All Excited Like

Oh my gosh, do I have some blogging excitement for you. It's so intense, so lovely...so absolutely amazing that you will not even be able to take it. Okay, so I'm probably lying and you'll be just fine but nothing more with the information I give you, however, I'm hoping that you’ll go with me on this one and at least have a laugh. I was going to post this last night, but I was so tired that my eyelids were arguing with the rest of my face just to stay open. For future reference, they won.

Now, if you've been reading this blog for awhile you know that it's very rare that I make lists on this blog, and will do it when necessary. Usually I rant from paragraph to paragraph and just keep changing the subject, but this time I will spare you because I have a bunch of different categories to write about. I would like this to make sense, but I think sense ran out my window awhile ago. Please just know that this all happened between Tuesday night and yesterday night...all in a twenty four hour period. If this doesn't make sense to you, imagine how I felt while living through it, and still feel now that I'm reliving it through here. Yeah, just think about it.

First of all, though, I want to take a minute to talk about this. It happened the other night in my area and my heart goes out to all of the people who were hurt, killed, or somehow involved in this and their families. This includes the family of the man who committed the act, because they, too, lost a son. I know that in a time like this it is so easy to forget that, and to hate them, but they are not the one who committed the act, only the innocent bystanders. May everyone who lost a life R.I.P. May those who have not keep on fighting and have a full recovery.

Because nothing in my life is cold cut and dry, I must explain to you all how I found out about this horrific tragedy. Look, I don’t watch a lot of television, and if I do, it’s usually not the news. I get all my news from the internet, but often don’t bother to check the local news, so I probably wouldn’t have even known about it if it wasn’t for this little incident.

Tuesday night I was sitting in my room gleefully typing away when my mom comes in and goes “I am so pissed off. The one show I watch (Big Brother) and they have to interrupt with a stupid newscast. There was a shooting or something and I am just so pissed off.” You know, I understand she loves her big brother, but hello, other people are pissed off too because THEY’VE BEEN SHOT! Just thought I’d point that out.

After I did find this out, I came into the living room and turned on the television to the newscast of the shooting. There was a newscaster interviewing an eye witness, naturally. What wasn't natural is this conversation.

Eye Witness: "There were a few victims coming out of the building, holding their wounds and looking for help."

Newscaster: "So, how did they look?"

*Pause for an awkward moment in which the eye witness stands and stares at the newscaster like it's not only his first day on the job, but he's also on drugs.*

Newscaster: "Well, I mean I know they were shot and everything, but did they look like they were doing okay? Obviously they weren't in good shape, but what did their general demeanor seem to be like?"

Eye Witness: "They were SHOT and fleeing for help. I really have no idea what you're asking me."

My responses, as I yelled at the television like the people on it could hear me: "How do you think they looked. They were just shot! It's not like they were gleeful!"

And that folks, is a total norm here in western Pennsylvania. Too bad my mom wasn't up to see that. I'm sure she couldn't have complained about missing her show after that. That's just straight up comedy that not even the best writers could script.

Speaking of my mother, let me just list the random little conversations we’ve had in that twenty four hour period of which I speak.

* My mom wanted me to get something for her Tuesday night, so instead of giving me the normal, “Hey, go get that please and thanks,” she says this instead.

“Hey Amy, go get me the screen. Please, with bumblebees on top.”

This was not a normal request, so I gave her the best reply I had.

“If bumblebees are involved, then hell no.”

And I walked away. (To get the screen, of course.)

* Tuesday we were also discussing how someone cut his hair and how nice it looked compared to his last haircut. Now, the proper response to this would be, “Oh wow, he looks really nice with that haircut. He looks so much better with it.” My response, however, was this.

"Obviously he was pretty drugged up here (in the picture of his old hair cut), which really didn't help his haircut. But nothing was going to help that hairdo. Where is his mother?"

My mom's response? Poignant agreement.

* I also learned that my mom pronounces chamomile like this. Cam-a-lot-ti. I want to give her an a for effort, but there's two problems with that. There is no a in efforts, and I don't really know what kind of effort it took for her to pronounce something that incorrectly, so let's just give her an F for effort, knowing that it makes as much sense as giving her an a for effort.

* Also in the course of the night, I got up to get away from her watching of Big Brother that incidentally got interrupted. When doing this, she looks straight at me and goes.

"I never see you anymore!"

My response: "I live with you and I'm not allowed to drive because I'm sick. I'm home all the time..."

* Yesterday was full of doctors appointments yesterday, and while waiting for my Grandma's doctor in the room, I got up to go to the bathroom, which really isn't important, but I like to over share. When I came back, I walked into the room to my mom saying this. It was just she and my eighty one year old Grandma, no doctor yet, so I don't even want to know.

"You know, rubbers. Like you put on."

There were hand motions involved. That's all I'm saying.

And while we're on the subject of my mom, we may as well go right into what Aunt Bev said while she was here Tuesday night, because as we all know those two go together like two peas in a pod. Or, you know, two crazy people in an insane asylum. (Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Aunt Bev. However, I will be the one taking care of both of you in your senior years, so I'm just picking on you guys now while it's still okay and not terribly evil and rude and what not. If I do it when you're in your 80's and in a home, that would just be impolite.)

* I'm not even going to say what this is in reference to, because honestly, it's just not worth it. It speaks for itself whether you know the situation or not, and the situation is not mine to discuss. (See, I have morals, Mom and Aunt Bev. Really, I do.)

Aunt Bev: "It's easier to have sex in a bed than a chair. You didn't hear that, Amy."

It's refreshing to know that no matter how old I get, I will always be twelve in her eyes. Even if that was eleven years ago. Well, eleven and a half to be more specific, but who likes specifics anyway? Oh, that's right. I do.

* On a side note, though, Aunt Bev mentioned that I was like a daughter to her. I was the daughter she never got to have, which really touched me because she's like a really awesome second mommy to me. It made my whole year, and the whole rest of it as well.

As I mentioned a little bit ago, yesterday was all day doctors appointments. We were gone for a full twelve hours which just wiped me the hell out. My grandma had three appointments and I had one, but there were also four hours between two of my grandma's appointments, and our last two in which we see the same doctor back to back. With a day like this, it left a lot of room for hilarity, especially when we left so early that we were too tired to think correctly.

Now, I've mentioned my grandmother before, but unless you've been reading this blog for a good long time, you wouldn't know that. You can find the prior posts here and here. However, one of the funniest, most prolific stories comes from within one of those really insanely long blogs, and it gets lost. Therefore, I will post it below in italics. I hate doing re-posts, but I'm not mean enough to make you search out the story in the blog, and for you to really get the full impact of why I had such a blast with my grandmother yesterday, you have to understand her, and the story below is probably the best way for you to really get a good grasp on who she is and how quirky she is. Basically, think Aunt Bev only older.

This got us started on older guys that are hot, and could get away with dating twenty somethings and it wouldn't be all that weird. My grandma sat there as Aunt Bev and I tossed around over forty guys that had it going on. Eventually we started pulling up pictures on my Sidekick and making my eighty one year old grandma rate them. It was awesome and went a lot like this.

For some reason, the first person Aunt Bev threw out there was Flavor Flav. Luckily, it was as a joke and we laughed hysterically, because no offense, but he's a little frightening. We showed a picture of him to my grandma and she didn't know how to react. She was between thinking it hilarious and being really frightened. My grandma tries not to say too much, but sometimes things just slip out. The best she had for him was that he was "interesting." For my grandma, that's like saying he's special in the paste eating kind of way.

From there I pointed out Jensen Ackles from the show Supernatural. He's only thirty one, so he wasn't really in our "hot older guys" age range, but after Flavor Flav, we just needed some kind of hotness. I showed my grandma the same picture of him attached to the link at his name, and she sat there and stared at it for awhile, and then said "this is much better." To her, that's like saying he's a fucking hottie.

We moved on to my beloved George Eads. Okay, beloved is a strong word, but you get the picture. I think he's really one of those guys who could get away with dating a twenty something and it would all be okay and no one would think it to be that odd. Grandma rated him pretty high on her scale, however I can't remember the exact wording.

My mom had heard us talking from the bedroom and came out to join in. After she and Aunt Bev named a bunch of people who were in their forties in the seventies, therefore making them irrelevant, as we were trying to figure out forty somethings that were hot now and I wouldn't think it would be creepy to date, she finally came out with a good one. I don't know how many of you remember the show Walker, Texas Ranger (yes, that show with Chuck Norris), but in the last two seasons of it they added a younger ranger who was played by Judson Mills. Although grandma didn't say much about him, at the end of the conversation, she decided he was her favorite.

My mom also decided she liked Judson, but has a special place for poor thirty one year old Jenson. Now that's creepy. Aunt Bev took the otherwise not mentioned Johnny Depp. I didn't show him to my grandma, because he's never really sparked any desire within me. I don't find him hot and I realize that I am probably the only girl on the entire planet that does not, but I just don't. Anyway, surprise to everyone, I picked George Eads.

See how my Grandma and Aunt Bev are one in the same? See? You do, right? I mean, how many grandma's could you talk about hot older guys with, and have her rate them? None, right? Right! Just go with me on this one. Thank you!

Okay, now that that's done, I will get into her first of several quotes from yesterday of which I twittered just because they were that great and I wanted to remember them.

* This first one comes from when she was getting her vitals taken in the doctor's office. They take vitals through a little clamp on your finger which is dandy, except Grandma has Scleroderma and one of the symptoms is that her hands are always freezing their butts off. (Not that hands have butts, but go with me here.) This often means that she either can't get a read, or gets an incorrect one that could scare death into any good nurse, especially interns. So per the usual, the nurse was taking my grandma's vitals and after several times of the nurse making her sit on her hands, stand on her head, and just about every other hilarious thing, my grandma looks at her with a dead pan face and goes.

"I think you just gave up on me last time."

If you know my grandma, this is basically her way of saying, "Hey, Bitch, you are a nice lady and all but don't make me sit on my hands one more time. I am old and this is just not going to work." Despite that, this nurse did eventually have success and we cheered. Not out loud or anything, but believe me, we were doing it.

* Later on we were filling out questionnaires for the one doctor who we both see at the same time. I went and retrieved the papers early and we did it while we were eating lunch in that big four hour gap. While filling them out this happened.

Grandma (Reading aloud): "Do you have any pain today?"

And then, without missing a beat, she goes, "I AM a pain!"

* Also, while we were sitting and talking, Gram was telling us about how my Great Uncle went to visit my other Uncle who really isn't my Uncle's house in Utah. He built it on a mountain side, so it was straight up and down, four stories. Now understand that the Uncle who went to visit is in his eighties, so my grandma was asking him how he liked the house. His response.

"It was nice, but I've never been to the top."

Yes, that does way what you think it does. He was there for ten days and only saw the first two floors. He never bothered to go past that. He just didn't care. I love my family.

* The one doctor that we both see was over an hour behind, but that didn't stop the nurses from putting us all in the tiny room for that wait, so my mom was trying to amuse herself by looking out the window. My mom was waving to people and everything, but because of where the window was situated, they never saw her. It's kind of creepy if you think about it. My grandma eventually got bored and decided to be the peanut gallery.

Grandma: "Stop flirting with the guys out there."

Mom: "It was a girl and I was just waving."

Grandma: "That's even worse."

I guess you had to be there for this one, but the way my grandma said it killed. I was just waiting for the lesbian insinuations to go flying, but Grandma behaved. Well, for awhile at least.

* Then she realized she, too, could look out the window and wave at people, and also talk to them even though they couldn't see or hear her. We were just all that bored. While she was at the window, I decided to inquire about what she was seeing since both she and my mom spent a significant amount of time by it by I had not.

Me: "Are there any hot guys out there?"

Grandma: "No. They're all stupid looking."

And she was serious. Now, folks, what makes this, other than an eighty year old busting out with that, is that the hospital we were at is also right in the middle of a college campus and there are many, many young interns there. To be fair, though, in all the times I've been up there, I've only ever seen one hot guy. Sad, isn't it? Then again, should I really be trying to pick up guys at the doctors? That kind of defeats the whole point of going to said doctors.

There are also some things that I learned, I realized, or that had happen over that twenty four hour period. They go as follows.

* I love when game show hosts say inappropriate things. Especially at a doctor's office with a ton of older people watching. It kind of makes my world go round.

* It's okay to admit defeat when you've actually been defeated. Everyone is defeated at some point in their life, but what counts is that you get back up again and keep going. You don't even have to smile. You just have to try.

* Becky and I are very capable of having long, drawn out conversations about how we are confused because someone else is confused. It's pretty hinky and my life loves me. This is just right up my alley.

* My mom's teeny, tiny, almost microscopic purse is heavier than my large one with a copy of Breaking Dawn inside of it. And no, I don't carry Twilight Saga books with me everywhere. I had to have something to do while we sat and waited, although I only read like five pages, and that was after we got back to my Grandma's later. So yeah, okay, I guess technically I did just carry it around for no reason.

* I overheard this conversation exactly. As the receptionist sat at her desk in a very open main lobby of the hospital, she turns and says to a co-worker "I said to my therapist, I want to be three again." She said "No, you can't." I told her, "But that's when my life started going wrong. That's the age everything went downhill for me." I hope she doesn't wonder why she's in therapy. I don't.

*I insulted someone I didn't know without knowing it. I was making fun of my friend and his penchant for wearing girls jeans, cowboy belt buckles and flannel shirts, and apparently some guy standing behind my mother that I could not see was wearing just that. Hey, it's not my fault he dresses poorly. He has to know that's not a good way to dress, right? Oh God, please tell me I'm right!

* There was a guy in the one office waiting room who was in his forties and busy texting when Ellen happened to say "Today on our show we have Kris Allen." This guy's head snapped up and faced the television so fast that I thought it was going to fall off. Then Ellen said "He will be here later." The guy made an ick face and went back to texting. Then, right before Kris came on, the guy got called back. I was amused by him. Scared, but amused.

* There was a comic in the doctor's office that had two cows on it. They sat on the couch staring at the phone, and it said. "There it goes again." ... "And we just sit here without opposable thumbs." It's either so hilarious that it's deadly, or so stupid that it's not funny at all, but the randomosity of it wins no matter how you look at it. Who comes up with stuff like that?

* I was reminded of the story where Aunt Bev used to rubber band her poofy slips way back in the day so that she could get them all in her closet, and one day her father got in her closet only to have the rubber bands break and her slips fly all over the place. When Aunt Bev came home she found him standing there astounded by these slips that were all over the place. He looked at her and said: "I don't know how you control these things. How can own something you can't control?" Then he walked out of the room totally astounded and in shock that he really was just attacked by his daughter's slips. I don't know if I've told this story before, but it was worth repeating.

* I was one hundred percent owned by Greta Hayley. I got her a cookie and she sat down with it only to have it roll under the cedar chest. She started to cry towards it, so I realized what was going on and got up to get the treat out, and then went back to what I was doing. A few minutes later she started looking and crying at the cedar chest again, so I went back over thinking the cookie had taken off again. I got down on the floor, shoved my head up against it, generally looked like a goober, only to find that there was no cookie over there. She punked me. And when I got back up, she barked at me and then ran in circles all excited like. She totally knew she did it. She was proud.

* I was very unfortunately reminded of the time that I had to go to the hospital for a foot injury which involved a 120lb wooden crate coming down no my foot. My grandma also had to go to the same hospital that day for one simple test, so it worked out. That was until Grandma's test results didn't come back so great and she ended up having to have an invasive test done right there and then, and it took about six hours. I couldn't walk, Grandma couldn't walk, and my mom was the only one there to push both wheelchairs. Add my eighty four year old Aunt to the mix, because she just wanted to go with us, and let's just say you had more chaos than one can explain. To make it even better, when we finally got home almost twelve hours later, my Aunt thanked us for taking her because she had a nice day. I LOVE my family. Seriously. They don't usually get along, but everyone gets along with me and visa versa, so from this angle it's a whole lot of funny.

* I saw the word tithe on a church sign and had to google what it meant. I know that's really bad, but it's an old English word. Apparently old English words sound dirty.

Okay, that's all for today. (Thank God, right?) Tomorrow will probably be a short post, but I am planning on posting a picture of my new hair cut. Every time I get my hair cut short people tend to compare me to Alice Cullen from Twilight. Not the movie, but the way she was explained in the book. I can't help it I'm pale and small, and that people told me this prior to me knowing what the heck Twilight was. That picture is coming hopefully tomorrow. There should also be another picture win, too.

My Heart Cried to Me, So I Answered It With This

Sometimes we fall in love with our expectations, and others with our fantasies. Rarely do we fall for the real person and heart inside.

EDIT: I was in the car today listening to some music, and these songs own my heart. Click on the names to hear them.
It Only Took A Minute
Turn the Clock Around

Adding Ick To Gick, and Other Daily Happenings

Folks, let me just say that it is only 2:30 pm, I just reached my computer to write and I find myself already in a late day funk. I mean, it's only mid afternoon and here I am feeling like it's the end of the day. What is up with that? To top it off, I will not have a lot of writing time tomorrow, because my day is jam packed with at least eight solid hours of being gone due to doctors appointments. At least. I better get my writing cap on and lose the funk fast.

Because my funk is so overwhelming that I can barely stand myself, I think I will just point out a few fun things that I posted on my Twitter over the past few days, and then move right on along to one of those blogs I already have written up and keep saying I'm going to post but never do, because apparently I'm a liar who just keeps coming up with more things to write. Well, I lie no more. And for the record, yesterday's post was also one of those drafts in waiting, so ha!

As you all may or may not know, my kind of people live in Twitter world. And by my kind of people, I mean me. There's something about writing a 140 character note to yourself that really pisses me off and makes me all kinds of happy at the same time. So I don't really write tweets for anyone else, but me. They literally are like my own little notes to myself to remember really funny, bizarre, and listless things. I didn't even think I was going to use "that Twitter thing," as I so lovingly referred to it as at first, but it soon became my friend, one that I sometimes talk to. But as we established before, I will talk to anything. That being said, I have a story, but when do I ever not?

As you all should know, I have a thing for fifties clothing and what not, and Aunt Bev likes to be nice and awesome and give me all the fifties clothing that she was going to give away to Goodwill that was either hers or her moms back in the actual day it was made. Well, last night, as she and my mom were continuing to go through things, she found a box of really awesome fifties belts that are great for accessorizing a dress with, and my mom snatched them up and brought them home for me.

However, inside the box was something so horrible...so absolutely non divine that I don't even know if I can describe it. Had I not thrown it out already, I would take a picture and not have to do so, but I didn't, so I guess I'll explain.

They were suspenders. We're not talking any suspenders here, folks. Oh no. We're talking mauve suspenders with intertwining hunter green, dark blue and white diamonds. These diamonds were outlined in black, because there totally need to be more ick to go with the gick that they had already created. So what I'm saying is that there's no outfit in the world that these would go with unless you were dressed in all white or black. Then, if you did that and still wore the suspenders, I would have to ask you why you ruined an otherwise lovely outfit. They were just that bad, so my mom goes, "just throw them out." By the time she said this I was already holding them up to myself jokingly like I was going to put them on. She grabbed them off of me then to throw out, and that's when it came to me.

I looked at her and I said "No, I'm going to give them to the boy. He likes ugly, awkward things." This would be the part where my mom should go "he's not going to wear them!" Or "that's not even funny! Don't do that!" But she did not. Instead, she says "okay," and hands them back to me.

OKAY? OKAY! Let me just reiterate this. In what world is it ever okay to give someone suspenders that look like that? Ever? And in what world is it okay for someone to actually want to wear them? I mean, let's just start out with the fact that they're suspenders before we even think about the color, and then add the color later. But said boy, he would have totally worn them and we both knew it, so really, we did him a favor by throwing them out. I still retain that stance.

This goes right along with two tweets that I left a day prior, and the whole matchy / matchy tweet thing over the span of two days was not even on purpose. It was pure happenstance.

Wow. Sometimes I don't think people's fashion sense can get any worse...and then it does.

Or worse yet, people start matching one person's bad fashion and it becomes an epidemic.

This is in reference to the same boy who would have worn the suspenders. He's a bad dresser. He always has been and always will be, but what shocked me tenfold was that he hired friends to temporary fill a spot that needed filled in his career, and they dress exactly like him. I mean, they were all in flannel shirts and girls jeans with really gawdy we're-going-to-the-rodeo kind of belt buckles, and oh my god my eyes about fell out of my head. It's just...it's too much ugly. I can't even go there. (On a side note: I used to show horses so I know what those belt buckles look like and used to wear them, therefore I can pick on them without having been exempt from the same fashon faux pas, so we're cool.)

I also want to point out that I now have an arch nemesis, which much like Dr. Doofenschmirtz, I've waited my whole life to have. He's a fly. I've named him Norm, but he looks more like an Ed. He's been accosting me over the past few days and making it hard to write. I realize flies have been going in and out of this house like crazy on these summer days, so it's probably not even the same fly, but still. I have an arch nemesis. Muahaha! It just doesn't get any better than that.

And then there's this tweet which is pretty self explanatory, but not any less funny.

Dear Mr. Awful Smell, if I may call you that, that wafted into my living room, please move right on along. There's nothing to see here.

And just in case any of you at any time upon reading this blog thought I was witty, and / or funny, I wrote this tweet to prove you all wrong. I didn't mean to. It just kind of happened.

It's raining itself crazy here. Talk about a Northern Downpour. I know that was not at all funny or witty, but I live in the north, okay?

This now concludes your tour through my Twitter world. This tour may or may not have been educational, but I refuse to be responsible either way. Even still, I ask that you keep all hands and feet inside the car until it comes to a complete stop and you finish reading the rest of this blog.

And just in case you were worried, the rest of the blog, the pre-written part, I didn't forget about it. It starts now.

Oh wait, not yet, because I just want to tell you about how this blog focuses on last month's news stories from around our area, and one from the other side of the nation. Since I waited so long to post this, I can no longer find the links to the stories, so I am sorry. Okay, now the blog may begin.

There are random things that happen daily in a place such as the one where I live. All you have to do is go outside, or listen to the news and you find yourself rolling your eyes consistently by the stupidity of people, but amused all the same.

Over the past few days I’ve collected several pieces of information that I’ve heard off the news that I would really like to share. Two of these things have happened here, and one has happened across the nation and is quite endearing. Of course the one endearing thing would not have happened here. Rest assured, all the crazy is credited back to Western Pennsylvania. I’d expect no less.

First up to bat, we have a little story that I like to call “The Marijuana Hobbyist.”

A few days ago a local man and his wife were busted for growing ten different kinds of marijuana in their basement. The police had not gone into their house looking for said marijuana and were surprised to find it, giving the suspects a chance to turn themselves in.

They did turn themselves in, but not after the man held his young child in his arms and plead with the news cameras that, and I quote, “it started out as a hobby and just got out of control.”

YA THINK?

And I’m sorry, but a hobby is collecting stamps, not growing marijuana. Apparently his parents were not watching him as a child, because I thought the definition of the word hobby was pretty free and clear common knowledge.

Second to bat is Anthrocon, or, as you may know it better as, FurryCon. (They literally get their own "con." I can not get over this.) Let me all just give you a moment with that link to really take this all in.

Now, I’m sure many of you were aware of “Furries,” as they like to be called. For those of you that aren’t, let me just update you. Furries are essentially people dressed like animals with the feeling that animals can take on human traits. This is all well and good. A little creepy, but who am I to judge?

What really gets me, though, and what is often not mentioned unless you know someone who is into Furries, or you’ve just plain heard way more than you would like to know, is that Furries are, behind closed doors, often a sexual thing. This is what gets these people off.

What I find even more bizarre than that, is the fact that there’s an actual convention for it. I mean, these people who dress as animals pay to come together every single year just to enjoy dressing up as animals and role playing. I have nothing against those who do it, but I do not understand it. Most of these people are well educated and well revered people, and I’m being honest when I say that, if someone can explain this to me, I would genuinely like to understand the emotions and feelings behind becoming a Furry. I am not here to tease or judge, but I just want to “get it.”

My obsession and curiosity comes from the knowledge that Anthrocon takes place in my very own city every single year. This would not be so bad, except if you go into any of the restaurants when the convention is here, you will find people dressed as Furries. You can walk down the street and find people dressed as Furries. They do not take their animal suits off to go about their daily activities. The animal suits are not just worn at the convention, which is what really throws me off. For this reason, and again no offense is intended, I tend to avoid the city while Anthrocon is in progress.

They say we are afraid of what we don’t know. This is true, and this is also why I would like to know more about why people really dress up as Furries, and the fascination behind it, so that I will not be afraid to go into the city on these days, and I will no longer not understand it.

In a way, it’s really cute, actually. Grown people dressed as animals. It takes you back to your little kid days, except some of it is sexual, and they also do demonstrations. Let me be honest, when the newscaster said there would be demonstrations, I laughed for a good three minutes. Hard. I want to know what they demonstrate. Again, I’m not trying to be a judgmental jerk. I really want to know what kind of demonstrations they do, because the ideas that are floating through my head right now are nothing short of hilarious and slightly creepy.

One would also think that I could just attend Anthrocon and find out all of this if I really wanted to know, but I can not. There is a club, from what I understand, that you have to be part of in order to get into Anthrocon, and you also have to come dressed as a Furry. I can’t do it. Without understanding this, I can not do it, as I’m afraid I will see things that my eyes can never unsee and I really don’t have the mental capacity at the moment to do that to myself.

For all I know this is probably the cutest, most innocent thing ever, but let’s face it, grown ups dressed as animals is nothing short of a little different. Someone please explain this to me. I am genuinely intrigued and dying to know. Please?! (And yes, the double punctuation was needed.)

And last up to bat, but certainly not least, I am about to bring the cute right into this blog. So much cute, in fact, that it will last for days and days. Oddly enough, this also has to do with the second up to bat in the way that this is about animals, only it’s about real animals, not people dressed as animals.

At a bank in Seattle (at least I think that's where it is, as I can't find the story again), there is a duck who insists on flying up on the second story awning, and laying her eggs. Apparently this is the third time she has done it, so by now the employees of the bank are well read on the procedure for such incidents.

What incidents, you may ask? Well, what goes up, must come down. And babies can’t really fly for quite awhile, so therein poses the problem.

Once the little duckies are old enough to join the water, the mother duck releases herself from the awning and starts to head that way. The problem, of course the other little duckies are unable to do so with the poise and grace that she did considering she can fly and all, so they decide to take a nose dive for it. This is completely unsafe.

So by now the employees of the bank have gotten into the groove of exactly when she will lay her eggs, and when she will descend their awning, so much so that they have it written on all of their calendars. The day of the migration they are front and center, lining up below the awning to catch the little baby duckies as they fall and then nicely put them on the ground.

The nice and cute doesn’t stop there, though, oh no. They take the time to lead the momma duck and her now safe babies down to the water, and then bid her adieu as they swim off into the crisp morning air.

How is that for cute?

New Wave Of: I Will Talk to Anything

Okay, I’ve decided to do something kind of nifty and maybe not really so nifty at all on this blog. I have come to the conclusion that I like having little “sets” of things to write about. For example, the series “set” I just started yesterday, which you can check out below, called “Good Girls Go Bad.” It helps me organize my tags on my blog, and also makes my OCD happy. Hopefully, it makes the readers happy and gives you all something to look forward to, as well.

There are many they’re-so-unimportant-that-they’re-important things I’ve learned from being both sick, and as a result of that, being home for so gosh darn long. I thrive on working, but since I can’t, I’ve had to find new ways to amuse myself. Somedays I don’t feel good enough to get on my computer, think, write and socialize. Those days become the days that I learn the scariest of all things.

I will talk to anything.

And, in case this wasn’t clear enough, I do mean anything.

Before I even get into what exactly it is that I talk to, let me just say that it’s been mentioned several times that I should start a web show, or post videos strictly on my blog, if I didn’t want to humiliate myself on YouTube. Apparently what I talk to and the conversations I have are just that amusing and hilarious, and everyone seems to think I have a hit. It’s sad there’s an “everyone,” now isn’t there?

You have no idea.

So now that you’re all wondering what I talk to, I shall reveal my sad little secret. But, before I do so, please keep in mind that I know how sad it is that I talk to such things, and yes, I am really that bored. If you’d like to be my friend and keep me from talking to such things, feel free. Of course, I’m unsure of why you would want to be friends with someone who talks to inanimate objects, but hey, what do I know? In my defense, this is a fairly new thing that came about from boredom.

I talk to stuffed animals.

And not just stuffed animals. I talk to dog toys, too, as long as they’re plush.

And sometimes when I’m really bored, I will have them have conversations with each other, with body movements and everything.

Yes, that did need to be typed up in three separate sections, as opposed to one paragraph. I just really wanted to admit that and let it sink in, because once you get past how sad that actually is, it’s pretty funny. I mean, basically I’m the same as a ventriloquist or a puppeteer, only I don’t get paid, and I don’t use dummies or puppets.

Oh no, I am the new wave. I go full out fearless with stuffed animals.

And just to let you guys know how far this awesome-but-oh-so-scary-ness goes, I shall let you all be privy to some of my material.

One of my favorite things to do is to play with my dog’s toys. The way that this got started was I realized if I would take one of their toys and hide it next to me, the dogs would get all kinds of excited and give lots of kisses. I love my dogs, so this really makes my day that much brighter.

I then decided to take it to the next level, as after awhile they would get bored with a non moving dog toy and walk away. I could not have that. After all, the entire point of creatively borrowing the dog toys was to get kissies and huggles from them. Therefore, I had to come up with a new plan.

I quickly learned that if I animated the toy, the dogs suddenly got even more excited and this made things twice as fun. So basically, what started out as a way of playing with my dogs turned into full force, talking, action taking, name carrying chaos. If you knew me, this wouldn’t be all that surprising.

It started out with me playing with the toys that resembled stuffed animals, and then went straight to me playing with the long, non stuffed, slinky type plush toys. They were way more fun seeing as u could stretch them out, they could peek their heads out from behind me, and then slink back into themselves and retreat to hiding once again.

After I lost their attention with that, I would whip the whole toy, whichever it may be, out in front of their eyes, and then gently have the toy creep towards the dog until it got their attention back. After that, the toy would poke them, or laugh at them, or whatever I could come up with and put my voice to.

I never expected anyone other than the dogs to be entertained by my bored insanity, but apparently I underestimated the boredom of the people around me.

Because of this, there are now story lines that go with some of the dog toys, and I shall share one with you now. Also, have no doubt that my mom gets in on this, and she’s actually the one who started doing this with regular stuffed animals, two in particular, so as you can see, I just come from a line of bored, stuffed animal talking folk. I can’t be totally blamed for this.

The most popular story line I use is one of a poor, unsuspected yellow, green, and orange caterpillar dog toy. Since he is a dog toy, yes he, that means he’s not a real caterpillar, therefore, he’s considered to be a cattiputter. With me so far?

Don’t worry, you’re not the only one.

Now, this specific cattiputter is not just any cattiputter. No sir-re-George, he is not. He is, in fact, a spy who has come to has via Kittenschnootenbaught. (Pronounced: Kitten-shnoot-en-bought.)

The most confusing thing about all of this may just be the fact that he will not reveal to us exactly what country Kittenschnootenbaught is in, but from what we can gather from him, it’s in a place somewhere in around Russia. We also gather that his spy duties are similar to those of a Israeli Mossad.

This is a deep story line for a dog toy, I know. But trust me, you ain’t heard nothing yet.

He’s deep under cover over in the good old U.S of A, but why and for what reason, we are unsure. In his country, cattiputters are actual beings and have their own colonies, but when he came here he decided to disguise himself as a dog toy, which wasn’t hard, because as luck would have it, minus the vendor stamp, he happened to look exactly like one. Therefore, he jumped mischievously into a batch of dog toys being shipped to the U.S, we bought him, and BAM, that’s how we ended up with an undercover cattiputter from the land of Kittenschnootenbaught.

It gets worse.

In his own country, his real, birth given name is Slamishka Zombendorg. (It’s pronounced exactly how it sounds, pathetically enough.) He is living in this country as Bentley VroomVroom. (No, I could not come up with anything better.) Bentley VroomVroom is also his code name.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, it still gets even worse.

The last little piece of information that we know about dear ole Bentley, who does prefer we call him that, as we would not want to do something ala Tony Dinozzo (Or Dinardo, as was the case) and blow his cover, is that he does have his own way of transportation. When we’re not keeping an eye on him, he is scooting about the town in a mysterious vehicle known to us as only a Mutenortz.

We have yet to see or figure out what a Mutenortz is, but I guess that’s neither here nor there.

And there you have it, folks, the extent of my boredom. As you can all see, it’s dangerous when I’m not working, and I would rather be working, because goodness does it take a lot of stupid effort to come up with things such as the information above. So really, when I say I’d rather be working, you can all now understand why. I want to talk to real people, not dog toys and stuffed animals.

I think you can also understand through reading that why I am also working on a children’s series of books based on Greta Hayley’s daily adventures.

On top of that, can you all understand why I’m considering doing a web show with the dog toys and stuffed animals? I mean, obviously I’m bored, and unable to work or feel well at will. Trust me, I’ve tried. The only thing stopping me is that I’m unsure if children would find me freakishly amusing, or if they would run screaming to their parents and crying about the crazy lady who needs committed. It’s a toss up.

I have to figure, though, that if grown men can sing children songs, dress in spandex, dance with Furries, and call themselves “The Wiggles,” is it really so far fetched that a very bored twenty three year old woman could make an amusing children’s show out of a few stuffed animals and dog toys?

Oh, and before I forget to add this, here is a picture of Bentley. Now, I know he’s a bit dirty, but as I said, he’s undercover as a dog toy, and boy do they play with him. So excuse his appearance. Also, I don’t know if I’m allowed to put his picture online or if it is compromising to his investigation, so if you see any other “dog toys” that look similar to this, please don’t tell them you saw Bentley. K?

Good Girls Go Bad - The Pen Pal (Creep Central)

I have never had luck with guys. In fact, it's a miracle that I still want anything to do with men of any age, and haven't ran fleeing into the dark of night to a convent where I could become a nun and live only with other female nuns. I would say this was an exaggeration, but it's really not.

I know that I've mentioned before my disdain and issues with men, but I've never really elaborated, so today I'm going to take some time to tell you a story about one of the guys that has single-handedly taught me what epic fail meant. Over the next few months I will feature stories on and off about the guys that have been in my life. Some will make you laugh, some cry, and others just make you want to find these guys and put a loser stamp on their forehead to warn any other girls of the trouble these guys will cause. If you feel the need to do so, just e-mail me. I know where most of them live, or can find out for you and would gleefully let you know and buy you the stamp.

I'm going to call this segment the "Good Girls Go Bad" segment. The reason for this is that I feel these are guys who make nice girls take a turn at guys and ruin it for the next, possibly great guy that comes along by being idiots and treating girls like crap, or just by being tools in general. They make otherwise innocent girls get skewed views on guys, and girls start to wonder if there is anything better out there. They ruin the idea that there are good, stable, mature guys out there for girls everywhere. This is also a song, and the lyrics fit so perfectly to these stories. You can find the song here.

I will have you know that despite all of this, I do not look at all guys like they are evil tools, and do believe there is someone out there for me. When the time is right, I will find them, but I have learned to be slightly leery of men because of these guys who make "good girls go bad." Get it? Okay. Moving on.

Also, I already wrote something that would go into this segment, but this was when I first started the blog and didn't know I was going to be doing this segment. I have re-posted it below, because it found itself stuck in between a large post with several other stories, so for the sake of breaking this up into easy to read posts that revolve around boys, I have singled out that story and put it all by its little self. If you'd like to read it, like I said, it's directly below this post.

The first story comes to us via my more youthful and naive years. For the life of me I have no idea what made me remember this, as it's one of those insignificant things that feels like it happened in a whole other life, because I'm simply not the same girl who is into the same things anymore. The details are a little sketchy when it comes to when this happened, as I only have an estimate, but the details of what happened are not. I ask you all to sit back and recline in your chairs, or else you're going to want to take a flying leap at this guy.

I have horses. I have had horses for about twelve years, and when I was around the age of twelve, I decided that I wanted to make a pen pal via The Appaloosa Journal. They had this feature where kids could write in to find pen pals, and I thought that was just the bees knees at the time, so I wrote in. I thought this would be a safe way to find a pen pal who also enjoyed horses, appaloosas to be specific, so we'd have a ton in common. The reason for this being that, at the time, the only way you could subscribe to The Appaloosa Journal was to actually own an appaloosa that you had registered with The Appaloosa Horse Club, and then pay for a subscription of it from there. So what I'm saying is you had to own a registered appaloosa to even have the option of getting the journal, therefore, I wouldn't get any whackadoodle, just a kid who liked their appaloosas.

I got some awesome pen pals and we sent pictures back and fourth and had a really good time. They were all young girls around my age who were looking to write in, too, and then found me. My favorite was a girl named Tiffany, who I spoke with for several years, but lost touch with when I really got sick. I still have the pictures of her amazing horses to this day. Everything was basically good.

That was until many, many months after I posted the ad, I got a reply from a boy. Can you believe it? A boy! I was shocked that a boy replied to a girl my age, because I was just not thinking about boys at that age, but he replied. And he was older, seemed nice, and interested in being my pen pal. Forget the fact that he creepily replied many months later. He was a boy!

We began talking and he seemed nice enough, so nice that we even e-mailed and IMed, but he'd disappear for awhile. Then he'd come back. He chalked this up to going through high school and being busy, which I understood. I was home schooled through high school, but I knew friends who weren't and they, too, would get busy and disappear for a little while in being bogged down with tests and finals.

Then he graduated and took up a career in horse training. Soon after he disappeared, only to tell me later he had moved to Florida for a job offer, only to not like it and move right back to Ohio where he had come from, and it was only a state away from me. He had always said that horses were where his heart really was, and the other job in Florida as some kind of computer tech was just not for him. He had to be back in Ohio training horses like he had grown up doing. This was understandable, and although at this point I hadn't ridden in awhile, I still saw my horses regularly and loved them to death. I still do, except for the seeing them regularly. I don't have a lot of time these days with being sick and all, nor am I allowed to ride with my random passing out and what not.

But that's neither here nor there. I stayed in touch with this guy for several years. Now, I can't remember his name and neither does my mom, but we think it was Chris. If it was Chris that would just make it more perfect, because almost every single guy I've had an issue with has been named Chris, only he was the first and original loser of the pack.

This is one of those parts where we're not sure of exactly when this happened. We're guessing I had to be around seventeen to nineteen, but so much has happened since then that he has been the least of our problems, so we're not totally sure. I believe I was working at Hallmark at the time, which would have set me right around in the eighteen to nineteen range, but we just really, really can not remember.

One day in this open time period, we had made plans for him to come and visit since he only lived about an hour and a half away. He had offered to come down here without me even asking. In fact, he asked me if he could come down and I agreed. He's the one who brought it up, picked the time, picked the day, the whole deal. All I had to do was be ready for him. This was simple enough, so I got up that day, looked my best and waited for him to come. He was supposed to be here mid morning, around eleven, but eleven passed and I was still waiting...and waiting...and waiting. He never called, never showed up, and after an hour I just moved on with life, figuring that he wasn't coming, or had forgotten. It was a jerky thing to do considering he'd picked the date, time and offered to come down, but whatever. I knew even then that boys will be boys.

My mom had wanted to lay flooring in our spare room that day, so I counted my losses, pulled my hair up, changed into old ratty clothes, and helped her out. It was a hot day with no air conditioning, so I was sweating, and the makeup I would have never put on otherwise was running. No big deal, though. I didn't need to look good for anyone...and then my phone rang. I rushed to it thinking that it was Chris finally calling two hours later with some really great excuse, but it was not.

Instead, it was my Aunt on my dad's side. I've never had the best relationship with my dad's side of the family, but they were coming down this way and my other Aunt and Uncle were home from Germany with my cousins and were having dinner later nearby. I was invited. I really wanted to go because when I was little I spent a lot of time with my cousins, Michelle and Jonathon. Also, it was rare that they were actually home since my uncle was a minister to the soldiers fighting in Iraq, and although they lived in Germany for the job, he would travel through war zones and leave his family. You never knew for sure if he was coming back, but you hoped. So since it had been two hours with not so much of a word from Chris, I agreed to meet them several hours later knowing we could finish the floor and have time to clean up. Perfect plan.

That was until another good hour went by and someone pulled into our driveway. I looked out, confused, and then my mom looked out. And then a young guy started walking towards the house, so I made my mom answer the door figuring that this guy was the asshole who I was supposed to meet earlier and he never called or showed up, but was now here. I didn't want to see him. I just wanted him to leave because I was not looking good for company and I already had plans later since he couldn't even throw me a phone call.

Low and behold, it was him. And my mom, being my mom, felt bad he drove the hour and a half across state lines and let him in. I was not happy, although I understood why she did it. I still didn't want to be around him. I wasn't in the mood. I knew then that this kid was an asshole. I mean, he couldn't even call to say he'd be over three hours later, but instead just shows up? That takes a lot of arrogance and a lot of balls to do that, and the last thing I wanted to do was hang out with him, but now I was stuck.

I tried to be nice, thinking that possibly he had a good excuse, so I came out to the dining room and sat down to talk with him while my mom kind of hung around. I could tell she was leery about him, but not half as leery as I was. He tells me that he's really sorry he's late, but he slept in. He just didn't get up in time to leave. Basically what he was telling me, since he only lives an hour and a half away and he was over three hours late, was that he slept through the time he was supposed to be here, forget the time he was supposed to leave. He does not know how to set an alarm, nor did he respect me enough to try to find out, so he figured he'd just get up whenever and come visit me without so much of a phone call. Hell no, you jerk.

Then I asked him why he didn't call. He said he didn't think it mattered and he didn't want to waste his cell minutes. He figured I'd just wait around for him, basically, and that my whole day was devoted to him, whenever he decided to arrive. I was done with him right there. Even that many years ago I knew that he was being disrespectful to me and didn't give a crap about anyone but himself. But he was still there and my mom was still telling me to be nice to him, give him a chance and get through today, and then I wouldn't have to talk to him again. I sighed. I did not want to do this, nice or not. I wasn't in the mood for nice. I didn't feel like I had to be.

I tried to nicely smile and tell him that I wouldn't have that much time to hang out with him, because, since he didn't show up after two hours or call, I had made other plans later that evening. He actually had the nerve to tell me that he had driven all this way to see me, so he was a little upset about that. Oh yeah, well learn how to use a phone. If he would have, I would have never made other plans, but I had every single right to assume he wasn't coming. Therefore, I had every right to make other plans. I knew this kid was a piece of work right here and then, but what I didn't know is that I hadn't seen anything yet.

I asked him what he wanted to do in the hour or so that I had time to do something with him, as I needed to come back and get cleaned up before I went into public, but wasn't about to do it for him. He said that he wanted to go see my horses. This made sense considering this is how we met, and at the time the horses were only ten minutes away so that gave us plenty of time to go up and get back, and seemed like a safe thing to do, right? Even still, I kind of eyed my mom like God, please come with me because I know I'm old enough to do this myself, but there's something hinky about this guy and I don't want to be anywhere near him. She in turn said she was going to finish the floor and would see us in an hour. Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Mom.

We went outside, me still in my old clothes and not really caring, and he insisted on driving to the barn. It wasn't hard to get to and I could easily give him directions. Considering he was also blocking our cars in and I figured it would be a huge incident just to get him to move his car so we could get one of ours out (at least I think I had my car at the time, too, but can't remember), I got in his car and shut up.

It was the last place I wanted to be, and I realized very quickly that he didn't know left from right, and unless I pointed he had not a freaking clue what way to go. He also didn't take direction well and liked to pretend like he knew where he was going, making him even have to turn around once because he argued that I wasn't telling him where to go correctly. This guy was so obviously a first class asshole with a chip on his shoulder, and a God complex. He thought, too, because I was younger that I would apparently bow down to him. At this point I was so creeped out that I just wanted to run screaming into the hills for dear life. That convent was looking better and better with each passing moment.

While in the car, a stick shift, may I add, he tried to make useless conversation that I wasn't interested in, because I quite frankly couldn't stand the guy for obvious reasons, no matter how hard I tried. Then he did it. His hand "slipped" off of the stick shift and went right on my knee. He never moved it or apologized, and I moved it for him, telling him to keep his hands to himself and drive his damn stick shift as not to kill us. He didn't try to touch me again after that, but what a creep! I was under the understanding he was coming out here to meet me, not to hook up with me, or try to come on to me. We had never met in real life and didn't really know each other, so this took a lot of nerve.

We finally made it to the barn with all his hands in tact and my sanity slowly spiraling out of it. To my luck, this would be the day that nobody would be there, not even the owners. This was a boarding barn where people came to ride on weekends. It was the middle of the day on a Saturday. I thought this was a safe option, but no one was there. Needless to say, I was mortified. It only got worse when I realized Chris was scared to death of my horses. When I say scared to death, I mean he wouldn't even come into the stall. I have one horse that is so small she is technically a pony, and he still wouldn't come in the stall. She was standing there sleeping while I brushed her, and he stood outside tapping his foot like I was on his nerves for brushing my own horses.

Let's stop here and review, shall we? He's the one who got my name out of The Appaloosa Journal and also told me he was a horse trainer. He's the one who wanted to go see the horses. While I was there I was going to brush them, because what else was I going to do? Then, he stands outside the stall, to afraid to even come in and pet them, and taps his foot angrily while I brush them. What.the.HELL?

I knew something was up, so I brushed my horses until I was content, not wanting to get back in the car with him. I was actually hoping to annoy him badly enough that he would just end up leaving and I could call my mom on my cell phone to come and get me.. That's what I was trying to do, because now I realized that although he got my name out of The Appaloosa Journal, it had to have been a fluke. He must have gotten it off of a friend or a neighbor months later when they were done with it, thus the way late response, and then realized he could prey on someone young by telling them he was a horse trainer. Since he lived a state away, I would never know, but then his mistake came in him wanting to come see the horses. He couldn't hide that he was afraid of them.

I wasn't stupid and I knew something was seriously wrong, so I really did not want to get back in that car with him. But he didn't leave and I was forced to. On the ride home, being the short one that it was, with my cell phone in hand and cued up to call my mom if needed, I asked him about the whole thing back at the barn. He told me that he was in his good clothes and didn't want to get dirty. I called bullshit because he was wearing holy, shitty clothes, which kind of appalled me anyway because he was coming to meet me and knew that. He just really didn't care, but since we were going to see the horses I let it go, figuring that was his plan all along. When he didn't even so much as touch the horses, I couldn't let it go anymore.

I called his bullshit again and he told me he just hadn't trained in awhile. I brought up how he told me that was his main job, and he said, no, that he was a computer tech. I brought up again how he told me he was one in Florida, but had moved back to Ohio to train horses again because that was his true passion. He told me I misunderstood. If I had been at a computer I would have pulled up the emails to show him that clearly he was a liar, because I had saved them all. I just finally stopped arguing with him because you can't argue with stupid, and it was obvious I'd get no good answer out of him no matter how hard I tried.

We made it back to the house and I grumpily bid him adieu as I headed inside. He followed me...and did this knowing that the deal was he would go see the horses and then leave because I had other plans. My mom had just gotten cleaned up, so I went in to shower while he sat in the dining room and talked to my mom. My mom came in my room once to see how things went and I told her very quietly that he was nuts and I would explain later, but he's not who he told me he was. My mom kind of realized now that something was wrong, but when I came out dressed and ready to go to dinner, he somehow was coming with us. I do not know how this happened. My mom says she invited him. I don't know why she would do this. To this day I still do not, especially when she knew I was more than creeped out by him, pissed at him and she, too, agreed he was pretty creepy.

We went out and he wanted to take his car, because he said that he would leave and go home after we went out to eat. My mom had told him that the place we would be having dinner at was on the main road headed towards Ohio. This was simple enough, so we told him to just back out of our driveway and sit on the road for one hot minute so that we could get our car out and he could follow us. Instead of doing that, he pulled out, almost got stuck, and then drove the opposite way from where we were going. We couldn't figure out what he was doing, but he went and turned around somewhere and came back. I, for one, was so hoping he wouldn't have.

He followed behind us very, very slowly, making us having to keep slowing down so he kept up with us. I kept telling my mom just to drive the speed limit and let him get lost, and eventually she had to so we didn't get pulled over on the main road for driving too slowly, as we were going that slow. We pulled into the restaurant without him in site, but he came along not that much later and pulled in next to us. I, again, was disappointed. And also, folks, there is no need to drive down a flat main road at half the speed limit like he did. This kid was just a tool.

We went inside and met with my family. There were upwards of ten people there, so I did everything I could to get away from Chris, but he sat by me anyway, my cousin Jonathon on the other side of him. I simply was at the point of just being pissed off and wanting to spend nice, quiet time with my family without this jerk there. The last thing I wanted was him sitting next to me, but to my luck the only other boy there happened to be Jonathon, so Chris and Jonathon talked and he left me alone. And when he didn't, I just started up a conversation with Michelle, who was across from me, and called it a day.

Finally, dinner ended, and I say finally only because I was so incredibly uncomfortable with Chris. No matter what, I was on the edge the whole evening, and then the check came. My mom says she knows Chris paid for himself, but I remember a total other story, and knowing that my mom stands up for people when they don't deserve it, I really believe she's just telling me this so I won't hate on Chris anymore than I already do. To this day she won't admit he's a loser, but let's be honest, he obviously lied to me and I don't know what he was looking for when he came here, but it wasn't a friendship over horses, so that's just really creepy.

I distinctly remember the dinner ending and Chris then announcing as the bill came that he did not have any money. In fact, he said he barely had enough money to get home and hoped he didn't run out of gas, because if he did he would be in trouble. My mom shut up and paid for his meal, if I remember correctly. I could be wrong and maybe my mom is right and he did put it on a credit card, but I don't believe that's true. Either way, he made a big stink about it, so maybe it's just the childish stink that is stuck in my mind. I know for sure he whined about not having money and then tried to blame us saying he didn't expect he would be going out to eat, and also that he drove down here just to see me and so really he paid all that toll and gas money. He was making it out like it was our fault he didn't have money. He needed to go play in traffic as far as I was concerned.

We departed and nicely explained to Chris that all he had to do was go back the way we came and he would end up right on the turnpike. You couldn't miss it. We were going back that way so he followed us, but eventually we just drove not being able to go that slow .When I say that you end up right on the turnpike, I mean you RUN RIGHT INTO THE TURNPIKE. There is nowhere else to go. You either turn off on a back road or you go straight onto the turnpike. He got lost, which really cracks me up considering he made it here okay, having to go down a few back roads to get to my house, but he couldn't drive straight onto the turnpike going home. He called and called, but I never picked up the phone and he left messages about how he was lost and I needed to come meet him somewhere and get him on the turnpike. Mean, maybe, but I was far past done with him. I just couldn't take him anymore. I think I had every right to feel that way.

I think what really gets me about this story is that he continued to try to contact me for a year or so afterwords. He called me and left messages, e-mailed me, the whole deal. He acted like he wasn't a total ass and never lied to me or did anything wrong. To this day I still don't know what his deal really was, or who he really was. I don't know how he got The Appaloosa Journal, what he was looking for when he came here, or what he really did for a living, because obviously he hadn't been around horses in his life. Because of this, to this day, I have never replied to him and eventually the e-mails and calls stopped. The damage was already done by this time, and I had gained a great story to pass along the ages.

Good Girls Go Bad ~ The Crier (Adult Life Is Calling)

As you know from above, I have started a segment called "Good Girls Go Bad" to showcase all the guys that I've met along the way that make the good girls go bad by ruining the image that there are good guys out there for all of us. This is a repost of an earlier story to single it out for this segment. I totally redid the story and added more details. I realized I rush wrote this post initially and more things needed explained. Anyway, here it is in all its glory.

Back in September my friend Becky and we decided that, for some one's birthday, we were going to saran wrap their car or decorate their motorcycle, depending on which mode of transportation they brought to work that day. In doing this, we had decided early on that we wanted to use balloons either way. Since we had so many balloons, we decided to have them blown up somewhere. Lazy, but neither of us posses that much air. That being said, we took them to a local store where she used to work, and a guy friend of hers blew them up for us. For all intents and purposes, we shall call the guy friend BG for balloon guy, as I do not want to tarnish any one's name. (Edit: Remember that thing I said about guys named Chris in the post above this one? Let's just say this is a one in the same kind of ordeal.)

Upon leaving the store I commented that I thought BG was cute, and Becky being Becky, passed this message on. I laughed, because really, what was I going to do? That was that. I had met a cute guy. Ya me, the whole thing. Then life went on.

Around rolled December and Becky was in said local store and ran into BG, who proceeded to ask her if I was still single and if I would be interested in going out with him. He wanted her to get my permission to contact me before she gave him my number, which was really sweet and mature. At the time all of this happened, I was 23 and he was 18, but he assured her repeatedly that he was a mature 18. She had worked with him, and when she had they were good friends, so she knew him well and thought we'd both really like each other. She also had a lot of respect for this guy and just thought he was nice, sweet, mature, and all over a good guy. She contacted me, I said yes, I would be interested in him contacting me, and this put me in contact with him.

Fast forward about a weeks worth of texts and we decided to go on our first date. It didn't start out as a date, but it somehow turned into it. First we were just going to see a movie, he decided next to pick me up, then he was paying for it, and it somehow turned into a date. We went to see Twilight that night and it worked out. He was charming, sweet, I was comfortable with him, and he was cute to boot. It was like a Taylor Swift song. I was happy, he was happy, we both thought we had something.

Friday rolls around and we hung out and baked penis cookies with Becky and Patrick, a mutual friend between she and I. They were for a bachelorette party, so don't get any hinky ideas, kids. From there, everything seemed fine aside from the fact that BG was obviously tired and the last thing he wanted to do was be making cookies. He whined a lot because he was tired and was extremely unhelpful. I was not feeling well that day and sat down for a few minutes in between baking cookies. He sat down almost the whole time, and when Becky said something to him, he told her he was sitting down because I was. Becky was quick to defend me by snapping back and telling him that I was sick and he was just not participating and playing with his IPhone which was "his baby" the whole time. He was also late, way later than Patrick who was also helpful and stayed after BG to help clean up, and when I say clean, I mean he cleaned EVERYTHING WELL. Becky and I didn't even have time to think about cleaning because Patrick had it done.

Anyway, back to BG. We had also warned him ahead of time that Becky had a dog. He said this was fine, and then when he got there was scared to death of the dog and we had to lock him in a room. Had we known this, we wouldn't have invited BG because that wasn't fair to the dog. BG also made inappropriate comments, and I am all for that, but his went way, way too far.

He didn't seem so bad until after he left and it was just Patrick, Becky and me. We started talking and realized that, yeah, he was pretty much a pain in the ass, and if he was that tired, he should have stayed at home. Grating on other people's nerves because you're tired is not cool. No one would have been mad if he would have said hey, I work two jobs, go to school, and volunteer as a firefighter. I'm tired and can't come, but he didn't. He came anyway and was a pain. Then, compared to Patrick, he seemed like a real ass. Regardless, before he left I had made another date with him for the following night.

Everyone has their bad days and it wasn't that big of a deal, right? We were actually fine with him until he left and it set in how much more peaceful it was without him. Because Becky had known him for three years prior to the current time, and I had a great time with him on the date, we figured it a fluke. This was no reason to not give him a second chance, although it should have been a red flag for both me and Becky, as she figured, too, that it was a fluke.

Saturday pops up on us, date night, and I texted him to see what time he wanted to go out exactly and what we were doing, because he had not contacted me as of yet, and I like to know what I'm doing. I could tell immediately that something was up with him. After several hours of being ignored by him after he was already cranky towards me, he ends up telling me that he's cancelling our date, but gives no explanation and just stops talking to me. I thought, well, okay, I can take a hint. He doesn't want to date me anymore. I have no idea what I did, but it's for the better.

I told Becky what happened and she was seriously upset about the whole thing, as she couldn't see BG doing something like this and neither could I. She felt responsible for introducing us, and it just didn't seem like him to do something such as this, so even though that pretty much ended things right there, we still tried to nicely give him the benefit of the doubt that he was a decent human being. In all fairness, had he given me some sort of explanation instead of just canceling, or at least apologized, I would have given him another chance and probably stupidly, too, but since he did neither and I was both shocked and appalled by this, I figured it was best to not even venture further into this relationship. Nothing lost, nothing gained. I've been in too many relationships, even with just friends, where the guy either didn't care, or was communication insufficient, and I wasn't doing it again.

Fast forward to Monday. I end up getting a text from BG. He NOW decides to apologize for canceling the date Saturday. Too bad he didn't actually apologize when he did so, but was rude about it instead. I didn't really expect to hear from him again to be honest, figuring that he decided he didn't want to date me again and was too afraid to tell me, and I would never know why. He was somewhat timid and seemed like he could be that type, and it was also a sign of immaturity, which would have fit his just out of high school age. Apparently this was not the case. Since he did take the time to apologize late, better late than never, I thought about it, and with Becky being with me when the text came through, we talked amongst ourselves and both agreed something terrible probably happened to him. We are stupid and give people too much benefit of the doubt. I hate us.

I asked him if he was okay, hoping he would explain to me what happened, or at least attempt some explanation. If something horrible did happen, then I was a bitch for not giving him another chance and not understanding. What he told me next knocked not only my socks off, but sent me into infinite laughter. This is a story I will tell my grandchildren.

He proceeds to tell me that he's fine, however Saturday was horrible, and then explains. Wait for it. The epic thing that happened was this:

A co-worker texted him and called him an asshole. Now mind, BG works in an office away from everyone he works with and doesn't have to deal with them at all at any point in time while he is there. He had just gotten a promotion into this position too. Not to be insensitive, but it was also just a text. Delete it and move on with your life. You don't have to ever deal with the person, or them with you. No big deal, be the bigger person. It's not like the co-worker said this to BG's face, and even if he had, he is big and old enough to walk away. Becky and I both figured there had to be more to this story, and oh there was, but it was far from what we expected.

From there he proceeded to text me and tell me that directly after his co-worker did this he cried, left the office, found his boss and quit his job. He also decided that, because he worked eight hours a week at a pizza place, that he just wasn't going to get another job because he just couldn't handle the stress. If he was going to be made fun of at work or called names, he just wasn't going to work. Umm.....news flash. Adult life is calling and it is a bitch.

We.laughed.hard. We fell to the ground in the middle of a parking lot and laughed. We laughed our asses off in the middle of Red Robin. We laughed when we split up and got into our cars to go home. I've never laughed so hard in my life and will never forget this day as long as I live.

Maybe this makes us two major bitches, but at the same time, he is eighteen and this is the real world. Apparently he can not survive in it. You're always going to have someone who isn't going to like you, but if you hold your head high, ignore it, and continue on, the joke will be on them. I have never cared what anyone has thought of me unless I really hold the person dear and feel like I've offended them by something stupid that shot out of my mouth. I could not be with someone who couldn't even deal with someone calling them a name through a text, and quitting their job. If I had the memory to keep these texts in my phone, believe me, I would have and I would have posted a screenshot of them on here minus the number, because they are that funny. You have to see them to believe them.

That being said, I really do think the guy is a nice, great guy, but I think he has a lot of growing up to do. There's some eighteen year olds that are more mature than me. It's human nature, but he is certainly not one of them. As one of my unidentified friends pointed out, when she heard the story, she felt like I was telling her about a thirteen year old girl. He was still in high school mode, which I guess is natural being that he was only in his first year of college. I do wish him the best, though, and hope that he learns from this and finds himself a great girl, everything he wants in life, and is happy. That girls is just not going to be me.

Boys...They Need A Map to Everything

Greetings from my side of the world, where flies are seriously annoying, and Greta is trying to abolish their whole colony they got going on in my living room. She is my hero. I would have been here much sooner to write about today, except I got sidetracked with trying to find the Selena Gomez video for "Magic" on YouTube because, in case I haven't mentioned it, I adore her. She can do no wrong. She is cute and adorable, and such an awesome little Disney star. You can't tell me otherwise. I will simply not believe you, and then sit for hours just plugging my ears and going "la, la, la," so don't waste your breath. I can have selective hearing when necessary.

I decided since the last post was all about life, things I've learned, and heartbreak, that this post should be a lot more fun and more upbeat. I knew I wanted to write tonight, but I had no idea about what. That was until I started talking to my friend who I will call SN. No, her name is not SN, but her SN's initials are coincidentally SN, so I shall call her that.

Anyway, we were having a conversation, one that got way off topic and so far out of hand that I decided I had to blog it. It was like a live, real time blog taking place right in front of my very eyes as we typed wittily, so I decided to march on with it. I also remembered a few other events with other people, that have occurred in the last forty eight hours, so I think I shall share them all in order of which they happened, not order of which is funnier, or more important. And by important I also mean funnier, so really I'm just repeating myself now.

Yesterday I had my eleven day check up for my nose. It is healing fine and there are no problems with it, so we're hoping that it will heal perfectly and he won't have to "do anymore work on it." Whatever that means. I don't want to know, but that's not where I'm going with this. I know I've explained the staff at my nose doctor's office before, but this time we went to a different office. I have to inform you that the staff there may actually be more pigheaded than the staff at the other office, but not dumber. They are smart enough to lie to us, badly, but they try none the less.

On this particular day, I got into the office for my 1:15 appointment early, but not so freakishly early that I was going to impose on anyone else. When I got there the office was jam packed, so I signed in, but while doing so I noticed that there were two people that were ahead of me on the sign in sheet and not yet crossed off, that had appointments far after mine. We sat in the office and waited and waited until it was just us and another person left. Obviously the girls were taking people in order of how they came, not appointment time.

Now, I understand it's cool to be early, and I also understand if you take someone with an appointment time after another person's if said person with the earlier time does not show up, or is late and the doctor is left to twittle his thumbs in boredom, but that was not the case. I was early for my appointment, I just wasn't a half an hour early. They should have taken me, but did not, which caused my mom to go and try to talk to the girl about it. Even though the sign in sheet was sitting right in front of my mom and she could have easily picked it up and shoved it in the girl who works there's face, the girl still claimed that she was not taking people ahead of us and all the other people that went in before us had 1:15 appointments. Yes, because they totally scheduled a shit load of people at the same time. My mom realized it wasn't even worth arguing with the mortally stupid and moved right along.

That, however, is not the point of what I'm trying to write. While we were in the waiting room, my mom had got out an ancient People magazine and was mindlessly flipping through it. She came across a page where she didn't know who most of the "celebrities" were on that were strewn across it. My explanation went something like this. "She's a whore, whore, whore, some girl from making the band but she's still a whore, she's cute, whore, whore, no idea, she's cute, too...and we're back to the first whore again." I don't know what the people sitting beside me thought, but I did include the names of the people while flipping through them and calling them a whore, so I don't really care. The girls were half dressed, at best, and that's what they looked like. That is not my fault. I call them like I see them, folks, and the way I see it, I am personally a fan of clothes. If you're not wearing any in a picture where you knew the media would be present, that doesn't get you the best label on my shit list which means nothing else to anyone in the world but me, so don't feel insulted.

Also, while sitting there my mom came across a picture of Robert Pattinson. Even though she is my mom and she is in her fifties, she knew who he was immediately. She also likes Twilight, but the fact that she could easily pick him out shocked me in a way. Anyway, she brought up something that I don't know if I've ever posted on here or not, but my mom and I have actually talked about. Robert makes the perfect vampire. I personally don't see anything mind numbingly, panty dropping gorgeous about him, but he looks vampireish. I don't know what it is. It's not like he has pointy teeth or blood stains on his clothes ever. He just looks like a vampire, a little evil, a little mysterious, and a little dare devil like. On top of that, his facial features make him look very debonair, like he's from the early 1900's, therefore he's pretty damn perfect for the part. What a coincidence. Casting a person who looks exactly like a 19th century vampire to play one in the movies. It's like he was born for this role. Really, the man upstairs must have been like oh, in twenty some years there will be a movie called Twilight where this guy will play a 19th century vampire. Ta da! Created. My job is done. *Goes for nap*

Random side note, because that's how I roll. This post deserves a mom tag, so this will be the beginning of a mom tag, however, I've had an Aunt Bev one for quite awhile. Beyond that, I also have most of the review for New Moon written up, but I realize I can't post it without getting lynch mobbed. Being as I'm not totally against someone yelling at me, because I am who I am and don't give a duck, I may post it anyway. I still like to be liked, so I'll have to think it over. I don't want hatred pre novel release, or post, really.

I also want to mention that at the local fire hall on the way home from the doctor's, they have the funniest sign I've ever seen. I can not make heads or tails out of what the hell they're talking about and I originally saw this sign a good week ago, and I'm still wondering. I will share it with all of you. It says this exactly unless otherwise marked.

Annual Family Picnic 8-8-0G
Biddle Fairgrounds (Or park. It may have said park, but either way we'll address this in a hot second.)
Ootie says it's on.

First of all, I didn't know there was a date such as 8-8-0G, but now that I know, I will spread this information everywhere that I can and smirk each time I do it. I know that the sign has since been changed to say the proper date, but it's still funny. Second, I have no idea where there's a Biddle park or fairgrounds anywhere, so I'm taking it that it's actually someone's farm where there's room to run, because this whole sign seems to have a sense of humor, and the "family picnic" is only for the people at the fire hall and their families. They would understand this. Third, who or what is Ootie, and why do they say it's on? And what is it anyway? I'm left to assume that Ootie is a person since it can talk, but I'm still left to wonder who would name their kid Ootie, if it's a nickname, and what is on? I'm also left to wonder if his name is Ootie Biddle and the whole function just takes place at his farm in which he likes to refer to as a park or fairgrounds. Do you see how funny this is?

Let me just add that when you google Ootie, it comes up in the urban dictionary with the meaning of this. "New age pet word used when showing affection to one's significant other." (Well, technically it says "too," but I like to bring you the most proper grammar that one can, when I can. I know I slip up sometimes.) So are we now saying that a pet word of affection is saying it is on? Because if we are, this doesn't explain how an affection can talk, or what it is. I really want to know what it is.

I've also learned that Ootie is the name of a random German guy on Facebook, as well as some DJ who likes to put lots of money signs around his DJ name. This was all the further I could scroll without my brain exploding. I also googled Ootie Biddle, but got things that came up either Ootie or Biddle, but no hits for the combination. I would rule out his name being Ootie Biddle, but who's to say he even uses the net? With a name like that, I somehow picture an old guy who has no computer smarts and thinks the mouse would like cheese. I could be very wrong, though. It's happened before.

I would start on what I came up with for google searches on Biddle Park and / or fairgrounds, but we'd be picking up the brain matter of my exploding head for weeks. Also, I'd be dead, so I'm not even going to go there. I like being alive. It suits me well.

Later in the day I headed to Aunt Bev's house to help her finish setting up her Mac. I could get into this whole thing, but I will just say a few short words and move on. First, her husband...ooh he makes me want to tell him off sometimes. I went through and password protected all actions on her computer to keep him from deviously doing what he wants on there since he essentially wrecked her last computer. He then tells her he changed his password for his account on her computer. I knew this couldn't be true because I password locked everything with a password he didn't have so that he couldn't do so. He couldn't. The password is still the one I made him. He lied, but why? Why? Just why? I can't obviously wrap my head around this.

I showed Aunt Bev how to use iTunes, which meant putting some videos in her computer of our pets that she loves and adores. We watched them all after they uploaded. Aunt Bev likes my videos. This makes me all kinds of happy. I also think I may have gotten her into The Young Veins. See, she's super cool, kids. You should bow down to her coolness.

I also wanted to share some texts with you that came from the belly of 2:30 am last night when Becky couldn't sleep. I realize now that I go to grab my phone off of the coffee table that it is in my purse and I will have to go get it, so I will be right back. There will be a lovely time elapsement for my readers, as you will never know I'm gone, but you won't be forced to deal with the actual event of such. I shall just pick on up with the story on the next paragraph.

Let me just throw you the texts before I really explain my mind warp on this.

Becky: IDK if you're still up, but I figured I'd pass this along for lols. This book I read earlier today had 2 side characters named Jack and Sally, who eventually hooked up. All I could think of the whole time was The Nightmare Before Christmas and FOB singing "we can live like Jack and Sally."

(No, I do not edit for content. I also believe that the song we're thinking of is actually "I Miss You" by Blink 182, and Fall Out Boy did a cover of it, as neither of us can think of the song, but know the lyrics and know they came out of Patrick Stump at one time.)

Me: Wow. That's exactly what I thought of, too, when I read that. Totally the wrong names to use. Lol!

(Great minds think alike. What can I say? Okay, maybe disturbingly cool people with the same musical tastes think alike.)

Becky: I know! However, in her defense, she's British...although it should've transferred over there.

Me: Yeah, I mean that movie was major. Maybe she's a fan?

Becky: If so, then it's just funny.

Me: It kinda is, and in which case all I can imagine are claymations falling in love.

Becky: Lmao!

Me: I'm so tired that I'm imagining claymations skipping.

Becky: Lmao, uh oh! If it makes you feel any better, I WAS sleeping till my stomach threw a fit at me.

Me: Aww, no. That makes me feel sad that your stomach woke you, cause that's a sucky feeling. *Awkwardly hugs your stomach*

Becky. Lmao...er thanks...I think.

Me: Lmao! WELCOME!

I don't even know what's worse in this conversation, because there's so many things to pick from. For example, the fact that we went from talking about The Nightmare Before Christmas, to realizing we weren't really talking about that, but Fall Out Boy instead, then back to the movie, then to claymations, then to bodily issues, followed by awkward hugging and exciting welcoming sentiments towards a very scared response. There's just so much wrong with these few minutes of texting, and the topper on the cake is that these are totally normal conversations in my life. I thought nothing of it until today came along and I could not get the imagery of two claymations holding hands and skipping along in a field of claymation yellow flowers. That's when I knew this was a monumental conversation that must be shared.

And while these images were running through my head all day today and I didn't think things could get worse, and by worse I mean weirder, funnier and just plain more ADHD in general, SN and I started talking and proved that clearly I was wrong. I shall share some of the more important and pungent points of our conversation for your enjoyment. Please know that I can not be held responsible for scaring you or making you run far away from this post. You choose to read the rest of this blog at your own free will. It is not sexually explicit or any other R rated thing, it's just...well...you decide.

Also, I would like you all to know that both SN and I have compared my random ADHDness to the likes of Brendon Urie, so take that for what it is. She's not the first one to compare me, won't be the last. If he scares you, stop reading now. Just saying...we're two people with bad ADHD and at times it gets ugly.

The conversation started off normal enough. We were talking about wrought iron angel wings and tattoos. These two things do all go together in our world, but that soon led to this. While talking about getting tattooed, SN pointed something out to me and the conversation expanded rapidly until we had no control over where it was going.

SN: Now I just need my big girl panties.

(In reference to her being afraid to get a tattoo because of a feisty hatred for needles.)

Me: Mine finally came back to me, I think. I would share them with you but I'm concerned that, considering where they go, that might borderline just ever so softly on creepy.

(If you all remember, a few posts back I talked about losing my big girl panties, and a talk my friend had with me concerning that.)

SN: Yeah, just a little creepy. I'm sure they're nice, but I really don't want that.

Me: And I would help you find yours, but that just crosses a whole lot of unchartered, fumbling in the dark sounding territory that won't go over well, even if it is totally innocent and it's not an after sex thing.

(Don't tell me that doesn't sound dirty. If you can do it with a straight face I'll give you six bucks and a mint, as well as some Pixie Sticks that you surely need to help you have a sense of dirty humor, but I know you can't.)

SN: Exactly!

Me: So I have to tell you, I'm sorry that you lost your big girl panties, but I do hope you find them since really there is nothing society will let me do without making a big ordeal out of it, big enough that I'll have to blog about it, then everyone will know.

(Being polite is always the key. My mom taught me right.)

SN: LOL!

Me: I should probably blog this. No one would be surprised, lol!

SN: Probably, and I wouldn't be either.

Me: LMAO, damn! You're used to me already. Must devise new level of crazy.

(I really must. Rare is it that people get used to me.)

SN: HAHA! I love our conversations.

Me: I do, too. We're just like a live, real time action blog. It's kind of fantastic.

SN: It is.

From here we went into a conversation about how I had randomly exciting news that may be only mildly exciting , and how I'm happy I remembered it in the morning. We also talked about how we're crazy, but pretty girls always are so it works out, and then got into a song having to do with this, but I'll refrain from getting into that.

From there we had a conversation about YouTube and how it's slow at loading videos. This was, no pun intended, a loaded conversation that went wayward fast.

SN: Why does YouTube take so long to upload?

Me: I don't know. It's those gnomes that live inside of it. Sometimes they take naps during their shifts and the other gnomes that aren't napping and work there are at home, so they don't know and wake them. And the gnomes that are there and do know, don't tell on them or wake them because they want to take a nap later and expect the same courtesy.

Enough said.

Then came FlyGate 09. Easily explained, I had a fly that wouldn't stop flying around me, landing on me, landing on my screen, and in general making me think he was trying to rape me. I had had it. I wanted him to go far, far away to land where people liked flies and flies hated people, so people would be trying to catch him so that they could love up a fly as much as one can, and he'd be in hell trying to run away from it.

Me: At least he'll be dead in two days, so what's the worst that can happen, right?

(Cut out some unnecessary confusing content from another convo.)

SN: Buzz in your ear and wake you up? I hate that fly.

Me: Me too. I hope it meets an early termination. And I know that sounds really mean, but damn, there's like 6 billion other people on the planet he could borrow, times that by like three and you have the amount of computer screens he could land on, and he picks mine. Now it's bugging Greta. I draw the line at bugging my dog.

SN: Aww! What're you going to do?

Me: I dont know. Greta, I think, ate it. She snapped at it and it left, so I don't know if she got it or not. She wasn't chewing, but he's gone for now.

Look, folks, whatever went on between Greta and that fly is their business. I'll just have you know that the fly is now gone and has not come back. It's been more than an hour, so knock on wood it's stupid ass stays gone and Greta is my hero. Period. My dog...she so needs a cape. She could be SD, which would equate to Super Dog, or SCC, which is Super Chow Chow. Or she could come up with her own name in which I will sew on the cape that I won't make her wear until the weather cools off, because she's hot enough already. I really don't care, as long as she gets a Super cape.

We then got into talking about the novel I'm writing. I am a visual writer. I talk about my chapters like they were scenes in a movie, and if I can not visualize it, I can not write it. I have to find pictures of people who look like the character I have in my head does and save them just for a reference. I have to make things come to life. At one time my mom and I had talked about the whole what if my book becomes a movie. Okay, more than once, and I had thought this out and chose who I wanted to play my characters just because I could do it and it was fun to do. It also fed my visual curiosity. So while talking to SN today we came across this same convo, in which I expressed my adoration for Selena Gomez, and how she can pull off characters that are inappropriately witty and lovable all at the same time. Therefore, she had to be my girl lead even though now she is seven years too young. The following ensued.

Me: If my book would become a movie she would have to play girl lead. I would wait until she was old enough, but she'd have to play her.

SN: Wow. That's pretty awesome.

Me: And Brendon (Urie, Panic! At the Disco, and he'd have to cut his hair to look more like this. I just grabbed the most recent picture I could.) would have to be my male lead. I'm fairly sure that kid lives under the fountain of youth anyway, so they should look about the same age when she's 23. Or even like 20...she could pull it off at 20. And I'd even tone down the character a little for her because she's just that cute and that perfect for the part.

Look, kiddos, I know that the chances of my book being published are far better than the chances of it being made into a movie, but it is fun to dream and I am allowed. Besides, Selena and Brendon would be cute together in a movie, assuming Brendon can act. I'm sure they will look the same age in seven years for some unforeseen reason, and besides that, Selena was already in a movie with a guy twice her age, and they even kissed and no one ever knew. So see, it could work.

This is in around the time that we had a conversation about a certain celebrity whose neice looked like his love child, and how we swear he had this kid really young and then said he was a virgin to cover it up. I will not even mention the celebrity and go into the insanity of this, but if you see the kid, and then his siblings, it makes no sense for this kid to belong to anyone but him. He's the only one she looks like.

Last but not least we discussed an Anime show to which SN had made a small movie about on YouTube. I've never really watched anime, so all I knew about it was what I learned from the video. This was obviousy bad but funny, and slightly inappropriate.

Me: Dude, when people die in that anime show, they just turn into bubbles and fly away. That has to save on funeral costs.

That convo later turned into this one. I'm pretty sure we are now talking about a different Anime show, but I can't be sure.

SN: I love the warning labels people come up with for one of my favorite series.

(She sent me a link, and in this link it talked about how they should not warn about violence because, although the girl stabs people in the series, no one bleeds. This is perplexing to me. Obviously.)

Me: NOBODY EVEN BLEEDS! AHAHA, BUT DO THEY DIE? That's what I wanna know. Do they die?

SN: Actually, they don't.

Me: WOW! Holy shit! They dont bleed or die! ! wanna live there!

SN: And they don't have to grow up until they wanna leave.

Me: It's like Peter Pan in anime.

SN: Only where everyone has mental/sexual issues. And princes are evil. Well, not really evil,
but named after the morning star.

Me: I am so confused, lol!

SN: Watching doesn't help. I've seen it 3+ times and still have questions, but clearly that's normal. But it's a great show. Just confusing, with lots and lots of symbolism and things that don't make sense but will later. Maybe.

Me: Wow, I so feel the need to watch this show. It sounds like its right up my ally.

The sad thing is, there was no sarcasm there. Even though I'm not an Anime fan, I have to see this. I just do. I really, really do.

These are the days, people. I love my life and my friends are amazing. I am also loving myself this song right now, although it's stuck in my head and I can't bang it out. I'm not complaining, though. If you thought you've heard this song before, you would be correct and the original can become your friend here.