In other news . . . I'm going to start putting all my picture "slideshows" on a photo service. You can order prints from the site and even get pictures printed on mousepads, coffee mugs or a credit card!
I don't know if you all think this is a cool move or not, but it sure does let me be lazier--if that's possible!
Click here to see pictures from the night of Tonya's party at P.F. Chang's.
Today was Raw's birthday. Now she's just as old as I am! Haha!
This picture was taken when she and I were roommates one semester at good ol' McCollum. Ahh . . . the good ol' days in 416!
Raw didn't want to be my friend at first. I think she sensed the loud obnoxious in me and was scared of it.
Soon she figured out that there was a mother hen to me, too. And mother hen I did. I even ordered her steamed rice for her!
It's kind of strange how quickly you get close to people when you live in a dorm. I met people and a week later, I just knew I couldn't live without them. Of course, if you asked me their last names, I probably wouldn't have known. That's another funny thing about living in a dorm.
Raw was one of those people I got close to really quickly. And she's one of the few I still believe I couldn't live without.
Raw has the same odd humor I do and will laugh forever at nothing with me. Her smile--her real genuine smile--will seriously brighten your day.
Raw was the first friend I found away from home with whom I could just be quiet. Not that I don't still prattle on around her, but it felt okay to not talk or entertain. Quiet is comfortable with her.
I like all the music Raw likes. I'm sure she can't say the same, since my taste ranges way past what she can tolerate (eg Gwen Stefani).
We were even going to concerts together before we met. I went to a Tool concert in Wichita when I was a senior in high school. It turns out Raw was at that same show.
We've gone to several shows since then, including a Slipknot concert a few years ago. We weren't there to see Slipknot, since we had already seen them a couple of times. We had showed up to see the opening act, Kittie.
Before those of you who know Kittie start laughing at us, let me just say that at the time, Kittie was relatively cool. They were teenage girls and they seemed to be enjoying what they were doing. It was before they started trying to scare everyone and we were incredibly jealous of the life they were living.
When you get to a concert like that early, it's easier to get to the front and as vetrans of the scene, we were pretty good at that task. We decided to make our way up to the front, but there was a "mosh pit" in front of us.
There was no avoiding it. In order to get to the front, we would have to make our way through. Raw went first. I wished her luck and she stepped into the fence the circle of onlookers had made.
And it was like Moses parting the Red Sea. She walked through like she was walking a lonesome hallway. She wasn't touched by one person.
So I'm thinking "Wow! What a nice group of moshers! They're actually trying to avoid anyone just passing through!"
I jump into the pit, smiling and eager to get to the front when WHAM!--a flying body slams into me and totally throws me off course.
I'm just recovering when SPLAT!--a sweaty boy with no shirt smashes into my face.
This is generally the way my trip through the pit went. And when I neared the place where Raw stood YANK!--some crazy girl was trying to pull me back into the pit.
Needless to say, I was tired and a little sore when I finally reached Raw's side. I was sore and really didn't have much to say after my initial "What was that about???"
And since it was Raw, my silence was comfortable.
Have a happy 26th year!
Things are just moving too quickly lately. Important dates and holidays have been creeping up on me. So on Monday, when a customer told me to have a nice holiday, I was totally confused for a moment.
Since I didn't do any kind of "fasting" for Lent this year, I wasn't counting down the days until Easter.
With the speed of my year, Ash Wednesday flew by without me noticing. By the time I realized what was happening, I was already in the middle of Lent.
Although I knew it was Easter today, there was no decorating and hunting of eggs from the Easter Bunny. Not for me, anyway.
Me and E-Bun were never all that tight. Sure, he stopped by and hid eggs for me when I was a kid. He always left me a basket full of candy, too. But we never chilled out and took pictures of us together.
Not until I got old, anyway, and knew the creepy giant bunny wasn't the real Easter Bunny. It was creepier knowing who was inside the giant bunny suit. Creepier still is knowing it's your uncle in the suit.
Since BJ is on the City Council, he's had to do some crazy things for the community, including wearing the bunny suit a couple of years for the annual candy hunt. Sure, you think it's funny until the Easter Bunny pats a girl on the head then turns to you and whispers "I'm sweating like a dog!"
He's lucky he didn't traumatize any poor little children. One year, he leaned down to get something off the ground and his "head" fell off his shoulders.
There were no such traumatics this Easter. Nor did I get any colored eggs. Instead, I had Doll's deviled eggs. In fact, we got in trouble for eating them before dinner.
Instead of an Easter Egg Hunt, Bret and I sat around watching Family Guy all afternoon.
I didn't even get a bunny cake! There's nothing better than tearing into a cake that looks like a bunny! Mmmmm . . . coconut fur . . .
And I wonder why the Easter Bunny doesn't want to hang out with me!
Happy birthday, little brother!
Today, you are 22. What a boring birthday, eh?
Seems hard to believe it's been twenty-two years ago that I was wishing my heart out for twins-one boy and one girl! It was going to be awesome! But my mom was lazy and only gave me one sibling. I was robbed, I tell you!
Now my little brother is actually pretty big. And old!
It seems like everyone is growing up too fast, these days. Tonight, I had my first car ride driven by Mitch.
Wow.
It's like riding a roller coaster without any hills or safety-lock wheels.
Okay, I have to admit that most of the ride wasn't too bad. There were just a few moments . . . .
I used to drive Marcus around town and would often let him scoot over and steer. I missed the beginning of his actual driving days, though, since I was in Lawrence.
I was lucky enough to be home one day when a lot of the family was around. I can't remember why everyone was around, but Marcus went out to move the car and several of us, including BJ and my dad, went outisde.
My brother performed a feat he could have never done had he been trying. He backed the car out really fast and turned a perfect half-circle and started going up--backwards, mind you--into the neighbors' driveway!
Instead of freaking out or rushing to make sure he's okay, my family starts rolling on the ground laughing. I really have no idea what he thought he was doing or how he managed to it. Several years later, I can still see it in my head and it still cracks me up.
Today is my Uncle BJ's birthday. I asked him what he was getting for his birthday and he replied "Probably bills!" He's always so optimistic.
When we were little girls, BJ would freak my cousin Jill and I out as often as he could. He has the ability to flip his eyelids inside out with a blink. We were secretly amazed by this feat and would pull the "Oh please never do that thing you can do with your eyes!" trick.
Of course he would do that thing with his eyes and we would squeal with disgust and shout "Gag me with a spoon!" Sometimes, we were appalled enough to declare the more torturous "Gag me with a wooden spoon!"
As we got older, Jill and I spent less time with the family and more time in the basement. Sometimes, we would be down there making soap operas with Hot Wheels. Now and then, we would be hurling pool balls at Marcus. Usually, we were just having girly chats.
BJ is a man of many toys and had bought a voice recorder with the tiny cassettes. It was cool and high-tech at the time. Lots of businessmen were using them for "Memo to Self" reasons. BJ's reasons were more demented.
At one family gathering, BJ snuck down to the basement before Jill and I claimed it as private to sneak the recorder underneath the couch. Little did our innocent minds know that our entire conversation about boys and friends was being taped!
When BJ informed us of his trickery, waving the recorder in front of us, we tried desperately to snatch it from his hands. We were mortified and of course it was the end of the world for someone to intrude upon our pre-adolescent privacy!
Lucky for us, the tape came out a garbled mess. *Phew!*
Yesterday was Tonya's first day at her new school. I called her see how things went. She sounds really happy and really excited and in some not-so-secret place in my head, I'm disappointed. I was still half-hoping she would decide to come back.
Our first day without Tonya was relatively boring. Other than the tornadoes and scattered thunderstorms in Kansas. It was sad to not have to worry about whether she left her stuff out or not at the end of the night, but I think otherwise, it hasn't really hit us that she's not coming back.
Not that we should be on the ground miserable and bawling for lack of Tonya. We'll be seeing her quite often. The place really won't be the same without her just-a-little-off-beat singing and dancing. It's weird to listen to the radio and not hear her say "I love this song!" about every single tune. I'll miss laughing at the slimiest stinkiest guys who will ask for her number. The best times were when the same slimy guys would ask her if she was a lesbian because she refused their advances.
I just might even miss the way she threw paper clips at me or the way she punched the hell out of my arms. (Though she'll be happy to note I bruised the crap out of my arm myself today when I rammed it into the lock on the door.)
I am glad that she's happy with her new adventure and wish her the best of luck. But all that good will may fade if the new girl is no good. She starts on Thursday. Better cross your fingers, Tonya!
ps---I put up a few of the pictures I took over the weekend here.
So I've been really busy and I'm sorry I haven't put anything up here. Those of you looking for pictures from the weekend, be patient. They're coming.
What have I been busy with, you ask? Well . . . stuff. Stuff like being five seconds from death.
Wednesday, Cassie and I went shopping together. I left my car at work and we headed west in her car. We had a jolly old time and bought ourselves green shirts to wear on St. Patrick's Day.
We headed back to my car on I-235 and had just passed the Meridian exit when I saw some strange lights that shouldn't be where they were flying across the road.
"Did someone just wreck up there?" I asked.
"Where? I don't--" Cassie started to reply before she had to slam on her brakes to avoid hitting the van in front of us. We pulled over and on the other side of the road, leaning against the guardrail was what looked to me like half a car.
My first instinct was to jump out and help, but I was afraid I'd get there and not be able to do anything and feel more helpless. Plus, crossing the Interstate when people, including semis with two trailers, are still barrelling past the wreck, as if it's some sort of nuisance isn't really all that safe.
It was a scary situation. Scary because if we had left a few seconds earlier, we probably would've been rolled over. Scary because the cops had flashlights in the ditch looking for something. Scary because there are people out there that can't be bothered with having to stop or turn around just because someone is dying on the side of the road.
Some hope for humanity could be seen in the several people who rushed to the scene, mobile phones already pressed to their ears. And in the man in the red truck who, even though he had a small child with him, pulled his truck into the lane to block incoming traffic and morbidly curious viewers.
The rest of the week was busy, with events of which I promise to post pictures. Instead of just putting them up the usual way, I tried making these cute slideshows with music. I spent way too much time on them and they're too big and will be problematic. So it was basically time wasted.
On a much happier note, I just found out Steve Erickson, author of my favorite book The Sea Came in at Midnight released a new book last month. I've been waiting six years for a new book and am terribly ecstatic. He writes some pretty confusing, apocalyptic stuff, but for some reason his writing is just beautiful to me. I'm rereading The Sea in preparation.
ps---If you'd like to try to watch one of the slideshows I worked on this weekend, you can click here.
Wait . . . Just who is the boss around here?
How is it we think we're the boss of animals when we're busy taking their crap--literally? Dog owners follow their pets around with plastic baggies and contraptions like a poop scooper. Cat owners don't have to follow the felines around, but we do have to scoop or bag up loads of littler and poo.
I know it's totally gross but it's totally on my mind today. Mostly because I just made a major purchase at SuperTarget today.
When Chris and Jacque gave me Cijay, they also supplied me with all kinds of schwag. Treats, toys, food . . . Cijay came stocked. But the greatest item was the covered litter box. Unfortunately, you can only keep a litter box so clean and there's only so many times you can bleach the thing. Eventually the stink is just going to seep into litterbox at a cellular level.
So I've been scoping out new boxes. I found one at SuperTarget tonight called the The Rollaway Self-Cleaning Litterbox by OmegaPaw. The thing looks kinda complicated, but on clearance, it was only two bucks more than a covered litterbox. It's really quite ridiculous the amount of money I spend on this dumb cat!
I figured I'd end up just using the box as I would use any ordinary box and scoop stuff out with my trusty scoopers. But I looked it up on Amazon and the customers seem to think it works well. The customers have given it five full stars! That's pretty good.
On the box, there's a picture of the Omega Paw development team. It made me laugh really hard. First, because it looks so posed and unreal; second, because I couldn't decide in what decade they took the picture; third, because they have a development team for cleaning up poop???
How would you like to have that job when you go to cocktail parties?
"Nice to meet you, Chester! What line of work are you in?"
"Poop."
Fourteen years ago, I was "going out with" a boy. We talked every night for long periods of time, which I'm sure annoyed my parents. I guess the bright side of that is since we didn't have call waiting, there weren't any phone calls for my dad to go to the store.
On March 13, 1991, my "boyfriend" called and it was probably the shortest phone call we ever had together. I had to tell him that there just wasn't time for us to talk because we were busy telling everyone else that there was an addition to our crazy family. On this particular day, Bret was born.
Fourteen years later, I'm still cutting phone calls short to celebrate Bret's birth. Bret, my roly-poly snuggaly-boo turned elbows-and-knees attitude-dude.
I'm not always the huggiest gal on the planet, but when I want one, I've always been able to count on Bret. Whenever I needed a hug, I could just holler "Nobody loves me!" and Bret would pause his game or stop what he was doing. He would come running from wherever he was in the house to pounce on me and wrap his arms around my neck to assure me that my statement wasn't true. Bret's hug was proof that even if nobody else did, he loved me.
Are you serious?? Can it be that NO ONE I work with knows Steely Dan?
My brain has a way of bringing up a song whenever someone says something. If someone says "I need sugar," my brain starts singing The kombucha mushroom people . . .
"I'm sorry, I'm off in my own zone" All my people in the crowd, let me see you dance . . .
"I don't know why the computer just blew up!!!" Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky . . .
It's quite indicative of both my widespread taste in music as well as my knack for filling my head with lyrics.
So when Tonya told someone she was tired of doing their dirty work, the song "Dirty Work" by Steely Dan popped into my head. I was humming the tune, singing the tune and nobobdy knew the song!
Even Cassie, who sings more (and better) than I do, didn't know the song. What's worse, she tells me "It must have been before my time!" as if I'm some sort of ancient creature!!! Argh! Well, 1972 is before my time, too! So there!
She does know the song "Please Don't Go" by KWS, which is took much more talent to come up with.
C'mon people! You should all know Steely Dan! He's a good guy!
You're 26, now Jackson! I hope you had a happy birthday and enjoyed your karaoke!
Today was quite a day at the old workplace. Christine had someone crying before 9:30!
Sometime before noon, Lisa came back and picked up the phone. I found this unusual since she has a phone at her desk. My spidey sense was peaked and I heard her conversation go something like this:
"Hi Mrs. Missus. Did you write a check to Ms. Miz? No? You've never heard of Ms. Miz? Okay. Yes we will handle it."
Goodbye, Papa, please pray for me,
I was the black sheep of the family.
You tried to teach me right from wrong.
Too much wine and too much song,
wonder how I get along.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the stars we could reach
were just starfish on the beach
I swear the soundtrack to my life amazes me.
I had my this post all thought up. Most of the words were planned out in my head. The post was going to be the best post you've ever read on any website anywhere! It was going to be so clever and downright hilarious, that you would be blown away!
At work, Christine is my buddy, my pal, my rock.
From my first day, she has seemed to understand (well as much as any human can) how my brain ticks. She knows how I vent my frustrations and lets me be excited about little things without making me feel too nerdy.
Chris handles each customer with the same professional friendliness, even if they're being grumpy toward her. The best parts of the day, though, are when she breaks out of her "professional" tone. Like today when someone asked her how she was doing and her response was "Well, right now I'm screwing up my computer!" which was such a big step from the normal responses of "I'm great, thanks!" that both the customer and I had a hearty laugh.
Or like the day I had a heartier laugh when Helen drove off without a receipt and Chris pounded on the window and screamed "HEEEELLLLLEEEENNNN!!!"
I know these are probably all things that are only funny "if you had been there" but that's how most of my stories are, anyway. And if you want me to demonstrate them, I will!
Stories like the other day, when I grabbed at the plant in Chris's window and she snapped "Don't touch my bush!!!"
I'm never sure how to treat or talk to them. Kids are smart, you know. People think they're innocent and don't know much about the ways of the world, but people are WRONG! I remember what it's like to be a kid and know how to manipulate people! Those goobers know everything!
So I want to talk to them like they're equals, but then they don't want to hang out with me because they know I know their game.
Babies are especially scary! They're so tiny and delicate! Do you know how easily you can hurt them without even realizing it? I do! I've read stuff!
Maybe I just didn't grow up around enough babies. I'd best be getting used to them, though. All my friends are going out and getting their own bambinos.
Les and Staci were probably the first of my friends to contribute to the population. They live in Lawrence and since I rarely get up there, I didn't get to see Carter until he'd been around for a few months. He was a little turd and totally cute.
It didn't take long for Staci to ask if I wanted to hold him. I was stiff at first, but you know how you start gaining confidence as you hold a kid. "Oh yeah I got this stuff down! I am the master!" So you shift their position and before you know it, the kid's got his head on your shoulder. "I'm a pro!" you think to yourself. And you think that maybe this tiny little baby just might like you!
This tiny baby looks up at you. And you look down at him. He opens his tiny little mouth and you smile and then
BARF GUSHES OUT ALL OVER YOU!!!
Yeah, that was Carter's way of welcoming me to his home. Thanks, buddy! What's worse is that the next day, we went for a quick visit and he immediately threw up on me again! I'm not sure if that means he liked me or not . . .
Last year, Carter got himself a little brother. Again, it was a few months before I met River. He's just as cute as his brother was. (You gotta hand it to Les and Staci . . . they make some cute kiddos!)
It came time for me to hold River, and everyone starts laughing and remembering how much Carter liked me. I was hoping they'd be quiet. I didn't want them to give River any ideas.
Not three minutes went by before that tiny mouth opened (I swear he smiled, too!) and I knew exactly what was coming! Six gallons! I promise it had to be six gallons of baby barf that poured out of his mouth and all down my arm!!!
I know that Carter had a little discussion with baby brother before I came over! "Hey River! There's this chick coming over and it'd be totally awesome if you puked all over her as soon as you can! She likes it! Trust me!"
I told you they know what they're doing!
