When I was eight I befriended the weirdest girl in the neighborhood. You know, the type that all the other girls ignore and whisper about in their bedrooms while they rip their Barbie’s heads off and stuff them down their tops pretending they magically sprout a set of boobs overnight. Having boobs is all the rage according to my young nieces (and all the men in my life, for that matter) … didn’t you know?
I met Shelby one summer in Massachusetts when she was selling lemonade in front of her house. I was pretty shy as a kid but I approached her for a very specific reason – she was wearing a furry purple bunny costume. I knew right away I had to know this girl. Shelby was stunning with red curly hair and green eyes that were reminiscent of the sea glass I liked to collect from the shores of Cape Cod. Over the two years we were friends, I think I only saw her face a couple of times. She loved her bunny costume, and when people asked her about it, her response was always ‘because I’m a bunny… why wouldn’t I dress like one?’ She didn’t care about the incredulous stares from adults in the stores, or the ridicule she got from the little shitheads in school. Shelby was strange. Shelby was different. Shelby was a bunny. Shelby was fucking Shelby. She taught me such a crucial lesson at a young age – to be proud of the things that made me weird and to never hide them. To embrace the different. I think about her often.
(Imagine my horror when I saw Donnie Darko years later.)
Where are the Shelbys of the world now? Why isn’t it okay for someone to be different? Why is it so hard to celebrate people who don’t live the same way we do? Damn, we don’t even have to celebrate them… but we could at least be kind enough to keep our shitty opinions to ourselves. I don’t care if you have pink hair, a face tattoo, you accidentally got pregnant at 15, or you’re attracted to someone of the same gender. It has zero effect on my life. Are you a good person? That’s really the only thing that people should care about. Apparently all of America needs to have a meeting with an eight-year-old in a bunny costume. Where the hell is Shelby when you need her? Will the real Slim Shelby please stand up? We need you to save mankind.
I haven’t been around here for awhile. I hope everyone’s holiday season has kicked off in a positive/happy direction. I know some people are having a shitty month (especially because of the election) but I hope everything else is good with y’all. Next week we will all be able to stuff our feelings down with food. Bring on the holiday cheesecakes!
I live in state that’s very much despised by the rest of the country right now. North Carolina.Go on, get your gasps out. Grip your children close and shield their eyes. You don’t want to catch these cooties. Truthfully, I haven’t been paying much attention to the uproar over the ‘bathroom law’ that’s been plastered on the news but it slapped me in the face this afternoon when I least expected it.
If you’ve been around here for awhile, I’ve made it pretty clear I have an undying love for Target and the ability to get an overpriced latte and traipse around the aisles for hours looking at crap NOBODY needs. (No, not even you. Step away from the discounted pair of Easter bunny ears.) I went there this afternoon to try to find a Mother’s Day gift, but I ran into an angry bunch of crazies waiting for unsuspecting customers at the store’s entrance.
Crazy Woman:You shouldn’t shop in Target… they aren’t interested in keeping women and children safe.
Me: Say what now?
Crazy:The company supports transgender people using whatever bathroom they want! Can you believe that? It’s an outrage! Men will be allowed into the women’s bathroom!
Me: One time I used the men’s bathroom because I couldn’t hold it. It was disgusting in there. Like someone threw up on top of a dead raccoon and let it fester in the hot sun for a week while crows pecked its eyes out. I gotta tell you… I died a little inside. How do men deal with it? I’ll never know….
Crazy:That’s totally different, though. It’s not the same as a man in a woman’s bathroom. How can you not see that? Are you stupid? This is important and you’re acting like it’s a joke. You’re an embarrassment to America and the foundation it was built on.
Me:Oh, yeah…. I’m the embarrassment to America. Right.
WHAT is going on in this country? How is calling a stranger stupid acceptable? How is saying it’s okay for women to do something but not men? What is it in my personality that attracts crazy people? Since my therapist prescribes me something to keep my own crazy away, can she prescribe me something to keep other crazy people away too?
It’s getting harder and harder to leave the house with anxiety nowadays.
Lately I’ve decided life is too hard and I’ve been finding it helpful to practice my favorite yoga position – face down on the couch in a pile of blankets. Ever get like that? I mean, seriously… unless someone is dying, don’t bother me. My mind is on vacation and the most important thing on my agenda is to see how many mini marshmallows I can fit in my mouth. (16. The answer is 16.) Thank God my husband hasn’t run away screaming bloody murder from disgust over my aversion to showers the past few days. The cats have taken to avoiding me. Assholes.
When I was finally able to drag my sorry ass out of the house, Alex and I decided to do something fun to lift the mood: bad food and arcade games. It works, guys. 4 out of 5 doctors in the US recommended.
Yes, that’s fried onion strings. On top of boneless buffalo wings. On top of a a pile of melted blue cheese. On top of a burger. I loveAmerica.
Then Alex won me a stuffed polar bear. He is the King Of The Claw Machine.
Yes, I’m 29 and still get excited over my husband winning me a stuffed animal. I’m not embarrassed.
I hope y’all had a great Easter filled with an overabundance of chocolate and jelly beans. Now that I’m functioning like a normal person again, I will be spending time catching up on the blogs I’ve missed.
I live on a cul-de-sac in one of the top 5 safest towns in America. Seriously. People are happy here with their pedigree dogs and their perfect families. Everybody waves. Everybody’s polite. It’s goddamn sickening, guys, and completely unnatural. But everyone deals with neighbors that need to be slapped upside the head once in awhile. Even here in Perfectville, USA.
I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids. Now, you don’t need much introduction to this kid, except that he lives across the cul-de-sac and he specializes in being strange and an asshole. Good times. I know that sounds harsh, but really…. all kids are strange as hell. Yes, even yours. This kid will do whatever the hell he wants and has parents who are never home to correct the behavior. He climbs over our fence and tramples on our garden. He’s opened and walked right into our front door. He’s even taken our mail from the box before. It’s insanity. I, and many other neighbors, have talked to him and his parents multiple times but nothing ever comes of it.Awhile ago I spoke to him again about staying out of our yard, especially if the gate is locked. But… he didn’t listen. Again.
So I came up with a master plan to get him back. Which required me asking one of my other neighbors if I could have his dog’s poop. (Yes, it was awkward. Yes, he probably thought I was crazy and questioned whether this town is safe anymore.) I lined up the poop by the fence where the kid lands and hosed it down with water. You know… to soften it up nicely for impact. So thoughtful of me, right? Then… I sat there excitedly eating chips and waited all day staring out my window. It was worth it. Just to see the look on the kids face when he fell into a puddle of murky shit water with bugs floating all around. He hasn’t jumped our fence in months.
Blair: 1Neighbor Boy: 0
Sometimes you’ve gotta fight fire with fire.
(Disclaimer – No, this kid doesn’t have any disabilities besides being a jerk, so don’t worry. And, yes, I could have been an adult and not stooped to his level, but where the hell is the fun in that?)
Sometimes I feel like a bad American. Now, I can definitely get down with the love of hamburgers and pizza. I’m also all about double-fisting cans of really shitty beer until I can’t remember my name and I’m running down the street wearing my bra as a headband. (I haven’t done that before. Nope, never. Really.) I just can’t handle the politics. It makes me stabby. When someone tries to talk to me about them I stare at them wide-eyed and clueless. I’m a lost cause.
People like to give me a lot of shit because I don’t vote. (Yes, you can too if you want. But I’m just going to shake my head slowly and pretend you’re naked and being hugged by a human-size porcupine.) Obviously I care about the issues at hand and a lot of them are important to me, I think I just get too overwhelmed by the arguing. I can’t handle the confrontation. The idiocy. The insanity. I get too emotionally invested by things so I’m better off avoiding them like the plague.
Ready for some irony? My college major was Political Science. (Weird, right?)
(Edited to Add this paragraph) I just can’t handle the way politics turn people into assholes. Recently when Scalia passed away, I read numerous posts on Facebook and here (WP) about celebrations. How it was a great thing. There were jokes over his death, cheers, and a lot of fucked up stuff about how happy people were. Regardless of the guy’s politics – he was still a person. With a family. Who died. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with people? You’re disgusting.
I’m curious where you stand, so you better vote down below. I already told you I was feeling stabby. So… you better listen! (Please and thank you 🙂 )
Fun Fact: The average American consumes 4500 calories on Thanksgiving.
There’s nothing quite like stuffing three days worth of food in your face in one sitting, right? Sure, you might be stuck wearing sweatpants for a few days since your pants won’t button over your bloat. Or your digestive system will go into shock and revolt against you. Exciting side effect to look forward to? Explosive diarrhea.
Which leads to a Bonus Fun Fact: Thanksgiving is the busiest day for plumbers.
…. I think it’s a good time to come together and say a prayer for all of the plumbers out there who have to deal with a lot more gravy than what’s served on their plates this week.