Backa Backa Backa

I come bearing three stories that are guaranteed to make you laugh. In fact, if you don’t laugh, I will give you all your time back that you lost reading this blog. It may take me until the time of my death to do so, as I can’t say I know Father Time personally, but I promise that I will maybe, one day in your lifetime, give you your time back. Possibly.

Last week I had wandered into Peebles, which is some kind of newer store we have here that I’m still up in the air about. It tries to be a department store, but its building structure and decor are reminiscent of K-Mart and the prices are higher than ones you would find in Macy’s, when the product is of lesser quality. Occasionally you can find a really rockin’ deal, but a lot of times the clothes that are on clearance resemble more of something you would find at a second hand store. This item would also be from somewhere around the seventies, or a bedazzling product that went wrong. I realize this may not be the case at all Peebles, but at this particular one this is the case. This will be important in a moment.

The reason for my visit was that I was searching for pants for my mom. They’re the only place that sells pants with gum in them around here, which are just the kind of pants my mom likes. The pants, as a whole, are actually decent dress pants. I had gotten her a pair on sale for a super great price before, and was hoping to get the same deal. No luck. However, what I did get will stay with me and go down in the top ten in my hall of awesomeness.

After having no luck with the pants, I made my way back to the shoes to see if I could find a good deal on them. In our store, the shoes happen to be right in front of the dressing rooms. I’m unsure of who this made sense to, but apparently to someone, either that, or they just thought it would be funny to put the dressing rooms on the opposite side of the store from where the clothing is. As I was perusing the shoe aisles, some sixty something lady comes flying out of the dressing room with no shirt on, yelling about how she was missing her shirt. Yeah...I know. How does this happen, you ask.

Now guys, I’m not totally sure, as I didn’t hear the whole thing, but I shall relate what I gathered. Someway, somehow, while this lady was in the dressing room trying on clothes, the dressing room attendant got a hold of her actual shirt and proceeded to hang it up and place it on the sales rack. I can’t for the life of me figure out how this could have happened. Was the lady trying on a shirt, and outside of her dressing room looking in the full length mirror when the attendant snuck in her room and cleared it out? If so, why didn't the lady come out in the shirt she was trying on? Did the lady happen to walk out of the room in her bra because it was fun and the attendant got in there and cleaned out the dressing room? I really have no clue. I would have crept up on them and listened in very closely, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I was listening.

All I know was that the shirtless lady originally bought her shirt at Peebles. This shirt was now on clearance, so the attendant took it upon herself to hang the shirt up in the sales rack. Now, in discredit to the attendant, the fact that she hung a shirt up with no price tag was pretty sad on her part. I usually don’t pick on people in jobs as such, as I’ve been there, but come on! How could she not notice there was no tag? And she didn’t bother to put a price tag on it, which is how she was able to go through the sales rack and pick out which shirt belonged to the lady in a sea of shirts that looked the same; it was the shirt with no price tag. The lady was half angry and half laughing over the way she literally lost her shirt. Needless to say, I split out of there like a bat out of hell, before I burst into a fit of laughter that would give me away. I love people.

I don’t know how many of you know about the odd dreams I often have, but for those of you who don’t, I’ll just put this in the most understated way possible. I have odd dreams. We’re not talking slightly odd dreams. We’re talking Alice In Wonderland worthy dreams. I don’t even take anything that would cause these dreams. I'm not into that. This is all me. I think that’s possibly the scariest part. I’ve yet to decide if I’m a really creative person with an imaginative way of thinking, or if I should check myself into a mental hospital. That being said, I will let you decide by sharing my most recent wacky dream with all of you.

In this particular dream I was an FBI agent that worked on a team with two guys and one other girl. Aside from the fact that someone actually let me have a gun, this all seems very normal, right? Yeah, not so much.

My job as an FBI agent?

The chase and capture a man who was hiding on a fishing boat and growing eggs that would hatch kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. Yes, kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties. You read that right, folks.

This is where it really gets bizarre, because eggs hatching kitties and puppies is obviously not bizarre enough. We were chasing after him on the boat. Two agents went upstairs on this boat, because for some reason this fishing boat was some kind of Mob fishing boat that was tricked out to resemble a dive diner. The upstairs of this boat was the living quarters. Myself and the other male agent, who was my partner, headed into the diner where we spotted the perp carrying the eggs in a wrap around his stomach. We decided to play it cool, get something to eat, watch him, and then at the safest and most opportune time, we would take him down. Therefore, we had to eat and pretend like we were dating, while we texted the other agents to have them come down. Once they made their way down, we took the guy down.

And this is where the dream passes bizarre. As we were taking him down, he pointed a water gun at me. This terrified me beyond possible belief, even though he didn’t shoot. I therefore did the most logical thing and shot him with my gun. This is when I realized my gun wasn’t loaded, which obviously meant someone was smart enough to not give me a loaded gun. The three shots I fired obviously did nothing, but the perp played dead anyway. That’s when my partner took the eggs and ran before the guy realized he wasn’t actually dead. It took three of us to arrest this guy who honestly believed he was dead and never tried to move. After we did so, we got him into local police custody and went after our agent who had the eggs. Why he took off with them instead of also giving them to the local police, I don’t remember. I think it had something to do with these eggs being some kind of super secret hybrids that Fort Detrick had been trying to detain. Apparently kitties and puppies, but mostly kitties, are that awesome that they must be kept top secret.

In terms of weird; this is where we fall right down the rabbit hole and bump out heads pretty hard, and then start hallucinating. The other agents and myself went after my partner, who, if you remember, had taken off with the eggs. We ran along the water line, back towards our hotel, only to find him just past the dock that went to our hotel, because naturally the hotel was in the middle of the water and you could only get there by crossing a dock. Said partner was being chased by a snake that walked like a hunched over human, but definitely had the head and body of a very large, thick, walking snake. We yelled to him and distracted the snake long enough for him to turn around and start back towards the hotel. As he was running towards us, we could see that the kitties and puppies were starting to hatch. Obviously, this was bad because the snake wanted to eat them. We ran quickly over the dock thinking we had one up on the human snake, but no, the snake could swim. It was neck and neck with us as we ran, but finally we got ahead of it and got into the main entrance of the hotel. We stopped to breathe only to find the snake had snuck into the side entrance. It was closing in on us quickly...

In terms of weird; this is now where we are beginning to wake up from the coma we had been put in from hitting our head after falling into the rabbit hole. Obviously medication is involved, so we’re still quite loopy. Just as we thought the snake had us for sure and we couldn’t shoot it because none of our guns are loaded, it started to talk. It had a male voice and it didn’t sound very threatening. And then it did something totally unreal. It took off my head and underneath it was...prepare yourself.

My sister.

Let’s recap, shall we? I don’t have a sister. I never have.

And now you’ve officially been introduced to my most personal and uncontrolled thoughts that I have when I enter the deep world of slumber. I don’t know if I should tell you you’re welcome, or apologize. So I’ll do both. You’re sorry. See, it’s a mix of both.

One thing you all do know about me is that I often watch odd and horrible television shows out of boredom. The harder the show sucks, the dumber it is, or especially if it’s a “scary” movie on Chiller or Sci-Fi, I am so there. This doesn’t exclude ridiculous reality shows either. To credit this, I must say I thoroughly enjoy “TRANSform Me” on VH1. Those biatches have some serious style. I hate it when transvestites are prettier than myself, a natural woman. I get more jealous of them than born women that are prettier than me. I think this is normal.

But that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the show Amazing Wedding Cakes. It doesn’t really fit into the above category, because it’s not an odd show, but it is a reality show. I, like a lot of women, am into the whole wedding show craze. I mean, I’m 24 with no boyfriend, but weddings still make me all giggly and fuzzy inside, so I watch.

I happened to come in late to watch Amazing Wedding Cakes the other night and missed the part where the bakeries interview the clients about what kind of cake they want. I came in, in the middle of a very gorgeous cake being made. The manager kept a close eye on the cake and made sure to reiterate to the employees that they really had to be careful to find the right balance of masculinity and femininity with this cake. I thought this was just amazingly sweet and such a great sign of a good, attentive owner, because no husband wants a girly cake and no woman wants to forget their husband when it comes to their wedding cake. I watched as they painstakingly hand made flowers out of fondant and added them, but not too many, and painted the decoration on the cake, but didn’t make it too masculine. When the thing was done, it was an absolute masterpiece. It was something both a man and woman would adore, and I had the ultimate appreciation for this specific bakery. Then they showed it at the wedding. The couple they had just painstakingly tried to find a balance of masculinity and femininity for?

Two gay men.

I am so confused. All I do know is that if I finally get tired of men and go lesbian, I’m definitely getting my cake there when I get married, that way I’ll know that my cake will have the right amount of masculinity for me and my wife.

For those of you who have not had to endure my texts, let me assure you that this is not an easy task. Most people send normal texts such as “what are you doing today,” and “how have you been?” I tend to send texts more along the lines of this:

“LMAO, so random. It’s like a breakup story and a country song what with him giving you your stuff back. Or should I say a country song in reverse.”

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to text your brother and be like, ‘SCRATCH AT THE WALLS!’ Good thing I don’t have his number.”

“I prefer ‘Evil Genius,’ but thanks.”

“Maybe it’s a lesboa. Maybe we have this lesboa thing all wrong.”

“You expect demons to do things pure evil from the bottom of their non existent hearts. Humans, not so much.”

“Other than buy the DVD and giggle the whole way home?”

“Darn. What if we do chalk outlines of lampposts and name them?”

These are actual texts that I sent to others. I realize those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile are familiar with my weird texting from the segments where I would post my actual texts on here, but I thought I would give you all a new dose of texts, because what you’re about to see takes my texting weirdness to a new level and you won’t be able to unsee it. Just a warning.

Oh, the name of this text was Backa Backa Backa. It got its name from the Sabrina the Teenage Witch where Aunt Zelda transforms into a monster for Sabrina's movie she is producing, and proceeds to walk across the camera saying "backa backa backa" to bookmark the scenes.

The story behind the text is, and yes, it’s so weird that I feel the need to explain it, is as follows: I woke up very sick in my stomach last night. I couldn’t fall back to sleep and needed something to do that didn’t require moving, so I turned on the television hoping to be entertained. I thought I fell asleep watching Criminal Minds on ION and then later got up and turned the TV off, but apparently I fell asleep watching something on Teen Nick, because when I turned the television on, I was immediately assaulted with a Justin Bieber video. The video was just beginning and I proceeded to be in shock as I watched it the whole way through. During this time several things occurred to me, prompting the following text.

But before I get into the text, let me just say that I have nothing against Justin Bieber, but he’s not my cup of tea. For those of you who don’t know who he is, he’s that boy that everyone always thinks is a girl when they hear him sing. Then, when you see him, he dresses like mess of a white boy, writes music that’s usually pointed at a far different age range and demographic, and tries to dance like Michael Jackson and fails. I feel he’s singing songs he knows nothing about at his age, and he’s part of everything that’s wrong with the music industry. I’m tired of people trying to act older than they are, while trying to appeal to a younger audience and coming across completely fake. I just think he’s faking who he really is to sell albums. And maybe he’s not, so if you like him, I am sorry. This is just how I feel when I hear his songs, or, as so happened last night, see his videos. Also, he’s sixteen and his voice hasn’t even begun to change. WTF is up with that, guys?

Anyway, onto the world’s oddest and longest text:

This is a list of things that I am now curious about after seeing a Justin Bieber video for the first time:

1. In the video, Justin is chasing his “first love” around. Do they really expect us to believe someone was actually in love with that little dude that wasn’t a gay boy? I call Justin Beiber is stalking said girl, thus why she is running.

2. How bankrupt is Ludacris that he both lent his “vocals” to the song and admitted it, as well as made his way into the music video?

3. How come people always hear Justin and think it’s Christina Aguilera. This must be a fluke, as not only am I personally insulted for Christina, but I’m also insulted as a woman. (Let's compare: Justin ... Christina.)

4. Do they really think it’s respectful to mock Michael Jackson by having some little white “dude” “dance” his moves? Dude can not dance and is basically just insulting himself and The King. This should be illegal. And since when is it okay for a 16 year old to do pelvic thrusts and grab his crotch, assuming he’s got anything to grab?

5. Is possible he’s related to Lady Gaga? No one’s proven her to be a woman yet, just as no one’s proven him to be a man, and at his age his voice should have at least started to change but hasn’t. Until proven otherwise, I remain insulted that someone like him could be a woman, but I won’t totally rule it out.

6. Who discovered him / thought giving him a career / thought giving him his own music video was a good idea?

7. Is that person, per say, a lifetime alcoholic with serious brain damage? (I'm sorry, you guys. I really am. I just think this kid has no business in the industry. There's so many talented people out there, and I'm not saying he's not talented, but there's just too many people who are eons more talented than him that should be out there. Do his albums even sell? Because I've yet to come across someone who likes him and doesn't make fun of him.)

8. Is he related to this person? After thinking this out further, I realize it’s highly doubtful his parents would resort to claiming their relation to him by putting him in the industry, before they would risk less humiliation by simply whoring themselves out on the streets if they were that in need of money.

9. Are we absolutely sure he’s not related to Lady Gaga? I often toy with the theory that there’s no way her parents watch her dance in videos wearing only pasties and are proud of her. More in the some, there’s no way Justin’s parents are proud he sounds like / looks like a lesbian willingly. They have to have the same parents if pride is possible.

10. Why didn’t I just change the channel?

On another note, I think Miranda Cosgrove is adorable. She sings songs that fit her look, her brand, and her age range. It appeals to her audience. Sure, her songs are a bit cheesy, but she knows what age range she’s playing to and what's appropriate for her age range, yet older people can like her too because she’s clean and herself. She has a long way to go as far as improving her technique, but her tone is absolutely gorgeous. I think there's a ton of potential there. I hope she continues to work on it and taps into all that potential. I want to see more Mirandas and Selena Gomezs and less of Justins. Please?

Tune in closer to Easter for a special presentation.

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.

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.