It Might Not Be A Full Moon, But Pennsylvania Doesn't Know That

Saturday was the Smithsonian Free Museum Day. For those of you unfamiliar, this literally allows you to go to a Smithsonian Museum for free with a ticket you print off the internet. Of course this meant I spent the day at the museum. And nothing to the ranks of Night at the Museum happened. My mom has been dying to go for awhile, and I was dying to see some art and the revamped dinosaur exhibit, so we were so there.

The dinosaur exhibit, by the way, was awesome. It is one of the biggest in US, plus it has computer screens with each part of the exhibit that take you through all the skeletons in the exhibit that you might not otherwise see. For instance, some exhibits had little dinosaurs that were but a few inches tall in the trees and what not. I didn't take my camera, but I kind of wish I had.

In the exhibit, there was a full size flying dinosaur that was not a pterodactyl, but something similar looking. It had a big head and a little body. There were also two full sized tyrannosauruses, two full sized herbivores of which I would never be able to even begin to spell their names. There was something that looked like a velociraptor, a few little guys, and at least five other ones that I can think of off of the top of my head, but can't name the species of. It was insane. That's a lot of dinosaurs. Then there were several that were just the heads of dinosaurs. In total, there were somewhere around twenty dinosaurs in the exhibit, in bone form, of course. It was too awesome for words.

Or it would have been if I wasn't afraid of the dinosaurs. Hey, don't judge me! You'd be afraid, too, if you went to the museum with my mom. Every time we came up to a new dinosaur, she would say, "imagine what it would be like to see that coming at you." So naturally that's exactly what my mind imagined. It got uncomfortable a little fast. I realized that if I lived back in those times, I would have been a mighty easy lunch, but I would have went down screaming.

I did learn a few things from the exhibit, though. For one, I learned that dinosaurs are scary. Okay, just kidding. I already knew that. What I really learned about was the diets of different dinosaurs. This was mostly because my mom kept reading what each of them ate aloud. She should have been a tour guide. Everything was well and normal until she pointed out one that was both an omnivore and a herbivore. They were bimunchual. Get it? Bi-munch-ual. Like bisexual only dealing with eating habits, because when they eat they munch and they munched more than one thing.

Okay, I'm sorry for that.

From there the exhibit went into an area about prehistoric fish and birds, meaning there were skeletons from everything from prehistoric fish, to turtles, to, well, birds. After going through all of those skeletons, I decided I couldn't take any more excitement and I had to use the bathroom. In any other blog this wouldn't be a story. In this one it is definitely a story.

There were signs pointing to a bathroom. I followed the signs. When I got around the corner the signs went down some stairs. I went down a flight, turned another corner, and was lead down two more flights of stairs. When I got to the bottom of the stairs there was no sign of a restroom and I felt like I was in a J.R.R. Tolkien movie. It was a museum. I guess anything was possible.

Blinded by the fact that there were no signs, I went right, because it just seemed natural to go that way first. If this were a horror movie of life or death, I would have died a bloody, dramatic death. I came back out and came face to face with a restroom sign that couldn't be seen from the bottom of the stairs. The sign pointed outside. My first thought was, "oh no, uh uh." But then I had to pee so I followed it...out a set of doors and into an "entryway." I use entryway loosely, because if I went out the other set of doors, all the eye could see were steps leading upward from outside of the building, which really seemed counterproductive considering I had just gone down three flights of steps. However, in this entryway, stuck between both sets of doors, was a hallway. Down that hallway were the bathrooms. Wait, what? My thoughts exactly.

When I made it back from Center Earth, my mom was wandering around the bird exhibit. Now, I don't know how many of you know this, but I am absolutely terrified of birds. Except for penguins. Penguins are da bomb! I promise to never say that again, you guys.

Specifically, my mom was going through this flow chart on the wall that you followed by answering questions in order to find out what kind of bird you are. I'm a kiwi. Does this mean I can move to Australia now? I always wanted to go there. It's like it's fate. Because I'm totally not getting carried away or anything.

From the bird exhibit, we headed up the stairs and into the area that featured stuffed hide of wild animals from all over the world. There were habitats set up in enclosed glass cases of these hides in what would be their real life habitat. It was like the morgue version of the zoo. They had everything from camels, to zebras, to elk, to sea lions. It was one crazy floor of wonderment and fun. I also learned something here, too. To quote Brendon Urie, "Damn nature, you scary." Good lesson...good lesson.

We made our way through a nature art gallery where the artist admitted to photo-shopping his pictures, and landed ourselves in the hall of birds. Seriously, it was a hall of stuffed bird hides, which was different from the room of stuffed bird hides downstairs. Yeah, I don't get it either. Don't worry.

The particular winner of this exhibit, however, was the case of stuffed animals of favorite television characters like Tweety Bird with the stuffed hide of the real breed of that character next to it. As one of the ladies pointed out, if that doesn't give kids nightmares, nothing will. In an attempt to teach kids, I think it's possible the museum managed to terrify and scar them for life.

From there we toured Egypt with little excitement, and then ended up in an exhibit depicting Inuit life. It was completely fascinating. They even had a documentary about it, which I of course sat down and watched. The way this tribe lives is stunning. In school they teach the kids how to prepare an animal for food, taxidermy skills and other artisan like skills that you would never see taught most anywhere else.

The exhibit developed into marriage customs of cultures similar, as well as Native American cultures. In one culture, weddings took years to prepare, and days to carry out. The actual ceremony only consisted of the bride and groom having their hair washed together, but there was a slew of other things that had to be done with every single person in the family, even distant relatives, over the course of almost a week.

In another culture, women had one chance to go on a date with any suitors that were interested. During the date, the suitor and the women would walk around with a blanket over the two of them so that they could have quiet time and everyone knew they were dating. The other suitors, if there were any other suitors, they would follow behind in a line until it was their turn. The girl would then pick which suitor she wanted to marry, and if there was only one, she got him. It made me happy to be able to chose my mate, or decide if I want to chose one at all.

The art part of the museum was next. The first part of the art museum consisted of furniture from as far back as the 1400s. It was in this part of the museum that I learned something that probably not many other people learned. Apparently, dead people like their furniture. Instead of finding something better to do to bide their endless time, they hang out with their furniture to make sure no one touches it. I mean, do you know how much some of them paid for their beautifully ornate furniture back in the day when they had it made? Because I do. Seriously? You're dead. It's just furniture.

Up next was the art gallery. I was super excited to see some art. I was even more ecstatic when we got into the gallery and there were two Monet paintings on loan to the museum. One was about twenty feet wide by six feet high. Please do not ask me to name which ones they were, because neither were in English and I can see me murdering a whole culture's language in one go.

The true gem of the gallery, however, was the uber creepy guy who went around taking pictures of all the pictures with naked or shirtless women in them. Oh, and did I mention he was with a woman? Because he was, and he was a jerk to her. Maybe that's why he had to take pictures of naked women. It was probably the closest he was getting to any action.

What I learned from the art section of the museum was that dead painters don't generally hang around their paintings. They painted them to be shown off and are happy that they are fulfilling their purpose. Rich, eccentric people who paid a lot of money for their furniture, however, can't seem to leave it well enough alone. It's always good to learn an "other world" lesson while trolling a museum.

The last part of the museum was the Hall of Architecture. Or the Hall of Admissions, if you're my mom and read the sign wrong. This place was beyond spectacular. It boasted the biggest collection of ancient architectural casts in the world. They had everything from the entire front of a chapel, to parts of Notre Dame Cathedral, to parts of caskets. And no, the dead people did not hang around the cast of it. The size of these structures were unbelievable, leaving the chatter around the hall to wonderment of how they got the pieces into the museum in the first place.

We left the museum exhausted and ready to sleep for about a week. We don't get out much. Before we could head home, we had one more thing we had to do. About a half mile out of our way there was a salon that sells a certain product in which I had a coupon for. Normally one would check the hours online, go to said salon, and voila! They would have success. Have you read my blog? Because if you've read it, you already know this did not turn out like normal in any way. No, we didn't get lost. That would be too normal for us. In fact, we found the place and parking just fine. We made it to the front of the building and pulled on the door to find it was locked just fine, too. This is where things got a little dicey.

There was an intercom to side of the door. The door was glass, and when you looked in you could see that the only place this door led was up a flight up stairs. I had checked the website to this place prior to leaving the house and it said the salon was open until six that night and there was no sign on the door that contradicted that. So we rang the buzzer thinking that, because the only place the door led was a staircase, they had the buzzer there for a reason so they could control who came in and out. Only, no one responded to the buzzer.

I called the phone number on the storefront to try and find out what was going on. This is where normal goes right out the door. The conversation went nearly verbatim like this. All that's changed is that I attempted to make this lady more understandable than she actually was. She was a hot mess.

Me: "Hello, I was calling because I am at your salon and I was wondering how to get in. I tried the buzzer but no one answered."

Woman: "What! I don't get what you're saying."

Me: "I'm at your salon..."

Woman: "Are you outside of the salon?"

Me: "Yes, but it appears no one is here."

Woman: "Just come inside."

Me: "I can't. The door is locked."

Woman: "What location are you at?"

Me: "Point Breeze."

Woman: "Oh, I'm at the Mars location today."

Me: "I read on the website that this location was open today until 6."

Woman: "It is, but I'm the owner and I didn't feel like going in and opening that location today, so I just had the phone ring me here. But you can come to the Mars location." (I shit you not, this is what she told me.)

Me: "Bye."

Yep, I hung up on her. The two locations are almost two hours apart. I knew when she answered that it was going to be an interesting phone call, as I wasn't sure what it was that I was saying that she didn't understand. By the second sentence she spoke, I almost asked for someone else to speak to. Imagine my surprise when I found out she was the owner.

I was appalled by this woman, quite frankly. She shut down the salon because she simply didn't feel like "going in and opening that location today." It was a large place. How many appointments did she cancel, employees did she call off, and people's days did she change? If you're supposed to be open, you should be open. I understand family emergencies and what not happen, but this was not the case. I wonder how she even stays open. I'd rather lose the coupon than go back there and give her any of my money. Only in Pennsylvania.

And on a random side note, let's discuss something that has nothing to do with anything. I don't know how many of you have seen the show Ghost Adventures, but I'm openly afraid of Zak Bagans. That doesn't stop me from watching the show, however. It's not that I think Zak is particularly mean, but damn, he gets scary when he's yelling at all those dead people, and he's a big guy. I just would never want to meet him and risk ever getting in an argument with him. He strikes me as the type of guy who is more likely to protect someone than hurt them or cause a fight with them, but I'm still a little scared of him. Not because he's mean, just because I'm me. Yes, I know. I can be quite "special."

Ghost Gal - 1887

I'm going to start out this blog by stealing a line from Josh Gates. "I've seen some unexplainable things, and I've done some things I can't quite explain."

As promised, I am going to tell some real life ghost stories since Halloween is coming up. I know that some of you do not believe in such things, and I respect that. As such, I will always warn you at the beginning of the blog so you can flee happily without having your beliefs trampled on.

With that being said, let's get some mood lighting going, shall we?


I have been plagued by paranormal experiences my whole life. I've had so many things happen to me, in fact, that I can't remember most of them. It's become old hat. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the dead can quite literally be anywhere. It has nothing to do with the building that's there now, yet with the land the building is on. The land holds the history and the key to the past. Sometimes that past, unfortunately, is gruesome.

A few months back a friend of mine was looking to buy a house and contacted my mom. She had found a house she was interested in, but the house was not appraising for what it was being sold for, meaning she couldn't get the loan for it. It was a For Sale By Owner house and she sent my mom to do some research on the property and do a Realtor comparison value to try to figure out what was going on. Part of doing that is physically going to the house, so she packed me in the car one day and we both went.

As we drove, we ended up virtually in the middle of nowhere, taking us on a one lane back road with decrepit houses. We got lost about four times, and didn't even know the place we were at existed. The failure to appraise was becoming more and more obvious. Then the kicker came. We turned down a stone driveway, passed an old farm house that was nearly falling over, with people crawling around outside, dirty and homeless looking. We stopped to ask them if we had gone the wrong way, and they were fantastic people. It was obvious you couldn't ask for better neighbors, but the property value isn't appraised by the personality of the people, but by the looks of the surroundings.

We were going the right way, and continued a quarter mile past the house and came to the place she was interested in. It was gorgeous and completely private. The land sat atop a hill with no houses in the peripheral vision, except for those that could be looked out upon from atop the hill. The house was fully remodeled. The place would have been worth what they were asking, except for the little issue of location, location, location. The area it was in was not a bad area, but a remote area, lowering the property value to about half of the asking price. It was no wonder it wasn't appraising. Only, no matter how heavenly the house and land seemed, I wouldn't have given you a dollar for the place.

We hadn't gotten but fifty yards past the house with the fantastic neighbors when I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. As we got closer to the piece of land we were heading toward, I started to see blood. When we settled onto the land, it didn't take me long to ask my mom to get out of there and fast. Please keep in mind that I do not scare easily, and in this case that was also true. It wasn't fear that was taking over, but the gruesome sight in front of me.

I saw a woman and four children, all young and all looking like they got in a fight with an ax and lost. There was screaming and crying. It was pure panic. A massacre had taken place there. I couldn't get the images out of my head for weeks. I knew what I saw, as I saw it as clearly as I see what I am writing here. The pain, the fear and the panic surrounding the land were sickening. I could also feel a sixth person, but not see them.

I couldn't take the sight. It was obvious how badly they wanted help and wanted someone to notice them, but many were missing limbs and were bleeding about. I had never dealt with that much gore and I was terrified by what I was seeing. I just wanted to stop seeing it, so we left.

I decided to research the land, as I knew nothing about the area, to see if what I saw could be confirmed. I like to be able to have proof for what I am seeing, as I am, in myself, a natural born skeptic. Funny, right?

Upon some research on the land I uncovered something uncanny. In the late 1800's the town we were in was a mining town. The property the house was sitting on was part of a farm. The old, decrepit farmhouse with the awesome neighbors was once the main farmhouse for that land. The barn sat where the house my friend was looking at is today. Later, the land was sold in particles, but that's not important right now.

Some of the mines were forced to close as the turn of the century drew more near. A lot of miners were out of work. There was a lot of panic and a lot of sorrow. But on one night, one miner could take no more. He literally went crazy in more ways than one. Fear took over and began to believe he couldn't care for his family, so he picked up his ax and went after his wife and four children. As soon as the terror was apparent the family instantly ran, taking off for the barn in hopes of escaping the crazed man, a once loving husband and father. The man didn't catch up with them until they were near the barn, slaughtering them around and inside of the barn. The scene was a bloody mess of death and destruction, and when the miner woke up in the morning and realized what he had done, he took his own life. He was the sixth person I felt, but did not see.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Mostly all my stories are not gory, but are sad. Some are unexplainable. As I said, this was the first time I had dealt with such mass destruction and blood. This is also the only time. The next stories will deal with more interaction with the spirit and the like. Most of my stories have much more interaction than this one, and are unmistakable. They don't deal with what I've seen, but also experiences that I've had. In several cases, these are not experiences I've had alone. I have some great, all true stories to tell.

The "Women About the Town" Writer

I have a problem. Writing a novel has become so much more complicated than I thought. I know what you're all thinking; this is hard work. How could you not see this coming? The truth is that I knew it was hard work and I did see it coming, but not to this capacity. Here's why.

Some of you know this and some of you may not, but I spent around four years writing and posting stories on the internet. I would sometimes have four going at a time. It took me anywhere between a month and three months to finish one story, thirty chapters or more, ten pages or more each. Going into this novel I thought I would have the same kind of success, but I've had less success than ever. It took me awhile, but I've figured out the two reasons why.

One is genuinely because of my health. I get horrible migraines and the like, and sometimes I can't think past my nose. I feel like I'm in a haze and completely miserable. This can last days, sometimes a week or so. It's nearly impossible to write when you can't think, obviously. Also, I used to pick up one little thing from my day, something minute but abnormal, and work off of that. I would be excited to add it to my new chapter and rush home to do so after work, and then type into the wee hours of the morning happily. I have basically no social interaction now and am stuck with nothing but myself and my brain. Too much thinking about the same thing, and no breaks for a chance to live your life can hinder writing a novel.

The main reason for this, however, is that the stories I wrote online I wrote for fun. I stand behind all of them and have often thought about turning them into novels, because I already know the changes I'd have to make on them in order to do and can use them as a basic outline. In fact, I have one story that several people have requested I flip into a novel, but I'm finding that in a lot of the ways it is easier to already have a template to work off of, it's ten times harder when you get to a part you love, but you know you have to take out for novel purposes, and then I get frustrated. Namely, though, it's my connection to the characters and the way that they're part of me, and the things they go through are often events I've gone through, or parallel for relationships I've had. Quite simply, sometimes I wear myself out thinking about it, or it becomes too hard to write.

I tried to work on a story that had nothing to do with my life or anything I've gone through, but my writing suffered. It wasn't as heart felt, and although it was good, it wasn't up to the standards of what I know I can do. If I do this novel, it has to show all my talent and be full out everything. It can't just be good. I know that.

Then there's a rare issue that I'm not counting into the other two issues, because perhaps it isn't an issue at all. I have ADHD, which most of you know. I love it and it's what gives the quirk to my personality, but the other issue is that it can often allow you to come up with, fall in love with and be distracted by several ideas at once. I have over twenty stories started; closer to thirty, actually. And by started I mean there are more than five chapters done in each, all at least ten pages long each, and most have full outlines. These are stories I've been working on for years and have on the back burner. There's a few that I know definitely have to be flipped to novels, and it's the few that I keep flipping back and forth between, writing consistently for each of them. I want to focus on just one novel but I can't, and I feel like I need opinions and I'm not getting anything done. It's very frustrated.

Sometimes I even worry that I'm on the wrong path. I don't lose faith in what I'm writing, but I lose faith in if I know the kind of story that someone else would want to read. It's not that I'm writing for anyone else but me, but I also have to keep in mind that anything I write has to be something others would like in order to get a book deal, so I come up with ideas with that in mind. Of course, it's all stuff I want to write about anyway, so it works out for all of us. I just wonder what people would want to read, and then wonder why I wonder that because of the reviews and the fan base I've built with my online stories. There will always be people who like what I write and more that hate it, but that's normal.

Sometimes I maul over writing a book about my paranormal experiences. Truth be told, I could write that baby quicker than I could write a fictional novel, because I have so many experiences that I could tell without having to make anything up. In a way, writing about true life, instead of trying to make a story to tell it without actually telling it, is a lot easier. I know the "paranormal thing" is popular right now and that it would probably go over pretty okay. But the thing is, a lot of the stories I have to tell are personal to the people who I have seen, and not my stories to tell. I know these people have passed, but I still don't want to invade their privacy. Others are experiences that I can tell without the third party personal stories involved. Others, the spirit involved wouldn't care if I wrote about them. but still, I feel like they're not my stories to tell.

I could always do a fictional supernatural story, but that's a whole other issue. I've been working on a few supernatural things and a few "civil service" stories. One of my unique ones is both. My genre has always been aimed at fiction for women about the town in their late teens, early twenties and thirties. Women who are strong, independent, and don't need a man, but then there's a twist of romance that comes into the stories. I feel like most writers miss this age group, and when they do hit it, their stories are light, fluffy and don't have a lot of substance. I want to tell more real world stories, more true to life ones, and ones that other women my age can relate to. Both of these genres are total new territory for me, and working on the mind bender aspect is completely interesting to me and is making me think in new ways. Who knows, maybe I'll end up abandoning the stories I got known online for and go into new territory. I'm interested to see what my mind can do.

My mind is everywhere. Not finishing this novel is not an option. I will finish it, and truth be told, I was probably finish three or four to shop around right off the bat. I just feel so conflicted. I wonder when I became unable to write like a crazy mad woman like I used to. I guess it all goes back to not getting out of the house, not having a life, and spending my days with me, my brain, and all the time in the world to write. When it's all I have to do, it's harder to want to do it. When it's the treat at the end of my busy day, it's the thing I live for.

You can lead a horse to water, but the pencil must be lead.

In A Jar

I am going into this post blind, so to speak. I seriously have so much to share with you, stories from old blogs to repost, some good true ghost stories for Halloween and the like, that I don't even know where to start. I haven't had a lot of time to blog recently and I hope that changes. I love my friends on my blog and I love my blog, too. I know it's inanimate, but inanimate objects deserve some love. Just because they can't feel anything doesn't mean they won't now when you treat them with care and kindness. Oh wait...

I think I will start out by updating you on my health. The reason being that some of you know about what happened to me last week and some of you don't, but it's easier to explain it on here where my friends gather all at once than keep explaining it over and over. I'm too exhausted to do that.

I haven't been online much in the last few weeks; particularly the last week, so for those of you who don't know, I had a little incident last Sunday/Monday. I feel asleep fine, but woke up and couldn't breathe. When I was finally able to do that again, I went back to sleep only to wake up and start having heart problems. I felt like I had two heartbeats. I've had issues with my heart for a long time now and it rarely beats normally. It beats faster than it is supposed to, combined with arrhythmia plus a PFO. But I had never felt this before. Then my arm started to go numb, which also happens to me way too often. My first inclination was to go to the hospital, but every time I've done that I was sent away being told I had anxiety. This is one thing that really pisses my autoimmune doctor and general practitioner, as well as myself, off, because they know of my other issues and have proven time and time again that I do not suffer from anxiety. I can be as calm as can be, sleeping even, and have a bad attack. It was fine, as I didn't think I was going to die or anything, but I knew something was wrong. I just wanted to troop it out until my doctors appointment on Wednesday.

And I did troop it out. Luckily, as far as we can tell, nothing more serious than before is going on. She thinks it was a reaction to one of my medications that I had not had before. It's a med I take as needed and it's possible that this time it just didn't mesh well with my body. I've been fine in regards to my heart since, but I've felt like complete crap; more so than usual. I could just sleep and sleep and be fine with that. When I am up I feel like a zombie. I talked to my doctor about this as well, as this has been going on for almost a month, and she's referring me to another doctor. She thinks I'm having complex migraines, which is something we passed up in diagnoses because my blood disorder can cause migraines. However, I'm having a lot of neurological symptoms and have had MRIs done on my head and back, as well as MRAs and cat scans. There's nothing neurologically wrong. I will be seeing the doctor to discuss them in February, which was his first opening.

When you put it all together and stuff it in a jar, none of this matters because eventually the right test and right appointment will come along that will help us find out what's wrong. I've never lost hope on that, but what I did start to lose hope on was my work life. I am a busy body by nature and being sick has taken that from me physically, but not mentally, which is not good for my soul. I've kept hope that I will be going back to work soon. But it's been three years. A little spark of light came six months ago when my auto immune doctor gave me the go ahead to work, as long as I could lie down when needed and go home if I got sick, since I will get sick and drop to the floor with no notice. Somewhere in my mind I thought the work program for the state would find me something that I could do from home, or a job that would be possible, but instead I was basically told that there were so many people going through the work program without job restrictions that it wasn't worth bothering with me. It was all the same in the end because my doctor was really weary about me working, but trying to work with my insurance and state and what not so no one thought I was just trying to get out of work. And I was willing to work. I told my caseworker that if she found anything, anything at all that I WANTED it. One hundred percent, I wanted to work. I meant it. I still do.

However, the time has come where the decision has been made to put me on permanent disability. This rips me apart, and for those of you who know me, you know this. I can't imagine never working again. I genuinely like to work. Sure, working sucks in a lot of ways, but when you're not working you don't realize how much you felt productive when you do so. How much you enjoy earning your own money. How much you miss it. Call me crazy, but I miss it. I can't go my whole life without working. I will feel like a lonely piece of garbage left to rot. I feel like that now in so many ways. I need to work. I need to be a productive part of society. In my heart of hearts I'm keeping the faith that I'm going through this and this is happening for a reason. There's something better and unconventional that I'm supposed to do. I'm also telling myself that one day the decision can be revoked. I don't know how true that is, but I will tell myself that until the day die.

I will also continue to work on my novel and know that it is going slow because of my health, not because I don't want to write. There's many days where I will just blank out. This can sometimes go for a week at a time. I can't write. I can't make good conversation. Hell, I can barely think. I just want to sleep. I try to get up and go on with my day, but all that happens is I end up getting sick, passing out, giving myself a migraine, etc. It's hard for me to accept that I can't write a chapter a night anymore. Sometimes it takes me a month to write one chapter, but at least I know I am trying when I can. I also have a few great contenders for a novel that I've been going back and forth between, and honestly, I'm struggling with which one I want to make my first novel. I thought I knew, but the story became so personal that I've caused myself writers block on it. But it will be okay. I will persevere. As Dean on Supernatural would say, "I have a GED and a give em hell attitude." I hear that.

Speaking of jobs and working, I don't want you all to think that I've had such amazing jobs that I'm jaded to the world of work. I am not. Trust me when I tell you that I've had worse luck with jobs than probably ninety percent of the population. Since I didn't know what I was going to write going into this blog, it seems like now would be a good time to tell those stories. However, I have had great jobs that I did love. Some days at work are just going to suck, but that's what it's about and I miss it. Period.

When I was eighteen I was forced into my first job. My mom pulled a cute one on me and got me a car, and then made me go get a job to pay for it. It was really one of her better ones and was time I got a job, so I did. I worked for Payless Shoes. This was the job from hell, but not because it was my first job or the customers screamed a lot. It was and they did, but that's not why. Although I will take a moment to highlight some pretty special moments working there.

*On my first day of work ever I arrived with high hopes to be trained by the assistant manager. She promptly left me within my first five minutes there, not knowing how to use the register, where anything was, or what to do in general. She said her contact was bothering her and she had to drive home to fix it. This is why people usually carry a change of contacts, or their glasses, but I tried not to judge. I was still optimistic.

I tried to call the store manager but she had her cell off and refused to pick up her home phone. This all should have been a clue, but instead I called my grandma to come stay with me since, let me be honest, it was my first job and I was super nervous, especially after being home-schooled for four years with minimal interaction with others. I was painfully shy at one time, you guys. Plus, it was getting dark. She did come and I spent the four hours before the assistant manager slid in on the seat of her ass at closing time turning customers away and telling them I couldn't even begin to help them pick out shoes, far more ring them out. I hadn't even been given my code for the register yet. This girl just straight up split. And to be gone as long as she was, she obviously did more than change her contacts.

*This became a habit with this girl. Which was fine when I knew what I was doing, most of the time. The store was really never busy and there was no reason to have two of us there other than safety. Then one time she left to get lunch and didn't return for several hours. A wedding party came in to order custom dyed wedding shoes. I had only been there a few weeks and didn't even know we did that far more where to start. I called her and she promised she'd come back right away. She didn't, and after attempting to call the manager with the same results, the customers got very pissed, left, and then turned us into the company. The manager felt the need to tell us about it after getting reamed out by corporate, when really it was no one's fault but hers for not training me at all, ever, and the girl who I was working with for up and leaving. She should have been fired, but for some reason never was. Probably because she did her job and the manager's, too

*Another time the same girl went out to eat and came back with a new car several hours later. This incident is unrelated to the above.

*In yet another incident she went and got her nose pierced and also came back five hours later claiming that it got infected, but it is totally fine now. Yes, I'll believe that when I turn into a moron. If it was infected, that would not have cleared up in the matter of a few hours, and her nose looked as fine as it could considering she had just gotten it pierced. She also knew she wasn't allowed to have her nose pierced at Payless, and then got upset and threw several tantrums when she was forced to take it out and put in a clear piece for work, which later ended up in a real infection and the hole closing up in spite of changing out from the stud to the clear piece so many times a week right after getting it pierced.

*The manager never once even attempted to train me. Never. Ever. When I left there after six months, I still didn't know how to do several things because no one really cared to show me. It was the employees that were on the same pay rate as I was that taught me; not the manager or the assistant manager. Sad.

*I quickly learned the manager never picked up her phone no matter what. When she left work, she left. Which is great except she chose to take the job as a manager knowing it was the job. No one ever bothered her unless we had to, and still there was no response. She wouldn't apologize the next time she saw us even though she knew we called, as we would leave her messages. She acted like it never happened, except for one time. This will come in dandy soon when I reveal what made this job a thing of nightmares.

*One time the power went out. We searched the store high and low for a flashlight. The irony of searching for a flashlight in the dark back room is awesome. We couldn't find one, but it was fine because it was daylight and the whole front of the building was flanked in windows, so we could see enough to work. Except someone, and by someone I mean the manager, never ordered paper receipts so we had no way of checking anyone out. We knew if we just wrote things on paper, she would have a conniption because according to corporate that wasn't an acceptable receipt. Not being able to do anything, we locked the doors and tried to call her repeatedly. Surprise, we tried for an hour and she never picked up. We decided there was no way we were going to stand in a store with no power for the next three hours of our shift when the manager wouldn't even pick up. When she found out, she asked us why we even tried to call her and didn't just do that in the first place. Then she asked us why we didn't clock out. The obvious answer was we had no power and we had to clock out on a computer. This was the first and only time she ever acknowledged we had called her.

*I had been there maybe a month and a half or two months when I got a call from the manager. Apparently the alarm had been triggered and she wanted me to go back to the store and take care of it since I lived closer to the store than her. I didn't live that close; I had a fifteen to twenty minute drive. That's not that bad, but my problem was that I wasn't the manager. This wasn't my job. She was getting paid to take care of this stuff. I didn't even know what I would do when I got there. Obviously the place would be crawling with police and what not, and I just didn't know enough about the store to even begin to know what to tell them or how to deal with it, nor was I wasting my gas and going back there after ten at night. She got mad.

*This has nothing to do with the insanity of the manager and assistant manager, but this lady probably remains my most memorable customers. Maybe it was because this was the first time I had a psychotic customer, or maybe it's because this lady just had issues, but here goes. The lady came in right in the middle of a horrible snow at the end of January looking for boots. Naturally, we were sold out of her size. She got irate, and we apologized and went back to work. A few minutes later we hear her screaming, "I FOUND A PAIR AND I WANT THESE!" The lady had gone into the back room and pulled the pair she wanted out of the hold section. We could not sell them to her as they were already partially paid for. She stood there and insisted and screamed. The only thing I can't remember is how we got rid of her, but we did.

*Still not that bad of a job? I know, it could be worse, right? Everyone takes abuse from a slacker of a manager and an assistant manager that is never in the store when she's getting paid. The manager and assistant manager hated each other, by the way. Then something happened that I really thought only happened in movies.

I had been working there for six months when one night I was vacuuming ten minutes out from closing time, while the other woman I was working with stayed at the front counter in case someone came in. I finished vacuuming and put the vacuum away. Just as I got into the back room I heard the door buzzer going off, indicating we had a customer. I started out of the back room to try to assist my elderly coworker who worked two jobs and was tired, when something stopped me cold in my tracks. When coming out the door from the back room, you could see straight down the aisle to the side of one register. I saw a man with a ski mask on pointing a gun at my coworker. I am a quick thinker in bad situations, and realized nearly immediately that, because I had been vacuuming where I couldn't be seen by the windows for a good ten minutes, and the door buzzer went off after I was in the back. This person didn't know I was in the store. He thought my coworker was alone. I backed up quickly out of his sight and quietly waited for the door buzzer to go off again, indicating he had left. The last thing I wanted to do was go out there and surprise a man with a gun. I didn't know what else to do, but I thank God every day I didn't go out there, and my intuition and gut feel kicked in almost immediately. Always listen to your gut.

I gave it a few minutes so that I knew the person was really gone, then crept down the aisle slowly, looking outside little by little to make sure there were no cars in the very, very small parking lot. Once I knew the person was gone, I went out only to find my coworker on the floor. I said her name a few times. She cried and asked me if he was gone. He was. Apparently he had told her to go down on the floor and stay down for five minutes. All this for $400. I soon found out, however, that this guy got lucky. My coworker was counting money on the counter in front of the windows with the doors unlocked when this happened. At first we figured he just happened by and saw her doing this and used it as a crime of opportunity. He then went on to rob four more Payless Shoes, one twice, until he was caught. Anyway, that's not so important to the story. I just thought you all would want the ending to the robbery scandal of Payless. He was even called The Payless Shoe Bandit. How lame for him.

After the robbery we called the police. The alarm wasn't tripped on the register because the coworker had removed the money herself and set it so that alarm wouldn't go off. Had he robbed the register and she wouldn't have had the money out, they may have caught him in the act since the police barracks were right down the road. I am also thankful this did not happen because who knows what a gun wielding man backed into a corner would have done. This is a situation that could have ended so badly, but luckily, by the grace of God and a lot of luck, did not. We were both safe.

We then tried to call the manager. The police tried to call her. Nothing. She didn't work the following day either and no one could get a hold of her. It was two days until she knew about the robbery. She never asked if we were okay. We sat that night for three hours filling out statements and interviewing the police. The coworker went through hell, as the police thought she was involved because she had admitted to counting the money in plain view of the parking lot. Then, when the manager didn't get back to the police for two days, they suspected her. It was a huge mess. The coworker who had the gun held to her quit, obviously. I, too, followed right behind her. I may have stuck it out figuring it was a one time thing, but my final straw came the day after the manager found out; the next time I saw her.

I went into work for my next shift, only to be paired with her. She mentioned the robbery, but didn't seem to care all that much about us or the fact it happened. She only reason she mentioned it was to tell me the other coworker quit and now she was going to have to find her replacement. She was annoyed. Then she asked me why I didn't push the alarm button to summon the police in the back room. Oh, I don't know, maybe because in the six months I was there, no one had told me there was one back there. It didn't take me long to realize that I did not want to work there; not when the manager didn't even care that, with any simple variation of events, we could have been killed. When the police finally did catch him, they confirmed he had been carrying a loaded gun. I never went back and two other employees, upon finding out about the situation, followed out behind me, leaving her and the assistant manager to hash it out. I've never once felt bad about this.

It was another job I had that tops this experience, though. It wasn't so much with the job itself, or the manager. I loved the manager. I really didn't mind the job so much even though I got yelled at by people often, as it was a UPS Store and people apparently assumed you could get your package somewhere not only in a few hours, but for a few bucks. I liked the people I worked with, too. What I didn't like resulted in the place crawling with police...again. Let's count it, people. This will be the second time in three and a half years that police swarmed the place I worked, however, this time was much more dangerous, and I knew I had an angel at my side after the sum of both experiences.

I worked with a pregnant girl. A dear, sweet, wonderful pregnant girl. She was in her twenties and had just found out she was pregnant. She was happy, however her boyfriend had become abusive and was scaring her. She left him and didn't look back. Things were fine and she was fine on her own and excited for the baby. We were checking out customers when she got a telephone call on the work number from her brother saying the ex had showed up at her house, where she and her brother both lived, looking for her and threatening to harm her when he found her. He was headed to the place of work next.

As I said before, I am a good and calm, quick thinker in the face of danger. I freak out later. I picked up the phone and called the cops, explaining the situation. They told us there was nothing they could do until he was physically there and threatening us. Awesome. That was okay, though. There wasn't a lot he could do with a store full of people. And then, just as quickly as the people came, they overheard part of my call, since there was nowhere in the store I could take it and left. It felt a lot like the apocalypse had come and wiped everyone out. As luck had it, the store beside us was closed due to a family emergency, and we were otherwise isolated except for the pawn shop across the parking lot. They couldn't see in the store, though, because the windows pointing that way were covered with those stupid advertising posters. Companies, take note, these things are dangerous.

I was going to slide out and get the owner of the pawn shop, who was a nice, albeit scary looking guy who told us if we ever needed anything to come get him. Just as I was about to do that, a customer came in. I waited on him, trying to do it as slowly as possible. After a few minutes, he left. He was barely out the door when my coworker started screaming that she saw his car pulling into the parking lot, and then locked herself in the bathroom. It was fine. I had this handled.

Her boyfriend came flying in with a long jacket on in the ninety degree heat, and his hand in the jacket. Instantly I knew something was wrong and we had a problem. This was going to get ugly. He starts screaming at me, asking me where she is. I told him she had left. He pressed out about her car still being there, and I simply told him that her brother had come and got her after he had showed up at her house, figuring that information would prove to him that it really happened, since I'd have no other way to know he was at her house. But that didn't appease him at all. He got more angry and more violent. I started to step back when in steps the last customer we had. Part of me thought "thank God," and another was scared that something was going to happen since this guy was walking in on an angry man with his hand in his jacket. But this guy was good. Instead of saying he had an issue with his previous trip in there, he looked right at her boyfriend and asked him what was going on. He turned and started to flee when the guy grabbed and detained him while I called the police.

After the police got there and took him into custody, the guy got my coworker out of the bathroom and asked us if we were okay. Then he told us that he was actually a cop turned CSI who had just gotten off duty and came here. He was leaving when he saw her boyfriend pull in at top speed and knew in his gut something was wrong. He nonchalantly walked down the sidewalk and passed the boyfriend, and noticed he had a jacket on and knew something was going on in this kind of heat. He stood by one of the windows further over that wasn't covered and watched for a few minutes where neither of us noticed him to see what was going on, and thought about how he was going to handle it and then came in.

After a much to do where he talked to the police and lots of insane things happened, he came back to talk to me, while the cops questioned my coworker. He never would tell me if they recovered a gun off of the boyfriend directly, but in so many words, he basically told me that was what he was hiding in his jacket, which I had figured all along. If that guy had not known something was wrong and watched the situation for the right moment to diffuse it, I honestly don't know what would have happened. But as frightened as I was and from what I know in my gut, neither she nor I would have made it out of there that day. It was by total happenstance that he was there at that very moment, and as far as I'm concerned, it's quite possible he saved our lives.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I know he ruined her car pretty badly while the ex cop/CSI had him outside trying to detain him, but unable to completely without handcuffs. All he could get him to do was not leave until the police got there by taking his keys when he ushered him out. He also kept him from coming back in. Where we were, there was nowhere to run to unless he ran toward the police station, so he was stuck. Luckily the boyfriend only took it out on her car and not on the ex cop, but the ex cop/current CSI was far bigger than him and I think he knew better.

My coworker was fired for "causing trouble at work." This pissed me off because it was in no way her fault. She was the victim. I decided this time that I would keep the job and not quit like I did when the robber was going around Payless with a gun. Fate must have known better, because not even a week later I had a 120lb pound box come down on my foot. When my boss refused to follow my doctor's orders of having me sit when I worked and scheduled me alone in a place where boxes had to be moved just to process each order, I was forced by doctor's orders to quit working there.

From what I understand, the coworker moved far away, and when the boyfriend discovered this he proceeded to harass the store looking for her. I believe he is in prison now, but I'm not positive on that. I am thankful, however, that I did get out of there because I heard his constant harassing of the store was pretty intense, and I was scared of the guy for good reason. If I never see him again, it would be too soon.

On second thought, maybe the angels were sick of the crazy crap that happened to me at work and this is someone's way of telling me that I'm just not meant to work without guns involved. And since I never worked in a police station, this would be considered a bad thing.

Life Imitating Chuck Palahniuk Novels

It's that time of the year again. It's the time when the VMAs have come and gone. So let's talk VMA's just like we did last year.

Uh, psych. I actually have nothing to say about the VMAs. They were very ho-hum and not at all drama filled. I mean, I'm glad Taylor Swift didn't get Kanyed again and Lady Gaga didn't do any inappropriate performances, but was it necessary to make everyone act like perfect normal human beings who don't think bat-shit crazy things, and do ridiculous things with their money? I watch the VMAs expecting something ridiculous to happen. When it doesn't, I have to admit, I'm a little bummed.

To counteract being bummed out, I shall tell you all a story involving Aunt Bev and coupons. Actually, I'm going to tell you two stories, although that could make one really great story. Don't you think? Aunt Bev, this is my shout out to you. If you ever take coupons to the store and some kind of non-embarrassing debauchery occurs, please let me know so that I can share with the world. I mean, if you want me to, of course.

In the last post I mentioned that Aunt Bev had found some super awesome kittens and adopted them. Just to follow up, she did catch the mommy and momma kitty is trying to settle in but is being a little temperamental. I promise to keep you updated, but momma kitty has nothing to do with this story. Sorry, momma kitty.

Last week when Aunt Bev only had the babies and we were visiting, she started telling us about how she was watching Animal Planet and saw the cutest guy on there who was intelligent and seemed sweet, too. She said she thought he would be perfect for me. I was flattered. At least I thought I was, because I had no idea who she was talking about and he was on TV, but I trusted her. Then she said she scoured his hand for a ring to make sure he wasn't married and he didn't have one. See? He was perfect for me!

I completely loved this because it was so Aunt Bev in the best way possible. She saw a guy, thought he was perfect for me and checked for a ring, which is really all I can ask for in a super awesome aunt. The only problem was that he was on TV and I'd never meet him. Semantics, I know. (Or, if you're Shawn Spencer, you can add that "I don't think semantics means what I thought it meant." Which is exactly why I chose to use that exact word here, because I, too, used to think that word fit in here until Shawn used it in a way that seemed correct, but was not. Shawn Spencer, teaching people the actual meaning of words since 2006. Don't steal that slogan, USA. I have my eye on you. Well, eyes. I have two.) But the thought was there, even though I wondered why she would check someone on TV for a ring just to make sure he was available for me. At this rate, I should be married by the time I'm ninety, which is, quite frankly, earlier than I saw coming, so I won't hate it.

Then the other night happened. Do you see where this is going? Nowhere good.

The other night I was watching television. Television at two am is either the most bizarrely interesting thing ever, or completely and mind numbingly boring depending on the night. There is no in between. For those of you who know me, you know I'm a night owl, often not because I want to be up that late, but because I don't feel well and can't sleep. This is awesome on the nights where television is mind numbingly boring and I often have to settle for a rerun, or lying in the dark thinking about how I don't feel well. Obviously, the rerun always wins.

Because television seemed to be specifically sucky the other night, I settled for a rerun of Fact or Faked: Paranormal Files. Normally I wouldn't consider this settling, but seeing as I had just seen the episode a few weeks ago and remembered the whole thing with cunning perspective, watching it again in hopes that something interesting would happen that I forgot about was done in vain. This should be an otherwise boring story that is heading on the route to nowhere.

Except that I find the one guy, Austin, super adorable for reasons I can't explain; all that have to do with the personality he conveys on the show, and I started to wonder if he was married. I also started to wonder why he reminded me of Pete Wentz, but that's another story entirely. Naturally, I started looking to see if he was wearing a ring. Out of mindless curiosity, of course. I did this for a good full minute until I realized what I was doing. That didn't mean I didn't stop checking until I knew the answer; he didn't, but I suddenly understood how something so seemingly innocent can turn into a slightly creepy story that you put on your blog. So, Aunt Bev, don't feel weird that you checked Animal Planet guy for me to see if he had a ring. I apparently do that just fine checking out stars of unscripted shows that I will never meet myself and you were just trying to help. I get it now.

Don't look at me that way, you all. Think back on your unscripted television crush and don't tell me you haven't done the same. Uh huh, now that you're thinking about it you realize you either looked for a ring, or Googled to see if they were attached, didn't you? At least I didn't Google. I wouldn't want to seem creepy for the guy I don't know and am never going to meet. That would just be absurd.

What's also absurd is that I became the customer from hell today at Target, and I'm not even entirely sure it was my fault. But I ask you to picture this for me. I innocently went to Target with almost forty dollars worth of coupons and purchased everything I had a coupon for. There's no way that can go wrong or I can end up being a pain in the ass customer to the ranks of the old lady who only pays in pennies; ones of which she doesn't count until she gets to the register and gets her total. When I get to the register, I bring the kind of problems that require three cashiers and a manager.

Everything was going well and good until the cashier went to put the coupons in. The first one wouldn't scan so she had to type it in. When she did, it came up that I didn't purchase that product. I knew that I did so she set it aside and went on with the other coupons while I found the product. Only, she didn't actually go on with the other coupons because she got the same response for them, too. Immediately even she realized this was suspicious because she remembered some of the stuff I had gotten and knew the coupons were correct. She started scrolling up and checking things out again only to realize that the things I bought were on there for the correct price, only they were listed under a different brand.

For instance, I got a can of Friskies can food for cats that I had a free coupon for. I knew the can cost $.60 because I am careful to make sure what I pick up doesn't go over the alloted limit on the coupon. Scanned in the register was a can of Purina cat food for $.60. It was like this with nearly everything. Naturally, this is why the coupons weren't going through. The brand the coupon was for was exactly what I bought, but not what was showing up in the register.

This is when two other cashiers and a manager got involved and took me to another register. They had to go through everything one by one and physically change everything in the register. I spent about forty minutes in the checkout line, and although this wasn't my fault, it made me the customer from hell by default. Then they went to put in the coupons and more wouldn't scan than would, which is kind of my fault because I printed them out on paper that had already been used on the back and I surmise that it interfered with the bar code. But in my defense, I didn't realize it would and I promise to try not to do it again, although I will probably do it at least once on accident because I forgot to check what paper was in the printer.

I feel like this is where I should have a Chuck Palahniuk moment and say "Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God." And I'd also like to add, "Sorry, other people in line. Sorry, cashiers."

Peek-A-Kitty

In yesterday's post I mentioned that I had really exciting news about something that happened on Labor Day involving Aunt Bev, my mom and myself. I promised that as soon as I got some pictures, I would post them on here and reveal said news.Well, get ready to say a lot of "oohs" and "awws," because the time for the special surprise is now.

On Monday my mom and I were lazily lying around debating why television sucked so badly, and why the only marathon we could find to watch, which was Destination Truth, had to go off. Just when we thought the day couldn't get more boring, Aunt Bev called with the following story.

She had been feeding a little kitty that looked as if it belonged to someone and had been thrown out. In doing this, she ended up finding baby kittens inside of her shrubbery in the front of her house. They were too small to take off on their own, but she knew soon enough they would be, and since she lives on a busy street she didn't want them to grow up, go out on their own, and get hurt. She asked us if we would come and help her catch them. We will pretty much stop anything for kittens, and we weren't doing anything anyway, so we were there before she could say please. Which she did say, by the way. She also thanked us, in case you were wondering.

For those of you who don't know, Aunt Bev is a kitty lover. Her husband was allergic to kitties so she couldn't have her own. Since he's been gone she has been talking about getting another kitty, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to do so, or what she wanted to do. The kitties found her. It was fate, and they could not have been born into a better yard for a better person to find. It was the case of little kitties who needed a friend, mixed with an awesome woman who needed some kitty friends.

She had told us that there were three kittens living in her shrubbery. When we got there we went around to where she had told us the kittens were, only to have her pop out from around the house with this little guy or gal. We don't know the sexes of any of them because they are too young. Because of this, they also don't have names, so please bear with me.

After we collected the kitties I went home and brought over some toys for her kittens. This is this little kitties' new best friend. Kitty just loves its fishy. Kitty also loves to look straight into the camera. See?

The next little bugger that we pulled out was this little one.

At first we couldn't find any of the other kittens, but then I got into the shrubbery and bent down. I thought I saw something moving in one of the bushes so I started to move the bushes only to hear a pfft sound. I think the pfft was the kittens trying their best to mortify us into getting away from them. We got them anyway, obviously. And this kitty moved right on into the house, like the others one did. This one just likes Aunt Bev's leg a little more than the other ones.

The third and last kitty we pulled out was this little white one with the orange around the face. Kitty was feisty and was the one who was going pfft. That sounds dirty, I know, but I promise it's a kitten and it is not.

Because kitty wanted to sleep the entire time I was taking pictures today, this is the only picture I got of this kitty outside of the box. It was a little grainy because I didn't want to use the flash on its little eyes. They were all a little grainy, so I played around with photoshop in hopes of making them all look old fashioned.

We had all the kitties but the mommy kitty, so we decided to put the food back where she and her kitties were living so that we could hopefully catch her. I grabbed the food and crawled into the bushes only to find this little kitty crawling into the small open area where the food was, confused. We all were convinced there were only three kitties, so we were shocked. And as it turns out, this little kitty was the runt and owns my heart completely.

As soon as I got this kitty into my arms and onto the back porch where we inspected them to make sure they were healthy, it crawled inside my sweatshirt and went to sleep. I could have literally snuck the kitty home in my sweatshirt. Don't think I didn't think about it.

I like the call the following photo this kitty's baby photo. It just reminds me of the old fashion baby photos from the thirties.

All four kitties are resting comfortably with toys, food, warmth and beds inside of Aunt Bev's house. They've been doted over and hugged over the last three days and totally own Aunt Bev and everyone else's hearts. In fact, her brother of whom she can never get a hold of and barely ever sees because he never calls anyone back, came over and spend almost four hours with them yesterday. Ah, kitties; bringing families together since forever.

Aunt Bev went and got a safety trap so she can catch mommy kitty and adopt her, too. I will keep you all updated on that situation.

Also, my very own resident kitty, Paramore Wednesday, says hi. And by says hi I mean she is biting my arm while I am typing this. That's as good as saying hi to me.

Coupons, Fall and Bobcats

This is still not the post I wanted to write with the stories I wanted to tell, but I've been so busy over the weekend that I think that made a story in itself. I will make it kind of short and not so detailed, so hold on to your hats and follow along. Why do I feel like this is going somewhere along the lines of Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam sing-along version?

By the way, am I the only one who watched that and was genuinely shocked that it was worse than the first because I didn't think that could happen? Oh Disney, you've failed me and I even like the cast. Yes, I said I liked the Jo-Bros...as actors. If they didn't sing, I would like them more. I do watch their show. But this is getting way off topic.

This weekend I learned several things about myself, none earth shattering. One is that I am a ninety year old lady in a twenty four year olds body. This is no offense to ninety year old ladies, but I think I could give them a run for their money when it comes to having coupons, ordering free samples and counting change. I did all of these things neurotically on Friday. But it didn't start on Friday. Oh no, it started Monday when I got the mail and there were magazines featuring Labor Day sales and certain stores. I sat for an hour, went through all my coupons, circled the corresponding stuff that was on sale and I had coupons for, and then acted out my plan on Friday. If that doesn't get me into the Red Hat Society, I don't know what will.

We came home with a ridiculous amount of stuff for the animals. Six bags of cat food pretty much says a lot about our household. Seven bags of dog treats does, too. And what did we get for ourselves, you ask? Three bags of groceries. Uh huh. I always wondered who had time to do things like this. The answer is apparently me. Then I came home and cleaned. Rock star life, let me tell you.

For those of you who missed the most exciting part of our day involving someone who couldn't park, would be post it notes and my Aunt that never matches, please see my previous post.

I would also like to let you all know that I have a bunch of coupons for free stuff at various places in the mall that are good for the next three days. Everything is people stuff and you can bet I will be doing a mall crawl only for said free stuff. A life may be needed because I am enjoying this way too much.

Another thing I am enjoying is ranting about and rating hot guys on television. Clearly this means I need a boyfriend, or more guy interaction, especially considering there isn't an abundance of said boys on television. Sorry boys. When it hits the point where the best you've got is rating guys on television, you know you have a problem. Which I do. I just don't know how to fix it and I'm not really dazzled by any guy I've met. It's easier to be dazzled by the people on television. They're not real. They can be what you want. And others are just adorable on their own. I could get into a whole other rant and name names, but I shall refrain. That would be creepy, now wouldn't it?

Saturday I had the house all to myself. I decided to be Little Miss Suzie Homemaker and decorate for fall. In case you all don't know, I love fall. If fall were a boy, I would marry fall in an instant and never look back. The ceremony would be gorgeous, taking place in a sprawling field where the leaves were changing and pumpkins aligned the aisle way. Ah, what can never be.

Anyway, I don't know what fall decorating is like for all of you, but we have more fall stuff than we do everyday stuff, so it becomes a bit of a decorating marathon that requires unpacking tons of boxes, putting tons of other stuff away, cleaning and getting rid of those God awful Styrofoam pieces after pulling the breakables out of their boxes. Or, as my mom likes to spell it, breakabowls. Good try.

Our house is now looking fall-licious, but I was, for the lack of a better word, pooped when the day was done. I love out fall stuff, though. It's adorning everything. Well, it and Brendon the fish who lives in the living room because we felt my bedroom was too secluded for him since he is a beta and he lives alone anyway. Longest run-on sentence ever. There he lies right smack dab in the middle of all the fall stuff. It's a little awkward since he's red and blue; very patriotic, but we appreciate his presence.

I also got two free samples in the mail that day, which pretty much made my week. This is what I've come to; checking the mailbox consistently for free samples. I like free. I like samples. Win.

Sunday Aunt Bev and I went to a craft festival at the local fairgrounds while my mom worked. She was none to happy about this. It was a pretty eventful day, which I'm sure shocks all of you since I've told many Aunt Bev stories on the blog. Let me just highlight a few things.

* Going into the festival there were signs posted everywhere that the only male cashier, Chris, was celebrating his birthday on the same day he had to work. We, coincidentally, got in his line. Aunt Bev asked him if he was Chris. He said maybe and shied away. We gleefully wished him a happy birthday. He seemed delighted.

* The craft festival is supposed to be some kind of colonial festival, which it isn't, but they still request the vendors dress like it is. Therefore, we got to witness a Chinese man dressed in American colonial clothing. He was two different cliches in one. Aunt Bev was talking to me and I literally stopped listening for a second because I was so distracted by this guy. It was awesome. We decided he was the Pennsylvania version of the Chinese guy in the Scottish kilt in one of the Starburst commercials. At least we think he was Chinese. Sorry if we offended a whole culture.

* We tried to buy my mom nuts so she didn't feel left out. Every time we wanted to talk about the nuts, we did so in the most inappropriate sounding way possible and then laughed, which led to a story about balls, naturally. Aunt Bev was at another festival where they were selling honey balls, but you could get your balls without honey. The balls were basically dough balls. A college kid was ordering his balls and instantly Aunt Bev perked up her ears knowing it was going to go wrong. The cashier asked the college kid if he wanted honey on his balls. He turned around and said to his friends, "Did you hear that? She just asked me if I wanted honey on my balls. I think she's getting fresh with me." Aunt Bev laughed, and then we both laughed when she told me the story. We are so mature. You can't deny it.

* While we were there we were asked to all quiet down and stand still. This was odd. And then they called the first aid team to gate two. We were still told to stand still and be quiet. This was even odder. We all stood around for a few and wondered what happened, and then a few minutes later Aunt Bev and I were walking and happened to see a large cat in the back of a white van in a cage. We thought maybe it was just part of one of the shows they had going on, until we got closer and saw that it was a bobcat in an animal control van. We're assuming that's what happened at gate two and they tried to get us to stand still and called a medical emergency as not to panic anyone and have an incident. Bobcats don't normally attack anything larger than a small cat unless they are scared. Ironic, I know. For those of you that don't know quite how out in the boonies we live, a bobcat wandering into a state fairgrounds during a festival should give you some idea.

* I made the poor decision of stopping to listen to what some guy had to say about his book. This was a mistake. This guy pretty much told me his entire book so that I didn't have to buy it. I couldn't get away from him and Aunt Bev left. She later apologized and said she knew that guy would suck us in and we'd never get away. This worked out well, though, because I look younger than I am, so I just used the excuse that I couldn't be separated from my Aunt once I could get a word in...ten minutes later, and then I took off.

* There were lots of free sample all over the fairgrounds, but my favorite was the fudge samples. While we were waiting for our fudge, one gentleman with a hat said the fudge was so good he was going to have to keep coming back for his free samples. I told him to start putting his hat on backwards and come back. Next time he should take it off and come back. It kind of went from there and I still wonder if he tried it and if it worked. If not, we still got a good laugh out of it.

* Aunt Bev got her new car and we had a hard time finding it in the field that they call a parking lot. Seriously, every car is a silver-white. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Of course, Dr. Reid from Criminal Minds seems to think that a needle would stick out in a haystack, so your better analogy is "it's like looking for specific needle in a pile of needles." Then he'd laugh about it. Why does he have to go and ruin all the good analogies?

* Aunt Bev bought me an early birthday present. It's a vintage looking necklace that is so me. I'm not big on wearing jewelry because I can never find anything that is me. This necklace is. As soon as I get a chance I'm going to take some pictures in my vintage clothing with my amazing new necklace and post them on Just A Vintage Girl. I can't wait!

* We walked the whole fairgrounds and lazily looked for hot guys. The hottest guy ended up being the security guard on our way out, who was in a dead heat with Chris on the way in. We weren't thrilled with either, but it was kind of ironic that the hottest people there were the ones at the gate. If we were just going to look at hot guys, we could have gone no further than the entrance / exit.

* Afterwords we went out to eat. There's no big story here except we got sat right up against a party of fifteen. These people were the quietest group of fifteen in the entire universe. This is not an exaggeration. I mean, they were talking amongst themselves, but were in no way disruptive. I wanted to hug them and compliment them. I refrained because I thought it was weird and didn't really want to be labeled a perv or anything.

* While we were at the restaurant, we also saw a kid around my age playing with a little girl that wasn't his; it was his friends' who he was with. He just loved that little girl like she was his own and he was cute, too. Aunt Bev and I are wondering where we can get one of him each. I am wondering why I didn't talk to him. Ah, shyness, you never, ever fail me. Damn you! Take a vacation, why don't you?

Yesterday was compounded of all kinds of awesome because there was a big surprise waiting for Aunt Bev, my mom and myself. I can't tell you all the big surprise just yet. Tomorrow I will be taking pictures of the big surprise, and then I will update with the cute little story and the pictures as soon as I get a chance after that. I also have some great pictures of Greta Hayley sleeping with a stuffed animal for "Greta Hayley Say." Stay tuned. It's going to get fun!

The Parking Score Conundrum

Holy, you guys, I know I've been pretty MIA. I do have a lot to say, just no time to say it; or type it, as the case may be. To keep this blog alive with minimal life support, I am going to tell you all just a quick story for the day. You can thank Aunt Bev for this one because she says I have the weirdest things happen to me and the most awesome stories, so I should post this one.

Yesterday I was at Wal-Mart with my mom. We parked near Lawn and Garden and got out of the car only for me to turn around and look slightly to my left. There was a little red car taking up two precious parking spaces in the conundrum that is a Wal-Mart parking lot.

For those of you who don't know, this is why I keep sticky notes in my purse. I always want to write "parking fail" or "parking score: minus ten" on one and then slap it on the car, but never have. As I was standing there wondering why I carry the sticky notes but never use them, and pondering if I should do it this time, I got my answer.

As I was looking to my left, my mom was looking to the right and noticed our cousin Randy and my Great-Aunt Sarah, Randy's mom, coming down the parking lot. My eyes merged my mom's way as hers merged mine. Yep, you guessed it, they were the two-for offenders. If you knew Randy, the driver, this would explain a lot and you would not at all be shocked by this.

Just a quick story about Randy. Randy is an interesting in the odd way person, but a nice person. However, he is so interesting that Aunt Sarah calls him Ranny. He's in his late fifties and never left home, nor has he ever paid bills or rent, but he does work. He even dropped Aunt Sarah off at my grandma's funeral, but he left. His dad was my grandpap's brother, so they knew each other fairly well. He just didn't feel like hanging out with dead people, I guess. We still like him anyway. That's just simply Ranny.

Anyway, as my mom and I are trying not to laugh considering I had loudly explained how I was debating sticky noting the parking fail car, I decided to bite the bullet and run over to Aunt Sarah to say hi. Honestly, I hadn't seen her since my grandma's funeral, and had called her to go out to eat with us, but she didn't call back. She's in her late eighties and a lot of times she either listens to messages on her machine and doesn't write down what they were and forgets, or, my favorite, she just never bothers to listen to them or deal with them. Period. I love her.

A few things you have to understand about Aunt Sarah are that she is one of the kindest, sweetest people in the world. She has nothing bad to say about anyone or anything ever. I've never heard her say anything mean or sarcastic. I once spent three full days with this woman when we took her on a weekend trip and nothing. Literally the meanest thing she has ever said was regarding a guy who didn't treat me right. Her comment was "you just say hello and goodbye to those people." Yep, that's really as mean as she gets.

Two, she's hysterical without trying to be. I think this goes with the first part, because she's nice when she shouldn't be and tries to be oblivious. To compare her to a character you all may be familiar with, she is the Jamie Sullivan from A Walk to Remember of real life. There is not one thing to not like about Aunt Sarah. We knew when she didn't call us back that it wasn't because she hated us so much as she just did something silly. We knew we were going to get a chuckle out of her when we heard the story. We did.

Three, she is going a little senile, I think. But for goodness sake, she is in her late eighties and allowed. For as long as I can remember, Aunt Sarah has worn pantsuits. And as Betty White's character, Elka, would say on Hot In Cleveland, "when you're in your eighties you dress for the bathroom." I can appreciate it and have no issues whatsoever with the pantsuit aspect of her day wear. It's the senile part that concerns me.

You see, Aunt Sarah thinks she has matching pantsuits. She does not. Not a one. And if, by chance, she does, I have never seen one. The ones she does have are really close to matching, so close that it hurts, but yet they don't match, which ends up being so much funnier than if they just didn't match in the least. For instance, she had on a dark blue pair of pants with white flowers on them, and then a dark blue top on that was about two shades lighter than the pants, and had white hearts on it. The hearts and flowers were the same size and the colors were similar, but no dice.

I think the saddest thing about this is that Ranny never tells her this before she leaves the house. He never once says she doesn't match, because if he did, she would surely change. She is a well respected woman and it's in her nature. But we don't help matters any, because we always tend to see her after she's left the house and already at an adjoining event. By that time, we don't have the heart to tell her she doesn't match because then that's all she'll think about it and it will bother her and ruin her day. So basically what I'm saying is maybe her not matching is all our fault, and by our I mean everyone in her life, but not at all her fault. It's something to think about.

I'm afraid of what she will wear years down the road when she sadly passes and Ranny is in charge of attempting to make a match out of everything that doesn't match. Will he try to get something close? Will he figure he'll look dumber if he hits it close but not quite, so he'll just miss totally so that it looks intentional?

Aunt Bev also pointed out that last year on QVC, her favorite channel, they started selling pantsuits that didn't match claiming it was the new style. Aunt Bev changed the channel immediately, which is new for her because she's pretty up on the new fashions, but she knew this was a bunch of crap. She said about a week later they were selling them at clearance prices and then they seized selling them. She can't imagine why and she absolutely means that sarcastically.