Now I Have to Go Find A Smurf and Yell

Let me just start by saying that I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in awhile, but it’s been crazy between birthday parties and my grandma becoming friends with the hospital. I’m not even going to get into that yet, because I know that my millions of adoring fans have really missed my witty writing and funny stories. And by millions, I mean two. And by two, I mean Aunt Bev and my mom. So if we’re counting people I’m not related to, technically or not technically, then we’re talking zero.

I would like to say that this blog is going to contain a bunch of awesome stories, because trust me, I have them. I have one about a bonfire at Becky’s, and being pretty sure I haven’t consecutively laughed that hard in my life. Then there’s one about my dog’s birthday party, and Aunt Bev and my mom, which, enough said. Plus, those two things go together. To top it off, there’s also a story about my grandma being in the hospital, which, granted, shouldn’t be funny, but you don’t know my grandma. Somehow, we ended up laughing inappropriately and not at her expense, which is pretty normal for us. I also have blogs already written up about some other awesome events that will excite you so much that you’ll jump up and down and then trip, falling flat on your face and having to go to the hospital. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This specific post, however, is about none of them. Oh no, none of it. So basically I got you all hyped up for exactly no reason at all, but not really. This blog contains something even better, even scarier, and much more edgy. That’s right, this blog is about texts in my phone, IMs I sent totally sober (and let’s be honest, I’m always totally sober), and things I put on my Twitter that may or may not need further explanation depending on what the Tweet is about.

Look people, I don’t know how my mind works, but people are always telling me that I need to share the things I say, because they’re funny. So, here. I’m sharing. This is my attempt to mortify strangers or make you laugh. You choose. You’re welcome.

Let’s just start here, since it seems to be the most pressing and important matter of this whole post, which is about nothing important at all. Take that for what it is.

How in the HELL did Patrick Stump get arrested? And other texts regarding this matter.

-- “Patrick? Don’t you mean Brendon? Or Gabe? I always had dibs that Brendon would go downtown before Patrick.”

-- “Oh, I know. I keep laughing, too. I’m waiting for everyone to be like HAHA, JUST KIDDING! But I don’t think they’re going to.”

And yes, of course I said those things. Who else would be that inappropriate? (Btw, sorry Urie. It’s just...he’s Patrick Stump, and you’re you with serious ADHD. Is it such a long shot to think you would end up in jail before the koala?) But seriously, how in the hell did Patrick Stump get arrested? I mean, he’s Patrick Stump. I can't stop repeating these two lines, because puppy dogs and butterflies are scarier than him and misbehave more. It just does not make sense. Can.not.compute.

The next place we can naturally go from there is to the deep, dark sarcophagus of texts from my phone. Please keep in mind, people, that these are all texts I’ve sent other people, unless otherwise noted. My phone is just like a whole Where’s Waldo of insanity. I open it up and start going through my texts, and it’s almost like a short novel of my less than documented and slightly failing sanity. I don’t ever remember sending these texts and I’m always, always sober. I mean, not just when I text, but I’ve never been drunk in my life. Or high. This really is just how my mind works.

-- “Leo is excited about your RSVP.”

The person who this was sent to had no comment. (Becky) Of course, Leo is a dog and she did just RSVP for his birthday party, so I guess that’s kind of self explanatory. I always swore I’d never become one of “those people.” And by “those people” I mean Paris Hilton. Sorry world. I am bored.

-- “I still want to find a Smurf and yell, which will be proceeded by skipping gleefully to hug it like it’s going out of style. I think you should join me.”

This also goes with the following Tweet that I adorned my Twitter page with.

-- “My catch phrase. ‘Now I have to go find a Smurf and yell."

This is soon to be followed be either a text or IM of this nature.

-- “Why was I finding a Smurf and yelling, again?”

Sadly, this is my new catch phrase. Just look at the title of this post if you’re unsure of how true that is. See? Yeah. That’s how I roll. The really sad thing about this, though, is that this stemmed from a conversation about Smurfs. I have no idea how my friend and I started talking about Smurfs, or why I wanted to find a Smurf and yell. I do know that I wanted to find one and yell happy things as I ran towards it to hug it, but I just can’t remember why. I’ll have to ask my friend who was otherwise involved in the conversation. Maybe she knows. If not, we’re shit out of luck on an explanation.

-- “I should totally be a fashion stylist. I’m currently wearing pink dog slippers, pink and green plaid pants, and a blue top with obnoxious colored stars all over it. Don’t tell me that somehow, somewhere my Rainbow Brightness isn’t making some gay man very happy in his pants.”

That text was then followed by this after Becky laughed her ass of electronically.

-- “I figure I can work for women who are tired of straight men, and just looking for a gay bestie. I know how to pull them in. Trust me.”

This is a fact. A well recorded one. Gay men are so my homies. Straight men, meh. Speaking of, kudos to the gay nurse in the hospital where my grandma was, just because he’s awesome and made me laugh when he was being serious. I waited until I walked away from him to laugh, mind you. But I still laughed.

-- “Kellie, don’t look like Britney. You’re too cute. Love, lots of sane people across the nation.”

Becky mentioned that Kellie Pickler looked like Britney Spears with her new haircut. Okay, look people, I don’t watch Idol, but even I’m aware that she was the “dumb” one. However, holy fucking crap she’s cute, so eff you for picking on her! It could be worse. She could be Britney. See where I’m going with this?

-- “Uncomfy TV moment. This girl who works for Kourtney and Khloe Kardashian won’t stop hitting very bluntly on Kourt, and telling her she wants a relationship with her.”

Okay, look, there’s so many embarrassing things about this text, that I’m unsure of where to start. Oh wait, no I'm not. First of all, it’s bad enough I watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians and admit it. But now I’m watching a show with the two less famous sisters and I don’t even know what the show is called. Something about Kourtney and Khloe in Miami. (There was a link to it on the KUWK sight.) I don’t know, but we’ve established that. Then I learned that said lesbian chick doesn’t actually work for them. She just somehow met Kourtney and befriended her, however I’m unsure how. How’s that for a lot of fail? Can someone clear this up for me? I have too much pride to go and look and see how this actually went down. Oh, who am I kidding? No I don’t.

-- “In the Free Credit Report dot com commercials, they did a good job of picking guys who you would believe were huge losers with no credit. Irony.”

Self explanatory, being as they're now laughing the whole way to the bank.

-- “Things I said today in front of people. None of which even flinched when I said it. ‘That’s it! I’m marrying a gay man! We don’t even have to have sex! I’m just marrying him anyway!”

If you’re wondering why no one was shocked by this, it’s because I said it to my mom. Even still, no one else would have even moved a muscle. They’d be more shocked if I said that concerning a straight man, further proving I know how to draw in the gays. I should have my own little clan. It’d be awesome for both them and me.

-- “He does like to be naked and he does like to dance. I guess stripping is natural for him.”

Look people, this came from a Tweet, and although I know posting the Tweet isn’t going to explain anything, I’m doing it anyway. And for future reference, this was a conversation between my friend, Jo and I. This wouldn’t be important, except it is, because she will come up later in this post. Hint, hint.

*Jo’s DM: “I just noticed that on *Insert name here's* Twitter bio, he wrote “private dancer,” and, I mean, am I allowed to hire his services? Does he go international, or does he just do the states? Lol! I laughed my ass off when I saw that.”

*My DM: “Oh God, but he can’t even dance. Unless he can strip. Maybe his girl said he strips so much he’s like a private dancer. I wanna see. Pants off and all. I wanna know how “private dancer” this boy goes, and if he’s holding out on us.”

*Jo’s DM: “Well, if he’s a good stripper, then I still want to hire him. Maybe he’s a private dancer because he dances better in private with no clothes on. He feels like himself when he’s in his birthday suit, therefore, he dances better.”

*My DM: “He does like to be naked, and he does like to dance. I guess it makes sense. Stripping is natural for him.”

So see? It all makes sense now, only not really, and I’m sorry, and again, not really. It also proves that I know wayyyy too much about the people in my life. Wayyyyy too much. I would yell at them and tell them to stop over sharing, but over sharing is really my forte. I’m the queen of it, so that would just turn into a pot meet kettle situation.

-- “Quote of the day: ‘I think he was a frog. I know he was a frog.”

My mom was outside tending to the yard when she saw what she described as a “big black thing.” It was then followed by that quote. It was too good not to text, seriously. I mean, if I hadn’t told you all what that was about, you’d still be laughing and scratching your head simultaneously in an attempt to understand that, right? Right? And tell me this, would that or would that not make an awesome kids song? It would, wouldn't it?

-- “Today I was watching That 70’s Show and I realized I know where all the clothes went when the show went off the air. Brendon has them.”

I could explain this one, but it’s better if you just let your mind wander on it. You don’t even have to know who Brendon is to picture the basic overall imagery of this.

-- “They are. And their son that’s married is ready to have a baby, too, and they were married exactly .2 seconds when he got her pregnant. Condoms anyone?”

Regarding the Duggars. Seriously, people? I could be wrong here, but I’m pretty sure God didn’t intend for you to not use protection and have more kids than most animals on the planet combined. I’m thinking these people and the rest of the world don’t interpret God’s word the same way. As in almost everyone in the rest of the world thinks they're nuts, and then there's them. I’m just saying... Oh, and let's not even forget to mention that they have their own website. Not one sponsored by TLC, but their very own website run by them. Give.me.a.fucking.break.

-- "If you see on the news tomorrow about some kid in our town that woke up in the middle of nowhere surrounded by all his stuff, exactly set up like it was in his apartment, only minus his laptop, I did it."

Tonight, the neighbor took stealing my internet to a new low. Not a judge in the land would convict me if I conveniently sneaked into his house and moved him into a field in the middle of nowhere while he slept. I mean, what's the worst they could get me on? Breaking and entering, at best. I didn't harm him. I didn't steal any of his stuff, except for the laptop. But still, I have proof that he's been stealing my connection so no one could blame me for wanting to prevent that. Besides, what's he need a laptop for in the middle of nowhere, anyway?

Lastly, this is the odd ball. (Right. Like everything before this wasn't odd and ball shaped. Bad joke.) Becky was involved in this conversation, as opposed to just electronically laughing her ass off. We won’t even get into what this is about, but it kind of speaks for itself, even if it technically says nothing.

*Becky: “Remember when Pete said things that were in for the year? That wasn’t one of them. LOL!”

*Me: “Ahaha. Shall I suggest he make it one?”

*Becky: “Lmao. Nah.”

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Pete Wentz, each year he pretty much goes on about what is in for the year, and what isn’t. It used to just basically be something he mentioned on his blog is a passing manner, and jokingly. For instance, he’d say “being tall is so out for this year.” Because he’s short. Really, he says things like that. So at the beginning of this year, since he became popular for doing that, he wrote out really random things that were in for the year that had nothing to do with anything, and no one really agreed with. He’s controversial, ya’ll. Anywho, so that’s where her text came from. It’s hilarious to us. And if I remembered where to find this list, I would. But here's his blog. Knock yourself out on the epic search for knowledge and the ultimate conclusion that, if you do anything somewhat normal, you're out for this year.

And as we depart from my texts, we move into something much scarier, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. You would be lying, as I would now like to present you with a segment that I call “random IMs that I sent September 2nd.” No explanations this time. Just the text. If I explained, it’d be far less funny. Trust me on this.

P to the S - These are in order of which I sent them, so don’t try to make sense out of them. You won’t be able to. I often have five different conversations with the same person at one time.

-- “Haha. Oh God, you saw that? I can’t remember what it is, but I remember it was pretty good. And by pretty good, I mean bad.”

-- “I’LL KICK HIM!”

-- “It fits us. Only, we don’t like girls.”

-- “Basically, he’s saying I would beat him up.”

-- “Mr. I cut my wrists because I’m an emo turtle.”

-- “They’re bags that take on the persona of dogs.”
-- “Multi talented baaagsssss. *Sings*”
-- “Dude, sometimes bags do look like dogs. I’m pretty sure I never said that, ever.”

-- “God, I’m his mother.”
-- “I didn’t even give birth, but I’m still his mother.”

-- “He makes me mad because there’s not one good picture of his wrists.”

-- “He says he has better things to do.”
-- “I resent the fact that he thinks that.”
-- “I mean, it’s midnight there. And he’s obviously a loser like me and home.”

-- “Floral print, Ryan? should be a song.”

-- “Haha. Brenny Pants.”

-- “DUDE, SERIOUSLY! That’s what my response wants to be. However, I think I should convince it that it needs to be something more along the lines of HOLY SHIT, ARE YOU THAT STUPID?!”

-- “I should google, but I’m too lazy. Look, something for me to do tomorrow!”

-- “You and I would be besties if we lived in the same country.”

-- “In some pics. Very far away pics. Which is all of them.”

-- “And that just makes me think of Budussey and bad twin.”

-- “A 55 and 61 year old were dying. With laughter, of course.”

-- “He’s all ‘define gentle.’ And I could, but I figured this was the better response. ‘Someone who won’t hand cuff you to the bed and giggle.”

-- “Some peoples' idea of left and right is not the same as mine. Oddly enough, my idea of it also happens to be the dictionary definition of it as well.”

-- “Oh God, he’s allowed to have ideas now? BLASPHEMY!”

-- “I haven't seen him find food he doesn’t like, which is sad because he's like four pounds, and constantly argues with the wind to let him stay on the ground and not have a Dorothy moment.”

-- “Excuse me, I’m Inspector 39 and I’m just making sure you're still how God made you.”

-- “And now he's all ‘tell me. Tell me. Tell me.’ And somewhere precocious six year olds are envying him."

-- “I doubt that boy can even work a toaster, far more something more complicated. And yes, I consider himself to be more complicated than a toaster.”

-- “And we’re not talking about picking my nose and eating it. Which I don’t do.”

-- “I love you like a ten cent whore, which is awkward, because I usually only love people like two cent ones.”

-- “And if you did they’d be moobs, and I hardly want to see those.”

-- “And then I wonder...fuck. Which one of his shirts was I talking about?”

I’m just going to let these following two speak for themselves without a source or further explanation. It’s better that way.

-- “I’ve been really offended by your pajamas.”
-- “No, don’t apologize for them. Just don’t wear them.”

Then we have these gems, which were open conversation between me and Jo. See? I told you she’d come up again.

*Jo: “It’s pretty cheap.”
*Me: “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” (Really, Amy? REALLY, self?)

*Me: “The wind is going to start having a harder time with him.”
*Jo: “Poor wind. There goes its fun.”
*Me: “EXACTLY!”

And then there’s these that are compliments of Jo and Jo alone. Thank you, Jo, for letting me share. I asked first. I promise. I am not creatively borrowing these.

*Jo: “How come he gets a chest and I don’t?”

*Jo: “He’s so smooth he could sell ice to an eskimo.”

And Lastly, I would like to end this segment with self Tweets from my Twitter. (That sounds dirty. No?) Some are direct message quotes, therefore, you will never know what I was talking about, and others are public. Also with no explanations unless they’re totally necessary. I realize if you follow me in Twitter, you know some of these Tweets, but I think they bear repeating.

Let’s start with Direct Messages to my favorite Jo ever. (And the only Jo I know, but these are small details here, people. She is beyond A-W-E-S-O-M-E. Ooh, that could be a cheer. “Jo’s awesome. Nah, nah. Awesome! Ya. Awesome. Nah, nah. Awesome! A-W-E-S-O-M-E!”)

-- “He does have great teeth, even if they are yellow and his hair is receding. God can’t explain why I’m attracted to this boy.”

-- “At least I know where all our flies went. Hey, if you see Conga Fred, tell him I said hi.”
-- “Oh, you can totes swat Conga Fred by ‘accident.’ But just say hi first.”

-- “He’s the master of fucking people without them knowing he’s doing so. He’s always the right person to ask for stuff like this.”

-- “Flies are usually taller than him, so it wouldn’t be hard.”

And then there’s those Tweets that I share with the world, and should probably reel back in and keep to myself. But where’s the fun in that? If someone’s laughing at me, they’re leaving someone else alone. It works.

-- “It seems like everyday the same person teaches me how to take a lemon and not only make lemonade, but gracefully squish its ego, too.”

-- “SEX! Okay...now that I’ve got your attention...let’s talk penguins.” (As seen on a Facebook bumper sticker. Thank you, Rossi, for that bumper sticker. You always know the right things to say.)

-- “Hey, you can really sing!” “Oh no, I’ve heard what you consider music! This must mean I’m tone deaf!”

-- “I was really sick today and I blamed him. No reason. I haven’t even been around him. I just did it because I could.”

-- “Becky: I R MISSING OUT! Me: I R TOO! I R so sad for us!” (Making fun of a grammatically incorrect, badly spelled and all over challenged dating ad.)

-- “I just realized what a serious creeper my cat is. I hear horror movie music...”

-- “My mom and I are talking about a girl she used to work with who confessed she would die without disco music.”

-- “I just sent my mom a hilarious e-mail. I live with her. Tomorrow she’s going to be all what the heck? You are weird. I am proud.”

-- “Is your white button up shirt seriously pleated? You look like a pirate. A very gay pirate. It’s okay, though. I still love you.”

-- “I just sang ‘Green Acres, where the wind goes sweeping down the plain.’ Out loud. Then I realized it wasn’t right.”

And last we have the two Tweets that are going to break the rule of no explanations needed.

-- “Well played, smart ass elevator. Well played.”

While at the hospital the other day, we walked into a little cove where there were two sets of elevators, one on either side. Now, in a normal world where people had brains and things made sense, these elevators would all go to the same place. However, this is Pittsburgh, and the elevators did not, nor did the care to tell you this until you already hit the button and the elevator door opened. So basically the elevator just about took us to the wrong floor, and when we realized that it didn't go to the floor we needed to go to, we spent a few hot seconds wondering how in the hell we were going to get to that floor. Then, we realized the elevators directly across to the one that opened actually took you to the higher floors, so we had to hit the button again and wait for one of those elevators to arrive, as opposed to the one that just had. I felt like I was on candid camera.

-- “Our neighbor is mowing the lawn / weed eating while riding a golf cart so he doesn’t have to stand. It’s very epic.”

Probably one of the most epic things I’ve ever seen. But God bless Steve’s heart, because he does about nine million things in a day. You know that neighbor that is like a breed of super human and makes the whole neighborhood look bad with all they get done in a day, and how awesome and gracefully they do it? Every neighborhood has one. Steve is our neighborhood's, and we constantly find ourselves envying him, while awing over him and swearing at him for making us look bad all at one time. Then, he goes and finds a whole new way to to do things that we haven't even begun to think of it. Damn him!

And on a side note that has nothing to do with anything, much like the rest of this blog, I would like to highlight this video. I’m well known for making videos of my animals wishing people Happy Birthday, Happy Mother’s Day, etc. Sure, I thought I was pretty fruity and I probably could use mild psychiatric help, but I never sang to the videos, or put them online for everyone to see. Oh, and I’m not famous. So thank you, Brendon Urie, for making me realize that I’m either totally sane, or we’re both in need of a trip to the nut house. Either way, I feel better. And, if by chance we both are in need of a trip to the nut house, can we just go to the same one? That way, we can still make really stupid, but meaningful videos and scheme to hide our master plans from all the nurses. What I'm saying here is we could basically create trouble beyond epic proportions and have each other's backs, which is really all that counts in those four white walls. Right?