Naturally, I come bearing the important news of the world and know how to keep you up to date with current events. Yeah, okay, I'm kidding, but I do have some fun things to share with the great world wide web. And by great world wide web, I mean my whole five readers, and that may be being generous, but I love all of you and am totally okay with that.
As a girl, I would like to start out by talking about age. Is age really just a number? I think it is, personally. Just because you are a certain age does not mean there's anything backing the fact that this is as such. Sometimes a twenty something acts more like a sixteen year old, while others act ninety. Let me give you all an example.
The other day I was at the doctor. I know you're all shocked by this because I am usually the pillar of health. I mean, just read anywhere on this blog and you'll see that I never have to go to the doctor because I don't at all have an autoimmune disease and a heart problem.
I am such a bad liar. Keep stock in knowing I could never even lie to you, folks. Not even over the internet. That's how bad of a liar I am.
Anywhomaburger, back to the subject at hand. While I was at the doctor we were discussing my blood disorder, dizzy spells and an ongoing issue I've had with my back for the last six months, one in which no one has seemed to be able to resolve. To make a long story short, I can now say I am the proud wearer of support hose for my blood condition, and a donut for my back. So as I type, I am rocking my support hose and sitting on my donut. At twenty four, I'm not sure how it gets much cooler than that.
I'm lying again, of course, but I'm totally okay with being a little old lady. I think it's hysterical, to be honest. I am just not your average girl. No, I am now twenty four going on ninety. So really, where does age come in? If you read this blog and didn't know my age, but knew I was sitting on a donut while wearing support hose, how old would you think I was? What's that, you say? Ninety. Okay, since we're settled on the age of ninety, let me bring something else up.
I am in love with the new Taylor Swift line of greeting cards. As we all know, I love cute things and this is precisely why I love Taylor in the first place. She is cute, her songs are cute and I love all things cute. Then, there's her lyrics. She has learned more in her short life than I have in my also short, but little bit longer one. She writes the lyrics of someone who has seen worlds that don't belong and come out on the other side of paradise. In other words, the woman knows what she's talking about and could otherwise be thought of as well into her twenties if her real age wasn't known. I, on the other hand, am instantly sixteen for loving her cards as much as I do. And there may or may not have been an incident of loud excitement and a little bit of jumping in the middle of Rite Aid upon realizing she actually had a card line, because I am so cool that I totally read it on the internet first.
This is another lie. I didn't know she had a line of cards until I saw them right there in the middle of the store. For those of you who also have not seen her card line, you can get a little taste here. If that's not enough, let me just say her cards represent her style, her lyrics and her new video for Fifteen.
Now let's go back to age. As mentioned earlier, I am ninety, but let's factor in how I am now sixteen for liking Taylor's cards so much. I just want to know how old this now makes me. How do you round off that age and figure it all out in the wash, so to speak? Because, damn it, I just want to know how old really am.
On a better note, my joke for years has been that I will get married when I'm ninety and in a nursing home, so if I am really old what with my donut and support hose, this means I am that much closer to getting married. I guess I should start scoping out nursing homes to make sure I find the "cool" one. This begs the question, are there any cool nursing homes?
I would also like to tell you all that the real win in sitting on a donut, however, is that I suddenly fill like Hugh Normous from the Wizards of Waverly Place. Let me explain for those of you who aren't familiar with a children's show. Hugh was adopted and grew up with a family of giants, but he, however, is not a giant. He is but a normal sized person, and this bums Hugh out, because he wants to be a giant. To combat this, his giant parents buy everything super small for him, that way he feels large. His glasses are too small, his pencils, his backpack; you name it, it's too small.
I, on the other hand, buy things that fit me just right. I have a Goldilocks complex. Then I sat on a donut and my world fell down around me. I always use my laptop while sitting on the couch because I don't have a desk dedicated to laptop time. I simply spread out with my laptop on the coffee table. This normally works great, except now the donut has lifted me up about four inches above where I normally sit, and I end up hunched over my computer in a little ball while trying to type with it on the coffee table. I feel like Hugh Normous. I think this is plausibly acceptable.
For those of you who don't know, I have a very fat cat. She is healthy, but fat. Fat may be an understatement. Her name is also Pie, which just happens to fit her so perfectly. She was named when she was but a skinny little kitten. It's like we knew. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is we have a cat door that goes into the cat room, which is also our second bathroom. We keep the door shut so the dogs don't eat the cat's food, and up until now no one has had an issue getting in and out of the cat door. Not even Pie. That was until a few days ago. Now Pie can not get in and out of the cat door, and we're really not nice enough to not bust out laughing every time she stands there and paws and screams at the door because she wants us to let her out or in. She's not even our biggest cat, just the fattest. We have other cats that are not fat, but larger than her and they get in and out just fine. Pie needs to go on a diet.
My friend's brother has gone on vacation and left him alone for a week in a house that is owned by his brother, but he also shares with him. On his first full day alone things were going amazingly well. That was until his brother's friend texted him and asked if she could come over and pick something up that she had left there. My friend said sure, they arranged a time and he went to take a nap. He set his alarm, woke up and started getting ready to go out with his very own friend and get ice cream, while waiting for his brother's friend to come pick up whatever she wanted. Only she didn't come. So he contacted her and asked her what was up since he needed to leave. Turns out she had already come, got in the house, got what she wanted and left...all while he was asleep. This freaked him out, and naturally it should. In fact, he even texted her and asked her if what she came to take was his sense of security. I think this is accurate. I mean, that's creepy; someone sneaking into your house while you're asleep and you having no idea how they got in and out, far more how they did it while you slept. He is now concerned his underthings will go missing one night and he'll never know who did it or when.
On a better note, despite being bored and now scared to be alone in that house, he decided it would be in his best interest to move so that his brother's crazy friends don't come in and take things while he's asleep. He's surmised that living alone would be better than being alone in someone else's house. When I inquired about this he expressed that he's bored alone but he doesn't miss his brother. I think this sums up all the reasons I adore him in a nutshell.
I have Sprint cell service. I love Sprint and had a good run with their people in customer service. Every time I called I got someone foreign who spoke better English than most people I knew and didn't sound like they were reading from a script. They gave exceptional service and were friendly. Then I called the other day and got an American guy. I repeated my user name and password to him four times, which really was my name and birth date; info he already had. After the fourth time he put me on hold and went and got a supervisor. Five minutes later he came back and repeated my user name and password, claiming he couldn't get in. He still had it wrong. He then expressed that if I cared to repeat my information one time, he would type it while I said it this time to assure he got it right. I was embarrassed because I thought that had been what he was doing, but suddenly didn't wonder so much why he kept incorrectly putting my information in. He did get it right after he typed as I spoke, or I assumed so because he said, "that time it worked." This was followed immediately by, "oh, oh no, let me put you on hold again." I hung up because I didn't have all day to continue to repeat things to this guy, which was no offense to him, but quite frankly I missed the foreign people.
Kids here are apparently awesome. Some little girl on the news just said "I know you're going to be jealous, but I got to swim with sea turtles." Touche, little girl, touche. I am jealous. You are right.
On a final note, I changed my layout before hell froze over. I hope you like it!
Friday, March 26, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Backa Backa Backa
I come bearing three stories that are guaranteed to make you laugh. In fact, if you don’t laugh, I will give you all your time back that you lost reading this blog. It may take me until the time of my death to do so, as I can’t say I know Father Time personally, but I promise that I will maybe, one day in your lifetime, give you your time back. Possibly.
Last week I had wandered into Peebles, which is some kind of newer store we have here that I’m still up in the air about. It tries to be a department store, but its building structure and decor are reminiscent of K-Mart and the prices are higher than ones you would find in Macy’s, when the product is of lesser quality. Occasionally you can find a really rockin’ deal, but a lot of times the clothes that are on clearance resemble more of something you would find at a second hand store. This item would also be from somewhere around the seventies, or a bedazzling product that went wrong. I realize this may not be the case at all Peebles, but at this particular one this is the case. This will be important in a moment.
The reason for my visit was that I was searching for pants for my mom. They’re the only place that sells pants with gum in them around here, which are just the kind of pants my mom likes. The pants, as a whole, are actually decent dress pants. I had gotten her a pair on sale for a super great price before, and was hoping to get the same deal. No luck. However, what I did get will stay with me and go down in the top ten in my hall of awesomeness.
After having no luck with the pants, I made my way back to the shoes to see if I could find a good deal on them. In our store, the shoes happen to be right in front of the dressing rooms. I’m unsure of who this made sense to, but apparently to someone, either that, or they just thought it would be funny to put the dressing rooms on the opposite side of the store from where the clothing is. As I was perusing the shoe aisles, some sixty something lady comes flying out of the dressing room with no shirt on, yelling about how she was missing her shirt. Yeah...I know. How does this happen, you ask.
Now guys, I’m not totally sure, as I didn’t hear the whole thing, but I shall relate what I gathered. Someway, somehow, while this lady was in the dressing room trying on clothes, the dressing room attendant got a hold of her actual shirt and proceeded to hang it up and place it on the sales rack. I can’t for the life of me figure out how this could have happened. Was the lady trying on a shirt, and outside of her dressing room looking in the full length mirror when the attendant snuck in her room and cleared it out? If so, why didn't the lady come out in the shirt she was trying on? Did the lady happen to walk out of the room in her bra because it was fun and the attendant got in there and cleaned out the dressing room? I really have no clue. I would have crept up on them and listened in very closely, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I was listening.
All I know was that the shirtless lady originally bought her shirt at Peebles. This shirt was now on clearance, so the attendant took it upon herself to hang the shirt up in the sales rack. Now, in discredit to the attendant, the fact that she hung a shirt up with no price tag was pretty sad on her part. I usually don’t pick on people in jobs as such, as I’ve been there, but come on! How could she not notice there was no tag? And she didn’t bother to put a price tag on it, which is how she was able to go through the sales rack and pick out which shirt belonged to the lady in a sea of shirts that looked the same; it was the shirt with no price tag. The lady was half angry and half laughing over the way she literally lost her shirt. Needless to say, I split out of there like a bat out of hell, before I burst into a fit of laughter that would give me away. I love people.
I don’t know how many of you know about the odd dreams I often have, but for those of you who don’t, I’ll just put this in the most understated way possible. I have odd dreams. We’re not talking slightly odd dreams. We’re talking Alice In Wonderland worthy dreams. I don’t even take anything that would cause these dreams. I'm not into that. This is all me. I think that’s possibly the scariest part. I’ve yet to decide if I’m a really creative person with an imaginative way of thinking, or if I should check myself into a mental hospital. That being said, I will let you decide by sharing my most recent wacky dream with all of you.
In this particular dream I was an FBI agent that worked on a team with two guys and one other girl. Aside from the fact that someone actually let me have a gun, this all seems very normal, right? Yeah, not so much.
My job as an FBI agent?
The chase and capture a man who was hiding on a fishing boat and growing eggs that would hatch kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. Yes, kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. You read that right, folks.
This is where it really gets bizarre, because eggs hatching kitties and puppies is obviously not bizarre enough. We were chasing after him on the boat. Two agents went upstairs on this boat, because for some reason this fishing boat was some kind of Mob fishing boat that was tricked out to resemble a dive diner. The upstairs of this boat was the living quarters. Myself and the other male agent, who was my partner, headed into the diner where we spotted the perp carrying the eggs in a wrap around his stomach. We decided to play it cool, get something to eat, watch him, and then at the safest and most opportune time, we would take him down. Therefore, we had to eat and pretend like we were dating, while we texted the other agents to have them come down. Once they made their way down, we took the guy down.
And this is where the dream passes bizarre. As we were taking him down, he pointed a water gun at me. This terrified me beyond possible belief, even though he didn’t shoot. I therefore did the most logical thing and shot him with my gun. This is when I realized my gun wasn’t loaded, which obviously meant someone was smart enough to not give me a loaded gun. The three shots I fired obviously did nothing, but the perp played dead anyway. That’s when my partner took the eggs and ran before the guy realized he wasn’t actually dead. It took three of us to arrest this guy who honestly believed he was dead and never tried to move. After we did so, we got him into local police custody and went after our agent who had the eggs. Why he took off with them instead of also giving them to the local police, I don’t remember. I think it had something to do with these eggs being some kind of super secret hybrids that Fort Detrick had been trying to detain. Apparently kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties, are that awesome that they must be kept top secret.
In terms of weird; this is where we fall right down the rabbit hole and bump out heads pretty hard, and then start hallucinating. The other agents and myself went after my partner, who, if you remember, had taken off with the eggs. We ran along the water line, back towards our hotel, only to find him just past the dock that went to our hotel, because naturally the hotel was in the middle of the water and you could only get there by crossing a dock. Said partner was being chased by a snake that walked like a hunched over human, but definitely had the head and body of a very large, thick, walking snake. We yelled to him and distracted the snake long enough for him to turn around and start back towards the hotel. As he was running towards us, we could see that the kitties and puppies were starting to hatch. Obviously, this was bad because the snake wanted to eat them. We ran quickly over the dock thinking we had one up on the human snake, but no, the snake could swim. It was neck and neck with us as we ran, but finally we got ahead of it and got into the main entrance of the hotel. We stopped to breathe only to find the snake had snuck into the side entrance. It was closing in on us quickly...
In terms of weird; this is now where we are beginning to wake up from the coma we had been put in from hitting our head after falling into the rabbit hole. Obviously medication is involved, so we’re still quite loopy. Just as we thought the snake had us for sure and we couldn’t shoot it because none of our guns are loaded, it started to talk. It had a male voice and it didn’t sound very threatening. And then it did something totally unreal. It took off my head and underneath it was...prepare yourself.
My sister.
Let’s recap, shall we? I don’t have a sister. I never have.
And now you’ve officially been introduced to my most personal and uncontrolled thoughts that I have when I enter the deep world of slumber. I don’t know if I should tell you you’re welcome, or apologize. So I’ll do both. You’re sorry. See, it’s a mix of both.
One thing you all do know about me is that I often watch odd and horrible television shows out of boredom. The harder the show sucks, the dumber it is, or especially if it’s a “scary” movie on Chiller or Sci-Fi, I am so there. This doesn’t exclude ridiculous reality shows either. To credit this, I must say I thoroughly enjoy “TRANSform Me” on VH1. Those biatches have some serious style. I hate it when transvestites are prettier than myself, a natural woman. I get more jealous of them than born women that are prettier than me. I think this is normal.
But that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the show Amazing Wedding Cakes. It doesn’t really fit into the above category, because it’s not an odd show, but it is a reality show. I, like a lot of women, am into the whole wedding show craze. I mean, I’m 24 with no boyfriend, but weddings still make me all giggly and fuzzy inside, so I watch.
I happened to come in late to watch Amazing Wedding Cakes the other night and missed the part where the bakeries interview the clients about what kind of cake they want. I came in, in the middle of a very gorgeous cake being made. The manager kept a close eye on the cake and made sure to reiterate to the employees that they really had to be careful to find the right balance of masculinity and femininity with this cake. I thought this was just amazingly sweet and such a great sign of a good, attentive owner, because no husband wants a girly cake and no woman wants to forget their husband when it comes to their wedding cake. I watched as they painstakingly hand made flowers out of fondant and added them, but not too many, and painted the decoration on the cake, but didn’t make it too masculine. When the thing was done, it was an absolute masterpiece. It was something both a man and woman would adore, and I had the ultimate appreciation for this specific bakery. Then they showed it at the wedding. The couple they had just painstakingly tried to find a balance of masculinity and femininity for?
Two gay men.
I am so confused. All I do know is that if I finally get tired of men and go lesbian, I’m definitely getting my cake there when I get married, that way I’ll know that my cake will have the right amount of masculinity for me and my wife.
For those of you who have not had to endure my texts, let me assure you that this is not an easy task. Most people send normal texts such as “what are you doing today,” and “how have you been?” I tend to send texts more along the lines of this:
“LMAO, so random. It’s like a breakup story and a country song what with him giving you your stuff back. Or should I say a country song in reverse.”
“You have no idea how badly I wanted to text your brother and be like, ‘SCRATCH AT THE WALLS!’ Good thing I don’t have his number.”
“I prefer ‘Evil Genius,’ but thanks.”
“Maybe it’s a lesboa. Maybe we have this lesboa thing all wrong.”
“You expect demons to do things pure evil from the bottom of their non existent hearts. Humans, not so much.”
“Other than buy the DVD and giggle the whole way home?”
“Darn. What if we do chalk outlines of lampposts and name them?”
These are actual texts that I sent to others. I realize those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile are familiar with my weird texting from the segments where I would post my actual texts on here, but I thought I would give you all a new dose of texts, because what you’re about to see takes my texting weirdness to a new level and you won’t be able to unsee it. Just a warning.
Oh, the name of this text was Backa Backa Backa. It got its name from the Sabrina the Teenage Witch where Aunt Zelda transforms into a monster for Sabrina's movie she is producing, and proceeds to walk across the camera saying "backa backa backa" to bookmark the scenes.
The story behind the text is, and yes, it’s so weird that I feel the need to explain it, is as follows: I woke up very sick in my stomach last night. I couldn’t fall back to sleep and needed something to do that didn’t require moving, so I turned on the television hoping to be entertained. I thought I fell asleep watching Criminal Minds on ION and then later got up and turned the TV off, but apparently I fell asleep watching something on Teen Nick, because when I turned the television on, I was immediately assaulted with a Justin Bieber video. The video was just beginning and I proceeded to be in shock as I watched it the whole way through. During this time several things occurred to me, prompting the following text.
But before I get into the text, let me just say that I have nothing against Justin Bieber, but he’s not my cup of tea. For those of you who don’t know who he is, he’s that boy that everyone always thinks is a girl when they hear him sing. Then, when you see him, he dresses like mess of a white boy, writes music that’s usually pointed at a far different age range and demographic, and tries to dance like Michael Jackson and fails. I feel he’s singing songs he knows nothing about at his age, and he’s part of everything that’s wrong with the music industry. I’m tired of people trying to act older than they are, while trying to appeal to a younger audience and coming across completely fake. I just think he’s faking who he really is to sell albums. And maybe he’s not, so if you like him, I am sorry. This is just how I feel when I hear his songs, or, as so happened last night, see his videos. Also, he’s sixteen and his voice hasn’t even begun to change. WTF is up with that, guys?
Anyway, onto the world’s oddest and longest text:
This is a list of things that I am now curious about after seeing a Justin Bieber video for the first time:
1. In the video, Justin is chasing his “first love” around. Do they really expect us to believe someone was actually in love with that little dude that wasn’t a gay boy? I call Justin Beiber is stalking said girl, thus why she is running.
2. How bankrupt is Ludacris that he both lent his “vocals” to the song and admitted it, as well as made his way into the music video?
3. How come people always hear Justin and think it’s Christina Aguilera. This must be a fluke, as not only am I personally insulted for Christina, but I’m also insulted as a woman. (Let's compare: Justin ... Christina.)
4. Do they really think it’s respectful to mock Michael Jackson by having some little white “dude” “dance” his moves? Dude can not dance and is basically just insulting himself and The King. This should be illegal. And since when is it okay for a 16 year old to do pelvic thrusts and grab his crotch, assuming he’s got anything to grab?
5. Is possible he’s related to Lady Gaga? No one’s proven her to be a woman yet, just as no one’s proven him to be a man, and at his age his voice should have at least started to change but hasn’t. Until proven otherwise, I remain insulted that someone like him could be a woman, but I won’t totally rule it out.
6. Who discovered him / thought giving him a career / thought giving him his own music video was a good idea?
7. Is that person, per say, a lifetime alcoholic with serious brain damage? (I'm sorry, you guys. I really am. I just think this kid has no business in the industry. There's so many talented people out there, and I'm not saying he's not talented, but there's just too many people who are eons more talented than him that should be out there. Do his albums even sell? Because I've yet to come across someone who likes him and doesn't make fun of him.)
8. Is he related to this person? After thinking this out further, I realize it’s highly doubtful his parents would resort to claiming their relation to him by putting him in the industry, before they would risk less humiliation by simply whoring themselves out on the streets if they were that in need of money.
9. Are we absolutely sure he’s not related to Lady Gaga? I often toy with the theory that there’s no way her parents watch her dance in videos wearing only pasties and are proud of her. More in the some, there’s no way Justin’s parents are proud he sounds like / looks like a lesbian willingly. They have to have the same parents if pride is possible.
10. Why didn’t I just change the channel?
On another note, I think Miranda Cosgrove is adorable. She sings songs that fit her look, her brand, and her age range. It appeals to her audience. Sure, her songs are a bit cheesy, but she knows what age range she’s playing to and what's appropriate for her age range, yet older people can like her too because she’s clean and herself. She has a long way to go as far as improving her technique, but her tone is absolutely gorgeous. I think there's a ton of potential there. I hope she continues to work on it and taps into all that potential. I want to see more Mirandas and Selena Gomezs and less of Justins. Please?
Tune in closer to Easter for a special presentation.
Last week I had wandered into Peebles, which is some kind of newer store we have here that I’m still up in the air about. It tries to be a department store, but its building structure and decor are reminiscent of K-Mart and the prices are higher than ones you would find in Macy’s, when the product is of lesser quality. Occasionally you can find a really rockin’ deal, but a lot of times the clothes that are on clearance resemble more of something you would find at a second hand store. This item would also be from somewhere around the seventies, or a bedazzling product that went wrong. I realize this may not be the case at all Peebles, but at this particular one this is the case. This will be important in a moment.
The reason for my visit was that I was searching for pants for my mom. They’re the only place that sells pants with gum in them around here, which are just the kind of pants my mom likes. The pants, as a whole, are actually decent dress pants. I had gotten her a pair on sale for a super great price before, and was hoping to get the same deal. No luck. However, what I did get will stay with me and go down in the top ten in my hall of awesomeness.
After having no luck with the pants, I made my way back to the shoes to see if I could find a good deal on them. In our store, the shoes happen to be right in front of the dressing rooms. I’m unsure of who this made sense to, but apparently to someone, either that, or they just thought it would be funny to put the dressing rooms on the opposite side of the store from where the clothing is. As I was perusing the shoe aisles, some sixty something lady comes flying out of the dressing room with no shirt on, yelling about how she was missing her shirt. Yeah...I know. How does this happen, you ask.
Now guys, I’m not totally sure, as I didn’t hear the whole thing, but I shall relate what I gathered. Someway, somehow, while this lady was in the dressing room trying on clothes, the dressing room attendant got a hold of her actual shirt and proceeded to hang it up and place it on the sales rack. I can’t for the life of me figure out how this could have happened. Was the lady trying on a shirt, and outside of her dressing room looking in the full length mirror when the attendant snuck in her room and cleared it out? If so, why didn't the lady come out in the shirt she was trying on? Did the lady happen to walk out of the room in her bra because it was fun and the attendant got in there and cleaned out the dressing room? I really have no clue. I would have crept up on them and listened in very closely, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I was listening.
All I know was that the shirtless lady originally bought her shirt at Peebles. This shirt was now on clearance, so the attendant took it upon herself to hang the shirt up in the sales rack. Now, in discredit to the attendant, the fact that she hung a shirt up with no price tag was pretty sad on her part. I usually don’t pick on people in jobs as such, as I’ve been there, but come on! How could she not notice there was no tag? And she didn’t bother to put a price tag on it, which is how she was able to go through the sales rack and pick out which shirt belonged to the lady in a sea of shirts that looked the same; it was the shirt with no price tag. The lady was half angry and half laughing over the way she literally lost her shirt. Needless to say, I split out of there like a bat out of hell, before I burst into a fit of laughter that would give me away. I love people.
I don’t know how many of you know about the odd dreams I often have, but for those of you who don’t, I’ll just put this in the most understated way possible. I have odd dreams. We’re not talking slightly odd dreams. We’re talking Alice In Wonderland worthy dreams. I don’t even take anything that would cause these dreams. I'm not into that. This is all me. I think that’s possibly the scariest part. I’ve yet to decide if I’m a really creative person with an imaginative way of thinking, or if I should check myself into a mental hospital. That being said, I will let you decide by sharing my most recent wacky dream with all of you.
In this particular dream I was an FBI agent that worked on a team with two guys and one other girl. Aside from the fact that someone actually let me have a gun, this all seems very normal, right? Yeah, not so much.
My job as an FBI agent?
The chase and capture a man who was hiding on a fishing boat and growing eggs that would hatch kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. Yes, kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. You read that right, folks.
This is where it really gets bizarre, because eggs hatching kitties and puppies is obviously not bizarre enough. We were chasing after him on the boat. Two agents went upstairs on this boat, because for some reason this fishing boat was some kind of Mob fishing boat that was tricked out to resemble a dive diner. The upstairs of this boat was the living quarters. Myself and the other male agent, who was my partner, headed into the diner where we spotted the perp carrying the eggs in a wrap around his stomach. We decided to play it cool, get something to eat, watch him, and then at the safest and most opportune time, we would take him down. Therefore, we had to eat and pretend like we were dating, while we texted the other agents to have them come down. Once they made their way down, we took the guy down.
And this is where the dream passes bizarre. As we were taking him down, he pointed a water gun at me. This terrified me beyond possible belief, even though he didn’t shoot. I therefore did the most logical thing and shot him with my gun. This is when I realized my gun wasn’t loaded, which obviously meant someone was smart enough to not give me a loaded gun. The three shots I fired obviously did nothing, but the perp played dead anyway. That’s when my partner took the eggs and ran before the guy realized he wasn’t actually dead. It took three of us to arrest this guy who honestly believed he was dead and never tried to move. After we did so, we got him into local police custody and went after our agent who had the eggs. Why he took off with them instead of also giving them to the local police, I don’t remember. I think it had something to do with these eggs being some kind of super secret hybrids that Fort Detrick had been trying to detain. Apparently kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties, are that awesome that they must be kept top secret.
In terms of weird; this is where we fall right down the rabbit hole and bump out heads pretty hard, and then start hallucinating. The other agents and myself went after my partner, who, if you remember, had taken off with the eggs. We ran along the water line, back towards our hotel, only to find him just past the dock that went to our hotel, because naturally the hotel was in the middle of the water and you could only get there by crossing a dock. Said partner was being chased by a snake that walked like a hunched over human, but definitely had the head and body of a very large, thick, walking snake. We yelled to him and distracted the snake long enough for him to turn around and start back towards the hotel. As he was running towards us, we could see that the kitties and puppies were starting to hatch. Obviously, this was bad because the snake wanted to eat them. We ran quickly over the dock thinking we had one up on the human snake, but no, the snake could swim. It was neck and neck with us as we ran, but finally we got ahead of it and got into the main entrance of the hotel. We stopped to breathe only to find the snake had snuck into the side entrance. It was closing in on us quickly...
In terms of weird; this is now where we are beginning to wake up from the coma we had been put in from hitting our head after falling into the rabbit hole. Obviously medication is involved, so we’re still quite loopy. Just as we thought the snake had us for sure and we couldn’t shoot it because none of our guns are loaded, it started to talk. It had a male voice and it didn’t sound very threatening. And then it did something totally unreal. It took off my head and underneath it was...prepare yourself.
My sister.
Let’s recap, shall we? I don’t have a sister. I never have.
And now you’ve officially been introduced to my most personal and uncontrolled thoughts that I have when I enter the deep world of slumber. I don’t know if I should tell you you’re welcome, or apologize. So I’ll do both. You’re sorry. See, it’s a mix of both.
One thing you all do know about me is that I often watch odd and horrible television shows out of boredom. The harder the show sucks, the dumber it is, or especially if it’s a “scary” movie on Chiller or Sci-Fi, I am so there. This doesn’t exclude ridiculous reality shows either. To credit this, I must say I thoroughly enjoy “TRANSform Me” on VH1. Those biatches have some serious style. I hate it when transvestites are prettier than myself, a natural woman. I get more jealous of them than born women that are prettier than me. I think this is normal.
But that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the show Amazing Wedding Cakes. It doesn’t really fit into the above category, because it’s not an odd show, but it is a reality show. I, like a lot of women, am into the whole wedding show craze. I mean, I’m 24 with no boyfriend, but weddings still make me all giggly and fuzzy inside, so I watch.
I happened to come in late to watch Amazing Wedding Cakes the other night and missed the part where the bakeries interview the clients about what kind of cake they want. I came in, in the middle of a very gorgeous cake being made. The manager kept a close eye on the cake and made sure to reiterate to the employees that they really had to be careful to find the right balance of masculinity and femininity with this cake. I thought this was just amazingly sweet and such a great sign of a good, attentive owner, because no husband wants a girly cake and no woman wants to forget their husband when it comes to their wedding cake. I watched as they painstakingly hand made flowers out of fondant and added them, but not too many, and painted the decoration on the cake, but didn’t make it too masculine. When the thing was done, it was an absolute masterpiece. It was something both a man and woman would adore, and I had the ultimate appreciation for this specific bakery. Then they showed it at the wedding. The couple they had just painstakingly tried to find a balance of masculinity and femininity for?
Two gay men.
I am so confused. All I do know is that if I finally get tired of men and go lesbian, I’m definitely getting my cake there when I get married, that way I’ll know that my cake will have the right amount of masculinity for me and my wife.
For those of you who have not had to endure my texts, let me assure you that this is not an easy task. Most people send normal texts such as “what are you doing today,” and “how have you been?” I tend to send texts more along the lines of this:
“LMAO, so random. It’s like a breakup story and a country song what with him giving you your stuff back. Or should I say a country song in reverse.”
“You have no idea how badly I wanted to text your brother and be like, ‘SCRATCH AT THE WALLS!’ Good thing I don’t have his number.”
“I prefer ‘Evil Genius,’ but thanks.”
“Maybe it’s a lesboa. Maybe we have this lesboa thing all wrong.”
“You expect demons to do things pure evil from the bottom of their non existent hearts. Humans, not so much.”
“Other than buy the DVD and giggle the whole way home?”
“Darn. What if we do chalk outlines of lampposts and name them?”
These are actual texts that I sent to others. I realize those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile are familiar with my weird texting from the segments where I would post my actual texts on here, but I thought I would give you all a new dose of texts, because what you’re about to see takes my texting weirdness to a new level and you won’t be able to unsee it. Just a warning.
Oh, the name of this text was Backa Backa Backa. It got its name from the Sabrina the Teenage Witch where Aunt Zelda transforms into a monster for Sabrina's movie she is producing, and proceeds to walk across the camera saying "backa backa backa" to bookmark the scenes.
The story behind the text is, and yes, it’s so weird that I feel the need to explain it, is as follows: I woke up very sick in my stomach last night. I couldn’t fall back to sleep and needed something to do that didn’t require moving, so I turned on the television hoping to be entertained. I thought I fell asleep watching Criminal Minds on ION and then later got up and turned the TV off, but apparently I fell asleep watching something on Teen Nick, because when I turned the television on, I was immediately assaulted with a Justin Bieber video. The video was just beginning and I proceeded to be in shock as I watched it the whole way through. During this time several things occurred to me, prompting the following text.
But before I get into the text, let me just say that I have nothing against Justin Bieber, but he’s not my cup of tea. For those of you who don’t know who he is, he’s that boy that everyone always thinks is a girl when they hear him sing. Then, when you see him, he dresses like mess of a white boy, writes music that’s usually pointed at a far different age range and demographic, and tries to dance like Michael Jackson and fails. I feel he’s singing songs he knows nothing about at his age, and he’s part of everything that’s wrong with the music industry. I’m tired of people trying to act older than they are, while trying to appeal to a younger audience and coming across completely fake. I just think he’s faking who he really is to sell albums. And maybe he’s not, so if you like him, I am sorry. This is just how I feel when I hear his songs, or, as so happened last night, see his videos. Also, he’s sixteen and his voice hasn’t even begun to change. WTF is up with that, guys?
Anyway, onto the world’s oddest and longest text:
This is a list of things that I am now curious about after seeing a Justin Bieber video for the first time:
1. In the video, Justin is chasing his “first love” around. Do they really expect us to believe someone was actually in love with that little dude that wasn’t a gay boy? I call Justin Beiber is stalking said girl, thus why she is running.
2. How bankrupt is Ludacris that he both lent his “vocals” to the song and admitted it, as well as made his way into the music video?
3. How come people always hear Justin and think it’s Christina Aguilera. This must be a fluke, as not only am I personally insulted for Christina, but I’m also insulted as a woman. (Let's compare: Justin ... Christina.)
4. Do they really think it’s respectful to mock Michael Jackson by having some little white “dude” “dance” his moves? Dude can not dance and is basically just insulting himself and The King. This should be illegal. And since when is it okay for a 16 year old to do pelvic thrusts and grab his crotch, assuming he’s got anything to grab?
5. Is possible he’s related to Lady Gaga? No one’s proven her to be a woman yet, just as no one’s proven him to be a man, and at his age his voice should have at least started to change but hasn’t. Until proven otherwise, I remain insulted that someone like him could be a woman, but I won’t totally rule it out.
6. Who discovered him / thought giving him a career / thought giving him his own music video was a good idea?
7. Is that person, per say, a lifetime alcoholic with serious brain damage? (I'm sorry, you guys. I really am. I just think this kid has no business in the industry. There's so many talented people out there, and I'm not saying he's not talented, but there's just too many people who are eons more talented than him that should be out there. Do his albums even sell? Because I've yet to come across someone who likes him and doesn't make fun of him.)
8. Is he related to this person? After thinking this out further, I realize it’s highly doubtful his parents would resort to claiming their relation to him by putting him in the industry, before they would risk less humiliation by simply whoring themselves out on the streets if they were that in need of money.
9. Are we absolutely sure he’s not related to Lady Gaga? I often toy with the theory that there’s no way her parents watch her dance in videos wearing only pasties and are proud of her. More in the some, there’s no way Justin’s parents are proud he sounds like / looks like a lesbian willingly. They have to have the same parents if pride is possible.
10. Why didn’t I just change the channel?
On another note, I think Miranda Cosgrove is adorable. She sings songs that fit her look, her brand, and her age range. It appeals to her audience. Sure, her songs are a bit cheesy, but she knows what age range she’s playing to and what's appropriate for her age range, yet older people can like her too because she’s clean and herself. She has a long way to go as far as improving her technique, but her tone is absolutely gorgeous. I think there's a ton of potential there. I hope she continues to work on it and taps into all that potential. I want to see more Mirandas and Selena Gomezs and less of Justins. Please?
Tune in closer to Easter for a special presentation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
