This Message Is Greta Hayley Approved

She's even sitting five feet from me, upside down, of course, and smiling. That says it all.

Last night my mom and I played the game of Life...and if it's an omen, I am screwed. Even though I'm thinking that probably doesn't cover it.

The game started out innocently enough. The first game consisted of us not remembering how to play it, having to stop and read directions and basically doing a bunch of stuff wrong. I won, but I still lost. How, you ask? I got to the finish line first and had the least money. Of course, we also finished out the game incorrectly, so it's kinda hard to say. Okay, it's not. I was broke compared to my mom. I lost. Then I decided that since we knew what we were doing, we'd play a second game correctly. This was quite possibly the worst and funniest idea ever, all mixed in one.

The game started out okay, and then I lost all my money and very quickly needed to borrow promissory notes. As my mom points out, she's never seen anyone ever need promissory notes, ever, in all the years she's played the game. That's okay, because that didn't stop me from piling them on. I needed, like, ten of them. This may not be the exact number, but it was seriously somewhere around there. I got to the end of the game, made some money, and was just able to pay them back. Only, I finished with so little money that I'd be embarrassed to tell you the exact amount.

My mom, on the other hand, hit everything lucky. She had money, a wife, and landed on all the great spaces. What's that? You want me to go back and explain how my completely straight mother had a wife? Okay...sure.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you're very well aware that my Mom and Aunt Bev, who are both straight, joke about how they would be the perfect couple. So while we were playing the game the first time, we were discussing how the game is morally out of date, as now gay and lesbian couples can get married, and therefore it should be just fine to marry someone of the same sex, and then adopt your kids instead of physically birthing them. My mom decided to do just that. When she landed on the spot that forced you to stop and get married, which is just so non modern, she decided to marry Aunt Bev and put another female in her car. Really, she did. I even have the text to prove it.

* We're playing Life, and my mom had to stop and collect a spouse, so she decided to marry Aunt Bev. So now her car has two girls in it.

From there, she and Aunt Bev had four kids; two boys and two girls, and the girls were twins. This was hilarious enough and definitely with the times. Upon my mom hanging out with Aunt Bev today, she came home and told me that she and Aunt Bev had a discussion, and their twins, Jessica and Jennifer, now have grown up and just moved into their first apartment together. I don't know what to say here other than Mazel Tov, and I'm not Jewish. They're not lesbians either...so it works.

I, on the other hand, had a very tragic ending to the game. No, I'm not talking about the said aforementioned losing. I'm not even talking about how I had to borrow three promissory notes to "donate" $50,000 to an orphanage because my ovaries decided to reject growing and popping out children. I'm talking about how my car finished alone. How is that possible, you ask? Well, I'd be glad to clear that up for you.

About midway through the game, my female driver, I.E. fake me, decided to jump ship. Sure, it was just a pink peg that I could have put back in the car, but I figured that the game was going so badly, that this was probably a sign, and really, she probably hadn't just fallen out like all good pegs do at one time or another. She had committed suicide. Pure, unadulterated suicide. She just couldn't take how far her family was in debt, or how many promissory notes she had. Therefore, I did her, or myself, a favor, and left her there. She was but a mere casualty of the game in Life, left right in the middle of the road on the space that informed me I had to pay interest on my promissory notes with the invisible money I did not have.

It wasn't long before the husband, somehow driving from the passenger seat, came along the space where he was forced to pay a ton of money for an inherited skunk farm that his Uncle had left him. He sincerely debated what to do, but after realizing he had also inherited on hundred cats off his Aunt earlier in the game and had to take out promissory notes for that, too, ones that he had yet to pay back, he followed in his wives footsteps and junked out on the rest of the game.

From there, my luck got good enough to finish the game with no promissory notes and little money. What I'm saying here, folks, is that the people in my car were a bad omen. The car itself, well, it did pretty damn good alone. I don't know how it drove itself. It must have had some Knight Rider type powers, but I don't question it. All I know is that I lost, but at least I didn't owe any money when I did it. I realize that's not any consolation, but it's all I got. Don't ruin this for me.

I am also just looking over my texts, because I know I sent some out about how awesomely hilarious this game ended up being, and I must share anything that I could have possibly forgotten. Which would be the following.

* Stitch also attacked the game board, so basically he's Godzilla to the game of Life.

He really, really was. We're right in the middle of the first game; the far less disastrous one, and all of a sudden, he jumped on the game board and pranced around like he owned the world. He really gave the people in the cars a good scare. He even almost managed to wreck one of the roads that was coming off, so I ended up having to tape it back down. Seriously, though, I think I should have taken out my phone and, instead of texting, video taped his rampage. It could have been the next blockbuster. Okay, fine, so it could have been an awesome re-take on Godzilla. I mean, cats are cuter than apes. It could work. Don't ruin this for me, either.

Needless to say, for my humor, this was pretty much the funniest game I've ever played in my life. No pun intended. This tops both bowling sober and being beat out by a drunk guy when Becky's and my scores were combined, and several rip roaring holiday games of Mall Madness. If you've ever played Mall Madness, this speaks for itself.

This Saturday is Leo's birthday party. Leo is my dog. Aunt Bev is coming over, and I think since we have no movie to watch on this special night like we normally do on our party nights, we shall all have to play Life AND Mall Madness just so I have something to blog about. I'm gonna try to make this happen. You with me, Ladies?

In other, much more important news, if you are the praying kind, please pray for my Grandma. She is in the hospital and not doing well. I'm not asking you to pray for things to work out perfect for her, or for all of us that really don't want to lose her, because the world is not perfect. I'm asking that you pray for what is right for her, and for God's will to work itself out. I have full faith that he knows what is right for her. I love my Grandma dearly, so please, even if you're not the praying kind, make an exception. For Grandma.

If you do, I will even share fun texts with you. Oh, screw it, I was going to do it anyway. And I apologize that I only have a few texts this time, and a very small amount of IMs, but I've barely been online / on my phone, or sociable, because there's just been so much going on. Especially emotionally with the worry about my Grandma. I'll try to make them fun, anyway. I'm just going to get to the point.

IMs, because there's more of them, but they're funnier and more pointless at the same time. Double score:

* Because ultimately, the person you're in a relationship with should be your best friend.

This starts out well enough, but in the very next sentence, in the very same IM, this is exactly what happens, steering this otherwise true thought, into muddy, uncivilized waters.

... I'm not saying you have to have slumber parties, or paint each other's nails here...but damn.

Okay, I'm totally saying that you have to have non sexual slumber parties and paint each other's nails. Because if a guy isn't willing to don the hot pink, and he can't paint your nails all pretty so you can avoid paying to get them done, then what good is he? Where's the dedication? Where's the talent?

* You know what's even weirder, is when you put x.x and I didn't see the period between them, I was all, "Is she trying to tell me something XX."

She wasn't. She was trying to make a face on the computer. You know, X-ed out eyes, X-ed out mouth? Only I liked my explanation better...

* And a love story. Supernatural: Not a love story.

Unless you think that two brothers touring the nation and whacking demons is a love story. If you do, then I really am unsure if I want to make you my best friend, or if I would literally move to another country to get away from you.

* He, on the other hand, picks pockets.

Relax. Although I know this could explain a lot of people, it's concerning someone in one of my novels, and isn't based on anyone I know. At least I don't think it is. Actually, it could be. Wait, where's my ten?

* Even if Jensen Ackles ran around without a shirt for the whole episode, it isn't worth it.

Okay, I know there's really no reason this should ever be a true statement, but you guys, there's a Supernatural episode about clowns. Even if he was naked...he is not worth an episode about killer clowns. KILLER CLOWNS! Yesh! No wonder kids hate clowns!

* ilu8 looks like a hula dance. Don't ask me why, but I see ilu8 and I think of hula dancing. Please tell me that made sense to someone, somewhere.

It made sense to Becky 3, and she agreed that ilu8 looks like hula. If I'm crazy, I'm not alone. That's all that really matters at the end of life. You're not alone. Unless you're talking the game of Life, then that's pretty much the only way to win; get more money alone than the other players.

* Toot is right up there with Uranus for me.

Listen, we've already discussed that I'm one of "those" people when it comes to Uranus. Is it really any shock that I can't hold a straight face when someone says toot?

Becky 3 and I also decided we were tired of people, so we were finding an otherwise uninhabited island and planting our own flag on it, therefore claiming it. Or stealing it. I think we settled on having to steal it, but let's just go with "claiming" it because it sounds more legal. Probably because it is. Oh, and we're also making it our own country. One island. Anyway, you can only visit us by invitation, and we figured we'll lie and try to make it sound like some really awesome retreat so that we can get celebrities to come. We've already decided on several who we will be sending our invitations to once we get the whole finding an uninhabited island and building housing on it thing taken care of. The list includes Jensen Ackles, because we want to look at him. Brendon Urie...because he amuses us with his ADHD. Pete Wentz, because we want to see what he would really do without police there to stop him, and somewhere that it was impossible for him to get arrested. In hindsight, that's probably not such a good idea. Tell us something we don't know. (Seriously, you fell for that link? Oh, and wasn't she just uber adorable with this song on Dancing With the Stars tonight?) Then we decided we could also have one old guy each, so she went with Alan Rickman, and I picked George Eads. Oh, shut up. You are so not surprised by this. In the epicness of all of this, I feel the need to share the juicy parts of our IM on how this came about.

Me: Should we start making a list of people who are allowed? I'm thinking with us it's going to be a lot of hot guys / celebs, and we're going to have to send them invitations. As creepy as that is, as long as we make them pretty, I'm convinced it will be okay. No one can hate pretty.

Becky: You're right. Pretty = good. And shiny. (There's obvious reasons we're friends here, folks.)

Me: YES! And friendly. (Can invitations really be friendly? Isn't that a human trait? Can inanimate objects take on human traits? Let's just say they can and be done with it. More on this later.)

Becky: You gotta have sparkles, too.

Me: (Regarding them being the aforementioned "friendly.") We won't be all, "Hi, we just stole an island, and we think you're hot, so you have to come." They'll say stuff like, "You're cordially invited to a very special event on: *Insert Island Name Here* We would be absolutely glorified to have you as our guest. Instead of, "Look, we have an island, you're hot, come visit." (I've also decided that the island's name is now officially Insert Island Name Here. Catchy, no?)

Becky: Yes. Oh wait...we're not kidnapping them and keeping them there? (Really, you're still curious about why we're friends. She's the genius to my evil. Or maybe that's visa versa. I'm not sure. I'll ask her. She can pick.)

Me: Umm. I mean. Well... (That should have been a no, but since we're already doing something illegal, why the heck not? Everyone needs to throw caution to the wind sometimes. Whomever coined that phrase, I'm sure is rolling in their grave now, smashing their head repeatedly off of pointy things just hoping to feel something that comes similar to the sound of their poor, dead heart breaking over the misconstrued way we're taking their words.)

Becky: I mean, they'll want to stay because it's soo awesome anyway. (Yes, soo, with two o's. I could insert a joke here, but my Mom and Aunt Bev read this blog. Besides, Aunt Bev, would you like to take this one? You, with all the articles about underwear that push you up and out, and vibrators, that you're saving for me? And when I get them, I promise to explain this better and post them on here.)

Me: Okay, look, let's do this. We're cute girls. Let's let them come to our island several at a time, so it's not creepy, and we'll just charm them. If they stay, they stay. If not, we won't make them, but we will friend them so they keep coming back, and we'll win them over in the end.

Becky: O. Okay. I like that better.

Me: I think it will work beautifully. I mean, we're charming enough to win them over.

The conversation was fairly sub par while we figured out who we were inviting, then once we figured out we were each inviting one older guy, we realized this.

Me: I think maybe we're creepy. And if those are our old guys, how old can we go before anyone else is considered an old guy? Oh god, we are. (Yes, we are creepy. But not window peeking creepy. Just verbally creepy. Okay, not even that. Just keyboard creepy.)

In the end, we decided 35 - 39 tops. I think it's obvious at our ages of early twenties, we like older guys, if that's what we're considering old. If not, I have no other reasoning for the twelve years of flexibility we've allowed ourselves.

Texts concerning Supernatural.

* This dude just said, "If it bit them in the persqueeter." And he didn't crack a smile. Is persqueeter a word?

Okay, look, it's already been discussed that I'm probably the only person who would hear this line, and instead of cracking up, immediately text someone and ask them if persqueeter was a word. You would think with a mind like that, I watch a lot of the History channel, or something, but no. I am, however, a fan of TLC, although I think the name, The Learning Channel, is an oxymoron, as all I've learned from it is how to pick a wedding dress that flatters, and what it's like to raise eight kids. Just saying...but that's not the point. The point is, persqueeter is a word. I looked it up. It does not mean ass, which I thought was an awesome initial assumption. I will not say what it means, but if you're curious, look it up on the urban dictionary. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* Last night I woke up to the theme from Supernatural, as my DVD reverted back to the menu. What I want to know is how in the hell did I fall asleep watching guys that hot? That's illegal somewhere.

In case I need to remind you, hello Jensen and Jared. I mean, seriously. And it wasn't even late. For those of you who know me, you know this is some kind of mortal sin. I'm an insomniac. It's rare I can even sleep, and then to fall asleep during Supernatural? Yeah, I can't figure it out either. (Alright, guys, no, I do not watch the show because they're hot. I really, really enjoy the plotline, as ridiculous as it may seem. I'm hooked. The fact that they're hot; it's just a bonus.)

* "We're using a Spongebob tablecloth in place of an alter covering?" ... "Well, just put it Spongebob side down."

Okay, this makes me want to take a day and visit a ton of churches, turning their alter covers upside down just to see if Spongebob is beneath any of them. If he is, I'm totally "creatively borrowing" their alter covers. And by creatively borrowing, I mean stealing. So basically what I'm saying is that I could go to jail over Spongebob. How many people can say that?

* My neighbor, Mr. Rogers, tried to kill me, so I was forced to kill him." ... "So wait, you killed Mr. Rogers?" ... "Yes." ... "Okay. I just had to get that straight."

This is hilarious considering Mr. Rogers was Mr. Do-Gooder. Now, guys, I realize there's been a rumor going around that Mr. Rogers was actually a Navy Seal. And I know this is going to come as a shock to my Mom, but he was not, actually. I've done some extensive research on that, and it is nothing more but an urban legend and has been repeatedly confirmed as not true. There are exactly zero listings of him ever being in the Military, Army, Navy Seals, etc. It's just not true. So for those of you laughing and thinking Mr. Rogers could have actually kicked the guys ass before he killed him, it's not true. Well, I mean, maybe he could have, but being a Minister, I think that might be unholy or something. I can't say for sure. If someone's trying to kill you and your only choice is to kill them first, what is a Minister to do? (No, really, does anyone know the answer to this?)

Yesterday I got a text from Becky asking me if she came with a warning label, what it would be. It was one of those awesome mass texts, so of course I wanted to have the best answer. I'm sure I didn't, but I definitely had the best backpedaling.

* WARNING: Have boobs, will travel.

For obvious reasons, I realized three minutes later just how bad that sounded. Yeah, it took me that long to become a big enough pervert to realize it, but I did.

* I promise your warning label was not meant to make you sound like a whore. I'm just saying...damn, you got boobs.

And she does. Just ask her. I mean, it's not that I'm looking at her boobs, but we're girls. We shop together. We make fun of our boobs together, and complain about our boobs together. Yes, guys, girls really do that. Don't you wish you were a fly on a sorority wall? Okay, you already wished that, but don't you just wish that more now?

* Wait! Wait...WARNING: Damn, I got boobs.

I think I got it that time. Or not.

Reasons I should never be allowed to watch Dancing With the Stars.

* I just used the phrase "They're having a ball with whomever has their hand up that puppet."

How does this have to do with DWTS, you ask? Did you even watch it last night? Did you see how the Muppets were on there, and the one played a saxophone in the one judge's ear. Yeah, I could try to spell his name, but I don't think that's fair to do that to a person. His first name is Bruno. From there it's just a jumble of letters that I will never get in the correct order. Anyway, it was funny. Then, the puppet made friends with good ole' Bruno and it was awesome. So yes, I think my comment was warranted. Whomever was controlling that puppet, they were having a blast. And kids, I'm just kidding. That wasn't a puppet. That was a real Muppet. *Whistles innocently*

I think I'll just stop here before I ruin Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny for anyone else. Because they're totally real. Totally.