Behold! Slipper Ranson - Ransom Letter 3

Seeing as I was told to "put that in my pipe and smoke it," I knew I had to fight back hard. I'll admit, I kind of went with a low blow for my next ransom letter, but I kind of felt it was necessary since I don't even own a pipe and I don't smoke. And yes, the place shown at the bottom of this post really is where she takes her car to get fixed. It used to have a roof.

Have it your way, but I'm not sure Snarfalarfacus would agree. I warned you he was large, and you made him so mad that he went and did this.


These were innocent trees he killed just because you refused to even meet the ransom demands.

These were also innocent trees and innocent telephone pools. Now people are out of power.

More innocent homes and trees, all destroyed!

But in all that innocence, he made sure that it would affect you, too. If your car breaks down, you can't get it fixed. Snarfalarfacus says put that in your pipe and smoke it. He'll be over when you least expect it to break something on your car. Oh, and your slipper has been hung and fed to the real, live bear.

Behold! Slipper Ransom - Ransom Letter 2

When Aunt Bev never responded to my first ransom letter, I waited until after 12:07 a.m., the specified meeting time in the first letter, and sent her out a second letter. I wanted her to know that even though I was returning her slippers on Friday that I was still serious about the ransom.

I waited for you for exactly thirteen minutes at the designated drop off location, until Snarfalarfacus confirmed that you did not show. Big Man Dan seconded this notion. I warned you to obey my demands or the consequences will be dire. If you thought I would not show up because of some silly tornado, you were wrong. What is truly important is your one lost slipper. Perhaps you didn't believe me the first time when I told you I had it. Therefore, I have attached proof of life so that you can further rethink your next misstep.

Since an attempt to collect on your debt was not made, I have changed my mind about the final fate of your poor, dear slipper. Maybe you will change yours. The cat holding your slipper below is Pie. Do not be fooled by her seemingly loving demeanor, for she was trained by the CIA(S), Cats Ignorantly Attack (SURPRISE!). Part of her training was to pretend to be like any other cat, lovable and trustworthy. This is merely how she lures her opponent in, and then, when they least expect it, she snaps. If you don't meet my demands, I will make sure she knows the slipper is the enemy, ready to unleash its wrath on the world by taking all of the catnip available, therefore not allowing it for distribution. You slipper can kiss its butt goodnight, then.

If you are one of the many fools who do not believe in the powers of the CIA(S), then I present you with a real, live bear. As you will notice, he is missing his nose. You should have seen the other guy. Let this be a warning to you. He's got the smell of your slipper under his nose and is ready to go at first cue. Nom.

And if a trained CIA(S) agent and a real, live bear are not enough to put the fear into you, I happened upon this person today. They believe in sparkly vampires that are afraid to come out of the closet. Surely they will have no problem destroying your slipper.

Your blatant refusal to show up at the designated point has forced my hand. If your slipper passes, this will be on your head for the rest of your days. You have one more chance to get this right. Here are your new instructions. Read them carefully. You have been warned.

My price has gone up. Along with the things that I've mentioned the first time, I would also like the following; three packages of Dingo dog bones. They must be the type with the red meat in the middle. You should also include a white bunny no older than eight months, with a gift card that will cover the cost of all the bunny's needs for the next eight years, with an Easter basket made of pure silver and three eggs of the bunny's choice, each filled with Godiva chocolates, plain. Don't go putting anything funny inside of my candy. All the new items shall be placed inside of that Easter basket. You shall take the Easter basket, along with the previously mentioned items to the back entrance of Dick's Sporting Goods. Ask for Dick. When the employees give you funny looks, insist that Dick must work there because it is Dick's Sporting Goods. Become more and more enraged with each employee until they finally call the police. Once the police get there, insist that you have been treated poorly by the employees of Dick's Sporting Goods and then try to press charges. The police will take you to the station and proceed to pull blood to test you and make sure you have no drugs in your system. They will have to lock you up while they await the results, but that's okay, because they take your personal effects before doing so. Like a ninja, I will sneak in and grab your personal effects, which are my ransom items, while you sit in the cell. Don't worry, once they realize you're drug free they will let you go. Your slipper will be taped to the door of the police station. I will be there promptly at four p.m. tomorrow. Show this to the police or refuse to show up and the slipper gets it by way of Pie, the real, live bear, or the Twilight fan. Or maybe by all three.

Now, you would think this would be enough to threaten her into exchanging the now upped ransom for her slipper. This time I didn't even mention that we'd bring the slipper over on Friday. I wanted to trick her into thinking that we wouldn't to see if she'd come to her slippers aid. She didn't. Instead, I got this email.

Cassie,
You can just keep my slipper. No ransom will be forthcoming. So there! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Aunt Bev

I don't think she was taking me serious, nor did I believe that she didn't want her only pair of good slippers that she wore at work to not exist anymore in the absence of one. I had a remedy for that, but you'll have to wait for the next blog to see what all of that's about.

Behold! Slipper Ransom - Ransom Letter 1

Tonight I'm going to start a multi-post series called Behold! Slipper Ransom. If you know me, this isn't weird at all, although it probably does warrant an explanation. Last Tuesday, Aunt Bev was here. She always puts her slippers on while she's here, and in doing so, she left one behind. I could have nicely taken it to her when we headed past her house on Friday, but I decided that just wasn't funny enough, so I came up with the idea to write her ridiculous and bizarre ransom letters for shits and giggles.

I sent the first letter from my Blackberry on Wednesday morning. Don't be fooled, this was not my original idea, but a product of being bored on the hour car ride to the doctor's office and needing something to amuse myself with. Thus, the first ransom letter was born.

We have your slipper. We shall not return it until you meet our demands. We expect payment in the form of six Twinkies, three environmentally friendly reusable shopping bags, an original vinyl copy of the Beatles' song Hey Jude, and a crazy, funky hat.

This is how things will work. You are to put the requested items in a blue purse with dancing birds on it. The purse may not be of any other color, and the birds MUST be dancing. Musical notes coming from the birds' mouths will also be delightfully accepted, but are not mandatory. All items must fit in said aforementioned purse; you may not buy more than one purse to place the items inside of, no exceptions. You will drop these items off at exactly 12:07 a.m. at Gloria's strip club. Go inside, do a one minute hoedown in front of the first bouncer you see, and then ask for Big Man Dan. He'll be the one wearing the pink thong and leather stilettos. He may look a little shady, which is why you don't give the purse to him. He may be tempted to keep it for himself, and then you will never see your precious slipper again. Instead, you shall simply shake his hand three times, do the hokey pokey with him, and end in the handshake as seen by Will Smith on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, all without putting the purse down. Then, sanitize your hands. You will then go back outside and use the code word "Snarfalarfacus" to the three hundred and eighty pound doorman. You must not laugh as you say this, for it is his true name, and he will crush you like a bug. After he spends an uncomfortable amount of time comparing your face to the picture of you he will be given, you will hand him the purse, he will thoroughly check the goods, eat one Twinkie, and then hand you your slipper in an unmarked, plain black garbage bag.

Don't try anything funny and make sure the purse is zipped in case of inclement weather. If my Twinkies are soggy, I will be pissed, yo. In the event that you try to send someone else or everything requested is not present, you will be required to go on no less than six dates with Snarfalarfacus at the biker bar of his choice, and you will never see your dear slipper again. It will be donated to the Men and Women With One Peg Leg Foundation. I encourage you to choose your actions wisely.

But seriously, we'll be coming out your way Friday and will drop off your slipper.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have added the last part, but I was trying to be nice. Note to all ransom holders, it doesn't pay to be nice. Literally. You get nothing back. You become ignored. Thus why I knew I had to take action, prompting me to send a second ransom letter. More about that in the next post.

And for all of you wondering where Snarfalarfacus came from, the iPhone apparently auto-corrects "that's what she said" to "that's what she snarfalarfacus." I had to use it somewhere.

The Aftermath

Today, we left our house for the sole purpose of finding out what roads we can and can not go down, because we are pretty blocked in by tornado damage and have a thing or twelve to do tomorrow. It ends up, many roads are still closed, so we may have to go over the river, through the woods, and past the seven dwarfs to get where we are going, but everyone is alive, so that's all that matters.

While we were out, I took some pictures of the damage to show all of you. They're not great pictures. I took them from the car while we were moving, although many people were pulled to the side of the road taking pictures. These are not pictures of the really bad damage by any means. The roads the tornadoes came right over are, as I mentioned, still closed. Once we can get back up them, I'll try to take some pictures so you can really understand what happened here. These are just the pictures I could get from the roads that ran parallel to the damage but were not affected, yet still, they were humbling. Since we had three tornadoes touch down, these pictures are from different parts of the area. Click all pictures to enlarge.

This picture is such a testament to how oddly the tornadoes hit. People said that they were touching down and pulling back up again, only to drop again, most likely due to all the hills and valleys we have. We were seeing a lot of this; houses and buildings that were totally missed, but then another building right next to it was down. You can see that is the case here, and then to the left of the house, all the trees are just gone. Donzo. The tornado took no prisoners, but left the house.

You can see here where the tornado wiped out all the trees on the top of the hill, as it was a very heavily wooded area on that hill as far as the eye could see, but left some on the side. You can literally see the path it traveled, leaving yet another house alone.

You'll have to enlarge this one. In the background, down the road we can't yet get down, you can see all the insulation and carnage hanging in the trees mercilessly.

Believe it or not, this place used to have a roof over the whole building. But hey, at least the building is standing. Roofs can be fixed.

Yet another testament to how funky this tornado was. There's trees down on either side of the one that is standing, but somehow it made it through like a champ. We saw this with houses a lot, too. In one case, the tornado went in between two houses and a garage, tearing up all the trees and leaving a path, but not taking the houses, just a few shingles from the roof and leaving a few holes in it, too.

I couldn't get any closer to this place yet, either, but if you enlarge this, you can see where the tornado touched down up on the hill and then follow the path down, over the building, and kept going.

This was in between a building and a heavily lined area of trees, both that were still standing just fine. You can actually see the corner of the building in the left side of the picture.

This was a steel sign to the place where they park the school buses for our local schools. Anymore, not so much. And to think, the tornado didn't actually come within fifty yards of this sign. This was just collateral.

This is another angle of the same sign from further away. The fallen sign is behind and slightly to the left of the yellow sign. This is also a pretty open view of the path the tornado took and the damage. We used to have a lot more trees than that on the hillside.

This is yet another picture of the direct path of the tornado. You can see where the trees are absolutely gone, a house, too, yet the house in the very left of the picture is still standing. You can see where it ran over the first house, and then backed up and took a path on the other side of those trees behind the house that's still standing. This, again, was all heavily wooded area.

This tree line is just gone. This was a large, heavily wooded path of trees.

Another angle of the picture above.

The area where the pine trees are fallen was also a heavily lined wooded area. Those telephone pools used to be straight, too. We're aware from the news that the damage at the top of the hill near where those trees have fallen is pretty well damaged, however, we can't get up that road. This was as close as we could get. This is the road I need to go down tomorrow.

This is another view of the previous picture, only from further back. Where were sitting where the cars in this picture when I took the last one.

And last but not least, another round of trees obliterated. It's a miracle no one was hurt, and I've not even showed the worst of it. There's thirty houses that were completely flattened in the EF2 winds. Someone was watching over us last night.

Thankful and Grateful, but Still Scared Shitless

This is not the post I had planned for today. In fact, I had quite a funny little post including e-mails containing my ransom letters to Aunt Bev about her slipper that she left at our house. Just one slipper, so I expect more of a ransom. However, after what happened today, I think that post will have to wait. I am still stunned and somewhat shaking over two hours after this has happened, and if you've turned on The Weather Channel today, then yes, I do live in that area of Pennsylvania that they won't stop talking about. But let's go back and start at the beginning. Please excuse me if this post is jumbled and less than perfect. I'm still freaking out a little.

I had a doctors appointment today. When I got up this morning, my mom was telling me about how the weather was supposed to get bad today, so she just wanted to get done what we had to do today and get home. They were calling for severe thunderstorms with hail, and there was a tornado watch. You have to understand, the tornado was not what we were worried about. We get about two tornado warnings a year, and it has become a joke, even to our weather people, when we get them. If they do begin to form here, which is very rare, they don't touch down. What happens is they form and the wind from them knocks over a few trees, and then they run away screaming back into the sky before they even gets close to the ground. We've never had a tornado here in the twenty five years I've lived here that has touched the ground. We just don't get them here. According to the Weather Channel, which I am still listening to as I type, we've had very few here and they've done no damage except for knock over a few trees before retreating, as we have a ton of hills and valleys and they break up after less than a minute on the ground. So we set out trying to beat the storm and worried that if we got the hail they were calling for, which we do get hail kind of often here, it was going to severely damage the only running vehicle we have.

Despite what they were calling for, the weather defied them. Instead of being fifty one degrees and disgusting out, it was sixty nine degrees and sunny. Still, weather can change here in a second, so we were doing the best we could to hurry up, just in case that storm and hail did come through. As we stopped to take spring pictures of the outside of one of the houses my mom had for sale post the appointment, it began to rain and got very dark. We finished up and started home, but it became sunny against nearly instantly. We were going to just head home so that we were with our animals when and if the storm hit, but since it cleared up and we were going past there, we decided to stop at Target and pick up my prescription today, seeing as we had time with the nice weather. Plus, we didn't want to have to go back down there unnecessarily tomorrow.

We parked our car, went into Target, and started shopping. We were in there less than five minutes when it suddenly sounded like the roof was caving in. The whole store froze. No one knew what to do, as we hadn't heard anything like it before. It took a good minutes until someone announced that it was just hailing outside, although they were softball sized balls of hail, and it was fine. Everyone went about their business, but the weather had turned from sunny to hailing in less than five minutes. The hail only lasted another five minutes before it stopped, leaving everyone to run outside and make sure their cars were okay. It turns out, instead of hail, we were actually getting softballs sized snowballs that had broken up upon hitting the ground, doing no harm. It had done this in the still sixty nine degree weather, though, and we had just gotten snow without a temperature drop. You could almost see the panic on everyone's faces, because that has never happened before, but there were no freight train noises, nothing to indicate it had done anything but hail, so everyone moved on with their shopping.

As we were checking out, one of my mom's co-workers ended up coming into Target and seeing us. She was worked up and started telling us about how she was showing a house about a mile away when the hail hit, and she had to rush to get everyone inside of the house so no one was hurt, however, the power went off and they were standing there in the dark. After the hail let up, she had decided to stop in Target on her way past and get batteries for her flashlights in her car in case it happened again. She also wanted to tell us that we couldn't get up the local road, because, for some reason, it was blocked going the opposite way that she had gone when leaving the house. She figured in the hail and apparent wind that some trees had been knocked over, and since she knew we took that way home, we appreciated her letting us know.

As we left Target, it began to rain heavily and thunder, so we knew the storm was coming. We began driving home and got less than a mile down the road when it started to hail again. This time it was actual hail, and since we were not on a road where we could pull over, we were stuck driving in the heavy rain and hail, but were moving really slowly and praying really hard that the hail didn't come through our windshields.

This is the point in the story where you have to understand that weather panics me. Give me a few dead people, give me a snake, anything, and I'm fine. But bad weather, like horrible storms and the like, will give me little panic attacks. I don't know why, but it's always scared me. I can get through snow and regular storms, but when it gets really bad, it just flips me the hell out. Therefore, I pulled out my phone and went into the weather application for Blackberry, which allows me to get up to the minute updates. I began to read it off to my mom so that we could try and figure out why the sudden change in weather. The application told me that there had been a tornado that had briefly touched down about thirty miles from where we were, but had broken up about fifteen miles from where we were, and was no more. What we were dealing with was a storm front that was coming from the opposite direction and hitting the lingering front from the former tornado, making it rain and hail at the same time, but to be careful of the lightening, as it was touching ground. We weren't too worried, as the tornado was off the ground, nowhere near us, and it was just a storm. Things were fine. We'd get home just fine.

Just as we felt that way, we saw traffic piling up on the road we were on. As we got closer, we saw emergency vehicles. We pulled up more and saw a few trees down from the weather. Stupid weather and totally normal for this heavily wooded area. Every time we get bad weather, or even moderate winds, trees start to fall, because there's a lot of really old, dead ones in the area. This was normal and we were more worried about our animals being afraid in the storm, as they were home themselves, and that we couldn't get home to them and would have to turn around and find another way. Having no other choice, we joined the traffic line and waited our turn to be able to turn around at the emergency vehicles, one at a time, as they commanded us to do. They were directing traffic off of another road, too, that met the road we were on and weren't able to get down it because of the fallen tree. We moved up slowly, and as we came to the one point around the corner of the road, I happened to look out my window and saw that a line of trees were knocked over to the immediate right of us. The trees were very close together, so it was logical to think that the lightening had hit one, snapped it, and it caused a domino effect. And then I looked up and out the front window.

About forty yards away, there was a tree down across the road, and I knew something wasn't right. I began to look to the left and immediately wished I wouldn't have done it. I then looked back to the right, only I looked past the trees right outside my window. A tornado had come straight through there and we were sitting in the middle of the path of where it had been. There was an old barn down on the left, and the line of trees that had once been up on the hill were plowed straight through. To the right, there was a house with shingles torn off of it pretty badly, but the trees on both sides of the house and behind it were completely gone in one big straight line. It was clearly this man's house had been in the eye of the storm and he got very, very lucky, as everything ten feet away from his house and more was gone. He was an older man of at least seventy, standing outside of his house and just looking at everything, in complete shock and humbled. Cue me losing my shit.

This began an hour of us trying to get home. We tried to get home several ways, but the tornado had followed a path, wiping out the trees and the roads, but oddly, it seemed to have missed all the houses we were seeing. At one point, there were trees down less than twenty feet behind two houses, but both of the houses were absolutely fine, except for a few shingles. You could trace the path where the tornado had gone right around them, crossed in front of them, and took out all the trees on the other side of the road. It felt like I was literally standing in the middle of Twister, full of disbelief and expecting a movie director to yell cut at any moment. This just does not happen here.

As we kept trying to get home, the news came in on my phone that a tornado had touched down on the opposite side of where we live from where we were, meaning we were surrounded by tornadoes each touching down less than two miles from our house. We began to panic, worried if our house would be there, worried if our animals were okay, and all we wanted to do was get home. I, of course, inserted crying here. The devastation and fear overtook me, but at least it had stopped raining and hailing, making it easier to see just what had happened.

As we finally found a way to go and started to get closer to home, we passed the high school that I had once gone to, before being homeschooled. This was my local high school. This wasn't far from my house. And yet it was heavily damaged. The roof was gone, there were bricks everywhere, there were emergency crews surrounding it by the dozens, news crews there, and there were kids inside. We had to keep driving, hoping we could get down one last road to our house. We trooped on, afraid of what we might see, but the closer we got to our house, everything seemed completely untouched. We had power, when no one else did. It had rained, there was one old tree down that was bound to fall over eventually, but everything was fine. Our animals were fine, our house was fine, nothing had happened. There's no words for how relieved we were, but also none to describe what we had seen, what I would have been okay with never seeing in my life and if I see it again it will be too soon, but we hadn't even heard the half of what had happened.

We immediately got in the door, hugged the crap out of our animals, and settled in to watch the news. It didn't take long to find out that the time the tornado hit was the time when we first heard the large snowballs while in Target. Had we not gone in Target, we would have been in the path of the tornado as it hit, trying to drive with nowhere to go. Stopping in Target may have quite literally saved our lives. We then came to find out that twenty seven houses were leveled, several had roof damage or were missing the roofs, trailer trucks that were sitting at a landscaping company were thrown hundreds of yards away, but everyone, including all the kids in the high school, was alive. Everyone.

We're awaiting news on the rating of the tornado. They have the people who gauge that out here now figuring out what exactly hit us. Apparently, the tornado that hit here was not the same tornado that hit thirty miles away. It did break up. One formed over our high school, slammed into the high school, split in not two, like we originally thought, but THREE, and just went for it. The roof is off and the school is flooding, but all the kids, every single one, are fine. The ones trapped under the houses when they collapsed? As of a minute ago, we just got word that they are all fine, too. No one even had to be hospitalized. It's the most surreal thing, because we are completely untouched, but if we go a mile and a half to two miles in either direction, there is just obliteration. Here are a few videos to show you what happened.

Not my video, but of someone riding in a car as the tornado formed.

Pulling up after knocking over houses post the split at the high school.

The funnel cloud forming again.

The hail.

More hail.

I am still terrified and will be for awhile. Every time I go somewhere, I'm going to see the path where the tornado tore straight through, I'm going to see things flattened, and I'm going to remember this day. The images are just coming in from the tornado and the damage is far worse than we even saw while we were driving. So many people are displaced right now, mobile homes have been overturned, but everyone is safe. Maybe it's not a big deal for people who live in tornado ally, or in places that are more inclined to get tornadoes, but we just do not get them here. We just don't. We don't even have tornado warning signals. So to go from never have tornadoes to making the "Storm on the Day" on the Weather Channel is terrifying, and I if it ever happens again it will be far, far too soon.

But everyone is okay. Everyone is safe and accounted for. Things cleared up after our last bit of hail and the weather has been a slow rain, which apparently is going to be followed by snow tonight. And thank God, quite literally, that we are still having a much better day than Japan. It just breaks my heart and I pray for the recovery of the country and for as many people as possible. In retrospect, what happened today was nothing, but terrifying none the less.

Rock Star Life

Today, my cat has decided that he likes my string cheese and wants to eat it. When I move my hand, he thinks this is his cue to jump on me and chase my hand down for the string cheese. When he doesn't get any, he is disappointed.

Yesterday, and awesome website hosted a chat with the rock star that is Paget Brewster. So I'm good. My week was pretty much made.

Then I live with these guys, so things can't be that bad, right?

Plus, I got the Easter eggs already filled with yummy, yummy candy for Easter. No one ever said I wasn't prepared when chocolate was involved.

Gullible Is Written On Your Ceiling

In honor of keeping my promise, I give you the following.

Japan had a hurricane, because Paul said so.

In other news, as I was writing, I was reminded of something my grandpap told me when I was little. I once made the mistake of inquiring to a jokester about what the difference between a motel and a hotel was. He told me hotels were fancy places like the Hilton, where everyone had their own room and facilities. He told me motels were where all the people in the entire establishment shared a bathroom. I believed him until a few years ago. Gullible - It's written on my forehead.

Miss Texas Rose

With material this cute, I see crafting in my future.


Also, if you have time, sit down and watch Elvis and Anabelle. It easily goes on my extremely short list of favorite movies, plus Joe Mantegna is incredible in it. It's a must see for all his fans.

I am so obsessed with Twitter and rain boots right now. So obsessed. I am confused as to why real estate agents keep following me on Twitter, but my favorite rain boots are these. Neither of those things are related.

The Busty Pear

Dear Ever-So-Sought-After Fashion Magazine,

Every time I open your magazine, your pages are filled with fabulous ideas of how to dress according to body type. This includes busty babes, petite cutie pies, curvaceous chickadees, and pear shaped vixens. I give kudos to you for praising all body types, however, I find that I'm both a busty babe and a pear shaped vixen. Just call me Kim Kardashian. Because of this, I feel like a ginger in a school yard. Now what?

Sincerely,
The Busty Pear

In other news, I've managed to scare my dog today, as well as make the world's most interesting politically incorrect typo ever; I typed back boner instead of back burner. Yeah, all that happened. At least the typo was yesterday, so I can allow myself a bit of a sigh of relief knowing that much fail did not evade one solid day. On the other hand, if we sat and brainstormed as to why Charlie Sheen was such a tool, we'd learn that my fails were still more of a win than any win he's had in the last few months. Sad, isn't it?

Also in the works for my *new book, Realtors Say the Darnedest Things, are the following quips. The other day, I was at a Realtor open for a three quarter of a million dollar house. I see your problem with this, and no, I'm not a Realtor. I went with my mom because I wanted to see the house. I also got free lunch, but that's not the point. The house was gorgeous, had an amazing floor plan, with open rooms and a park like atmosphere to the land. However, the bathrooms were stuck in the eighties. Stuck like glue, guys. The house was built in the 90s, but that didn't seem to matter to the bathrooms. They had that a-little-kid-went-apeshit-with-the-crayons wallpaper, the mauve sinks and tubs, and the snazzy black and pink granite counter tops. Since only Realtors come to the open, they all end up congregating and talking about the house openly.

At one point, one of the Realtors came down the hallway, stood in front of us, and then said, "If you had a medical condition, that bathroom could give you a stroke." He was not lying. Directly after this, he went upstairs. Several seconds later I heard him yell, "WOW!" The only thing worse than the downstairs bathroom...was the upstairs bathroom. Guess where he was when he yelled that?

A little while later, another Realtor came. She began to regal us with a story of her first sale twenty some odd years ago. She told us how her first client was so difficult to work with that she almost quit her job. On her first sale. She said she actually cried and tried to rationalize her quitting by saying that real estate school hadn't been all that expensive or time consuming, and she could always go back to school for something else. Who was that client, you may wonder. My grandpap. Yep, Squirrel Monkeys, no lie. I giggled uncontrollably and had to put my food down so I didn't choke.

You have to understand that I hear these stories about my grandpap consistently and have since I was little. After hearing the one about the Indian who went on the warpath with him in the middle of a 4-H meeting in front of several people, nothing surprises me anymore. However, that's not who my grandpap ever was to me. He was the most loving, kind and gentlest person there was. He took care of me, loved me, and is the only reason I know that someone can care so selflessly for another person. But apparently he was only like that with me. I figured a long time ago that I could choose to see him in a different light and be upset or just remember who he was to me and the way he treated me and always carry that with me and laugh off the stories. I do the latter.

* I'm not really writing a book about this, although I could. I just don't think I could do so inconspicuously. I don't want people hating me.

Turn My Back to the Door

Falling in love is socially considered to be in fashion. It's all the rage in movies and books. It's why we watch and why we read. Name me a show or a movie that doesn't have an intertwining storyline of love somewhere in it. Even animated Disney movies do. The princess always finds her prince; she's always rescued. But in real life, the only thing love is, is high fashion.

It's crazy and misunderstood. Sometimes it's a little messy. It's a lot of high hopes, shocks, and everyone watching to see if you'll fall on your face. It's criticism and laughter, sometimes at your expense. It's a lot of work. It's a twenty four seven job. You never know when you're going to wake up one morning and have to go to work. You never know where you'll end up. You never now if someone will stop loving you and you'll be out of that job when you gain weight or change, even if you're happier with yourself than you've ever been. You live in a fish tank and the media are the people around you and the person you're with. Everyone's a photographer, waiting to capture that one moment when things fell flat and you were tousled from grace. It's satisfying, but as scary as walking a tight rope.

Even though, there's something about love that attracts us like a moth to a flame. You try to go through your life pretending like it doesn't matter, but it does. It's human nature to want to be with someone. Your heart cries for it even when your conscious doesn't. Sometimes in the middle of the night you'll turn over to grab for someone, only to find there's no one there. That's when it hits you the hardest; that's when you know you're alone.

The thing about loneliness is that it affects people differently. Some are okay with it. In fact, some people seem to thrive on it. They go after that job, that project, that apartment and car they've had their eye on. Loneliness makes them work harder. It assures them that they have everything they've dreamed of, and then when they're forty or so, they realize they've missed out on love while trying to push lonely on the back burner.

Loneliness is a silent killer. As cliche as it sounds, a lot of people commit suicide over it. This is a fact. If you're with someone and you're happy, you feel like you've got everything to live for. But alone, the opportunities start to dwindle. The light shines a little dimmer. You start to forget what reasons you have for getting out of bed. The world is painted gray. You walk with your head down, and you can nearly feel the rain on your skin with every step outside you take, and then it follows you inside. You do things as if you're a robot; there's no emotion behind it.

But there's the other side of love that no one else wants to talk about. It hides behind a fragile curtain that few can bear to look behind. It's the unrequited kind of love, and there's a million reasons for it. I want to talk about a certain kind, though, the kind where you know you're in love and want no one else to love, but you know you can never be. Romeo and Juliet died for it. It's a classic story, but behind each story are unique reasons for the situation.

I spent years loving someone whose lifestyle I couldn't live. It took me years of feeling like a Katy Perry song to realize that no matter how much I loved him, we'd never last. If he we tried, we'd just end up more broken than we began and probably not friends anymore. But we weren't friends now, because we couldn't even see each other. I made the decision to officially cut ties, thinking it would be the worst thing I ever did. He saved me when I didn't now how to save myself. I had tried once before and failed. Why would this time be any different?

It was different, though. I did cry...for about two days. It took me a full week to want to associate with people again and make up with online communities. It took me almost two weeks, until this moment, to start feeling like myself again. And now that I sit here with a clearer head and a less confused heart, I realize that the reason things never worked when I tired to let go before was because I wasn't ready. This time I was ready. This time it was worth it. This time I feel free, and I feel happy.

Moving on doesn't mean you have to have things end on a bad note. Sometimes it just means parting when the pain starts beating on you like a drum. You have to free yourself and realize that hurting the other person may come with that. You have to own up to your responsibility in that to be okay with it in the long run. You're not hurting them to be facetious or get back at them for something, but because you can't go on the way things are, and it's okay to be selfish sometimes if it means your happiness. Things usually are as bad as you think they are; as you feel they are deep down inside, and with that being the case, the other person knows it, too. The other person will see it was best. It will just take time, because the only reason they've not acted yet was because they still weren't ready to let go.

You can still wish the other person the best. You can still want them to be happy and want to see them end up with the right person for them, even if you've always felt it was you, regardless if it would work out or not. The heart doesn't filter right or wrong. It just knows how it feels. That being said, it doesn't mean you have to sit around and wait for that person to announce they're going to walk down the middle with someone new. You don't have to show up at their event dressed in black and in mourning. And when you think of it that way, when you're really ready, saying goodbye is the easiest thing you can do for your own heart.

From one girl to another who has been there, felt that, and let her heart cry, bleed, and then reap the benefits that goodbye can sometimes bring, I come to you with advice.

Remember this moment, the one right now. Nothing you feel is insignificant or will ever be, so you can learn from those quiet moments, the awkward ones, and the ones where you feel indifferent. It's much easier to be critical than it is to be happy and to take things like a champ, but in the end the latter will always help you keep your head above water. Shine. Know you. Know what your limits are and what you can take. Wake up every day, alone or with the person you love, and smile at yourself in the mirror. Tell yourself it's going to be a good day, even if you think it's not. But most importantly, take time for yourself. Life can be busy, I know. Even if it's nothing but twenty minutes at the end of the night as you're drifting off to sleep, use those precious minutes for yourself to think, fantasize, dream, or do all of the above. Your heart and brain will meet in those rare, quiet moments, to tell you what they really want. You just have to listen.

Live life crazy loud, like you have the right to.

I'm Onto You, Aliens!

Dear Disney,

I am convinced my neighbor is a full-bodied artificial intelligence work-in-progress that was crafted by some aliens with a sense of humor. I think they not so secretly programmed her to have several mishaps, therefore teaching them what they shall not do when they infiltrate our planet. She is their test dummy, emphasis on the last part. If this is her purpose, she is serving it well. Allow me to further explain.

Said neighbor decided that she was going to participate in Earthly customs and adopt not one, but two dogs. It became apparent rather quickly that she was not familiar with animals of this sort or possibly any at all. She allows her dogs to go outside, oblivious that there is a road nearby. They run all over the place, as she is unaware what a leash is, and it has come to the point that anytime she leaves her dogs out, we also have to stand and watch them to make sure they don't come in our yard. Sure, she pretends to watch them, but most of the time her back is turned or she is picking at her nails. Once or twice she will absentmindedly throw a ball, usually straight toward the road in her euphoria of being self absorbed. This was all concerning enough, and then today happened.

I watched helplessly as she actually decided to stop her dogs from going down on the road. She yelled for them, stomping her foot in the process. They ran over to her like they meant business, but as soon as she bent down with her arms outstretched, the one dog took off around her, and the other went back for the road. That dog ran straight out onto the road just to get away from her. Although I don't blame the dog, I am eternally grateful that the tan van coming around the corner was paying attention to where it was going and wasn't speeding and was therefore able to stop before unthinkable things happened. Instead of going after the dog to remove it from the road, she walked away from it to grab the other dog who was not in her yard, but still in a yard. The dog eventually got off the road, although I was unable to tell if it was because of the driver of the van or not, as she never made an attempt to go after her own animal. From what I could see, she just ignored it, which is pretty par for the course for her.

I believe the above is proof of her being crafted as a very human looking specimen of artificial intelligence. For you see, the dogs were willing to at least amuse her intermittently until she tried to pet and hug them. My hypothesis suggests that this is because her animatronic parts make her sound suspicious as she moves about and fake skin is cold to the touch, frightening the poor, unsuspecting animals. As soon as I have more proof, I will further form an inference in which you can bet I will forward your way.

Furthermore, the same young lady seems unsure of how to use her vehicle correctly, although she is supposedly in her twenties. You never can tell with those fake humans these days. Said young animatronic experiment managed to lock her keys in her car three times in one week. It was only Wednesday. How do I know said specimen did this? She openly admitted it on Facebook to all her friends and basically the rest of the world. She then complained that she had to pay a grand total of fifty dollars each time for someone to come and get her keys out. I am sad to announce that I have reasons to believe she still has not discovered what a spare key is. Once I figure out how to contact her home planet, I will alert them to this glitch in their hardware.

In doing so, I would also suggest upping their technology. Ever since presumed girl moved in next to us for the second time, she has been in school. We have since come to find out that she is a full time student in year four of a two years degree. Please, aliens, I beg of you to do the math on that one. It should take two years to get a two year degree, not four. Her reasoning, as it has been said from the mouth of babes, is that her professors hate her and keep failing her. Her words, not mine. This glitch must be fixed. No one would believe she was a human with that kind of blatant stupidity. If the aliens are not more careful, she will be figured out.

Recently, her significant other contracted H1N1, otherwise known as the swine flu. Many people offered to take her dogs in, but none offered to take her in. Even her own grandma told her she didn't want her coming there and causing more problems for her. She and said boyfriend already live in the apartment above this same grandparent's garage, so this seemed awfully fishy and cunning of said aforementioned grandma to say this. Human grandparents are always glad to see their grandchildren, unless they've been arrested, accused of murder, or are harboring slaves in illegality in the basement of their grandparents' homes, knowing they can never get down the stairs to get the proof they need.

I think this is decent evidence against her human training, as she's not even able to con her own grandparents into keeping her away from a potentially deadly illness for one night. There can only be two reasons. One, said grandparents are a rouse to continue to allow her to go incognito in the human world. They know she is but not a human and cannot contract human viruses. Two, she has been unable to infiltrate humans as seamlessly as the aliens hoped, not even being able to force a relationship between her presumed grandparents and herself. They simply hate her inhuman ways and lack of intelligence.

Somehow, though, above and beyond all of this, the experiment has managed to jack my internet. I have password protected it, made the connection invisible, changed the password several times, performed at least a dozen Indian rain dances, and yet she still somehow manages to get in, despite the previous mentions of her intelligence chip being faulty. To add to this evidence, let me reiterate the fact that the internet is available to anyone who would like it.

She does not live too far out, she does have a phone, therefore allowing her to call the internet provider to set up service, and either she or her boyfriend are always there, so they wouldn't have to struggle to find a time to allow the pesky man to come and install internet service. Both she and her boyfriend work full time, she during the day, her boyfriend at night, and live for free in the apartment, so one would assume that unless they are blowing all their money on crack and whores, they should be able to afford the extra thirty bucks a month for decent internet instead of wasting hours of their life cracking mine. This just pisses me off and makes me have to me turn around, change all my passwords, and wait for several months until they do it again, as they openly complain their neighbor, i.e. me, is an idiot for not letting them use their internet. In truth, all was well and good until they got in and changed my passwords for my connection, therefore shutting me out of my own connection and forcing me to have to reset everything via the original modem, which I happen to own since I'm the one paying for the internet. In your face. Just saying.

In closing, I feel as if the aliens have truly failed in their mission, however, I can not confirm or deny that this is their first attempt at recreating human life artificially. Also, I understand things are different on their planet and am sure they are making the necessary adjustments as time goes by and miscalculations arise. Although she's extremely difficult to live next to, I believe the story is both a humorous and compelling look into the very telling facts of alien life. That being said, I was wondering what kind of deal you were willing to present to me in order to make this story your very own new hit movie. All offers will be considered, and I can even write the script for you at no extra charge, if you would prefer.

Sincerely,
A Non Barbie Girl Living In An Alien Barbie World

Seriously, though, you guys, it's been a day. And yes, the part about having to watch our neighbor's dogs for her is totally true. The last thing we want are her dogs running all over our yard. Unfortunately, that's the last thing she cares about. It's not like we have our own dogs to take care of or anything.

Anywho, back to today. I had haphazardly decided to begin getting some of the Easter stuff out. Early? Why yes I am, but I can't take looking at snow and snowmen and animals in hibernation and a world of white for a minute longer than I have to. I want to see bunnies and spring colors and happiness all around me. I'm just ready to move on from feeling entombed in my own house because of the season. Because we still have snow on the ground and apparently more to come, I made sure to not make the outside world and Mother Nature feel dejected by simply blending some Easter things with the snowmen. It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise. It's more of a coming of seasons story, illustrated for all to see.

This was going all well and good until I climbed the treacherously high step stool. Everyone knows one and a half feet equals death defying heights. I'm careful not to get up on a step stool of any kind, regardless of how high it is, or go up and down steps if I'm not feeling well or a little dizzy. Often times those mellow spells end in me becoming so dizzy that I lose my balance or fall. Sometimes I black out. A few times I've had those experiences while on the step stool, but since it was fairly low to the ground, I was always able to catch myself. No worries.

For whatever reason, the step stool and my body decided to conspire to plan a sneak attack and bite me in the ass. If my ass looks like my foot. For the first time in the history of me being alive, I fell off the step stool. I down right blacked out long enough that when I came to, I was on the floor. My foot was wedged under the couch. It was a little startling and a little funny all at once, and generally, I just didn't know what to think, because I didn't remember what happened that took me from the step stool to my current position.

What's more is that I was feeling fine in regards to being dizzy when I went up on the step stool. There were no indicators that I would be taking a swan dive or I would have never gone up on the step stool in the first place. I'm a lot of things, but a glutton for punishment is not one. And naturally, because this was a step stool / body conspiracy, my foot that got stuck under the couch was the one I had a one hundred and twenty pound box come down on a few years ago, so it's already a little worse for wear.

Thankfully, I don't think I injured it, at least not permanently. It swelled up, so I sat on my bottom and iced the heck of it, and then vowed to stay off of it as much as I could today. This really put a damper on my plans. I think the snow Gods are after me for trying to somewhat replace and show them up them with Easter stuff. They don't like the glory being taken away from them, which I understand, but I promise I was not trying to offend the snow or anything attached to the season of winter.

There's a place on my foot that is bruised, and if I turn my foot the wrong way or put any pressure on it, I get a jolt from my foot to my knee. I think it just angered and irritated the nerve. Although I've apologized, it's still a little angry. I'm off to sing it campfire songs in an operatic tone in hopes that it stops bothering me, because tomorrow I must finish decorating. I see you winter stuff. Don't get any ideas. None. None you crafty little suckers. NONE!

The Crazy People Chronicles

Selling things has always been an adventure for me. By now, I've told you plenty of Craigslist stories. Don't get me wrong, they don't anger me. When I retell them to you guys, it's because they make me laugh, and I'm all about sharing laughs. The ridiculous things people do never seize to amaze and delight me. Okay, delight may be an overstatement. To honor that, this post shall be no different than the other Craigslist crazy posts. Sit back, grab some popcorn, and get ready for some laughs. Please don't choke on the popcorn, though. I can't be responsible for your choking and dying.

I had tried to sell a dress on Craigslist. It was an evening gown with a zipper up the back. In the ad, I not only put the size, but also my own size and measurements so that people had a good idea if it would fit them or not. In theory, this is a fabulous idea. In real life, people don't read. I had several people email me, their size included, asking me if I thought my dress would fit them. They would be three of four sizes bigger than me most of the time. I answered the first few and then ignored them. I just don't understand how much clearer I could make the sizing. Trust me, I don't want to put my measurements online, but I thought it would stop those kinds of questions. I was so wrong. This is normal for me, so I was right on par.

Keeping with that theme, I also had people email me telling me that they were larger than me, but they still wanted to come try on the dress to see if it fit them. Unfortunately, because the dress had a zipper, I had to turn them down. The dress fits me perfectly, so if they were larger, there would be no way they'd get into it without most likely breaking the zipper, and I just didn't want to get in to that. I didn't want to ruin the dress. The moral of the story; it's useless to try to sell clothing on Craigslist.

As you also know, I was trying to sell furniture on Craigslist. Due to the amount of spam and general stupidity, I took the furniture down and decided to go ahead and keep it. A few days after doing this, I received an email from a woman regarding it. For a moment I panicked, knowing I had taken the ads down and wondering how she got my email address. Then I looked at her name and my sent messages and realize she had contacted me about said furniture about a month and a half before. When I opened her old emails, I immediately headed the coffee table.

When this woman contacted me previously, she had asked me questions that were already in the ad. She did this three times. By the third time, I was honestly tired of going back and forth and answering her questions which were ALREADY IN THE AD! One time I can forgive. Three times, not so much. I very nicely told her this exactly. "Please read the ad before emailing me again. All of your questions can be answered there. Thank you for your interest." She never got back to me. I never expected her to. That was fine.

Until now. Now she was back. All her email said was "Call me about this furniture." The phone number was included. Already foreseeing how this was going to go, I emailed her back and told her I would be more than happy to answer any questions she had through email. That was a lie, because if she started asking me questions that were in the ad again, although the ad had been taken down, I was ignoring her. I just wasn't doing it with her again. By this time I had resigned to the fact that I was keeping the furniture because of the spam and hassles and people like her. And it'd be one thing if it was just her, but we're talking three of four emails like this a day that ultimately ended up wasting hours of my time. Not only that, but I don't give out my phone number on Craigslist until we have a date and time set up for them to come see the furniture, in case they got lost. If people were spamming me relentlessly through email, what were they going to do with to my phone, especially with texting? At least I could block them on my email.

In response, I got an entire novel of an email back. The woman told me she had since bought other furniture for herself, but went on to tell me about her friend, and his entire life story. How his wife left him when his daughter was two, he raised his daughter himself, didn't have a steady job, was very poor, etc. Look, I feel for the guy, I do, because my mom was a single mother after my dad left, and there were so tough times. This, however, had nothing to do with my furniture. Then she went on to tell me that his daughter had old, mismatched furniture and was looking for some new furniture. She showed his daughter my set and she was in love with it, so in love that it made said author of the email cry, but I wasn't to tell him that she had told me his story. She also told me she had just reconnected with her friend, since she just separated from her husband. Again, no idea what this had to do with the ad, but I did catch one thing that immediately made me call bullshit.

She said her friend was very poor. Let me just be honest, my bedroom set was not cheap. I was asking $1200 for it, which is comparable to brand new furniture sets. However, the new sets were usually three of four pieces and made primarily if plywood. My set had five pieces and was all wood. I researched the value of it thoroughly before pricing it. My furniture was also a unique, light wood with etched colored flowers set in the wood, instead of being plain. If you're poor, you're not going to even begin to look at a $1200 set of furniture. At all. You're going to find another, cheaper set for your daughter that matches and is still beautiful. I wasn't buying what this lady was selling and was quite frankly annoyed that she felt the need to tell me all of this, because I felt she was just trying to get the furniture cheaper. I also didn't believe there was a friend or a daughter by the way she worded it. I had a feeling she was looking for it for herself after coming up empty on her search and was trying to get a better price. I forwarded her email to a few friends without my thoughts, and all thought the same thing. It was truly in her poor wording. She was also aware from our previous conversations that she was responsible for removing the furniture from the home, as I can not lift it. It's very heavy furniture. I told her all of this before.

I emailed her back and nicely said that I was available the day and time she wanted to come look at the furniture, but I wanted to let her know, so that we didn't waste our time, that I was firm on the price. She emailed me back and told me that she knew that I was since we had talked about that before. I had our emails right there; we hadn't. She then went on to tell me another life story, one which told me all about the physical therapy she was in and how she was having all these problems, but she would be coming over after her physical therapy. However, instead of coming at a certain time, she wanted me to call her between a certain time, that way I could stay on the phone with her while she picked up her friend, and then give her directions to my house on the phone. Initially, she had actually given me a time. I have not a clue what changed from one email to the next, especially when I agreed to the time already.

Let me be totally honest with you, I have not a clue where in the hell she was coming from. I couldn't even have taken a guess, nor was I going to sit on the phone with her for however long it took her to pick up her friend and get here, to give her directions. That's what mapquest is for.

Oh? What's that? You caught where she said was in physical therapy? Yeah, me too. So obviously her friend wasn't going to be able to lift the furniture himself, and she wasn't going to be able to lift the furniture, which left me to help. I already told her I couldn't. So between my previous experience with her, that, the fact that I thought she was bullshitting me, her stories that I felt for yet had nothing to do with the furniture, the changing times, her lying to me, and the fact that I had a feeling she was trying to get the furniture cheaper, I was not thrilled about her coming out. I was also reminded why I took the furniture offline.

I emailed her and told her that it would be better if we just set up a time. I was available the same times she was, but also had things to do that day, so if she gave me a time I would be here waiting. I would also give her my address so she could mapquest it, and my phone number if she got lost. I never heard back from her. I even checked in with her again, but nothing.

I like to imagine this is exactly what happened.

Her: "Look at this email! This girl isn't going to give me a break on the furniture!"

Guy Who May or May Not Have a Daughter: "I thought you said you were going to give her some long, sad, sob story, and she was going to give it to you cheaper! Minerva, I already told you we can't afford no $1200 furniture."

Her: "I did, but that little bitch said she was firm on the price."

GWMOMNHAD: "There's no point in us going."

Sometimes you can call people's bluff from a mile away. I had figured the first time that one of the reasons she had not further inquired about the furniture was the price, because she kept trying to buy pieces separately, and also saying things like, "I would like to have the full set, but I just can't." And then she would just go right on ahead and ask me questions already in the ad. Maybe I'm a jerk for asking her to set a time, but I'm glad I didn't waste my time with her. The ball was in her court. I've actually come to the conclusion that the frustration I've gone through trying to sell this furniture was not worth it, but it made me appreciate and love my furniture all over again.

This lady is still not my favorite ridiculous lady ever. I would like to present you with the story of the lady who I don't believe actually had a child. Back in the day, I was trying to sell my horse to a child who would love her, ride her, show her, and spend time with her since I don't get up to see her as often as I should. I just wanted her to be happy. She is a small horse and has issues supporting the weight of many normal sized adults. She does better with people of 120 lbs and below. She also loves kids and will do anything they tell her like an obedient little puppy dog. In the ad, I put that I was looking to sell her to a child only and was very up front about her issues with carrying someone over 120 lbs. I said she'd need a small child that she could grow with and was amazing with children. I was honest in the ad and reiterated every time someone would email me so they understood. If we couldn't sell her to the right home, we were going to keep her, as we were just trying to do what was best for her. I was also clear in the ad about this, too, so no one could feel like we were just trying to dupe them.

Needless to say, we got everything. We had someone come up with a ten year old that was taller than me and nearly 150 lbs. (I had this happen two times, believe it or not, with two different people.) We had a girl come up who claimed to be a championship barrel racer, but was afraid of my tiny, western pleasure horse and refused to ride her. I had another set of people who came up, rode the horse, insisted she was lame because she had white legs. If you know anything about horses, you know that these are called socks and many, many horses have them. They obviously had no basic horse knowledge. They still wanted her, but they wanted her cheap. If a horse is lame, you're not going to want to buy her because that's not something you can reverse. Plus, we had had her pre-checked by a vet for any issues, and also told them they could bring their own vet out to check her. They said no, they just wanted her cheap. NEXT.

We had other people come up, look at her, and they were wonderful, wonderful people. They were interested, their little girl was adorable, they were lovely. They called us a couple days later letting us know that they wanted her, however, they could only pay half the price for her because they also needed hay. They couldn't afford both. We weren't willing to sell the horse for half price, nor did we think it was fair that they expected us to do that because they couldn't afford her. It also brought up the concern of if they could really afford another horse, which would otherwise be none of our business. They had to know they were going to need hay and couldn't afford both when they came to look at her. It was only two days later when they called us, and they knew the price of her upon coming to see her. We even discussed it with them when they were there.

We had other people who were supposed to meet us and never showed up at the meeting place. We tried to contact them and nothing. Almost an hour later they called and said they were there. By that point we had already come back home and we weren't going to go back out. They did apologize for running late, but also didn't feel it necessary to call us and tell us they were running late, as they had our cell numbers, nor did they think it was a problem they were that late. They tried to do the same thing another time. We passed on going through that again.

We had several people who would email me asking me if I would sell the horse cheaper without even coming to see her. And it wouldn't be a little cheaper, it would be a lot. One person offered us less than half the price. You had your general people who were interested, but never got back to you, people who didn't show up and wasted your time, etc. Those were to be expected.

The last woman and child who came to look at our horse came through a friend of ours. Although her child was a little large, they were nice people. They told us all about their brand new barn, arena, the great place they had, and how they would love for me to help the daughter learn the proper cues for the horse. I was all about helping this little girl learn about the horse, and they didn't live very far from us. This sounded perfect, because being able to help your horse blend in with a new family, and the family blend in with her, was really what we were looking for, for her. Plus, the little girl was quite sweet, although quiet.

Because I was going to be helping her daughter train the horse, we got to go to their house and check out their wonderful facilities pre them purchasing the horse. Imagine our surprise when we got there and none of the facilities existed. Nothing they had said had been truthful. There was no arena. The barn was one of those old barns that was falling over and not safe. There was no door on it, there were no stalls, the flooring was nothing but mud, they didn't have any way to separate the horse from their cows and bull if necessary, and nowhere to put her if she were to get hurt and needed to heal. The windows were gone; it was freezing in there and all the elements could get in. It was also too small to fit in all of the cows they already had and the bull, meaning someone was going to be left out in the cold. Since our horse is less than pushy, it'd most likely be her. They also didn't regulate who ate what. They just threw food out, and whomever got to it got to eat. Whomever didn't, didn't eat. They didn't see a problem with this. Horses need regulated eating schedules and so much food a day, just like a human. Then they went to tell us that their bull is quite aggressive and will attack deer, horses, etc, but they had no separate pasture for her, so she'd learn to co-exist.

We questioned her about what she had told us and why she had lied to us. Her response was that she hadn't lied to us. She was planning on doing all the things she told us in the next couple of years. The more we talked to her, the more we realized she knew nothing about owning a horse. This included not knowing they needed vet care like smaller animals, shots, shoeing and their feet taken care of, and so on. Anything they had told us and the way they had presented themselves was a total farce. We were so upset that we did not sell to her. We took the ad off the horse website that night and decided not to sell her.

Still, through all of this and all the strange people we had and experiences we had been through, my favorite lady, as I mentioned before, was the one who never really had a kid. She initially contacted me telling me that she would like a horse for her son. She sounded like a good fit, so we were setting up an appointment for her to come meet the horse. That's when everything started to get odd. All of a sudden she stopped mentioning her son. She was just talking about her coming out, her wondering if she'd fit in our saddle, her riding, etc. We picked a day and I said to her that I was looking forward to meeting her and her son. This is when all hell broke loose.

She full out lost her shit. She said in no way, shape or form would I be meeting her son. Her son would not be meeting the horse or riding the horse. I had no right to assume her son was coming out. Her language and wording, quite frankly, were disturbing. Color me surprised, because she told me she was buying the horse for her son, and her son would be the only one riding her. I didn't think it was out of line to bring her son out to ride the horse to see if he clicked with the horse or liked the horse at all, because each person has a different relationship with each horse. I also thought it weird that you'd want to buy a horse for your son without your son riding it first.

I apologized and told her that I was under the impression that he'd be coming out, too, since the horse was for him. Again, she flipped out. She told me she made the decisions in the house. She chose a horse for her son, and if she brought the horse home and her son didn't like her, she'd just resell her. Her language was, again, disturbing and this raised a lot of red flags. No one wants to go through all of that trouble. If it was between just simply bringing your son out to ride the horse and see if he liked it, or coming out without him, buying the horse, having the kid hate it, and having to sell it again, which, of course, there's no guarantee you will, you're going to just bring your kid with you when you're already coming out. Something just felt wrong.

I told her that I was sorry, but that simply was not what I wanted for my horse. I wanted to sell her to a forever home, not have her go somewhere where they would be comfortable turning around and selling her if she didn't fit in with their home. Let me tell you, this lady ripped me a new one. She told me I had no say over what kind of home my horse went to and that I would show her the horse. I had no choice. She would like directions to the barn, which thankfully I had not given her yet, and she would be meeting me there at the set time. Complete with inappropriate and threatening language. I emailed her back again and thanked her for her business, but told her the horse was mine and it was my decision to do what I wished with the horse.

She emailed me back with another obscenity laden rant. I ignored her. She emailed me consistently up to the day we were to meet and after. I blocked her email, but she eventually turned me into the site saying that I was disinterested in selling my horse. I forwarded them her emails. They never said a word about it to me again.

It took me awhile to realize it, but after I thought it out, it occurred to me that she would have never reacted the way she had if she had a son. Some of the wording in her emails had made no sense before, but suddenly it all fell together. This woman was clearly looking to buy the horse for herself under the rouse that she had a son, and when I brought him up casually, as in I was looking forward to meeting him, that's when she lost her shit. There's no reason to lie to people or to act that way. I just don't get people sometimes.

So I guess the moral of the story is that I should just never try to sell things. Although I've gone through far more easy, issue free sales than I have gone through impossibly ridiculous ones, they're not the ones that make good stories. The normal ones are uneventful. I've learned over the years to take the ridiculous experiences in stride and laugh them off, and then share with as many people as possible.

I'm Sorry, Your Argument Is Invalid Due to Stupidity.

Just a short little story for today. I was encouraged to apply for social security benefits, seeing as my doctors haven't let me work in over three years. I had applied before but was denied, mostly due to the fact that the woman didn't pull most of my medical records before making her decision. Long story short, I got my denial letter today, which I expected. However, it was far more entertaining than I thought.

In my denial letter, each which was a seven page waste of a tree; I got two, I was told they were denying me since there is no medical evidence that I can't work. I'd be mad, but it's far too funny to be mad. Especially when my doctors are the ones that aren't allowing me to work and have filled out papers for the state and social security stating that I can not work and the reasons. The people who make these decisions are people who sit in an office and have no medical training. The irony there is just terrific. This is mean, but I hope one day if one of those workers becomes ill and their doctors tell them they can't work, one of their colleagues denies them social security because there's no evidence they can't come back to work. I think it would be sweet victory.