in the whole entire world drove all the way to East Bumble, PA to pick up my girlfriend and bring her to dinner (surprising me) just so that I could see her, bum leg and all.

Pick your jaws up off of the floor, please.

I know, right! How awesome is that??! I have the best Best Friend in the entire world, and I have the best Girlfriend in the entire world.

I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present.

Cake = Yum.

Best Surprise Ever.

Jax, Me, Susie and Kat.

A Different Sort of Post

2011-11-23T14:04:00.000-05:00

This is a different sort of post. I'm just going to write and try not to hit the backspace button, like I usually do. I love everyone who reads this, and hopefully you all love me back, so you won't judge me for this written-word-vomit that I'm going to dish out to you all.

What is it about Thanksgiving that makes everyone all self-reflective and internal? I'm not sure. Maybe it's the whole 'being thankful' thing, and having to take the time to think about what we're all really thankful for? Maybe it's the fact that we spend so much time trying to avoid what we really want, and are really happy for, and just keep going on with the lame and mundane? Who knows.

These last couple days of mine have been a whirlwind, that's for damn sure. I can't even begin to explain all the emotions I'm feeling, but I have realized a few things about myself. My fears are more than I even knew. My fear of intimacy. My fear of rejection. My fear of embarrassing myself. For someone who always thinks she's so self-assured, I'm really fucked up.

Don't worry, I'm still awesome. We all know it.

I know it's not resolution time yet, but there are still things I hope for. I hope to be braver. I hope to be more secure in myself. I hope to be able to tell people how I feel, instead of just hoping they'll know. I hope to be able to say exactly what I want to say without fear of consequence. I hope to be able to control my verbal vocabulary as well as I can control my written vocabulary, and use it, instead of just looking like a goof.

Don't get me wrong, I like being a goof. I just wish I had more confidence, I guess.

I don't know where I'm going with all this. I'm just trying something new and filling a blank page, something else that gives me anxiety. I need to stop pressuring myself to always have the right thing to say right off the bat, or to be perfect all the time. I'll get it, I know I will.... I just need to allow myself to get there.

PS. This is the one year anniversary of my blog. Yay for me :)
(I don't know the exact date; I just know that it was around Thanksgiving, because my first post was about the family asking me "What are you going to do with your life?"... to which, I still have no clue. No pressure though.)

Thanks for listening, Peeps.

I Made That.

2011-11-17T09:03:00.001-05:00

Ladies and gentleman, lend me your ears (or eyes, as it were), for I have the best story to tell you all!

Last night, as I was sitting in the Drive-Thru, my work computer asked me to change my password for one of the many that I am responsible for... Pretty normal.

No problem, right? Wrong.

The problem lies in the fact that in order to write down my password, I needed a pencil so that when the time comes that I have to change it again, I can just erase and be on my merry way. Well, I found a pencil, but was lacking a pencil sharpener. This is a serious problem, only second to "which is worse: having a cigarette with no lighter, or a lighter with no cigarette?".

I sat staring at my blunt pencil for a few minutes when it came to me... I could totally sharpen it into a point.

Well, the man that I closed with yesterday was not one of our dysfunctional family, so he isn't really used to my shenanigans. He's very subdued, with a quirky look to him which makes me feel like he's a time-traveler from the sixties. He had this Mad Men look about him, and wore the thickest glasses that I've ever seen. I actually told him that I thought they were thicker than bullet proof glass, which led to an explanation about cost vs. thickness that I didn't really care for and ignored.

I think Creepy was very surprised to see my creative side. Actually, what he said when he saw what I was up to was, "Wow, that is some of the ghetto-est shit I've ever seen. Pardon my language." Verbatim. I wanted to say, well, you've never seen what I've had to do to get my car to stay together, because this is nothing.

What I did, folks, is take a knife out of our kitchen drawer and WHITTLE the pencil into a point.

How ingenious is that?

As I shared my ordeal with Arnold, who I tell all my stupid thoughts to, I felt pretty damn proud of myself. I thought to myself, "Damn, Val. You could totally survive in the wild. Bear Grylls has nothing on you." I felt like I was climbing the lesbian-ladder, because as we all know I'm terrible at fixing things properly or doing anything remotely involved with technology, so the fact that I thought this up all on my own was pleasantly surprising.

Especially after my last lesbian ordeal with the toilet seats... but that is a story for another time.

Keep laughing, keep smiling. Just go with it. <3

November Update

2011-11-13T23:46:00.000-05:00

The last few ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ months have kept me a busy girl.

Between Mother Nature and her PMS, both my jobs, and my malnourished and somewhat neglected social life, I haven't had a lot of time to write, and nothing, in fact, to write about. This makes Sunshine a lame girl.

The only things I really have to report are:
*Bruises, origins unknown, are making appearances on my extremities
*I have my first Friday night off from Mystery, Inc. coming up this week and I'm goin' dancin with my peeps.
*I miss being in school. I corrected Manda's paper today and I really missed writing papers. This makes me a dork. Also, I wish I would have planned out a NaNoWriMo project. I feel pretty lame about that.
*I went to the Jets game not too long ago against San Diego, and Man that was some good stuff. I love watching the Jets (even if they're losing, like they are right now to the goddamn Pats). I made friends with the guy behind me, too. He liked me because I screamed down at the field like they could hear me from the nosebleed section, just like he was.... He let me wear his helmet. <3

Mother Nature, thou art a heartless bitch.

2011-11-03T09:49:00.000-04:00

2011 is definitely not the North East's year, that's for sure.

First, Hurricane Irene came in and took out her pms on us, then the Earthquake that rocked the East from Virginia to Connecticut (which I am STILL mad that I didn't feel, but that's another story), and now the freak snow storm before Halloween.

Mother Nature really needs to get her shit together.

In the words of my cousin, who put a bus on our street?!

Mother Nature granted us with over a foot of snow in a freak snow storm that caused more destruction than the Hurricane back in August. I have never seen so many trees broken, snapped in half, destroyed, in my entire life. It looks as if God himself came down from the Heavens and snapped every single one in half like a toothpick.

It's unreal.

This telephone pole (with what I can assume is a transformer, though it didn't speak to me like Optimus Prime) just hung out in the middle of the street for a few days. It was tired of standing straight up and needed a vacation.

Then, even better, as we were trying to get out of our neighborhood, we saw this gem. Maybe it's time for the sprinklers to be shut off for the year... I'm pretty sure the snow doesn't need to be watered.

The best part of the whole thing? I got to make this for someone :)

The Next Great Adventure

2011-10-22T09:33:00.000-04:00

Big news, Peeps.

This week, I made a life decision, which could either turn out to be amazing, adventurous, wonderful, and life changing, or it could turn out to be monumentally disastrous and an epic fail.

For those of you that know me, or are at least familiar with me, or have at least read the “about me” on the right side of this page, you’ll see that I am a Boston Red Sox fan ‘trapped’ by life’s circumstance (and the fact that I was born and raised here) in, let’s face it, Yankee country.

Well, that is about to change, my friends.

This week I applied for a job in Boston, Massachusetts.

(One that I am likely to get, btw. I wouldn’t put this out there without you guys thinking that it was just a whim.)

I’m not even going to lie a little, I am a scared mess right now. Honestly, if I were a caricature, I’d be the tiny little Chihuahua teetering on the brink of a nervous break down, backed up into a corner and nervously peering from side to side. Everyone keeps saying that I should be excited, and this is going to be an adventure, and what I’ve always dreamed of doing, and I am, don’t get me wrong, but with that excitement comes the nervous-I’m-going-to-vomit feeling and doubt.

What if I can’t do it?

What if I fail?

I’m terrified of failing, ending up homeless and living on a bench in Boston Common. What would I even do? I would be pitiful. Thankfully, my friend live there and I hope hope hope that they wouldn’t let me become destitute and a bum, (how would I write the Awesome Blog?!?!?!?!?!?!) but you never know.

I would love to hear from any of you who’ve ever decided to just up and move away from everyone and everything you’ve ever known. Do you have a success story? How about an epic fail?

Mystery, Inc.

2011-10-17T11:22:00.000-04:00

This is really a short post that goes out to my Mystery, Inc. buddies.

Recently, I've discovered how much I despise going to work, so much so that I sit in my car before I get there, look up at the big white letters that spell out our name, and physically try to convince myself to get out of the car and go punch in.

Sometimes, though, I am surprised with small moments of deja vu, which reminds me why I really enjoyed working here in the first place. My co-workers are a bunch of characters, and not just the cafe family:

Me - obviously.
Meggles - The socially awkward, but totally lovable, panicky dork.
Kymiah Dawson - The sheriff of these here parts, with her pink badge. Love her guts.
SuperD*ve - Crazy ~~Asian~~ Pacific Islander.
Merejiah - I partially despise, and partially idolize.
Nai - My Friday Night buddy who is always rushing me out because "I need to get down to Rutgers."

Plus all the secondary characters like Music, the rest of the Managers, and the occasional comments from the cash wrap area like "Sunshine, maybe the announcements are better left to the professionals."

::shakes my head::

I hate going to work, but I love my crew. They make it bearable.

Nia - Will Work for Beer!

Merejiah - Will commit evil deeds for $
>:-)

Thanks, guys. <3

Sunshine... Queen of India.

2011-10-11T11:02:00.000-04:00

Well, Peeps. Maybe my time here on the interwebs has come to an end.

The other morning I had to stop for gas before making the ardous trek to work. I really despise getting gas in the morning because aside from the fact that I AM SO NOT A MORNING PERSON, there comes the part where I am still not in touch with my vocabulary *and* my morning coffee, so I am like half-a-Sunshine.

I roll up to the pump and smile like I always do to the station attendant, because lets face it, most people aren't very nice to the gas station people. They're always treated with disrespect and never told to 'have a nice day' or given a 'thank you' so I try to make sure I'm polite, gracious, and friendly.

I guess I'm too friendly.

The man at the gas station down the street from my house has lately been asking me a lot of personal questions like 'where do you live', 'are you in school', 'where do you work', etc. Well, this most recent trip to the gas station he asked me whether I was married and/or had any children. I told him definitely not. I am WAY too young for marriage. He laughed and asked if I had a boyfriend.

I said not really. I was hoping to just drive away and leave, but he wouldn't stop! "You don't get along very well?"

:::Gives the deadpan stare:::

Ummm. Right! Well, call me a horrible lesbian, but I just went along with it. It's not like its so easy to tell an older Indian man who gives my car the breath of life once a week that I think boys are icky, I mean come on!

(I am laughing as I type this right now.)

I said something like 'I'm just looking for the right one... A good one.'
He said 'I am looking for a good girl, too.'

I'm pretty sure that was a proposition. I immediately made my way out of there as fast as possible, and was creeped beyond belief, but on further reflection (and talking with my favorite jewrican), I have decided that we are in a recession and I should be ashamed of myself! Maybe he's a King in India or something?! So, as of now, I will be planning my wedding and my future as royalty... maybe.

Or maybe not.

Crown Jewels

2011-10-10T10:11:00.001-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen.... oh, who am I kidding, Peeps, we're not that classy around here. This is what's goin' down: Someone thinks I'm a "Kreativ Blogger" and I deserve pretty, shiny, picturey awards!

The rules of this bad boy are to share seven random things about myself, answer some [personal, or not so since I blog about almost everything] questions, and pass it around, woot!

Share 7 random things about myself:

-I love country music. I can totally get down to Rascal Flatts, Dixie Chicks, and Garth Brooks.

-I do NOT like chocolate sprinkles. If I go for sprinkles, it's gotta be rainbow.

-I am full of astronomical trivia. I can tell you why the sky is blue.

-I like peach snapple, but I don't like peaches, and I do like nectarines.

-Sometimes, when I pull up to the big white lines that go across the road, I feel like Paul Walker from Fast and the Furious.

-My left hand is numb right now.

-My eye twitches when I get stressed out.

Answer the following questions:

Fav. Color: Yellow.

Fav. Song: Right now, it's "Stereo Hearts" by Gym Class Heroes

Fav. Dessert: Pecan Pie

Biggest Pet Peeve: Being Interrupted.

When you are upset you: keep it in until I can't handle it anymore, then vent at anyone in the vicinity.

Fav. Pet: Dogs

Black or white: Yellow.

Biggest Fear: Animals that Fly

Best Feature: My eyes

Every attitude: I don't know that this means.

What is perfection?: Seeing the flaws and looking past them.

Guilty Pleasure: Cheesy romance movies and Disney movies.

I am going to pass this along to my most favorite poet ever, Runaway Sentence, who does amazing things with words.

Thank you very much, miss Ashley at She Who Will Be Tamed, for taking the time to think I am worthy of such fabulousness. You're great!

Transcontinental Cupid?

2011-09-28T16:50:00.001-04:00

This might be one of the best spam emails I've ever received. I'm not sure whether this letter is supposed to be a cry for help or something of flirtatious nature. Either way, she's a lesbian, and my charm is OBVIOUSLY reaching across cultural barriers.

Dearest One.

Thanks for the opportunity to be your friend,I know this mail will come to you as a surprise since we have not meet or had a previous correspondence, please bear with me. I will really like to have a good relationship with you. I have a special reason why I decided to contact you.

I decided to contact you because of the urgency of my situation here ,I am Ms Fati Mbogo Edwards 25 years old girl from Liberia the only daughter of Late Dr ,Mbogo Edwards the deputy minister of national security under the leadership of president Charles Taylor who is now in exile after many innocent soul were killed ,My father was killed by government of Charles Taylor ,he accuse my father of coup attempt.

I am constrained to contact you because of the maltreatment I, am receiving from my step mother. She planned to take away all my late father's treasury and properties from me since the unexpected death of my beloved Father.

Meanwhile I wanted to escape to the Europe but she hide away my international passport and other valuable travelling documents. Luckily she did not discover where I kept my father’s File which contains important documents. I decided to run to the refegee camp where I am presently seeking asylum under the United Nations High Commission for the Refegee here in ougadugou,Republic of Burkinafaso.I wish to contact you personally for a long term business relationship and investment assistance in your Country.

My father of blessed memory deposited the sum of US$6,500, 000.00 in Bank with my name as the next of kin. However, I shall forward you with the necessay documents on confirmation of your acceptance to assist me for the transfer and investment of the fund in your country,As you will help me in an invsetment, and i will like to complete my studies, as i was in my fist year in the university, when the crisis started.

It is my intention to compensate you with 20% of the total money for your services and the balance shall be my investment capital. This is the reason why I decided to contact you. Please all communications should be through this email address only for confidential purposes.

As soon as I receive your positive response showing your interest I will put things into action immediately. In the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent message indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction sincerely. iam staying at the female hostel.

Awaiting your urgent and positive response. Please do keep this only to your self please i beg you not to disclose it till i come over , once the fund has been transfered,

Yours Fati

Amazing.

Seriously?

2011-09-25T23:07:00.002-04:00

I am technologically inept, and therefore cannot figure out how to turn this picture the way it's supposed to be, so I'm going to need you Peeps to tilt your heads to the right to see this how I've intended it to be seen.

Really, ladies?

Someone really took the time to shove toilet paper between the gap of the Handicap Stall. If you're really afraid that someone is going to peer in at you, maybe you should rethink your use of public facilities.

Duh.

Where in God's name is my tiara!

2011-09-20T21:17:00.000-04:00

I got another award!

Alyssa at Alyssagoesbang has decreed that she digs my blog and has let her little niche of the interwebs know it! I couldn't be more thrilled right now, mostly for the fact that I love attention. I'm a shameless attention whore. Woot!

Always with this stuff comes rules -- I don't like rules, but I follow them (sorta).

*~~Brag...~~ Accept this Award.
*Thank the person who bestowed it upon you.
*Post 3 Facts about yourself (Alyssa says "interesting facts" but everything about me is interesting... just sayin').
*Pass this award out to 5 blogs you dig, and tell them about it.

So, here we are, celebrating my ~~success, validation, propensity to be crazy and judgmental~~ humility, so this is where I put down my three (interesting) facts about myself...

1.) I have to end every sentence in a punctuation of some sort. If there is a sentence left hanging open, it gives me anxiety. It must be the English major in me.

2.) My favorite food in the entire world is cheese fries. I could eat and enjoy them every single day of my life and not get tired of it. Honestly, I could even tell you my dream plate of cheese fries (though I'd hope to be able to change it up once in a while): Steak fries, crispy, golden brown, sprinkled with salt, pepper, and grated cheese and layered with American and Pepperjack Cheese. Oh my good God, I am salivating right now.

3.) If you couldn't already tell, I'm an attention whore - therefore, I do not like hearing anything about Christmas until December 3rd, because my birthday is December 2nd, and in my eyes (and more importantly, should be everyone else's) it is a holiday all its own. (If you want to give me gifts this year, my email address is ConnorsV1@gmail.com, we'll talk :p). No Christmas talk until after my birthday!

Now - to do something that I am not so good at, but am learning, I am passing this on to others! Look at me, sharing! My friends would be so proud.

Mz. Sugar Free - She's so badass, it's amazing.
Everyday A - Even though she took a respite from blogging during the summer, she's so quirky, I've got a crush on her.
Dr. Cynicism - His classes inspire me. You need to take his class.
Miss Sassy Pants - A new favorite place that I like to creep. :) She has chickens and does ride-alongs with the police.
Seriously?? Really? Seriously?? - She is wonderful and will have you laughing your asses off while also simultaneously saying, did that really happen?

Go forth, and spread the love as I have had it spread upon me... or something.

Get your minds out of the gutter.

Laundry Rant, Part Deux

2011-09-15T21:25:00.000-04:00

Peeps, I had to hit the Laundromat again today, and rather go to the place that made me want to jam needles in my eye, I opted for driving a little further in the opposite direction and headed to scope out a different laundromat called U-Wash Laundromat, circa 1976.

(Not as creative as Rub-A-Dub Laundromat, but my twenty-dollars-a-load probably went to buy the goddamn Sonny and Cher nameplates, and I wasn’t looking to invest in the new one for Barbie.)

First, the laundromat wasn’t where I thought it was supposed to be, so I ended up driving away from it at first… I know what you’re thinking, that’s my fault and yeah you’re right. However, this wouldn’t be a rant if I blamed myself for something right? Right. When I found it, I hopped out of the Elantra and meandered my way inside, trying to scope the place out. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake of going unprepared. Immediately I knew that it was not going to be the same experience I had at the Millionaire’s Laundromat.

First of all, there were no people speaking in Spanish (presumably about me) and looking over their shoulder. I always think people speaking a different language in front of me are speaking about me, especially when I go get my eyebrowns waxed at the mall by the Vietnamese women at the nail salon – they ALWAYS seem to be talking about me.

The only person who happened to be using the laundromat facilities was an older gentleman wearing an ill-fitted Giants’ tee shirt. Seeing him, I knew I’d be able to take him if things got a little rowdy. I walked in and searched to see if I had to buy the damn card here, too, but alas, they rely on good old American quarters. Too bad I sold mine back to the damn bank after looking like a fool earlier in the week.

Secondly, none of the machines had name tags! I was in a normal laundromat. Success.

However, there was this one machine that looked like a toilet… it even had water pooled inside of it and looked like it had a toilet seat. I was grossed out.

Thankfully, doing laundry at this place was MUCH cheaper than doing it over at the Millionaire's Club -- it only cost me about 5 bucks to do my load of laundry. They weren't TOO bright, though, because I found a sign that said this:

What in God's name did they sell in that machine if it wasn't soap?

Rant. Be prepared.

2011-09-12T21:31:00.002-04:00

Our washing machine broke, so logically I thought, Hey, I'll go to the laundromat and clean my clothes. I'll be able to get more wash done there than I ever do at home, and it really shouldn't be all that expensive because I'll bring my own laundry detergent. Success!

No. I can't even believe all the capitalist bullshit that there is at the laundromat. I'm going to spell it out for you, because you people need to know this, too, so that you're forewarned. THEY ARE RIPPING PEOPLE OFF!

Firstly, I need you all to know that I went to the laundromat a prepared little girl. I purchased a roll of quarters from the bank before I went over, thinking I'd be ready and there'd be no surprises, ya know? I'd get there, put all my clothes into a few different machines, and pop my little quarters in the machines and let them be on their merry way.

No. Of course not. It couldn't POSSIBLY be that simple, could it? No. I showed up and heaved my gigantic-ass laundry basket out of my car and into the building and stuff a load into one of the washers. I pour my detergent into the machine and look to the front to load my quarters when I notice there is NO SPOT TO PUT IN CHANGE.

What they want you to do at the lovely Rub-A-Dub Laundromat is to PURCHASE A FUCKING PLASTIC DEBIT CARD TYPE THING for three dollars out of a machine to then load with money to put in the washers and dryers. They don't tell you that the machine only accepts five dollar bills and that you can't get the money off of it once you've put it on unless you find a (non-existent) manager or put your card in an envelope and drop it down a mail slot so they can "send you a check" in the mail.

Yeah, okay. I really believe that you're going to send me my $5.95 check. Santa's coming to vacation with me, too.

I look and there is a digitized sign and slot that tells me how much it's going to cost me to do this goddamn load:

Good Friggin' God.

Almost 7 FRIGGIN DOLLARS to wash my clothes? Per Load!

Oh no. Since that was the case, I shoved every single piece of clothing that I brought with me into a 55-gallon washing machine and figured I was only gonna pay almost-seven-dollars once, and I was gonna get the most out of it, and they can go fuck themselves with their seven dollars.

Even better was that they all had names. The machines had NAMES. My dryer was....

Yoko

Of course, Yoko had to be near John. Of course.

Who the hell decided that names on the washers and dryers were a good idea. There could be numbers, there could be letters, there could be color-coded sections. Those plastic little name tags that are tagged onto the machines are probably why the prices are jacked up. Even better was that I must have been in the couples section, where fate and serendipity and whatever-the-hell-else there is out there could rub my singularity down my throat once more, as if I didn't get it enough in life. Yoko and John were together, and were next to Ken and ____ (which I could only assume was Barbie, but the name tag was popped off) and Sonny and Cher.

I can't believe it.

DMV - A (semi) fictional tale

2011-09-09T21:35:00.000-04:00

Okay, Peeps, if anyone cares, I posted (about half an hour ago) whether anyone would be interested in reading my creative writing shii---stuff from last year. Of COURSE Maid Marian immediately said yes, so for her viewing pleasure and yours, here is the first installment of my ridiculousness that was actually submitted to a professor at MSU. (Sort of embarassing, I must admit, but whatev.)

DMV

Saturday afternoon is finally here, but do you think I’m going to be able to relax? No. It’s possibly the worst day to be stuck at DMV. Division of Motor Vehicle. It should really stand for Death of My Vacation. Stupid registration. How was I supposed to know that it was expired? “Maybe you should have looked at it once or twice,” said the cop. Stupid pig. He’s right. This is my fault. I’m not admitting that to anyone, though.

Could the old lady behind the counter take any longer? What’s the deal, twenty minutes minimum? They should have a fast-food-drive-thru for DMV. 3 minutes or less, or your registration is free. I think her hair is getting progressively grayer by the minute. I know mine is. If DMV is anything like working in the post office, I’m not surprised people say “He went postal!”. I’d kill myself if I had to be here every day, by choice. Jesus. And it’s not like they have comfortable seating, oh no. I get the privilege to stand behind Mr. Smells-Like-Old-Bleu-Cheese while he fans himself, aren’t I lucky?

Oh good, the line moved a fraction of an inch forward. I can actually read the old bat’s name tag. Noreen (with a smiley face). Just wonderful, I’m one step closer to acknowledging the poly-dent that’s crusting over her pricy porcelain pincers. I’m sure by the time I get to the front of the line, she’ll have decayed into a pile of ashes, and I’ll be forced to the back of another ridiculous line until I, too, start to decay.

Ya know what really bothers me? The scenery. This place is God-Awful boring and I feel like I’m in jail. The least they could do, since they keep everyone here for hours, is to paint the walls something other than dull, depressing, gun metal gray. Honestly, how could they stand to be here for 8 hours a day? I’d kill myself after a day or two of this.

Okay, I’m next. Thank God. Maybe I’ll be out of here before the sun goes down. You can bet your ass I’ll never be late with my registration again… I hope. That’s a bullshit technicality anyway. Once your car is registered it should stay registered. Why do you have to renew it every friggin year? I obviously still own the car, I still pay insurance on it, why do I have to get it registered? Previous registration should count. If not, it should be called “re-registration”.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Death-Warmed-Over said. “Yes, ma’am. I need to update my registration. It expired,” I’m trying to be polite. “Ok,” she said, “just sign this, give me $45 and you’re on your way.” I look at her, stunned. You mean this is all I have to do? Just sign a piece of paper and hand over some money? I had to wait over an hour for thirty seconds of polite conversation? Un-fucking-believable.

Discovery

2011-09-09T21:00:00.000-04:00

Kids, I've had sort of an A-Ha moment.

This afternoon while going through a lot of the stuff that I hoard in my room (a-la pack-rat-syndrome) and I came across my notebook/journal/scratch pad from the creative writing class that I took in my last semester of college almost a year ago.

I gotta say, I am pretty freakin' impressed with my skillz right now :)

I was wondering -- would anyone be interested in reading them? I was thinking about posting them up to the awesome blog... ok, discuss amongst ya'selves. <3

"What A Week"

2011-09-07T21:36:00.002-04:00

"What A Week"
Sunday night, chit chat,
Empty promises,
"Baby, I miss you"'s, and all that.
Lost on Monday, missing Tuesday,
“What’s your schedule like?" on Wednesday.
Thursdays come and go, solo,
And I got my hopes up again for a no show.
Friday, I start to forget your name.
Saturday is much the same.
Slowly built up, but quickly let down,
It’s pretty pathetic I know the routine now.
All I wanted was some attention,
But you don't even deserve honorable mention.

Critical Alert

2011-09-05T20:05:00.000-04:00

We are at code orange, or whatever the almost highest-level of alert is...

I need a hug.

Oh, yes, Peeps. It's serious if I'm posting this shit on the awesome blog. I'll tell you what happened and my story, and you kids can let me know if I'm just a big loser or if this happens to other people, too. Also, I'm giving my gentlemanpeeps fair warning that I'm going to be talking about "female issues" in this post, and not that I am encouraging post-skipping, I understand the levels of discomfort that boys have on this topic. I feel a warning is very polite. Okay, onto my issues.

Saturday started off as a good day. Not a whole lot going on in the office, working with a cool bunch of peoples, we're laughing and having a good time, but all of a sudden it was like someone flipped my switch and I went from Happy Val to Moody Blues Val. I couldn't rationalize it. I just knew that I was miserable and that I needed to get happy asap.

I left job #1 and went to job #2 and hoped that during the time-off/commute I'd find myself in a better mood. (Most of the time singing a song in the car will shake me out of whatever it is I'm feeling.) This did not work. I went to job #2 and asked my partner for the night if I could take the anti-social role for the evening. He agreed and asked me what was wrong, and I replied that I wasn't really sure, that maybe I was just getting my period because I had no real reason. He says, "Are you serious? I thought that was just a myth."

Really?

So... now I'm flabbergasted on many levels. Boys really don't understand, and neither do I sometimes. Do you ladypeeps get all uncontrollably moody during "that time" or is it just me? Also, does anyone ever get the overwhelming sensation to be held/receive hugs for long periods of time?

I hate being a girl sometimes.

"Whatever will be"

2011-09-01T19:53:00.000-04:00

The idea from this response to the Indie Ink Challenge came from both a Maroon 5 song and a conversation with a friend. It didn't necessarily happen this way, but my mind is a strange place to be... so... voila...

"Whatever Will Be"

The cool air was blowing against my sunburned skin as we made our way along the Garden State Parkway. The only music we had to listen to was coming out of the miniscule speakers of her iPhone. I resisted the urge to praise her for thinking of this, because though I appreciated the music, I wasn’t going to let her tell me “I told you so”; I was okay with the radio, even if we did hear the same song 4 times in 2 hours.

She was laid back and relaxed, mindless humming the melody of whatever song was playing and taping her fingers against the arm rest. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, the explosion, if you will, of the silence, to which I would no longer be able to keep quiet about. She and I are very similar, so I knew it was coming, I just wasn’t sure when. Turns out it was sooner rather than later.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” she asked, suddenly, jarring me out of my inner thoughts.

“What do you mean,” I answered back, way too quickly to fool anyone that I wasn’t just stalling for time.

“Don’t play dumb,” her tone clipped short on single-syllable words. I could hear the roll of her eyes, it was so apparent. She knew what I’d respond, too, so I kept it to myself while I searched for the right words to say.

I let out a sigh, not really sure what to say or how much to divulge, but it was in vain; I knew I was going to spill my guts. “I just keep hoping that things will be different, ya know? Like, somehow she’ll get that she’s being a tool, and just snap out of it. I’m waiting for things to go back to normal, like how they used to be…. I know, I know, it’s not going to go back to that, because this is what it is, but I just keep having hope.” It is at this point that I’d let my head hang in my hands, but I don’t because I’m driving and I definitely don’t need to hear about Jersey drivers.

She just gives me a look, one that you expect, but still hurts when it hits you. “You deserve so much better” she says, like I don’t know that.

“Listen, I am the first person to agree! If anyone told me all this, I would be the first person to tell them that it’s not worth it, and that this is not going to end well, and that they deserve the world, not this petty bullshit, but….”

“… But what? What could you really say here to defend this inappropriate behavior?”

“I just… I know what it used to be.”

“Well, it’s not that way anymore, is it?”

“No, but…”

“No buts.”

Love is frustrating; it’s not puppies and sunshine and rainbows, it’s cold and painful. I lean forward a little in my seat, and my burned skin drags me back to the present. It hurts, and it's going to hurt until it heals.

I keep hoping that things will be different, or go back to how it used to be, but I just keep getting smacked in the face with reality – you can never go back, you must keep going forward.

It will always be this way.

The song changes, and the sharp chords of "Misery" comes through the tiny little speakers. Sometimes fate steps in and shows you the real deal.

***
My prompt comes from the most awesome Liz Culver: "It will always be this way." (Liz's most recent post is about sex... go read it :) I challenged Carrie to write about an origami swan, and the response, I'm sure, will be sharp.

Hurricane Irene part deux

2011-08-31T22:51:00.000-04:00

I really hope that everyone is okay after Hurricane (not so fucking nice) Irene came through with her PMS-Bitch-Face and made a mess of things. <3

Hurricane Irene

2011-08-27T20:03:00.000-04:00

Dear Fellow New Jersey Residents:

Please stop acting like you've never lived through a storm before. This is nothing new to us. We need to prove that, even with things like "The Jersey Shore" that we can handle ourselves with a level of decorum. Or, to put it more plainly... grow a set, ok?

No Water

No Bread

No Spam.

Suck it up, Peeps!

"Journey to the Past"

2011-08-25T11:10:00.000-04:00

^{Indie Ink time, again, Peeps. This week I was challenged by the most wonderful Jen O. of My Tornado Alley, who in my opinion, is more delicious than a donut. I, in turn, challenged the Flaming Nyx, who awesomely answered my challenge Here.}

^{"Journey to the Past"}

^{We sat on the edge of the porch, my son and I. I’ve come to appreciate the time that we have together, to be able to talk freely, and understand that our relationship has evolved over time, from parent and child to friends. We talked of life, of the old days in the old country, and reality. After many conversations about philosophy and love and life, I found the courage to share something with my kin, my blood, which, given different outcomes, would have changed our lives forever.}

^{“On my way home, down old Tilley Road, is where I met the love of my life.}

^{I had just come from the market, where my mother had sent me, like she did every week, to pick up the groceries that we’d need for the week. It was always the same items, too. I could find them as quick as anything because I now knew the store like the back of my hand. Spaghetti, fresh mozzarella cheese, some spices, a pound of ground beef, and a bag filled with one carrot, one red onion, celery, a cucumber, and a jar of olives.}

^{The walk to the market was long, down a winding mountain trail. Going down to the market wasn’t bad; it was the walk back up that was the pain. Climbing up the mountain with the groceries under the high noon sun was tiring. As I was making my ascent up towards the village, I saw her. She was stumbling up the trail, over the rocks, like she’d never made this trip before. She was young, seventeen, maybe, and so simply wholesome that you couldn’t help but try and protect her.}

^{Her chestnut hair blew out behind her like a fan was positioned directly in front of her. Her dress swayed against her hips, rhythmically. Her slender legs took deliberate, but tentative steps over the rocky terrain.}

^{I called to her, but she did not turn.}

^{I moved faster, hoping to catch up with her, but she held her own. I was drawn to her; she was my gravitational pull while we trudged the mountain trail together. She was my sun, my north star, my guiding light.}

^{She reached the summit before me, and I knew I was going to lose her.}

^{When I got to the top, she was gone. I never saw her again.”}

^***

^{My Prompt was : On the way home, down old Tilley Road...}

Update

2011-08-23T10:27:00.001-04:00

Peep this, Peeps!

I received the best phone call last night from a friend, and immediately knew I had to share this with you.

I sat here watching the Giants game, minding my own business, when the phone started singing "Moves like Jagger". (Whatever, don't even try to judge me... Moves like Jagger is the most awesome song to come out this year. Youtube it and thank me.) I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Leina, and, knowing she was supposed to be at work, I thought something might be wrong, so I answered, curious.

She immediately started yelling at me.

"Thank God you answered the phone! I just had your best friend in here and as soon as she opened her mouth, I wanted to kill you. Why weren't you here to save me like I saved you?"

I had no idea what she was talking about until she clued me in...

"The lady said she was going to China."

Not really the Crazy Lady off to China, but you know...

OMG PEEPS! It's the Crazy Lady off to China! You may remember her from an earlier post (which you can find here). Leina got the update!

Apparently, she is still training for her Great Wall of China visit with her ancient mother... have no fear, though, she doesn't disappoint in the hilarity department.

She told Leina that she spends too much money (as she's buying coffee) and Leina says, "Isn't that awful when you realize that?" The lady agrees, but then explains that she spent money for a good reason. She donated $50 dollars to a woman in Parsippany whose dog needed neurological surgery or it would never walk again...

::shakes my head:::

How does this happen?

::Head Slap::

2011-08-21T00:39:00.001-04:00

Yesterday found Sunshine as a stupid person.

Yes, it's true. It happens, even to the best of us. (meaning me)

To explain what happened, I first have to go back and explain to you when my moment of clarity happened, and then we can skip back to regular time. All that to just tell you I'm going to start from the beginning. Forgive me, Peeps, it's been a long day.

Last week, as I was preparing to drive Mormon and his wife, Bad Mormon, to the airport for their vacation to Utah (couldn't make this up if I tried), I stopped at Dunkin Donuts to pick up my new favorite drink, a Hazelnut coffee coolata. My most loyal followers will know that I live for anything coffee-and-hazelnut flavored, so this was supposed to be a happy trip to make.

Unfortunately, it was here, at my most beloved coffee shop, that I realized how awful human nature really is.

The girl behind the counter looked at me and said "how are you". No "hi". No inflection in her voice that made me think she actually knew that she was asking a question, rather than making a statement. In short...

SHE DIDN'T FUCKING CARE HOW I WAS.

So, then and there, I vowed not to ask anyone "how are you" because we all know that we don't really care what the answer is... we just say it to be polite. We're sheep. We do it because other people do it, and we know that they expect us to do it. But we don't care.

Anywho, so yeah, at work yesterday, as I sat in the dull-but-well-air-conditioned drive thru, I made my mistake. A lady in a minivan drove up to the first lane and without thinking I just said "hi, how are you?". THAT will teach me.

She replied with "Horrible. I just got a ticket."

I said, "Oh, I'm sorry. That sucks. I don't really know what to say."

She said "Well, you asked."

I wanted to respond with "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO RESPOND WITH "I'm good, how are you?"?!?!?!?!?!?!" Didn't get the memo, obviously.

::rolls eyes:::
This happen to you, Peeps?

"Perplexed"

2011-08-20T09:37:00.000-04:00

Hello Peeps and welcome to the weekend!

I have to admit, I felt pretty bad that I write more to my "Multifaceted" story this week, and with the prompting of my friend Arnold*, I dug deep and pulled out a little more. For those of you who liked those characters, here they are, a little different, a little skewed, and a little more developed. I hope you enjoy.

“Perplexed”
I walked into the kitchen and you would have thought I had stepped into a war zone the way she looked at me with fear blazing in her eyes. She stood, crouched into a vertical fetal position, armed with a bottle of Windex in one hand and a faded brown flip flop in the other. If I didn’t know her better, and what she could do to me with that flip flop and Windex, I’d have laughed in her face.

I’m a tough guy, but even I wouldn’t incur the wrath that is she when she feels backed into a corner. Or, in this case, onto our dining room chair.

The scene is ridiculously hilarious, but more so if you knew just how far she would go to be brave. She’s so strong, independent, that one might wonder what happened to her to turn her out this way. She is smart, so smart. She uses words I’ve never even heard of, much less can pronounce, and she says them with a confidence that lets you know that she means business. She’s the girl who can fix her own car, her own computer, and her own mistakes. She doesn’t need anyone’s help or anyone’s pity. She handles whatever comes at her with finesse and determination. She can’t be intimidated, provoked, or dissuade from getting what she wants.

She’s no pink-glitter-hugs-and-unicorns kind of girl; she’ll kick your ass if you get in her way.

And yet, here she is, the love of my life, standing on a chair across from our kitchen, about to go to war with cleaning materials and accessories.

“Baby?” I asked, tenderly, uneasy as to how I should proceed with her.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she said, as she started to unfold herself from her attack position. “I can’t take this. Where have you been? Don’t you know it’s your job to ki—aaaah!”
Just as she was about to come down from the chair, I heard a loud screeching sound come from the kitchen, which had her back up on her perch, armed and dangerous.

I recognized the sound but couldn’t place it; it was not where it should be. I turned to see what it was, and recognized it immediately.

My badass girlfriend was afraid of a cricket.

“Don’t just stand there,” she practically screamed, “get it!”

“Relax…. Seriously…. Relax,” I said, and almost immediately knew this was the wrong thing to say. Me and my big, unfiltered mouth.

“Relax? Relax? Don’t tell me to relax!”

Uh oh.

“I don’t know who you think you are trying to tell me to relax but I have been here in a god damn panic for nearly an hour trying to figure out what the hell to do with this thing! I tried to kill it and it jumped up and smacked me clear in the face and I almost had a seizure. I thought about hiding into the bathroom until it just disappeared but what would I do if it crawled under the door and came in with me!?! Where would I go then? Can crickets crawl? I don’t know, but I can’t take this. Just help me, okay?”

It’s times like these that I fall for her harder.

“Why don’t you get down from there,” I said, pulling out my wallet and handing her a twenty. “You can leave your weapons with me. We’ll get your things from the other room, and you can go get us some coffee. I’ll have everything taken care of by the time that you get back. Does that sound good?”

What I really want to say to her is "Grow the hell up! Just because I'm the man doesn't mean I wanna do this any more than you do! Where are my friggin' rights?"

But, I don't, because let's face it, that'll never work.

Anyway, she's finally coming out of panic-mode.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good, okay.”

I followed her through the house and walked her to the door, hoping that she wouldn’t have another panic attack in the time it took to gather her crap and get out of the house. I watched her pull out of the driveway and around the corner before I shut the front door.

I leaned against the door and knew I was in trouble.

I’m petrified of crickets, too. What the hell am I going to do?

***

I hope you liked this, too. Arnold wants me to keep going with it, so I'm going to give it more time and effort this week, and maybe I'll have something new for you guys that isn't a rant and rave about stupid people I meet at work. <3

*Arnold is not actually her name. But, I find it hilarious, so I go with it. :)

Multifaceted

2011-08-17T23:09:00.000-04:00

Indie ink time - I was challenged by Serena who can be found in her bewildered bug lair. I challenged the lovely Grace, who I guess happened to hate my prompt for her, but mastered it nonetheless. Check her out here.

On with the show:
***
"Multifaceted"

I found her standing a top one of our dining room chairs. I just stood in the door way, shaking my head, waiting to understand the scene unfolding in front of me.

"Baby?" I said, purposefully not asking her what in Jesus H. Christ's name she was doing standing on the chair, her faded brown flip flop being held like a sword. I know how to finesse these situations; don't laugh, don't overreact, and quietly coax the disastrous story out of her, all while making her feel safe.

The flip flop slowly started to fall as recognition crossed her face, but her guard went right back up when the shrill chirp of one of Mother Nature's creatures came from the next room. Immediately, I understood.

I shook my head. Girls.

You see, this makes sense.

My girl is brilliant. She's smart, she's got her degree in English Literature and she can use big words that make your head spin. She's brave, enough to stand up to a man almost twice her height and point her finger in his face, telling him where he can put his loud-mouth'd opinion. She's funny as all hell, and has a smokin' hot body to boot. She's not one of those "pink, glitter, hugs and unicorns" girls; she drinks beer, rocks her Converse sneakers and her studded belt, and can swear like a sailor. She can fix her own car, her own computer, and her own mistakes.

But, it never fails. Bugs are her downfall.

"Baby, there's a cricket in the kitchen! Kill it, okay?"

I shake my head again, take the flip flop from her hand and help her off the chair. She looks at me like I'm the friggin' Messiah, and for a second, I fall even more in love with my bad ass girlfriend.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry."
***

Prompt: Pink glitter hugs and unicorns.

I wasn't really sure where to go with this, and unfortunately this week left me a little pressed for time, so while I do like where this story was going, I know that it isn't even close to being finished. I hope to maybe write a bit more about these two soon.

Hope you're all not terribly disappointed, especially Serena. <3

Convos with Susie

2011-08-16T10:47:00.000-04:00

Susie: I want to meet the baby.

Val: Why? You don't like the parents.

Susie: But it's family.

Val: There is a 50% chance that you will not like the child.

Susie: Well, I told my mother the reason I want to meet the baby is to make sure that it doesn't look like Alien.

Val: Oh My God.

Susie: Is that bad?

Val: No.

***

Val: You hate her.

Susie: I don't hate her. I don't particularly like her, but I don't hate her.

Val: Yes you do! You deleted her on Facebook!

Susie: No I didn't, you did!

Val: Oh, right, I did. Oops.

Just a taste.

2011-08-14T00:12:00.000-04:00

Hey Peeps.

So much has been going down with me in the last few weeks that I haven’t really had time to post something with merit to the Awesome Blog. I’d apologize for inconveniencing you all with my lack of attention, but I don’t necessarily think that anyone actually cares about reading this drivel… More likely is accidental and/or pity clicks (unless Biffle is reading this, because she says she checks it everyday… hey Biff!). My life has gotten so out of control that I don’t even have time to write at home – I’m secretly writing this from the drive thru. Shhh.

There are so many things to tell you all, but I will try to reel myself in and keep to the highlights.

As per my last post, those of you that follow along with the life of Sunshine will know that her chariot had ceased to pull her (less) fat ass along anymore. It dropped me off at my job and decided it was done being a productive member of society. We took Squirt to the doctor (which was a shit show all its own) and they have rendered him useless. Actually, I think the mechanic’s exact words were ‘this car is unsafe, and I don’t recommend anyone driving it.’ I translated that to mean “death trap”, laughed a little and said “Duh, tell me something I don’t know, buddy.”

He did. What I didn’t know is that the VW dealer couldn’t figure out why the car wouldn’t start, but he knew that it would cost around two thousand dollars to fix.

:::blank stare:::

HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL NO.

NO NO NO NO NO.

That was a good laugh, I have to admit. The mechanic must moonlight as a comedian because Oh. My. God. What a joke.

Anywho, so, the father and I went out looking for used cars… We didn’t really have a whole lot of time to be picky and choosy about what we wanted. We only had a few specifications for the ‘new’ car…

1.) Must be cheap.
2.) Must run (without smoke or screeching).
3.) Must have air conditioning.

That’s it. However, we probably should have been a bit more specific with our wants because later in the day one dealer really threw us both for a loop.

Car Dealer: Hey folks, how we doin’?
Dad: Hey bud, how are ya?
::shakes hands::
Car Dealer: What are you guys looking for? Maybe I can help point you in the right direction.

(Here is where I’d like to insert my description of the car dealer. I’m sure in another life he was fantastic, smart, witty, sharp, and non-creepy man. However, it did not carry over to this life because he was the stereotypical used car dealer… minus the cheesy suit. The suit might have made him look less creepy. He wore ripped shorts and a fake-polo with stains on it. His hair was out of control and his hands were greasy in the same way that little kids’ hands are greasy. Not good.)

Dad: We’re looking for a small, affordable car… preferably with low miles… something good on gas.
Car Dealer: Well, you’re going to pay through the nose on civics and focus’, I’ll tell ya that right now. What you need is a Chevy Cavalier, or an Impala.
Dad: Oh, really? Okay, well do you have any that you can show us?
Car Dealer: I don’t have any in now, but should have some in on Monday.
Dad: We kind of have a time deadline, ya know?
Car Dealer: Oooook…. Did you want something safe?

…and it’s time to leave.

The man gave my dad his card and as soon as we got into the car, dad handed me the card and said “here, you can pick your teeth with this because we’re never coming here again.”

Best. Ever.

(More about my goings on will be up soon... but in the mean time, fill me in on what you guys are doing. <3)

Last Minute Goodbye

2011-08-04T19:16:00.001-04:00

He sat underneath the large Maple tree, with it's draping branches covering him like a blanket, keeping him protected and warm. The smooth, flat rock embedded in the ground next to the tree served as both a seat and a table as he wrote his goodbye.

***
Dear Megan,

I feel like I should start by explaining to you that this letter isn’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable; it’s more just to be able to get what I feel off of my chest, and let you know, since obviously, you’re involved. I wanted you to know that I have loved you since the day that we met, a clandestine meeting in the guidance office when we were both new and both lost. You were wearing a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, your hair was pulled into a pony tail and you looked like you just wanted to fade into the background, but I was determined not to let you. You see, you were front row and center in my heart.

Freshman year was scary. I tried to make friends with you then, but you were shy and nervous, and didn’t really want to be approached. I waited. We had the same biology class, and I took as many opportunities as possible to be your lab partner. I hoped that with the constant interaction with me, you’d gain some confidence in our friendship and start to trust me. You did, some what. That year you gave me the best gifts I've ever received in my life. Your smile, when you looked me in the eye, accidental brushes of your arm against mine, these are the things that have made my life complete.

Sophomore year wasn't as bad, but you started making friends and separated yourself from me. You actually didn't know how much I cared about you, and I was so happy you were falling into a place in school, but I was jealous just the same. You started dating that tool, Alex, who cared more about how his hair was behaving than anything that you were doing, and I couldn't stomach it. You made some good girl friends, and I could see the happiness emanating from you. That put me at ease.

Junior year I got the nerve to ask you to the Spring Fling. You apologized, told me that someone else had asked you, and you'd said yes. You seemed genuinely upset about it, and asked me to go out to a movie to make up for it. That was the best day of my life.

Senior year you decided you were going to move half way across the country to go to school in Arizona. You broke my heart, as I hadn't even realized you applied all the way out there. I was set to go to M. I. T. while you were at Arizona State, seemingly a whole world away. Life was inevitably changed forever.

Anyway, the moral of the story is that I've loved you for as long as I've known you, and I wish I'd had the nerve to tell you way back when. All I can do now is hope you get this, wherever you are, and know that I was always yours.

Loving you, ever more,
Sam
***

Samuel Mathen, 18, from Lincoln Park, New Jersey, was found dead in his car last Thursday evening. He is survived by his parents, Linda and Jeremy Mathen, of Lincoln Park, New Jersey, along with his sister, Natalie, and brother, Michael. He was enrolled at M.I.T in Massachusetts on a full scholarship for biochemistry.

Services will be held at the Durst-Milton Funeral home... viewing from 2-4 and 7-9. The family asks that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention at Out of the Darkness.

****
Prompt: Write from the perspective of a high school student of the opposite gender from you.

Suicide is no joke, and I really hope that this doesn't offend anyone. This past year has been riddled with young kids taking their own lives, due to miscommunication, bullying, and intolerane. Depression is one of the leading causes of Suicide, and it shouldn't just be swept under the rug.

If you want to know more about suicide prevention you can go to the link in my post or type it in directly at http://www.outofthedarkness.org/. Also, if you can spare it, you should donate to a worthy cause.

My prompt was issued by Greg Perry, who you should all check out (his girlfriend is awesome, too!).

I challenged Katri with "Penny for your thoughts" and you should reat that awesome response as well.

I hope you enjoyed, and if not enjoyed, at least could appreciate. Thanks Peeps, hopefully be back to my fun self next week <3
-Sunshine

Splat

2011-08-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

I feel like I could punctuate my life based on the number of times I have seen my car on the back of a tow truck. It's a miserable feeling, in case you peeps have never had the circumstance to see it for yourselves.

This past Friday

January 2010

Squirt is hopeless.

Not Gonna Make It

2011-07-27T23:25:00.000-04:00

Indie Ink Challenge Time... Hooray! This week I was challenged by Steffani, who writes inklings (and awesomeness) over here. My challenge was received by the lovely Alison Newt, who rocked it hard with "The Eldest of Two". Please Please go read their responses when you're finished here.

"Not Gonna Make It"

“Now look what you’ve gone and done. Why did you have to pull in this lane? Obviously everyone is moving over because there is something going on up ahead. You’re not going to get anywhere being in this lane, idiot, and we are not going to make the show! I paid good money for these tickets… if we miss it, you’re giving me money.”

She was right. The parkway was a parking lot, and I was trapped in the wrong lane. Still, there was no need for her to preach to me; it’s not like she’s never made a mistake in her entire perfect life. No. She puts her pants on one leg at a time, same as me. As for giving her money, she’s got another thing coming. I finance her weekly Spa trips and she gives me nothing. She can shove these stupid tickets up her tight ass.

“No, Mike, the OTHER lane. The OTHER lane. Move over. No, don’t let him go past you. You know what your problem is? You’re too nice! You’re too sensitive; you have no cut-throat instinct! You need to get tougher. Are you a man or are you a wuss? Grow a set and merge like you mean it… do I need to get out and stop traffic?”

Am I a man? Of course I’m a man. Who does she think she is, asking me if I’m a man? How dare she? If I weren’t a man I would have smacked her across the face right now for her behavior. Is she a lady? Not that I’ve seen in a long, long time. She has a mouth like a truck driver. She burps louder than I do, for chrissake. Where are her manners? Where are her lady-like qualities? M.I.A. if you ask me.

“Michael, get your act together! Christ, and they say women are bad drivers!? They obviously haven’t been in the car with you! You know I should have driven; we would have already been through the damn Tunnel by now. I’m never letting you drive to the city ever again…. Michael, are you listening to me? Am I talking to myself? What the fuck.”

Don’t answer her. She’s baiting you. She wants you to snap so that you’ll be the bad guy for a change. Don’t answer her. Don’t answer her. Don’t answer her. Keep it together, kid.

“I’m driving home, that’s all there is to it. I don’t think I can handle watching you pussyfoot through this disaster anymore tonight. Oh, see that, the Drive Around It App says that there’s an accident up ahead. Michael, pull onto the shoulder… the shoulder, Michael! See everyone else doing it?! Just follow along… you’re good at that…"

No, you know what I see everyone else doing? I see them working together to get out of a terrible situation. I see them trying to help the victims of the accident. You know what I hear all fucking day long, Liz? I hear the people I love and trust telling me to rid my hands of you, you stupid bitch, but I don’t. I stay loyal to you because somewhere in that shell of a soul-sucking-dream-killer is the woman that I fell in love with many moons ago. MANY moons ago. Ya know what… Fuck this shit. I’m done.

“Get out of the car, Liz.”

“What do you mean, get out of the car? Are you insane?”

“You heard me, I said get out of the car. Now.”

“You’re finally going to grow a spine, after all this time?” She laughed. She laughed so hard she snorted. “That’s a good one.”

***

Prompt: "Uh, I don't think we're going to make it."

Girlfriend Application

2011-07-25T00:45:00.000-04:00

Peeps, lend me your ears and brains for a smidge, okay?

I come to you with questions and in need of suggestions. A friend of mine and I have been chatting this week regarding girls and love lives and all that shit that should be grand but is really a pain in the ass. Back story is she had accidentally had a tooth-chipping mishap, and I explained that she needed to find someone who would be willing to kiss said chipped-tooth to make it "all better". ( I don't want any comments about how lame that sounds, either.)

All in all, that conversation turned into us deciding that she would need to make an application for new prospects, so that she could weed out the ones she knows she wouldn't like right off the bat and concentrate on the ones who fit the bill. Therefore, we came up with these questions to get our "Girlfriend Application" started.

Girlfriend Application

What is your idea of the perfect date?
How do you feel about chivalry (i.e. holding the door open, pulling out a chair, killings bugs, paying for meals, etc.)?
Would you kiss a bruise/bump/chipped tooth?
What is your favorite game at a carnival/boardwalk, and would you let your significant other win just ‘because’?
Is cuddling

A.) Exciting and endearing, B.) Annoying, or C.) A necessary evil?

Have you ever sought mental health treatment?
Have you had a stable relationship?
Have you ever stalked an ex?
Have you ever rented a U-haul*? In what time frame?
Have you ever purchased a pet with a significant other to make your relationship more like a family*?

*Indicates Lesbian-only relationships

Those of you who are familiar with lesbian relationships will know the old joke... What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-haul. Also, if you know a lesbian couple, you will know they probably have a cat (though some branch out and get dogs... modern-lesbians...).

This survey/application can be relevant to ALL relationships, and I would hope that if I'm leaving stuff out, which I probably am, that you will comment and tell me so I can update this application for my friend. I'm sure she will appreciate it a lot!

"To Remain Silent"

2011-07-21T00:52:00.000-04:00

"To Remain Silent"

”Your mother was a cunt, and she should have swallowed.”

“That’s what he said?”

“Yes, that is what he said, word for word.”

***

The officers take me into an interrogation room, allowing me nothing but the pleasure of a cold, steel chair.

The light above us flickers along with a buzzing sound, cluing me in to the fact that there had been no renovations on this building in the last century, if not longer.

I sit with my ankles twisted behind the legs of the chair, making my shoulders hunch forward a bit. My hair falls in front of my eyes, giving me an easy way out of making eye contact, which I never really enjoyed to begin with.

I just keep thinking I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to do this.

The cop stares at me, expecting me to start my side of the story, but my arms are shaking and I’m concentrating too hard on not letting anyone see it but me. The cop tries to prompt me… bait me, more like it.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning… where were you tonight?”

My palms start to sweat.

The light is still buzzing, and I develop an eye twitch. I’m sweating, but I’ve got the chills. I’m holding my arms like they’re an infant, trapped against my stomach. My eye is twitching. My ankles are wrapped around the chair. I am in big trouble.

“In my apartment.”

I feel like keeping it succinct, like matching the syllables up, even with the same number in the officer’s question is the right thing to do. It levels the playing field. It keeps us even. In sync.

“Was anyone with you?”

“No, I was home alone.”

I see the bad-cop nod to the silent one, and I realize that this is exactly what they’re expecting to hear out of me. I want to tell them that it isn’t what they think, but they’ve already made up their minds about me. Figures.

Bad-cop’s eyes don’t really meet mine, almost like he doesn’t really care about the answer, just hoping that it will come out in a timely manner so that he can write this up, close the case and go home. I think to myself that I am an idiot for being here, and no one really cares about my side of the story. I should just go home, pack my shit up, and head out of here as fast as possible, but it’s too late now. They won’t let me leave.

I aim to uncross my ankles when the silent cop finally looks up from his case folder, sighs, and tells the other cop to leave. Bad cop stares for just a second, but indulges his partner and heads for the door, to which I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t like him, or his eyes. They’re cold and steely, and made for beating hardened criminals, not people like myself. Here is where I get to my point, my reason for being here tonight on the cold, steel chair and the buzzing light above.

Silent cop looks at me expectantly. He knows that I know that it is time to give up the scared little girl routine and get down to brass tacks.

“I don’t know where to start,” I said, lamely.

“Well, how about this… we’re reporting a domestic assault, correct?” he prodded.

“Yes, sir. My boyfriend, or ex boyfriend, he came home drunk tonight and went after me.”

***

My prompt was:

Use the most offensive phrase you can think of in a short story no less than 500 words, without censoring it or yourself. I was challenged by Octoberesque. I challenged Kat at Kat's Page with the challenge of "Dear Diary". You can see how she rocked it by clicking on the little link!

Go to Indieink.org to check out all the rest of the challenges!

Vanity

2011-07-20T21:35:00.000-04:00

I got my eyebrows done yesterday, and they feel much thinner than usual.

Ahh, screw it.

2011-07-18T23:54:00.000-04:00

Tonight as I basked in all that I had accomplished in the last week, I was debating whether or not to share these little tidbits with you, Peeps. I pondered to myself if any of you would care about my mundane blitherings, and then I realized... I don't really care.

Hahahahaha.

So, here's a small list of the things I did/found out/ liked this week:

*Bought a Slytherin tee shirt for HP 7.2
*Saw HP 7.2 and geeked out over it.
*Was disappointed at the end of HP 7.2
*Joined the gym (WOO!)
*Ran (further than I would if I were running away from a flying being) at said gym
*Had a "why me" encounter at the gym that left me shaking my head.
*Picked up my bride's maid dress for Alexis' and Dave's wedding
*Watched Alexis fight with multiple people today over stupid things
*Did six HORRIFYING minutes on the Elliptical machine.
*Found a winning scratch off in the parking lot of Target.
*Got a ticket for rolling through a stop sign (THAT EVERYONE ELSE ROLLS THROUGH, TOO)

What a week. What'd you Peeps do?

<3 Sunshine

Snip Snip

2011-07-13T20:46:00.000-04:00

Peeps! For your reading pleasure....

***

She came in and sat down in front of me.

There were no pleasantries. There were no laughs, hugs, or extra smiles if they weren’t absolutely necessary. It wasn’t so much an awkward silence, as it was more that we both knew what our purpose was and we kept to it. That’s fine with me. I don’t really want to be a therapist. I am not here to hold your hand or be your mother, despite what other people in my shoes would tell you.

This girl, this child almost, was in misery. I stood back, watching her face in the mirror as I worked methodically, and wondered what happened to her that this was the ultimate result. Tears streamed down her face. Her eyes, bloodshot and swollen, looked as if they’d been leaking for hours with no break. Her nose, as well, was cherry red as she repeatedly wiped it over and over, struggling to maintain a modicum of composure.

Realizing that she wasn’t going to want to talk to me, I started humming to myself. It was just a tune, I couldn’t put my finger on, but as soon as I finished the first string of notes, she glared at me through the mirror. Her gaze sent chills down my spine, and froze me to the bone, so much so that I actually stopped what I was doing, mid-action. I immediately lowered my tone and set back to work, hoping to get rid of her as fast as possible, now that I was feeling extremely uncomfortable.

As I finished up, I was still humming, and it escalated into a crescendo. This crying woman in front of me looked about to kill me. I cleared my throat, obviously flustered, and said the only thing I could think to say….

“…would you like to schedule your follow-up appointment for a color treatment?”

The glare on her face told me that she wouldn’t be coming back to this salon ever again. That’s when I realized what I'd been humming...

I guess that’s why they call it the blues.

***

I love Indieink! I am back in the challenge, baby! Yay!

This week I was challenged by the most awesome Michael over at Incidents and Accidents with the prompt "I guess that's why they call it the blues". In turn, I challenged Stefan, my first international follower (!!!!) with "somewhere over the rainbow". You can see his response H.E.R.E.

End of an Era

2011-07-13T11:34:00.000-04:00

I am going to go out on a limb here and expose myself to all of you. No, not that way, you creepers.

You see, I am a Harry Potter freak.

This week marks the end of an era for me. With the final installment of the Harry Potter series will also come the end of my proverbial childhood. I know, I know, peeps, I'm sure you're all thinking, 'Val, don't be so dramatic. It's just fantasy."

But, no.

It's not just a story to me; it's become a part of me, a part of my collective psyche, and the characters have become my friends. It is fun way to leave reality and become something or someone different for a short time. It is an escape from the sucky things in life, as is all great fiction, really.

Okay, so, here I am letting my freak flag fly. But the best part is, there are a lot of other freak-flag-fliers this week making it known! How awesome is that! I love that the HP Freaks are flooding the internet, the streets, the world... and they don't care :)

So this post is actually being stolen from Jess at It is a big deal, it is to me! (who is just awesome, and you all should check her out if you haven't already done so). She wrote a post the other day about HP, about all her favorites from the books and movies. I am going to borrow her categories very nonchalantly and hope that she likes me enough to look the other way (after she's read my post, obviously). So, here goes!

Favorite Non-Lead Character: Ginny Weasley. She doesn't really say a lot, and she's not really central to anything beside as a love interest for Harry, but Rowling really let her grow into a strong young lady. I love her.

Best Teacher at Hogwarts: McGonagall was my favorite presence at Hogwarts, but I have to say that my favorite teacher would be Hagrid. I was so excited in book three when Professor Dumbledore let him teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Favorite Mythical Creature: Centaurs. Hands down.

Course at Hogwarts I'd most like to take: Charms with Professor Flitwick. Ever since the Sorcerer's Stone movie when they were being taught WIngardium Leviosa... Swish and Flick!

Best Quidditch Match: When Ron saved the Quaffle, and became "Weasley is Our King".

Favorite Villain: Draco Malfoy.

Favorite Member of the DA: Luna Lovegood

Favorite Novel and Film: My favorite novel was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It was the first time that the kids had actually had to be grown-ups. My favorite film was the Order of the Phoenix because it was put together so well.

Favorite Character: Dobby.

Here lies Dobby, a Free Elf.

Why me?: Story-telling Customer

2011-07-04T23:04:00.001-04:00

The last few days, according to Glass Is Half-Empty, were slightly a bummer.

Well, I am here to share with you something that made those not-so-wonderful days worthwhile. One of my customers gave me a gift this week, and I was so touched and inspired that I felt a desperate need to share it with you immediately. But, before I do, I am going to pass on the information that my co-workers shared with me after this customer had left. They said, in no uncertain terms, that I was not to give the gift back to the man, and I was not to leave it lying around where he could see I'd neglected it. Simple, easy directions. Also, they passed on congratulations to me and informed me that I was now a "real" member of the group.

Here is the gift, written word for word, as (one can only assume) intended by the author:

"Happy New Year"

Many moons ago I was a lad of 10 years old

Sitting with paper and pen

I was also trying to eat

When this dog showed up tired and beat

I didn't want the dog to die alone

So I went out and got a big soup bone

Six bones later I went out to where the dog lay

Spot was barking and barking he wanted to play

I threw out a stick to the dog he bought it back

I threw it out again and spot brought it back again

I say to the dog you are my best friend

I talked to the dog like a silly goof

I said to the dog what is on top of the house

The dog barked roof roof

I said to the dog a question of thee

What is my life going to be

I said not one time but I said three and said that's enough

Spot put his head down and growled

Rough! Rough! Rough!

I am all out of explanations. Please feel free to leave anything you can make out of this... and we can start at "Why was this given to me in July?".

Glass is half-empty

2011-07-03T21:26:00.000-04:00

So, peeps, the last couple of days have been a bit of a bummer.

I tried to come up with a way to sum it all up succinctly, but even that wasn't cooperating with me, so I bailed on that idea as well.

I had an incident at work, at the new job, which I'm sure will amount to a write-up after the holiday passes.
(This incident caused me to gip someone, which makes me feel even worse, because apparently I'm a moral being. Go figure.)

Love life drama ensued. Really, that should be enough said. I ask for it though, because I keep walking in to it.

I was kept out of the Indie Ink Challenge this week because I missed the deadline for posting a challenge. To whomever was my chalengee, I apologize. I don't like to be that person. I just lost track of time. Well, I'm really upset about this because the Indie Ink Challenge brings a lot of happiness to my daily life.

A mirror broke in our house... not an average sized mirror... a WALL-LENGTH mirror. Huge. Huge. GIGANTIC. Now we're collectively trying to figure out whether or not we're going to have 7 years of bad luck ... how do the circumstances have to present? Does it still count if no one is home when it happens?

I missed this week's episode of Whale Wars.

What a serious bummer of a weekend.
:::shakes my head:::

Radio Edit

2011-06-29T23:27:00.000-04:00

Indie Ink time. This week's installment is a bit more mellow and somber, compared to my usual wit and sarcasm. I hope you like it.

When first challenged with this prompt, I was baffled. At a BBQ with my friends the other night, I went so far as to say that I had no idea what to write about because I don’t like boys and I don’t like summer. I gave it some thought, though, and mulled it over during down time at work, and this is what I came up with.

I can see you

I can see you, in my head, when I close my eyes. I don’t see the real you anymore, though; I see the still-life, beautiful version of you, without any flaws or imperfections, or any sign that you once were sad and human. I see you smiling a big, goofy grin that didn’t make many appearances in life, but they punctuate my memories of you. You’re immortal now, in my eyes.

your brown skin shining in the sun

…always irritated me. You turned so dark during the summer that people confused you with a latina woman. You AND Jacquie. I always tried (and failed) to maintain a tan like yours, which is probably why I identified more with my Irish side. I was jealous. You could sit outside for twenty minutes and be sun kissed, where as I could sit outside for twenty minutes and need ice packs for my blistered legs. Especially for your wedding to Roger, when I was wearing my strapless bride’s maid dress with racer back sun burn lines that you tried to “blend” with blush.

You’ve got your hair pulled back

… which was rare. The only times I ever remember you pulling your hair back was when you used to use a scrunchy from the 80’s.

Dad gave me the good hair, while you and Jacquie had the mousy brown hair that didn’t really do anything. You tried everything, from cutting it short, growing it long, bleaching it blonde, going red, and getting a horrible perm. Your hair was always a hot mess. I know you would admit this if you were here.

You always liked my hair, even when it was a “rat’s nest”. You’d always braid it if I wanted pigtails, and you’d straighten it for me when I’d get too frustrated to deal with it.

and your sunglasses on

Sunglasses were never your thing, but when you did wear them, they had to be blue blockers. God forbid you didn’t have them. Any other type was just junk. Maybe that’s why I can only settle for Aviators? I never realized that it might have been from you.

You would much rather rock the beret, the dickie under your shirts, and a pair of shorts over your leggings, because you needed pockets for your cigarettes and phone, no matter how many times I begged you to stop wearing them. You were always you, even when faced with adversity. You always remained true to yourself, a person who, as said by your husband, always marched to the beat of her own drummer. I hope that I can be as strong as you were.

I can tell you my love for you will still be strong

We had more than enough fights, arguments, and disagreements. I regret that. I know you would have forgiven me long before I would you. I didn’t say I love you enough, and not because I didn’t, but because I felt to withhold it was punishment. I love you. You know how I know for sure? Because even after all the bullshit, the nightmares that were both of our lives, I still ache to be able to call you and know that you’ll pick up on the other end… that I won’t be listening to “Don’t Stop Believin’” for eternity, and being mocked for doubting whether or not you’re still here. I love you, and my love for you has grown stronger for every single day.

after the boys of summer have gone.

You would have enjoyed this, mom. You loved abusing song lyrics into daily conversation. I hope I’ve made you proud. I hope, wherever you are, that you’re singing loudly, hopefully on key, and that they’ve got your microphone plugged in and fully charged.

I love you.

***

The prompt was given by Transplantedx3 ("the boys of summer..."), while I challenged Head Ant, who rocked it here.

Also, I feel that since I remembered to add the prompt this week, I should get a gold star... just sayin'.

Remember the nights...

2011-06-26T23:36:00.000-04:00

{Remember the time that we sat outside Lisa's house, after a home cooked meal, some drinks, some laughs, and some smores.}

{I'm pretty sure the makers of Yellowtail didn't imagine this when they were making such a delicious bouquet of wine down under. Yes, I did drink my wine out of a plastic cup, and through a straw. We're a classy bunch.}

Really great friends <3

{the light is on in the back because 1.) lisa is creeped out that she can't see in the dark, and 2.) because I was convinced there was a flying squirrel living in the tree behind the house, and kept the light on so we could watch it better.}

{When I wondered what fire would look like in black and white. Side note: Dani tried to tell me that the fire would be black and everything else would be white... clearly wine makes her think in Negative.}

{Photography by fire light.}

{My marshmellow stick was the best; it was so long, I didn't even have to get out of my chair to roast! Also, does eating the middle of the marsh mellow off the stick make me a fat kid? Lisa, Dani, and I collectively voted 'no'.}

The Sky is Falling

2011-06-23T10:41:00.002-04:00

Hey Peeps! As you're all dying to know, its Indie Ink time again! Hooray! This week I was challenged by Miranda at My Eclectic Bookshelf, whose prompt will be at the end. This prompt left me a jumbled mess, because first I knew what I was going to write about, and then, I didn't. Then, I struggled some more and had a little help from Maid Marian and finally found myself back on track. I hope you enjoy. I challenged Trish, who postponed her breakdown to give us something fantastic. You can check her out here.

The Sky is Falling

We awoke together, a single mass of tangled, knotted limbs, lying in a puddle of rain. The smell of mildewing fabric permeated the air and my lungs as my body forced itself to breathe deeply. We looked at each other, each trying to suppress a gasp, to disguise our surprise of what the other had become in the night.

We were not written into a fairy tale; far from it, but really, who is? She was covered in dirt, a few leaves twisted into her hair, and a spider bite marked her shoulder between two freckles. I’m sure I looked no better; I could feel the layers of grime and film covering me like a second skin. We were at that point, afterwards, where you feel dirty, and not in a good way. You don’t want anyone to see you; you’re filthy, sticky, and sweaty, and you just want to cover yourself up or find the nearest shower.

I can only vaguely recall the sound of the tent ripping… was it her foot, or mine, that tore the seam from the corner? Was it before or after that second time? That one was pretty wild. The tent was quite old, and her nails, long and sharp, were most likely responsible for the puncture marks in the sleeping bag, which collectively might explain the puddle.

Considering everything, she was the most beautiful thing I had seen in days. Also, quite possibly the funniest. This girl, this woman, prided herself on being impeccably dressed, always to the nines, and she laid next to me as nothing short of a disaster.

All of a sudden, my constitution was shattered and I let everything go, shaking away the disaster that had been our lives the previous night. As if a subconscious action, like breathing, I let out the most gut-busting, obnoxious laugh I’d ever heard myself make during my entire life. “You look like Jane the Jungle Woman!’ I said, finally, as I inhaled a deep breath while trying to regain my composure.

She glared at me, raised her eyebrow, and turned her eyes to bore straight into mine the way only a woman can while silently telling me that this was the inappropriate time. In all honesty, she was probably right, but I don’t take social cues very well and I would rather laugh about situations outside of my control. Apparently now wasn't the time to do anything but stay silent, wring out our lake-tent, pack up the car, and drive back to suburbia.
***
My prompt was: "You wake up lying in a puddle of rain... what are the events that lead up to this...".

Father's Day

2011-06-19T23:37:00.000-04:00

A day like no other, where men get to be men and do all the things they enjoy: eating their favorite meals, getting control of the remote control, choosing the music in the car, and doing whatever they please. Of course, this is NOT the case in my family, because I'm Princess Val and I make the rules. Duh.

Since I was taking charge, I decided that we were going to do Father's Day on Saturday, aka yesterday, because I had to work Sunday morning and wasn't sure if I was going to be able to see him. I made plans to meet up with him at noon, knowing that he was going to hate it no matter what time I showed up. This is important to note: my father is HORRIBLE with gifts, and really, celebrations of any kind. His birthday is in the summer and it takes him about six months to open birthday gifts, right in time for x-mas, which is practically the same deal... So, I knew that it was going to be rough, like it is every year... I was NOT expecting this, though...

I was on my way to his house, going to show up for 12:30pm, since I knew he wasn't going to be ready for me at twelve... but he called me while I was on the way and told me that he was going to the store to pick up fly-catching strips... because the carport* is filled with disgusting, buzzing flies**. I meet him at the house, presents and (unsigned) card in hand, and he looks at me like he has no idea what day is it, or what these are for. I went in, put the gifts*** on his desk and went out to the dining room to sign the card. He came out and I made a big deal of putting my hand over the card, like, don't read it while I'm still writing!! He said I'm not looking at it to which I replied good, because I'm not done writing it yet and which he said if you didn't want me to see it, you could have mailed it to me.

I said to him, why the hell would I mail it if I was going to see you? He said it'd have been nice to get something in the mail. Oh, okay. Fine. Next year, no gifts, just a letter in the mail.

Anyway, the rest of a long story short, Dad made me wait about an hour and a half for him to open presents, because he avoids them like the plague, and instead made me sit and watch him clean out my deceased grandfather's clothes from the closets, while he decided which were garbage, and which were goodwill... Poppy's been gone since 2006. I guess it was really imperative that it got done this weekend... Go Figure.

We had a really great day after all that nonsense, in all honesty. We went bowling and had a lot of laughs. (I won the first game, which we all know is the only one that really counts.) Then we went to dinner at Friday's and stuffed ourselves on Jack Daniels' Chicken. Yum.

I love my dad... he's hilarious, and I am grateful for all the things he's given me... especially his sense of humor, his height, and his charm. I love him for the fact that when I took pictures of him bowling, he told me not to post these on facebook, or put them on my blog, whatever that is... but that's not the Princess Val way, is it? Nope.

*Carport is a term for an enclosed area off the house, which could otherwise be called a porch but it is not raised, it is the same level as the house.
** I am ridiculously afraid of things that fly.
*** Two books on the NY Mets, his favorite baseball team.

No Good Deed

2011-06-16T19:24:00.000-04:00

Peeps! Indie Ink time is SO exciting!

I was challenged by Jason, who must really *get* me, because he gave me a challenge right up my alley. I admit, I was not familiar with the story when I received my challenge, but after reading and digesting, I was committed! His prompt will be at the end.

I challenged Michael, who always does a spectacular job. Please check out his response to "Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't" *here*.

and now, drum roll, please... maestro?... places!

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I’m tired.

I’m hungry.

I’m homeless.

It didn’t used to be this way, I swear. I used to have a great job. I paid my dues to the king. I worked hard, and played harder, but took my responsibilities seriously. I tried to make the Mrs. happy. I wanted to have a big family and be the man of the house, the breadwinner. I wanted to have it all.

I don’t really know what happened, but all of a sudden, things were just on a downward spiral, and I couldn’t do anything but watch myself fall. I tried. God, did I try, but there was nothing I could do, no hand holds to grab as I fell to “rock bottom”.

Here I am, now, trapped by cruel, cruel fate.

Rather than my ‘castle’, I’m under a bridge. Rather than sleeping on a comfortable mattress, I’m in the dirt with the bugs and the creepy crawlies. I’m not the coolest, the funniest, or the brightest, but I tried damn hard… and it got me here.

Trip. Trap.Trip. Trap.

Oh, Jesus. What do they want now? “Who’s that trippin’ over my bridge?”

“Oh, it is only I, the littlest Billy Goat Gruff… and I am going up the hill to make myself fat.”

What the eff? No. This isn’t real, is it? Did this puny little thing actually tell me he’s going to make himself fat?

“Now I’m coming to gobble you up!” I say, more out of spite and scorn rather than hunger. Hopefully I can scare this pipsqueak out of here…

“I’m too little… wait until the second Billy Goat Gruff comes along.”

This little thing just sold out his family to save himself! Get the hell out of here. I would never do that to my family; I chose to be homeless to save them. What a loser.

“Fine, be off with you.” Good Riddance, creep.

Trip. Trap. Trip. Trap.

Here comes the second one…. I wonder what this one’s excuse is going to be? I’m sure it’ll be something like “wahhh I’m too smart to be eaten,” or some bullshit like that.

“Oh no, it is only I, the second Billy Goat Gruff, going up the hill to make myself fat.”

“I’m going to gobble you up!”

“Oh no, don’t do that! Wait for the Biggest Billy Goat Gruff to come along!”

Whatever. “Be gone with you.”

I can’t deal with this… I really don’t want to eat this one OR the biggest one, I just want some peace and quiet. I want some time to plan my next move, to figure out which way is up and start heading in that direction.

Trip. Trap. Trip. Trap.

OK, here I go. “Who’s that trippin’ across my bridge?” I almost roar this, hoping that my tone will make me feared and respected.

“It is I, the big Billy Goat Gruff,” he says, with bravado.

“I’m coming to gobble you up!” I say, and when I hear his response, I feel provoked.

“Well, come along! I've got two spears, and I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears; I've got besides two curling-stones, and I'll crush you to bits, body and bone.”

‘Not a chance in hell,’ I think to myself. I’m a troll. I am a force to be reckoned with! I make my way to the top of the bridge, and push out my teeth, and snarl like I’ve never snarled before, but… he was huge. It’s all over.

***

Mild Applause Please

My prompt was to retell the tale of the Three Billy Goats Gruff from the Troll's perspective. Thanks for stopping in.
-Sunshine

Dun da da Dun!

2011-06-10T22:39:00.001-04:00

Peeps - This is my 50th post.

I feel like that is a nice, round number, and one in which we should celebrate. In 50 posts, I've made a lot of new friends, gotten out a lot of my random thoughts, and started writing again, with purpose.

As I was blog-stalking and lurking, like my usual self, I came upon this. (I didn't really just "come upon this" to be honest, she's in my blogroll, and she's absolutely wonderful.) I thought that it was pertinent to how I was feeling tonight.

My apologies to the poet, if I do this injustice by repeating it, but I am going to give her as much credit and love as I can. Marian, my favorite Massachusetts poet, thank you for this :)

Bright Star

gimme some rainbows
spontaneous dancing
commemorating just
how far we've come

encourage plentiful
frantic celebration
cheering & freedom
trust & yeah, love

i'll be a happy poet.

HAPPY 50th POST TO ME!!! AND ALL OF YOU FOR READING THEM! <3
-Sunshine

Marian can be found at http://www.runawaysentence.com OR just click on the link in her name above.

La vie de Milo

2011-06-08T09:30:00.000-04:00

Indie Ink Time! I love writing for this challenge. I admit, I sit in anticipation all day Saturday wondering who and what my challenge is going to be... I love it! I was challenged by Dee, whose prompt will be at the end. I, in turn, challenged Gehan who will write a story using one of the lines from his favorite song. Be sure to check out his response. Anyway, on with the show!

***

"La vie de Milo"

The last time we met, I’ll admit, we didn’t meet on such pleasant terms. In short, I was having a horrible day. I thought my fun, amazing, adventurous day out was going to be this great thing, but in actuality, it was a disaster. I was stung by a bee, taken to the vegetarian, and got sick all over a Mini Cooper. It was horrible.

Since then, I’ve been re-cooperating at home. My people have been treating me really nicely, buying me new treats, rubbing my stomach for a while, and keeping the cold air coming out of those gate things in the wall. That last one is a life-saver let me assure you. I’ve got a permanent fur coat; it’s not cool -literally. So, anyway, I’ve been trying to keep a low profile, mainly in hopes the nice treatment from my people will continue, but also because I’m back in Prince Milo mode.

Prince Milo, I really love the sound of that. It has a certain je n’ai sais quoi. Maybe I was once bred for the royal treatment? I’d like to think so. I’d lay upon a pillow, the windows wide open, fresh catnip being left around the room… oh, I forgot, I should keep this PG. Ex-nay on the catnip-ay.

There was a slight discrepancy in the simple life of yours truly: invasion.

I know what you’re thinking… Milo, what kind of invasion?! How could this happen to you? Well, I’ll tell you. It was traumatizing!

Apparently, my people are part of this thing called a “family”. These strange people who sort of smell like MY people came into my home and invaded my territory! Bad enough that I have to share with the friggin’ dog, but these people? Completely unnecessary!

(By the way, the dog and I have been getting along famously… I keep knocking shit over when my people aren’t home, and they keep blaming the dog. Milo +37, Levi - 0. Sucker.)

Last night, however, these strange smelling people entered into my domain and brought in a spy. I almost had to have words with my people, but I realized that they’re not nearly on my level, and the conversation would never get anywhere. However, I could try to rationalize with this gigantic monstrosity that had come in to rule my roost.

I wanted to kick this intruder out of my dominion, but, alas, my people had closed the front door.

My dog, my Levi, tried to do the right thing by introducing herself to Enormous, but he was having none of it. Actually, it was pretty sad to watch, because, unlike me, this new beast wasn’t nearly at all nice to Levi. He snapped at her when she tried to sniff his butt, which I can only assume is a goodwill gesture of ‘Hello’ in the canine world, as I’ve seen her pull this trick a lot. (Usually she has better luck with it, though.)

She’s a good dog, and a good companion; we don’t speak the same language, so she’s quiet, and we don’t eat the same food, so she can’t steal from me. All in all, our relationship is quite balanced. Seeing her being mistreated by Dumbo, on the other hand, was actually pretty painful to watch. No one messes with my plaything and gets away with it!

I came up with a plan, and watched as it slowly unfolded itself into play. I figure, to get the stranger dog out of the house, I’m going to need him to piss off the people, so when Levi gets snubbed one more time, I’m going to sneak up behind it.

Alright, here’s my moment. There goes Levi, looking all pathetic, and trying to cuddle up to the new guy… oh, and there’s the snub. Did he just bite at her? Oh no. No no no, that won’t do at all. As soon as Levi scooted out of the way, I took my first claw and swiped it across Brutus’ butt. It worked even better than I’d imagined! He was totally taken by surprise and took off into the Peoples’ room… and then managed to knock his fast ass into the ‘mom’, making her spill her drink! Oh, this is excellent. I wish you could see this!

‘Mom’ told ‘Dad’ to get rid of the strange beast, and made his people take him outside by the collar! Levi, slightly recovered from her disparaging moment, had her nosed pressed to the window, waiting in anticipation to see whether or not the mystery beast would come back… but when Levi lost interest and left her place, I moseyed over to the window.

I jumped onto the sill and wrapped my tail around my legs. I am Prince Milo, after all.

I looked out the window to the spy who bored me, and I said… “et tu, Brute? Shove it up your derriere.”

No one messes with my play thing and gets away with it.

***
"Et tu, Brute?"

Merci beaucoup, mon amies. Tu et tres magnifique!

This is not a post... I repeat

2011-06-07T21:40:00.000-04:00

This is merely a "props to me" address for everyone to see...

Today is 5 Months Cigarette Free!!!

Giggle Button!

2011-06-07T20:35:00.002-04:00

Ladies and Gents, Peeps, Kids... Whomever you are and whatever you choose to answer to... something amazing has happened....

I made it to the GIGGLE BUTTON!

::swoon::
::blush::
::jump up and down and giggle like said button describes::

Yes, that's right. I made the giggle button. Someone recommended me to Jumble Mash to be her random blog on the giggle button... For those of you who don't know, this is FANTASTIC and AWE-INSPIRING.

I might have to stop this post here, regroup, and come back... for those of you who are new, welcome! Read your way into my life, follow me, and comments are more than welcomed, they're almost necessary to my functioning as a semi-normal human being.

::going to regroup:::

Accosted

2011-06-04T17:42:00.000-04:00

I am angry, and I'll tell you why.

Today is my day off, and, naturally, I tried to run some errands. I picked up my paycheck, I went to the bank to cash it, and my final stop was the grocery store to pick up some odds 'n ends. (I'd normally go to CVS or some other drug-store-esque place, but I didn't want to drive 15 minutes further than my house.)

After showing up to the grocery store, I found that I have issues. Maybe you most loyal followers (and the other peeps who aren't YET following me *hem hem*) can identify with these few issues that I realized bother me so...

*Why are the razor blades ALWAYS locked up in the aisle?
Seriously, I'm starting to get annoyed about this. I understand that this is a counter-measure against domestic terror, aka snot-nosed fourteen year old rugrats who probably aren't old enough to shave, let alone have $ of their own, but let's get real. If my Shick Quattro for Women razor refills are so scandalous, just have them behind the counter, so I can get them quickly and move on. I don't want to have to go to the aisle, figure out which are mine, leave the aisle, find an employee who is NOT going to be happy that I am asking him/her to move from their designated lean-spot, and drag them to use a fucking magnet-like key to pop the piece of plastic from the left to the right, just to go back to their lean-spot once more and talk shit about me because I made them do their job. Plus, the locks are very misleading, so you don't actually know that their locked up until you get there and try to pull them down and put them in your cart/basket.

*Why must I get accosted for money outside of the grocery store?
It never fails. I pull up to the store to try and get the stuff I need, and there are about 35 little boys or girls in uniform with cans a la holes in the top, and fliers about what kind of thing they're going to do with MY hard-earned money. I can't even walk into the building without someone drooling on my shoe and shoving a can in my face, begging for my change. No, I don't want to give my change to you. If I wanted to, I would come over and give it to you voluntarily. What happened to the good-old days where the boy scouts and girl scouts would do stuff to earn the money... like sell cookies, or bake sales, or some other disguised-bullshit-ritual like that? Why do they think it's okay to just ask for the money without providing a service? I provide a service (making coffee) for my paycheck, so they should, too. Miniature bullshit artists.

*Why do I have to pay a quarter to use a cart?
That's just jerk-facery.

Grr!!!

Musings and Whatnot

2011-06-02T00:42:00.000-04:00

Today marks June 1st.
I know this, because my cell phone told me.

Almost half of the year has gone by, and it made me think about some things that I'd like to get done, and proud of things that I have already accomplished this year.

Miss Amy (whose blog is quirky/funny, and who herself is quite endearing) inspired me a bit the other day with her "In May" post, which you can check out Here. She wrapped up her month in a very succinct way, and made it seem, even if it wasn't, that she was mighty productive and got things done. I think I am going to start something like this... because maybe it will make me feel more accomplished.

Things I Accomplished This Year:
-Quitting smoking. Again.
Almost 5 months, and still going strong.
-Saved over $1,000 dollars in a savings account.
I'm super impressed that I could do this, because it's really hard for me to be able to put anything away, especially since I lost my job in April.
-Fulfilled my dream of being able to yell at the BINGO hall without getting accosted.
-Started writing again.
-Fell in love a little with Jack Johnson and Adele.

I feel like I should set some goals for June, but so far I'm not coming up with anything solid. I think maybe my goal for June will be to set legit goals for July. Yeah, that works.

End of the Rainbow

2011-06-01T14:15:00.000-04:00

Hey, it's Indie Ink time again! Hooray!

I had a great challenge given to me by Miranda whose prompt will be at the end. This was a prompt to get some creative juices flowing without limiting me to a certain path, so thank you very much, madam.
I, in turn, challenged Disease, whose response can be found Here.

"End of the Rainbow"

Ladies and gentlemen, I have excellent news. I have finally had a breakthrough!

Sorry, my apologies. I am Professor Mark Desjardin, and I have just discovered the most wonderful, exciting, pragmatically satisfying, oh, I’m getting ahead of myself. I do that sometimes. Let me fill you in on my past, so you’ll know the reason for my ecstatic outburst.

I’ve spent the last three years studying, learning, researching a phenomenon so intense, dreams are created from it. I have spent one thousand and ninety-five days slaved over data, scientific models, charts and graphs, waiting for the key to tie all the pieces together. I have sacrificed holidays, birthdays, vacation, sick time, family bbqs, and celebrations to determine the complex ratios of water to light, and at what exact zenith the sun needs to be in to create the multicolored arc that appears *supposedly* at random.

I have taken up the work of Rene Descartes from over three thousand years ago, studying optics and the ways that the human eye bends natural light. I have studied the path and “life” of a rainbow, from beginning to end, and am on my way to finding what exactly one might find at the end.

You may think I’m foolish, and many would agree with you, but I will defend my findings to anyone at anytime. I plan to publish my work when my journey is complete.

As I stand now, I am outside of a rainforest in South America. Through my research, I have determined that the sun’s zenith will allow for the two ends of a rainbow made today, appearing at 5 pm in the afternoon, in the middle of March, during a non-leap year, to be at both Prince Edward’s Island, Nova Scotia, and Bogota, Colombia, respectively. Naturally, I chose to be in the country of Colombia, where a rainbow is more likely to be vivid, due to the humidity and the proximity to the sun.

Naturally.

I have just finished walking four and a half miles to the determined destination of the end of the rainbow of the Spring Equinox. I am a scientist. I do not believe in luck; however, if I did, I would say that today was a good luck sort of day, seeing as the days are getting longer and the sun is out longer in the sky.

Charles, my research assistant is positioned approximately 7 miles away, to determine when the rainbow is going to be at its brightest. It is then that I can make it to the bottom of the rainbow, to see if it actually exists, and what I might find there.

Alright, it’s go time. Charles has just radioed, and that is my cue. I start walking, making my way through brush and mud. I detest the creepy, crawly insects found in the rainforest, but it is a job hazard, unfortunately. I am French; we are much too classy for “nature”. We do not associate with insects.

Finally, I was through the clearing! I had, after my long and arduous journey through the thick, dense, towering structures built by Mother Nature, managed to find…

…nothing.

The rainbow was gone.

Journey complete, and unsuccessful.

My prompt was: Write about seeing a rainbow, following it to the end and what you find there.

Poetry, take 2?

2011-05-31T00:22:00.000-04:00

Martyr for Sale

You cry on me and weigh me down.

In the past

I’d have kept asking for more,

But not this time.

I’m tired of asking,

“Where’s my shoulder?”

“Where’s my ear?”

Where can I get a martyr of my very own?

Someone to listen to my every complaint, my every word,

To be at my beck and call.

I’ve checked e-bay, and even Amazon,

But they’re all out of stock.

I bet they’ve got one at Wal-Mart.

I call customer service and ask for

“Self-help”,

But the lady on the other end “just started here”

And isn’t sure.

She passes me off to a man who says,

In monotone,

“Use the non-committal entrance; make a left by the passive aggressives,

Continue on until you see the obsessive-compulsive aisle, and make a sharp left.

The martyrs will jump out at you.”

I thank him for that little help, and hang up the phone.

Save Money. Live Better. Walmart.

Remember that time...

2011-05-30T00:04:00.000-04:00

...I realized I was a fucking moron?
Oh, yeah, me too.

2011-05-25T10:33:00.000-04:00

Hello - Indie Ink challenge time again. I was challenged by Tara, whose prompt will be at the end. When you're done reading mine (and her's) go check out Miranda at MyEclecticBookshelf and read what she wrote based off of my prompt. Also, be advised, my prompt is dark and sad. Read at your own risk.

***

It was a belt. No euphemisms, no exaggerations. It was average size, dried out brown cowhide, and showed signs of wear. The seams were frayed. The leather was faded where the belt loops of some generic pant had rubbed against it. The studs holding the top and bottom together were coming loose, and the seams were pulled out in some places. It was just a belt.

It was purchased by a twelve year old girl two weeks before Father’s Day. It was given after a celebration dinner, where the kids made their dad his favorite meal and brought out chocolate chip cookies for dessert. The father had hee’d and haw’d over how wonderful it was, and then left it to sit in the bottom of his closet, causing the leather to dry and tear. He wasn’t thrilled. It was just a belt.

Its origins date back before the time of Lincoln. It was worn by a plantation overseer, who happened to use it on unruly slaves and land workers when he or the Master deemed necessary. The tear in the leather between the third and fourth notch-hole was made when one of the slaves lashed out in agony and clawed in an attempt to flee the punishment. The discoloration of the seams were due to dried blood that he never cared enough about to wipe away. It was just a belt.

It was made in China, at the hand of an underdeveloped twelve year old boy who worked thirteen hours a day to help supplement his family’s meager income. The dark spots in the seams come from the boy’s finger tips while he bled from hours upon hours of hand-stitching labels that read “made in China”. It showed dry-rot from sitting in a box for a year in the back of a store room, where it sat after being bought by a run-of-the-mill discount store and was kept as overstock. It was one of many. It was just a belt.

It was used as an accessory to a uniform. It, at one time, held many items necessary to aid in keeping the public safe. It was a functional article of clothing, both for the person, and for the people. It was responsible for carrying weapons. Its sole purpose was to fight crime. It was just a belt.

It was the catalyst for numerous beatings of a boy who wasn’t really a trouble maker, but had behavioral issues due to an undiagnosed condition. It was a weapon, used for evil, not good. It was used by a man who didn’t realize that his child was sick, not disobedient. It was used not just weekly, but nightly. It was snapped and whipped so drastically that the top layer was pulling away from the bottom layer in the middle. It was just a belt.

Its final task was to aid in the most selfish act a person can do. It was the weapon of choice for a fifteen year old boy who thought he didn’t have much left to live for, after being bullied and suffering a broken heart. It was used to hang himself from a support beam in the garage, and it was successful in its ambition until a rescue worker ended its life forever by slicing it in half.

It was just a belt.

The Rapture

2011-05-21T23:52:00.000-04:00

Well, Peeps, if you're reading this, you're a heathen just like me. Congratulations and welcome to the club. Looks like Heaven isn't really in the cards for us anymore... so we'll just have to party it up in Hell! Mwaahaahaa.

Sike.

Yes, I did bring back "sike". Don't judge me.

Seriously, though. I know everyone's all blah blah blah the Rapture blah blah blah global earthquakes blah blah blah save the righteous, and I'm a little bit over it, but before I decree the end of this boring topic, I need need need need to tell you about another "why me?" that I had a few days ago...

Dani and I were chatting the other day at Lisa's graduation.
(You'll remember Dani from the Bingo Epidemic.)

We were having a conversation about The Rapture, making jokes and whatnot, when some innocent-looking lady turned around and smiled at us. I thought nothing of it and continued making jokes about calling the pet store for 2 of every animal, and lesbian gerbils*.

Innocent-looking lady slows her step and tries to keep pace with me and the Why me? conversation goes as follows:

Lady: You seem to know a lot about religion.
Me: Yes, ma'am, I do. I studied religion in college and was raised Roman Catholic.
Lady: That's really nice. Do you believe in Heaven?
Me: Yep.
Lady: Do you think that you're going to go to Heaven?
Me: No, probably not.
Lady: I can tell you the secret to get into Heaven, would you like to know?
Me: Cool. Is it, like, a magic trick?
Lady: No.
(She starts to get annoyed here with my lack of acceptance of her biblical bullshit.)
Lady: All you have to do is accept the Lord God, Jesus Christ into your heart and ask for forgiveness.
Me: Really, that's it? So, if I went out and robbed a bank, and then just said I was sorry, I'd be forgiven?
Lady: No. You have to mean it.
Me: Oh, well I probably won't mean it. Oh well.

Seriously, I don't even take religious pushing from my grandmother and I love her. Why would I listen to some lady I don't know try to "save" me? No thanks.

Billy Joel said it right, I'd rather laugh with the sinners that cry with the saints, sinners have much more fun.

Plus, I've seen the movie "Saved". I know what happens.
------
*btw - I have two female gerbils, Lucy and Zoe, and they're lesbians -- they live together, sleep together, and cuddle. It's the 21st century, I feel like the Rapture should be gay-friendly.

Customer of the Day Award

2011-05-18T00:31:00.003-04:00

Why me?

Today's "Crazy Customer of the Day" goes to you, crazy lady w/ the steel gray hair on her way to Bible Study.

Congratulations! Thank you for reminding me that "would you like anything else" really means, "Why yes, please tell me all about how Obama is destroying the world with his new Socialized Healthcare, how global warming doesn't actually exist, and how the center of the Earth is only 2,000 degrees."

Also, thank you for recommending me two readings on Republican issues so I can better inform myself of how our country should be run, and filling me in on details of "the Rapture".

I am truly in your debt.

The Best Four Years of Your Life

2011-05-16T17:15:00.004-04:00

Ladies and Gents, this week's Indie Ink Challenge prompt comes from my good friend Alyssa (which I knew would happen eventually, since I challenged her in her second week). This week I tried to stray a bit from my comfort zone (which usually involves humor of some kind), so I hope that I've done her justice. The prompt will be at the end.

I challenged Sir for the second week in a row, so once you're done here, you can go on over there and see if he's surviving week #2 of Sunshine.

***

Everyone sat sharp in their seats, straight backed, eyes forward, and hands fastidiously documenting everything being said. She, on the other hand, sat in the back row, lounging disgracefully in her seat, picking at chipped nail polish, acting as if she were bothered to be in attendance. To be honest, it wasn’t as if she had to be there; she chose to be. It wasn’t as if anyone would mind if she left; they weren’t there for her entertainment.

She listened, though, even as she appeared to be unfocused, she listened to the rest of the room talking in turn about things they’ve learned. I’ve learned to do my homework. I’ve learned time-management. I’ve learned that Liebler’s Shakespeare class is no joke. I’ve learned that I really need to do the readings. I’ve learned that flirting with Jake in the Library is definitely worth it, since he does my algebra take-home tests.

She yawned and rolled her eyes, squirmed a bit, and took to drawing on the toe of her black Converse sneaker.

A hushed silence came over the room, making her look up from her own little world. The professor repeated the question directed at her: what have you learned throughout your college career, young lady?

She sat quietly for a moment, determining whether or not she’d like to share.

The silence became uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

When finally they couldn’t take anymore, the other students started to whisper in low murmurs, which might have caused them to miss the beginning of what she had to share.

“A lot, actually. I've learned that having a roommate is supremely unexciting. I’ve learned that no one is going to have your back 100% of the time. I’ve learned that drinking at a frat party while you’re pledging a sorority is only what the sheep do to pretend that they’ve got personality. I've learned that the kid who sits in the back of my Spanish lecture really hates to be called “Jose” when his name is “Joe”, but puts up with it because he needs a good grade. I’ve learned that the only place you can get a decent cup of coffee is from the kiosk in the lobby of university hall, and the only people who visit the “Red Hawk Diner” are freshman or drunk.

I’ve learned that I am smarter than some of my professors, and have been since I was in the 7^th grade. I’ve learned that all the classes that I’ve taken during my 4 years of college are complete bullshit, and that they’re not going to help me in the slightest when I get “into the real world”. I’ve learned that time management is a necessary evil, and that it is really the only useful thing I’ve gotten out of my education.

You know what I would have liked to learn? That I should have saved my money for a place to live when I find out that I’m not going to be able to get a decent job right after graduation. What would have helped would be taking classes on how to interview, how to impress potential employers, and how to develop self-confidence rather than fear. I would have liked to learn that someone in the school system cared for something more than their paycheck. I would have liked to learn of someone who was there to guide and advise students as to what field they might be interested in studying, or what kind of life they'd like to lead once they graduated.

It would have been helpful to learn that after high school, the next four years of my life would be spent doing bullshit busy work that old rich people find acceptable in exchange for taking $20,000 dollars of me and my parents’ hard earned money, not just now, but for the next ten years. That’s what I would have liked to learn. Thanks a million, Useless State University”.

The class was stunned into silence. No one said a word, just letting her words sink in... until someone on the other side of the room said, "thank you, valedictorian of 2011."

She went back to drawing on her shoe.

***

Alyssa's prompt to me was: let's talk about college. write a story, fact or fiction, about the most important thing you gained/earned/received from those "best four years of your life.".

Lady off to China

2011-05-14T21:05:00.001-04:00

Why me?

Is there a "Talk to Me" sign on written on my forehead in invisible ink? I feel like there must be.

There I was, quietly sitting at a table in Dunkin Donuts, trying to enjoy my coffee and minding my own business, when a lonely-looking lady sits down with two cups of coffee. She turns to me and says, "oh, are you waiting for someone?"

I smile politely and finish the sip of coffee that I just took, and respond that my friend works behind the counter and I'm just waiting for the line to die down so that we can talk again. She says "that's nice" and tells me that she thinks I might work there, based on how I was dressed. I say I just came from work, at a coffee shop, and that might explain things when she says that she knows where I work and starts sharing her. entire. life. story.

Some of the topics that she covered were:
*Her Philosophy group leader recovering from "cervical" tumor surgery on his neck. (OMFG she said Cervical as opposed to Cerebral?)
*His recovery time, 3 months
*His daughter's not realizing how sick he really was
*Now Philosophy teacher holds down a job and a 1/2. (literally)
*She got a mani/pedi (by two different nail salons) because she has graduations tomorrow
*She finally went to the doctor about weight loss, and he put her on a diet
*It took her 2 years to get to this doctor
*She walks her dog a little longer these days.
*She lost 3lbs this week
*She's only been dieting for a week
*She already misses Ice Cream
*The only reason she went is because her mother (who is probably ancient) told her she'd take her to China and she is going to climb the great wall of China
*She will climb the great wall of China on September 2nd, 2011
*That is, if the world doesn't end on May 21st, 2011
*And she manages to clean her hourse
*Her "real" friends don't seem to mind a messy house, but they suggest that she have someone come in once a month to "dust"

This is the point where I called for reinforcements... aka... Leina. I expected crazy lady to start suggesting maybe I come over and help her, maybe get sucked into her dusty lair-o-doom and never get out. This terrified me, and I needed to remove myself from the situation. Thankfully, just ignoring her for approximately 3 minutes while she stared at me and begged me to continue our conversation finally threw her off her fucking creeptacular game.

So, again, I say... Why me?

Jealous

2011-05-13T18:39:00.000-04:00

Peeps!

Lately, I have been wanting to update this thing I've got going on here, and I've actually started writing many posts to follow through on my idea of updating, but every time I start one, I manage to talk myself into a reason of why I should just delete it and start over later.

Usually it's because I'm pretty lame, and I'm afraid you'll all fall asleep before the end of the post. You'll hit your head as it falls onto the keyboard. Then, you'll start drooling, inevitably starting an electrical fire or something sinister like that. I'll hear about all you people who were injured in a global (since I have a follower from the UK) epidemic (pandemic? one of them is worse than the other, but I don't have enough time to look it up, so we'll stick with epidemic), sources unknown, and then I'll feel guilty.

Anyway, I digress.

This was my first week back in the Indie Ink challenge, and I was really glad to be part of it again. I love to write. I love more that I have people that read what I write, whether it be good or bad or whatever.

Today I had an interview with America's Most Convenient Bank. I''m hoping to hear back from the Human Resources lady this afternoon about an interview. I keep crossing my fingers (toes, eyes, arms, and legs) that something is going to come through, so I guess really I have to feel content that I'm staying positive.

I have been blog stalking lately... I haven't had the "umph" to write my own posts, but I have been stalking others (including, but not limited to, Lilu, Mommy Wants Vodka, Jumble Mash, Everyday A, Mrs. Hyde, Sir, Alyssagoesbang, and My Plaid Pants).

I have come to the conclusion that:
1.) my blog is slightly more lame after reading everyone else's, and
2.) that I am super jealous of the level of tech-savvy that you peeps seem to have, and
3.) that I am even more pathetic for being jealous. :)

Ah, well. Who cares. This is a broach into writing. I promised myself at the beginning that I wouldn't hit the backspace* button at all in this post (except to correct spelling errors).

I'm going to call it a wrap on this one, because I feel that I just might be one of those people to suffer from that "unfortunate global epidemic" of falling asleep while I re-read this.

If anyone wants to email me with donations of time and effort and monotonous conversations with me about trying to explain how to make my page fancy, you can email me at ConnorsV1@gmail.com... I know My Plaid Pants has already tried to explain to me what the "Edit HTML" button does, but that went way over my head... I'm not sure if she's going to want to risk that kind of disaster converation with me again...

...but the rest of you peeps might.
mwahaahaahhaa.

If I could be a superhero...

2011-05-09T01:03:00.001-04:00

It is Indie Ink time again. I took some time off, but I've really missed being a part of this challenge, and a part of such an awesome group of people...

This week I was challenged by Dili with an awesome prompt that really made me think. You can find it at the bottom. I, in turn, challenged Sir, whose story about an Oklahoma Biker Bar you can find here.

***

Dear You-Who-Are-Lacking-In-The-Heroics-Department,

Doctor Mary F'ing Sunshine suggested that you write yourself a letter. She wants you to try and lift yourself up, because "stress can cause mental difficulties to become physical deficiencies" or some bullshit like that.

Really, I'd rather write her a friggin' letter, and explain to her that the life of a super hero isn't as glamorous as Marvel makes it out to be. She says, in that nasal-y, disgusting, makes-you-wanna-cover-your-face-with-your-shirt voice that "a life of chaos is not really a life at all." What does she know? She wouldn't be complaining if she was the one to call me when her car was hanging off the side of a bridge, would she? No. She'd be all "Oh, you're my hero!! Marry me! I love you!" to which I'd gag, pretend to cough up some dust, smile, and set her on her merry way.

So I don't have a legitimate "home". So I don't have a family here. So what?! I have myself, and at the end of the day, that's really all that matters. I am going to write you this letter because you friggin' deserve a pat on the back. It's not easy being a super hero. This life isn't pretty, and not just anyone can do it.

You. Are. Bad. Ass.

You really are! You have to be to put up with the public's shit day after day and night after night, with nothing more than an empty "thank you". They think you do this all for fun! They think that it is your life's calling to serve them! Boy, are they wrong. They are just the catalyst for you to serve your penance. Little do they know that your picture-perfect-front-page-sparkling-smile is just a facade... little do they know that you actually know what the word facade means! Smug bastards.

It's not really your fault that your "powers" are lacking lately. You're tired. You're overworked and ~~don't get a dime~~ underpaid. You're getting older. It'd be nice if someone (Dad) would take some sympathy on you and wipe your slate clean... even prisoners on this planet get time off for good behavior!

It's okay, though. You'll survive. You are meant for great things, and helping these little pissants are just a small part of that.

So, I say to you, Oh-Amazing-One, take a break. Use this time as a rest and a recharge, and use it well. You don't get vacation time. You don't get sick days. You don't get bonuses. You get spit on and laughed at and ridiculed if you can't do something right. You are loved for a moment, and hated the next. You can never win with everyone, so win this one for yourself. Take a deep breath, drink some fuckin' pina coladas, get the hell out of dodge for a while, and relax.

Dr. Sunshine can shove it. And so can anyone else who doesn't think the sun shines out of your ass.

Love,

Your Biggest Fan,

Yourself

***

My prompt was "a superhero with no superpowers".

Give me... another trophy?

2011-05-04T15:49:00.000-04:00

I made a big mistake!

I totally received an award from Jumble Mash when I guest posted over on her blog!

I am SOOOOOO sorry I didn't report this, but to be honest, I didn't know this was real.

Pssht. Whatever. I am still awesome.

Click hereherehereherehere to read the post that I wrote for Ms. Jumble Mash! It was Ha-larious. Thanks a bunch and even more.

Love,
Me (and Jumble Mash, I'm sure, for pimpin' her out a bit more)

Velvet Verbosity Challenge

2011-05-03T22:10:00.001-04:00

I was blog-stalking, and found the Velvet Verbosity 100-word challenge, and the word-prompt this week was "Family". So, I felt something in my gut, and I wrote it.

"Mom"

Love means never having to say you’re sorry, but knowing you should anyway.

There are so many things that I need to say to you, but you’re gone. I will write you as many letters as possible until I feel I have said all the things I need to say, but I already know they won’t do any good, because you won’t be able to respond. You won’t be able to say “I love you” anymore. You didn’t say it much, anyway, but I know now I always knew.

Blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood.

Milo the Cat

2011-05-03T20:45:00.002-04:00

This is a fiction piece that I was inspired to write thanks to an offhand comment by my good friend My Plaid Pants about a Cat, a Car, and being stung by a bee. Hope you enjoy it.

***

Boy, have I had a shitty day.

I' have overheard my people say, "Oh, to have the life of a cat!" sigh in awe of a life of no responsibility, plenty of relaxation and pampering, and treats, but I am here to assure you that life of a cat, especially in my case, is not, in fact, as easy as you might think.

Don't get me wrong, 99% of the time, my life is grand. I spend my days lying in a pool of sunshine on the living room carpet, my paws stretched out far and wide, purring like there is nothing more satisfying than having my own private sunny island all to myself. I spend my nights annoying the dog, knowing that she likes to sleep on the living room couch, so I swat at her tail and make her twitch.

She doesn't find it nearly as amusing as I do.

My troubles, however, started this morning. One of my people, the "dad", left for work this morning pretty early -- earlier than he usually leaves, which is when it's still dark outside. I, for one, don't understand why humans will get up and leave the house in the dark. Don't they understand that there isn't anything that important that can't wait until daytime, if they have to go out at all? Geez.

They haven't figured out yet that I like to hide near the door and plot my escape. Well, maybe they have figured it out, but they can't stop me. I'm a cat on a mission. Anywho, so he left (in the friggin' dark), and I made my way out, too. I was excited for my day of wilderness adventure. Little did I know what was in store for me.

I made it out of the house and into the yard. I skirted my way through the garden, climbed the recyclable can, and then jumped onto a low branch to take stock of my new kingdom. There were a few birds in the tree, which I despise, so I hissed and took a swipe, and they left my tree.

Milo, +1. Birds, 0.

Unfortunately, while I was trying to prove my superiority over the pesky birds, I got assaulted! I don't think you can understand my plight. Something bit my ass.

SOMETHING BIT MY ASS!

I made a guttural howl and booked out of there. The vegetarian, or whatever they call the guy who tries to stick that stick thing up my butt, would later tell my people that I was "stung" by a bee, but I'm more inclined to believe that this "bee" tried to kill me and deserves sweet revenge.

Milo, 0. Bee, +1. Bravo, bee, bravo. Just wait.

I tried to make myself feel better by prowling a little more, but sadly, I only made it to the street before I started to feel a little nauseous. My stomach was churning, and I wasn't sure why. I hadn't eaten anything in a while. I jumped up onto the hood of this tiny car (and I mean tiny! I can't even believe these gigantic-sized humans actually fit into this miniature car) and tried to lay in the sun a little bit. I thought maybe the sunlight would make me feel better, but it turns out that jumping onto the car was what it took to make me sick.

Yep. I totally ralphed on the hood of this little maroon car.*

Oops.

I managed to stumble home where the "mom" found me laying next to the door. She took me to get help, ASAP and I'm finally fit as a fiddle. The vegetarian prescribed lots of lounging in the sun, on the living room carpet, and swatting at the dog. I think I can handle this for a while.

By the way...

Dear Miniature Car Owner,
If you're reading this, you can leave the cleaning bill to the car in the big Maple tree on the corner of Alpine Boulevard. Be sure to leave it in the care of "Pain in the Ass Bee Who Tried to Kill Milo".
Sincerely,
Milo the Cat

*Don't worry, the vegetarian gave me a stick that was only slightly less painful than the attack by the ass-exploding bee, but it cleared my sickness right up.

Give me a friggin' trophy!

2011-05-02T22:54:00.000-04:00

Peeps!!! There is some glorious news afoot!

No, I wasn't referring to the death of He Who Must Now Swim with Fishes... Though, to some this is much more glorious than anything I could ever share, but I digress...

Pencilgirl thought I deserved this!!! (look below)

I have never ever won an award before, and never ever EVER been called Stylish... just ask my friends... but this is ridiculously exciting to me!!! Just look at all the exclamation points that I've used thus far!!

As far as I know, I am supposed to share some facts with you loyal subjects... er, followers.... so I will do that. Then, I am to pass it on... I don't know how many facts, or how many pass-on's I'm supposed to give, but... I'll just make it up :) Go me.

Facts:
-I am addicted to emoticons. ( :) =) =/ <3 =P etc). If we are texting, you can be sure that you will see AT LEAST one per message...
-I try to refrain from using them in blog posts because I feel like they disrupt my ideas.
-I speak Jiberish.
-Idigi cidigan idigalsidigo tidigype idigit. (I can also type it.)
-I have all the words to Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby memorized.
-I don't like chocolate, unless it happens to be w/ peanut butter.
-My best friend Kat wants to put me on "what not to wear" on TLC, and I secretly fear this might be a good idea.

As for the pass ons:
My Plaid Pants because she's become an interesting read, a good listener, and a new friend :)
Alyssagoesbang because she is, afterall, super stylish, and she inspires me.
Everyday A because her blog has a new layout that happens to be super stylish, and she makes me laugh
Jumble Mash even though I'm pretty sure she's already got this blog award a bazillion times...
and finally...
Doc Cynicism because I hope it might make him slightly uncomfortable to know he is stylish. =)

Thanks! This was a real highlight to my less than happy few weeks... Here's to good things to come. <3

Update to The List!

2011-05-01T01:06:00.009-04:00

I really should have listened when Miss Amy suggested making a list with three items on it, because three is not too few that it might be considered easy, but not too many that you can't feel good when you finish them all...

I didn't really get through most of my list the way I wanted, but thankfully my imagination and propensity to talk myself into anything really aids in helping me feel better about my lack of accomplishments this week...

*Val's Real World To-Do List*

-~~Buy water bottle for Jasper (rabbit)~~

I also bought new bedding and changed his cage out, so +1 to me.

-~~Send out Job Applications/Resumes~~

I sent out, like, 2.... so that counts.

-Look into Substitute Teaching Licence

-Buy Shorts/ Flip Flops

Was told to wait on this for Sharkboi so we could go together...

~~-Clean Squirt (car)~~

Squirt is already in the shop until Monday, w/o getting cleaned, so really, I still win. Maybe even +1

~~-Get Squirt fixed (so it stops overheating everyday)~~

We're working on this still.

-Fill out unemployment paperwork

~~-Pick up final paycheck from Rec~~

It was practically gift wrapped for me, so I couldn't NOT get it....

~~-Pick up check from BN~~

I forgot, I don't get one this week... so that counts... easy-peasy.

-Go to the Bank

See, peeps! Even without actually doing some of my tasks, I still managed to cross them off! If that isn't optimism, I don't know what is...

Real World List

2011-04-27T20:45:00.001-04:00

Hey Peeps!

Okay, so here goes. The last two weeks have been the worst of my entire life... and I'm not joking, or emphasizing, or dramatizing, or exaggerating (all of which I usually do on a regular basis). I have had to handle so many "adult" things this week, I feel like I'm 47, rather than 25. No one wants to feel 47 at the age of 25. Ever. EVER.

I want to go on record and call myself out on the fact that when bad things happen, I have the tendency to hibernate (my friend Thelma called me out on this last week while *the bad shit* was going down) so today at dinner, Thelma and I decided that I needed to get some things done in an attempt to make myself feel better and not go into hibernation mode.

Before we came up with this list, however, I STILL managed to get some things done... not a lot, but something more than just "wake up" (which I think I should get a gold star for... someone feel free to send one).*

The List goes as follows:

*Val's Real World To-Do List*
-Buy water bottle for Jasper (rabbit)
-Send out Job Applications/Resumes
-Look into Substitute Teaching Licence
-Buy Shorts/ Flip Flops
-Clean Squirt (car)
-Get Squirt fixed (so it stops overheating everyday)
-Fill out unemployment paperwork
-Pick up final paycheck from Rec
-Pick up check from BN
-Go to the Bank

I am going to attempt to do some of these list items tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure the only one I'm really going to enjoy is "Buy Shorts/ Flip Flops"...

* The things that I accomplished today before the List was:
-Woke up (very important)
-Got out of bed (also very important)
-Did two loads of Laundry
-Made breakfast
-Watched America's Next Top Model Marathon until 4pm.

Success

Love stinks.

2011-04-19T10:44:00.000-04:00

I wanted to submit this post to keep you Peeps entertained while I'm being forced to handle a lot of adult things that are really above my pay grade.

I was sparked with an idea to write about my experience with unrequited love after having ~~stalked~~ read Didactic Pirate's story of unrequited love. He really inspired me to share my idiocy, no offense, Sir Pirate.

I was, and still am, a sucker for L'amour. Any sort of door holding, flower giving, chivalry, white horse, fairytale shit, I love it. Bring it on. It will bring tears to my eye and add an extra size to my heart.

Now, when I was in high school, I really thought that I was in love with a boy named Steven. He was a friend, a part of "the group".... and oh, yeah, he was interested in my cousin Kelli. (This is after I had gotten over the fact that I was smitten with my sister's boyfriend, too. I know, I need therapy.)

I suffered in silence, not one to interrupt Steven's attempt at love with Kelli. I sat with it all summer until August, when it was time for Steven to go back to South Carolina... here is where my idealistic views of love and romance come in...

I wrote out my feelings. I cried my heart out about why he should want to be with me, because we would be cute together, I would give him massages, we could hold hands, and watch movies, and things would be rainbows and butterflies! (well, not butterflies, cuz they scare me.) I really thought that my idea was going to be romantic, he'd get tears in his eyes, his heart would swell too, and we'd run off into the sunset together in my Chevy Corsica.

Did I mention that I wrote this all out on post-its, and stuffed it into his High School Jacket pocket while he was sleeping?

Yeah... I was that girl. (Don't try to deny it, I know you all did some pathetic things, too... feel free to share)

Hey peeps.

2011-04-16T22:17:00.000-04:00

Hey Peeps,

This isn't a real post, so apologies for any excitement I may have caused with my presence. I just wanted to put it out there that my mom passed away two days ago and that I might not be around for a little while... but that does NOT mean that you are allowed to forget about me. I will be very upset with you.

Just so that you don't think I bailed too much, I had a smidge of a rant to share with you:

Why is it that EVERYONE asks, once they hear that she passed, am I okay? Yes, I'm so fucking okay that I'm pissing glitter and running with unicorns. We're having a party and all are invited. No, I'm not okay. My mom was taken from me tragically and unexpectedly. I am not okay. What's worse is that I feel obligated to respond with "I'm okay" or "I'm fine" because I don't want to make the question-asker even more uncomfortable with my "No, I want to crawl in a hole and die, myself" response. Grrr.

Be back soon, I hope.

Sunshine (w/ a chance of cloudyness for some future forecasts)

'Thanks again"

2011-04-13T20:07:00.000-04:00

IndieInk challenge once again! This is my fourth post, and I was challenged by Karla V. My buddy, Alyssa, answered my specific challenge on her blog.

***

Being in her house is a sad and punishing affair. I knew it would be hard, to get on without her, but I wasn't prepared for the struggle that was before me.

I walked through the door and into the hallway, carefully closing the door behind me. I made sure to double check all the locks, knowing that she’d remind me to do so if she were here. She’s always had confidence in me, but treated me with kid gloves anyway. I laughed as I glanced at the alarm pad, remembering the time I brought her home drunk and was petrified that I’d set the alarm off in the middle of the night and alert her father to our reckless abandon. I asked her for the code, but she gave me the pin to her Debit Card instead.

I stopped in the kitchen to fill the bowls of food for the kids, the three felines that she rescued from homelessness during a thunderstorm years ago. They were good kids, rarely getting into fights, but they made messes with their food. She was always cleaning up after one of their spills. I can still hear her yelling, “Mario!” as he’d step in his food bowl and knock the yellow pellets onto the carpet. She’d pretend to be mad, but then just laugh as he gave her a look, one that meant he knew what he was doing, but was too cute to get in trouble. It’s true, though; he was too cute to ever get in trouble.

I did the dishes in the sink, the one chore that she really hated. I couldn’t leave them, knowing how much it irked her to see them pile up, so I took the five minutes necessary and made sure everything was neat and tidy. I knew she would have appreciated it, had she known I’d done it.

I walked up the stairs, holding onto the banister and looking at the pictures of her family, the same ones that I’ve been looking at for six months. I feel like they are a part of my family, and yet, I stare at them again, like I’ve never seen them before. I take a minute to memorize the pictures of her grandparents, on their wedding day, in the ugly brass frame that comes from another time. The picture of her mom’s favorite dog. The people that I feel like I know, but don’t.

I opened the door to her room, like I’ve done a hundred times, and it hits me again that she’s gone. I miss her more than words can say. I’ve cried everyday for a week. I don’t want to be in here without her.

Something on the bed catches my eye; I’ve got the room memorized, I know when something is amiss.
I sit on the bed, knowing that what I find here will not be very pleasant. There is a letter addressed to me:

Hey Val,
Thanks for coming to feed the kids while I’m away. Don’t forget to water the plants, too, okay?
Also, do you think you can pick up and deposit my paycheck on Thursday? I’m going to need the money in my account while I’m in California. Stay at the house as much as you want, but make sure you lock the door when you leave. I’ve left you a key so you don’t have to go searching for the spare.
Also, don’t set off the alarm, or my dad will have a fit. I’ll be home on the 18th.
Thanks again,
Lisa

I shake my head as I re-read the letter, already knowing that I've got to get to the bank before it closes. She owes me, I think to myself as I close the door and head down the stairs.

***
Prompt: Being the tool of somebody else's bidding can be a sad and punishing affair. For your challenge, write a piece (fiction or not) about a situation in which you are the one doing someone else's bidding. What are the circumstances? Why are you doing this? How do you feel? What is next?

Guest Blogger on Jumble Mash!

2011-04-13T19:33:00.000-04:00

Hey there, peeps. FYI - I was a guest blogger at Jumble Mash! Go find her, stalk her, love her as I do, and follow her =)

Slacker

2011-04-07T16:01:00.001-04:00

{What if you were going to lose your job tomorrow?}

I feel pretty slacker-ish as of late.

I'm not a slacker (for the most part) but I am facing some difficult times ahead. Tomorrow is my last day at the job I've held for almost seven years and, although it's a Friday and I'll be going home for the weekend, I'm pretty terrified about what I'm going to do come Monday morning. I've never faced unemployment before. What if I never find a decent* job?

I have a lot of people in my life that are trying to keep me "Glass is half-full" lately, and I really do appreciate it. I really am trying to ~~convince myself~~ remind myself of all the good things I've got going for me (like my car hasn't puffed it's last puff of black smoke, or that I'm relatively healthy, or that I am not Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas), but it has a way of sneaking up on me when I least expect it.

I'm not going to lie - I sort-of, maybe, kind of, have been making a list of the things that I am going to do come Monday (not really Monday as in the day after Sunday, but as in the first day that I don't have to get up at 6:30 a.m. to get ready for work).

I intend on:
-keeping my room ridiculously neat/organized
-going to the doctor, now that I don't have to take off of work to do it
-cleaning out my car
-running errands that don't seem to be able to happen after 5pm
-trying to find a better, more satisfying job

There is more, but the deprression-monster is rearing it's ugly head again.

Does anyone have any advice?

*meaning not at the Drive-Thru at McDonalds.

An Awkward Moment

2011-04-06T12:04:00.002-04:00

It is IndieInk Writing Challenge time again!

This week, week #3 for me, I was challenged by Transplantedx3: "You seem to have very eclectic taste in books - take 1 character each from your top 3 favorite books - put them in an elevator - write the scene." I found this pretty challenging due to the fact that most of my favorite characters are actually superheroes/magic/uberstrong/extremely sci-fi and could bust out of an elevator in about 30 seconds. Also, my challenge was expertly answered by Fina, which can be found here.

An Awkward Moment

Meet me in New York City, she says! As if coming half way across the world is so easy. Okay, so it might be a little easy, seeing as how I can Apparate when and where I want, for the most part. Still, I’d really rather have had her come to me, but she’d just tell you that it’s because I’m lazy. I’m not lazy, just a bit underhanded; I blame my brothers. Thanks a lot, Hermione. Now I’m trapped here in the yelly-vator in the dark, without my wand, in a building that looks like a steel pencil, with two strange muggles.

Okay, one doesn’t look that strange, but the other one is frightening. Seriously, she’s got a spiked collar around her neck that I thought only dogs used. I want to say she’s a female muggle, but she kind of looks like a teenage boy with “issues”. There is black eye makeup that Hermione would shudder from and her hair is sticking up in straight points. She’s got more leather than Hagrid’s winter coat, but she’s about the size of Ginny’s pigmy puff, Arnold.

The pretty girl seems as nervous as I am. Maybe I should attempt to be a gentleman and introduce myself. I wish Harry were here. He’s much better at manners than I am. It’s not that I don’t want to be polite; I just don’t seem to have the ability. If Harry were here, he’d just open his mouth and charm the pants right off her with his “Chosen One” routine.

Here goes nothing.

“So… Uhh… Whatsyername?” I mumbled. Of course I mumbled! Leave it to me to ruin even the most basic question.

“My name is Sookie Stackhouse, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Ron. Ron Weasley.”

She smiles a little, but doesn’t make much eye contact with me. I think she’s waiting for the other person to introduce themselves, and I want to tell her not to hold her breath. We both turned to look at the creepy one, wondering if we were going to get a name from… is it a boy or a girl? I really don’t know, and that’s not just my rudeness coming out. I’m going to have to ask Hermione again why muggle girls think it’s fashionable to put holes in their face. Honestly, it’s very unnecessary. And Ugly.

I am still waiting for Freaky to acknowledge us.

She refuses to make eye contact with either one of us. I don’t really care, because she’s more frightening than You-Know-Who, but I think Sookie expects to get an answer. Sookie seems really innocent. She keeps shifting her eyes from me to freaky girl, expecting us to say more. I think I’ll wait.

Sookie turns back to me, in what I can only assume is an attempt at distraction, and says “You doin’ okay there, Ron?” I just stare at her for a moment before I nod my head. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll say something like, “No, I’m not okay. I’m stuck in a metal box, hanging seventeen floors in the air, only hanging on by a cable that is probably old and fraying and we’re going to die here, whether we either fall to our death, or Freaky Freakerson over here will kill us while we blink!”

I wonder if Sookie can tell I’m a wizard? She keeps looking at me, trying to see ‘past’ me, if that makes any sense. I try to give myself the once over, to make sure my shirt’s not on backward or something, but I think everything is in order. How embarrassing would it be if I’m sitting here trying to play it cool but my zipper’s undone? They’d take the Mickey for sure.

I feel like we’ve been in this box for days. This is ridiculous.

Wait. Freaky’s getting up. “What are you going to do?” Sookie asks her.

Freaky doesn’t answer, but continues staring at the ceiling. She’s being rude. I know rude, and she’s definitely being rude. “Oye,” I say, “You’re acting very rude.”

She turns sharply towards me to glare, but goes right back to examining the ceiling. Finally, she says, “I’ve had enough of this,” and no kidding, wedges herself against the door walls, pops open a hatch on the roof, and hoists herself out.

She leans her head through the hatch and, in an accent belonging to another continent, she says, “Lisbeth Salander”.

Then, she is gone.

Saturday Night Epidemic

2011-04-03T17:24:00.000-04:00

I recently witnessed an epidemic.

Two of my friends and I met up for dinner last night, and afterwards we decided to have a night on the town!!

Now, I know what you're thinking... dancing, drinks, wine'n'dine, shmoozing, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, that is the kind of glamorous lady I portray...

... but you'd be wrong.

Last night, I went to Bingo.

(No jokes.)

Bingo is a great time. I, myself, have been known to attend bingo a time or two in the past, but for reasons unknown, I'd strayed away. It's cheap, relatively simple and something different from the usual movies or bowling, but if you're not used to it, you could find yourself in "culture shock". You see, normal as these people might be by day, when the magic bingo hour falls upon them, the locals become wild, ruthless, and savage.

The hall was packed; seats were hard to come by, especially three next to each other. None of the regulars, who are already in their *zone* appreciate being bothered. They will not move to help you find a seat. They will not adjust their things to give you more space. However, we managed to make it work. (Lisa and I got two seats together, but Dani had to try and squeeze past a large man (who had long hair like a woman), whose stomach hung over the table, by taking a running leap!)

The lady that I sat next to was not a pleasant woman. She had all her boards and blotters set out in front of her, but she had more than enough room, so I put my stuff down next to her to get situated. About half way through the game she turns to me and says, "Don't move over any closer, baby". I turned to look at her, held my tongue, and said, "Uh.. oh... okay" because I didn't want to turn into a savage like the rest of them.

Later on, though, this lady had her hand resting over MY boards, to the point where I had to dot around her hand! Well, let me tell you, I got the last laugh* on that one because I dotted her hand... OH YES, I DID. (And Dani was there to protect me)

Here is where the epidemic comes in.

The not-nice-lady sitting next to me had some interesting artifacts placed in front of her that I didn't notice when I sat down...

Elephant Statues

Um. What?

This isn't the worst of it. The lady (whose mustache rivaled the previously mentioned 'man whose belly hung over the table') on the other side of Dani had full-bodied elephant statues!!!!

Full-Bodied Elephant Statues = Epidemic

I know that elephants are supposed to represent knowledge... but what are they gonna do for you at bingo?

*****

*I did get the last laugh... I won (sans elephants) and she didn't!

Bite me, lady.

Silver Mind Control

2011-04-02T17:09:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, while ~~eavesdropping~~ minding my own business, I overheard possibly the best conversation ever in the entire world. I don't think I could make this up if I tried.

I'm going to set the stage for you.

I am sitting at my desk, chatting and conversing on the computer while successfully avoiding paperwork. Henry, my "custodial engineer" is sitting at the desk in front of me. Debbie (whose name has been changed to protect the dim-witted) is standing on the other side of the desk from Henry.

They are chatting about the movie "Limitless" w/ Bradley Cooper.

aaaand "Action!"

Henry: That movie was really somethin'. He got so smart!
Debbie: I know, it was a very good movie.
Henry: You know, it's really somethin' how he uses 100% of his brain like that... you think that it's possible?
Debbie: Oh, sure! You don't need a pill for that.
Henry: How would someone do something like that?
Debbie: You need to learn Silver Mind Control.
Henry: Do they sell that at the grocery store?

(I'll hold while you digest that)

..........................

(okay, let's resume)

As if that weren't bad enough, the end of their conversation went like this:

Henry: Where's your puppy? You haven't brought him in a while...
Debbie: Oh, he's so vocal!
Henry: Vocal?
Debbie: He's too loud... I think he's a human being, reincarnated... he has been so vocal lately, I just know he's trying to tell me something, but I don't speak his language yet.

Unbelievable. Doesn't get much better than that.