Hi, Squirrel Monkeys. Let's not talk about my health today. I spent nearly seven hours at the hospital, and I just don't want to go there. So let me regal you with a few tales that have nothing to do with each other, and some IMs, because that's all I have right now.
* My mom got bored the other day and started flipping through PPV channels and reading off the names of porn movies. If I never hear my mother say "busty blonde babes" again, it will be too soon.
* When this phase ended, she moved to the Polka Channel. Yeah folks, we actually get that. This is what we pay for. Actually, it's the most hysterical channel I've watched in my life. Picture it, women in country garb suited only for polka dancing, men with porn staches, and everyone looking like they came right out of the seventies. Oh, and did I mention most of them can't polka? Seriously, side splitting laughter occurs when we watch this channel.
* I think the issues with Bloglovin' have been fixed. (I hope.) I spoke with someone, and basically what I found out is that, when you have no followers on their site, they update your blog on their site when they see fit. They don't have your blog on any kind of feed so it automatically updates when you update. They physically do it whenever they want. I wrote them and asked them to take my blog off of their site, because I like to control when I update my blog, and I didn't think it was right that they could choose to put my updates on their site as they wanted. That's why I don't want involved in a network; my blog no longer becomes mine if they're updating it when they want, making it look like I don't blog often. I never received a response, so I looked today and saw my blog was magically updated on their site. I promise I wasn't trying to be a bitch, I just didn't like that my blog looked like it wasn't being updated because they were updating it on their site when they wanted. Hopefully this completely solves the problem, and I'd like to thank them for taking the time and effort to address the issue. So I guess, follow me on Bloglovin?
* There's a show on at prime time on the History Channel called American Pickers. It's two middle aged men driving around the country, going through people's junk, and seeing if they can resale it. Here's a few quotes from a recent episode, via the two stars of the show.
Skinny middle aged guy to round middle aged guy: “It’s kind of like you on a Saturday night...untouched.”
Same guy to same other guy: “I’m going behind you. Don’t fart.”
Skinny middle aged guy: “I was watching The Hills last night, and Lauren’s not even on there anymore.”
Round middle aged guy: “What’s The Hills?”
Skinny middle aged guy: “You don’t know what The Hills is? Lauren stole AMERICA’S HEARTS!”
Did I mention this show was on the HISTORY Channel? At prime time? Just checking.
Because I don't have a whole lot more to say due to the situation with my head, here are some extra special IMs with ridiculous pictures. I apologize for this in advance, because I was not myself the night these conversations occurred. I was trying to ignore my splitting head and overcompensated with stupid. And no jokes about them finally checking out my head to see if I'm crazy. We already know that. We're just looking for a blood clot now.
- There is nothing we do better than chicken revenge.
Awesome Australian Friend mentioned she didn't eat meat, but she hates chickens, so she eats them. She feels bad eating cows, but not chickens, because chickens are evil. I agree with this fully.
- Okay, I have a question.
- An awkward, dead end question.
- From the night of the awkward crazy.
- Howdy snoody.
- I admit I failed at being creative there.
- We should stick our tongues out at them in a mature manner.
- See what I did there? Total oxymoron.
- I always want to call it “Valley of the Dolls,” and I always know that’s not right.
- It’s as wrong as letting Squeaky Fromme out of prison.
This still irks me, y'all. I mean, she tried to kill the President of the United States AND was a member of The Manson Family. How does letting her out of prison ever seem like a good idea? Maybe those people need their heads scanned...and not for blood clots. For crazy.
- Do you think Jim Beaver would adopt me if I asked?
What? I love Jim Beaver. And then he went and put the most epic status ever on Facebook about keeping it classy in the bathtub, and I can't remember the whole thing, but I want him to adopt me. Now.
- “If only I could make that stupid human understand that I really hate when they wear that shirt, because it’s not cuddly.”
This is what Awesome Australian Friend and I imagined our cats really think of us. This is what we imagine they say to each other about we humans. If anyone speaks cat, please get in touch with me so you can confirm or deny this sentence.
- Then there’s our cat who will play with anything. He doesn’t need toys. There’s a bug in the house.
Well, at least we have less bugs to kill and clean up. He eats them, too. I know, I should really do something about that. *Sigh*
- OMG JOE AN DA CAT!
That was the original IM, typo included. I couldn't bring myself to fix such stupidity. Am I the only one who didn't take Joe Mantegna for the kind of man who owned a cat, far more dressed one up? His beautiful daughter, Gia, was Miss Golden Globe this year, and I feel a little bad for her that she can't bring people to her house, because then she'd have to explain that her dad dresses up his cats. I think Joe is the bee's knees for this.
- OMG, IS HE WEARING SLIPPERS? HE’S WEARING HUGH HEFFNER SLIPPERS, ISN’T HE?
Hint, the answer is yes. No, his socks don't match either, and he's wearing an ascot? I don't even know for sure that's not just a handkerchief that he's trying to pass off as an ascot. None of those things are important. I'm used to that. This was the first time I've seen him not wearing shoes, though, so obviously that's the important thing. Don't even get me started on Kirsten. Why is it that only one person in this entire cast can dress themselves? *Cough* Joe *Cough*
- I have a heart condition over here and I don’t know if I can take it.
- My way of helping goes over well out here in the East.
- The mom in me would just explode all over that situation.
- His parents are evil and I love them!
There is a guy who is famous in Australia. His name is Boo Boo. I love his evil genius parents.
- Sell me?
- For a dollar.
- Wait, no.
- Pay someone to take me.
- It’s official, my life is dead. I have not one.
- Someone out there has to know, and I’M GOING TO FIND OUT WHO!
- I am so sorry that I’m so weird.
- I forgot to take one of my medications.
In all my headache hell, I really did forget to take one. None of them alter my moods, so I had no leg to stand on here, but let's pretend I do. Otherwise, I can't explain myself.
- There is something wrong with that boy.
- OMG, if you could see me, I’m in this little ball laughing.
- You’ll hear me singing songs about farting unicorns or something.
- About cheese!
All I wanted to know was, why in the hell was I this excited about cheese? Is there ever a reason for this...especially when you're not eating cheese?
- Let’s pretend we’re British.
- And spell things funny because we’re British.
Zoe, do you think we Americans spell things funny?
- And did you hit that door last night, or did he jump out and hit you?
- Dear.
- DEER!
- DAMN ITTTT!
- I’m sorry a deer jumped out at you and went SURPRISE!
A deer jumped out and hit my friend's car one time. No lie. In this case, however, it was a joint effort. The deer did jump out in front of her (different friend), and she couldn't get stopped in time. It was the deer's fault, but she still technically hit him. He didn't jump right out onto her car like one did to my other friend. And in both cases the people and the deer were fine. The cars? Not so much.
- You know what gets me? They can send men to the moon, but we can’t get boyfriends.
- I mean, I’m at the point where I’m impressed when a man can do laundry.
- I’m so impressed, it doesn’t even have to be right.
- And he doesn’t expect anything out of you.
- Like you to have friends who can type at a sixth grade level or above.
If he did, he'd run fleeing from said friend I was talking to and it'd be all my fault.
- Or a NSFC (Not safe for Cassadee) warning.
Showing posts with label IM Speak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IM Speak. Show all posts
Friday, January 21, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Best Dang Hootinany Funeral In the History of Basic Blogging
Many moons ago, and by that I mean last February, I wrote a blog mentioning that my grandma had passed away in January. I was inherently absent during that time, and then for awhile after I posted that blog. I always intended to write a follow up about her funeral, mostly because it was one of the oddest experiences of my life. I haven’t been able to do so until now for emotional reasons, but I think now would be a good time to share. It’s the one year anniversary of her death, and what a better way to honor her than with a blog for all the world to see. (Sorry, Grandma!)
One thing you have to understand is that my grandma was really funny. Like, really funny. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but she would just say these things and we’d all bust out laughing. She could come out with things that were cool with the teens, and also things that made everyone laugh. You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth, which was a really great thing about her. Whether I knew who she really was or not, like her death has left me to wonder, I can’t take away just how funny she was. I’m sure she’s still making people laugh in heaven.
There’s also another thing I know, and that’s that I got a lot of my humor for her. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that, because if I can come out with the things she did at her age, I will be forever grateful and have nothing to complain about.
That being said, there was no way her funeral was going to be the somber meeting of family members and friends you haven’t seen in awhile like most are. I knew going into it that there would be a lot of crying, because she had a lot of friends who loved her dearly, but it would also be a quirky event. People would start talking and telling stories about her, and it would end up being a hootinany. It didn’t disappoint.
Some may think it to be in bad taste to speak of my grandmother’s funeral this way, but if you knew my grandmother you would know she’s in heaven watching me type this and laughing her butt off. And she always thought her butt needed to shrink, so I'm just trying to help her out. She’d be excited this would get posted. She’d be happy to know that we were remembering her as a funny woman, and not standing all over the place crying.
A testament to this would be the fact that she planned her funeral on her own. We thought this odd and were extremely taken aback when we found this out. We were especially taken back when she didn’t want anyone following behind the hearse to the cemetery to be laid to rest. Nor was there to be a gathering after. We simply had one viewing and one service to get it right. Her reasoning was basically that she was dead and it was ridiculous for everyone to go chasing after her, wasting their day, etc. She was a practical woman, and although we found this harsh and a little hard to swallow because we loved her so much, that was just her. So trust me, I have it on good authority that writing about this is a-okay with her.
Let’s start out with me telling you all that I got dressed in a pretty little outfit fit for a funeral. We were getting ready to leave the house and I realized something; I was so worried about getting dressed and looking proper for the funeral, that there was no me in the outfit. I was in drab clothing and about as neat as a pin. My grandma wouldn’t like this at all, because it just wasn’t me. I could just imagine my grandma, had she been alive, asking me why I was dressed like that. Because it was a funeral and I couldn’t dress like a colorblind monkey or anything, I put in pink Tinkerbell earrings, and you know what, I instantly felt better. They were me and I knew she would have adored that I didn’t take the me out of me for her funeral.
The funeral home became awfully crowded awfully quickly, and before I knew it, I was being accosted by people who kept asking me if I remembered them, because the last time they saw me I was two, or three, but never over five. They seemed genuinely disappointed when I didn’t, but they accepted it. Not until they gave me at least three hugs, but they did. I got hugged by so many older woman that I legitimately smelled like a perfume store had thrown up on me. As long as they accepted that I didn’t remember them and walked away, it was all good.
That was until one lady came along and kept repeatedly asking me if I remembered her. I told her no, but she insisted I had to and continued to tell me stories about her and myself when I was all of four. I finally said I remembered her. I lied so bad, but she was happy with this. Sometimes the best part of believe really is the lie. Oddly enough, I kind of liked this lady and wished that I had remembered her.
About an hour into the viewing, gram’s pastor showed up. To explain this properly you have to understand that I knew gram’s old pastor who was at the church for many years. However, he had just left the church and they had gotten a brand new pastor just a few months earlier, and we had never met. My mom had met her, but this really isn’t relevant to the situation.
I was making my rounds when I ran into a rather short lady who was wearing a full clergy uniform. I walked up to her and introduced myself, saying that she must be Pastor Jan. Her response:
“How did you know?” She faked being shocked that I could have possible have guessed this with her wearing her uniform and all.
She was easily the funniest pastor ever. She got funnier as the day went on. I love her and if I do get married, it will be by no one but her. I don’t care if she’s 104, she’s marrying me. I like a little comedy with my wedding.
Soon after this, Original Becky showed up. She brought donuts. To understand how this is funny, I must tell you a story.
Ten years ago, during my grandfather’s funeral, we were getting ready to leave when we noticed a huge box of donuts on one of the tables just outside of his viewing room. My mom, gram, aunt and myself started talking about how off putting it was that the funeral home went out and got donuts and left them lying there. It was in horrible taste, so my grandma, very upset and not thinking clearly, decided to mention it to them. That’s when they told us that they had not brought them, but one of the guests at the funeral had brought them; a really old, shorter lady with a lot of spunk.
We later found out that my Great-Great Aunt Pearl had brought them for the kids that were attending the funeral to keep the busy. After that, she always brought donuts to funerals, which was really awesome and also a little funny. We always enjoyed them. The last funeral in our family was hers, and Original Becky knew this, so she brought donuts. I think we probably laughed for a good five minutes, and I’m sure grandma was watching and laughing, too.
With Original Becky there, debauchery was bound to ensue. I am forever grateful that she came, genuinely stayed for a good hour or so, talked to me, got my mind off of things, got me away from people who kept hugging me, crying, and insisting I knew them, and brought donuts and a meat tray. Thank you, Original Becky. Seriously. You are the best.
During out conversation, several subjects came up. One of them was Criminal Minds. Yes, Squirrel Monkeys, we even talk about Criminal Minds at funerals. We keep it classy in Pennsylvania. It was fair considering that show was literally the only thing getting me through this time. I know that sounds dumb, but at night when you go home, everyone goes to bed, and you’re alone with your thoughts is the hardest time. I, however, was just getting into the show and between two different television channels, there was eight hours of the show on at night. I was able to sit down, space out, and watch the show into the wee hours of the morning until I feel asleep, not crying, not feeling dead inside. So maybe now you all can understand why I like this show a little more than makes sense.
So, to appropriately sum this up, we got to talking about a show where people kill other people, and FBI agents try to analyze the killer...at a funeral. Classy, I know. We were even having this huge conversation about the psych of the killer, when Don walked by. Don, his wife, and his daughter lived in the house behind and one over from my grandmother’s until she moved into a senior community. I grew up with his daughter and knew her literally all of my life. I am familiar with Don and his inappropriate comments, and now that I’m an adult, I just love him.
He happened to walk by at an apparently inappropriate time. I know Original Becky and myself had just made a comment about Dr. Reid and the sexual psych of a serial killer. I’m not sure how those two went together, but they did. This prompted Don to hear just that part, turn, and make the most obscure comment about penis size ever. Neither of us can remember the exact comment, but we can remember it was amazingly awesome, we were the only ones who heard it, and we couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Reid that way at a funeral. Thanks, Don. No really, we thought it was awesome. Nearly a year later, we still do.
During this convo, Original Becky also could see me getting teary eyed and chose to bring up my whole serial killer bit. And by serial killer, we mean cereal killer. I had mentioned to her just days earlier that every time I hear someone on Criminal Minds taking about a serial killer, the image that immediately comes to mind is one of a spoon chasing cereal down the street and then killing it. Not someone eating it; not someone stepping on it, a spoon getting out of the drawer, out of the house, and chasing the cereal that has also gotten out of the cupboards and out of the house, down the street and then beating it to death. I don’t get it either, folks, but that’s what I picture.
On a side note, one day our neighbor's kids were screaming and harassing our dogs, and the neighbors were doing nothing to stop it. I was tempted to go and tell the kids, in an attempt to scare them, that every time they screamed a piece of cereal died. My mom and three of my friends thought this was brilliant. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. I’ll save it for a rainy day.
When we were done talking about Criminal Minds, cereal killers, and penis sizes, Original Becky and I thought we’d go hit my uncle up for some awesome stories. Since my grandma’s passing, my real aunt is no longer someone we associate with for several reasons that I won’t get into, but no matter how we feel about her, the man she is married to is pretty much the most hysterical person in the world. I hate to say this, but he tops Don. He says more inappropriate things and has more good stories. I’m sorry, Don. I like you both equally, but his stories are better.
Thankfully, funeral or no funeral, Uncle Ray did not disappoint. His line of work consist of him owning his own company which does various work, anything from electrical work, to construction, to painting, to remodeling. You name it, he does it himself with a help from a few employees. Over the years he’s gotten some pretty odd and stupid jobs.
The one that sticks out the most is when he was flown to either Mexico or India. I can’t remember which, and I know they’re not close to each other or anything alike, but it’s been awhile since I heard this story. Anyway, he was flown there because their computer systems weren’t working at a tech support place. He flew the whole way down there only to find that everyone in the office was so smart, they were stupid. They never plugged in the main plug for the computer system. He promptly plugged it in, got on the next flight and came back home all in the same day.
He’s also a bit of a hero here because he fixed the bomb robot for the city police squad about ten years ago. In doing this, he made several friends in the police force. One of them proceeded to get him involved in the following story, which he chose to share with us during the funeral.
The local police station had just gotten all new computers. They offered to have someone come in and set them up so that the police officer on the desk that day didn’t have to mess with it. She said no, that was okay, she was very familiar with computers and would have no problem setting them up during her shift, and it wouldn’t take her long. Obviously this was high priority, because they couldn’t go very long without their computers, being a police station and all, so they told her to go ahead and do it.
Three hours later the computers were set up, everything plugged in, but nothing turned on. Uncle Ray was called. When he got there he went all over everything. Everything looked good, including the way that the plugs were put into the surge protector. What didn’t look good, however, was that she had gone and plugged the surge protector into itself instead of into the wall, because she didn’t know what was going to protect the surge protector from a storm. Apparently, she also didn’t know that the surge protector needs power from the outlet in the wall for this to even be an issue. Folks, she carries a gun. It’s loaded.
Eventually the time came for the service, and Original Becky left, as she didn’t know my gram well enough to feel comfortable staying. This was fine, because she was nice enough to come there for me, to keep me company and show me support and I appreciated it. Right before she left, I was asked to do a eulogy during the service. I had no plans to do a eulogy, because in the crazy suddenness that was my grandma’s death, I simply hadn’t had time to think about it. It all happened so quickly. I didn’t want to agree, but I didn’t really do so, either. Pastor Jan just kind of decided I was going to do it and that was final. The look on my face must of been pretty horrific, because, as Becky was putting her coat on, she said, “It’s okay, just rant like you always do.” Obviously, you see where this is going.
I got up to the podium and the first thing out of my mouth was, “I didn’t have a speech planned for today and I kind of got forced into doing this, so my friend told me to rant like I always do, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Yep, that’s how I started my speech. Luckily, I pulled a bunch of stuff out of my invisible hat and it all went well. People laughed, shook their heads, and agreed with things I said. I could have won an award for the most disorganized, ranty speech to ever exist, but it was a funeral, I was the granddaughter of the deceased and I had no time to prep. I got let off the hook.
Thankfully, I soon became the least interesting thing about the service. I had just sat back down when the best thing that could have ever happened at a funeral for someone with my grandmother’s personality, happened. You see, we have a slightly mentally challenged family member. The booklet to the service was three pages long. The pastor was going into yet another Bible verse when the relative yelled out, “THIS IS A LONG SERVICE!”
My mom and I did the mature thing and cracked up, mostly because it reminded us of the time when we were all one big happy family, and my mom, my aunt, my grandma and myself were seated in a row at another relative’s funeral. The service was going on forever, and all of a sudden one of us cracked up for no good reason. This caused a chain reaction, and there the four of us were laughing hysterical in the middle of the world’s longest funeral service for no good reason, and failing at hiding it. It’s suffice to say that this lady made our day by bringing back a morbidly amusing memory.
As the service ended and people started to disband, my aunt and I were looking for Aunt Sarah. You have to understand that Aunt Sarah is lucky if she’s over four feet tall. This is not an exaggeration, she really is that short. She literally comes to about two inches below my boobies and I’m 5’5.
Earlier in the day, Original Becky, who is 5’8 and then had heels on, had the living daylights scared out of her when she happened to move to the side and out of the bottom of her eye caught Aunt Sarah standing beside her. Aunt Sarah had been there for some time, but being that she was almost two feet shorter than Original Becky, she never noticed until she went to move. I laughed. I’m sorry, Original Becky, but not really.
Anyway, we were trying to figure out if her son had come and retrieved her from the funeral, or if she wanted one of us to take her home since she was in her mid eighties and no longer drove. We looked for that woman and looked for that woman. We even checked behind a few chairs and a really tall podium. I kid you not, we really did, because she is just that short. Do you all want to know where we found her?
Behind Pastor Jan, who is 4’11 at best. So yes, the shortest person in the whole room was having a conversation with, and therefore unintentionally hiding behind the second shortest person in the whole room, and not at all on purpose. Only in my life, people. Only in my life.
Before we parted, I said my goodbyes to grandma. I didn’t know what to say but one thing. “Don’t go running around naked in heaven.” I realize how this sounds, and it’s pretty much like that. We had a running joke that, every time I would talk to her, the last thing I said to her before I hung up the phone, and right after I love you was, I would tell her to be good and not go running naked down the hallways. I thought this was a fitting way to send her into the afterlife, and I don’t think she’d have it any other way.
With all the pain that came with that funeral, and I still feel over her death, I truly found one incredible thing that will keep me tied to her forever. When she was my age, she married. She kept her wedding suit all of her life. I decided to try it on for shits and giggles. It fits me like a glove, like it was made for me. I fit into the one thing she wore on the best day of her life, and that’s the most beautiful way I could wish to be connected to her.
And also in honor of my grandma, I’d like to share a few gems that were excluded from last night’s post regarding online conversations. These came after. I know this would have made her laugh, but I’m still going to apologize for them anyway. Sorry, Grandma.
- Oh, this won’t end well.
I know guys, so that’s so open ended. That could go with just about anything I’ve ever said or done.
- She was writing something and trying to figure out if she should put pants on her character.
- I just washed my pajamas and they smell funny.
- They smell like they were eating pizza and pop tarts.
- And I am in one of those moods where I’m avoiding posting on Facebook because I could piss a lot of people off.
- I fell you?
- I want to know how that works.
- And I want to like it to be nice, but I can’t.
- And now he’s not sure if he likes me or not.
- I’m okay with that.
- The one who is like 10 billion feet tall and afraid of me.
- It’s so funny.
- For me, not him.
- That sounds so dirty.
Again, this could go with any conversation and just about anything I’ve ever said.
- I feel like a loser, OKAY?
- Unless he croaks fairly early, then I’m screwed.
- But you start asking me to do a tutorial that takes longer than ten minutes, and a child could do it in their sleep, you can suck it.
Sorry, Grandma.
- OMG, they’re so country!
I have no room to talk here, folks.
- THAT’S WRONG!
- THAT’S SACRILEGIOUS!
- THAT’S ILLEGAL!
What was that all about, you may wonder? My friend Googling Ian Somerhalder and coming up with pictures of Justin Bieber. I have three questions. Why? How? Why!?
- Then they think I’m nuts.
- Either way, no one messes with a crazy person.
- It’s a win / win.
- I will teach you my crazy ways.
- It was all kinds of special.
This could also show up in all my conversations without fail.
- When I heard they dated I was like, “well, that didn’t go well.”
I would be an awesome matchmaker, no? Oh, no. Right. No.
- Do you want me to sing to it as torture?
- Usually it’s when you say something, and they only do it so you can make an ass out of yourself.
- Can you see him trying to debate country music with Lo?
- I’ll pull something random out of my ass.
Not literally! You guys are sick!
- Some bitch could sneeze twenty miles from me and I’d catch what she has.
- Some really nice lady could sneeze twenty miles from me and I’d catch it, too.
- Ugh, no, hotness is an excuse.
- I mean, being hot is an excuse.
- Eh, same difference.
- I have my killer figured out, too. We’ve got our killers in a row, yo! Sorry about the yo. It rhymed with row.
I'm not sure the yo was the problem with these sentences.
- So, I can’t wait to find out who your killer is.
- Wait!
- Wait!
- Wait!
- That sounded wrong.
- THE BOOTS!
- I figured we already trolled on his mom. Looking up someone’s myspace couldn’t be that creepy, right?
If you have to ask... I always forget that rule.
- And by what can be described only as the Grace of God, I managed to spell David’s last name right on the first try. Just don’t ask me to do it again.
- Let’s recap what we’ve done with our night. We cyberstalked a picture of someone's mom, and successfully cyberstalked the dating status of every single Simple Plan member.
Guys, I had a fever. She’s awesome. Those are our stories and we’re sticking to them.
- We could so outdo Perez Hilton.
- I think we should sing campfire songs to it.
- That’s my answer to everything.
- She’s like, NO IT’S NOT! THE NOSE PICKER?
- Does he smell good? Because if he smells good, jump him.
- I’m such a good influence.
- Find him, smell him, proceed from there.
What have I told you about taking my advice? Right. Don’t do it. Ever.
- Okay, I know I can’t rationalize things that way.
That’s all for today, folks. I’m going to hug my Macbook and thank it a million times over to dislodging whatever was stuck in the mouse that was causing it to malfunction. I would have had a breakdown that would have landed me in a sanitarium had Mrs. Macbook passed.
Also, Zoe, I know there’s nothing in here from our conversation, but the son of a monkey’s uncle didn’t save. Boo.
One thing you have to understand is that my grandma was really funny. Like, really funny. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but she would just say these things and we’d all bust out laughing. She could come out with things that were cool with the teens, and also things that made everyone laugh. You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth, which was a really great thing about her. Whether I knew who she really was or not, like her death has left me to wonder, I can’t take away just how funny she was. I’m sure she’s still making people laugh in heaven.
There’s also another thing I know, and that’s that I got a lot of my humor for her. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that, because if I can come out with the things she did at her age, I will be forever grateful and have nothing to complain about.
That being said, there was no way her funeral was going to be the somber meeting of family members and friends you haven’t seen in awhile like most are. I knew going into it that there would be a lot of crying, because she had a lot of friends who loved her dearly, but it would also be a quirky event. People would start talking and telling stories about her, and it would end up being a hootinany. It didn’t disappoint.
Some may think it to be in bad taste to speak of my grandmother’s funeral this way, but if you knew my grandmother you would know she’s in heaven watching me type this and laughing her butt off. And she always thought her butt needed to shrink, so I'm just trying to help her out. She’d be excited this would get posted. She’d be happy to know that we were remembering her as a funny woman, and not standing all over the place crying.
A testament to this would be the fact that she planned her funeral on her own. We thought this odd and were extremely taken aback when we found this out. We were especially taken back when she didn’t want anyone following behind the hearse to the cemetery to be laid to rest. Nor was there to be a gathering after. We simply had one viewing and one service to get it right. Her reasoning was basically that she was dead and it was ridiculous for everyone to go chasing after her, wasting their day, etc. She was a practical woman, and although we found this harsh and a little hard to swallow because we loved her so much, that was just her. So trust me, I have it on good authority that writing about this is a-okay with her.
Let’s start out with me telling you all that I got dressed in a pretty little outfit fit for a funeral. We were getting ready to leave the house and I realized something; I was so worried about getting dressed and looking proper for the funeral, that there was no me in the outfit. I was in drab clothing and about as neat as a pin. My grandma wouldn’t like this at all, because it just wasn’t me. I could just imagine my grandma, had she been alive, asking me why I was dressed like that. Because it was a funeral and I couldn’t dress like a colorblind monkey or anything, I put in pink Tinkerbell earrings, and you know what, I instantly felt better. They were me and I knew she would have adored that I didn’t take the me out of me for her funeral.
The funeral home became awfully crowded awfully quickly, and before I knew it, I was being accosted by people who kept asking me if I remembered them, because the last time they saw me I was two, or three, but never over five. They seemed genuinely disappointed when I didn’t, but they accepted it. Not until they gave me at least three hugs, but they did. I got hugged by so many older woman that I legitimately smelled like a perfume store had thrown up on me. As long as they accepted that I didn’t remember them and walked away, it was all good.
That was until one lady came along and kept repeatedly asking me if I remembered her. I told her no, but she insisted I had to and continued to tell me stories about her and myself when I was all of four. I finally said I remembered her. I lied so bad, but she was happy with this. Sometimes the best part of believe really is the lie. Oddly enough, I kind of liked this lady and wished that I had remembered her.
About an hour into the viewing, gram’s pastor showed up. To explain this properly you have to understand that I knew gram’s old pastor who was at the church for many years. However, he had just left the church and they had gotten a brand new pastor just a few months earlier, and we had never met. My mom had met her, but this really isn’t relevant to the situation.
I was making my rounds when I ran into a rather short lady who was wearing a full clergy uniform. I walked up to her and introduced myself, saying that she must be Pastor Jan. Her response:
“How did you know?” She faked being shocked that I could have possible have guessed this with her wearing her uniform and all.
She was easily the funniest pastor ever. She got funnier as the day went on. I love her and if I do get married, it will be by no one but her. I don’t care if she’s 104, she’s marrying me. I like a little comedy with my wedding.
Soon after this, Original Becky showed up. She brought donuts. To understand how this is funny, I must tell you a story.
Ten years ago, during my grandfather’s funeral, we were getting ready to leave when we noticed a huge box of donuts on one of the tables just outside of his viewing room. My mom, gram, aunt and myself started talking about how off putting it was that the funeral home went out and got donuts and left them lying there. It was in horrible taste, so my grandma, very upset and not thinking clearly, decided to mention it to them. That’s when they told us that they had not brought them, but one of the guests at the funeral had brought them; a really old, shorter lady with a lot of spunk.
We later found out that my Great-Great Aunt Pearl had brought them for the kids that were attending the funeral to keep the busy. After that, she always brought donuts to funerals, which was really awesome and also a little funny. We always enjoyed them. The last funeral in our family was hers, and Original Becky knew this, so she brought donuts. I think we probably laughed for a good five minutes, and I’m sure grandma was watching and laughing, too.
With Original Becky there, debauchery was bound to ensue. I am forever grateful that she came, genuinely stayed for a good hour or so, talked to me, got my mind off of things, got me away from people who kept hugging me, crying, and insisting I knew them, and brought donuts and a meat tray. Thank you, Original Becky. Seriously. You are the best.
During out conversation, several subjects came up. One of them was Criminal Minds. Yes, Squirrel Monkeys, we even talk about Criminal Minds at funerals. We keep it classy in Pennsylvania. It was fair considering that show was literally the only thing getting me through this time. I know that sounds dumb, but at night when you go home, everyone goes to bed, and you’re alone with your thoughts is the hardest time. I, however, was just getting into the show and between two different television channels, there was eight hours of the show on at night. I was able to sit down, space out, and watch the show into the wee hours of the morning until I feel asleep, not crying, not feeling dead inside. So maybe now you all can understand why I like this show a little more than makes sense.
So, to appropriately sum this up, we got to talking about a show where people kill other people, and FBI agents try to analyze the killer...at a funeral. Classy, I know. We were even having this huge conversation about the psych of the killer, when Don walked by. Don, his wife, and his daughter lived in the house behind and one over from my grandmother’s until she moved into a senior community. I grew up with his daughter and knew her literally all of my life. I am familiar with Don and his inappropriate comments, and now that I’m an adult, I just love him.
He happened to walk by at an apparently inappropriate time. I know Original Becky and myself had just made a comment about Dr. Reid and the sexual psych of a serial killer. I’m not sure how those two went together, but they did. This prompted Don to hear just that part, turn, and make the most obscure comment about penis size ever. Neither of us can remember the exact comment, but we can remember it was amazingly awesome, we were the only ones who heard it, and we couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Reid that way at a funeral. Thanks, Don. No really, we thought it was awesome. Nearly a year later, we still do.
During this convo, Original Becky also could see me getting teary eyed and chose to bring up my whole serial killer bit. And by serial killer, we mean cereal killer. I had mentioned to her just days earlier that every time I hear someone on Criminal Minds taking about a serial killer, the image that immediately comes to mind is one of a spoon chasing cereal down the street and then killing it. Not someone eating it; not someone stepping on it, a spoon getting out of the drawer, out of the house, and chasing the cereal that has also gotten out of the cupboards and out of the house, down the street and then beating it to death. I don’t get it either, folks, but that’s what I picture.
On a side note, one day our neighbor's kids were screaming and harassing our dogs, and the neighbors were doing nothing to stop it. I was tempted to go and tell the kids, in an attempt to scare them, that every time they screamed a piece of cereal died. My mom and three of my friends thought this was brilliant. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. I’ll save it for a rainy day.
When we were done talking about Criminal Minds, cereal killers, and penis sizes, Original Becky and I thought we’d go hit my uncle up for some awesome stories. Since my grandma’s passing, my real aunt is no longer someone we associate with for several reasons that I won’t get into, but no matter how we feel about her, the man she is married to is pretty much the most hysterical person in the world. I hate to say this, but he tops Don. He says more inappropriate things and has more good stories. I’m sorry, Don. I like you both equally, but his stories are better.
Thankfully, funeral or no funeral, Uncle Ray did not disappoint. His line of work consist of him owning his own company which does various work, anything from electrical work, to construction, to painting, to remodeling. You name it, he does it himself with a help from a few employees. Over the years he’s gotten some pretty odd and stupid jobs.
The one that sticks out the most is when he was flown to either Mexico or India. I can’t remember which, and I know they’re not close to each other or anything alike, but it’s been awhile since I heard this story. Anyway, he was flown there because their computer systems weren’t working at a tech support place. He flew the whole way down there only to find that everyone in the office was so smart, they were stupid. They never plugged in the main plug for the computer system. He promptly plugged it in, got on the next flight and came back home all in the same day.
He’s also a bit of a hero here because he fixed the bomb robot for the city police squad about ten years ago. In doing this, he made several friends in the police force. One of them proceeded to get him involved in the following story, which he chose to share with us during the funeral.
The local police station had just gotten all new computers. They offered to have someone come in and set them up so that the police officer on the desk that day didn’t have to mess with it. She said no, that was okay, she was very familiar with computers and would have no problem setting them up during her shift, and it wouldn’t take her long. Obviously this was high priority, because they couldn’t go very long without their computers, being a police station and all, so they told her to go ahead and do it.
Three hours later the computers were set up, everything plugged in, but nothing turned on. Uncle Ray was called. When he got there he went all over everything. Everything looked good, including the way that the plugs were put into the surge protector. What didn’t look good, however, was that she had gone and plugged the surge protector into itself instead of into the wall, because she didn’t know what was going to protect the surge protector from a storm. Apparently, she also didn’t know that the surge protector needs power from the outlet in the wall for this to even be an issue. Folks, she carries a gun. It’s loaded.
Eventually the time came for the service, and Original Becky left, as she didn’t know my gram well enough to feel comfortable staying. This was fine, because she was nice enough to come there for me, to keep me company and show me support and I appreciated it. Right before she left, I was asked to do a eulogy during the service. I had no plans to do a eulogy, because in the crazy suddenness that was my grandma’s death, I simply hadn’t had time to think about it. It all happened so quickly. I didn’t want to agree, but I didn’t really do so, either. Pastor Jan just kind of decided I was going to do it and that was final. The look on my face must of been pretty horrific, because, as Becky was putting her coat on, she said, “It’s okay, just rant like you always do.” Obviously, you see where this is going.
I got up to the podium and the first thing out of my mouth was, “I didn’t have a speech planned for today and I kind of got forced into doing this, so my friend told me to rant like I always do, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Yep, that’s how I started my speech. Luckily, I pulled a bunch of stuff out of my invisible hat and it all went well. People laughed, shook their heads, and agreed with things I said. I could have won an award for the most disorganized, ranty speech to ever exist, but it was a funeral, I was the granddaughter of the deceased and I had no time to prep. I got let off the hook.
Thankfully, I soon became the least interesting thing about the service. I had just sat back down when the best thing that could have ever happened at a funeral for someone with my grandmother’s personality, happened. You see, we have a slightly mentally challenged family member. The booklet to the service was three pages long. The pastor was going into yet another Bible verse when the relative yelled out, “THIS IS A LONG SERVICE!”
My mom and I did the mature thing and cracked up, mostly because it reminded us of the time when we were all one big happy family, and my mom, my aunt, my grandma and myself were seated in a row at another relative’s funeral. The service was going on forever, and all of a sudden one of us cracked up for no good reason. This caused a chain reaction, and there the four of us were laughing hysterical in the middle of the world’s longest funeral service for no good reason, and failing at hiding it. It’s suffice to say that this lady made our day by bringing back a morbidly amusing memory.
As the service ended and people started to disband, my aunt and I were looking for Aunt Sarah. You have to understand that Aunt Sarah is lucky if she’s over four feet tall. This is not an exaggeration, she really is that short. She literally comes to about two inches below my boobies and I’m 5’5.
Earlier in the day, Original Becky, who is 5’8 and then had heels on, had the living daylights scared out of her when she happened to move to the side and out of the bottom of her eye caught Aunt Sarah standing beside her. Aunt Sarah had been there for some time, but being that she was almost two feet shorter than Original Becky, she never noticed until she went to move. I laughed. I’m sorry, Original Becky, but not really.
Anyway, we were trying to figure out if her son had come and retrieved her from the funeral, or if she wanted one of us to take her home since she was in her mid eighties and no longer drove. We looked for that woman and looked for that woman. We even checked behind a few chairs and a really tall podium. I kid you not, we really did, because she is just that short. Do you all want to know where we found her?
Behind Pastor Jan, who is 4’11 at best. So yes, the shortest person in the whole room was having a conversation with, and therefore unintentionally hiding behind the second shortest person in the whole room, and not at all on purpose. Only in my life, people. Only in my life.
Before we parted, I said my goodbyes to grandma. I didn’t know what to say but one thing. “Don’t go running around naked in heaven.” I realize how this sounds, and it’s pretty much like that. We had a running joke that, every time I would talk to her, the last thing I said to her before I hung up the phone, and right after I love you was, I would tell her to be good and not go running naked down the hallways. I thought this was a fitting way to send her into the afterlife, and I don’t think she’d have it any other way.
With all the pain that came with that funeral, and I still feel over her death, I truly found one incredible thing that will keep me tied to her forever. When she was my age, she married. She kept her wedding suit all of her life. I decided to try it on for shits and giggles. It fits me like a glove, like it was made for me. I fit into the one thing she wore on the best day of her life, and that’s the most beautiful way I could wish to be connected to her.
And also in honor of my grandma, I’d like to share a few gems that were excluded from last night’s post regarding online conversations. These came after. I know this would have made her laugh, but I’m still going to apologize for them anyway. Sorry, Grandma.
- Oh, this won’t end well.
I know guys, so that’s so open ended. That could go with just about anything I’ve ever said or done.
- She was writing something and trying to figure out if she should put pants on her character.
- I just washed my pajamas and they smell funny.
- They smell like they were eating pizza and pop tarts.
- And I am in one of those moods where I’m avoiding posting on Facebook because I could piss a lot of people off.
- I fell you?
- I want to know how that works.
- And I want to like it to be nice, but I can’t.
- And now he’s not sure if he likes me or not.
- I’m okay with that.
- The one who is like 10 billion feet tall and afraid of me.
- It’s so funny.
- For me, not him.
- That sounds so dirty.
Again, this could go with any conversation and just about anything I’ve ever said.
- I feel like a loser, OKAY?
- Unless he croaks fairly early, then I’m screwed.
- But you start asking me to do a tutorial that takes longer than ten minutes, and a child could do it in their sleep, you can suck it.
Sorry, Grandma.
- OMG, they’re so country!
I have no room to talk here, folks.
- THAT’S WRONG!
- THAT’S SACRILEGIOUS!
- THAT’S ILLEGAL!
What was that all about, you may wonder? My friend Googling Ian Somerhalder and coming up with pictures of Justin Bieber. I have three questions. Why? How? Why!?
- Then they think I’m nuts.
- Either way, no one messes with a crazy person.
- It’s a win / win.
- I will teach you my crazy ways.
- It was all kinds of special.
This could also show up in all my conversations without fail.
- When I heard they dated I was like, “well, that didn’t go well.”
I would be an awesome matchmaker, no? Oh, no. Right. No.
- Do you want me to sing to it as torture?
- Usually it’s when you say something, and they only do it so you can make an ass out of yourself.
- Can you see him trying to debate country music with Lo?
- I’ll pull something random out of my ass.
Not literally! You guys are sick!
- Some bitch could sneeze twenty miles from me and I’d catch what she has.
- Some really nice lady could sneeze twenty miles from me and I’d catch it, too.
- Ugh, no, hotness is an excuse.
- I mean, being hot is an excuse.
- Eh, same difference.
- I have my killer figured out, too. We’ve got our killers in a row, yo! Sorry about the yo. It rhymed with row.
I'm not sure the yo was the problem with these sentences.
- So, I can’t wait to find out who your killer is.
- Wait!
- Wait!
- Wait!
- That sounded wrong.
- THE BOOTS!
- I figured we already trolled on his mom. Looking up someone’s myspace couldn’t be that creepy, right?
If you have to ask... I always forget that rule.
- And by what can be described only as the Grace of God, I managed to spell David’s last name right on the first try. Just don’t ask me to do it again.
- Let’s recap what we’ve done with our night. We cyberstalked a picture of someone's mom, and successfully cyberstalked the dating status of every single Simple Plan member.
Guys, I had a fever. She’s awesome. Those are our stories and we’re sticking to them.
- We could so outdo Perez Hilton.
- I think we should sing campfire songs to it.
- That’s my answer to everything.
- She’s like, NO IT’S NOT! THE NOSE PICKER?
- Does he smell good? Because if he smells good, jump him.
- I’m such a good influence.
- Find him, smell him, proceed from there.
What have I told you about taking my advice? Right. Don’t do it. Ever.
- Okay, I know I can’t rationalize things that way.
That’s all for today, folks. I’m going to hug my Macbook and thank it a million times over to dislodging whatever was stuck in the mouse that was causing it to malfunction. I would have had a breakdown that would have landed me in a sanitarium had Mrs. Macbook passed.
Also, Zoe, I know there’s nothing in here from our conversation, but the son of a monkey’s uncle didn’t save. Boo.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
I'm Never Licking Anyone!
I am proverbially raping you with blogs already this year, I know. But it's fine because by the middle of the year I'll forget about my New Year's resolution to blog more, and end up gaining ten pounds and crying into a bowl of Cheerios while I watch a movie that no one else would think was sappy. I'm just making up for that now. I'd like to call it active foreshadowing.
Normally when I get online, I go about my business, do what I need to do, throw a few emails back and forth, and then shut the internet off and write, write, write. Tonight I decided to talk to some friends on messenger. Ridiculous hilarity ensued. As I said to my friend, I blog this stuff so I can remember these times. I do it for me. I'm sorry in advance.
All my friends names have been changed with a name of their choosing to protect the innocent. Well, I don't know how innocent they are if they've decided to be friends with me, but still.
- My brain is friend. I am DEAD! DEAD FROM STUPIDITY! DEAD FROM STUPIDITY!
- Anywho, tell your story.
Erratically excitable, you say? I barely know her!
Isis: I was busy looking for a child on Fronterville.
Me: That sounds so pedophile-ish.
Me: But I get what you meant.
Me: If you didn't know what Fronterville was...
Me: I am a horrible, horrible person.
- You're suddenly a demonic spawn from hell.
- Why does the restaurant keep falling for it?
Isis: I'd rather deal with the lady bugs, personally.
Me: They're technically some kind of Asian Beetle.
Me: That was such useless info.
Me: My grandma used to tell me that.
Isis: It was, but it might come in handy when I go on Jeopardy.
Me: Or decide to become Spencer Reid. But never in any other situation.
- I died a little.
- Or is that good because the police didn't arrest him?
- Isis, I don't know what way to go on that!
- If you hear the world Marfan, how do you react?
- See, you get that we use goober here as a term to make fun of someone.
- I didn't realize that's more of a Pennsylvanian thing and no one else finds it funny.
- Or, as my Australian friend says, they use booger as an insult and she relates his name to boogers.
Me: It could be our catchphrase.
Me: It's so night.
Isis: It totes can be our catchphrase.
Me: Look, there's books about a girl who is between a vampire and a werewolf. It's so night is not that bad.
- They all look the same. It's like a bunch of robots pooped out clone font babies.
Isis: That one was too big and looked weird.
Isis: And this one is purple!
Me: That is such an open sentence.
- Did you Google Squeaky Fromme?
- I speak four year old.
Isis: Okay, don't laugh.
Me: It's me.
Me: I have no right.
Me: But his family is definitely more down home country than us.
Isis: yaahaw
Me: There's Santa, and stuffed caribou, and the Bass Pro Shop.
If you can come back to me with the celebrity picture that I'm talking about and aren't Isis or Australian Friend, I will personally fly the first copy of my novel out to you and then take you on vacation.
- That was horrible.
- Disease sauce.
- I'm two.
These were three consecutive IMs in a row made by yours truly. I would explain, but it's not going to help any.
Isis: .....and someone has a sword.
Isis: classy
Me: That's what we do in America, we keep if classy.
Isis: And god spoke to someone to rob Mcdonalds.
Me: That sounds very Pittsburgh-y
Me: We're right on par with our idiocy quota for the year.
- I didn't think that could happen. I thought we had reached the maximum stupidity allowed.
- So I thought fuck this, they're squirrel monkeys.
That, my friends, was just from one conversation. Let me give you excerpts from an entire other that is equally, if not more, ridiculous.
- Whoop, there it is (Gees, hello 90s)
- I think it takes a nap sometimes, or, sometimes I think it stops and has sex with another email it's attracted to.
- I think I successfully confused myself.
- He's such a nerd.
- She should have left him out there.
What have I taught you all? Apparently, if you cross a nerd, just leave them outside. Squirrel Monkeys, never, ever, no matter how drunk you are, take my advice. Ever. No.
- I think I'll be ninety and be all SIMPLE PLAN IS STILL MY FAVORITE BAND, BITCHES!
- PANTS! Always go with pants!
This is possibly the only advice I will ever give that you should listen to. In fact, you MUST listen to it. Now. I see you over there pretending like you have pants on when you don't. GO PUT PANTS ON!
- I mean, guys are so lazy they HAVE TO PUT HOLES IN THEIR UNDERWEAR SO THEY CAN PEE!
- I mean, you know they're super skinny while they're in their clothes. When they're in just boxers, I just want to feed them.
Note to fashion designers. Do not hire people whose weight is comparable to that of a pear to model underwear. It's super creepy and I immediately assume you starved them and should be
jailed.
- I need a minute. Marfan is a funny word.
- I don't have the maturity for life.
- There's nothing funny about it, it's just that it's called Marfan.
- Why is Paget licking him?
- That's a little scary.
- I love Paget.
- But I mean...why would you lick his ear?
- I'm sorry, I'm not licking anyone's ear.
The picture is totally suitable for work, Squirrel Monkeys. Blame Australian Friend for this. She sent it to me, I'm passing it on. And in direct correlation to that, we have this.
- Maybe they're dating?
- Ahaha
- I cracked myself up.
- I'm sorry.
You may think I'm nuts, but you know you should be jealous. Do you see the shit that cracks me up? It does not take much, and because of that, I'm consistently rolling on the floor and drooling in a ball of shits and giggles. I will never find a date.
- GERTI GIGGLES!
- Omg that's a funny name!
- No pun intended!
- It came to me this morning and I was all, "I'll remember it," as I rolled back over and went back to sleep. I lied to myself.
- It was a really stupid rant, too, and it was so perfect.
- I'm such a pushy little bitch.
- I think it had to do with snails.
- I'm absolutely sure he has issues.
- Not the band kind, though.
- Holy shit, I think I just had a heart attack.
- Wait, I should explain not literally.
I learned a very important lesson tonight. It's bad to type that to someone when they can't see you, but know you have heart problems. Very bad.
- I'm calling he's the milkman's kid.
- I have to have a moment here and be totally obscurely out of line. I know you're shocked by this.
- So that would put his brother at 16, and 16 year olds are completely horny little nimphs.
- I'm so sorry I'm so ridiculous.
- I hope I never get eaten by a vampire.
You all have to know how drunken stupor stupid I was here. I don't get into the whole vampire thing.
- Too much makeup, don't you think?
- Yes, yes I do.
- Unless he's a wax figure, then he's fine.
Okay, you can all go back to your tea and coffee now. I'm sorry for an drain bamage I could have caused. Err, I mean brain damage.
Normally when I get online, I go about my business, do what I need to do, throw a few emails back and forth, and then shut the internet off and write, write, write. Tonight I decided to talk to some friends on messenger. Ridiculous hilarity ensued. As I said to my friend, I blog this stuff so I can remember these times. I do it for me. I'm sorry in advance.
All my friends names have been changed with a name of their choosing to protect the innocent. Well, I don't know how innocent they are if they've decided to be friends with me, but still.
- My brain is friend. I am DEAD! DEAD FROM STUPIDITY! DEAD FROM STUPIDITY!
- Anywho, tell your story.
Erratically excitable, you say? I barely know her!
Isis: I was busy looking for a child on Fronterville.
Me: That sounds so pedophile-ish.
Me: But I get what you meant.
Me: If you didn't know what Fronterville was...
Me: I am a horrible, horrible person.
- You're suddenly a demonic spawn from hell.
- Why does the restaurant keep falling for it?
Isis: I'd rather deal with the lady bugs, personally.
Me: They're technically some kind of Asian Beetle.
Me: That was such useless info.
Me: My grandma used to tell me that.
Isis: It was, but it might come in handy when I go on Jeopardy.
Me: Or decide to become Spencer Reid. But never in any other situation.
- I died a little.
- Or is that good because the police didn't arrest him?
- Isis, I don't know what way to go on that!
- If you hear the world Marfan, how do you react?
- See, you get that we use goober here as a term to make fun of someone.
- I didn't realize that's more of a Pennsylvanian thing and no one else finds it funny.
- Or, as my Australian friend says, they use booger as an insult and she relates his name to boogers.
Me: It could be our catchphrase.
Me: It's so night.
Isis: It totes can be our catchphrase.
Me: Look, there's books about a girl who is between a vampire and a werewolf. It's so night is not that bad.
- They all look the same. It's like a bunch of robots pooped out clone font babies.
Isis: That one was too big and looked weird.
Isis: And this one is purple!
Me: That is such an open sentence.
- Did you Google Squeaky Fromme?
- I speak four year old.
Isis: Okay, don't laugh.
Me: It's me.
Me: I have no right.
Me: But his family is definitely more down home country than us.
Isis: yaahaw
Me: There's Santa, and stuffed caribou, and the Bass Pro Shop.
If you can come back to me with the celebrity picture that I'm talking about and aren't Isis or Australian Friend, I will personally fly the first copy of my novel out to you and then take you on vacation.
- That was horrible.
- Disease sauce.
- I'm two.
These were three consecutive IMs in a row made by yours truly. I would explain, but it's not going to help any.
Isis: .....and someone has a sword.
Isis: classy
Me: That's what we do in America, we keep if classy.
Isis: And god spoke to someone to rob Mcdonalds.
Me: That sounds very Pittsburgh-y
Me: We're right on par with our idiocy quota for the year.
- I didn't think that could happen. I thought we had reached the maximum stupidity allowed.
- So I thought fuck this, they're squirrel monkeys.
That, my friends, was just from one conversation. Let me give you excerpts from an entire other that is equally, if not more, ridiculous.
- Whoop, there it is (Gees, hello 90s)
- I think it takes a nap sometimes, or, sometimes I think it stops and has sex with another email it's attracted to.
- I think I successfully confused myself.
- He's such a nerd.
- She should have left him out there.
What have I taught you all? Apparently, if you cross a nerd, just leave them outside. Squirrel Monkeys, never, ever, no matter how drunk you are, take my advice. Ever. No.
- I think I'll be ninety and be all SIMPLE PLAN IS STILL MY FAVORITE BAND, BITCHES!
- PANTS! Always go with pants!
This is possibly the only advice I will ever give that you should listen to. In fact, you MUST listen to it. Now. I see you over there pretending like you have pants on when you don't. GO PUT PANTS ON!
- I mean, guys are so lazy they HAVE TO PUT HOLES IN THEIR UNDERWEAR SO THEY CAN PEE!
- I mean, you know they're super skinny while they're in their clothes. When they're in just boxers, I just want to feed them.
Note to fashion designers. Do not hire people whose weight is comparable to that of a pear to model underwear. It's super creepy and I immediately assume you starved them and should be
jailed.
- I need a minute. Marfan is a funny word.
- I don't have the maturity for life.
- There's nothing funny about it, it's just that it's called Marfan.
- Why is Paget licking him?
- That's a little scary.
- I love Paget.
- But I mean...why would you lick his ear?
- I'm sorry, I'm not licking anyone's ear.
The picture is totally suitable for work, Squirrel Monkeys. Blame Australian Friend for this. She sent it to me, I'm passing it on. And in direct correlation to that, we have this.
- Maybe they're dating?
- Ahaha
- I cracked myself up.
- I'm sorry.
You may think I'm nuts, but you know you should be jealous. Do you see the shit that cracks me up? It does not take much, and because of that, I'm consistently rolling on the floor and drooling in a ball of shits and giggles. I will never find a date.
- GERTI GIGGLES!
- Omg that's a funny name!
- No pun intended!
- It came to me this morning and I was all, "I'll remember it," as I rolled back over and went back to sleep. I lied to myself.
- It was a really stupid rant, too, and it was so perfect.
- I'm such a pushy little bitch.
- I think it had to do with snails.
- I'm absolutely sure he has issues.
- Not the band kind, though.
- Holy shit, I think I just had a heart attack.
- Wait, I should explain not literally.
I learned a very important lesson tonight. It's bad to type that to someone when they can't see you, but know you have heart problems. Very bad.
- I'm calling he's the milkman's kid.
- I have to have a moment here and be totally obscurely out of line. I know you're shocked by this.
- So that would put his brother at 16, and 16 year olds are completely horny little nimphs.
- I'm so sorry I'm so ridiculous.
- I hope I never get eaten by a vampire.
You all have to know how drunken stupor stupid I was here. I don't get into the whole vampire thing.
- Too much makeup, don't you think?
- Yes, yes I do.
- Unless he's a wax figure, then he's fine.
Okay, you can all go back to your tea and coffee now. I'm sorry for an drain bamage I could have caused. Err, I mean brain damage.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
This Message Is Greta Hayley Approved
She's even sitting five feet from me, upside down, of course, and smiling. That says it all.
Last night my mom and I played the game of Life...and if it's an omen, I am screwed. Even though I'm thinking that probably doesn't cover it.
The game started out innocently enough. The first game consisted of us not remembering how to play it, having to stop and read directions and basically doing a bunch of stuff wrong. I won, but I still lost. How, you ask? I got to the finish line first and had the least money. Of course, we also finished out the game incorrectly, so it's kinda hard to say. Okay, it's not. I was broke compared to my mom. I lost. Then I decided that since we knew what we were doing, we'd play a second game correctly. This was quite possibly the worst and funniest idea ever, all mixed in one.
The game started out okay, and then I lost all my money and very quickly needed to borrow promissory notes. As my mom points out, she's never seen anyone ever need promissory notes, ever, in all the years she's played the game. That's okay, because that didn't stop me from piling them on. I needed, like, ten of them. This may not be the exact number, but it was seriously somewhere around there. I got to the end of the game, made some money, and was just able to pay them back. Only, I finished with so little money that I'd be embarrassed to tell you the exact amount.
My mom, on the other hand, hit everything lucky. She had money, a wife, and landed on all the great spaces. What's that? You want me to go back and explain how my completely straight mother had a wife? Okay...sure.
If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you're very well aware that my Mom and Aunt Bev, who are both straight, joke about how they would be the perfect couple. So while we were playing the game the first time, we were discussing how the game is morally out of date, as now gay and lesbian couples can get married, and therefore it should be just fine to marry someone of the same sex, and then adopt your kids instead of physically birthing them. My mom decided to do just that. When she landed on the spot that forced you to stop and get married, which is just so non modern, she decided to marry Aunt Bev and put another female in her car. Really, she did. I even have the text to prove it.
* We're playing Life, and my mom had to stop and collect a spouse, so she decided to marry Aunt Bev. So now her car has two girls in it.
From there, she and Aunt Bev had four kids; two boys and two girls, and the girls were twins. This was hilarious enough and definitely with the times. Upon my mom hanging out with Aunt Bev today, she came home and told me that she and Aunt Bev had a discussion, and their twins, Jessica and Jennifer, now have grown up and just moved into their first apartment together. I don't know what to say here other than Mazel Tov, and I'm not Jewish. They're not lesbians either...so it works.
I, on the other hand, had a very tragic ending to the game. No, I'm not talking about the said aforementioned losing. I'm not even talking about how I had to borrow three promissory notes to "donate" $50,000 to an orphanage because my ovaries decided to reject growing and popping out children. I'm talking about how my car finished alone. How is that possible, you ask? Well, I'd be glad to clear that up for you.
About midway through the game, my female driver, I.E. fake me, decided to jump ship. Sure, it was just a pink peg that I could have put back in the car, but I figured that the game was going so badly, that this was probably a sign, and really, she probably hadn't just fallen out like all good pegs do at one time or another. She had committed suicide. Pure, unadulterated suicide. She just couldn't take how far her family was in debt, or how many promissory notes she had. Therefore, I did her, or myself, a favor, and left her there. She was but a mere casualty of the game in Life, left right in the middle of the road on the space that informed me I had to pay interest on my promissory notes with the invisible money I did not have.
It wasn't long before the husband, somehow driving from the passenger seat, came along the space where he was forced to pay a ton of money for an inherited skunk farm that his Uncle had left him. He sincerely debated what to do, but after realizing he had also inherited on hundred cats off his Aunt earlier in the game and had to take out promissory notes for that, too, ones that he had yet to pay back, he followed in his wives footsteps and junked out on the rest of the game.
From there, my luck got good enough to finish the game with no promissory notes and little money. What I'm saying here, folks, is that the people in my car were a bad omen. The car itself, well, it did pretty damn good alone. I don't know how it drove itself. It must have had some Knight Rider type powers, but I don't question it. All I know is that I lost, but at least I didn't owe any money when I did it. I realize that's not any consolation, but it's all I got. Don't ruin this for me.
I am also just looking over my texts, because I know I sent some out about how awesomely hilarious this game ended up being, and I must share anything that I could have possibly forgotten. Which would be the following.
* Stitch also attacked the game board, so basically he's Godzilla to the game of Life.
He really, really was. We're right in the middle of the first game; the far less disastrous one, and all of a sudden, he jumped on the game board and pranced around like he owned the world. He really gave the people in the cars a good scare. He even almost managed to wreck one of the roads that was coming off, so I ended up having to tape it back down. Seriously, though, I think I should have taken out my phone and, instead of texting, video taped his rampage. It could have been the next blockbuster. Okay, fine, so it could have been an awesome re-take on Godzilla. I mean, cats are cuter than apes. It could work. Don't ruin this for me, either.
Needless to say, for my humor, this was pretty much the funniest game I've ever played in my life. No pun intended. This tops both bowling sober and being beat out by a drunk guy when Becky's and my scores were combined, and several rip roaring holiday games of Mall Madness. If you've ever played Mall Madness, this speaks for itself.
This Saturday is Leo's birthday party. Leo is my dog. Aunt Bev is coming over, and I think since we have no movie to watch on this special night like we normally do on our party nights, we shall all have to play Life AND Mall Madness just so I have something to blog about. I'm gonna try to make this happen. You with me, Ladies?
In other, much more important news, if you are the praying kind, please pray for my Grandma. She is in the hospital and not doing well. I'm not asking you to pray for things to work out perfect for her, or for all of us that really don't want to lose her, because the world is not perfect. I'm asking that you pray for what is right for her, and for God's will to work itself out. I have full faith that he knows what is right for her. I love my Grandma dearly, so please, even if you're not the praying kind, make an exception. For Grandma.
If you do, I will even share fun texts with you. Oh, screw it, I was going to do it anyway. And I apologize that I only have a few texts this time, and a very small amount of IMs, but I've barely been online / on my phone, or sociable, because there's just been so much going on. Especially emotionally with the worry about my Grandma. I'll try to make them fun, anyway. I'm just going to get to the point.
IMs, because there's more of them, but they're funnier and more pointless at the same time. Double score:
* Because ultimately, the person you're in a relationship with should be your best friend.
This starts out well enough, but in the very next sentence, in the very same IM, this is exactly what happens, steering this otherwise true thought, into muddy, uncivilized waters.
... I'm not saying you have to have slumber parties, or paint each other's nails here...but damn.
Okay, I'm totally saying that you have to have non sexual slumber parties and paint each other's nails. Because if a guy isn't willing to don the hot pink, and he can't paint your nails all pretty so you can avoid paying to get them done, then what good is he? Where's the dedication? Where's the talent?
* You know what's even weirder, is when you put x.x and I didn't see the period between them, I was all, "Is she trying to tell me something XX."
She wasn't. She was trying to make a face on the computer. You know, X-ed out eyes, X-ed out mouth? Only I liked my explanation better...
* And a love story. Supernatural: Not a love story.
Unless you think that two brothers touring the nation and whacking demons is a love story. If you do, then I really am unsure if I want to make you my best friend, or if I would literally move to another country to get away from you.
* He, on the other hand, picks pockets.
Relax. Although I know this could explain a lot of people, it's concerning someone in one of my novels, and isn't based on anyone I know. At least I don't think it is. Actually, it could be. Wait, where's my ten?
* Even if Jensen Ackles ran around without a shirt for the whole episode, it isn't worth it.
Okay, I know there's really no reason this should ever be a true statement, but you guys, there's a Supernatural episode about clowns. Even if he was naked...he is not worth an episode about killer clowns. KILLER CLOWNS! Yesh! No wonder kids hate clowns!
* ilu8 looks like a hula dance. Don't ask me why, but I see ilu8 and I think of hula dancing. Please tell me that made sense to someone, somewhere.
It made sense to Becky 3, and she agreed that ilu8 looks like hula. If I'm crazy, I'm not alone. That's all that really matters at the end of life. You're not alone. Unless you're talking the game of Life, then that's pretty much the only way to win; get more money alone than the other players.
* Toot is right up there with Uranus for me.
Listen, we've already discussed that I'm one of "those" people when it comes to Uranus. Is it really any shock that I can't hold a straight face when someone says toot?
Becky 3 and I also decided we were tired of people, so we were finding an otherwise uninhabited island and planting our own flag on it, therefore claiming it. Or stealing it. I think we settled on having to steal it, but let's just go with "claiming" it because it sounds more legal. Probably because it is. Oh, and we're also making it our own country. One island. Anyway, you can only visit us by invitation, and we figured we'll lie and try to make it sound like some really awesome retreat so that we can get celebrities to come. We've already decided on several who we will be sending our invitations to once we get the whole finding an uninhabited island and building housing on it thing taken care of. The list includes Jensen Ackles, because we want to look at him. Brendon Urie...because he amuses us with his ADHD. Pete Wentz, because we want to see what he would really do without police there to stop him, and somewhere that it was impossible for him to get arrested. In hindsight, that's probably not such a good idea. Tell us something we don't know. (Seriously, you fell for that link? Oh, and wasn't she just uber adorable with this song on Dancing With the Stars tonight?) Then we decided we could also have one old guy each, so she went with Alan Rickman, and I picked George Eads. Oh, shut up. You are so not surprised by this. In the epicness of all of this, I feel the need to share the juicy parts of our IM on how this came about.
Me: Should we start making a list of people who are allowed? I'm thinking with us it's going to be a lot of hot guys / celebs, and we're going to have to send them invitations. As creepy as that is, as long as we make them pretty, I'm convinced it will be okay. No one can hate pretty.
Becky: You're right. Pretty = good. And shiny. (There's obvious reasons we're friends here, folks.)
Me: YES! And friendly. (Can invitations really be friendly? Isn't that a human trait? Can inanimate objects take on human traits? Let's just say they can and be done with it. More on this later.)
Becky: You gotta have sparkles, too.
Me: (Regarding them being the aforementioned "friendly.") We won't be all, "Hi, we just stole an island, and we think you're hot, so you have to come." They'll say stuff like, "You're cordially invited to a very special event on: *Insert Island Name Here* We would be absolutely glorified to have you as our guest. Instead of, "Look, we have an island, you're hot, come visit." (I've also decided that the island's name is now officially Insert Island Name Here. Catchy, no?)
Becky: Yes. Oh wait...we're not kidnapping them and keeping them there? (Really, you're still curious about why we're friends. She's the genius to my evil. Or maybe that's visa versa. I'm not sure. I'll ask her. She can pick.)
Me: Umm. I mean. Well... (That should have been a no, but since we're already doing something illegal, why the heck not? Everyone needs to throw caution to the wind sometimes. Whomever coined that phrase, I'm sure is rolling in their grave now, smashing their head repeatedly off of pointy things just hoping to feel something that comes similar to the sound of their poor, dead heart breaking over the misconstrued way we're taking their words.)
Becky: I mean, they'll want to stay because it's soo awesome anyway. (Yes, soo, with two o's. I could insert a joke here, but my Mom and Aunt Bev read this blog. Besides, Aunt Bev, would you like to take this one? You, with all the articles about underwear that push you up and out, and vibrators, that you're saving for me? And when I get them, I promise to explain this better and post them on here.)
Me: Okay, look, let's do this. We're cute girls. Let's let them come to our island several at a time, so it's not creepy, and we'll just charm them. If they stay, they stay. If not, we won't make them, but we will friend them so they keep coming back, and we'll win them over in the end.
Becky: O. Okay. I like that better.
Me: I think it will work beautifully. I mean, we're charming enough to win them over.
The conversation was fairly sub par while we figured out who we were inviting, then once we figured out we were each inviting one older guy, we realized this.
Me: I think maybe we're creepy. And if those are our old guys, how old can we go before anyone else is considered an old guy? Oh god, we are. (Yes, we are creepy. But not window peeking creepy. Just verbally creepy. Okay, not even that. Just keyboard creepy.)
In the end, we decided 35 - 39 tops. I think it's obvious at our ages of early twenties, we like older guys, if that's what we're considering old. If not, I have no other reasoning for the twelve years of flexibility we've allowed ourselves.
Texts concerning Supernatural.
* This dude just said, "If it bit them in the persqueeter." And he didn't crack a smile. Is persqueeter a word?
Okay, look, it's already been discussed that I'm probably the only person who would hear this line, and instead of cracking up, immediately text someone and ask them if persqueeter was a word. You would think with a mind like that, I watch a lot of the History channel, or something, but no. I am, however, a fan of TLC, although I think the name, The Learning Channel, is an oxymoron, as all I've learned from it is how to pick a wedding dress that flatters, and what it's like to raise eight kids. Just saying...but that's not the point. The point is, persqueeter is a word. I looked it up. It does not mean ass, which I thought was an awesome initial assumption. I will not say what it means, but if you're curious, look it up on the urban dictionary. Don't say I didn't warn you.
* Last night I woke up to the theme from Supernatural, as my DVD reverted back to the menu. What I want to know is how in the hell did I fall asleep watching guys that hot? That's illegal somewhere.
In case I need to remind you, hello Jensen and Jared. I mean, seriously. And it wasn't even late. For those of you who know me, you know this is some kind of mortal sin. I'm an insomniac. It's rare I can even sleep, and then to fall asleep during Supernatural? Yeah, I can't figure it out either. (Alright, guys, no, I do not watch the show because they're hot. I really, really enjoy the plotline, as ridiculous as it may seem. I'm hooked. The fact that they're hot; it's just a bonus.)
* "We're using a Spongebob tablecloth in place of an alter covering?" ... "Well, just put it Spongebob side down."
Okay, this makes me want to take a day and visit a ton of churches, turning their alter covers upside down just to see if Spongebob is beneath any of them. If he is, I'm totally "creatively borrowing" their alter covers. And by creatively borrowing, I mean stealing. So basically what I'm saying is that I could go to jail over Spongebob. How many people can say that?
* My neighbor, Mr. Rogers, tried to kill me, so I was forced to kill him." ... "So wait, you killed Mr. Rogers?" ... "Yes." ... "Okay. I just had to get that straight."
This is hilarious considering Mr. Rogers was Mr. Do-Gooder. Now, guys, I realize there's been a rumor going around that Mr. Rogers was actually a Navy Seal. And I know this is going to come as a shock to my Mom, but he was not, actually. I've done some extensive research on that, and it is nothing more but an urban legend and has been repeatedly confirmed as not true. There are exactly zero listings of him ever being in the Military, Army, Navy Seals, etc. It's just not true. So for those of you laughing and thinking Mr. Rogers could have actually kicked the guys ass before he killed him, it's not true. Well, I mean, maybe he could have, but being a Minister, I think that might be unholy or something. I can't say for sure. If someone's trying to kill you and your only choice is to kill them first, what is a Minister to do? (No, really, does anyone know the answer to this?)
Yesterday I got a text from Becky asking me if she came with a warning label, what it would be. It was one of those awesome mass texts, so of course I wanted to have the best answer. I'm sure I didn't, but I definitely had the best backpedaling.
* WARNING: Have boobs, will travel.
For obvious reasons, I realized three minutes later just how bad that sounded. Yeah, it took me that long to become a big enough pervert to realize it, but I did.
* I promise your warning label was not meant to make you sound like a whore. I'm just saying...damn, you got boobs.
And she does. Just ask her. I mean, it's not that I'm looking at her boobs, but we're girls. We shop together. We make fun of our boobs together, and complain about our boobs together. Yes, guys, girls really do that. Don't you wish you were a fly on a sorority wall? Okay, you already wished that, but don't you just wish that more now?
* Wait! Wait...WARNING: Damn, I got boobs.
I think I got it that time. Or not.
Reasons I should never be allowed to watch Dancing With the Stars.
* I just used the phrase "They're having a ball with whomever has their hand up that puppet."
How does this have to do with DWTS, you ask? Did you even watch it last night? Did you see how the Muppets were on there, and the one played a saxophone in the one judge's ear. Yeah, I could try to spell his name, but I don't think that's fair to do that to a person. His first name is Bruno. From there it's just a jumble of letters that I will never get in the correct order. Anyway, it was funny. Then, the puppet made friends with good ole' Bruno and it was awesome. So yes, I think my comment was warranted. Whomever was controlling that puppet, they were having a blast. And kids, I'm just kidding. That wasn't a puppet. That was a real Muppet. *Whistles innocently*
I think I'll just stop here before I ruin Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny for anyone else. Because they're totally real. Totally.
Last night my mom and I played the game of Life...and if it's an omen, I am screwed. Even though I'm thinking that probably doesn't cover it.
The game started out innocently enough. The first game consisted of us not remembering how to play it, having to stop and read directions and basically doing a bunch of stuff wrong. I won, but I still lost. How, you ask? I got to the finish line first and had the least money. Of course, we also finished out the game incorrectly, so it's kinda hard to say. Okay, it's not. I was broke compared to my mom. I lost. Then I decided that since we knew what we were doing, we'd play a second game correctly. This was quite possibly the worst and funniest idea ever, all mixed in one.
The game started out okay, and then I lost all my money and very quickly needed to borrow promissory notes. As my mom points out, she's never seen anyone ever need promissory notes, ever, in all the years she's played the game. That's okay, because that didn't stop me from piling them on. I needed, like, ten of them. This may not be the exact number, but it was seriously somewhere around there. I got to the end of the game, made some money, and was just able to pay them back. Only, I finished with so little money that I'd be embarrassed to tell you the exact amount.
My mom, on the other hand, hit everything lucky. She had money, a wife, and landed on all the great spaces. What's that? You want me to go back and explain how my completely straight mother had a wife? Okay...sure.
If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you're very well aware that my Mom and Aunt Bev, who are both straight, joke about how they would be the perfect couple. So while we were playing the game the first time, we were discussing how the game is morally out of date, as now gay and lesbian couples can get married, and therefore it should be just fine to marry someone of the same sex, and then adopt your kids instead of physically birthing them. My mom decided to do just that. When she landed on the spot that forced you to stop and get married, which is just so non modern, she decided to marry Aunt Bev and put another female in her car. Really, she did. I even have the text to prove it.
* We're playing Life, and my mom had to stop and collect a spouse, so she decided to marry Aunt Bev. So now her car has two girls in it.
From there, she and Aunt Bev had four kids; two boys and two girls, and the girls were twins. This was hilarious enough and definitely with the times. Upon my mom hanging out with Aunt Bev today, she came home and told me that she and Aunt Bev had a discussion, and their twins, Jessica and Jennifer, now have grown up and just moved into their first apartment together. I don't know what to say here other than Mazel Tov, and I'm not Jewish. They're not lesbians either...so it works.
I, on the other hand, had a very tragic ending to the game. No, I'm not talking about the said aforementioned losing. I'm not even talking about how I had to borrow three promissory notes to "donate" $50,000 to an orphanage because my ovaries decided to reject growing and popping out children. I'm talking about how my car finished alone. How is that possible, you ask? Well, I'd be glad to clear that up for you.
About midway through the game, my female driver, I.E. fake me, decided to jump ship. Sure, it was just a pink peg that I could have put back in the car, but I figured that the game was going so badly, that this was probably a sign, and really, she probably hadn't just fallen out like all good pegs do at one time or another. She had committed suicide. Pure, unadulterated suicide. She just couldn't take how far her family was in debt, or how many promissory notes she had. Therefore, I did her, or myself, a favor, and left her there. She was but a mere casualty of the game in Life, left right in the middle of the road on the space that informed me I had to pay interest on my promissory notes with the invisible money I did not have.
It wasn't long before the husband, somehow driving from the passenger seat, came along the space where he was forced to pay a ton of money for an inherited skunk farm that his Uncle had left him. He sincerely debated what to do, but after realizing he had also inherited on hundred cats off his Aunt earlier in the game and had to take out promissory notes for that, too, ones that he had yet to pay back, he followed in his wives footsteps and junked out on the rest of the game.
From there, my luck got good enough to finish the game with no promissory notes and little money. What I'm saying here, folks, is that the people in my car were a bad omen. The car itself, well, it did pretty damn good alone. I don't know how it drove itself. It must have had some Knight Rider type powers, but I don't question it. All I know is that I lost, but at least I didn't owe any money when I did it. I realize that's not any consolation, but it's all I got. Don't ruin this for me.
I am also just looking over my texts, because I know I sent some out about how awesomely hilarious this game ended up being, and I must share anything that I could have possibly forgotten. Which would be the following.
* Stitch also attacked the game board, so basically he's Godzilla to the game of Life.
He really, really was. We're right in the middle of the first game; the far less disastrous one, and all of a sudden, he jumped on the game board and pranced around like he owned the world. He really gave the people in the cars a good scare. He even almost managed to wreck one of the roads that was coming off, so I ended up having to tape it back down. Seriously, though, I think I should have taken out my phone and, instead of texting, video taped his rampage. It could have been the next blockbuster. Okay, fine, so it could have been an awesome re-take on Godzilla. I mean, cats are cuter than apes. It could work. Don't ruin this for me, either.
Needless to say, for my humor, this was pretty much the funniest game I've ever played in my life. No pun intended. This tops both bowling sober and being beat out by a drunk guy when Becky's and my scores were combined, and several rip roaring holiday games of Mall Madness. If you've ever played Mall Madness, this speaks for itself.
This Saturday is Leo's birthday party. Leo is my dog. Aunt Bev is coming over, and I think since we have no movie to watch on this special night like we normally do on our party nights, we shall all have to play Life AND Mall Madness just so I have something to blog about. I'm gonna try to make this happen. You with me, Ladies?
In other, much more important news, if you are the praying kind, please pray for my Grandma. She is in the hospital and not doing well. I'm not asking you to pray for things to work out perfect for her, or for all of us that really don't want to lose her, because the world is not perfect. I'm asking that you pray for what is right for her, and for God's will to work itself out. I have full faith that he knows what is right for her. I love my Grandma dearly, so please, even if you're not the praying kind, make an exception. For Grandma.
If you do, I will even share fun texts with you. Oh, screw it, I was going to do it anyway. And I apologize that I only have a few texts this time, and a very small amount of IMs, but I've barely been online / on my phone, or sociable, because there's just been so much going on. Especially emotionally with the worry about my Grandma. I'll try to make them fun, anyway. I'm just going to get to the point.
IMs, because there's more of them, but they're funnier and more pointless at the same time. Double score:
* Because ultimately, the person you're in a relationship with should be your best friend.
This starts out well enough, but in the very next sentence, in the very same IM, this is exactly what happens, steering this otherwise true thought, into muddy, uncivilized waters.
... I'm not saying you have to have slumber parties, or paint each other's nails here...but damn.
Okay, I'm totally saying that you have to have non sexual slumber parties and paint each other's nails. Because if a guy isn't willing to don the hot pink, and he can't paint your nails all pretty so you can avoid paying to get them done, then what good is he? Where's the dedication? Where's the talent?
* You know what's even weirder, is when you put x.x and I didn't see the period between them, I was all, "Is she trying to tell me something XX."
She wasn't. She was trying to make a face on the computer. You know, X-ed out eyes, X-ed out mouth? Only I liked my explanation better...
* And a love story. Supernatural: Not a love story.
Unless you think that two brothers touring the nation and whacking demons is a love story. If you do, then I really am unsure if I want to make you my best friend, or if I would literally move to another country to get away from you.
* He, on the other hand, picks pockets.
Relax. Although I know this could explain a lot of people, it's concerning someone in one of my novels, and isn't based on anyone I know. At least I don't think it is. Actually, it could be. Wait, where's my ten?
* Even if Jensen Ackles ran around without a shirt for the whole episode, it isn't worth it.
Okay, I know there's really no reason this should ever be a true statement, but you guys, there's a Supernatural episode about clowns. Even if he was naked...he is not worth an episode about killer clowns. KILLER CLOWNS! Yesh! No wonder kids hate clowns!
* ilu8 looks like a hula dance. Don't ask me why, but I see ilu8 and I think of hula dancing. Please tell me that made sense to someone, somewhere.
It made sense to Becky 3, and she agreed that ilu8 looks like hula. If I'm crazy, I'm not alone. That's all that really matters at the end of life. You're not alone. Unless you're talking the game of Life, then that's pretty much the only way to win; get more money alone than the other players.
* Toot is right up there with Uranus for me.
Listen, we've already discussed that I'm one of "those" people when it comes to Uranus. Is it really any shock that I can't hold a straight face when someone says toot?
Becky 3 and I also decided we were tired of people, so we were finding an otherwise uninhabited island and planting our own flag on it, therefore claiming it. Or stealing it. I think we settled on having to steal it, but let's just go with "claiming" it because it sounds more legal. Probably because it is. Oh, and we're also making it our own country. One island. Anyway, you can only visit us by invitation, and we figured we'll lie and try to make it sound like some really awesome retreat so that we can get celebrities to come. We've already decided on several who we will be sending our invitations to once we get the whole finding an uninhabited island and building housing on it thing taken care of. The list includes Jensen Ackles, because we want to look at him. Brendon Urie...because he amuses us with his ADHD. Pete Wentz, because we want to see what he would really do without police there to stop him, and somewhere that it was impossible for him to get arrested. In hindsight, that's probably not such a good idea. Tell us something we don't know. (Seriously, you fell for that link? Oh, and wasn't she just uber adorable with this song on Dancing With the Stars tonight?) Then we decided we could also have one old guy each, so she went with Alan Rickman, and I picked George Eads. Oh, shut up. You are so not surprised by this. In the epicness of all of this, I feel the need to share the juicy parts of our IM on how this came about.
Me: Should we start making a list of people who are allowed? I'm thinking with us it's going to be a lot of hot guys / celebs, and we're going to have to send them invitations. As creepy as that is, as long as we make them pretty, I'm convinced it will be okay. No one can hate pretty.
Becky: You're right. Pretty = good. And shiny. (There's obvious reasons we're friends here, folks.)
Me: YES! And friendly. (Can invitations really be friendly? Isn't that a human trait? Can inanimate objects take on human traits? Let's just say they can and be done with it. More on this later.)
Becky: You gotta have sparkles, too.
Me: (Regarding them being the aforementioned "friendly.") We won't be all, "Hi, we just stole an island, and we think you're hot, so you have to come." They'll say stuff like, "You're cordially invited to a very special event on: *Insert Island Name Here* We would be absolutely glorified to have you as our guest. Instead of, "Look, we have an island, you're hot, come visit." (I've also decided that the island's name is now officially Insert Island Name Here. Catchy, no?)
Becky: Yes. Oh wait...we're not kidnapping them and keeping them there? (Really, you're still curious about why we're friends. She's the genius to my evil. Or maybe that's visa versa. I'm not sure. I'll ask her. She can pick.)
Me: Umm. I mean. Well... (That should have been a no, but since we're already doing something illegal, why the heck not? Everyone needs to throw caution to the wind sometimes. Whomever coined that phrase, I'm sure is rolling in their grave now, smashing their head repeatedly off of pointy things just hoping to feel something that comes similar to the sound of their poor, dead heart breaking over the misconstrued way we're taking their words.)
Becky: I mean, they'll want to stay because it's soo awesome anyway. (Yes, soo, with two o's. I could insert a joke here, but my Mom and Aunt Bev read this blog. Besides, Aunt Bev, would you like to take this one? You, with all the articles about underwear that push you up and out, and vibrators, that you're saving for me? And when I get them, I promise to explain this better and post them on here.)
Me: Okay, look, let's do this. We're cute girls. Let's let them come to our island several at a time, so it's not creepy, and we'll just charm them. If they stay, they stay. If not, we won't make them, but we will friend them so they keep coming back, and we'll win them over in the end.
Becky: O. Okay. I like that better.
Me: I think it will work beautifully. I mean, we're charming enough to win them over.
The conversation was fairly sub par while we figured out who we were inviting, then once we figured out we were each inviting one older guy, we realized this.
Me: I think maybe we're creepy. And if those are our old guys, how old can we go before anyone else is considered an old guy? Oh god, we are. (Yes, we are creepy. But not window peeking creepy. Just verbally creepy. Okay, not even that. Just keyboard creepy.)
In the end, we decided 35 - 39 tops. I think it's obvious at our ages of early twenties, we like older guys, if that's what we're considering old. If not, I have no other reasoning for the twelve years of flexibility we've allowed ourselves.
Texts concerning Supernatural.
* This dude just said, "If it bit them in the persqueeter." And he didn't crack a smile. Is persqueeter a word?
Okay, look, it's already been discussed that I'm probably the only person who would hear this line, and instead of cracking up, immediately text someone and ask them if persqueeter was a word. You would think with a mind like that, I watch a lot of the History channel, or something, but no. I am, however, a fan of TLC, although I think the name, The Learning Channel, is an oxymoron, as all I've learned from it is how to pick a wedding dress that flatters, and what it's like to raise eight kids. Just saying...but that's not the point. The point is, persqueeter is a word. I looked it up. It does not mean ass, which I thought was an awesome initial assumption. I will not say what it means, but if you're curious, look it up on the urban dictionary. Don't say I didn't warn you.
* Last night I woke up to the theme from Supernatural, as my DVD reverted back to the menu. What I want to know is how in the hell did I fall asleep watching guys that hot? That's illegal somewhere.
In case I need to remind you, hello Jensen and Jared. I mean, seriously. And it wasn't even late. For those of you who know me, you know this is some kind of mortal sin. I'm an insomniac. It's rare I can even sleep, and then to fall asleep during Supernatural? Yeah, I can't figure it out either. (Alright, guys, no, I do not watch the show because they're hot. I really, really enjoy the plotline, as ridiculous as it may seem. I'm hooked. The fact that they're hot; it's just a bonus.)
* "We're using a Spongebob tablecloth in place of an alter covering?" ... "Well, just put it Spongebob side down."
Okay, this makes me want to take a day and visit a ton of churches, turning their alter covers upside down just to see if Spongebob is beneath any of them. If he is, I'm totally "creatively borrowing" their alter covers. And by creatively borrowing, I mean stealing. So basically what I'm saying is that I could go to jail over Spongebob. How many people can say that?
* My neighbor, Mr. Rogers, tried to kill me, so I was forced to kill him." ... "So wait, you killed Mr. Rogers?" ... "Yes." ... "Okay. I just had to get that straight."
This is hilarious considering Mr. Rogers was Mr. Do-Gooder. Now, guys, I realize there's been a rumor going around that Mr. Rogers was actually a Navy Seal. And I know this is going to come as a shock to my Mom, but he was not, actually. I've done some extensive research on that, and it is nothing more but an urban legend and has been repeatedly confirmed as not true. There are exactly zero listings of him ever being in the Military, Army, Navy Seals, etc. It's just not true. So for those of you laughing and thinking Mr. Rogers could have actually kicked the guys ass before he killed him, it's not true. Well, I mean, maybe he could have, but being a Minister, I think that might be unholy or something. I can't say for sure. If someone's trying to kill you and your only choice is to kill them first, what is a Minister to do? (No, really, does anyone know the answer to this?)
Yesterday I got a text from Becky asking me if she came with a warning label, what it would be. It was one of those awesome mass texts, so of course I wanted to have the best answer. I'm sure I didn't, but I definitely had the best backpedaling.
* WARNING: Have boobs, will travel.
For obvious reasons, I realized three minutes later just how bad that sounded. Yeah, it took me that long to become a big enough pervert to realize it, but I did.
* I promise your warning label was not meant to make you sound like a whore. I'm just saying...damn, you got boobs.
And she does. Just ask her. I mean, it's not that I'm looking at her boobs, but we're girls. We shop together. We make fun of our boobs together, and complain about our boobs together. Yes, guys, girls really do that. Don't you wish you were a fly on a sorority wall? Okay, you already wished that, but don't you just wish that more now?
* Wait! Wait...WARNING: Damn, I got boobs.
I think I got it that time. Or not.
Reasons I should never be allowed to watch Dancing With the Stars.
* I just used the phrase "They're having a ball with whomever has their hand up that puppet."
How does this have to do with DWTS, you ask? Did you even watch it last night? Did you see how the Muppets were on there, and the one played a saxophone in the one judge's ear. Yeah, I could try to spell his name, but I don't think that's fair to do that to a person. His first name is Bruno. From there it's just a jumble of letters that I will never get in the correct order. Anyway, it was funny. Then, the puppet made friends with good ole' Bruno and it was awesome. So yes, I think my comment was warranted. Whomever was controlling that puppet, they were having a blast. And kids, I'm just kidding. That wasn't a puppet. That was a real Muppet. *Whistles innocently*
I think I'll just stop here before I ruin Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny for anyone else. Because they're totally real. Totally.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Evicking Siegelnvs
*Shock*
*Gasp*
What do you mean I haven’t updated in several days, even though I’ve had stuff completely done to post, and then have been sitting on well over a weeks worth of texts, IMs and tweets to go through and post on here, even though it’s probably dumb I’m posting that kind of stuff on here, but it’s my blog and it makes me laugh?
*Shock*
*More Gasping*
What do you mean that was a run on sentence?
Okay, in all serious, you guys, my gram is back in the hospital, so there’s a lot going on over here, and I just haven’t had a chance to go through everything or post. In fact, I’ve hardly been online. I also realize my blog has turned into more texts and IMs than stories, which is sad because it’s a total cop out for me not having the proper amount of time to actually write all these stories that I have to write about. I will get there, I hope. Until then, you all have to put up with more texts and IMs. Oh, go ahead and boo me. I’m already booing myself, so you’re just adding to the noise. But honestly, guys, some of the following have stories behind them, so I’m going to add them, too, which makes me suck only ever so slightly less. Plus, it’s really, really long, so that adds cool points, whether you all like it or not. Oh, and stories are in italics.
IMs by me that have nothing to do with anything that has to do with anything else. Don’t you wish you were my friend? Oh wait...what’s that? You’re glad you’re not. Okay. Point taken. But you're still going to read on, right? Because if you don't, that will force me to come to your house and befriend you against your will. There's no law against that...I don't think.
*All I can think when I see the commercial that’s on now is, “We care about these bitches, why?”
*I wanna know why boys don’t get periods. We’re such nice, sweet little things, us girls, and they’re huge jerks, so may I say, WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?
*I wanna e-mail her and be like, “Look, if you’re not going to use my submissions, at least learn that it’s not Twit, but Tweet.”
*Nate is going to get married before us, isn’t he?
And when you cry at the wedding, it won’t be because you’re happy for him.
Story time! Gather around! Many moons ago, or, you know, last January, Becky was preparing to be the Maid of Honor in her friend's wedding, and as we’re standing there mauling over her dress that was just re-altered after it was messed up the first time, her mom pointed out that we were going to make good bridesmaids for each other since we’re a lot alike, are helpful towards each other, and say things just how they are. I then asked who she thought was going to get married first, Becky or me. In unison, both Becky and her mom go, “NATE!” Nate is Becky’s sixteen year old brother who has had the same girlfriend for two years. We can’t even get dates. Sadly, I think they’re right.
*That’d be a hot date. “Hey, wanna split a cab home?” ... “Uh, didn’t you drive?” ... “Yeah, but I forgot to charge my electric car first, so I can’t get us back home. Sorry.” *Goes back to eating like normal.*
*Solemates...is that like when two shoes meet for the first time, one left, one right, and realize they’re a match?
*I lie on a whale cake.
*I should be a boy.
It would make more sense.
*I promise to never bee the kind of friend who doesn’t think out loud and make an ass out of herself.
Yes, bee.
*I think he’s hysterical, and I’m Christian.
Sadly, I need to explain this so I don’t hear about this until the day I die. Some certain person made some funny remarks about Christian songs, and the way their lyrics sound very wrong if you’re a twenty something man, and then he caught a ton of flack for it when he wasn’t even being serious. Look, I know it’s not nice to make fun of that kind of stuff, but when the person started pointing out the lyrics after pointing out how wrong they could sound, I laughed. Becky laughed. None of us take these lyrics that way, but you know how it is when someone points something out? It’s all you can think about. Yeah, I’m the person who finds Uranus funny. What of it?
*Ooh, well fuk thatshit.
Yes, fuk thatshit.
*That was random. Anywho, hot chocolate.
*I should be a lesbian.
Alone, this isn’t funny, but when you realize this is the most used phrase in my entire vocabulary, it takes on a different face.
*Why don’t I just date myself?
*I’m so confused.
Again, not funny, but when you consider I said this at least twenty to twenty five times in one two hour conversation, it kind of develops a personality of its own. Plus, I was talking about boys. They’re confusing, in case you were ever unsure of that. And for the record, “I’m mad,” came in a very close second to things I said the most in this same two hour conversation.
*It wasn’t even a kiss/kiss.
When you all decipher what the hell I was talking about, let me know.
*Anywhomaburger, I’m sorry.
*But I can honestly say, wax is good for your hair. Maybe not that kind of wax, but I’d assume pretty much any kind of wax.
*I want to hug them all.
No matter how creepy.
*It’s so sad, and so funny, but so annoying.
I don’t know where to go on this one.
*I’m so pick about my name(s of characters in my novel.)
But unfortunately not about my typing.
The whole pick, as opposed to picky thing, not a typo, thus why the second part of that IM came along. Get it?
*They’re trying to tell me Twilight is a name for a person.
*So how about the other day I told my mom how funny it is to me that he’s losing his hair at 22, and my mom goes, “You know you’re going gray at 23.”
Yeah, Mom, I know. Thanks for that, though. However, it’s one gray hair here and there and they’re noticeable to virtually no one but someone who is looking for one. Plus, I can color my hair. He can’t re-grow his without plugs, so I still think I win. And I didn’t start graying until a year after he started losing his hair. I get a gold star. Gees...I don’t think he’d be happy to know that apparently this is a game to me. That I won. Ha!
*I want to hug her.
And find a name for this girl. Simultaneously.
I’ll have to keep this conversation, I think.
*It makes me want to change my name.
*BLEACKERS!
Yes, bleackers.
*I’m done caring.
This is my most underused phrase, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t. I figured if I was going to point out my most overused, I should also do the flip side. The bottom of the sun, if you will. The moon.
*Maybe you’re dating someone in your sleep and you just don’t know it.
*It’s kinda amuzing.
Amuzing?
Yeah, okay.
That covers it.
I also decided since that amuzing was too good of a word to not come up with a meaning to, therefore, it has been decided by me that it is a mix between amazing and amusing. This should go in Webster's. Just credit me.
*I hope it’s pulled up, but I don’t know why anyone would do that purposely.
I wasn’t going to explain this, but this is concerning Kristin Stewart’s hair at the VMAs. I’m not the only one that went Holy WTF, am I? And yeah, I know it's not pulled up in the back, and I also know she cut it for The Runaways, but that's no reason to have that shitty of a haircut. Period. Who did that to her?
*My soul is crying.
Kristin Stewart as Joan Jett.
Soul = dying.
*And by sing, of course I mean “sing.”
*I mean, it’s the same dance moons.
Yeah, I know that you’re thinking. Moons? Dumb ass! How can you not catch that? It’s moves. MOVES! M-O-V-E-S! Well, I’m putting this on here because no one caught it. Not even me. Not until I was going through my IMs for stuff for the blog. I think I found a winner. And by winner, I mean loser.
*Were they whores?
Look, I have no idea why I asked that.
*It’s like when someone says Uranus.
You laugh.
Yeah, see. I told you I was one of “those” people, but at least I warned you. Now there’s proof.
*It involves a snake.
A very large snake.
And then you wonder, what reason would anyone have for saying that? Ever. Well, I’m not going to tell you. Keep wondering.
*Being able to read my own stuff on my own computer is awesome.
*Me: “Don’t be surprised by my errors.”
Becky 3: “So the usual, then?”
Me: “Yeah, pretty much.”
*Apparently I’m just a dumb ass?
*The fraternal order of the accident kid.
*Vrendon.
Look, no one gets this except Becky 3, me and Vrendon, whose name isn’t actually Vrendon, but it’s been passed on that we’re now calling him Vrendon. It was a typo at first, and then we found a reason for why that name would work for him. I would explain why, but I really think this would get me in trouble with my mom and Aunt Bev who read this blog, so I won’t. But let me just tell you, it's funny.
*What’s sad is he thinks he can dance.
I mean, he really, really does.
I mean, I’m sure he’s seen himself dance.
How can you watch that and still think you can dance?
HOW!?
This is, coincidentally enough, about Vrendon, but yet has nothing to do with why we are calling him that and everything to do with it all the same.
*I need to not live in Western Pennsylvania. It’s killing my brain cells.
*Someone’s like. “Please, please write a story.” Only, it was a really good, coherent e-mail.
I appreciate that the person was a coherent writer.
Look, I get coherent e-mails regarding my stories about once every blue moon. Yeah...
*By the way, if I rant about pillows tonight, I’m sorry.
*And Aunt Bev and I decided we’re taking over the film industry, and we also decided I should be a lesbian, because boys aren’t worth it.
I had an awesome three and a half hour conversation with Aunt Bev the other day, and we were hard core talking television shows and boys. She’s in her sixties, so this is awesome. But anyway, in the process of doing so, we decided we knew what was best for CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, and it wasn’t Riley or Langston, and that the show would have been much better last year had they let us do the casting. Then we got into other shows that would have been better with our touch added, even though I can’t remember which ones. This was followed by us both agreeing boys suck and they never grow up, and that we understand why woman are lesbians, and we would totally be, too, if we didn’t like boys. Why must we like boys? Damn you, boys.
*OH! OH! OH! OH! Speaking of: Aunt Bev asked my mom to marry her when she gets divorced, but only if she can be the husband. And oh, she's not a lesbian.
I wish I was kidding. This came out while my mom and I were visiting my grandma in the hospital and talking about my previously aforementioned three and a half hour phone conversation with Aunt Bev. I also wish I was kidding, but I was not. Grandma laughed. Yep, that’s how my grandma rolls, AND she thinks we’re entertaining. So that point she earned from laughing, it’s gone now.
*Then today my mom asked my Grandma is she had a goal age she wanted to live to, or if she was okay dying at any time.
No, really. She did. Only it was more like, “do you have a certain age you’re trying to get to,” like it was some kind of contest or race. Grandma laughed. Again, there goes more points. If you were wondering, Grandma said no, she could die tomorrow and wouldn’t care, but she doesn’t want to die. There, she got two more points, so she’s even again, in case you’re keeping score and I’ve confused you, which is probably definite on the confusing part, but not the keeping score part.
*Haha. You broke the bowling balls.
*One time Becky and I bowled against a drunk guy. Our scores together weren’t as good as his score.
True freaking story, and no, this IM has nothing to do with the direct previous one. I’m a little sad about that, actually. But seriously, you guys, one time Becky and I went bowling with Dustin, he had a few drinks, bowled awesome, and we both didn’t even bowl one hundred together. Then we played another game. We still didn’t break one hundred. He still did awesome. We suck, yes. Maybe we should bowl drunk? Yeah, that’s it. We don’t really drink, so we’ll make it a goal to only drink or get drunk while bowling, and then have a designated driver. Oh, and the worst part of the night? The kid bowling directly next to us bowled a perfect game. It’s probably true that we should never bowl again, as we only make a mockery of ourselves, but we have more fun losing, than winners do winning. Trust me. Then I texted her this with a great idea that goes right on along with this.
*I was wondering if you wanted to go bowling later. I figured between the two of us, we could maybe bowl one hundred.
She had to decline to take her brother to Boy Scouts. See later explanation of that in the texts portion of this blog.
*Gosh. Gees. I talk English about as well as someone who doesn’t speak English at all.
Yep, I talk English. Awesome. I’m actually very literate in the English language, I just don’t pay attention to what I’m typing.
*Becky 3: “Hence why I want to hurt him.”
Me: “And I’ll help. Gladly.”
Becky 3: “Thank you.”
Me: “Oh, no, no. Thank YOU.”
Again, I don’t promote violence. This was a PSA from Amy. Thank you.
*I wanna go pushing 30.
*Is that a bad camera angle, or is there something wrong with his face? Yes, I know how that sounds, but I refuse to take it back.
By the way, said person is actually very, very good looking, so to see a bad picture of him was slightly appalling. To this day we don’t know if it was a bad camera angle, or if he just really looks different since we saw him last. And by different, I unfortunately mean not so cute. But I don’t know how he can not be cute. This stumps me. If he’s no longer cute, the world as I know it has ended. However, we were able to surmise that the following IM may very well have something to do with the reasoning why he looks a little less adorable.
*Sadly, I think it’s because it’s getting more and more obvious that his hair is become less and less of a friend to him.
Becky 3 agreed. Mystery solved? For now.
*I just wanna, like...adopt him.
*And all I can imagine is the 28DD falling tit over ass and then yelling, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”
Ladies, this is the only reason you ever need to not have breast implants if you’re but a tiny, tiny little thing. Okay? Because if this happens, I will laugh at you. And no, I will not help you up, but I will be glad to stand by and laugh hysterically as someone else does. If someone else does. Oh, and I will point. Relentlessly.
*“Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but you put up with me when my own friend wouldn’t, so I’m doing you a favor.”
I’m also doing all of you a favor by not explaining this. I’ll just let you laugh.
*I’m going somewhere wit this.
Yes, wit.
I’m decisively a rapper now.
In bad taste, or true? You decide.
*Don’t you love when I’m Little Miss Helpy Helperton, only not really?
*I remember when I first met Brendon and he’s like, “Okay, I think I was told wrong. You’re supposed to be older than me.” And I’m like, “No, I am.” And he goes, “Do you have ID?”
Yes, he went there. And yes, I did pull out my ID. And no, he still didn’t know what to think of me being older than him. This is still funny to me a year and a half later.
*I feel like I totally veered far away from the subject.
Everything’s normal, I guess.
*He’s the only one with enough money to bail us out, cause knowing Brendon, we’ll all be held at some really astronomical amount.
You have to know Brendon. That’s all I’m saying about this.
And now we shall move on to the IMs that I feel the need to explain and tell stories about pre-posting, or else they’re going to end up in a total jumble since there’s several that go together. Ready? Go!
- All of my life I have tended to attract people with the same name. I go through phases where I know several people of the same name, and then I lose touch, no longer know anyone with that particular name, and then meet a bunch of people with the same name that’s different from the previous name, and all within a few months. Yeah, if you followed that, you get a gold star. Currently, I know three Beckys. THREE! I’ve also met and befriended people with the same name as me. Because of this, I’ve been forced to number my people of the same name, thus why I have a Becky 1, who goes by just Becky, Becky 2 and Becky 3. I promise that I’m not discriminating. I’ve numbered them by who I met first, but I’ve numbered them none the less and have also been a number. It gets very confusing...and other theories on this subject.
*People with the same name just flock to me.
*By now I just figure once I marry someone, I’m going to meet at least nine people with the same name as him, but not until after I marry him and am pregnant. That way there ends up being a huge mix up because I know so many people with the same name, and he thinks I’m cheating on him.
Just waiting for it to happen, really. It seems like destiny. A bad destiny, but I don’t see how I’m going to avoid it considering my life’s sense of humor.
*I mean, if you’re just Amy or Becky, you’re boring. But start adding ones and twos, (threes even) you suddenly become awesome beyond human belief.
That’s how I like to think of it. You can’t tell me otherwise. I won’t listen. Also, the following may seem like it doesn’t go along with this subject, but it does. Just hang in there.
*The other day I’m like, “Becky, are you taking a sweatshirt?” And she goes, “I wasn’t going to.” And I’m like, “But it’s chilly.” So she grabs one and an hour later when she’s wearing it she goes, “I’m so glad you’re my mommy.”
Yes, I sound like a valley girl when I explain conversations to others online. I could avoid sounding that way, but that shit takes time. Time I do not have. So I improvise and then share. All my friends joke that I’m everyone’s mommy, so much so that it’s no longer a joke. To back this, I give you the next IM.
*I have three daughters. Their names are Becky, and I have given birth to none, but they are all younger than me. None by more than a year.
See? It all goes together. This is ever so sad. Is it not?
- Some people are idiots. Other people care about those idiots even though they clearly know they're idiots, and then get angry, and hurt, then angry again, and then it just becomes funny. I’m the latter. These are the texts to prove it.
*If I see him with that girl I’m going to text him something horribly mean.
While he’s there. (With her.)
That’s kinda not cool.
But at least I know that. And did I text this person anyway? Seriously...was there ever the question that I wouldn’t do it anyway?
*And I know him. It’s on vibrate.
*Let me have a drink.
And then angry text him.
I don’t get drunk.
I just say things a lot meaner when I drink.
Which is virtually never. Or maybe that’s why I don’t drink.
*I just have to decide what I’m texting.
It will be angry.
It’s delightful.
*Me: “Do I have to be classy about this?”
Becky 3: “Yes.”
Me: “Fuck."
"Can’t I just say what I want for once?”
Her answer to that, by the way, was no. No! Gah, I need to stop caring and start using that phrase more.
*He’s back with Sarah.
Which is “special.”
*Can’t someone smack him?
*I think people let him do what he wants and don’t tell him he’s being an idiot. And EVERYONE needs that once in awhile.
-Becky 3 regaled me with a story of a teacher she used to have, who was just beyond awesome. He had a good sense of humor and cracked only her up and not the rest of the class, because she’s one of those people who laughs at Uranus as well. He seemed all kinds of fun and one of those people I totally want to know, and then she expressed that he only wore black, but one day wore a bright yellow shirt and black pants. This made him so awesome that the following ensued.
*AHAHA! HE WAS A BUMBLEBEE!
Mature? No. True? Yes. Check.
*Is he married?
Yeah, because this phrase should totally follow her telling me he dressed like a bumblebee. Totally follow it. That’s totally normal. Pretend with me, will ya?
*Ask him if he’s still married, as your friend wants to know.
Okay, don’t do that.
*If he dresses like a bumblebee, we’re going to redecorate his classroom in bumblebee posters.
*Oh dude, I would have been with you, only I think I woulda laughed and then looked around like someone else did it.
Because that always works. But see, I told you she was the only one who laughed at said teacher's humor.
*Hi, Professor, I spent thousands to just chill with you. Can’t we just be friends? It’s cheaper?
Becky 3 said she was tempted to take one of his other courses although she’s graduated and has a job, just because she liked him so much. I told her they should be friends. The conversation above happened when I expressed to her just how I would go about trying to be friends with him. What can I say? I’m straight forward. It never works. Ever.
-As I’ve recently mentioned, I rarely pay attention when I’m typing in an IM box, as I’m usually doing nine other things so I just type as quickly as I can to get back out of the window again. Aren’t I delightful? No? Anyway...I’ll try not to take offense to that, you readers, you, as I move on.
I’ve since learned that I’m hardly the only one who does this. Now, maybe it’s just my friends who make awesome errors, but that’s why they’re my friends. And the other night, Becky 3 proved even more just how awesome she is by making the word did into idd, to which I fought back by making the into hte, but not on purpose. Then we decided the typos should be friends, and she instructed them to do so. Insanity ensued.
*Becky 3: “Hte, say hi to idd. You’re both mistakes. Oh wait, was that mean?”
Me: “No. No it was not. Well, okay, it’s not wrong, but maybe a bit insensitive to tell them. Hte and idd might have feelings.”
Becky 3: “I’m sorry idd and hte. Oh god, I’m talking to typos. What is wrong here?”
Me: “Nothing. I see nothing wrong.”
And then it escalated when I tried to make the situation better, which, let’s face it, it wasn’t getting any better, and then made another typo.
*Ooh, yse is totally hte and idd’s kid. Illegitimate, of course. Idd bred with awesoke.
Okay, first of all, yes, I went there. I made typos cheat on each other, but only after Becky 3 talked to them and I told her it was okay. Also, awesoke is obviously a typo for awesome, or not so obviously if you watch what you’re typing and don’t make nine millions errors and hour. It happened years ago. Another friend did it. It stuck. End of story.
-I don’t know how many of you watch Psych, but last Friday was a very special Pysch. Very special, I say. So special that it got IMs.
*That’s my Bollywood contribution to Friday’s Psych.
The only thing funny about this, is that I have no idea what the hell I was talking about, or what I contributed. That’s probably not a coincidence.
*The Psych theme song made me want to sing Benny Lava.
Does anyone know the actual name to this song, who sings it, or what they’re really saying? Didn’t think so.
Now we have texts and stories. Which could make an awesome song. Put it to “Hallelujah.” Go ahead. TEXTS AND STORIES! TEXTS AND STORIES! Wow, I don’t hear singing. Y’all aren’t that fun. Just kidding. I know I can’t hear you sing through the computer screen. Gees, I’m not stupid.
*Coffee is my alcohol. I am no longer responsible for my actions.
*Let’s make fake accounts, friend our fake accounts, and keep taking each other’s quizzes and then our own.
Beck and I are that desperate for people to take our Facebook quiz. We did not make fake accounts, though. Well, I didn’t, because I’m not really down with Facebook, but who knows what Becky did. Anything is possible with her awesomeness.
*Boobless in La.
*I’d like to say my cat stepped on my phone and sent you a blank text, but no. It was me.
*I need to either stop watching Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami, or not admit to it.
Okay, look you guys, I like the show. I adore the heck out of Khloe and would so be her BFF if possible. She says the most inappropriate things and is beyond awesome, so even if I wanted to stop watching, which I don’t, I couldn’t anyway, because it’s ignorant to stop watching your BFF that doesn’t know she’s your BFF.
*FB? We’re not driving to the Facebook headquarters, are we? Do I need to pack?
*What! It lies! LIESSSSS!
I wish I could remember what the elusive it was. If I could, I promise I would tell you. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
*Troll! OMG! Did Mimi from The Drew Cary Show go to Wal-Mart?
*My 80 something Great Aunt threatened to hot my 60 something other Great Aunt. My family is a circus, but at least it’s funny.
And by hot, I mean hit.
True freaking story. Anyone want to adopt me?
*I’m pretty sure the movie Run, Ronnie, Run is a biopic of Pennsylvanians.
*But I don’t want to go to prison.
*Kourtney: “Aww, look at those two old woman holding hands.” (As friends.) Khloe, “Aww, that’s going to be us in a few years.” Why do I also feel like that’s us, too? Are we that big of losers?
First, don’t answer that until you know who “we” are. Second, “we” are Becky and me. Third, don’t answer that.
*This person doesn’t just suck at Craigslist. They suck at life, too.
*Everyone knows Thursday is the new Saturday, and Friday morning is the new official walk of shame day.
*That’s good, girlfriend. Yeah, I went there.
*Ya! I’m scaring people again.
Do I get an award?
Yes! I’m so on my way to being an awesome gay man. I’ll explain later.
I don’t think that can really be explained, and I have yet to receive said award that I was promised. I’m disappointed and suing.
*This TV movie is rated TV 14. However, it says DSLV, so it has all four, but that’s the highest rating it gets. What constitutes an M? Porn?
Can anyone answer this? This movie was also pegged as a comedy and it definitely wasn’t funny. A girl was kidnapped by a pervert and a teacher got blamed. Yeah...not funny.
*I think I just insinuated she was having sex with products.
*Whatever happened to a good ole, “I have a boyfriend?” “I’m a lesbian.” You know, lying.
Regarding woman who go to overly great lengths and often do really terrible things just to get out of going out with a guy. I understand some guys don’t take no for an answer when you are honest, and that’s when you have to lie. I don’t agree with lying, but sometimes you gotsta do what you gotsta do in order to keep yourself from doing something dumber. Gotsta - See, I’m practicing being a decisive rapper, as previously promoted. Yeah, I know I suck. Don’t throw things. Okay...STOP throwing things. Thank you.
*Mom: “It’s a wonder they don’t make washers for little people so they don’t fall in while trying to get laundry out.”
Me: “They do. They’re called front loaders.”
Okay, before you all go yelling at me for picking on little people, I am not. I would never do that. In fact, one of my favorite people in the entire world is the opposite of tall and I adore her to Heck and back, because Hell isn’t an awesome place to be. There’s a show on called The Little Couple that my mom and I enjoy because they are beyond delightful people. On one of the episodes, the story is told of how the woman fell head first into the washer while trying to get clothes out, so this is where this conversation originated. However, I’ll have you know that my friend assures me front loaders aren’t really any more helpful, so technically we’re back at the drawing board again. And I was wrong. There, I said it.
*Me: “THERE IS SKELANIMALS HALLOWEEN CANDY!!!!!!!”
Becky: “Calm down.”
Me: “Can’t. This is what heaven feels like.”
Look, why she goes shopping with me, I don’t know. Good thing, though. She knew where to find me, as we were shopping on opposite ends of the store and split up. And in case you haven’t guessed, Skelanimals are pretty much the most awesome material thing in my life. Everyone should own at least one hundred pieces of Skelanimals stuff. Just a suggestion.
*LMAO! So you’re saying bouncing is better sans a bra?
P.S. - That was NOT what she was saying. I just can’t read...apparently.
*Today I bought an outfit for my Aunt Bev’s bunny, and I made a card and wrapped it. In my defense, she wanted an outfit to hold it together.
I have no defense here. I realize.
*I’m pretty sure we just passed a guy doing a mid day walk of shame post that-crazy-chick’s-boyfriend beating him up, with an ice pack on his face.
*Love makes people stupid.
*That’s so sweet. In case I never told you, I’m totally cloning you. Guys like you don’t exist anymore. You should teach classes to tools. And by tools, I mean most all other guys.
*Screwing up Ellen (Degenere’s hair) is like screwing up rapping. I don’t get how you do it.
*Macy Gray just made me feel better about my dancing skills, and I don’t have any.
*I love Kelly Osbourne: “My bum just wiggled. I am NOT doing that.”
*”Men are only good for going downstairs with a baseball bat when we think we hear something.”
Look, people. For anyone who's ever said Hannah Montana was not funny, accurate, or even remotely like real life, you lie. LIEEEE!
Kids, today I will bring you texts that happened in series, plus a story.
-A few weeks back Becky got stuck taking her brother to Boy Scouts because her mom wasn't feeling well. This is quite possibly the worst thing ever for a twenty three year old girl, because there’s no hot legal guys there. Only Becky got lucky and some kid we used to go to school with who is our age showed up, and Becky thought he was all kinds of hot. And other texts regarding Boy Scouts.
*My mom says Boy Scouts our age like the little boys. So wrong.
But it was equally agreed between three people that it’s so true. Then it got better, and said aforementioned person showed up.
*Is he at least old enough to hit on without being creepy or illegal?
Check and Check.
*Ooh, hit on him. Do it! Do it NOW!
I was only encouraging...then I got pushy.
*PLAY! PLAY! *Holds up lettered signs like cheerleaders do*
First, I was a cheerleader, so I know they do that, even though I can’t remember if I ever had to. I hope not. Two, I wasn’t encouraging her to play sexually, but now that I think of it, that’s sure what it sounds like, because I don’t remember what I was encouraging her to really do. I think it had to do with him having an awesome truck, but don’t hold me to that. Unless you’re dying for a clean answer to this debacle...then hold me to it.
-Then there’s things that Becky says that I just can’t get out of my head. I don’t know if I really love that, or if it scares the pants off of me. I still have pants, so I’m thinking it has to be the first one by default.
*Becky: “I always expect Debra Messing to have boobs. She doesn’t.”
Me: “We’ll call it: ‘Boobless Woman Who We Always Expect Will Have Voobs.’ Yes, voobs.”
I think this had to do with us deciding we should start a show just for Debra Messing and her non existent boobs, about how Debra Messing has non existent boobs. See, Aunt Bev and I are onto something with taking over the film industry, and now Becky can help. You just wait people. This is going to be so epic that it’s going to be like you’re not even going to want to turn on the TV, which means more exercise. That’s kinda great, right? Right? *Bites nails*
*Becky: “Wow, I just had a staring contest with my dog. I won...I really need help.”
I’ve never had a staring contest with my dog. Am I behind?
There’s a possibility that I’m addicted to my Twitter. It’s like this little tool that I use when something really funny happens and I don’t want to forget it. Most people just store the memory in their brain, but not me. I use technology. I think I’m a Bot.
*Them flies? Gosh, you can tell I’m from Western Pennsylvania.
*I just had a spider pop out at me that was so large, I screamed and then cried while trying to kill it. Scared of spiders: Check.
The best part of this? My mom knew about this gigantic spider and didn’t tell me. She buried it in cat litter thinking it would die by the time I got to it. It didn’t die. Not only that, but even if it did, I still would have screamed and cried because I don’t do well with spiders. That may be the biggest under statement of the year. It’s similar to the one Gilmore Girls where Lorelai traps a spider under a cup, and then Dean, who recently broke up with Rory comes in and asks what’s going on, she tells him and he asks what she’s going with the spider. She then responds: “I was thinking about just giving it the kitchen. We don’t use it much anyway.” Then Dean took the spider outside for her while she yelled and eewed like any woman and a good many men would do, but only while yelling, “And don’t let its family see you. Spiders are vindictive.” God, that show is like a biopic of my life, only I’m Lauren Graham's character fifteen years ago and without a kid. Also, I ended up vacuuming up the spider, in case you were wondering. This is a monument to my chicken shit-ness.
*I think I just got owned by my Twitter. I was changing my main picture and it suddenly pops up and goes “NO MORE PICTURE FOR YOU.”
I felt like I was in the army and it just found my contraband of Pixie Sticks. Gees. Twitter, play nicer with others.
*Dear filling that fell out of my tooth, Come back?
Despite asking, it did not. I had to get a new one. I was severely disappointed that our friendship was forced to end after only a few months. I was starting to like that filling, too.
*Hey! I can hear you crunching way over here! Shh!
*Oh yeah, he’s “special.” He resold me on the not being gay thing. He’s just screwing with me now. I didn’t rhyme.
No reason to explain the I didn’t rhyme thing, but I will explain the rest. This “special” person whose sexuality is hanging in the balance, is also the person who was back with Sarah, and that was “special.” As you can see, “special” seems to be this person’s forte.
*They were trying to smuggle cocaine, right? Not actual Coke? Because if it was actual Coke, I just peed a little.
This was a private direct message conversation through Twitter, but way too good not to share. She typed Coke and we were talking about actual Coke, but alas, she meant cocaine. I don’t know if I was really bummed out and felt let down by this, or more amused that it wasn’t Coke. I’m still deciding.
-Okay, story time Twitter style. As you’ve probably gathered from the previous, Becky and I went shopping a few weeks ago. The funny wasn’t so much in the shopping, as the hilarity of taking her brother to his girlfriend's house. Yes, this is Nate. The same brother who is getting married before us. First we were taking him, then we weren’t, then we were, then we weren’t, but alas we ended up taking him. We loaded in the car, he put his headphones on, we cranked the T-Swift and sang our hearts out, not realizing he could hear us, or was paying attention from the backseat. But he was.
*Me: “We should roll down the windows and sing obnoxiously loud.”
Nate: “NO!”
We listened to him. We, two twenty three year olds who like to cause trouble, and by trouble I mean we like to do really funny things that are only funny to us and can’t in any way get us arrested, listened to him. We should have done it. We should have just wound down the windows and done it. However, we must have been singing / talking pretty loud for him to of heard us say that over his Ipod.
*Becky’s brother is blowing bubbles out the window. Awesome.
All of a sudden Becky started politely freaking out as she was seeing something out her side window and couldn’t figure out what was going on. She then caught Nate in her rear view mirror blowing bubbles. Why she had a thing of bubbles in her car is anyone’s guess. However, it didn’t shock me. We’ve either known each other for too long, or we’re really that weird. Both of us. Together. And Nate is the only sane one. Nah.
*I am now one of those people who picsk on high school kids for thinking they’re, “too cool.” I never liked those people. Awesome.
This goes back to before we left, and Nate got off his bus with no backpack, carrying his books. Becky asked him where his backpack was, he said he didn’t take one, and the taunting ensued. He walked away, went in his bedroom, shut the door and changed clothes. Clearly he’s the smarter one out of all of us.
Last but not least, we have general story time, with a mixture of IMs, Tweets and texts that go ever so swimmingly along with this.
-Have you ever met those young people who really want to get married and have a family, only they want to do it on their own terms where they can still have a their own life and a relationship? Then all their friends get married around them and their friends never wanted to get married and have families? Yeah. I’m one of those people. When you’re one of those people, this is what happens.
*OMG! I found the person I’m marrying!
Whomever wrapped him in this blanket so he can’t move...I’m marrying.
This probably needs explained, but I won’t add the picture and leave this to the imagination, assuming you all still have imaginations. If not, you can borrow my very actively creative one. Let me just set up the picture for you. It’s a person wrapped like a sardine in a blanket and looking very sad because they’re unable to move and literally stuck in the blanket until someone comes and unwraps them. The person who did that to other certain ADHD person...I heart.
And then I changed my mind upon finding this entry on Texts From Last Night. This is an exact copy and paste.
(402): lol whn u cming hre I nd 2 c ur fce.
(I-402): IF YOU TEXT ME ONE MORE SHORTENED VERSION OF A WORD, THE ONLY THING YOU’LL SEE IS MY FIRST IN YOUR FACE.
*HAHA! I love it!
Maybe I should marry them instead.
I think it’s a given that I should marry them instead. I hate people who abbr. things and leave out vwls. Dnt u?
- And then when I was done finding non fictional people who I didn’t know to marry, my friend and I sulked over people around us getting married. You know, it’s what normal twenty somethings do with their Saturday and Sunday nights. It’s not...is it?
*We’re both like QUIT GETTING MARRIED!
And then, after we sulked about not being married and realized we’re the only two people we know who really want to be married, and we’re each of the opposite sex, and he announced he was tired of having sex with himself, it was a natural segue way into the following.
*Me: “On behalf of your very tired hand, I am offering to take over in exchange for a wedding and a kid. Thoughts?”
Him: “Date? Time? Wedding planner we’re using?”
Later the friend who introduced us found out about this and decided we were absolutely the most hilarious people he knew separate, and together we were killing him. He also decided I need to live where they live just so we could hang out together all the time and he could have entertainment. There were also mentions of him paying me to make sure said person didn’t leave the house with a seventies hairdo and ugly clothing, but I don’t think it’s possible to rip all the ugly away from him.
-I have a favorite show that’s not a new favorite show, but it feels new because I was so busy watching CSI the past few seasons, that I missed this show just because it was on at the exact same time and I can’t watch two things at once. Then I caught a re-run of this show the other night, and now I’m hooked all over again and trying to decide if I will watch CSI tonight (I did), or if I will watch it (I didn't). And by it I mean Supernatural. I’ve been watching my box sets of the first two seasons, which are the only ones I own, just because it makes me happy...and happy sparks all kinds of conversations. Ta da! I now present them to you.
*I hear country music and I think I specifically hear it playing in a scene of Supernatural, as Dean drives his Impala down the open roads of Kansas.
This is great that I do this, because I really do, but Dean only listens to 70’s music and it’s rare they’re even driving through Kansas, even though that’s where they’re from, as they road trip all over the nation. However, the Impala is bitchin', and the guy who plays Dean is a huge fan of country music and a singer, plus does theater, so you can see why I see him, think country music, and then automatically put it to the role I know him from. Right?
*You know when you’re having a bad day and you don’t feel like doing anything, and you’re like, “Fuck, what should I watch?” Because you know you’re going to eat a whole tub of ice cream in your pajamas? Well, that show wins because it has a cute guy in it.
Two, actually, but one is cuter than the other. Sorry, Jared. But really, as a girl, we totally do this. When life sucks, you don’t feel like doing anything, are bummed out, and just wanna pass time, you always go for shows with hot guys. Don’t tell me that’s just me. I know it’s not.
*Dean just had an entire conversation with a scarecrow and then went, “Dude, you fugly,” and walked away.
Maybe I’m looking at this marriage thing wrong. Can you marry a fictional character on a television show? What do you mean no?
*Good line: "God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work.”
Although a Supernatural quote, so true. This just goes to show that the show is both, very funny, and crudely honest.
*Dean: “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Sam: “No.”
Dean: “Good, because that would be awkward.”
Yep, actually texted those lines to someone.
*I should probably stop watching Supernatural when my mom goes to bed, as everyone screams on there, and one day I’ll scream because something is wrong and she’ll just think I’m watching Supernatural.
Hey, good news. She assures me once she’s sleeping, she’s out, so even if I did scream, she wouldn’t hear me. Problem solved. Err...remind things to never go wrong after she goes to bed. Or make sure no spiders come around. Thanks.
*Ah. See, I thought you watched it. Short explanation, Jo’s in love with Dean, and Dean with her, although he won’t admit it. And Ellen, Jo’s mom, is close to Dean. But Jo’s possessed and attacking her mom and Sam, Dean’s brother, and there doesn’t seem to be another option but to kill her. And I think the worst part of this is that I’m managing to follow this bullhookey.
No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part was that I was on the edge of my seat enjoying ever minute of it. The things I admit to...I should not be allowed to have a blog.
*“There’s two things I know for sure. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: I’m not letting you die a virgin.”
Said by a guy to a guy. You guys - pun intended - why are you not watching this show?
*This awesome lady just said, “your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.” Then she looks at Dean and walks away.
Listen, Dean is a big guy...with moobs, and he was in a tight shirt. But I should explain they're good moobs. Like, the sexy man moobs. See? You're freaking welcome for the picture, by the way. Okay...now that you all understand that. Moobs aren’t always bad on a man. Just usually.
-Did you ever have one of those friends who has the same exact sense of humor as you, only this is really bad because you know eventually it’s going to get you arrested, but you laugh anyway? And other texts between me and that person.
*Me: “Babe, how does it take one twelve hours to get home on a four hour drive?”
Him: “One decides to gamble before leaving Vegas, and then gets lost on the way home from taking a ‘shortcut.” Mrs. GPS told me to do it.”
Only he was serious. Twelve hours on a four hour drive. TWELVE HOURS on a FOUR HOUR drive. How do I attract these people who have a worse sense of direction than me? Okay, actually mine’s pretty good, so a good many people actually have a worse sense of direction than me, but still. In case this wasn’t clear, it took him TWELVE HOURS to get home when it should have taken him FOUR! And he does this drive often. He KNOWS these roads. *Shakes head*
*Me: "Why was one drunken texting me while driving home?”
Him: “One was not drunk. One was gambling. While texting. It has the same effect.”
Me: “Good to know.”
So now when I go gambling with my mom and Charlene like they’ve been asking me to do, I know that I can act like I’m obliterated and it’s totally okay because no one will think I’m drunk or anything. Everyone will understand that I’m just gambling. Right...glad that’s all cleared up.
-Sometimes you just have those people who don’t go away. Then you don’t know how to get them to go away. They can’t take a hint. They can’t take a direct quote. They just stick to you like white on rice. Or blue on blue crayon. Yeah, okay, I apologize for that last one. Anyway, then one person comes along covered in white light with the saving grace of the day, and you could swear they were an angel from above, or a superhero. That person became Becky, and the following is a play by play of her angelic superhero-ness.
*I just realized I’m forever indebted to you. I’ve had the same person text me almost thirty times, and call me six since a little after nine, all of which I’ve ignored. But it’s not stopping and I was trying to find the perfect thing to say to them. I think “You’re evicking siegelnvs,” covers it with a certain grandeur that I could not have produced on my own.
In all fairness, this could totally be filed under typos, but this wasn’t my typo. While Becky was on Texts From Last Night, she discovered a text where someone said “This is evicking siegelnvs,” to which the other person replied, “I’m sorry?” Then it was cleared up when the first person said “this is fucking ridiculous.” So it’s obvious the first person meant to type fucking ridiculous and failed on a monumental scale. Maybe I should marry them. Oh, the options of marriage to people I don’t know are so endless. To further understand why she was such a saving grace, I will take you through my previous thought process of such.
*I was tempted to ask my friend how you swear at someone in German, and then I remembered he (the person I was going to swear in German to) DOES speak German, so it wouldn’t be fun.
I also remembered he would be the person I was asking how to swear in German, as he’s fluent in it. This defeated the non important purpose. The goal here was to ultimately come up with something to say to him that would stun him so badly that he would have no idea what I was saying, but because he has a lot of pride, would not say anything to me because he thinks he’s the one who is missing something or undereducated, and then he would proceed to spend hours googling my mumbo jumbo just to figure out what was going on. He does this, and it would be the perfect revenge. Then evicking siegelnvs came along and saved my day like this.
*Knowing he’d think I was swearing at him in another language and not ask me what it meant.
And he didn’t.
So yes, if you were wondering, evicking siegelnvs works. Thanks to superhero Becky, my mission was now accomplished. And we all lived happily ever after.
*Gasp*
What do you mean I haven’t updated in several days, even though I’ve had stuff completely done to post, and then have been sitting on well over a weeks worth of texts, IMs and tweets to go through and post on here, even though it’s probably dumb I’m posting that kind of stuff on here, but it’s my blog and it makes me laugh?
*Shock*
*More Gasping*
What do you mean that was a run on sentence?
Okay, in all serious, you guys, my gram is back in the hospital, so there’s a lot going on over here, and I just haven’t had a chance to go through everything or post. In fact, I’ve hardly been online. I also realize my blog has turned into more texts and IMs than stories, which is sad because it’s a total cop out for me not having the proper amount of time to actually write all these stories that I have to write about. I will get there, I hope. Until then, you all have to put up with more texts and IMs. Oh, go ahead and boo me. I’m already booing myself, so you’re just adding to the noise. But honestly, guys, some of the following have stories behind them, so I’m going to add them, too, which makes me suck only ever so slightly less. Plus, it’s really, really long, so that adds cool points, whether you all like it or not. Oh, and stories are in italics.
IMs by me that have nothing to do with anything that has to do with anything else. Don’t you wish you were my friend? Oh wait...what’s that? You’re glad you’re not. Okay. Point taken. But you're still going to read on, right? Because if you don't, that will force me to come to your house and befriend you against your will. There's no law against that...I don't think.
*All I can think when I see the commercial that’s on now is, “We care about these bitches, why?”
*I wanna know why boys don’t get periods. We’re such nice, sweet little things, us girls, and they’re huge jerks, so may I say, WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?
*I wanna e-mail her and be like, “Look, if you’re not going to use my submissions, at least learn that it’s not Twit, but Tweet.”
*Nate is going to get married before us, isn’t he?
And when you cry at the wedding, it won’t be because you’re happy for him.
Story time! Gather around! Many moons ago, or, you know, last January, Becky was preparing to be the Maid of Honor in her friend's wedding, and as we’re standing there mauling over her dress that was just re-altered after it was messed up the first time, her mom pointed out that we were going to make good bridesmaids for each other since we’re a lot alike, are helpful towards each other, and say things just how they are. I then asked who she thought was going to get married first, Becky or me. In unison, both Becky and her mom go, “NATE!” Nate is Becky’s sixteen year old brother who has had the same girlfriend for two years. We can’t even get dates. Sadly, I think they’re right.
*That’d be a hot date. “Hey, wanna split a cab home?” ... “Uh, didn’t you drive?” ... “Yeah, but I forgot to charge my electric car first, so I can’t get us back home. Sorry.” *Goes back to eating like normal.*
*Solemates...is that like when two shoes meet for the first time, one left, one right, and realize they’re a match?
*I lie on a whale cake.
*I should be a boy.
It would make more sense.
*I promise to never bee the kind of friend who doesn’t think out loud and make an ass out of herself.
Yes, bee.
*I think he’s hysterical, and I’m Christian.
Sadly, I need to explain this so I don’t hear about this until the day I die. Some certain person made some funny remarks about Christian songs, and the way their lyrics sound very wrong if you’re a twenty something man, and then he caught a ton of flack for it when he wasn’t even being serious. Look, I know it’s not nice to make fun of that kind of stuff, but when the person started pointing out the lyrics after pointing out how wrong they could sound, I laughed. Becky laughed. None of us take these lyrics that way, but you know how it is when someone points something out? It’s all you can think about. Yeah, I’m the person who finds Uranus funny. What of it?
*Ooh, well fuk thatshit.
Yes, fuk thatshit.
*That was random. Anywho, hot chocolate.
*I should be a lesbian.
Alone, this isn’t funny, but when you realize this is the most used phrase in my entire vocabulary, it takes on a different face.
*Why don’t I just date myself?
*I’m so confused.
Again, not funny, but when you consider I said this at least twenty to twenty five times in one two hour conversation, it kind of develops a personality of its own. Plus, I was talking about boys. They’re confusing, in case you were ever unsure of that. And for the record, “I’m mad,” came in a very close second to things I said the most in this same two hour conversation.
*It wasn’t even a kiss/kiss.
When you all decipher what the hell I was talking about, let me know.
*Anywhomaburger, I’m sorry.
*But I can honestly say, wax is good for your hair. Maybe not that kind of wax, but I’d assume pretty much any kind of wax.
*I want to hug them all.
No matter how creepy.
*It’s so sad, and so funny, but so annoying.
I don’t know where to go on this one.
*I’m so pick about my name(s of characters in my novel.)
But unfortunately not about my typing.
The whole pick, as opposed to picky thing, not a typo, thus why the second part of that IM came along. Get it?
*They’re trying to tell me Twilight is a name for a person.
*So how about the other day I told my mom how funny it is to me that he’s losing his hair at 22, and my mom goes, “You know you’re going gray at 23.”
Yeah, Mom, I know. Thanks for that, though. However, it’s one gray hair here and there and they’re noticeable to virtually no one but someone who is looking for one. Plus, I can color my hair. He can’t re-grow his without plugs, so I still think I win. And I didn’t start graying until a year after he started losing his hair. I get a gold star. Gees...I don’t think he’d be happy to know that apparently this is a game to me. That I won. Ha!
*I want to hug her.
And find a name for this girl. Simultaneously.
I’ll have to keep this conversation, I think.
*It makes me want to change my name.
*BLEACKERS!
Yes, bleackers.
*I’m done caring.
This is my most underused phrase, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t. I figured if I was going to point out my most overused, I should also do the flip side. The bottom of the sun, if you will. The moon.
*Maybe you’re dating someone in your sleep and you just don’t know it.
*It’s kinda amuzing.
Amuzing?
Yeah, okay.
That covers it.
I also decided since that amuzing was too good of a word to not come up with a meaning to, therefore, it has been decided by me that it is a mix between amazing and amusing. This should go in Webster's. Just credit me.
*I hope it’s pulled up, but I don’t know why anyone would do that purposely.
I wasn’t going to explain this, but this is concerning Kristin Stewart’s hair at the VMAs. I’m not the only one that went Holy WTF, am I? And yeah, I know it's not pulled up in the back, and I also know she cut it for The Runaways, but that's no reason to have that shitty of a haircut. Period. Who did that to her?
*My soul is crying.
Kristin Stewart as Joan Jett.
Soul = dying.
*And by sing, of course I mean “sing.”
*I mean, it’s the same dance moons.
Yeah, I know that you’re thinking. Moons? Dumb ass! How can you not catch that? It’s moves. MOVES! M-O-V-E-S! Well, I’m putting this on here because no one caught it. Not even me. Not until I was going through my IMs for stuff for the blog. I think I found a winner. And by winner, I mean loser.
*Were they whores?
Look, I have no idea why I asked that.
*It’s like when someone says Uranus.
You laugh.
Yeah, see. I told you I was one of “those” people, but at least I warned you. Now there’s proof.
*It involves a snake.
A very large snake.
And then you wonder, what reason would anyone have for saying that? Ever. Well, I’m not going to tell you. Keep wondering.
*Being able to read my own stuff on my own computer is awesome.
*Me: “Don’t be surprised by my errors.”
Becky 3: “So the usual, then?”
Me: “Yeah, pretty much.”
*Apparently I’m just a dumb ass?
*The fraternal order of the accident kid.
*Vrendon.
Look, no one gets this except Becky 3, me and Vrendon, whose name isn’t actually Vrendon, but it’s been passed on that we’re now calling him Vrendon. It was a typo at first, and then we found a reason for why that name would work for him. I would explain why, but I really think this would get me in trouble with my mom and Aunt Bev who read this blog, so I won’t. But let me just tell you, it's funny.
*What’s sad is he thinks he can dance.
I mean, he really, really does.
I mean, I’m sure he’s seen himself dance.
How can you watch that and still think you can dance?
HOW!?
This is, coincidentally enough, about Vrendon, but yet has nothing to do with why we are calling him that and everything to do with it all the same.
*I need to not live in Western Pennsylvania. It’s killing my brain cells.
*Someone’s like. “Please, please write a story.” Only, it was a really good, coherent e-mail.
I appreciate that the person was a coherent writer.
Look, I get coherent e-mails regarding my stories about once every blue moon. Yeah...
*By the way, if I rant about pillows tonight, I’m sorry.
*And Aunt Bev and I decided we’re taking over the film industry, and we also decided I should be a lesbian, because boys aren’t worth it.
I had an awesome three and a half hour conversation with Aunt Bev the other day, and we were hard core talking television shows and boys. She’s in her sixties, so this is awesome. But anyway, in the process of doing so, we decided we knew what was best for CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, and it wasn’t Riley or Langston, and that the show would have been much better last year had they let us do the casting. Then we got into other shows that would have been better with our touch added, even though I can’t remember which ones. This was followed by us both agreeing boys suck and they never grow up, and that we understand why woman are lesbians, and we would totally be, too, if we didn’t like boys. Why must we like boys? Damn you, boys.
*OH! OH! OH! OH! Speaking of: Aunt Bev asked my mom to marry her when she gets divorced, but only if she can be the husband. And oh, she's not a lesbian.
I wish I was kidding. This came out while my mom and I were visiting my grandma in the hospital and talking about my previously aforementioned three and a half hour phone conversation with Aunt Bev. I also wish I was kidding, but I was not. Grandma laughed. Yep, that’s how my grandma rolls, AND she thinks we’re entertaining. So that point she earned from laughing, it’s gone now.
*Then today my mom asked my Grandma is she had a goal age she wanted to live to, or if she was okay dying at any time.
No, really. She did. Only it was more like, “do you have a certain age you’re trying to get to,” like it was some kind of contest or race. Grandma laughed. Again, there goes more points. If you were wondering, Grandma said no, she could die tomorrow and wouldn’t care, but she doesn’t want to die. There, she got two more points, so she’s even again, in case you’re keeping score and I’ve confused you, which is probably definite on the confusing part, but not the keeping score part.
*Haha. You broke the bowling balls.
*One time Becky and I bowled against a drunk guy. Our scores together weren’t as good as his score.
True freaking story, and no, this IM has nothing to do with the direct previous one. I’m a little sad about that, actually. But seriously, you guys, one time Becky and I went bowling with Dustin, he had a few drinks, bowled awesome, and we both didn’t even bowl one hundred together. Then we played another game. We still didn’t break one hundred. He still did awesome. We suck, yes. Maybe we should bowl drunk? Yeah, that’s it. We don’t really drink, so we’ll make it a goal to only drink or get drunk while bowling, and then have a designated driver. Oh, and the worst part of the night? The kid bowling directly next to us bowled a perfect game. It’s probably true that we should never bowl again, as we only make a mockery of ourselves, but we have more fun losing, than winners do winning. Trust me. Then I texted her this with a great idea that goes right on along with this.
*I was wondering if you wanted to go bowling later. I figured between the two of us, we could maybe bowl one hundred.
She had to decline to take her brother to Boy Scouts. See later explanation of that in the texts portion of this blog.
*Gosh. Gees. I talk English about as well as someone who doesn’t speak English at all.
Yep, I talk English. Awesome. I’m actually very literate in the English language, I just don’t pay attention to what I’m typing.
*Becky 3: “Hence why I want to hurt him.”
Me: “And I’ll help. Gladly.”
Becky 3: “Thank you.”
Me: “Oh, no, no. Thank YOU.”
Again, I don’t promote violence. This was a PSA from Amy. Thank you.
*I wanna go pushing 30.
*Is that a bad camera angle, or is there something wrong with his face? Yes, I know how that sounds, but I refuse to take it back.
By the way, said person is actually very, very good looking, so to see a bad picture of him was slightly appalling. To this day we don’t know if it was a bad camera angle, or if he just really looks different since we saw him last. And by different, I unfortunately mean not so cute. But I don’t know how he can not be cute. This stumps me. If he’s no longer cute, the world as I know it has ended. However, we were able to surmise that the following IM may very well have something to do with the reasoning why he looks a little less adorable.
*Sadly, I think it’s because it’s getting more and more obvious that his hair is become less and less of a friend to him.
Becky 3 agreed. Mystery solved? For now.
*I just wanna, like...adopt him.
*And all I can imagine is the 28DD falling tit over ass and then yelling, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”
Ladies, this is the only reason you ever need to not have breast implants if you’re but a tiny, tiny little thing. Okay? Because if this happens, I will laugh at you. And no, I will not help you up, but I will be glad to stand by and laugh hysterically as someone else does. If someone else does. Oh, and I will point. Relentlessly.
*“Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but you put up with me when my own friend wouldn’t, so I’m doing you a favor.”
I’m also doing all of you a favor by not explaining this. I’ll just let you laugh.
*I’m going somewhere wit this.
Yes, wit.
I’m decisively a rapper now.
In bad taste, or true? You decide.
*Don’t you love when I’m Little Miss Helpy Helperton, only not really?
*I remember when I first met Brendon and he’s like, “Okay, I think I was told wrong. You’re supposed to be older than me.” And I’m like, “No, I am.” And he goes, “Do you have ID?”
Yes, he went there. And yes, I did pull out my ID. And no, he still didn’t know what to think of me being older than him. This is still funny to me a year and a half later.
*I feel like I totally veered far away from the subject.
Everything’s normal, I guess.
*He’s the only one with enough money to bail us out, cause knowing Brendon, we’ll all be held at some really astronomical amount.
You have to know Brendon. That’s all I’m saying about this.
And now we shall move on to the IMs that I feel the need to explain and tell stories about pre-posting, or else they’re going to end up in a total jumble since there’s several that go together. Ready? Go!
- All of my life I have tended to attract people with the same name. I go through phases where I know several people of the same name, and then I lose touch, no longer know anyone with that particular name, and then meet a bunch of people with the same name that’s different from the previous name, and all within a few months. Yeah, if you followed that, you get a gold star. Currently, I know three Beckys. THREE! I’ve also met and befriended people with the same name as me. Because of this, I’ve been forced to number my people of the same name, thus why I have a Becky 1, who goes by just Becky, Becky 2 and Becky 3. I promise that I’m not discriminating. I’ve numbered them by who I met first, but I’ve numbered them none the less and have also been a number. It gets very confusing...and other theories on this subject.
*People with the same name just flock to me.
*By now I just figure once I marry someone, I’m going to meet at least nine people with the same name as him, but not until after I marry him and am pregnant. That way there ends up being a huge mix up because I know so many people with the same name, and he thinks I’m cheating on him.
Just waiting for it to happen, really. It seems like destiny. A bad destiny, but I don’t see how I’m going to avoid it considering my life’s sense of humor.
*I mean, if you’re just Amy or Becky, you’re boring. But start adding ones and twos, (threes even) you suddenly become awesome beyond human belief.
That’s how I like to think of it. You can’t tell me otherwise. I won’t listen. Also, the following may seem like it doesn’t go along with this subject, but it does. Just hang in there.
*The other day I’m like, “Becky, are you taking a sweatshirt?” And she goes, “I wasn’t going to.” And I’m like, “But it’s chilly.” So she grabs one and an hour later when she’s wearing it she goes, “I’m so glad you’re my mommy.”
Yes, I sound like a valley girl when I explain conversations to others online. I could avoid sounding that way, but that shit takes time. Time I do not have. So I improvise and then share. All my friends joke that I’m everyone’s mommy, so much so that it’s no longer a joke. To back this, I give you the next IM.
*I have three daughters. Their names are Becky, and I have given birth to none, but they are all younger than me. None by more than a year.
See? It all goes together. This is ever so sad. Is it not?
- Some people are idiots. Other people care about those idiots even though they clearly know they're idiots, and then get angry, and hurt, then angry again, and then it just becomes funny. I’m the latter. These are the texts to prove it.
*If I see him with that girl I’m going to text him something horribly mean.
While he’s there. (With her.)
That’s kinda not cool.
But at least I know that. And did I text this person anyway? Seriously...was there ever the question that I wouldn’t do it anyway?
*And I know him. It’s on vibrate.
*Let me have a drink.
And then angry text him.
I don’t get drunk.
I just say things a lot meaner when I drink.
Which is virtually never. Or maybe that’s why I don’t drink.
*I just have to decide what I’m texting.
It will be angry.
It’s delightful.
*Me: “Do I have to be classy about this?”
Becky 3: “Yes.”
Me: “Fuck."
"Can’t I just say what I want for once?”
Her answer to that, by the way, was no. No! Gah, I need to stop caring and start using that phrase more.
*He’s back with Sarah.
Which is “special.”
*Can’t someone smack him?
*I think people let him do what he wants and don’t tell him he’s being an idiot. And EVERYONE needs that once in awhile.
-Becky 3 regaled me with a story of a teacher she used to have, who was just beyond awesome. He had a good sense of humor and cracked only her up and not the rest of the class, because she’s one of those people who laughs at Uranus as well. He seemed all kinds of fun and one of those people I totally want to know, and then she expressed that he only wore black, but one day wore a bright yellow shirt and black pants. This made him so awesome that the following ensued.
*AHAHA! HE WAS A BUMBLEBEE!
Mature? No. True? Yes. Check.
*Is he married?
Yeah, because this phrase should totally follow her telling me he dressed like a bumblebee. Totally follow it. That’s totally normal. Pretend with me, will ya?
*Ask him if he’s still married, as your friend wants to know.
Okay, don’t do that.
*If he dresses like a bumblebee, we’re going to redecorate his classroom in bumblebee posters.
*Oh dude, I would have been with you, only I think I woulda laughed and then looked around like someone else did it.
Because that always works. But see, I told you she was the only one who laughed at said teacher's humor.
*Hi, Professor, I spent thousands to just chill with you. Can’t we just be friends? It’s cheaper?
Becky 3 said she was tempted to take one of his other courses although she’s graduated and has a job, just because she liked him so much. I told her they should be friends. The conversation above happened when I expressed to her just how I would go about trying to be friends with him. What can I say? I’m straight forward. It never works. Ever.
-As I’ve recently mentioned, I rarely pay attention when I’m typing in an IM box, as I’m usually doing nine other things so I just type as quickly as I can to get back out of the window again. Aren’t I delightful? No? Anyway...I’ll try not to take offense to that, you readers, you, as I move on.
I’ve since learned that I’m hardly the only one who does this. Now, maybe it’s just my friends who make awesome errors, but that’s why they’re my friends. And the other night, Becky 3 proved even more just how awesome she is by making the word did into idd, to which I fought back by making the into hte, but not on purpose. Then we decided the typos should be friends, and she instructed them to do so. Insanity ensued.
*Becky 3: “Hte, say hi to idd. You’re both mistakes. Oh wait, was that mean?”
Me: “No. No it was not. Well, okay, it’s not wrong, but maybe a bit insensitive to tell them. Hte and idd might have feelings.”
Becky 3: “I’m sorry idd and hte. Oh god, I’m talking to typos. What is wrong here?”
Me: “Nothing. I see nothing wrong.”
And then it escalated when I tried to make the situation better, which, let’s face it, it wasn’t getting any better, and then made another typo.
*Ooh, yse is totally hte and idd’s kid. Illegitimate, of course. Idd bred with awesoke.
Okay, first of all, yes, I went there. I made typos cheat on each other, but only after Becky 3 talked to them and I told her it was okay. Also, awesoke is obviously a typo for awesome, or not so obviously if you watch what you’re typing and don’t make nine millions errors and hour. It happened years ago. Another friend did it. It stuck. End of story.
-I don’t know how many of you watch Psych, but last Friday was a very special Pysch. Very special, I say. So special that it got IMs.
*That’s my Bollywood contribution to Friday’s Psych.
The only thing funny about this, is that I have no idea what the hell I was talking about, or what I contributed. That’s probably not a coincidence.
*The Psych theme song made me want to sing Benny Lava.
Does anyone know the actual name to this song, who sings it, or what they’re really saying? Didn’t think so.
Now we have texts and stories. Which could make an awesome song. Put it to “Hallelujah.” Go ahead. TEXTS AND STORIES! TEXTS AND STORIES! Wow, I don’t hear singing. Y’all aren’t that fun. Just kidding. I know I can’t hear you sing through the computer screen. Gees, I’m not stupid.
*Coffee is my alcohol. I am no longer responsible for my actions.
*Let’s make fake accounts, friend our fake accounts, and keep taking each other’s quizzes and then our own.
Beck and I are that desperate for people to take our Facebook quiz. We did not make fake accounts, though. Well, I didn’t, because I’m not really down with Facebook, but who knows what Becky did. Anything is possible with her awesomeness.
*Boobless in La.
*I’d like to say my cat stepped on my phone and sent you a blank text, but no. It was me.
*I need to either stop watching Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami, or not admit to it.
Okay, look you guys, I like the show. I adore the heck out of Khloe and would so be her BFF if possible. She says the most inappropriate things and is beyond awesome, so even if I wanted to stop watching, which I don’t, I couldn’t anyway, because it’s ignorant to stop watching your BFF that doesn’t know she’s your BFF.
*FB? We’re not driving to the Facebook headquarters, are we? Do I need to pack?
*What! It lies! LIESSSSS!
I wish I could remember what the elusive it was. If I could, I promise I would tell you. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, probably not.
*Troll! OMG! Did Mimi from The Drew Cary Show go to Wal-Mart?
*My 80 something Great Aunt threatened to hot my 60 something other Great Aunt. My family is a circus, but at least it’s funny.
And by hot, I mean hit.
True freaking story. Anyone want to adopt me?
*I’m pretty sure the movie Run, Ronnie, Run is a biopic of Pennsylvanians.
*But I don’t want to go to prison.
*Kourtney: “Aww, look at those two old woman holding hands.” (As friends.) Khloe, “Aww, that’s going to be us in a few years.” Why do I also feel like that’s us, too? Are we that big of losers?
First, don’t answer that until you know who “we” are. Second, “we” are Becky and me. Third, don’t answer that.
*This person doesn’t just suck at Craigslist. They suck at life, too.
*Everyone knows Thursday is the new Saturday, and Friday morning is the new official walk of shame day.
*That’s good, girlfriend. Yeah, I went there.
*Ya! I’m scaring people again.
Do I get an award?
Yes! I’m so on my way to being an awesome gay man. I’ll explain later.
I don’t think that can really be explained, and I have yet to receive said award that I was promised. I’m disappointed and suing.
*This TV movie is rated TV 14. However, it says DSLV, so it has all four, but that’s the highest rating it gets. What constitutes an M? Porn?
Can anyone answer this? This movie was also pegged as a comedy and it definitely wasn’t funny. A girl was kidnapped by a pervert and a teacher got blamed. Yeah...not funny.
*I think I just insinuated she was having sex with products.
*Whatever happened to a good ole, “I have a boyfriend?” “I’m a lesbian.” You know, lying.
Regarding woman who go to overly great lengths and often do really terrible things just to get out of going out with a guy. I understand some guys don’t take no for an answer when you are honest, and that’s when you have to lie. I don’t agree with lying, but sometimes you gotsta do what you gotsta do in order to keep yourself from doing something dumber. Gotsta - See, I’m practicing being a decisive rapper, as previously promoted. Yeah, I know I suck. Don’t throw things. Okay...STOP throwing things. Thank you.
*Mom: “It’s a wonder they don’t make washers for little people so they don’t fall in while trying to get laundry out.”
Me: “They do. They’re called front loaders.”
Okay, before you all go yelling at me for picking on little people, I am not. I would never do that. In fact, one of my favorite people in the entire world is the opposite of tall and I adore her to Heck and back, because Hell isn’t an awesome place to be. There’s a show on called The Little Couple that my mom and I enjoy because they are beyond delightful people. On one of the episodes, the story is told of how the woman fell head first into the washer while trying to get clothes out, so this is where this conversation originated. However, I’ll have you know that my friend assures me front loaders aren’t really any more helpful, so technically we’re back at the drawing board again. And I was wrong. There, I said it.
*Me: “THERE IS SKELANIMALS HALLOWEEN CANDY!!!!!!!”
Becky: “Calm down.”
Me: “Can’t. This is what heaven feels like.”
Look, why she goes shopping with me, I don’t know. Good thing, though. She knew where to find me, as we were shopping on opposite ends of the store and split up. And in case you haven’t guessed, Skelanimals are pretty much the most awesome material thing in my life. Everyone should own at least one hundred pieces of Skelanimals stuff. Just a suggestion.
*LMAO! So you’re saying bouncing is better sans a bra?
P.S. - That was NOT what she was saying. I just can’t read...apparently.
*Today I bought an outfit for my Aunt Bev’s bunny, and I made a card and wrapped it. In my defense, she wanted an outfit to hold it together.
I have no defense here. I realize.
*I’m pretty sure we just passed a guy doing a mid day walk of shame post that-crazy-chick’s-boyfriend beating him up, with an ice pack on his face.
*Love makes people stupid.
*That’s so sweet. In case I never told you, I’m totally cloning you. Guys like you don’t exist anymore. You should teach classes to tools. And by tools, I mean most all other guys.
*Screwing up Ellen (Degenere’s hair) is like screwing up rapping. I don’t get how you do it.
*Macy Gray just made me feel better about my dancing skills, and I don’t have any.
*I love Kelly Osbourne: “My bum just wiggled. I am NOT doing that.”
*”Men are only good for going downstairs with a baseball bat when we think we hear something.”
Look, people. For anyone who's ever said Hannah Montana was not funny, accurate, or even remotely like real life, you lie. LIEEEE!
Kids, today I will bring you texts that happened in series, plus a story.
-A few weeks back Becky got stuck taking her brother to Boy Scouts because her mom wasn't feeling well. This is quite possibly the worst thing ever for a twenty three year old girl, because there’s no hot legal guys there. Only Becky got lucky and some kid we used to go to school with who is our age showed up, and Becky thought he was all kinds of hot. And other texts regarding Boy Scouts.
*My mom says Boy Scouts our age like the little boys. So wrong.
But it was equally agreed between three people that it’s so true. Then it got better, and said aforementioned person showed up.
*Is he at least old enough to hit on without being creepy or illegal?
Check and Check.
*Ooh, hit on him. Do it! Do it NOW!
I was only encouraging...then I got pushy.
*PLAY! PLAY! *Holds up lettered signs like cheerleaders do*
First, I was a cheerleader, so I know they do that, even though I can’t remember if I ever had to. I hope not. Two, I wasn’t encouraging her to play sexually, but now that I think of it, that’s sure what it sounds like, because I don’t remember what I was encouraging her to really do. I think it had to do with him having an awesome truck, but don’t hold me to that. Unless you’re dying for a clean answer to this debacle...then hold me to it.
-Then there’s things that Becky says that I just can’t get out of my head. I don’t know if I really love that, or if it scares the pants off of me. I still have pants, so I’m thinking it has to be the first one by default.
*Becky: “I always expect Debra Messing to have boobs. She doesn’t.”
Me: “We’ll call it: ‘Boobless Woman Who We Always Expect Will Have Voobs.’ Yes, voobs.”
I think this had to do with us deciding we should start a show just for Debra Messing and her non existent boobs, about how Debra Messing has non existent boobs. See, Aunt Bev and I are onto something with taking over the film industry, and now Becky can help. You just wait people. This is going to be so epic that it’s going to be like you’re not even going to want to turn on the TV, which means more exercise. That’s kinda great, right? Right? *Bites nails*
*Becky: “Wow, I just had a staring contest with my dog. I won...I really need help.”
I’ve never had a staring contest with my dog. Am I behind?
There’s a possibility that I’m addicted to my Twitter. It’s like this little tool that I use when something really funny happens and I don’t want to forget it. Most people just store the memory in their brain, but not me. I use technology. I think I’m a Bot.
*Them flies? Gosh, you can tell I’m from Western Pennsylvania.
*I just had a spider pop out at me that was so large, I screamed and then cried while trying to kill it. Scared of spiders: Check.
The best part of this? My mom knew about this gigantic spider and didn’t tell me. She buried it in cat litter thinking it would die by the time I got to it. It didn’t die. Not only that, but even if it did, I still would have screamed and cried because I don’t do well with spiders. That may be the biggest under statement of the year. It’s similar to the one Gilmore Girls where Lorelai traps a spider under a cup, and then Dean, who recently broke up with Rory comes in and asks what’s going on, she tells him and he asks what she’s going with the spider. She then responds: “I was thinking about just giving it the kitchen. We don’t use it much anyway.” Then Dean took the spider outside for her while she yelled and eewed like any woman and a good many men would do, but only while yelling, “And don’t let its family see you. Spiders are vindictive.” God, that show is like a biopic of my life, only I’m Lauren Graham's character fifteen years ago and without a kid. Also, I ended up vacuuming up the spider, in case you were wondering. This is a monument to my chicken shit-ness.
*I think I just got owned by my Twitter. I was changing my main picture and it suddenly pops up and goes “NO MORE PICTURE FOR YOU.”
I felt like I was in the army and it just found my contraband of Pixie Sticks. Gees. Twitter, play nicer with others.
*Dear filling that fell out of my tooth, Come back?
Despite asking, it did not. I had to get a new one. I was severely disappointed that our friendship was forced to end after only a few months. I was starting to like that filling, too.
*Hey! I can hear you crunching way over here! Shh!
*Oh yeah, he’s “special.” He resold me on the not being gay thing. He’s just screwing with me now. I didn’t rhyme.
No reason to explain the I didn’t rhyme thing, but I will explain the rest. This “special” person whose sexuality is hanging in the balance, is also the person who was back with Sarah, and that was “special.” As you can see, “special” seems to be this person’s forte.
*They were trying to smuggle cocaine, right? Not actual Coke? Because if it was actual Coke, I just peed a little.
This was a private direct message conversation through Twitter, but way too good not to share. She typed Coke and we were talking about actual Coke, but alas, she meant cocaine. I don’t know if I was really bummed out and felt let down by this, or more amused that it wasn’t Coke. I’m still deciding.
-Okay, story time Twitter style. As you’ve probably gathered from the previous, Becky and I went shopping a few weeks ago. The funny wasn’t so much in the shopping, as the hilarity of taking her brother to his girlfriend's house. Yes, this is Nate. The same brother who is getting married before us. First we were taking him, then we weren’t, then we were, then we weren’t, but alas we ended up taking him. We loaded in the car, he put his headphones on, we cranked the T-Swift and sang our hearts out, not realizing he could hear us, or was paying attention from the backseat. But he was.
*Me: “We should roll down the windows and sing obnoxiously loud.”
Nate: “NO!”
We listened to him. We, two twenty three year olds who like to cause trouble, and by trouble I mean we like to do really funny things that are only funny to us and can’t in any way get us arrested, listened to him. We should have done it. We should have just wound down the windows and done it. However, we must have been singing / talking pretty loud for him to of heard us say that over his Ipod.
*Becky’s brother is blowing bubbles out the window. Awesome.
All of a sudden Becky started politely freaking out as she was seeing something out her side window and couldn’t figure out what was going on. She then caught Nate in her rear view mirror blowing bubbles. Why she had a thing of bubbles in her car is anyone’s guess. However, it didn’t shock me. We’ve either known each other for too long, or we’re really that weird. Both of us. Together. And Nate is the only sane one. Nah.
*I am now one of those people who picsk on high school kids for thinking they’re, “too cool.” I never liked those people. Awesome.
This goes back to before we left, and Nate got off his bus with no backpack, carrying his books. Becky asked him where his backpack was, he said he didn’t take one, and the taunting ensued. He walked away, went in his bedroom, shut the door and changed clothes. Clearly he’s the smarter one out of all of us.
Last but not least, we have general story time, with a mixture of IMs, Tweets and texts that go ever so swimmingly along with this.
-Have you ever met those young people who really want to get married and have a family, only they want to do it on their own terms where they can still have a their own life and a relationship? Then all their friends get married around them and their friends never wanted to get married and have families? Yeah. I’m one of those people. When you’re one of those people, this is what happens.
*OMG! I found the person I’m marrying!
Whomever wrapped him in this blanket so he can’t move...I’m marrying.
This probably needs explained, but I won’t add the picture and leave this to the imagination, assuming you all still have imaginations. If not, you can borrow my very actively creative one. Let me just set up the picture for you. It’s a person wrapped like a sardine in a blanket and looking very sad because they’re unable to move and literally stuck in the blanket until someone comes and unwraps them. The person who did that to other certain ADHD person...I heart.
And then I changed my mind upon finding this entry on Texts From Last Night. This is an exact copy and paste.
(402): lol whn u cming hre I nd 2 c ur fce.
(I-402): IF YOU TEXT ME ONE MORE SHORTENED VERSION OF A WORD, THE ONLY THING YOU’LL SEE IS MY FIRST IN YOUR FACE.
*HAHA! I love it!
Maybe I should marry them instead.
I think it’s a given that I should marry them instead. I hate people who abbr. things and leave out vwls. Dnt u?
- And then when I was done finding non fictional people who I didn’t know to marry, my friend and I sulked over people around us getting married. You know, it’s what normal twenty somethings do with their Saturday and Sunday nights. It’s not...is it?
*We’re both like QUIT GETTING MARRIED!
And then, after we sulked about not being married and realized we’re the only two people we know who really want to be married, and we’re each of the opposite sex, and he announced he was tired of having sex with himself, it was a natural segue way into the following.
*Me: “On behalf of your very tired hand, I am offering to take over in exchange for a wedding and a kid. Thoughts?”
Him: “Date? Time? Wedding planner we’re using?”
Later the friend who introduced us found out about this and decided we were absolutely the most hilarious people he knew separate, and together we were killing him. He also decided I need to live where they live just so we could hang out together all the time and he could have entertainment. There were also mentions of him paying me to make sure said person didn’t leave the house with a seventies hairdo and ugly clothing, but I don’t think it’s possible to rip all the ugly away from him.
-I have a favorite show that’s not a new favorite show, but it feels new because I was so busy watching CSI the past few seasons, that I missed this show just because it was on at the exact same time and I can’t watch two things at once. Then I caught a re-run of this show the other night, and now I’m hooked all over again and trying to decide if I will watch CSI tonight (I did), or if I will watch it (I didn't). And by it I mean Supernatural. I’ve been watching my box sets of the first two seasons, which are the only ones I own, just because it makes me happy...and happy sparks all kinds of conversations. Ta da! I now present them to you.
*I hear country music and I think I specifically hear it playing in a scene of Supernatural, as Dean drives his Impala down the open roads of Kansas.
This is great that I do this, because I really do, but Dean only listens to 70’s music and it’s rare they’re even driving through Kansas, even though that’s where they’re from, as they road trip all over the nation. However, the Impala is bitchin', and the guy who plays Dean is a huge fan of country music and a singer, plus does theater, so you can see why I see him, think country music, and then automatically put it to the role I know him from. Right?
*You know when you’re having a bad day and you don’t feel like doing anything, and you’re like, “Fuck, what should I watch?” Because you know you’re going to eat a whole tub of ice cream in your pajamas? Well, that show wins because it has a cute guy in it.
Two, actually, but one is cuter than the other. Sorry, Jared. But really, as a girl, we totally do this. When life sucks, you don’t feel like doing anything, are bummed out, and just wanna pass time, you always go for shows with hot guys. Don’t tell me that’s just me. I know it’s not.
*Dean just had an entire conversation with a scarecrow and then went, “Dude, you fugly,” and walked away.
Maybe I’m looking at this marriage thing wrong. Can you marry a fictional character on a television show? What do you mean no?
*Good line: "God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work.”
Although a Supernatural quote, so true. This just goes to show that the show is both, very funny, and crudely honest.
*Dean: “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Sam: “No.”
Dean: “Good, because that would be awkward.”
Yep, actually texted those lines to someone.
*I should probably stop watching Supernatural when my mom goes to bed, as everyone screams on there, and one day I’ll scream because something is wrong and she’ll just think I’m watching Supernatural.
Hey, good news. She assures me once she’s sleeping, she’s out, so even if I did scream, she wouldn’t hear me. Problem solved. Err...remind things to never go wrong after she goes to bed. Or make sure no spiders come around. Thanks.
*Ah. See, I thought you watched it. Short explanation, Jo’s in love with Dean, and Dean with her, although he won’t admit it. And Ellen, Jo’s mom, is close to Dean. But Jo’s possessed and attacking her mom and Sam, Dean’s brother, and there doesn’t seem to be another option but to kill her. And I think the worst part of this is that I’m managing to follow this bullhookey.
No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part was that I was on the edge of my seat enjoying ever minute of it. The things I admit to...I should not be allowed to have a blog.
*“There’s two things I know for sure. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: I’m not letting you die a virgin.”
Said by a guy to a guy. You guys - pun intended - why are you not watching this show?
*This awesome lady just said, “your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.” Then she looks at Dean and walks away.
Listen, Dean is a big guy...with moobs, and he was in a tight shirt. But I should explain they're good moobs. Like, the sexy man moobs. See? You're freaking welcome for the picture, by the way. Okay...now that you all understand that. Moobs aren’t always bad on a man. Just usually.
-Did you ever have one of those friends who has the same exact sense of humor as you, only this is really bad because you know eventually it’s going to get you arrested, but you laugh anyway? And other texts between me and that person.
*Me: “Babe, how does it take one twelve hours to get home on a four hour drive?”
Him: “One decides to gamble before leaving Vegas, and then gets lost on the way home from taking a ‘shortcut.” Mrs. GPS told me to do it.”
Only he was serious. Twelve hours on a four hour drive. TWELVE HOURS on a FOUR HOUR drive. How do I attract these people who have a worse sense of direction than me? Okay, actually mine’s pretty good, so a good many people actually have a worse sense of direction than me, but still. In case this wasn’t clear, it took him TWELVE HOURS to get home when it should have taken him FOUR! And he does this drive often. He KNOWS these roads. *Shakes head*
*Me: "Why was one drunken texting me while driving home?”
Him: “One was not drunk. One was gambling. While texting. It has the same effect.”
Me: “Good to know.”
So now when I go gambling with my mom and Charlene like they’ve been asking me to do, I know that I can act like I’m obliterated and it’s totally okay because no one will think I’m drunk or anything. Everyone will understand that I’m just gambling. Right...glad that’s all cleared up.
-Sometimes you just have those people who don’t go away. Then you don’t know how to get them to go away. They can’t take a hint. They can’t take a direct quote. They just stick to you like white on rice. Or blue on blue crayon. Yeah, okay, I apologize for that last one. Anyway, then one person comes along covered in white light with the saving grace of the day, and you could swear they were an angel from above, or a superhero. That person became Becky, and the following is a play by play of her angelic superhero-ness.
*I just realized I’m forever indebted to you. I’ve had the same person text me almost thirty times, and call me six since a little after nine, all of which I’ve ignored. But it’s not stopping and I was trying to find the perfect thing to say to them. I think “You’re evicking siegelnvs,” covers it with a certain grandeur that I could not have produced on my own.
In all fairness, this could totally be filed under typos, but this wasn’t my typo. While Becky was on Texts From Last Night, she discovered a text where someone said “This is evicking siegelnvs,” to which the other person replied, “I’m sorry?” Then it was cleared up when the first person said “this is fucking ridiculous.” So it’s obvious the first person meant to type fucking ridiculous and failed on a monumental scale. Maybe I should marry them. Oh, the options of marriage to people I don’t know are so endless. To further understand why she was such a saving grace, I will take you through my previous thought process of such.
*I was tempted to ask my friend how you swear at someone in German, and then I remembered he (the person I was going to swear in German to) DOES speak German, so it wouldn’t be fun.
I also remembered he would be the person I was asking how to swear in German, as he’s fluent in it. This defeated the non important purpose. The goal here was to ultimately come up with something to say to him that would stun him so badly that he would have no idea what I was saying, but because he has a lot of pride, would not say anything to me because he thinks he’s the one who is missing something or undereducated, and then he would proceed to spend hours googling my mumbo jumbo just to figure out what was going on. He does this, and it would be the perfect revenge. Then evicking siegelnvs came along and saved my day like this.
*Knowing he’d think I was swearing at him in another language and not ask me what it meant.
And he didn’t.
So yes, if you were wondering, evicking siegelnvs works. Thanks to superhero Becky, my mission was now accomplished. And we all lived happily ever after.
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