When I was young there was a woman who lived across the street from me that I had on good authority to be a witch. She lived in a small one-story house closed in by a tall wooden fence with paint chipping off, and covered in a shade of pine trees. Let’s be real here – she scared the ever-living shit out of me and all of the other kids I knew. Theories flooded the neighborhood, and when you’re an impressionable six-year-old, it’s not a big leap into believing she killed her husband and let her dog eat his corpse in some sort of sadistic ritual. I was convinced. Every time I saw her walking her massive German Shepherd down the street, I clutched my Cabbage Patch Kid, hid, and sent out a few prayers. She frightened me so much I’d start crying if I was alone outside, or if I thought she caught me through a window. It was a truly terrifying time. She was my Boo Radley.
I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids in my cul-de-sac. I’ve posted about him before – making him swim in dog-poop-water, and kicking him in the balls one night when he walked – without knocking – in my front door. To sum it up, he’s a kid that has no respect for anybody and has asshole parents that don’t pay attention to him. I haven’t had much issue with him lately, except for the fact he leaves shit in my yard all the time even after I ask him multiple times to move them. So, I decided to start storing them in my garage for him, you know, so they don’t get ruined. I wouldn’t want his pretty new bike to get rusted or something, right? Okay, I’m a petty thief. I’ll admit it. I noticed him yesterday evening knocking on every person’s door but mine looking for his bike. He would glance over towards our house, but he was too afraid to come ask. I even went outside to get the mail, giving him a chance to talk to me in a neutral area, but he scurried away inside the second I started to emerge.
This kid literally ran away from me and was willing to give up his new bike just so he didn’t have to talk to me. That’s pretty bad. So, I’ve come to the sad realization that I am somebody’s Boo Radley, too. I don’t know if I should take it as an honor, or feel bad about it. Am I that crazy that the townsfolk are scared of me? Should I try to make nice with these kids, or ride it out until Halloween and try to scare them so much it’ll be a night they’ll never forget? What do I do with this great power?
(Don’t worry, this morning I wheeled his bike back to his front yard. I didn’t actually intend on keeping it.)
On another note – today is my 3-year-anniversary for signing up on WordPress. Woo! Granted, I didn’t start actually blogging until months after that.
I’ve never done this before, but instead of being, you know… productive this morning and writing the post I had planned, I ended up spending two hours reading every.single.post I’ve made since I started this blog. That’s almost two years worth. I was going to write about a funny story from my childhood but for the life of me – I couldn’t remember if I’d posted about it before. I’m worried I’m going to start repeating myself and look like a complete idiot. Have you guys gotten to that point yet? My mind has gone to complete crap. Maybe it’s my age or the long term effect of eating too many cheese balls as a kid, but I’m blaming 4/20 even though I haven’t smoked in years. Yep, definitely the weed’s fault.
So, for the first time ever, I’m going to do a ‘Friday Flashback‘ post and share one from over a year ago. It goes along well with the fact that I’ve been feeling a bit down from having a lack of a life/friends lately. (Why is it so hard to make friends as an adult? I never had this issue when I was younger.)
I recently stumbled upon a blogger who was reviewing a local restaurant right down the road from me. It made me pretty excited, so I posted a comment and tried to connect with her. I really had no intention of meeting this person, I just wanted to tell her how much I agreed with her good review and next time she should get the Bacon & Pimento Cheeseburger because it will give her a mouthgasm. (If you don’t know what Pimento cheese is, you’re not living life.)
Well… she never responded to me. I figured I might come across a bit crazy in my writing, so I thought reaching out to her in an email would clear my name and make her feel more at ease:
I commented on your post recently and I’m worried I came across weird and freaked you out. Don’t be scared. I didn’t want to meet up with you or anything like that. I know I come across a little crazy on my blog… but I assure you I’m more of a “I made my 8-year-old niece try a dog treat crazy” rather than a “I’m going to find your house and harvest your organs crazy.” Speaking of your house, the one on your Bio page is so cute. So is your dog. If you want to be friends, I’m just down the road.
Pretty sure I made it worse. You win some, you lose some right?
Lesson of the Day : If you want to make new friends off the internet, don’t mention living down the road from them and harvesting their organs in the same paragraph.
PS – I promise… I’m really not crazy! Well, not serial killer crazy at least.
I’m not sure if it’s allergies. the weather changing, or something a bit more sinister, but lately I’ve had such a bad migraine I wonder if I’m moments away from my brain exploding and decorating the walls of my home. Which I imagine would be quite painful and life-ending, but who knows, I could be the originator of the next great home design trend. Not that I want other people’s brains to end up on their walls – but maybe red paint thrown against the wall like blood spatter will be the next big thing. That’s something to look forward to, right? Being a trendsetter? There’s always a silver lining if you search hard enough.
I’ve been meaning to pick up the frequency of my posts again this past week, but with family over for Easter and Satan plaguing me with the migraine from hell, I’ve been a bit distracted. I actually didn’t put it together until right now, but maybe there’s a connection. I think I’m being bitch-slapped by the devil on the holiest of holidays. I’m convinced.
Anyways… thanks to everyone for entering the giveaway to win a $20 Amazon gift card. It was fun to see all the yummy food everyone was craving, and exceedingly torturous at the same time for someone who eats a very strict diet. I asked for it, though!
The winner, who was drawn at random is…. zongrik ! The food she was craving at the time she commented was mango slices. Mmmm. Very summery and refreshing. I’d definitely go for that.
(zongrik – email me within a week at email@example.com, and I’ll send the gift card your way!)
Do any of you ever read funny Amazon reviews? They seriously kill me.
Why does it seem like the majority of bloggers are much cooler than the people I meet in person? I’ve said this a few times here, but I’m reiterating because it seems strangely true. I’d rather fall ass-first into a dildo factory or have someone crap in my hand at a Broadway show and be forced to give a standing ovation than meet random schmucks in person. So, because I love you guys, and because the weather has been hot and sunny and putting this negative Nancy in a good mood, I wanted to do a small Amazon gift card giveaway this week. I mean, who doesn’t want a free $20 to Amazon? They have just about everything. (And I can just email it out, so you don’t have to worry about me showing up at your doorstep with a meat pie made of roadkill I scraped off my driveway.)
I’m just doing this for fun, so the only thing you need to do in order for a chance to win is answer the question below in the comment section. You can enter up until Tuesday night 04/18 at 11:59pm EST. I’ll post the winner on Wednesday morning. If you have Amazon in whatever country you live in – you are eligible to win.
(Benny D. Sheep and the cat’s butt are not included in the giveaway. If you follow me on Twitter, Benny is the smaller version of the huge sheep I found in Kroger the other day. Isn’t he cute?)
Maybe one day I’ll actually make some sort of money of this blog, and I can start doing big giveaways. That would be fun.
Here’s the random question you need to answer in order to enter: If you could eat anything you wanted right now, what would it be?
I feel overwhelmingly stressed lately. This has far surpassed the slight worry over what I’m going to make for dinner or the best way to organize my prized box of multicolored beanie babies that’s hidden away in a locked, temperature controlled storage room on the other side of town. They are worth so much money, they really do deserve the best treatment. I’m deep into the realm of feeling like I’m trapped on the beach and someone is burying me alive under the weight of a thousand pounds of sand. I’m suffocating. The weird part is – nothing has really changed, so I don’t know why it has come on so suddenly. That’s likely the problem – I’m ready for a change that just hasn’t come yet.
So, today I’ve convinced my husband to finally go see Beauty and the Beast with me. And, you know what… I’m throwing caution to the wind. I’m going for the M&Ms. No, fuck it. I’m getting peanut M&Ms. I’m so tired of having to count/measure every single bite that goes into my damn mouth. Why can’t I just be naturally skinny like my siblings? I really got screwed on the gene pool. Being in a constant state of trying to lose weight and work out has me feeling like I’m tiptoeing into crazy town. Why can’t pizza, cupcakes, and a plate of good southern bbq be healthy and rabbit food be what’s killing us? Why, God, WHY? Why do this to us? The inhumanity. (Okay, I’m done with my hissy-fit. Nothing to see here. Carry on.)
The only thing that’s blatantly spiking my anxiety is my cats, so if you’re a cat lover/owner/trainer/whatever, and you have any advice for a situation I’m in – it would be much appreciated. I don’t want to go deep into it on here, but it has to do with cats not getting along/stalking/litter box aggression. If you could message me on Twitter or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org I’ll love you forever and maybe even send you cookies. Or maybe I’ll just eat a cookie in your honor. That’s the same…right?
Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts
1. Some people listen to music when they are trying to relax. Others go to the bar and down a shameful amount of appletinis while having their self-esteem boosted by a drunk asshole that thinks complimenting a stranger’s ass is the best pathway to a lifelong love. Or a night full of burning STDs. Who knows. I watch cats. Not my own cats, they’re too boring. I’ve been obsessed with a live stream on YouTube called ‘Kitten Academy.’ It’s run by a couple in Illinois who foster pregnant cats and their kittens until they are old enough to be adopted through a rescue they work with. They have a 24/7 live stream in a few rooms of their home dedicated to different mom+kitten families. If you like cats, you need to check it out. I’ve become so addicted I check in on the kittens all day – when I’m pooping, at my computer writing, and sometimes when I feel it’s necessary to pretend I’m listening to my husband when he’s talking about sports. It’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. If you need something to make you smile and calm you down, check it out. It’s much better than getting drunk and losing your self respect on a Friday night.
(Here’s a photo I stole from their Twitter yesterday. Look at those sweet faces.)
2. Last week I got my annual haircut. Yes, I only go once a year. I’m not afraid to admit I let my hair get a little Tarzan-esque once in awhile. Getting a hair cut is probably one of the worst things you have to do when you have social anxiety. You’re stuck in a chair, being nailed with personal questions that are impossible to escape, while a person dances around you with scissors chopping away while they barely pay attention. Even the thought of it makes me nauseous. This year I happen to get a woman who was the most obnoxiously outgoing person I’ve ever met. At one point she brought up bestiality and how horrible it would be to get stretched out by a cow. She is also 100% convinced that giant zombie chickens are going to be what wipes humanity from Earth. Seriously. Genetically modified zombie chickens. She thinks they’ll be so strong they’ll be able to muscle us to the ground and peck us to death. I wish I was making this stuff up, but it all came out of her mouth. And I thought I was the one with word vomit. I’m never getting a haircut again.
(Hellllo Khal Drogo. He kind of looks like Tarzan here… right?)
3. Anyone have any masterful April Fool’s Day pranks they are going to play on someone? I’m running out of time and haven’t come up with a good one yet. I really want to find one that will scare my husband so bad he will pee himself. That would bring me great joy. (Unless he makes me clean it up or something.)
Since I’ve started writing a novel, I feel like my mind is in a constant state of playing everything out. There’s a movie on loop playing in my head. I’m always thinking about what could happen, or what my characters are doing, and I’m pretty sure it’s driving me to the brink of insanity. Which sounds kind of thrilling, but it’s actually pretty terrifying when you can’t concentrate on anything else. It’s starting to seep into my dreams at night, too, and since my novel is a murder mystery/teen sleuth, this isn’t bringing along dreams of playful puppies tumbling down a field of wildflowers and kittens cuddling underneath a Skittles rainbow. My dreams are more in the realm of brutal slayings, the decapitation of pedophiles, and throwing a stabby porcupine at an unsuspecting stranger’s face. Anybody up for some free acupuncture? It’s an intense way to wake up every morning. Which leads me to a question Alex and I discussed at length yesterday:
If the person you love most in this world (spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/sister/best friend/whatever) killed a pedophile instead of reporting it to police, would you flee the country/hide with them or turn them in? The pedophile wasn’t attacking anyone, or doing anything at the time your person found out so it wasn’t self defense, they were just angry and wanted to end him for being a sick fuck. Are you turning them in because you want nothing to do with it? Or do you love them to the point you are willing to give up your life to protect them and live on the run? I’m curious what your answers are, because Alex and I had opposing ones. Dun dun dun…
Also, how do you not become so consumed by what you’re writing about? Is this normal? I’m assuming this is why most creative artists are the depressive type. Pretty soon I’m going to be shaving my head and chanting around a bonfire in my backyard wearing nothing but nipple tassels and a baby diaper. Okay, probably not, but you see where I’m going.
When I was growing up I was sure I’d never marry. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but because I was slightly overweight, thought the Disney channel shows meant for 12-year-olds were cool even in my late teens, and Kimmy Gibbler was, in my eyes, the best fashion icon of the next decade. Why weren’t boys into all of that? I’ll never know. I labeled myself as undesirable. Which was a pretty shitty feeling to have when all the other kids in high school were groping each other at their lockers and talking about bumping uglies during their lunch period. I’m not gonna lie – it’s hard to go through your awkward years feeling like nobody will ever want you like the rest of your peers. I had resigned to the fact that I didn’t deserve love, and I was actually at a point where I was okay with that. I’d be fine alone. I’d hoped. When Alex and I started dating I thought God was fucking with me. I was pretty sure he was just trying to pull off the cruelest prank imaginable to pay me back for all the times I cursed his name or wanted to punch a stranger in the face for no reason.
Have you ever heard that corny line, ‘find someone who makes you want to be a better person/version of yourself?‘ I always thought that line was such bullshit until it happened to me. Alex does this for me. I don’t think the man has ever had a negative/judgmental thought about anyone on the planet. Even when it’s just the two of us together. I never thought I deserved a man who would be thoughtful enough to jump up and do the dishes every night after I cook so I don’t have to. Or scoop the litter boxes for cats that I had to have, even though he’s a dog lover. A man that loves me when I’m losing weight, gaining weight, crying because my hormones are making me even crazier than I truly am, or when I’m dancing and serenading the cats in the most embarrassing way possible. A man that supports me and truly believes I can accomplish my goal of being a successful writer someday. Or someone who would, without repayment or acknowledgment, help a stranger on the street regardless of who or where they were and what he had to do in order to help. (Listing these is making me cry, so I’m going to stop here!)
I don’t know what I did to deserve Alex, but I honestly wake up every morning feeling like the luckiest woman alive. Everyone deserves an Alex. I hope you all find one, because everyone deserves a love like his.
Today is his birthday, which spawned this overly sappy/corny post that I don’t usually do. Happy Birthday, Alex! Thanks for making a socially awkward, undesirable nerd feel so loved.
When I was a teenager my best friend and I used to spend hours sitting at the mall watching people. Usually we would catch the occasional nose picker or someone with a wedgie so deep up their crack we worried about impending paralysis, but normally it was just boring. Not to mention the fact that people didn’t enjoy that we were staring at them and being asshole judgmental teens. Oh well. What else were we supposed to do when we were sitting there enjoying our soft pretzel with melty cheese? Be nice? Psht. (Mmm Auntie Anne’s. Gotta find one of those around here sometime.)
I’ve been thinking about reprising my role of people watching, though, because the past few days I’ve overheard two very strange conversations in public:
When I was walking a paved path at a community park on Tuesday, I heard a woman say, “It took me so long to find a private place to air out my vagina.” What?! I have to know why this was a thing. Did she wet herself? Was she sweaty? Did she let out a sulfuric queef that was lingering? So many questions I need answered.
When I was standing in line at PetSmart yesterday, I heard a young girl say, “My dog accidentally licked my nipple when I was getting into the bath. I hope I don’t get pregnant with puppies. I’m not ready to be a mom.” Ah… the innocence of childhood. I thought this was cute for a little kid to say.
What’s the weirdest thing you’ve overheard before?
Also, Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Hope everyone enjoys being glued to the toilet and plagued with green poop all day tomorrow from all the food dye.
(This picture has zero to do with my post, but… as I was looking for St. Paddy’s/Irish pictures it came up. I couldn’t stop laughing. I didn’t even see her at first! I’m only like 5% Irish, but I suffer from the same pastey white affliction.)
Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts
1. I’ve come to the conclusion the last few days that I’m a terrible person. Not that I’m on the level of pushing bratty little kids down the stairs or rubbing my naked ass all over the neighbor’s cars after a recent trip to the bathroom, but I’m up there. I’ve propelled into the early stages of ‘grumpy old woman’ syndrome even though I’m barely 30. I had a conversation with Alex yesterday about how disappointed he was that he was unable to help his brother move this weekend due to wrist tendinitis. I mean, I figured he must’ve been promised an endless supply of pizza and beer or something… but he wasn’t. He was just looking forward to the act of helping someone who needed it. What? Is this normal? How do I get to be like this? The thought of helping somebody move their crap is on par with walking blindfolded into the middle of oncoming traffic for me. Why am I such a negative Nancy? Do normal people actually just enjoy doing whatever they have to in order to help someone without ever expecting them to return the favor, or is my husband just a saint? I need some Jesus or something.
2. I’ve been hiding this past week because I’ve ventured into uncharted territory and, man… these rocky waves are making me seasick as hell. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hack it. I started writing a book a few days ago. Now, this is something I’ve been putting off for a long time even though there’s been characters and scenes stuck in my head for almost a year. I was waiting for the right time and I think I’m finally ready for their story to be told. The only problem is that I already hate what I’ve written and want to restart. How do I get past the self criticism? Am I ever going to like the shit that I write? How do authors do it? I’m my own worst enemy.
(Is it sad I saw this sticky note on the box an instantly thought, ‘BUT BACON! What about bacon?’ Sorry about the shitty quality.)
3. People are making life insufferable lately. I can’t walk around Barnes and Noble without hearing people talk about anti-Islamic hate groups or go into my grocery store without being chastised about eating meat. A few days ago I spent a solid 30 minutes going through my Twitter feed, turning off some people’s re-tweets because all it is (literally 20 times in a row) is people complaining about Trump. (I love you guys, but you are killing me.) My ENTIRE feed was related to politics – the thing I try my hardest to avoid in life. We get it. Trump is a psychotic, orange, hateful mother fucker who may very well cause a new war. I like to live in a bubble though, when you have extreme anxiety it does wonders. (I know this is going to offend some people I follow on Twitter. It’s not personal – I love your blogs and want to see your tweets. I just turned off re-tweets. Yes, you are allowed to be pissed and angry over Trump. This is just self-preservation.)