adventures in awkward

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.)


February 2016:

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:

“Hi!

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.

-Blair”

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.

adventures in awkward

Random-As-Shit Thursday Thoughts

1. I have a serious dislike for travel bloggers. They remind me of the people on Facebook who are constantly posting pictures of the things they do in their lives that make them seem so much more interesting and better than the ordinary schmoes like myself. “Here’s a photo of this quaint little cafe along the Rue de la Snooty in Paris. Everything is perfect here – even the way the sunlight reflects off my latte makes my tits look perkier!” It drives me insane. Especially the young ones. How in the world can young 20-year-olds afford to travel the world on a consistent basis and blog about it? HOW? Unless you’re one of ten people at that age that actually gets paid to do it. It makes no sense to me. Shouldn’t you people be working? Or in school? Or, you know, busy being poor? My 20’s sucked compared to them. (Also, I’m willing to admit this is 98% fueled by jealousy. I wish I had the means to constantly travel around further than my grocery store on a daily basis. I also love looking/reading about other countries. So, I really hate a love-hate-relationship with travel bloggers more than just a hate one..)


2. We are basically already in flip-flop weather here in North Carolina, so I’ve been trying to find home remedies to take care of my dry, crusty feet. They really are disgusting. I haven’t worn flip flops in at least two years because I’m afraid I’m going to scar a random child who catches a glimpse of them. This year we have beach trips planned so I figured I’d start now in getting these bad boys descaled. What is one of the cheapest/easiest recommendations I found? Castor oil. So, off to RiteAid I went.

Me: Hi, I’m looking for castor oil. You know, that stuff that pregnant women drink to induce labor? I read that it’s good for your skin, too, and I want to give it a whirl.

RiteAid Lady: Oh, sure! It’s over by the laxatives.

Me: Laxatives?

Lady: Yes, it’s commonly used to help with blockages.

Me: Women don’t poop out of their vaginas, though. I mean, I’ve only been alive for 30 years, but I’m pretty sure that’s right.

Lady: … No. No they don’t. There are definitely two holes down there.

Me: Three, actually. They don’t pee out of their vaginas, either. I don’t think you’re 30 yet, but some day you’ll know.

Lady: This is getting weird.

Poor woman didn’t know what she was getting into when she greeted me at the door. 


3. I was recently interviewed by a fellow blogger here on WordPress. If you want to take a gander, go visit it here 

Also, here’s the Random-Ass-Poll for this week! Remember, it’s anonymous!

[Total_Soft_Poll id=”6″]

adventures in awkward

it’s a bit nippy in here

After following my husband around the house and doing my best impression of Count Chocula singing ‘Do You Want To Build A Snowman?’ for thirty minutes the other day, I was thoroughly disappointed when I woke up and there was just a layer of ice on the ground. Where was my six-to-eight inches of snow, Weather Channel? Where?! Has anyone ever heard of job where it’s perfectly acceptable to be wrong 75% of the time? It’s maddening. Screw you, Al Roker.  S c r e w    y o u. Luckily, it’s not the first time in life I’ve been lied to about 6-8 inches, so I got over it pretty fast.

So, my good friend Winter has finally arrived here in North Carolina. I invited him with open arms and when he came he quickly laid his blanket of white all over everything. I was happy. For a little while. Until I saw that it wasn’t enough to build a snowman or have a snowball fight in. I mean, I guess we could chuck ice at each other. It would probably cause some gaping wounds but it would be fun. Right? Fun.  (Maybe I could invite the neighbor boy I hate to join us.)  Then, when I was laying in bed this morning, I realized it was cold as hell in my house. Of course, on the coldest day of the year, and probably the one time we are going to get ice/snow this entire season, our heater has to stop working. Why, God?? WHY? Life is cruel.

I’m spending this cold day cozying up with my favorite Christmas presents from this year and last:

(Tora-kitten who I got as a gift last year. She isn’t a kitten anymore, but her name has stuck.)

(Fuzzy sheep socks that a fellow blogger mailed me for Christmas this year. How cool is that? Thanks chosenperspectives !)

Now, onto more important issues, like – where the hell can I find a box of Count Chocula? And I wonder if any local weather stations are hiring, I’m sure I’m qualified enough to predict the weather.

rambles

I have a lot of random thoughts that I want to write about, but I can never actually form them into a legitimate blog post. I mean, I probably could, but I doubt anyone would want to read an entire post about the piece of chicken that I ate that I swear was in the shape of a cow. Yes, a cow. Unless you’re into reading that kind of stuff.  Chicken in the shape of beef. Don’t say you’re not impressed.  So, I figured it made more sense to combine my strange thoughts into one post. Here we go, friends…

Dessert – Last night Alex and I were having an important conversation about my extreme craving for ice cream while laying on the couch. When I yawned, one of my cats took it upon herself to sneeze in my mouth. I’m sorry to announce this, but… I might have cat-scratch-fever. Or, at the very least – Ebola. This wasn’t exactly the type of dessert I had in mind, but thanks, Pix.  You’re really helping end the stereotype that cats are assholes.

catsareassholes

Therapists – Speaking of Ebola, there’s been a recent spike in my hypochondria.  My mind has escalated the common cold into the flu, which means there’s a 98% chance I’m going to die from related complications. A pulled muscle in my hip has turned into hip dysplasia and a 99% chance I’m going to need a hip replacement at the age of 29. I thought it would be a good idea to check in with my therapist to talk about it, and she gave me some pretty solid advice I wanted to share. “Blair… just calm down.” JUST CALM DOWN, GUYS. Hey, all people suffering with depression – just be happy, okay? All anxiety sufferers – don’t worry about it! Everything is good here. People with eating disorders – it’s just a cheeseburger, eat up! (You all owe me $100 for this really solid advice. This is what my therapist charges, and clearly … she’s a freakin’ genius.)

Spiders – I’m pretty sure spiders are messengers from hell. These tiny bastards are invading North Carolina and my house is under siege. We have had our home sprayed by an exterminator, yet twice this month a wolf spider has spindled down from the ceiling right in front of my face. TWICE. One time the spider was the size of a quarter. What fresh hell is this?  How many of these things do I have to pop like a blueberry (while screaming, mind you) before the message is clearly sent? Stay away, evil bastards! There’s no room for you here.

spiderslippers

Anyone know where I can get a pair of these?

May has been a great month so far. How’s yours going?

adventures in awkward

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.

morans

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.

rambles

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.

dennis_the_menace_asshole

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: 1 Neighbor 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?)

rambles

I love food. Not in a ‘oh, this salmon was grilled to perfection’ type of way, more like – ‘I’m going to smother a pan of brownies in melted peanut butter and whip cream and stuff half of it down my gob in one sitting’ type of way. Okay, that might be a bit extreme… but you get the picture. When I heard my favorite grocery store from New York was looking for a place to set roots here in North Carolina, my eyes got a little misty. Then I heard that location might be within 15 miles of my house which made me get mistier in other places. (What can I say? I’m easy to please.) I can’t help but daydream about it coming this way. Mmm Wegmans, you sexy bitch.

eat-it-bitch-asshole-cat-meme

Seriously, is this what my life is now? Getting excited over a 50% chance that a store might open? It used to take a milestone like, you know, getting married or killing a King-Size Reese’s Cup pack without anyone judging me . What’s happening here? Am I getting old? Boring? Predictable?  Hold me.

On another note: Panthers play today. Go out and do your good-luck dance. Eat your game-ritual Cheetos. Put on your lucky boxers. They need to win. If you don’t like the Panthers – eat a dick. (I don’t really mean that. Unless you are into that sort of thing.) 

rambles

When it’s thundering, people say ‘God is bowling.’ When it’s rainipigeonpoopng – ‘God is crying.’ So, what’s it called when it’s snowing or sleeting and all this white shit is getting blanketed all over us? Is it dandruff? Jizz? Is this how Mary got pregnant? What the hell is going on up there? A girl deserves to know if there’s a possibility she’s shuffling and wading through multiple inches of jizz.

As someone who grew up in upstate New York, then lived in northern Utah near the mountains of Park City (arguably some of the best skiing in the country,) it’s always interesting to see North Carolina’s response to winter threats. Truthfully, it scares me. Not the weather – the people of NC.  I’ve never seen weather turn a bunch of schmucks into unruly dicks so quick before. I went into the store for five minutes last night and everyone was in a panic. They were sweating, brash, and looked like they were suffering from some severe constipation. Ex-lax aisle 3. I mean, seriously… what the hell is going to happen when there’s something crazy like a zombie apocalypse?  A war on our soil? Get your shit together, NC. 

raleigh2014

Let’s not have another repeat from 2 years ago. Okay, Raleigh? 

In all seriousness – I hope y’all stay safe during this storm. I know some places have the potential for blizzard conditions. Stay home. Light a fire. Put on your adult-size onesie. Eat a bunch of chips. Get out your board games. That’s what I’m going to be doing. I wish there were winter storms every day. 

*As a disclaimer – I grew up in a very Catholic family. My mom taught CCD from our house, and my dad grew up as an alter boy who went to seminary school for a period of time. I don’t need a lesson in theology 🙂 It’s just humor. (No e-mails about how I’m going to hell, okay?)  And – I love NC, too. No hate.

rambles

It’s November. The month of attaining odd goals. Not only is my husband going for the hobo-chic look by not shaving his beard, it also seems like everyone is crapping-their-pants-excited over the start of NaNoWriMo. I don’t plan on being the next bearded lady or starting a novel. So, here I am — just existing. Plopped on the couch with my cat in over-sized sweats, staring at the TV and wondering how long it’s going to take for my candy-induced bloat to go away. What a life.

Truthfully, I love November now that I live in North Carolina. But, in a November snowstorm in New York five years ago, I totaled my car in a very scary accident. Please make sure you stay safe this winter, guys… don’t let the roads make you their bitch like they did to me.

And, good luck with your novel writing, beard growing, and candy digesting. Each equally important, you know.

ncnovember2014