As Deep As a Parking Lot Puddle

My heart and prayers go out to everyone who was and is affected by the tornadoes. My prayers are with you and your families. I can't imagine the heartbreak and terror you've endured over the past few days, but my thoughts, as well as the thoughts of my readers and thousands, if not millions of people are with you. God bless.

My heart also goes out to Krista Dittmeyer's family. I am truly sorry for your loss, and I know this is not the way you wanted to bring her home, but she is permanently home now. Sometimes life takes things from us before we expect it, but I hope that your family finds a way to heal, and her little girl is able to move on with life remembering her mother loved her and never meant to leave her. Although this isn't the way I would have wished for you to find your daughter, in a way you are lucky that you haven't spent your lives wondering where she is and were able to have a finite answer. I'm sorry things turned out this way.

There is always someone out there who knows something, so if you do, I urge you to come forward. This family is suffering. They deserve answers, and their daughter deserves justice. She was a mother, a sister, a friend, and a daughter, whose life was taken before she had a chance to live it. If this was your friend or relative, wouldn't you hope someone had the strength to come forward for them?

And in other, less important news, I present you with the clusterfuck that is the following.

* So, I heard back from CD rack guy, just like I knew I would. This email confirmed that this guy is one of two things. One: He's a very poor troll, who is, possibly, new to the game. I, however, am not and appreciate a good troll, but not when I'm legitimately trying to sell something. Two: He is one of those people who makes you want to track down Bill Engvall just so you can have him personally tell the guy, "here's your sign," while handing him one. Since I like to take the Penelope Garcia stance toward the world, although I've been proven wrong time and time again, I choose to think it's the first one, which is why when I responded to his email, I did not get angry, point out his troubles with reading, or make a mockery of his lack of common sense; that would have just earned me an uncalled for and whatever discount and let the troll win. Instead, I did things in this order: laugh, respond, block, and delete all emails from said troll.

But I am getting ahead of myself. You all are probably wondering what the email said. Well, my fine furry friends, he emailed me at 7:30 this morning to ask me if he could pick the racks up today and if I'd (aka my mom) be in the office today, since he didn't want to pick them up where I lived, so we agreed that since my mom's work was in a closer town, he could pick them up there. Let's just start with the fact that today, again, was not a day I told him I was available, and move on to the fact that I asked him if he wanted to meet Wednesday post him asking me if I could still meet Tuesday (another day I did not tell him I was available on) and three times before that, and, after checking his email for a yes or no about Tuesday, he still didn't bother to get back to me until today, Friday. Nice move, douche. Apparently a simple yes or no was too tough and ignoring me until the day he wanted to meet which, again, was not a day I told him I could meet him, was more appropriate.

Also, he couldn't figure out he wanted to meet today before today? A lot of people are leaving or already have left for work at 7:30 and can't check their personal email at work, therefore not seeing it until they return home and the day is done. Maybe if he had let me know before today, we could have made arrangements. This guy clearly has problems and I wish him the best in life. Regardless, I answered him with a simple no, and then bid him adieu from my life via the block feature. Adults these days. This is why I don't give a meeting place address until we've confirmed a day. Bet me this guy would have just shown up anyway and then regaled me with a wah wah ranting email about how horrible I was for not showing up when I never said I could.

* Last night, my mom and I were sitting on the couch and minding our own business, while a cat meowed in the background. It was just a typical day at our house, until the cat jumped up on the couch and we turned to greet him. Me, the epitome of calm, cool, and unafraid, screamed like a girl and jumped off of the couch. In his mouth, our lovely cat was carrying a baby bunny that he had managed to get into the house. He then decided to lay it down on our other cat for some reason. My mom picked it up, and when I got up to help her lay it to rest, I found out the baby bunny was not only very alive, but also just fine; there wasn't any blood or a spot on it. I bent down to pet the quiet little creature and said, "Hello, little bunny." Just at that moment, the little bunny raised its little paw as if to say hi. I realize that was a coincidence, but let's pretend not. In honor of this, I decided to name the little bunny Konnichiwa. It's Japanese for hello. I also decided it was a girl. I didn't look first.

And, in case you're wondering, Konnichiwa was taken out and reunited with her little family. We were going to keep her until morning and then call a wildlife place to properly take care of her, because she was just standing there still as could be once we got her to safety, but then she hopped away like a little boss. Also, our kitties are not allowed out now. We want Konnichiwa and her family safe.

* Yesterday, I was starting to wonder if a retirement home hadn't come and recruited me. I thought about eating supper at four, playing canasta at five, and turning it at 5:30 or six, tops. Instead, I took a nap, ate a late dinner, skipped canasta, and spent the night watching The Game Show network. Yep, I'm now retirement home certified. If I stop writing on this blog, you know where to find me.

* Today, my mom's client called her because he couldn't find his garage door opener. My mom told him the last she had seen it, it was in the kitchen cupboard. He said he couldn't find it, and fearing that some creepy person had taken it in a walk through of the house, we made the almost half an hour trek down there. My mom got out of the car, me following, and then walked up to the kitchen, opened the drawer, and wouldn't you know it, but there it was. She showed him and he said he wasn't looking in that kitchen. There's only one kitchen in that house.

To be fair, there used to be a kitchen down in the basement, but it's not there anymore; it hasn't been for years. That's where he was checking, though, and he never bothered to check the actual kitchen. People amuse me.

* There's a website called A Bad Case of the Dates, which features bad dating stories from all over the place, as well as emails that people have received from dating sites. One email asked the reader / potential date, "If you had to pick another gender to be other than your current one, which would you pick?" I can't imagine why the person never responded to that email. I wasn't aware there were more than two genders, were you?

* I love the commercials for rosacea medication that basically say the medication could kill you as one of the side effects, while treating said rosacea, but you'd be a pretty beautiful corpse. I'm sorry, I'm not willing to die for pretty.

* We were watching a show where they were auctioning off Bernie Madoff's items. They said Bernie Madoff may not outlive his 150 year jail sentence. Gosh, I'd hope not, unless he found the Fountain of Youth, instead of created and executed a ponzi scheme.

* Original Becky's boyfriend is convinced that "a Jonas brother" is some kind of creepy person. He legitimately has no idea who they are, but he thinks they sound creepy. Obviously, I can see what she sees in him, because that's one big win.

* Do you remember me telling you all about the most evil, ugly bridesmaids dress on the planet? Hefty makes cups to match. Plastic ones, at that. The cups are prettier. The vote on that is unanimous.

* Original Becky and I were having a conversation about a movie about vagina dentata and centipedes. No one would believe that conversation unless they saw it. Unfortunately, Original Becky saw those movies. I did not.

* I love Dr. Phil. He says the darnedest things. He was filling in for Sharon Osbourne on The Talk and they were discussing who stayed up and watched the royal wedding and who didn't. One of the girls Tivo'd it and he says "If you watch it now, it's not like there's a spoiler alert. You know they went through with it."

In continuation, the girls kept talking bout the wedding. Dr Phil, who didn't get up to watch the wedding then says, "I got up at 8am and I've seen it ten times, so we're even." Yep, guys, that's all our television news and other channels have been about is showing the royal wedding over and over and over again. As happy as we all are for the lucky couple, we're not sure why we're seeing the wedding in repeat here, either.

In other, unrelated quotes, Dr. Phil also said, "Men are out of their dept in a parking lot puddle." Amen to that.

I think that about covers it for tonight.

The Big Kahunas With All the Moola Do Not Approve of This Post

Just a few notes about awesome things, before I get into non awesome things, like Craigslist people. I am feeling very comedic at the moment, so hopefully this post will offset the balance of the last one. These things are listed in no particular order other than awesome sauce.

* Greta Hayley has a secret talent that not even I was aware of until four days ago. She is a little boss at killing bugs. She killed three bugs in four days for me, and she did it with pizazz. The first bug was one of those stink bugs that flew down and landed on her paw. She looked at me, looked back at the stink bug, did it all over again, and then took her paw and whacked it one. Then, she looked at me again and I applauded her. I'm sorry if her bug killing talents offend anyone.

Second, there was some bee flying around in the kitchen. We could hear it from the living room. I got up to go into the kitchen and heard this little bark come out of Greta, and then a scurry and snapping sound. By the time I got to where she was, the bee was dead, and she was giving me this awfully proud look. If I could have high-fived her, I would have.

Third, I was trying to paint out on the porch, and there was this fly that was all up in my business. I have to think that fly knew that I had a paintbrush in my hands and couldn't attack him or her, so he or she thought he would just make up for every fly I've ever murdered by annoying me. Sure enough, he only got about two minutes in when Greta snapped her little jaw and then spit him back out again. She looked at me, I looked at her, and I had but one thing to say.

"Like a boss, Greta. Like a boss."

* I finally got Penelope Lola back. Penelope Lola is my car that has been un-drivable for a year and a half, until someone could finally figure out what was going on with it. Now I am a bit of a neatnik about my car, so imagine my horror when I had it returned to me after six months and found grease in places I didn't think grease could get into. I am literally going to have to take the rug scrubber down with the extension and scrub out the cloth seats of my car, the floor, and anything else with material covering it. Then, I'm going to have to scrub down every inch of the inside of my car with antibacterial wipes, and soap and water. And that's just the inside of my car. The outside is another horror, as instead of being tucked into her favorite garage, she had been left to sit outside for six months straight. Did I mention the inside of my car is tan and the outside silver? I am so screwed. And I'd be mad that it was that dirty, as opposed to just reasonably dirty, but he's the only one who figured out what was wrong with my car in a year and a half, so I kind of love him and therefore it's just funny.

Also, it's hard to hate a mechanic that tells kick-ass stories. Somehow we got into talking about lines of credit, and he was telling us that someone he knew had a workshop that was as big as his garage that he used just for woodworking, which was his hobby. His entire workshop, workbench, to outdoor supplies such as lawn mowers that were stored in there, were all from Sears and all Sears brand. This is a man who bled for Sears. For all intents and purposes, he would have a love affair with Sears if it was legal. So one day he was in the store, buying his Sears stuff and minding his own business, when an employee told him that if he went on ahead and got a Sears card that he could save some money on his purchases. Delighted and feeling as if he already owned half the store, he decided to go ahead and get a Sears credit card. He was denied.

* Is it possible to feel bad for someone's hair, because you know that no hair is supposed to look like that and imagine the torture it's been through in order to be made that way? Because I do feel bad for someone's hair, and I'm just making sure that's totally sane. Hint: It's not.

* I am still being stalked by my dentist. Well, not him specifically and not his office itself, but the girls who work there and insist I have to get my teeth cleaned right now. I've told them numerous times to chill out, that I'm going through some stuff with my migraines and medication adjustments, and that right now getting my teeth cleaned is the least of my worries. It hasn't stopped them, and when they have someone cancel, they somehow think it appropriate to call me and see if I want the appointment. It amuses me that they think I'm going to say something different each time they call. Also, my doctors said I do not need to take a pre-med before I get my teeth cleaned, but the the dentist won't allow me to get my teeth cleaned without one, and the kind of pre-med they want me to take actually exacerbates migraines. We've got a whole lot of fail going on here.

* I wrote an email where I had to reiterate that someone was 34 years old...in people years. Not dog years, people years. It's sad when that disclaimer is necessary.

* On one of the local home listings my mom was sifting through, under selling points it stated, "Neighbor has new tin roof." We're still not sure how that's a selling point.

* I was watching Say Yes to the Dress today and some girl said that she was Persian, which made her just like the Kardashians, but prettier. I decided it necessary to talk to the TV and tell her the Kardashians are Armenian. I don't know if I should be proud I know that or embarrassed, so let's just meet somewhere in between.

* I know I've mentioned before that I don't care for the character of Ashley Seaver on Criminal Minds, but I love Rachel Nichols. Love. Her Twitter is the source of much amusement for me, and I think I want to adopt her as my best friend, but since that's both impossible and creepy, I'll pass. Two of my favorite tweets by her are as follows:

RachelNichols1
Dear GymBoy: The boobs are mine. Your eyes seem to be attempting theft. It doesn't matter how long you stare...they won't abandon my ship!

Rachel Nichols
Dear Neighbors-Playing-Techno, I will unforgivingly toilet-paper your house and egg the cars in front if this continues. You've been warned.

Considering she hates her neighbors and their ridiculous loudness, and we hate ours for the same reason, I'm pretty sure she and I would be perfect neighbors. Either way, follow her on Twitter. I promise if you like this blog that you will love her, and you don't even have to like her character on Criminal Minds, but please be nice to her. She's very talented and has no control over writing her own character, so it's not her fault, guys. Even Thomas Gibson thinks you should be nice to her, and he's actually on the show.

All of that was more awesome than I was prepared for, but I'm still going to go ahead with the original post. As I've mentioned a ludicrous amount of times before, people on Craigslist are crazy, so much so that I've made a tag for them on the blog. Not all of them, mind you, but a vast majority. For the years I've been selling on there and complaining about people, I realized one thing; clearly I am the true moron here, because I keep posting on there. Sue me, but I want to get things sold, and that used to happen, but now it's just a whole lot of idiots that never pan out, show up, or come with the correct type of payment or amount of money. It's like nobody can read anymore, and it's getting crazy up in there, folks. That being said, I've come to you with more stories about my endeavors in selling.

I'll start you out gentle, because the last two stories are whoppers, so I'll work you into this. The first lady I'd like to tell you about was a lady who was interested in one of my horse items. She emailed me and wanted to know if the item was still available, because she just had to have it. I told her that it was and never heard back from her. I guess she just enjoyed sounding desperate, but really didn't need to have it at all. Or maybe she was one of those people who thinks if they tell you that they have to have it, you'll lower the price, and when you don't, they either go away or fight with you. (I've seen this far too many times.) It may forever remain a mystery.

The next person was a guy, and I'm really not sure where the comprehension problem was, or if he's one of those delightful telemarketers that you can never understand and know they're from a land far, far away, but has a very American name, in his spare time. He wanted CD stands that I was selling and asked me for the measurements of them and when we could meet so he could pick them up, as all my ads state that the person is responsible for pickup or shipping costs. I emailed him back with both of these things. I received two more emails from him asking when we could meet, but the first one of those stated that the sizes were perfect and he wanted them. Therefore, he had read the email with the measurements, that had also included the days and times for the next week that I could meet him, but missed the days and times. I sent it to him again, and still got a third email asking me the same question. I gave him one more chance and figured if he asked me again, I was just done dealing with stupid. I didn't hear from him again.

That was, at least, until Monday of this week, four days later. Two of the days I had told him I could meet him were Monday morning and Wednesday. This was now Monday afternoon, so obviously Monday was no longer an option. In the email he said he would meet me Tuesday, if that was still okay. Tuesday was never okay. Tuesday was never a day I gave him the option of meeting me on, and he even asked me three times what days I could meet him. I emailed him back right away and resisted saying, "Hey, you idiot, learn to read if you're going to ask me the same thing three times," and instead ate humble pie and apologized, telling him I could not meet Tuesday, but that I could meet him Wednesday. If you're counting, this is the fourth time I've told him I could meet him Wednesday, and the fourth time I reiterated what days I could meet him. I've not heard back from him yet.

He's not the only person who has been a pain in the ass over fourteen dollars in CD racks, yes, racks, as in plural, so I'm selling them super cheap. Another guy wanted to know if I could bring them to him over an hour away, despite me listing otherwise in the ad. Delete. But I think what was spectacular about this dude was not only the fact that he made me question is reading skills, but the fact that if he was planning on meeting me Tuesday, he had to have checked his email between Monday and Tuesday to see if I agreed to it and for me to give him the address of the meeting place, as I never do that until I have a day locked down. People are just too crazy for me to feel safe doing that before then. Either way, this guy either never checked his email and wouldn't have shown up Tuesday, leaving me waiting for him, or he did check it and didn't feel it important enough to let me know if he could do Wednesday or not. I have a feeling I haven't heard the last of him, but I'm just done dealing with him. We're going to have a yard sale soon, and CD racks almost always go. I can't put any more energy into stupid for fourteen bucks, nor can I trust this guy to show up if we do lock down a date. I don't even think he knows what he's doing. Maybe I should pray for him and his poor mind?

As for these next two stories, I'm not really sure which one is worse and which person's tree goes the least of the way to the top, but I do know which one makes me angry and which one makes me laugh. I'll let you guys figure out which is which.

This one comes not from Craigslist, but from a site where you specifically sell horse tack. Since that's primarily what I'm selling, with the exception of the CD racks, I thought it smart to put the stuff on there. Plus, I've sold stuff through there before with minimal problems, however, horse people are exponentially weirder than regular people. If you're a horse person, I'm sorry, but don't deny it. I, myself, have been a horse person and am well aware of the atmosphere. Hell, I'm sure people looked at me several times and said, "what a moronic horse person," so it's fine. We're all friends here.

One of the items I had posted complete with a picture was a red winter horse blanket. This lady emails me and asks me what color the blanket was, despite the picture. I rolled my eyes, but since she couldn't see me do it, I simply answered her and moved on with my day. I didn't hear from her for several days, but then one day I got an email from her asking me if she could have a picture of the blanket. As I said, the ad contained said picture, so I was just composing an email to her telling her to please refer to the ad, when she wrote me again and told me to "Never mind. I want a blue blanket." I'll just give you a minute to face palm before I elaborate. Go ahead. It's okay. I did it, too.

What makes this story particularly interesting to me is that the person could have answered their own question and not had to go through all of this by just paying attention to the ad itself. But even though, I am selling an expensive blanket for 28% of the price. It was used once very briefly and isn't dirty or anything. It's in like-new condition. Winter horse blankets are also never seen by anyone but the people at the barn, for the most part. Look, I know some people are awfully picky about what color of stuff they want, and I get that, but if you're getting something for 28% of the cost in like-new condition, and no one else is really going to see it, does the color really matter? Oh well, at least she wasn't one of those people who asked me if they could get it cheaper since they didn't like the color, or if I could change the color, or if I had another one in a different color that they could have cheaper since I caused them distress by not posting one in their color. I'm not a store. I make that disclaimer on every ad, but still this happens to me with nearly every item. It's a hard knock life.

This story is definitely in my top five stories of crazy Craigslist people. It's very close to number one, too, right behind the lady who told me she wanted to buy my horse for her kid, but she never actually had a kid. I'm still confused over that one, but it's fine. Moving on to this lady. I got an email from someone who was interested in the chaps I had for sale. In the ad, I posted the size of them, plus my own height and weight so that people could get an idea of who they will and will not fit. With chaps, there's no wiggle room. They either fit or don't.

When this girl first emailed me, something about her wording threw me off, but who am I to judge someone just because they speak differently from me? Still, I thought something was up, but I put that suspicion aside and answered her back. Folks, never put that suspicion aside on Craigslist. Never. Ever. Never. I can't say that enough.

Nothing odd popped up other than that in our correspondence, so I thought things were fine, and she was interested in buying them, but then I didn't hear from her again. This happens all the time, so I shrugged it off and went on with life. Easter Sunday, I heard back from her. Her email said this exactly. "R these still avail? Call me if they r," and then there was her phone number, which I'm tempted to not remit, but would like to think I'm not that big of a jerk.

Another thing I've learned on Craigslist is to never, ever give someone your phone number unless there's an item that you can not remove from the house to meet them in the safety of a public place, and they must come to your house. Then, you have to give them your phone number in case they get lost. Otherwise, you're just asking for people to call you repeatedly about your item, and goodness be you tell them that you will not take the ridiculously low price they've offered, because then they will just call you more and try to harass you into allowing them to buy the item for two cents on the dollar. It's just not a good idea. Plus, when you already have the internet, it's useless to waste cell phone minutes explaining to someone where they are going, because God forbid they'd use mapquest, or if they agree to do that, you usually end up repeating your address to them twenty times anyway. The internet is just easier for that sort of thing. And obviously, if they emailed me about the item, they can function their way through email.

That being said, I emailed her back and just politely explained to her that I did not make phone calls or give out my number unless absolutely necessary, due to previous issues on Craigslist, but would be happy to email her anything she needed. The email I got back was an absolute rant in text speak, wherein she very finitely told me that I would basically be calling her and would not be emailing her anymore, end of story. I would not, especially not after that, because she was quickly proving my point about why it's a bad idea to give people on Craigslist your number. You can block an email, but my cell phone service provider does not give me that same option.

Now, that original sneaking suspicion was crawling back into my veins. It wasn't just her wording or her lack of being able to spell anything out, but it was the tone of the email, and the defiant, fussy attitude of a teenager that struck me odd about her and made me suspect something was up. Not only that, but prior to then she had been just fine emailing me back and forth, but now, all of a sudden she was telling me that "You can not email me anymore and have to call me." Upset at her language and, quite frankly, her teenage angst behavior, I nicely wrote her back and told her that I was sorry, but I would absolutely not be calling her, especially not after that email, and that if she wanted to meet me, I could meet her on these days at these locations, if that would make it easier for her. All she had to do was pick where and when. Even after I sent the email, something didn't sit right with me.

Up until this point, I had not paid attention to her email address, mostly because her name was attached to the email, so every time an email came through, it came through with her name attached. This is when I decided to look at the email address that was next to her name inside of the email, and that's when I had a good idea of what was going on and flashbacks of previous catastrophes of selling horse items came back to me. I haven't sold anything of the horse persuasion in a few years, so I had nearly forgotten about how many young kids would email me, and the tone of their emails was very specific, as was the way they typed, spelled, etc., and I knew then that was what was striking me funny about this girl. I was subconsciously having a flashback of the other issues I had gone through with kids, but couldn't quite grasp it at the surface. The fact that her email was practically ILuvJustinBieber4evas (but not actually that), gave it away.

Armed with her full name (and an extremely unusual last name at that), email address and phone number, I looked her up on Facebook. It took me about five seconds to find her. And, you guessed it, she was some mouthy little teenager, too young to even drive to pick up said chaps. Here's where I'd like to put a disclaimer. I'm well aware not all teenagers are mouthy, in fact, most aren't, but this one is, and many of the ones I've dealt with through selling things have been.(I had one who was just fantastic, so fantastic, in fact, that I did give her a break on the price, and she continue to contact me and let me know how much she was appreciating the item for almost a year after.) They usually like to try to get me to give them a cheaper price, and by cheap, we're talking less than half of what I'm asking, and when I won't, I get obscenity laden emails full of whining and insults from them. They tell me that it's not okay to charge a teenager that much. What gets me is that apparently it's okay for them to expect me to give them a break because they're a teenager and rip myself off. But I digress. I also want to say that I know teenagers have parents that could drive them to pick something up, but when I went back over her emails and perused her Facebook page, I was able to put together a little story about what exactly had gone down from her first email to her last.

Teenager sees ad for chaps and wants the chaps, so she emails me about them without asking the Big Kahunas With All the Moola. However, the Big Kahunas, BK for short (must stop thinking about Burger King), closely monitor her web activity and saw she was emailing someone about buying something without consulting them first. They told her she could not have the chaps, enter her emails to me stopping. Then Easter came around and good ole' grandma gave teenager money, so she thought she was going to pull a fast one on parents and use it for the chaps before they realized, even though her money was promised to parents to be used for something else. This is where her plan confuses me, because if her parents monitor her emails, I'm not sure how she thought emailing me again and telling me to call her if the item was still available was going to slide under her parents radar. Your guess is as good as mine, because I don't understand how teenage minds work. Either way, that was her plan, only, when I couldn't call her and emailed her instead, that's when she went off on a rant of teenage proportions and told me I could no longer email her and HAD to call her. I'm going off of her Facebook page, which has painted me this beautiful picture, however, it's left me without certain details, such as how she was planning on meeting me to get the chaps without her parents driving her or knowing, or why she thought they weren't going to see her master plan all over her Facebook page, but that's neither here nor there. The only thing I do get is that she could hide my number under a friend's name and since it was a cell number, her parents couldn't listen in on the conversation like they could monitor emails.

Because I'm the nice person that I am and never do anything like take the side of parents when I think they might like to know that their kid was pulling one over on them, I emailed her back. Yeah, I know, but I still didn't think what she was doing was really all that cute. I very nicely let her know that since she had willfully provided me with her full name, her email address and a phone number, I was easily able to Facebook her and therefore knew her master plan, and that she was barely a teenager and not supposed to even be emailing me about the chaps at all. I told her I thought it was rude and disrespectful to waste my time, and being an adult myself, I wouldn't have put up with her for two seconds once I found out she was pulling something, which is exactly what had happened. Then I told her a little bit about how much I didn't appreciate the language she used with me and what not, and then said hi to her parents and that I trusted they would deal with her. Unnecessary because she was digging her own grave with all those gaping holes in her plans? Most likely, but I just thought her parents would appreciate me laying out exactly what she had tried to pull, that I knew, and that I didn't appreciate it. I've learned it's one thing when kids disrespect their parents, but another when they do it to the parents and another person. So kids, if you're going to try to pull one over on someone trying to honestly sell something, don't swear at them, act suspicious, then give them enough information so that they can look up your Facebook account, and don't put your whole life all over it. It ruins your poorly laid out plan.

But in all of that, I think the funniest thing about all of this is probably the thing that's not going to come out right. As I mentioned, I put the size of the chaps, as well as my own height and weight so that everyone knew what to expect in sizing. This girl was easily seventy five pounds heavier than me. Easily. I say this not to be rude, but because I am not sure how she saw the sizing and still thought she was going to fit in the chaps. They're suede with a zipper, so there's no give in them at all. She had mentioned wanting to try them on to make sure they fit in one of her emails, which is completely normal, but I would have been seriously p-i-s-s-e-d if I took the time to meet with her to find that she either had delusions of grandeur about her size, or didn't read the sizing at all, because I wouldn't have even been able to let her try them on.

People, I just don't get 'em. Can anyone explain them to me? I'll send you homemade fudge if you can. No joke.

For Those Who Are Missed and Those Who Are Loved

First of all, Happy Belated Easter to those who celebrate! I wish I had an awesome little post with cute bunnies to insert here, but other things have kept me occupied lately, so I apologize for my fail.

Instead of my resident blog post for tonight, I would like to address a few very important things. I'm not talking about the what color nail polish should I wear kind of important, but things that are actually important to everyone with feelings. I know you wouldn't be here if you didn't have feelings, right? Right.

First of all, I want to thank the anonymous reader who commented on my Chicken Soup For the Heartbroken Soul post. You are very welcome for that post, and I am grateful that you are so kind as to read it. I hope whatever you are going through will only make you a stronger, more amazing you.

Second, I am appealing to my readers from everywhere and hope that this post reaches the right people. I don't know who will see this, but I pray that someone, somewhere will and will be able to help. If you've been with me on this blog for awhile, you know about the gift that I have. That being said, missing persons cases affect me very deeply, especially when they are young girls like myself. Even when I know I can help, I don't know how to approach the police without making myself look suspicious, so this is where I ask for your help. There are three separate cases right now that are particularly disturbing to me, and I'm hoping that someone out there knows something and will see this and go to the police. Every missing persons case is important, and I am not saying that these girls are more important than anyone else who is missing, be it boy, girl, man or woman. I am also not saying whether I feel these girls are dead or alive, only stating the facts laid out in media reports that you can easily gain access to. These girls are sisters, cousins, aunts, nieces and daughters. Some are even mothers. They are all missing, and people are missing them.

Holly Bobo's disappearance has been all over the news the past few weeks. She is the cousin to country singer Whitney Duncan. She was taken into the woods from her home in Parsons, Tennessee by and unidentified man and hasn't been seen since. People have been tirelessly searching for her to no avail, and there have been prayer vigils held in hopes that God will hear their prayers, and she will be found alive. If you know anything about her whereabouts, please contact the number listed in the linked article. If you know something and are afraid, there is a hefty reward for information leading to locating her, so please, if that's what it takes to motivate you to contact the right people, use it.

Alivia Christine Kail has been mentioned in a former post, but she is still missing. She was said to be going to Florida with her boyfriend, but instead turned up missing. No one knows if she made it to Florida, or where she is. What they do know is that the boyfriend never made it out of state and has since been arrested on unrelated charges. She could be anywhere. People do not just vanish without a trace, and her family deserves a chance to know what happened to her. Please call the number in the linked article if you know anything about her whereabouts. Even if you've seen her and know she's okay, but she doesn't want to come home, just make the call. Her family deserves to have their suffering ended and know that she's out there somewhere, and she's okay. You don't even have to say where she is if you don't want to. Just please do something. Imagine how you would feel if this was your little girl, your friend, or your sister.

Paige Johnson has been missing for much longer than the first two girls, who both went missing in a similar time period. Seven months is too long to not know what happened to someone you love and care about. This girl is a mother, and her child deserves to know her mom. There's been a lot of inconsistencies, dead ends and wrong turns in this case, so I urge you to click on the link and watch the video, instead of having me try to explain all that's happened. This girl deserves to be treated with respect, and her family deserves to know where she is. If you can help, again, please call the number in the link. It would mean the world to someone.

All of these girls deserve as much attention as possible, and deserve to be brought home, regardless of if they will be coming home in the way the families are praying for or not. The families deserve answers. Maybe I sound like a hypocrite, because I feel like I can help and am afraid of getting arrested if I try. There's still a lot of people who don't believe in what I do, and I respect that. With that in mind, if anyone sees this who is involved in any of these cases and believes in what I do, I am always happy to help as much as I can, because it breaks my heart that these women are missing and you have no answers. That goes for anyone else who is looking for help with a missing persons case. I don't want money; that's not what I do. I would never take money from anyone, because I was given this gift for a reason and it's not to take advantage of people who are in the worst times of their lives and just want answers about their loved ones. I can't promise you that I can give you the answers you need, because the truth is, even a psychic medium doesn't know everything, but I do promise that I will try my best to help bring you answers and peace about your loved one. My contact information is on my Blogger profile if you are feel the need to seek my help.

And for those of you who have not been following my blog for long, but are still interested in my help, I want to also make another fact about myself clear, just in case you are unaware of this. Because I believe in being up front, my real name is not Cassadee Willows, which I've mentioned before. I promise that I am not trying to be the least bit shady about anything, but I have a crazy, volatile father out there in this world somewhere, and I have taken extensive measures to depart from my real name in order to make sure that he doesn't find me. If you do email me, I am always willing to give out my real name to anyone seeking help, but just choose not to do it publicly for that reason.

Last, but not least on my list of important things, I am just absolutely sickened and mortified by what is going on in Long Island, New York. I hope that there are not more bodies, and I also hope that all the parents who are waiting in fear, wondering if it's their daughter they will find next, won't have to have their hearts broken any more then they already have been. I know there's a lot of people who are looking at this case and not giving it the compassion it deserves because of the line of business some of these girls were in. That doesn't matter. These girls are human, and they don't deserve to be treated less than because of the way they lived their lives, and it certainly gives no one a right to take theirs from them. No one but themselves, and possibly their nearest and dearest know why they chose to live the life they did, but I believe they were doing what they had to, to get by and don't deserve to be judged for that.

I also know not all of you are religious, so I'm not going to preach, but I will say that in my line of work, I've realized that God has a plan for everyone, and although lives are often cut short, none are taken too soon in the grand scheme of things. A lot of the girls who die young go on to protect people in their afterlife with compassion and perseverance like I've never seen in the living. I guess what I'm trying to say is that some people just have a greater purpose, although it is never fair, and it never will be, to have someone you love ripped from you so quickly and so young. My heart goes out to you, and I hope all of you will find the answers you're looking for.

I will be back to being my snarky self in the next post, complete with stories full of annoyance and laughter specifically aimed at people on Craigslist. I've finally realized the problem; it's me. It is so clearly me, because I know how dumb people are on Craigslist (not all, but an overwhelmingly large portion) and yet I'm even dumber, because I keep posting on there. So I get it. It's ironic, yeah?

Chlorine Will Never Help This Lady's Gene Pool

Ladies and, well, mostly ladies, but if there's any gentleman, throw your hands up and let me know, because I've got a story for you all. Do you know how every time I have to sell something on Craigslist I have a story, and inevitably, each time I'm convinced I've met the biggest idiot on there? Well, today I found out I was wrong. Every single time, I was dead wrong.

While going through some things in the garage, we found a ton of horse tack that needed sold. Enter Craigslist and me immediately wanting to hurt someone before I even posted the stuff. I also had a few CD racks I wanted to sell, so I thought I'd post them, too. Below is a copy of the ad plus the picture; click to enlarge.

I have four CD storage units that I am selling separately or as one unit. From left to right, prices and information are as follows.

Fellows brand, holds approximately 100 CDs. Asking $6
Alpha brand, holds approximately 45 CDs. Asking $4
Holds approximately 28 CDs. Asking $3
Alpha Brand, holds approximately 120 CDs. Asking $8
Or all for $18.

Cash only on pickup. First come first served. Email me for more information or if you are interested in the items.

Simple enough, right? Then this lady emailed me, and before you read it, I warn you that I've shown this to a half a dozen people, and they can't figure out what's wrong with this lady other than two things that are very clear; she shouldn't be driving to pick this up from me because her tree doesn't go the whole way to the top, and she needs an award for biggest Craigslist asshole. Also, the racks she's inquiring about are the second from the left and the one to the far right. These emails have in no way been edited.

Hi,

Are the two Alpha stands matching?
I would like to purchase both of them if they are still available.

I am in North Huntingdon...........
Please let me know
Thank you.

Let me be honest, I have no idea what she's asking me when she's asking me if they match. I mean, they're the same brand and the exact same type of stand, only one is bigger and has more compartments, so yes, they match. I'm not alone in being confused by this, right? So this is what I emailed her back.

Hello,
They were bought separately, but yes, they do match. They are both still available.

Idiotically, I thought we had this taken care of, but obviously I was unaware of the stupidity that was this woman. It's strong with this one. She sends me this back.

I think I know what the look like ~ but can you send me
a better picture of one of them?

Also, when and where would I be able to pick them up?
Thanks.

At this point, I wanted to reach through the screen and slap this bitch of a woman in a face. There was no need to be snarky. But then I realized that this lady also has no idea what she's asking me. If she can see what they look like, then WHY IN THE HELL IS SHE ASKING ME IF THEY MATCH? I have no idea what she's asking me. I can't express that enough. Therefore, she got this response.

I apologize, but these are the only pictures I have.

Come on, I was not about to go back down to the garage, pull out the stands, and take more pictures when this lady had not a clue in her brain of, well, anything, including what she was talking about. Not to mention, I hardly want this lady at my house. Thank the good Lord in heaven that she did not email me back.

I'm sure I will have more stories, as we've just begun to scratch the surface of what I have for sale. I'll be sure to keep you updated if she gets back to me, but I guarantee you I'm done dealing with her. I'll give the things to Habitat For Humanity Restore before I'll deal with her.

A Special Kind of Special

I promised Twitter pics, and now I am delivering. I'm a little slow these days. Between us losing our power twice in twenty four hours, after waiting nineteen hours to get it back on, and crazy tech people who tell us we need to turn off our modem in order to be on the internet, it's been a pretty special weekend. I use the term special loosely.

This is Stitch. I didn't realize Stitch thought he was a dog, but as soon as I watched him imitating Greta Hayley's signature sleeping position, I immediately started to scratch his tummy. He enjoyed it. We have a lot of animals with identity crisis in these parts. Must be something in the water.

While Stitch was busy stealing Greta's signature sleeping position, she stole his. It was backwards night. Freaky Friday, if you will.

Paramore decided that she wanted to have her own signature sleeping position that was somewhere in between what Stitch and Greta Hayley were doing. She even threw her paw up for extra emphasis. *Fist bump*

Confused by all the changing sleeping positions, Greta decided to find a new one. It didn't last long, but she was happy, if but for a little while.


Play would make an awesome mobster. He always has that, "who you looking at, punk?" look on his face. Greta ignores him from the floor.

Pie-Pie kitty much enjoys sleeping like this. We're not sure how she's made it a full thirteen years, but at best guess she's a zombie, we just missed the death part of it all. She's holding up pretty well for the undead, yeah?

This is Scamper. This is our point of view of Scamper. At least once a night, this is exactly what we see. Add Blackberry camera function and click. Voila!

Play kitty high five! Better than any high five a human can give.

When we first adopted Helena, it was as a friend for our dog, Leo, whose little friends had passed on. We painstakingly took Leo to shelter after shelter to find him a friend. He picked her. We got him home, and he thought she was pretty okay, but he didn't do much in the way of playing with her. After a few months, you could nearly hear her yelling "LAME!" every time she went outside and Leo lazily walked past her. We decided she needed a friend, enter Greta Hayley. I'm not sure if they like each other...

This is Helena's, "I didn't do it," face. She always seems upset that we don't believe her.

Greta Hayley has recently decided that she can not live without her near and dear friend, Mr. Moose. Apparently he makes a pretty good pillow, too. Now that's friendship!

Greta doesn't just keep her friendship between other dogs and inanimate objects, she loves cats, too. Either that, or she was asleep and Lila moved up on her. It's hard telling in this house.

Mr. Moose also isn't the only inanimate object that Greta loves. She loves Feroc the Lion, too.

Prepare for Greta's signature pose that Stitch took much joy in stealing. This is the beginning of it...

and this is how it ends.

This is the elusive Sophie kitty. Sophie feels she is the most beautiful, rare creature in the world. She comes out about once every millennium to grace us with her presence, and only when she feels we are worthy. I feel I may have invaded her privacy by putting her on film, but it was for the greater good. Someone has to study this creature.

Paramore is otherwise known as Dryer Kitty. Dryer Kitty wants to know why we have to kick her out and use it to, you know, dry clothes and stuff.

Stinky, Stinky, What Is That Stinky?

This really doesn't concern anyone but me, though I thought I'd share anyway. There is a smell in my room. We're not talking about a little smell, but a smell that can only be described as sixty little field mice and their leader bathing in cayenne pepper for a month, dying, coming back to life, bathing in more cayenne pepper, and then dying again. It doesn't really smell like death, just like a lot of cayenne pepper. I just wanted to be dramatic. And it smells nowhere else but in my room.

Here's the events that led up to the smell, in case you can help me out with it. There was no smell all day. Well, I mean, everything has a smell, and my room simply smelled like my room. This being as it may, I went in and got a bath. I used nothing unusual in the bath, just the stuff I normally used, got dressed, came out to the living room, went back in my room about an hour later and BAM! Stink city.

Now one would assume it was something I bathed in, but I bathe in the same things all the time and have never had the smell. I removed all my smelly clothes that needed washed, just in case, and I've even removed the dog cookies, which, to be fair, are a bit smelly, although this doesn't smell like them. I've checked outside and nada, thus why I opened the windows in the slightly balls cold weather. I did change epsom salts, though, but epsom salt is epsom salt, right? Plus, it doesn't smell all that much in my bathroom. I'm going to go and check while I'm thinking of it. You all just wait here.

Okay, so I've gone and checked the epsom salts and they don't smell any differently than I had expected. However, irregardless the smell is not leaving. Whether I'll be able to sleep in there is yet to be determined. The smell makes me sick. I know this is fascinating breaking news, so I'll keep you all updated.

The Oompa Loompa Bridesmaidzilla

I think back on my life and all I've been through, and realize it's not normal. Everyone has their hardships, and I'm hardly saying my life compares to the tragedy that a lot of people are feeling and experiencing. I wouldn't trade a moment of what I've been through for anything, because it's all been a learning process. If I could have anything be different, I would only want for my grandfather to still be here with me. There's nothing I've done or have had happen that I regret so much that I'd want to take it all back.

There is never going to be an easy path to take in life. Even for those people with everything handed to them on a silver platter, you don't know their life. Maybe they seem like they have it all, but friend them, and you'll often find out they don't. There's always those few lucky little jerks who truly do just have the best darn luck, but I guess that's not really their fault, so I won't go on a random rant blaming them and plotting to steal all their luck. I'm sure that would not only be impossible, but lose me some karma points.

There are days where you will find the right thing to do is far from the easiest, but please don't cave. You're worth more than that. There will be paths that tempt you to cave along the way, especially in this day and age with all the social networking and what not. It makes for too easy access to things. But don't be pulled in, because it's not worth it. Regret is the worst roommate you can live with. They just sit around, nagging you all the time, bringing you down, and they don't cook their own food or clean up the bathroom when they inevitably miss. Losers.

What I'm trying to say is to just stay strong. There will always be that song on the radio that will make you cry, regardless of your mood. There will always be those days that remind you of something or someone that is responsible for your scars. There will always be an always, and that's when it's okay to pair it with a never. Never turn your back on yourself and know that part of living is feeling everything, so let yourself feel it. It's okay to have walls, hell, I'm the queen of them, but that doesn't mean you have to keep them from doing what is best for you, as long as you do it in a responsible way. You are amazing, so just be amazing you. Being anybody else just isn't worth it.

And now that I've gotten the heartfelt, advice giving part of this blog out of the way, I don't want to bring down the room too much. I feel like sometimes I give speeches, and that's not my intention. Therefore, I shall grace you with things I've learned and weird shit that has happened, and I felt it necessary to post on Twitter. It's like my little reminder log of crap I want to talk about on my blog. I will do a post of just pictures later, because boy do I love my Twitter pictures. For those of you who follow me on Twitter, all those weird posts will now be explained. I'm sorry in advance.

Also, I've been a bit absent because I am busy as all heck writing that novel and working on some stories for my amazing online readers. My head, it's going to explode. I'm sure this blog will reflect that with my schizo thoughts from Twitter, which is an accomplishment, considering I am not schizo. But without further ado...

* For those of you who watch Ghost Adventures, am I the only one who thinks they need a female to go with them? They are afraid of the weirdest stuff. If a woman were there, the men would be running down the hall, while the woman stood there, confused and befuddled about why three large men are running from some little banging noise in the dark. They're grown men. Shouldn't they know all about banging noises in the dark? I mean, I love the show and all, but as someone who deals with the paranormal on a daily basis, I think I'm qualified to laugh a little, right?

* For years we've joked that Gary Busey must have some kind of head injury to act that messed up. Turns out he really does. Who knew? Now I feel like a jerk. An unintentionally and slightly snarky correct jerk, but a jerk anyway.

* Show of hands, how many of you saw Bringing Ashley Home? Oh, wait, it's the internet, I can't see your hands. Put them down. I know my readers and you all put your hands up. Aww, that's why I love you all. Anyway, wasn't it an amazing movie? Such a heartbreaking true story, yeah? Plus, why is it that AJ Cook is so classy and amazing in everything she does? She can come back to Criminal Minds anytime now. Stupid people who decided not to renew her contract, I do not like you. Why you no let AJ stay?

On the same note, check out Outpost For Hope, which was started by the real Libba Phillips when her sister Ashley went missing.

* Team Chelsea! What am I talking about, you ask? Dancing With the Stars, of course. Most people don't know Chelsea Kane, but being the twenty-five-year-old sixteen-year-old that I am, I've adored her for years as Chelsea Staub on the Disney Channel. I'm all kinds of rooting for her talented little self. How about you guys? Any favorites? Or am I really the only one in my age group that watches it? Because that seems to be the consensus. I'm okay with being that lame.

* On the same note, I love Kirstie Alley and sadly expected her to not be all that great, but she is awesome and rocking it! You go, girl!

* I have a rockin' bridesmaid story for y'all. A few weeks back, I went with my friend and two of her other friends to help her pick out a bridesmaid dress for a wedding. This is kind of one of those stories within a story, because the bride initially told her she could get any shorter styled dress she wanted as long as it was in the color Guava. Then the bride reneged and told her she had to get this certain dress that was expensive and looked like the eighties threw up on it and didn't fit anyone correctly. With a little bit of back and forth, the bride went back to her original thought. Enter us dress shopping.

Somehow it came about that the bride decided at the last minute that she wanted the same monstrosity of a dress again for all the girls. My friend, being the good little seasoned bridesmaid that she is and trying to beat out Catherine Heigl for the new girl of 27 Dresses, she decided she could make this work. Then she put the dress on. You guys, there are no words to describe how horrendous this dress was on. It was truly one of those that looked one hundred times more putrid on the person than on the hanger, and how many times does that happen, really? Not only was it obvious that the dress was made extremely on the cheap and poorly, having little plastic sparkles on it instead of beads, but I'm not sure who they made it to fit. It was an unusual length, the waist cut off right at the va-jay-jay, which is just disgustingly strange, had no boob support, but dipped really low in the back so there was no way you could wear a bra. And it just fit funny. Even with alterations, there wasn't a lot they could do to correct it because it was put together so poorly. And they wanted over a hundred bucks for this piece of junk...well over.

We took a picture of her in the dress and sent it to the bride and everyone else we could think of, including our moms. Everyone was hysterical over how bad this thing was; that's right, it wasn't even a dress, just a thing. The bride, however, thought it looked fine. To prove that it looked awful on everyone, we had three people of drastically different sizes with us that day, and one girl who was the same size as the bridesmaid. The two of us that were different sizes also went and put on the dress. We looked like a swarm of clown-like Oompa Loompas, and please just tell me how hard that is to accomplish, because trust me honey, Oompa Loompa is not an easy thing to be. The bride still insisted they were fine. We insisted we invent a Bridesmaidzilla, but my friend handled it with poise and grace, even though we were fuming enough for eight people, because now we were in the dresses to prove a point. Apparently the point ended up being that the bride was blind.

This brought on possibly the strangest and most gobsmacked two hours one could have imagined. It started in phone calls to the bride, then to the bride's stepmother, and then in the bride calling the stepmother and hanging up on both her and my friend. It ended in my friend no longer being in the wedding by choice. She was given the ultimatum, buy the dress or get out. The dresses were so bad and the bride so badly behaved over several things that had nothing to do with the dress, that so many weeks later she's still sure she made the right decision.

* I decided that if I continue to be as tired as I've been since my crappy medication messed me up, that I will have no other choice than to declare that the retirement home is trying to recruit me. I'm just not ready to go there yet.

* I came home the night after the bridesmaid dress debacle, being recruited to the old folk's home and found that Aunt Bev was here. She and my mom were filling out papers for a mobile medical check that they were going to go to. My mom filled out her end of the paperwork and handed it to Aunt Bev, who was going to send it in. Aunt Bev proceeds to read the following.

"Birth date: December 1, 2011. You're not even alive yet!"

And I wonder where I get my absentmindedness from.

* I was in the doctors office for the hoard of ear problems I've been having lately. There was this cute little seventy something lady who was there with someone that I'm guessing was her daughter. I'm guessing this because the lady was literally an encyclopedia of Hugh Jackman knowledge, and I don't know who else would stick around for that. She was all kinds of awesome, though. She knew all the movies he did, and not only that, but the reasons why, too. She even knew why he was unable to attend the Oscars and everything else. Can we say stalker cougar?

* I've threatened to sing the weather campfire songs several times in the past few weeks. Yep, that's how our weather rolls, and that's how I roll to try to get it back. It's useless to fight with weather, though, because it's ultimately run by Mother Nature, and since she and Father Time broke up, she's been a bit cranky.

* If we never make it as the "Storm of the Day" on The Weather Channel again, it will be too damn soon. I can not repeat that enough.

* Late and random, but RIP Elizabeth Taylor. The first movie I ever saw her in was National Velvet, and she sustained her career for all of those years. She will always be a true legend.

* I've learned over time that watching Ghost Adventures immediately makes me hungry for chocolate. I don't know why this is. My friend, Non-Bridesmaidzilla, decided that eating chocolate during that show was a direct reference to the hot guys on that show. I adore the guys on that show, but I don't think Non-Bridesmaidzilla and myself are watching the same show. I just like chocolate.

* The line that made my month: "Dude, you can not sit here alone in a car. You'll be picked up for mopery with the intent to creep." I love you, Psych.

* People of Wal-mart, I repeat, People of Wal-mart, the aisles are not driving lanes. You can go around me, as opposed to riding me so close that you should have to buy me dinner and mumbling about how I need to walk faster when we're the only ones in the aisle. Go around me. There's plenty of room. I'm not the stupid one here.

* Our cat thinks she's a dog and goes out into the dog pen with our dogs, and then scratches at the door when she wants in. I wonder if there's therapy for cats having an identity crisis.

* I was trying to help my mom figure out what comes across properly and doesn't in texts so that she doesn't accidentally send something inappropriate to one of her clients in all of her technology ineptness. She then texted me, "up yours." Needless to say, I don't think she understood the lesson.

* If you know where Alivia Christine Kail is, please call the police. All the information about her and how to do it is here. Seriously, even if you just think you see her, call. She's not Waldo and this isn't really funny. People are missing her and no one knows where she could have gone. Help if you can.

* I sent this video to way too many people to make it kind. But seriously, the funniest thing in the world to me is people falling. I do it all the time, so I think it's fair that I laugh at others when they do, and I welcome them to laugh at me. This video not only has people falling, but large men falling, sometimes by their own stupidity, which is even funnier. One guy (eh hem, Zak), even falls while reading bad poetry he wrote himself for a ghost, because he was not paying attention. No, I can't make this shit up. Why do you ask?

And I should probably clarify that falling is only funny if no one is hurt. If someone is hurt, I refrain from the laughter.

* Just monkeying around. @(*.*)@ Yep, I went there.

* Why did no one tell me about a glorious little show called Hellcats? You all know I'm basically sixteen at heart, and I feel like I dropped the ball on this one. I expected it to be some show about cheerleaders with no substance. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against cheerleaders. I was a flyer myself once, but it just seems like shows never understand how hard cheerleaders work, and the shows about them end up being kind of ditzy. This one has serious heart, and now that I'm finally caught up, I'm so sad I don't have more episodes to watch and have to wait for the new ones. It's a hard knock life. I kid about that last part, of course.

* I posted that I had to get out of a vaporizer to break up a cold I had, and that I was pretty sure that was one of those problems white people have. Folks, my black friend confirmed that my suspicions are correct. He would have just boiled water in a pan and stood over it. I love my friend.

* People who work for our state are all kinds of special. I was talking to a very nice woman on the phone and explicitly asked her if she needed paperwork from December. She told me no. Sure enough, a week later I got a snarky worded little letter in the mail about how we had talked about this, and I didn't alert her that I had paperwork from December, but I needed to send it. Somewhere, someone crossed a few wires in her brain, but at least she's not eating too many bitch cookies like the Social Security lady. She was a joy.

* Sometimes typing late at night is not a good idea. While working on my novel, I ended up with a very inappropriate typo that I was tempted not to fix. Instead of saying, "She didn't want to give away his horror and his pain," I typed, "She didn't want to give away his horror and his pants." I would hope she wouldn't be giving away someone's pants. Darn you, dirty story character. You weren't meant to be written that way.

* Gay guys are a girl's best friend. You can't deny it.

* I love my grandfather. I will always love my grandfather to the day I die and beyond. But he was a huge golf fan, and I just can't see the point in watching golf, other than if I need assistance falling asleep. I do, however, wonder what would happen if a small animal jumped out and scared the heebies out of a golfer. I'd watch that.

* While going through some of the area that I hadn't been since the tornado hit, we found a billboard that had been knocked over in the storm. It was advertising a business that could help you if you had an accident. That sign needs to call that business. Even nature knows and appreciates irony.

* I'm so confused about something. I adore Panic! at the Disco. It's also fitting with Brendon's personality that the exclamation mark came back. Brendon has consistently been one of the stronger male singers in a world of Justin Biebers, so color me shocked when I realized that all this time that he had been singing songs Ryan Ross wrote, he was amazing. Now that he's writing his own songs, he can't sing them live to save his life. How does that happen? Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying he's bad, but compared to how I'm used to him sounding with clean and strong vocals, it's a little jarring.

But, you guys, what is up with his hair? I get that he's losing it. I do, but this is like some newfangled old man comb over. He keeps the sides and back short, and the front long to comb over where his hair in thinning. I realize he has a tough family life, but can't someone volunteer to be his mother in this case?

* Predictive Google and myself have a long history of inefficiency. I'll just leave it at that.

* Mom: "It rains a lot in the Amazon."
Me: "That's probably because it's a rain forest."

* Answer me something. Do people really buy brand new wardrobes every season and throw out their old ones? Because that just sounds preposterous to me.

* Joe Mantegna was on The Talk the other day to discuss autism in children, since his daughter, Mia, is autistic. While he was on there, a man whose one child, a son, was also autistic was there. At the end of the show, Holly Robinson Peete wanted to give a gift to the man and his children, so she had them come out. His autistic son came and sat to his one side, his non autistic child next to Joe. She proceeded to pet Joe's arm. I love that little girl. She was maybe ten.

* Explain to me spending six hours a day on couponing. I get trying to save money, and I, too, am a fan of the coupon, but six hours a day? These women claim they have too much to do to work so they need the coupons to save money, but essentially clipping coupons for six hours a day is working. People are crazy, yeah?

* Men, afraid of shit that wouldn't faze a woman since the beginning of time. Where are my ladies at?

* The other day I realized that I've never, ever hurt myself doing anything dangerous. When I hurt myself it's doing something like walking, sitting, or opening an envelope. We're talking serious hurt, too. But I could probably sky dive, my parachute wouldn't deploy, and I'd hit the ground gently on my feet, defying all laws of gravity. That's just the kind of humor my life has.

* I've mentioned before that I detest the character of Ashley Seaver on Criminal Minds, but Rachel Nichols is easily the most adorable person ever. Seriously, follow her on Twitter. It's weird how I can hate a character so much and only know her for that character, but still find her delightful.

* Breakout Kings has grown on me and I look forward to watching it. Although I was upset that Philly got only one episode, I quickly decided that Erica was the highlight of the show. Her beating up Lloyd nearly immediately upon her entrance was a win. Plus, she just epitomizes the fact that men are scared of shit that wouldn't faze a woman. Team Erica!

* For some reason, I was watching Divorce Court today. Let's never bring this up again. The only reason I am is because the one guy who was on there was clearly the funniest guy in the world. He said, and I quote verbatim, "Every single day she act like me being short is something new." If his wife doesn't want him, I'll take him. I don't think I want to actually date him or anything, but I could use the laughs.

* If you ever buy one of those treadmills with iFit custom workouts wondering what kind of a workout it could really give you and laughing cheerily about how you're going to fly right through those workouts, immediately return it before assembling. I decided to try out one of their workouts for myself today. I did the full planned course in fifteen minutes, but I was sweating and beginning to think the machine was trying to kill me. It controls your speed and your incline, and I totally didn't realize you could get that kind of a workout from a treadmill. I mean, Non Bridesmaidzilla and myself walk three miles when we walk in the summer, no problem, no sweat, and there's not even any tears, but I almost surrendered to a treadmill on a seven tenths of a mile trail. That's illegal somewhere, right?

Why You No Like My Humor?

My mom has been attending meetings at work where they discuss how to turn people who are trying to sell their home themselves into clients. My mom had mentioned to me that they needed a letter to keep on file for them to send to those people explaining their intentions and why they would be a good choice to list their house. Often times they have the address for the person, but their phone number is unlisted, leaving them no other way to contact the person. My mom asked me if I would help her formulate the letter. To be honest, I just didn't feel like doing it, so I came up with this instead. It gave the office a laugh.

March 29, 2011

Dear Expired Seller,
I was contacting you regarding your home. I am a certified real estate agent who is interesting in speaking with you about possibly listing your home. I would have called you, but I was unable to, as I couldn't find your phone number anywhere. Therefore, I have just two questions.

Please call me back at your earliest convenience regarding this matter.
Sincerely,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Realtor

March 30, 2011

Dear Expired Seller,
I contacted you yesterday regarding listing your house and why your phone number was unlisted no matter how hard I tried to stalk you. I've given you a full twenty four hours, yet you still haven't gotten back to me. This leaves me with but one more question.

Jerk!
Sincerely,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Realtor

Also, I've been considering my dedication for my novel and realized that I must dedicate part of the book to my neighbors. This is what I've come up with. Let me know what you think.

Dear Neighbors,
Thank you for spending all decent and reasonable hours of the day screaming, yelling, irritating the crap out of me, and assuring that I will be up until five in the morning just to get any work done on my novel, since I have no peace during the day. I hope a car full of fifty clowns comes by and renders your house their new shared living space. Bastards.

Too much? Not enough?

Behold! Slipper Ransom - The Conclusion

I never heard back from Aunt Bev after that last ransom letter, and although I wanted to continue to write ransom letters because I was just having far too much fun with it to be normal, Friday was the following day. You know, since it comes after Thursday and all. Thanks for that, Rebecca Black. Being as it was, I devised my last plan.

Taking the materials below, I cut up red and white thread that matched the slipper into little pieces.

I then placed the thread in a baggy so it wouldn't get loose and flee.

I placed the baggy inside of the envelope. This sounds very secretive and hinky, I know.

Then put Aunt Bev's name on the envelope.

Last, I set up a bunch of crazy, wacky pictures and made my last ransom letter to include them. I stuffed it inside before sealing the envelope. It is as follows.

My Dearest Beverly,

Oh, my dearest, instruction following disabled Beverly. The warning was set-forth, and I’ve given you all the evidence you’ve needed to know the ransom against your slipper was not a joke, yet you still refused to listen. I regret to inform you that the contents of the envelope are all that is left of you poor, unfortunate slipper that died an unnecessary death because of you. Shame on you! And just to prove it’s really gone, I documented the event for your torture.

First, I hung your slipper with green, unbreakable yarn. I know this will not kill said slipper, but yet I chose to place the yarn through the snowman’s throat, therefore counting him as deceased. As you can see, the real, live bear can smell a snowman turning to snowballs from a mile away and came to investigate. Soon, he found he could not resist and began to munch on your slipper. There was nothing I could do to stop him once he started.


Because I felt bad, I waited until the real, live bear was asleep and decided to extract his stuffing through his missing nose. When I did, I found no slipper, only the following; remnants of what could have been, if only you had met your ransom. After that was done, I re-stuffed him and I was forced to perform the painful procedure of sewing his nose back up before he ate me, too. He looks as good as new, which is good for him, but bad for your slipper. I’m sorry to see we could not reach an agreement, but it is what it is and the real, live bear is very full now. He says thanks.



I placed the envelope in my purse and hid the slipper inside another pocket of my purse, where Aunt Bev couldn't see it when I opened my purse to hand her the envelope. The plan was for me to give her the envelope, have her open it, see the pieces of thread and the ransom letter, and let her believe her slipper had met its maker. Then, I would pull out the slipper, while cackling loudly. Let's just say that's how things went down, you know, for the sake of the story.

In reality, I didn't have time to do that on Friday, so I threw the ransom letter and slipper in her hands and told her to look in the envelope first and pretend like she read the letter and I gave her the slipper second, and then left. I apologize for ruining my own climatic ending.