It's Awfully Pretty Inside My Fairy Tale Castle of Snow

Yes, I ran away without really going anywhere. I admit this. I suck. I admit this, too. I also admit that I found this website fun, although it is intended to keep idiots busy. I understand this makes me an idiot and I am okay with that, because I enjoyed chasing the button, although I knew each time I pressed it, it would become harder to catch, therefore it would eventually become impossible to press the button at all. This is probably because I’ve long accepted that inanimate objects are smarter than me.

Although I realize my running away may have seemed unnecessary, others had reasoned their theories on why I disappeared, and decided to share them with me. They are, but not limited to, as follows.

1. I was still mediating that conversation between my friend and my mom about Matthew Gray Gubler’s hair. Let me explain.

On January 16th I posted this on my Twitter, and I quote exactly.

“Currently mediating a convo about Matthew Gray Gubler’s hair between my mom and my friend.”

Then I didn’t update after that. I actually had someone @reply me asking if the reason I hadn’t updated my Twitter lately was because I was still mediating that conversation. My response as of twenty hours ago was as follows, and again I exact quote.

“I know you’re all still wondering. Is she still moderating a convo about MGG’s hair? The answer is yes and no.”

But really guys, my mom and my friend had this odd little conversation about whether he was sexier with short hair, or long hair. Okay, so it technically started when I mentioned my friend thought he was hot, and my mom asked me to ask her if she liked him with long hair or short hair. I asked her through text, she answered, my mom disagreed, I told my friend and she rebuked. Viola, mediation occurred. I have an opinion, but am remaining Sweden, so you guys decide if you like it better long or short, and if you leave it in the comments, I’ll let my mom and friend know.

And no, that friend is not Aunt Bev, which leads me to possible reason 2 of why I haven’t been around.

2. Did your mom and Aunt Bev manage to do something so average that it somehow turned into a debacle and now there are problems in which may or may not involve jail time for those involved?

No, seriously, this was brought up to me. The answer is no. They are still them, but no one has ended up in jail.

Yet.

3. Have to somehow managed to kill yourself off with your talents of klutziness and unparalleled bad balance?

No, no I have not, but my question back to them is as follows. If I had killed myself, did you really think I would get back to you? Their answers? Yep. I love my friends.

4. I just figured you fell down a rabbit hole.

No really, my friend said this to me. It wasn’t even an Alice in Wonderland reference. I am just talented enough that I could somehow fall down and either die, or disappear into a rabbit hole and no one would find it weird, apparently.

5. I just figured you got lost in the snow.

We did have a solid two and a half feet of snow for weeks on end, but I chose not to go out in it. It’s understandable that I could have gotten lost in snow that, if walked in, only Jared Padalecki would look normal human size in, but I refrained. I’m glad my friends have faith in me.

In reality though, you guys, I am not as big of a loser as I’m letting on, but only in this case. My grandma died. For real. She passed away last month and it turned into this huge debacle in which we learned things about her we never wanted to know and left us all more confused than ever. In all of this, not only have I not updated, but I’ve learned only one thing.

I sincerely let my neighbor with the big knockers down when I promised her at the ripe old age of fourteen that I would trick or treat until I was thirty, and come and sing Christmas carols to her every year until she died. I am so sorry for failing you, Big Knockers Lady. Also, if you could please let someone in the neighborhood know your real name, we’d all love it. We really do refer to you as Big Boobs Lady, simply because no one seems to know your name. Unless that is your name. In which case, you’re good.

I also learned that I am talented enough to do one thing that no one mentioned. I can hurt myself without doing anything at all. I currently feel totally useless and hauled up on the couch with awesome ice packs all day. I won’t tell anyone I’m trying to put my room back together after a water leakage incident due to snow, if you won’t. Shh! If you don’t, I promise to leave you with words of advice for free. Oh, who am I kidding? I was going to do that anyway.

1. Up is a deceivingly sad movie about death and the loss of a life partner. You will need tissues for this movie, and preferably should buy a brightly colored box to hug while you watch the movie, in hopes that it will cheer you up somehow. It won’t. Even if there is a dog in the movie named Dug that will haphazardly stop mid sentence and yell SQUIRREL, it still won’t.

2. It’s not just the sellers that suck at Craigslist, as the website suggests. Buyers suck pretty hard too. Let me tell you a story.

My mom decided to sell her bedroom furniture on Craigslist. We did not have pictures yet, so naturally we received emails for pictures. We promptly took pictures of the furniture and posted them on Craigslist, and then joyously let everyone know pictures had been added. They were all on their way down the Yellow Brick Road to finding their perfect furniture, except for one particular woman who insisted there were no pictures. I checked the ad again, but they were clearly there. Other people had emailed me in the meantime expressing their liking for the furniture and their want to come see it based on the pictures. I went back and re-updated the page, just to be on the safe side, only to realize she never went back and looked at the ad after I emailed her and told her I had put pictures up. I emailed her back nicely and told her that the pictures were now there and any errors had been fixed. I didn’t want to make her feel stupid, which in turn, just proved that I was really the stupid one here.

She later emailed me back not once, but twice, apparently because I didn’t answer her first email within ten minutes of her sending it. I felt really bad about this considering I wasn’t near my computer at all when she sent either email, and my magical computer gnomes were on strike for lapse of a paycheck. The first email contained a copy of the Craigslist ad, minus the pictures. This was apparently proof there were no pictures on the ad. The only thing that this proved was that she may have been too lazy to add the pictures to the email. In that same email, coincidentally enough, she also happened to ad the link to my ad telling me to look at that link, because that was the exact page she was on when she copied and pasted my own ad into that email. I clicked the link. The pictures were there. Then came the second email which went exactly like this:

"I looked on Craigslist to find your listing and emailed it to you. It says that the listing has a pic, (photo) but there are no photos when you click on the listing. Could you just email them directly? Your email to me lists attachments, but there are none. Maybe you have to check your email and confirm changes to your listing."

This is an exact copy and paste. Names have been left out to protect the not so innocent; those guilty of needing a little chlorine in their gene pool, if you will. Let me notate the particular gems of this email, in case you haven’t noticed them yourself.

*It’s obvious that I must not know what a pic is, because she had to tell me that a pic was a photo. I would like to share with her that she used incorrect punctuation and sentence form when doing so.

*When I click on the link she sent me, I get pictures, so obviously we are not looking at the same ad, even though we are.

*I never sent her any attachments, and also kept copies of all the emails I sent her. They did not list attachments either, at least not my end. This tells me she’s a little more than slightly confused about how to use a computer.

*She passive aggressively decides to tell me that it’s obvious the problem lies in me, even though she’s the only one who can’t see the pictures. Hmm.

*No matter what I did, she obviously couldn’t correctly identify if there was an attachment attached to her email, so it wasn’t worth my time to email her pictures.

I nicely emailed her back and told her our furniture was not for her, being as she was the only one not seeing the pictures. I was kind, but returned her passive aggressive manner, and then promptly decided not to communicate with her any longer. Oddly enough, we got an email an hour later from a woman who fell in love with the furniture because of the pictures. She came out to see the furniture the next day and took it on the spot at full asking price. Take that, “There Are No Pictures,” lady. Take that.

3. Never, ever under any circumstances tune out when your mom and your friend are discussing your friend’s potential purchase of a home. You might just tune back in in time to hear your friend go, “I MAY NEVER GO OUTSIDE!,” and have no idea what they’re talking about.

4. If you’re ever unsure about a book you’re reading, pulling up reviews online for further insight may only confuse you more. I shall elaborate.

I am currently reading a fictional book that pertains to the subject of spiritual warfare, and intertwines with talking about Him. The book was so different and unusual that I decided I wanted to see what others thought about it, because I honestly had no idea what to think of it. For once in my life, I was speechless. I ended up coming across a review on a blog from a woman who was quite angry at the author of the book for portraying spiritual warfare as violent, and then went on to rant how this went completely against the Bible’s rendering of spiritual warfare. I don’t know what Bible she’s reading, but I think it left out Revelations. Either that, or she thought it was called spiritual warfare just because someone got a kick out of calling it that, and all those violent and unpleasant terms used in the Bible referring to it were really just code words to scare people, when really they meant sunshine and lollipops, as well as unicorns farting rainbows. When I finish the book and make a decision on how I feel about it, I will then share what I’m reading with you all. It’s just one of those books.

5. If you are a millionaire who decides to put himself on The Millionaire Matchmaker, and you wear shirts two sizes too big, pants that are also two sizes too big and aren’t meant to be capris, but come nowhere near your ankles, and Ed Hardy shoes that resemble a woman’s Mary Jane’s, don’t brag about what a hot bod you have, and then expect to not be made over. Seriously. Just don’t. And don’t give the lady you're paying to help you attitude.

6. Even though the NuvaRing commercial says “hormonal vaginal ring,” this does not mean that the vaginal ring is hormonal and will suddenly start a fight with your no no place about the lack of light it sees when in use.

7. Aunt Bev buys the best presents ever. As proof I will provide the below ill centered picture so that you can see what the present she bought me allowed me to be able to make. The pictures inside the frame, I totally made those thanks to her.


8. The guys on Supernatural really are that hot. In case you’ve forgotten, we have this example and this one.

9. I do not have the maturity level necessary to watch the Olympics. Every time someone correctly pronounces the name of an athlete from another country, I find a way to realize just how dirty it sounds.

10. Criminal Minds is a really good show. When you finally catch up on all five seasons, you suddenly have complete Criminal Minds withdrawal. It sucks.

That’s all I have for today, folks. I will leave you with something I wrote for my Grandma the day she passed and had intended on posting. Since then I have found out many things about her that have made me question everything I knew about her, but I have decided to post this anyway in hopes that someone can relate to the truth you feel just hours after learning someone has passed.

Oh, and btw, I know this layout is ugly. I'm working on it.

Someone else’s tragedy is always far more romantic than your own. That’s a lesson the movies won’t teach you and that you have to learn on your own. Too bad I already knew that.

My gram passed away this morning. I made the phone calls. No matter how many times I explained whose granddaughter I was, and then followed those words with “she passed away,” it still doesn’t seem real. I’m in total shock, but the funny thing about shock is that your body begins to respond to the stupidest things. Instead of crying, I find myself frustrated every time someone goes “but I just talked to her the other day.” And there wasn’t one person who didn’t announce this to me. In a moment, anything can change.

She was a wonderful grandmother, and I spent my childhood looking up to her, playing with her, and she always chased me around the kitchen island. I will always remember that. She gave me the gift of amazing memories, and warm love. Even though she’s gone, those things will never fade.

She was a mother to others, and even those who didn’t have a mother of their own. She took in everyone and was a great friend. Or, like my great aunt told me, “she was like my sister.” I like to think a lot of people will remember her that way.

So here’s to you, Laura: Grandma, Mother, Sister and Friend. You are now at peace, free from any pain and suffering. You will walk amongst the clouds with those that have been lost before you, but at the end of everything, you will be reunited with your one true love. In life and straight through to death, love is all that matters.

I Would Do A New Year's Celebration Dance For All of You, But Then I'd Have to Apologize

First of all, Happy New Year, y’all! I hope everyone had a fantastically safe New Year’s Eve and you all have an even better New Year! Can you believe it’s 2010 already? I know that I sure can’t. Where did time go? Did someone eat it?

Speaking of time, this segues ever so nicely into the part of the blog where I would normally apologize for being MIA, but instead, I'm not going to. The truth is, I have been extremely busy and have probably been on the computer to do something outside of working on my novel for a total of somewhere between ten and twenty hours since mid September. I know this sounds like a lot, but when you factor in that I was either checking my e-mail, shopping for great deals for Christmas, or catching up and making plans with someone and then running off into the dark of night (did I just make myself sound like a hooker?), it really isn’t. I’ve wanted to write, but was absent of a lot of stories to tell in the insanity that has ensued in the last few months.

Now I finally have some stories to tell, having come out of the holidays totally unscathed. How did you all do?

The novel is coming along, but not as well as I would have liked. I really want to make this novel something I’m proud of, and take the time I believe it deserves to write it. I want to know when I take this to a publisher and shop it around, that it is something I am truly proud of and wouldn’t want to change a thing, or think I could have done something better. That way, if it’s rejected, I can never say I didn’t put my best foot forward, and from there I will continue on, write some new stuff, and self publish my book for those of you who have requested a copy. I thank you for that. You will definitely get one, one way or another. (Which just makes me want to sing the song, but I’ll do it quietly while I type.)

I write differently than most writers, and I knew going into this novel, being as it was my first shot at writing one, that considered and my health, too, it was realistically going to take me somewhere around two years to finish. I wanted to be done at the end of 2009, but I knew it was unrealistic when I made that goal. There’s a lot of things that come along with writing a novel that I didn’t expect, and it’s certainly much different than writing out short stories to post on the internet.

When I write, I always start by writing a first draft of the entire story, each chapter between eight to ten pages, and then make character profiles for each character from there. Then, I go in and do my second draft, which is the novel version that I have to get right. The reason I do this is because I already know exactly how the story will go from writing the first draft, and I’m happy with the first draft as a whole. When I go back in and do a second draft, this allows me the opportunity to expand upon each chapter to tie in with later chapters, while knowing exactly how the story ends. This also allows me to fix pieces that I wasn’t sure of, as when I do my first draft, I write straight through with the intention of fixing things later. In the second draft, it’s do or die. I consider the third draft the draft where I do nothing but fix small grammatical errors and the like, but by the time I reach that draft, the story is done and exactly how I want it.

I’m enjoying this process, and finding that it’s much more difficult than I thought, because the little things I think I can change easily, never end up being that little or that easy. Sometimes it feels like I’m staring down the belly of the beast, and they become larger than life. That’s when I have to walk away and get my head together for the sake of the story, and then come back to it. In the mean time, I have plenty of other ideas that are shaping up nicely. Who knows, maybe the story I started and thought would be my first novel, will end up not being the first one that I finish? I’m just enjoying the ride knowing that the important thing here is that I one hundred percent keep writing, and have faith that something beautiful and right will come out of it.

All in all, sometimes I lose my will power to keep writing, and I need to get back into reality for awhile, because it’s easy to spend too much time inside of your head while spending ten plus hours a day doing nothing but writing a story your imagination discovered. I had to take a good break from my computer, and especially from the internet world, and focus on myself and getting better, because in all of this writing and social networking, I forgot about taking care of myself. Knowing my current health, there were nights I stayed up way too late just to finish a chapter, and paid for it dearly the next day. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve gotten on a more regulated sleeping schedule, and have taken a good bit of the stress out of my life by backing away from constantly feeling like I had to keep up with a ton of networking sites on top of writing a story. It was exhausting and stupid on my part.

I know for sure I will keep this blog going, and hopefully I will write more, because I do love to write on here. I’m also considering started a blog specifically to talk about the writing process and what not. If I do start that blog, I will let you know. I also plan on keeping my Twitter, because, as little as it is used, it also takes a full two seconds to write something onto that. After that, I’m unsure. Having a mild case of OCD, Facebook and it’s non cohesive layout and feed of absolute junk and confusion just kills me. I actually don’t mind Myspace, but in a way it’s starting to feel like organized stalking. Essentially, Twitter is, too, but I feel like, in a lot of ways, it’s less invasive than Myspace. Maybe I’m wrong? Plus, Myspace is time consuming and I keep being told that “no one uses Myspace anymore.” Am I getting old that my response to that tends to be, "but I remember when Myspace was the shit?" Wait, I know the answer to that.

I have no idea what I’m doing with those sites yet, but I do know that anything outside of those sites will most likely be gone. I just can’t see spending hours a day updating a bunch of sites, and doing them all half assed just to network. I’d rather have a few that I do well and go from there. In the day and age of the internet, it’s easy to really feel lost in real life, and forget that there are real people outside of the computer screen. I don’t want to get sucked into that more than I already have. The computer age is good, but there’s a lot of things about it that just aren’t real, that you can’t touch.

I’m going to work on getting everything set up for 2010 and go from there. Actually, let me just process that it's 2010 already, and go from there instead.

Let’s talk holidays. There’s no way something funny hasn’t happened to you this holiday season, and by holiday season, I’m including anything that’s happened between Thanksgiving and 2010, so let’s start sharing stories and telling secrets like best girlfriends, shall we?

A week before Christmas, I found myself at the mall with a friend of mine, who I met through another friend. This was our first time hanging out just the two of us, so I didn’t know what to expect really, especially considering he was uber shy any other time I had been around him, but just as nice when he did speak, and a gracious host when I was at this house. This prompts me to share something else with you before I get into what I want to tell you, just because it’s so funny.

One time I ended up at this particular friend's house. We will call him Mike, mostly because that is his name. If I’ve talked about a Mike before, which I can’t remember if I have, this is a totally different Mike. Anyway, Mike lived with his parents and his brother who was two years his junior. His brother was a bit of an odd commodity, and never peeped out of his room in the basement except to eat, use the bathroom or leave. He didn’t even say much to Mike, so they just accepted this was who the brother was, as did all of Mike’s friends, and went along with their day. Then one day it happened. The parents were out of town and Mike’s brother comes up to him and says...and I quote, “I’m having a party in the kitchen tomorrow. You’re can come if you want.”

What makes this particularly great is that, not only was that the only thing his brother had said to him all week, but Mike was invited to a party in his very own home in which he lives. To make this ten times better, the only television in the house is down in the family room, and to get to the family room from anywhere in the house but the basement, you must go through the kitchen. To get to any of the cars to leave the house, you must go through the kitchen. There’s just an oodle of reasons you have to go through the kitchen in that house, so even if Mike wasn’t invited to the party, it’s unlikely he wouldn’t have had to somehow become part of it at one point in the day just to navigate his own house. Oh, and did I mention that Mike then invited my other friend and myself to the party that he was invited to by default? We didn’t go, but we should have. We heard all of his brother’s friends were nerds and they all sat around and literally stared at each other and said about two words to each other the whole night, and it was the lamest party in the history of the nation, so then again, maybe it’s good we missed it.

But back to the original story. Mike and I met up at the mall. He had Christmas gifts to still get, I did not, but I needed out of the house a little. We walked around, talked and then headed to get something to eat, but not after passing a guy who was tiny, white, dressed like a gansta, and wearing headphones and rapping, three times. THREE TIMES WE PASSED HIM! Epic.

Naturally, we’re sitting at the food court and Mike’s eating, whereas I wasn’t hungry, and we get into a discussion about music, which evolves into Mike telling me this. He is the kind of person, much like myself, that has to have some music going on while in the car. His mother, on the other hand, along with his father, both like complete and utter silence. For awhile Mike had been trying to convince his parents to let him play music when he was riding with them, to which they refused. Finally one day he was in the car with his mom and it was dead silent and killing him. He worked hard to convince her to let them listen to music, and she finally, after awhile of begging, obliged and hit the button on the CD player. Unbeknownst to him, apparently she listen to music in her car, even though she always told him she likes it completely silent. What’s better? Very loud, heavy, bitches and hoes rap music starts blaring through the speakers. Naturally, Mike is horrified. This is his mother listening to heavy rap. Then it happened, he turned to her, asked her what she was listening to, and she proceeded to rattle off the name just as a fifty something would rattle of Bette Midler, and continued driving like nothing happened. He, of course, wanted out of the car and never again asks to listen to music while riding with her anymore.

What still remains unknown is if the real reason his mom didn’t want to listen to music in the car when he was there was because this is what she listens to and she didn’t want him to know. What also remains unknown is how a fifty something found out about and got into Lil John and the East Side Boyz. Maybe somethings are better left to the imagination...or just laid to rest. To top it off, neither Mike nor I knew who Lil John and the East Side Boyz were prior to this, and both had to Google them. Sad and backwards? I think so.

As Paul would say: “I blame rap music.” Touche, Paul, touche.

I think by now everyone knows that I’m so out of the loop when it comes to cool things at the ripe old age of twenty four, but if you ask me anything about Disney Channel, particularly The Wizards of Waverly Place, I could tell you anything you wanted to know. This led to an interesting encounter between my mom and a random stranger, both who were Christmas shopping at Target.

My mom searched out and found The Wizards of Waverly Place movie at the same time that another woman also had. My mom then proceeds to look at the other woman and have a conversation similar to this. My mom reads this blog, so I’m sure she’ll correct me and let me know that this is not exactly how it happened, but I like to think it is, and the ending is all the same. The ending, by the way, is the good part.

Mom: “My daughter LOVES this show. She LOVES Selena Gomez.”

Other Lady: “My daughter, too.”

Insert more parts about me and this lady’s daughter, and how we all realize I could be obvious besties with her daughter, with sleepovers and WOWP marathons included. Then it all comes crashing down.

Mom: “Wow. Twenty bucks is just too much to pay for this movie. It will be on Disney Channel again, and my daughter’s already seen it.”

Other Lady: “But it’s Christmas.”

Mom: “Yeah, but my daughter’s twenty four. She’ll get over it.”

The look on the other lady’s face turns from understanding, to confused, to shock, to confused again over if my mom is serious or not that I’m twenty four and I sound like her daughter. 


Other Lady: “Oh, well my daughter is ten.”

Mom: “Well, that’s a little different.”

Other Lady: “Yeah, but you’re right, this is too much.”

*Both walk away from movie*

Look, Little Awesome Ten Year Old, of whom I do not know. First of all, let me say sorry that you didn’t get WOWP. It’s all my fault. Not directly, but it is. Secondly, I will buy you the movie with my Christmas money if you will talk WOWP and Selena Gomez with me without laughing. I’m not trying to be creepy, but I need a friend who understands how awesome Disney and Selena are. We can also color. I'll bring the crayons.

Oh, did I mention I got crayons for Christmas? I didn’t? Well, I did and Aunt Bev laughed and thought my mom was kidding about getting me crayons. In order to combat this, I colored Aunt Bev a picture for Christmas. I think this worked out quite swimmingly.

I also need to add a few more things. One - I submitted a story to MyVeryWorstDate.com. It was the Thanksgiving feature. You can see it here. I’m thinking this is probably really, really sad, but somehow the fact that it got posted makes me happy. It’s good to know others can laugh at something that I now laugh at, even if it wasn’t funny then.

Two - Gram is another reason I’ve been MIA, but even though she’s still terminal, obviously, she’s still hanging in there. Pray for her, you guys.

I also have to add to a previous post where I told a story about being at the hospital, and waiting to get an ultrasound. My mom informed me that I forgot to mention Fred, so here goes.

There was a guy in the waiting room named Fred. Fred looked and acted like a serial killer. How, you ask? Well, good ole’ Fred was suspicious from the get-go, what with his moving chairs to sit by new people who had been sitting in their place long before he came along, every couple of minutes and what not. He also lurked suspiciously behind his paper, as well as gave people the evil eye. He resembled closely every generic villain on Walker, Texas Ranger, and did a slew of other things that my mom can probably remember, but I can’t say that I can. So really Fred is probably a perfectly nice guy who can’t seem to make friends with any certain seat, but we’re just gonna say he’s a serial killer and leave it at that.

To round out this blog, I will also tell another story that comes to us via a friend who I will allow to remain nameless. Several years ago, this certain friend took her brother into a local sporting goods store to get him something he needed for his baseball team. As she’s standing there, jacket and all, a woman comes up to her and asks her where the bathrooms are. She tells the woman she doesn’t know. The woman then insists she works there. After my friend argues that it’s obvious she doesn’t, the lady then goes “but you should still know where the bathrooms are.” Finally my friend looks at her and says this exactly, “I’M A FAT KID IN A SPORTING GOODS STORE! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I COME HERE OFTEN?” And this is why I love my friends.

On a side note, does anyone else find the guy who plays Dr. Spencer Reid on Criminal Minds oddly attractive? I feel like the only one, and I have to admit, I'm a little embarrassed by this. I always did love the nerdy guys. Gees, someone make me feel better about this, please.

Oh, and y'all, please check out my mom's blog here.

Lying About My Age

I feel like this is a DVD that I put on eternal pause and then forgot to turn back on. That's possibly the worst analogy ever, but it's all I got. Look, I have a ton of insane, fun, hilarious stories for you guys, ones that will knock your socks off. Unless you're not wearing any, but if that's the case, put on some damn socks so I can knock them off. Anywho, my grandma is terminal right now and the stress alone is just eating at me, so I apologize for not having a chance to update. Plus, next week is my birthday. Ya birthday! I'm going to be 21. Okay, so I was 21 three years ago. Gees, it's too early to start lying about my age.

I Have A Kansas Song Stuck In My Head

Yep, it's true. I am a slacker. Even my blog is yelling at me, following me without a shadow through my day so when I turn around, I can not see it following me, but I just know. I called the police. They don't care.

Okay...so in all seriousness here, folks, I know that I'm hardly updating and I'm sorry. My grandma is still in the hospital, I had a party to plan / attend (even if it was for my dog, but I won't say either way...), I had an appointment and also made cookies for a charity event for the cute little animals, amongst other things. But I don't want to talk about most of that. I want to talk about my appointment. So yes, I'm actually going to tell a story today. I don't know how fun it is, but I desperately feel the need to tell it.

Today, I had a dentist appointment. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the dentist office I'm going to is kind of a pain in the ass. Okay, not kind of. The only reason I was going there was because my dentist retired and my insurance covered these people. They were closest to my house and family owned, so they won by default. Since June, which is when I started going to them, there's been issues. I was just going to list them, but hell, let me just tell you a story about them, because I'm not sure if I'm angry or amused by the amount of unprofessional fail going on at this office.

Every single time I've gone to them, they've been running at least a half an hour late, even when I'm the first appointment. Not kidding. Each time I get in a conversation with the people in the waiting room, who also have the same story. After awhile I was beginning to think the only reason I was going there was to catch up on my morning talk shows that played in the waiting room. And, in the interest of time, they are very popular for giving me a card with an appointment time on it, or giving me a time over the phone, and then calling the day before the appointment to remind me of my appointment, only to give me a totally different time. At first I thought I was going nuts, even though I have a ton of doctor's appointments and never once had this happen. That was until today when I was talking to another lady in the waiting room who also revealed this has consistently happened to her, and then I knew I wasn't crazy. She said, too, she's also come in at the time they gave her in the reminder call, and then was told upon coming in that her appointment was at a different time, the original time she was given, and that the mistake was her own. It wasn't. The pre-molded plastic that molds plastic spoons is sharper than they are.

Then we have the issue that my brand new filling just cracked in half and fell out, and I wasn't eating anything that should have hurt it. Beyond that, new fillings should not be falling out. And we're not talking that I ate immediately after it was put in and it wasn't set. It was about a month later. I've never, ever in the history of my life had a filling fall out. My old dentist, god rest his soul, always got those babies in, got them drilled down so my bite was even, and I was totally set. My bite since they fixed that filling; not so even.

Also, along the same lines is the fact that while I was going to them, they decided to swap out my old fillings with the mercury in them, for ones that match my teeth and do not have mercury. I realize the mercury in them is very, very minimal, but with having heart problems, it was worth a try. Besides that, a lot of doctors have been saying that if you can get them changed out, you should. My insurance was paying, so why not do it? Because my teeth never hurt until they switched them out. That's why. In fact, when they were doing my one tooth they told me that it was so far down to the gums that she didn't know how it wasn't hurting me. It wasn't, trust me. Now, though, after she tore apart my dentist and how he didn't put any filling, or padding, or whatever it was against my gum and how he did it incorrectly, and then went in and put said filling, it hurts like hell. I can't even eat on it. But it's not like I can eat on that side of my mouth anyway, and I haven't been able to since June.

Why, you ask? Well, back in good ole June, they started a root canal. Then, they had to send in papers to get the rest of the root canal approved. Only they forgot. And then several weeks later called me and said they were sending the papers that I thought were already sent. It took three weeks for approval, and almost another month after that for them to give me an appointment, since they wouldn't just give me one when they sent the papers in after telling me it takes exactly three weeks for my insurance to respond always. So making an appointment for three weeks after the date they sent the papers to the insurance, even a month, should have been a no brainer. But no, they wouldn't make it until after the approval. So I went and got the second part of the root canal done where they filled my tooth. That's when they remembered they forgot to send in the approval for the crown. And then they forgot to send it again, and a got a call a few weeks later, the whole deal. So it's now been over four months and still my root canal isn't done. And I know what you're thinking. Why would I keep going to them?

I feel like it's because I'm a stupid idiot, but honestly it's because they were the ones with the approval to my root canal. They started it, and I preferred they finish it. I also didn't know if my insurance would let me go somewhere else since they already had the approval. I had since stopped letting them do anything else to my teeth and opted that, when they were finished with my root canal, I would go on ahead and have another dentist do everything. I just wanted them to finish my damn root canal since they were the ones with the approval. And today happened...the day when they were to finish it.

Now, please understand that by now there are stress fractures in my filling for my root canal due to them waiting so damn long to put a crown on. I'm in pain, can't eat on that side because I have two teeth bothering me over there; my root canal one and the one they swapped the filling in. I could not have been happier to get this crown put on today. I would finally have a tooth that would stop hurting, and I wouldn't have to go back to that place, therefore getting to move on and get the other stuff that is hurting fixed, since I obviously couldn't trust them to do it and my insurance wouldn't let me go to two dentists at one, especially when one was carrying the approval for my root canal. I didn't even know if I could trust them to finish my root canal, but again, they had retained the approval for it and my insurance is a bit hinky, so I figured I'd shut up and get it done there.

So here I went merrily to the dentist office today. Upon entering, I waited at the reception desk while one of the dental assistants and the receptionist continued to have a personal conversation in front of me, and ignore me like I was invisible. When they finally finished their conversation, they turned to me and then checked me in. And ask for my insurance card that they had about four copies of. Awesome. But this was typical. This happens every time. I am always second to their conversations, and they've asked me on several, but not all occasions, to recopy my insurance card.

From there, I went in and sat in the waiting room for a half an hour, which was to be expected. The funny thing was, the appointment they gave me was for 10:30, they called me the day before to "remind" me of the appointment and told me it was at 10:00. I questioned it and they insisted on 10:00, and then didn't take me until 10:30 anyway, so I'm unsure why I even bothered to go in at 10:00. I should have known better. But while I was there waiting, I was enlightened by others.

First, there was a guy who was visiting from California. He took his mom to get her teeth cleaned. He got there at 8:30. At 10:30 when I went back, she still hadn't come out. Around ten till 11:00, I went out to pee and they were just finishing her up. And all she was doing was GETTING HER TEETH CLEANED! That's it. When he left...that's all they had done. That's just beyond ridiculous, first of all.

Then, there was a lady who was there with her daughter. Her daughter had missed three days of school in the last week and a half due to their negligence to correctly do her teeth. They were refusing to pull her baby teeth, and trying to drill them and fill cavities in them. They're baby teeth. They fall out. They were hurting her, and all they wanted to do was have them pulled. Her daughter was upset and scared, and when we ended up running into them at Wal-Mart a good while later, the mother said she was taking her daughter elsewhere, as she's had it with them. She was also the one who told me they often tell her one time, and then another. Awesome.

When I finally got back to the chair, the dentist came in immediately, didn't say too much, gave me two shots in my mouth, and then left. I didn't realize that I had to have any numbing agents to get my crown put on, and I know that I should have said something when she went to put it into my mouth, but she did it so fast I barely had time to think, far more talk. A few minutes later, I started to feel kind of sick. This normally doesn't happen, but sometimes it will. Only, then I felt dizzy and I was realizing she hadn't just given me a numbing agent. She had to have given me something else...without telling me.

Then we sat...and sat...and wondered if she had died, because trust me, by now, I was numb. The thing with this dentist office is that it's very open and you can see what others are doing, so it wasn't hard to see that she was working on two other patients back and forth while I sat there feeling sick, and with a very numb mouth. I tried to pass the time by going to the bathroom, only to find she was working on ANOTHER person, and one of the other people she had started out working on, was still sitting there. This is when I became concerned that I was going to die there, but I went back to the room and waited some more, feeling increasingly worse as time went on.

After a half an hour, the numbing agent was wearing off and no one had come back to look inside my mouth. Hell, no one had even come back to check on me, say "I'll be right with you," or "go to hell." I feel the second one was the sentiment closer to what they were thinking. No one. Not one person. They just let me sit back there for a HALF AN HOUR with a NUMB MOUTH. This is when I realized they weren't coming back any time soon, nor did they care. I also realized my mouth was also not so numb anymore, meaning they were going to have to give me more of what they already had just to do what they were going to do, and for no reason. Had they worked on me instead of leaving me alone for a half an hour, we wouldn't have had this problem. Sure, maybe they would have had to give me a little more to keep me numb, but they basically just shot junk into my gums and made me sick for no reason, only to have to repeat it. This was logically problematic for two reasons...okay, more than two, but I'm trying to be nice.

One, I have issues with my heart, so we have to be careful with giving me Novocaine and anything of the like. They know this. They've known this since my first appointment. Then they do this, and would be forced to give me more because they ignored me. Then there's the issue that whatever they gave me was already making me feel sick. I didn't think I could handle more without spending the day sick. It wasn't the normal stuff they gave me, and this is when I decided to get up and take a look at the marked tubes that she had pulled the medication out of it that she put in my mouth, and had not thrown them away. The garbage can was right there and they were empty. Just saying. Upon an examination of them, I saw the one was an anesthetic, which was fine. I know that anesthetics are sometimes used in dental treatments. The problem, however, was that it had hydrochloride in it. I'm allergic to hydrochloride, and had she bothered to ask me if it was okay to give me any kind of anesthetic first, or asked me what I was allergic to first, she would have known that. No wonder I was sick.

By now it was slightly after a half an hour and I hadn't heard a word or a peep from anyone who worked there. I was done. Combine that with the fact that they had given me something I was allergic to without checking with me first, and then would have to give me either more, or more of something different because I was no longer numb due to their negligence, I knew there was not much of a reason to stick around. She wasn't getting to me any time soon. It was over an hour after my appointment, and I was back at point one and just sitting there. I've never, ever done this before, but I got up and walked out of my appointment, and as I passed several nurses with my purse and water bottle, and my mom with hers, and passed the dentist, they all looked at us, but no one bothered to ask if anything was going on, or if everything was okay. They just ignored us.

Needless to say, this was my final straw with the dentist office. When I had left, I also took my approval paper with me that they left lying out, knowing they had to remit it to the insurance company with the bill for the crown, so that they couldn't do it. Hey, it was my paper. I then proceeded to call the insurance company, who told me if there were any issues such as these, they wanted them through an e-mail, or in writing. When I got home, I wrote them out an e-mail explaining the situation, letting them know that the dentist's office did NOT put a crown on my tooth like I had been waiting over four months for them to do, as well as my other woes with them, and there were several. I then asked if there were some way for them to let me go to another dentist, and allow that dentist to send in a new pre-approval paper since the crown still needs done. I don't know what's going to happen, but I hope they don't say no and make me go back to that office, because I think if they do, I would rather go somewhere and just have the root canal tooth pulled than finish this root canal with them. I just can not do it. It's not worth my time, sanity, or the health of my mouth, the mouth they have very poorly taken care of.

The really finish off the story beautifully, they called me and left a message on my answering machine asking me to call them back. This is great, except they did this six and a half hours after I walked out. SIX AND A HALF HOURS. Look, people, either do it as soon as you notice someone left the office, or don't do it at all. I think this really says a lot about them.

I won't post the name of the dental office on here, but if you live in Western Pennsylvania, Westmoreland or Allegheny County, and are trying to find a new dentist, please comment on this blog and I will privately let you know who NOT to go to and save you the hell I've gone through with these people.

Now, because I haven't been fun, I will give you all a bonus and tell you a few cute little stories from days past, via texts that are still in my phone. I hate leaving you all with an angst driven blog entry.

- The other day my mom and I were watching Murder, She Wrote, and John Astin, who was in The Addams Family, was on there. This started us in singing the theme song, only we couldn't remember what order spooky and ooky were in, so I had to Google the lyrics. Then, after I did that, I couldn't get the song out of my head. Awesome. And for the record, it's spooky and then ooky, but these both come after kooky, which I had totally forgotten about. Ah, rhyming words. They're so fickle.

- I was sitting on the couch with one cat lying on my lap, and another up on the back of the couch behind my head. I was petting the cat on my lap, while the one behind me was sleeping. Or at least I thought he was sleeping. That was until he whacked me over the head. Apparently he was jealous I wasn't petting him, too.

- I am disappointed in myself because I actually watched several episodes of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, and I kind of liked them. But just a few things. First, I like Kim and all, but how is it that she hears herself sing, and then still believes she actually can? Is she that tone deaf? I don't know why exactly someone would choose to work with her, but with the auto-tone she sounded okay, and the song is selling, so I guess that's all that matters. But, bottom line, Bitch whose hair was tardy to the party, can not sing. Second, she does realized she just got engaged to a married man, right? Because I don't think she does. Dear Lord...

- Another show I'm a little disappointed I watch is The Rachel Zoe Project. I always wonder why I watch it, and then the other day she says "I literally felt like a cow about to moo," in reference to how she felt like it was a cattle herd backstage at a fashion show. Then I remembered why I watch it.

- I have recently fallen in love with the song Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas, and I wondered to Becky through text how weird it would be for me to have a seventies song as a ring tone. Around here, you can't have a country ring tone, as everyone does and you'll never hear your phone and know it's yours, and I usually don't hear most of the sub-par music of today ring tones, so I wanted something different. She told me it would only be a two on the scale of one to ten in weirdness, so I'm going for it. Oh, and you're welcome for the video on this. Mom, I'm sorry that it doesn't have lyrics, but it has something way better. Hot guys.

- I was coming home from getting my glasses tightened the other day, and a hardware store sign said "It's wine season! Get your wine here!" Only in Western Pennsylvania, folks. In all fairness, I think there was a wine shop back there, too, but I'm unsure and the wording was on the hardware store sign. I'm sorry, but getting wine at a hardware store would be like using Spongebob as an alter cover. Does.not.compute.

- While exiting Target, my mom was reading the reciept and making sure everything was kosher on it, when she says out loud, what's up dry sht? I almost died when she said that, and then immediately had to see what she was talking about. I come over, look at the receipt, and sure enough it said UP DRY SHT. I realized they meant Up Drier Sheets, but you guys, that could be ominously dirty. I told Becky I would scan this receipt for her to put it on 11 points. Still working on that one.

- I probably haven't told this story before, but Aunt Bev grew up in a rather interesting house. Ever since she was a teenager, she's seen things in the house, heard them, and have had strange occurrences. She no longer lives there, but when her mom passed away, my mom was helping her clean out the house and they also had some very interesting things happen, as have I. I won't get into anyone else's stories but my own, and I'll only tell one. One day I was at her house and upstairs seeing the new renovations being done. I was standing in her parent's old room when my mom announced she was going to go and move her vehicle. I stood in the room for awhile when all of a sudden I heard someone crying. Thinking it was my mom trying to be cute, I just blew it off and stepped back, fully expecting to see her standing there, because I had heard it too loudly, too clearly, and for too long for it to be anything but her, and it was a female crying. She wasn't standing there, however, and when I looked out the window, she was in her vehicle moving it. There was no way she could have made the sound that came from directly behind me only thirty seconds earlier.

That being said, we were joking about going to the house to hand out Halloween candy, as it would be like our own haunted house experience. I should explain that Bev's brother now owns the house, but has not yet moved in, and she still has stuff there she needs to get, so we'd have a reason to go over. This is when Aunt Bev goes "The problem with that is, there will be three of us there (her, my mom, and myself), and ten people handing out candy." She was referring to whatever is in the house. This then turned into us going "Some kids will be like, hey, thanks for the candy, and I'll be like, I didn't give them candy, and you two will agree, and we'll just turn around and there will be this ominous piece of candy just looming there." Needless to say, although that is unlikely to happen, we still decided to just avoid the house.

- One of the cutest movies that Disney ever did for their exclusive channel is called The Scream Team. It's a Halloween movie with Kat Dennings, Eric Idle, and Kathy Nijimy, and they hardly show it anymore. However, the best line ever comes from it. "And we're walking...and we're walking, and we're smiling...because we're dead, not depressed." The guy who said it was obviously gay, and I am obviously in love with him, and also determined when I die I'm going to run around saying that to all the newbies to the afterlife.

- I'm obsessed with wedding shows, and one of my favorites is My Fair Wedding with David Tetura. Last week on the show, there was a man named Tedroy. At first I thought his first name was Ted and his last Roy. Then, they said his last name was Johnson. Later they showed his name illuminated on the dance floor, and it was indeed Tedroy. I have zero disrespect towards the name, but I have to wonder, is Tedroy the ghetto version of Billy Bob or Jim Bob? Is that mean to wonder it truthfully?

- Becky recently bought a new jacket and asked me if it was weird she was concerned someone was going to steal it from the back room while she was working. She works at Wal-Mart, so I found this to be an illusive question considering some of the people she works with, but I couldn't evade it. I told her I'd be worried, joking, of course, and then took it back and ominously told her that No, no...nothing to be worried about. It's probably fine. I didn't think she was working with any kleptos. I also told her to watch out for box gnomes, because sometimes they get bored, and then proceeded to go back to the original sentiment and ask her all about her jacket. When she left that day, she found she had nothing to be worried about. She doesn't work with an kleptos, which is really good to know. No, seriously...it is.

- The Dancing With the Stars cast this year is adorable, especially Melissa Joan Hart. She's concerned, however, that she's a bad dancer, and although she's not great, she doesn't suck. In her package last week, though, she said the cutest thing. While practicing for her Latin dance, she goes "I know what I look like...and it's ridiculous." How can you not adore her?

On the same note, Donny Osmond keeps insisting that after all the ways he moves is body on the show, Utah isn't going to allow his Mormon self back in, which is just great and hilarious, and I love Donny in a very platonic way. This week he said it regarding that he had to dance a very sexy dance. Only, after saying that, he got up and danced with the one judge, Bruno, and then kissed him. He was all up on Bruno in a very hilarious way, to which host Tom Bergeron responded by saying, "I'd say take it outside, but that could get scary." Everyone lost their shit and couldn't concentrate, resulting in poor Carrie Ann Inaba giving a very half assed review of his dancing while laughing hysterically.

Then, if that wasn't enough for one night, Donny later proceeded to dance backstage with Aaron Carter. Okay, seriously you guys, I never thought I'd see Donny and Aaron in the same room together, or use their names in the same sentence, far more see them dancing together. However, Donny seems awesome, and many moons ago I knew Aaron and he was a really nice, easy going kid, and I'm sure he probably still is, so somehow I think they're a good match. Not romantically, just to dance together.

- The other day I had to go to the hospital for another ultrasound of my side. The doctor was concerned it could be cancerous, and would continue to do ultrasounds on it and keep an eye on it. If it grew, it was a good possibility it was cancerous, but if it didn't, I was fine. The thing with polyps are, they do two things. They grow, or they stay the same. However, they've never met me. I went in and had a ultrasound done by two different people, only to find out it had actually shrunk. No one was sure what to think of it, but it actually shrunk. They don't know why, and neither do I, but I don't care. It's harmless and it seems to be going away on its own. Therefore, I love it and want to hug it, but can't.

While waiting to go back for my ultrasound, since I was early (and they did take me on time, unlike the dentist), two interesting things happened. First, a huge, we're talking close to 7 foot and built like a brick wall, prisoner was brought through. He had shackles on and four guards. I had to pee prior and was too afraid to get up and go past him until he left.

Second, when I did finally go pee, I was in the hallway and this little girl, probably around 1 and a half, was walking by poking all these poles like Monk, and I was in front of the one pole, so she poked me and kept going like it was totally normal. She made my life. I wanted to adopt her, but I think her mom wanted her. Plus, if I was running around with a black baby, seeing as I'm the whitest girl in America, I think someone would sense something was wrong and I'd be put in jail quickly. I couldn't even go incognito. As it should be.

From there we visited my grandma, and then went to her house to check up on things, and pay some of her bills sine she's been in there for almost three weeks. When we were leaving, we noticed pictures on her neighbor's door of her grandson. He looks like a fruity politician, so I said he was going to be one. My mom said "that, or a gay party planner." Then we settled on a gay politician. Can I be besties with this kid?

- This was my excuse for not responding to an e-mail in a decent amount of time, when really I just hadn't had a chance to be online. Copied and pasted.

I just finished making neon orange Rice Krispie treats, while simultaneously ranting about how suburban lawns hate rakes. It's safer for you if you don't ask. But that's not the point of this email.

The point is...I didn't get back to your email last night. Look, I'm going to level with you here with no BS or exaggeration. Last night, I was testing out my new job as the Wicked Witch Of the East. My first mission was not to answer any emails. As you can see, I resigned before my first twenty four hours were up. Some call me a quitter, others a lose, and none an entrepreneur. But I just think I didn't have it in me.

- After the last blog, I'm sure you know about the game of Life, and the antics that have ensued while my mom and I played it. Now, add Aunt Bev, because that's exactly what happened on Saturday. Here are the highlights.

Everyone married someone of the opposite sex, instead of the same sex, like my mom did last time. So obviously my mom and Aunt Bev didn't get married even though we decided it was totally acceptable to marry someone of the same sex if we so choose. I decided to ask them who they did marry, then. My mom said James Gardner, who is thirty years older than her. Aunt Bev decided she married the guy from a vibrator ad in one of her magazines. This is the ad she makes fun of it because it's for a woman's vibrator and tries to claim that it's so discreet, that your significant other won't know you're using it. We don't believe them.

I, on the other hand, was a major whore in the game. Or, as Lauren likes to say, whoire. I'm not sure why she uses whoire when she types, but she does and I love it. Anyway, I had a ton of kids. I was totally octo-mom with a fake husband, who I decided was Jensen Ackles. Who says board games are fun and imaginative?

- And last but not least, the Supernatural quote of the day. "Being a fugitive; freaking dance party." Their idea of a dance party is not the same as mine...of course he was being sarcastic. I think.

This Message Is Greta Hayley Approved

She's even sitting five feet from me, upside down, of course, and smiling. That says it all.

Last night my mom and I played the game of Life...and if it's an omen, I am screwed. Even though I'm thinking that probably doesn't cover it.

The game started out innocently enough. The first game consisted of us not remembering how to play it, having to stop and read directions and basically doing a bunch of stuff wrong. I won, but I still lost. How, you ask? I got to the finish line first and had the least money. Of course, we also finished out the game incorrectly, so it's kinda hard to say. Okay, it's not. I was broke compared to my mom. I lost. Then I decided that since we knew what we were doing, we'd play a second game correctly. This was quite possibly the worst and funniest idea ever, all mixed in one.

The game started out okay, and then I lost all my money and very quickly needed to borrow promissory notes. As my mom points out, she's never seen anyone ever need promissory notes, ever, in all the years she's played the game. That's okay, because that didn't stop me from piling them on. I needed, like, ten of them. This may not be the exact number, but it was seriously somewhere around there. I got to the end of the game, made some money, and was just able to pay them back. Only, I finished with so little money that I'd be embarrassed to tell you the exact amount.

My mom, on the other hand, hit everything lucky. She had money, a wife, and landed on all the great spaces. What's that? You want me to go back and explain how my completely straight mother had a wife? Okay...sure.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you're very well aware that my Mom and Aunt Bev, who are both straight, joke about how they would be the perfect couple. So while we were playing the game the first time, we were discussing how the game is morally out of date, as now gay and lesbian couples can get married, and therefore it should be just fine to marry someone of the same sex, and then adopt your kids instead of physically birthing them. My mom decided to do just that. When she landed on the spot that forced you to stop and get married, which is just so non modern, she decided to marry Aunt Bev and put another female in her car. Really, she did. I even have the text to prove it.

* We're playing Life, and my mom had to stop and collect a spouse, so she decided to marry Aunt Bev. So now her car has two girls in it.

From there, she and Aunt Bev had four kids; two boys and two girls, and the girls were twins. This was hilarious enough and definitely with the times. Upon my mom hanging out with Aunt Bev today, she came home and told me that she and Aunt Bev had a discussion, and their twins, Jessica and Jennifer, now have grown up and just moved into their first apartment together. I don't know what to say here other than Mazel Tov, and I'm not Jewish. They're not lesbians either...so it works.

I, on the other hand, had a very tragic ending to the game. No, I'm not talking about the said aforementioned losing. I'm not even talking about how I had to borrow three promissory notes to "donate" $50,000 to an orphanage because my ovaries decided to reject growing and popping out children. I'm talking about how my car finished alone. How is that possible, you ask? Well, I'd be glad to clear that up for you.

About midway through the game, my female driver, I.E. fake me, decided to jump ship. Sure, it was just a pink peg that I could have put back in the car, but I figured that the game was going so badly, that this was probably a sign, and really, she probably hadn't just fallen out like all good pegs do at one time or another. She had committed suicide. Pure, unadulterated suicide. She just couldn't take how far her family was in debt, or how many promissory notes she had. Therefore, I did her, or myself, a favor, and left her there. She was but a mere casualty of the game in Life, left right in the middle of the road on the space that informed me I had to pay interest on my promissory notes with the invisible money I did not have.

It wasn't long before the husband, somehow driving from the passenger seat, came along the space where he was forced to pay a ton of money for an inherited skunk farm that his Uncle had left him. He sincerely debated what to do, but after realizing he had also inherited on hundred cats off his Aunt earlier in the game and had to take out promissory notes for that, too, ones that he had yet to pay back, he followed in his wives footsteps and junked out on the rest of the game.

From there, my luck got good enough to finish the game with no promissory notes and little money. What I'm saying here, folks, is that the people in my car were a bad omen. The car itself, well, it did pretty damn good alone. I don't know how it drove itself. It must have had some Knight Rider type powers, but I don't question it. All I know is that I lost, but at least I didn't owe any money when I did it. I realize that's not any consolation, but it's all I got. Don't ruin this for me.

I am also just looking over my texts, because I know I sent some out about how awesomely hilarious this game ended up being, and I must share anything that I could have possibly forgotten. Which would be the following.

* Stitch also attacked the game board, so basically he's Godzilla to the game of Life.

He really, really was. We're right in the middle of the first game; the far less disastrous one, and all of a sudden, he jumped on the game board and pranced around like he owned the world. He really gave the people in the cars a good scare. He even almost managed to wreck one of the roads that was coming off, so I ended up having to tape it back down. Seriously, though, I think I should have taken out my phone and, instead of texting, video taped his rampage. It could have been the next blockbuster. Okay, fine, so it could have been an awesome re-take on Godzilla. I mean, cats are cuter than apes. It could work. Don't ruin this for me, either.

Needless to say, for my humor, this was pretty much the funniest game I've ever played in my life. No pun intended. This tops both bowling sober and being beat out by a drunk guy when Becky's and my scores were combined, and several rip roaring holiday games of Mall Madness. If you've ever played Mall Madness, this speaks for itself.

This Saturday is Leo's birthday party. Leo is my dog. Aunt Bev is coming over, and I think since we have no movie to watch on this special night like we normally do on our party nights, we shall all have to play Life AND Mall Madness just so I have something to blog about. I'm gonna try to make this happen. You with me, Ladies?

In other, much more important news, if you are the praying kind, please pray for my Grandma. She is in the hospital and not doing well. I'm not asking you to pray for things to work out perfect for her, or for all of us that really don't want to lose her, because the world is not perfect. I'm asking that you pray for what is right for her, and for God's will to work itself out. I have full faith that he knows what is right for her. I love my Grandma dearly, so please, even if you're not the praying kind, make an exception. For Grandma.

If you do, I will even share fun texts with you. Oh, screw it, I was going to do it anyway. And I apologize that I only have a few texts this time, and a very small amount of IMs, but I've barely been online / on my phone, or sociable, because there's just been so much going on. Especially emotionally with the worry about my Grandma. I'll try to make them fun, anyway. I'm just going to get to the point.

IMs, because there's more of them, but they're funnier and more pointless at the same time. Double score:

* Because ultimately, the person you're in a relationship with should be your best friend.

This starts out well enough, but in the very next sentence, in the very same IM, this is exactly what happens, steering this otherwise true thought, into muddy, uncivilized waters.

... I'm not saying you have to have slumber parties, or paint each other's nails here...but damn.

Okay, I'm totally saying that you have to have non sexual slumber parties and paint each other's nails. Because if a guy isn't willing to don the hot pink, and he can't paint your nails all pretty so you can avoid paying to get them done, then what good is he? Where's the dedication? Where's the talent?

* You know what's even weirder, is when you put x.x and I didn't see the period between them, I was all, "Is she trying to tell me something XX."

She wasn't. She was trying to make a face on the computer. You know, X-ed out eyes, X-ed out mouth? Only I liked my explanation better...

* And a love story. Supernatural: Not a love story.

Unless you think that two brothers touring the nation and whacking demons is a love story. If you do, then I really am unsure if I want to make you my best friend, or if I would literally move to another country to get away from you.

* He, on the other hand, picks pockets.

Relax. Although I know this could explain a lot of people, it's concerning someone in one of my novels, and isn't based on anyone I know. At least I don't think it is. Actually, it could be. Wait, where's my ten?

* Even if Jensen Ackles ran around without a shirt for the whole episode, it isn't worth it.

Okay, I know there's really no reason this should ever be a true statement, but you guys, there's a Supernatural episode about clowns. Even if he was naked...he is not worth an episode about killer clowns. KILLER CLOWNS! Yesh! No wonder kids hate clowns!

* ilu8 looks like a hula dance. Don't ask me why, but I see ilu8 and I think of hula dancing. Please tell me that made sense to someone, somewhere.

It made sense to Becky 3, and she agreed that ilu8 looks like hula. If I'm crazy, I'm not alone. That's all that really matters at the end of life. You're not alone. Unless you're talking the game of Life, then that's pretty much the only way to win; get more money alone than the other players.

* Toot is right up there with Uranus for me.

Listen, we've already discussed that I'm one of "those" people when it comes to Uranus. Is it really any shock that I can't hold a straight face when someone says toot?

Becky 3 and I also decided we were tired of people, so we were finding an otherwise uninhabited island and planting our own flag on it, therefore claiming it. Or stealing it. I think we settled on having to steal it, but let's just go with "claiming" it because it sounds more legal. Probably because it is. Oh, and we're also making it our own country. One island. Anyway, you can only visit us by invitation, and we figured we'll lie and try to make it sound like some really awesome retreat so that we can get celebrities to come. We've already decided on several who we will be sending our invitations to once we get the whole finding an uninhabited island and building housing on it thing taken care of. The list includes Jensen Ackles, because we want to look at him. Brendon Urie...because he amuses us with his ADHD. Pete Wentz, because we want to see what he would really do without police there to stop him, and somewhere that it was impossible for him to get arrested. In hindsight, that's probably not such a good idea. Tell us something we don't know. (Seriously, you fell for that link? Oh, and wasn't she just uber adorable with this song on Dancing With the Stars tonight?) Then we decided we could also have one old guy each, so she went with Alan Rickman, and I picked George Eads. Oh, shut up. You are so not surprised by this. In the epicness of all of this, I feel the need to share the juicy parts of our IM on how this came about.

Me: Should we start making a list of people who are allowed? I'm thinking with us it's going to be a lot of hot guys / celebs, and we're going to have to send them invitations. As creepy as that is, as long as we make them pretty, I'm convinced it will be okay. No one can hate pretty.

Becky: You're right. Pretty = good. And shiny. (There's obvious reasons we're friends here, folks.)

Me: YES! And friendly. (Can invitations really be friendly? Isn't that a human trait? Can inanimate objects take on human traits? Let's just say they can and be done with it. More on this later.)

Becky: You gotta have sparkles, too.

Me: (Regarding them being the aforementioned "friendly.") We won't be all, "Hi, we just stole an island, and we think you're hot, so you have to come." They'll say stuff like, "You're cordially invited to a very special event on: *Insert Island Name Here* We would be absolutely glorified to have you as our guest. Instead of, "Look, we have an island, you're hot, come visit." (I've also decided that the island's name is now officially Insert Island Name Here. Catchy, no?)

Becky: Yes. Oh wait...we're not kidnapping them and keeping them there? (Really, you're still curious about why we're friends. She's the genius to my evil. Or maybe that's visa versa. I'm not sure. I'll ask her. She can pick.)

Me: Umm. I mean. Well... (That should have been a no, but since we're already doing something illegal, why the heck not? Everyone needs to throw caution to the wind sometimes. Whomever coined that phrase, I'm sure is rolling in their grave now, smashing their head repeatedly off of pointy things just hoping to feel something that comes similar to the sound of their poor, dead heart breaking over the misconstrued way we're taking their words.)

Becky: I mean, they'll want to stay because it's soo awesome anyway. (Yes, soo, with two o's. I could insert a joke here, but my Mom and Aunt Bev read this blog. Besides, Aunt Bev, would you like to take this one? You, with all the articles about underwear that push you up and out, and vibrators, that you're saving for me? And when I get them, I promise to explain this better and post them on here.)

Me: Okay, look, let's do this. We're cute girls. Let's let them come to our island several at a time, so it's not creepy, and we'll just charm them. If they stay, they stay. If not, we won't make them, but we will friend them so they keep coming back, and we'll win them over in the end.

Becky: O. Okay. I like that better.

Me: I think it will work beautifully. I mean, we're charming enough to win them over.

The conversation was fairly sub par while we figured out who we were inviting, then once we figured out we were each inviting one older guy, we realized this.

Me: I think maybe we're creepy. And if those are our old guys, how old can we go before anyone else is considered an old guy? Oh god, we are. (Yes, we are creepy. But not window peeking creepy. Just verbally creepy. Okay, not even that. Just keyboard creepy.)

In the end, we decided 35 - 39 tops. I think it's obvious at our ages of early twenties, we like older guys, if that's what we're considering old. If not, I have no other reasoning for the twelve years of flexibility we've allowed ourselves.

Texts concerning Supernatural.

* This dude just said, "If it bit them in the persqueeter." And he didn't crack a smile. Is persqueeter a word?

Okay, look, it's already been discussed that I'm probably the only person who would hear this line, and instead of cracking up, immediately text someone and ask them if persqueeter was a word. You would think with a mind like that, I watch a lot of the History channel, or something, but no. I am, however, a fan of TLC, although I think the name, The Learning Channel, is an oxymoron, as all I've learned from it is how to pick a wedding dress that flatters, and what it's like to raise eight kids. Just saying...but that's not the point. The point is, persqueeter is a word. I looked it up. It does not mean ass, which I thought was an awesome initial assumption. I will not say what it means, but if you're curious, look it up on the urban dictionary. Don't say I didn't warn you.

* Last night I woke up to the theme from Supernatural, as my DVD reverted back to the menu. What I want to know is how in the hell did I fall asleep watching guys that hot? That's illegal somewhere.

In case I need to remind you, hello Jensen and Jared. I mean, seriously. And it wasn't even late. For those of you who know me, you know this is some kind of mortal sin. I'm an insomniac. It's rare I can even sleep, and then to fall asleep during Supernatural? Yeah, I can't figure it out either. (Alright, guys, no, I do not watch the show because they're hot. I really, really enjoy the plotline, as ridiculous as it may seem. I'm hooked. The fact that they're hot; it's just a bonus.)

* "We're using a Spongebob tablecloth in place of an alter covering?" ... "Well, just put it Spongebob side down."

Okay, this makes me want to take a day and visit a ton of churches, turning their alter covers upside down just to see if Spongebob is beneath any of them. If he is, I'm totally "creatively borrowing" their alter covers. And by creatively borrowing, I mean stealing. So basically what I'm saying is that I could go to jail over Spongebob. How many people can say that?

* My neighbor, Mr. Rogers, tried to kill me, so I was forced to kill him." ... "So wait, you killed Mr. Rogers?" ... "Yes." ... "Okay. I just had to get that straight."

This is hilarious considering Mr. Rogers was Mr. Do-Gooder. Now, guys, I realize there's been a rumor going around that Mr. Rogers was actually a Navy Seal. And I know this is going to come as a shock to my Mom, but he was not, actually. I've done some extensive research on that, and it is nothing more but an urban legend and has been repeatedly confirmed as not true. There are exactly zero listings of him ever being in the Military, Army, Navy Seals, etc. It's just not true. So for those of you laughing and thinking Mr. Rogers could have actually kicked the guys ass before he killed him, it's not true. Well, I mean, maybe he could have, but being a Minister, I think that might be unholy or something. I can't say for sure. If someone's trying to kill you and your only choice is to kill them first, what is a Minister to do? (No, really, does anyone know the answer to this?)

Yesterday I got a text from Becky asking me if she came with a warning label, what it would be. It was one of those awesome mass texts, so of course I wanted to have the best answer. I'm sure I didn't, but I definitely had the best backpedaling.

* WARNING: Have boobs, will travel.

For obvious reasons, I realized three minutes later just how bad that sounded. Yeah, it took me that long to become a big enough pervert to realize it, but I did.

* I promise your warning label was not meant to make you sound like a whore. I'm just saying...damn, you got boobs.

And she does. Just ask her. I mean, it's not that I'm looking at her boobs, but we're girls. We shop together. We make fun of our boobs together, and complain about our boobs together. Yes, guys, girls really do that. Don't you wish you were a fly on a sorority wall? Okay, you already wished that, but don't you just wish that more now?

* Wait! Wait...WARNING: Damn, I got boobs.

I think I got it that time. Or not.

Reasons I should never be allowed to watch Dancing With the Stars.

* I just used the phrase "They're having a ball with whomever has their hand up that puppet."

How does this have to do with DWTS, you ask? Did you even watch it last night? Did you see how the Muppets were on there, and the one played a saxophone in the one judge's ear. Yeah, I could try to spell his name, but I don't think that's fair to do that to a person. His first name is Bruno. From there it's just a jumble of letters that I will never get in the correct order. Anyway, it was funny. Then, the puppet made friends with good ole' Bruno and it was awesome. So yes, I think my comment was warranted. Whomever was controlling that puppet, they were having a blast. And kids, I'm just kidding. That wasn't a puppet. That was a real Muppet. *Whistles innocently*

I think I'll just stop here before I ruin Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny for anyone else. Because they're totally real. Totally.

Evicking Siegelnvs

*Shock*

*Gasp*

What do you mean I haven’t updated in several days, even though I’ve had stuff completely done to post, and then have been sitting on well over a weeks worth of texts, IMs and tweets to go through and post on here, even though it’s probably dumb I’m posting that kind of stuff on here, but it’s my blog and it makes me laugh?

*Shock*

*More Gasping*

What do you mean that was a run on sentence?

Okay, in all serious, you guys, my gram is back in the hospital, so there’s a lot going on over here, and I just haven’t had a chance to go through everything or post. In fact, I’ve hardly been online. I also realize my blog has turned into more texts and IMs than stories, which is sad because it’s a total cop out for me not having the proper amount of time to actually write all these stories that I have to write about. I will get there, I hope. Until then, you all have to put up with more texts and IMs. Oh, go ahead and boo me. I’m already booing myself, so you’re just adding to the noise. But honestly, guys, some of the following have stories behind them, so I’m going to add them, too, which makes me suck only ever so slightly less. Plus, it’s really, really long, so that adds cool points, whether you all like it or not. Oh, and stories are in italics.

IMs by me that have nothing to do with anything that has to do with anything else. Don’t you wish you were my friend? Oh wait...what’s that? You’re glad you’re not. Okay. Point taken. But you're still going to read on, right? Because if you don't, that will force me to come to your house and befriend you against your will. There's no law against that...I don't think.

*All I can think when I see the commercial that’s on now is, “We care about these bitches, why?”

*I wanna know why boys don’t get periods. We’re such nice, sweet little things, us girls, and they’re huge jerks, so may I say, WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?

*I wanna e-mail her and be like, “Look, if you’re not going to use my submissions, at least learn that it’s not Twit, but Tweet.”

*Nate is going to get married before us, isn’t he?
And when you cry at the wedding, it won’t be because you’re happy for him.

Story time! Gather around! Many moons ago, or, you know, last January, Becky was preparing to be the Maid of Honor in her friend's wedding, and as we’re standing there mauling over her dress that was just re-altered after it was messed up the first time, her mom pointed out that we were going to make good bridesmaids for each other since we’re a lot alike, are helpful towards each other, and say things just how they are. I then asked who she thought was going to get married first, Becky or me. In unison, both Becky and her mom go, “NATE!” Nate is Becky’s sixteen year old brother who has had the same girlfriend for two years. We can’t even get dates. Sadly, I think they’re right.

*That’d be a hot date. “Hey, wanna split a cab home?” ... “Uh, didn’t you drive?” ... “Yeah, but I forgot to charge my electric car first, so I can’t get us back home. Sorry.” *Goes back to eating like normal.*

*Solemates...is that like when two shoes meet for the first time, one left, one right, and realize they’re a match?

*I lie on a whale cake.

*I should be a boy.
It would make more sense.

*I promise to never bee the kind of friend who doesn’t think out loud and make an ass out of herself.
Yes, bee.

*I think he’s hysterical, and I’m Christian.

Sadly, I need to explain this so I don’t hear about this until the day I die. Some certain person made some funny remarks about Christian songs, and the way their lyrics sound very wrong if you’re a twenty something man, and then he caught a ton of flack for it when he wasn’t even being serious. Look, I know it’s not nice to make fun of that kind of stuff, but when the person started pointing out the lyrics after pointing out how wrong they could sound, I laughed. Becky laughed. None of us take these lyrics that way, but you know how it is when someone points something out? It’s all you can think about. Yeah, I’m the person who finds Uranus funny. What of it?

*Ooh, well fuk thatshit.
Yes, fuk thatshit.

*That was random. Anywho, hot chocolate.

*I should be a lesbian.

Alone, this isn’t funny, but when you realize this is the most used phrase in my entire vocabulary, it takes on a different face.

*Why don’t I just date myself?

*I’m so confused.

Again, not funny, but when you consider I said this at least twenty to twenty five times in one two hour conversation, it kind of develops a personality of its own. Plus, I was talking about boys. They’re confusing, in case you were ever unsure of that. And for the record, “I’m mad,” came in a very close second to things I said the most in this same two hour conversation.

*It wasn’t even a kiss/kiss.

When you all decipher what the hell I was talking about, let me know.

*Anywhomaburger, I’m sorry.

*But I can honestly say, wax is good for your hair. Maybe not that kind of wax, but I’d assume pretty much any kind of wax.

*I want to hug them all.
No matter how creepy.

*It’s so sad, and so funny, but so annoying.
I don’t know where to go on this one.

*I’m so pick about my name(s of characters in my novel.)
But unfortunately not about my typing.

The whole pick, as opposed to picky thing, not a typo, thus why the second part of that IM came along. Get it?

*They’re trying to tell me Twilight is a name for a person.

*So how about the other day I told my mom how funny it is to me that he’s losing his hair at 22, and my mom goes, “You know you’re going gray at 23.”

Yeah, Mom, I know. Thanks for that, though. However, it’s one gray hair here and there and they’re noticeable to virtually no one but someone who is looking for one. Plus, I can color my hair. He can’t re-grow his without plugs, so I still think I win. And I didn’t start graying until a year after he started losing his hair. I get a gold star. Gees...I don’t think he’d be happy to know that apparently this is a game to me. That I won. Ha!

*I want to hug her.
And find a name for this girl. Simultaneously.
I’ll have to keep this conversation, I think.

*It makes me want to change my name.

*BLEACKERS!
Yes, bleackers.

*I’m done caring.

This is my most underused phrase, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren’t. I figured if I was going to point out my most overused, I should also do the flip side. The bottom of the sun, if you will. The moon.

*Maybe you’re dating someone in your sleep and you just don’t know it.

*It’s kinda amuzing.
Amuzing?
Yeah, okay.
That covers it.

I also decided since that amuzing was too good of a word to not come up with a meaning to, therefore, it has been decided by me that it is a mix between amazing and amusing. This should go in Webster's. Just credit me.

*I hope it’s pulled up, but I don’t know why anyone would do that purposely.

I wasn’t going to explain this, but this is concerning Kristin Stewart’s hair at the VMAs. I’m not the only one that went Holy WTF, am I? And yeah, I know it's not pulled up in the back, and I also know she cut it for The Runaways, but that's no reason to have that shitty of a haircut. Period. Who did that to her?

*My soul is crying.
Kristin Stewart as Joan Jett.
Soul = dying.

*And by sing, of course I mean “sing.”

*I mean, it’s the same dance moons.

Yeah, I know that you’re thinking. Moons? Dumb ass! How can you not catch that? It’s moves. MOVES! M-O-V-E-S! Well, I’m putting this on here because no one caught it. Not even me. Not until I was going through my IMs for stuff for the blog. I think I found a winner. And by winner, I mean loser.

*Were they whores?
Look, I have no idea why I asked that.

*It’s like when someone says Uranus.
You laugh.

Yeah, see. I told you I was one of “those” people, but at least I warned you. Now there’s proof.

*It involves a snake.
A very large snake.

And then you wonder, what reason would anyone have for saying that? Ever. Well, I’m not going to tell you. Keep wondering.

*Being able to read my own stuff on my own computer is awesome.

*Me: “Don’t be surprised by my errors.”
Becky 3: “So the usual, then?”
Me: “Yeah, pretty much.”

*Apparently I’m just a dumb ass?

*The fraternal order of the accident kid.

*Vrendon.

Look, no one gets this except Becky 3, me and Vrendon, whose name isn’t actually Vrendon, but it’s been passed on that we’re now calling him Vrendon. It was a typo at first, and then we found a reason for why that name would work for him. I would explain why, but I really think this would get me in trouble with my mom and Aunt Bev who read this blog, so I won’t. But let me just tell you, it's funny.

*What’s sad is he thinks he can dance.
I mean, he really, really does.
I mean, I’m sure he’s seen himself dance.
How can you watch that and still think you can dance?
HOW!?

This is, coincidentally enough, about Vrendon, but yet has nothing to do with why we are calling him that and everything to do with it all the same.

*I need to not live in Western Pennsylvania. It’s killing my brain cells.

*Someone’s like. “Please, please write a story.” Only, it was a really good, coherent e-mail.
I appreciate that the person was a coherent writer.

Look, I get coherent e-mails regarding my stories about once every blue moon. Yeah...

*By the way, if I rant about pillows tonight, I’m sorry.

*And Aunt Bev and I decided we’re taking over the film industry, and we also decided I should be a lesbian, because boys aren’t worth it.

I had an awesome three and a half hour conversation with Aunt Bev the other day, and we were hard core talking television shows and boys. She’s in her sixties, so this is awesome. But anyway, in the process of doing so, we decided we knew what was best for CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, and it wasn’t Riley or Langston, and that the show would have been much better last year had they let us do the casting. Then we got into other shows that would have been better with our touch added, even though I can’t remember which ones. This was followed by us both agreeing boys suck and they never grow up, and that we understand why woman are lesbians, and we would totally be, too, if we didn’t like boys. Why must we like boys? Damn you, boys.

*OH! OH! OH! OH! Speaking of: Aunt Bev asked my mom to marry her when she gets divorced, but only if she can be the husband. And oh, she's not a lesbian.

I wish I was kidding. This came out while my mom and I were visiting my grandma in the hospital and talking about my previously aforementioned three and a half hour phone conversation with Aunt Bev. I also wish I was kidding, but I was not. Grandma laughed. Yep, that’s how my grandma rolls, AND she thinks we’re entertaining. So that point she earned from laughing, it’s gone now.

*Then today my mom asked my Grandma is she had a goal age she wanted to live to, or if she was okay dying at any time.

No, really. She did. Only it was more like, “do you have a certain age you’re trying to get to,” like it was some kind of contest or race. Grandma laughed. Again, there goes more points. If you were wondering, Grandma said no, she could die tomorrow and wouldn’t care, but she doesn’t want to die. There, she got two more points, so she’s even again, in case you’re keeping score and I’ve confused you, which is probably definite on the confusing part, but not the keeping score part.

*Haha. You broke the bowling balls.

*One time Becky and I bowled against a drunk guy. Our scores together weren’t as good as his score.

True freaking story, and no, this IM has nothing to do with the direct previous one. I’m a little sad about that, actually. But seriously, you guys, one time Becky and I went bowling with Dustin, he had a few drinks, bowled awesome, and we both didn’t even bowl one hundred together. Then we played another game. We still didn’t break one hundred. He still did awesome. We suck, yes. Maybe we should bowl drunk? Yeah, that’s it. We don’t really drink, so we’ll make it a goal to only drink or get drunk while bowling, and then have a designated driver. Oh, and the worst part of the night? The kid bowling directly next to us bowled a perfect game. It’s probably true that we should never bowl again, as we only make a mockery of ourselves, but we have more fun losing, than winners do winning. Trust me. Then I texted her this with a great idea that goes right on along with this.

*I was wondering if you wanted to go bowling later. I figured between the two of us, we could maybe bowl one hundred.

She had to decline to take her brother to Boy Scouts. See later explanation of that in the texts portion of this blog.

*Gosh. Gees. I talk English about as well as someone who doesn’t speak English at all.

Yep, I talk English. Awesome. I’m actually very literate in the English language, I just don’t pay attention to what I’m typing.

*Becky 3: “Hence why I want to hurt him.”
Me: “And I’ll help. Gladly.”
Becky 3: “Thank you.”
Me: “Oh, no, no. Thank YOU.”

Again, I don’t promote violence. This was a PSA from Amy. Thank you.

*I wanna go pushing 30.

*Is that a bad camera angle, or is there something wrong with his face? Yes, I know how that sounds, but I refuse to take it back.

By the way, said person is actually very, very good looking, so to see a bad picture of him was slightly appalling. To this day we don’t know if it was a bad camera angle, or if he just really looks different since we saw him last. And by different, I unfortunately mean not so cute. But I don’t know how he can not be cute. This stumps me. If he’s no longer cute, the world as I know it has ended. However, we were able to surmise that the following IM may very well have something to do with the reasoning why he looks a little less adorable.

*Sadly, I think it’s because it’s getting more and more obvious that his hair is become less and less of a friend to him.

Becky 3 agreed. Mystery solved? For now.

*I just wanna, like...adopt him.

*And all I can imagine is the 28DD falling tit over ass and then yelling, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

Ladies, this is the only reason you ever need to not have breast implants if you’re but a tiny, tiny little thing. Okay? Because if this happens, I will laugh at you. And no, I will not help you up, but I will be glad to stand by and laugh hysterically as someone else does. If someone else does. Oh, and I will point. Relentlessly.

*“Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but you put up with me when my own friend wouldn’t, so I’m doing you a favor.”

I’m also doing all of you a favor by not explaining this. I’ll just let you laugh.

*I’m going somewhere wit this.
Yes, wit.
I’m decisively a rapper now.

In bad taste, or true? You decide.

*Don’t you love when I’m Little Miss Helpy Helperton, only not really?

*I remember when I first met Brendon and he’s like, “Okay, I think I was told wrong. You’re supposed to be older than me.” And I’m like, “No, I am.” And he goes, “Do you have ID?”

Yes, he went there. And yes, I did pull out my ID. And no, he still didn’t know what to think of me being older than him. This is still funny to me a year and a half later.

*I feel like I totally veered far away from the subject.
Everything’s normal, I guess.

*He’s the only one with enough money to bail us out, cause knowing Brendon, we’ll all be held at some really astronomical amount.

You have to know Brendon. That’s all I’m saying about this.

And now we shall move on to the IMs that I feel the need to explain and tell stories about pre-posting, or else they’re going to end up in a total jumble since there’s several that go together. Ready? Go!

- All of my life I have tended to attract people with the same name. I go through phases where I know several people of the same name, and then I lose touch, no longer know anyone with that particular name, and then meet a bunch of people with the same name that’s different from the previous name, and all within a few months. Yeah, if you followed that, you get a gold star. Currently, I know three Beckys. THREE! I’ve also met and befriended people with the same name as me. Because of this, I’ve been forced to number my people of the same name, thus why I have a Becky 1, who goes by just Becky, Becky 2 and Becky 3. I promise that I’m not discriminating. I’ve numbered them by who I met first, but I’ve numbered them none the less and have also been a number. It gets very confusing...and other theories on this subject.

*People with the same name just flock to me.

*By now I just figure once I marry someone, I’m going to meet at least nine people with the same name as him, but not until after I marry him and am pregnant. That way there ends up being a huge mix up because I know so many people with the same name, and he thinks I’m cheating on him.

Just waiting for it to happen, really. It seems like destiny. A bad destiny, but I don’t see how I’m going to avoid it considering my life’s sense of humor.

*I mean, if you’re just Amy or Becky, you’re boring. But start adding ones and twos, (threes even) you suddenly become awesome beyond human belief.

That’s how I like to think of it. You can’t tell me otherwise. I won’t listen. Also, the following may seem like it doesn’t go along with this subject, but it does. Just hang in there.

*The other day I’m like, “Becky, are you taking a sweatshirt?” And she goes, “I wasn’t going to.” And I’m like, “But it’s chilly.” So she grabs one and an hour later when she’s wearing it she goes, “I’m so glad you’re my mommy.”

Yes, I sound like a valley girl when I explain conversations to others online. I could avoid sounding that way, but that shit takes time. Time I do not have. So I improvise and then share. All my friends joke that I’m everyone’s mommy, so much so that it’s no longer a joke. To back this, I give you the next IM.

*I have three daughters. Their names are Becky, and I have given birth to none, but they are all younger than me. None by more than a year.

See? It all goes together. This is ever so sad. Is it not?

- Some people are idiots. Other people care about those idiots even though they clearly know they're idiots, and then get angry, and hurt, then angry again, and then it just becomes funny. I’m the latter. These are the texts to prove it.

*If I see him with that girl I’m going to text him something horribly mean.
While he’s there. (With her.)
That’s kinda not cool.

But at least I know that. And did I text this person anyway? Seriously...was there ever the question that I wouldn’t do it anyway?

*And I know him. It’s on vibrate.

*Let me have a drink.
And then angry text him.
I don’t get drunk.
I just say things a lot meaner when I drink.

Which is virtually never. Or maybe that’s why I don’t drink.

*I just have to decide what I’m texting.
It will be angry.
It’s delightful.

*Me: “Do I have to be classy about this?”
Becky 3: “Yes.”
Me: “Fuck."
"Can’t I just say what I want for once?”

Her answer to that, by the way, was no. No! Gah, I need to stop caring and start using that phrase more.

*He’s back with Sarah.
Which is “special.”

*Can’t someone smack him?

*I think people let him do what he wants and don’t tell him he’s being an idiot. And EVERYONE needs that once in awhile.

-Becky 3 regaled me with a story of a teacher she used to have, who was just beyond awesome. He had a good sense of humor and cracked only her up and not the rest of the class, because she’s one of those people who laughs at Uranus as well. He seemed all kinds of fun and one of those people I totally want to know, and then she expressed that he only wore black, but one day wore a bright yellow shirt and black pants. This made him so awesome that the following ensued.

*AHAHA! HE WAS A BUMBLEBEE!

Mature? No. True? Yes. Check.

*Is he married?

Yeah, because this phrase should totally follow her telling me he dressed like a bumblebee. Totally follow it. That’s totally normal. Pretend with me, will ya?

*Ask him if he’s still married, as your friend wants to know.
Okay, don’t do that.

*If he dresses like a bumblebee, we’re going to redecorate his classroom in bumblebee posters.

*Oh dude, I would have been with you, only I think I woulda laughed and then looked around like someone else did it.

Because that always works. But see, I told you she was the only one who laughed at said teacher's humor.

*Hi, Professor, I spent thousands to just chill with you. Can’t we just be friends? It’s cheaper?

Becky 3 said she was tempted to take one of his other courses although she’s graduated and has a job, just because she liked him so much. I told her they should be friends. The conversation above happened when I expressed to her just how I would go about trying to be friends with him. What can I say? I’m straight forward. It never works. Ever.

-As I’ve recently mentioned, I rarely pay attention when I’m typing in an IM box, as I’m usually doing nine other things so I just type as quickly as I can to get back out of the window again. Aren’t I delightful? No? Anyway...I’ll try not to take offense to that, you readers, you, as I move on.

I’ve since learned that I’m hardly the only one who does this. Now, maybe it’s just my friends who make awesome errors, but that’s why they’re my friends. And the other night, Becky 3 proved even more just how awesome she is by making the word did into idd, to which I fought back by making the into hte, but not on purpose. Then we decided the typos should be friends, and she instructed them to do so. Insanity ensued.

*Becky 3: “Hte, say hi to idd. You’re both mistakes. Oh wait, was that mean?”
Me: “No. No it was not. Well, okay, it’s not wrong, but maybe a bit insensitive to tell them. Hte and idd might have feelings.”
Becky 3: “I’m sorry idd and hte. Oh god, I’m talking to typos. What is wrong here?”
Me: “Nothing. I see nothing wrong.”

And then it escalated when I tried to make the situation better, which, let’s face it, it wasn’t getting any better, and then made another typo.

*Ooh, yse is totally hte and idd’s kid. Illegitimate, of course. Idd bred with awesoke.

Okay, first of all, yes, I went there. I made typos cheat on each other, but only after Becky 3 talked to them and I told her it was okay. Also, awesoke is obviously a typo for awesome, or not so obviously if you watch what you’re typing and don’t make nine millions errors and hour. It happened years ago. Another friend did it. It stuck. End of story.

-I don’t know how many of you watch Psych, but last Friday was a very special Pysch. Very special, I say. So special that it got IMs.

*That’s my Bollywood contribution to Friday’s Psych.

The only thing funny about this, is that I have no idea what the hell I was talking about, or what I contributed. That’s probably not a coincidence.

*The Psych theme song made me want to sing Benny Lava.

Does anyone know the actual name to this song, who sings it, or what they’re really saying? Didn’t think so.

Now we have texts and stories. Which could make an awesome song. Put it to “Hallelujah.” Go ahead. TEXTS AND STORIES! TEXTS AND STORIES! Wow, I don’t hear singing. Y’all aren’t that fun. Just kidding. I know I can’t hear you sing through the computer screen. Gees, I’m not stupid.

*Coffee is my alcohol. I am no longer responsible for my actions.

*Let’s make fake accounts, friend our fake accounts, and keep taking each other’s quizzes and then our own.

Beck and I are that desperate for people to take our Facebook quiz. We did not make fake accounts, though. Well, I didn’t, because I’m not really down with Facebook, but who knows what Becky did. Anything is possible with her awesomeness.

*Boobless in La.

*I’d like to say my cat stepped on my phone and sent you a blank text, but no. It was me.

*I need to either stop watching Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami, or not admit to it.

Okay, look you guys, I like the show. I adore the heck out of Khloe and would so be her BFF if possible. She says the most inappropriate things and is beyond awesome, so even if I wanted to stop watching, which I don’t, I couldn’t anyway, because it’s ignorant to stop watching your BFF that doesn’t know she’s your BFF.

*FB? We’re not driving to the Facebook headquarters, are we? Do I need to pack?

*What! It lies! LIESSSSS!

I wish I could remember what the elusive it was. If I could, I promise I would tell you. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, probably not.

*Troll! OMG! Did Mimi from The Drew Cary Show go to Wal-Mart?

*My 80 something Great Aunt threatened to hot my 60 something other Great Aunt. My family is a circus, but at least it’s funny.
And by hot, I mean hit.

True freaking story. Anyone want to adopt me?

*I’m pretty sure the movie Run, Ronnie, Run is a biopic of Pennsylvanians.

*But I don’t want to go to prison.

*Kourtney: “Aww, look at those two old woman holding hands.” (As friends.) Khloe, “Aww, that’s going to be us in a few years.” Why do I also feel like that’s us, too? Are we that big of losers?

First, don’t answer that until you know who “we” are. Second, “we” are Becky and me. Third, don’t answer that.

*This person doesn’t just suck at Craigslist. They suck at life, too.

*Everyone knows Thursday is the new Saturday, and Friday morning is the new official walk of shame day.

*That’s good, girlfriend. Yeah, I went there.

*Ya! I’m scaring people again.
Do I get an award?
Yes! I’m so on my way to being an awesome gay man. I’ll explain later.

I don’t think that can really be explained, and I have yet to receive said award that I was promised. I’m disappointed and suing.

*This TV movie is rated TV 14. However, it says DSLV, so it has all four, but that’s the highest rating it gets. What constitutes an M? Porn?

Can anyone answer this? This movie was also pegged as a comedy and it definitely wasn’t funny. A girl was kidnapped by a pervert and a teacher got blamed. Yeah...not funny.

*I think I just insinuated she was having sex with products.

*Whatever happened to a good ole, “I have a boyfriend?” “I’m a lesbian.” You know, lying.

Regarding woman who go to overly great lengths and often do really terrible things just to get out of going out with a guy. I understand some guys don’t take no for an answer when you are honest, and that’s when you have to lie. I don’t agree with lying, but sometimes you gotsta do what you gotsta do in order to keep yourself from doing something dumber. Gotsta - See, I’m practicing being a decisive rapper, as previously promoted. Yeah, I know I suck. Don’t throw things. Okay...STOP throwing things. Thank you.

*Mom: “It’s a wonder they don’t make washers for little people so they don’t fall in while trying to get laundry out.”
Me: “They do. They’re called front loaders.”

Okay, before you all go yelling at me for picking on little people, I am not. I would never do that. In fact, one of my favorite people in the entire world is the opposite of tall and I adore her to Heck and back, because Hell isn’t an awesome place to be. There’s a show on called The Little Couple that my mom and I enjoy because they are beyond delightful people. On one of the episodes, the story is told of how the woman fell head first into the washer while trying to get clothes out, so this is where this conversation originated. However, I’ll have you know that my friend assures me front loaders aren’t really any more helpful, so technically we’re back at the drawing board again. And I was wrong. There, I said it.

*Me: “THERE IS SKELANIMALS HALLOWEEN CANDY!!!!!!!”
Becky: “Calm down.”
Me: “Can’t. This is what heaven feels like.”

Look, why she goes shopping with me, I don’t know. Good thing, though. She knew where to find me, as we were shopping on opposite ends of the store and split up. And in case you haven’t guessed, Skelanimals are pretty much the most awesome material thing in my life. Everyone should own at least one hundred pieces of Skelanimals stuff. Just a suggestion.

*LMAO! So you’re saying bouncing is better sans a bra?

P.S. - That was NOT what she was saying. I just can’t read...apparently.

*Today I bought an outfit for my Aunt Bev’s bunny, and I made a card and wrapped it. In my defense, she wanted an outfit to hold it together.

I have no defense here. I realize.

*I’m pretty sure we just passed a guy doing a mid day walk of shame post that-crazy-chick’s-boyfriend beating him up, with an ice pack on his face.

*Love makes people stupid.

*That’s so sweet. In case I never told you, I’m totally cloning you. Guys like you don’t exist anymore. You should teach classes to tools. And by tools, I mean most all other guys.

*Screwing up Ellen (Degenere’s hair) is like screwing up rapping. I don’t get how you do it.

*Macy Gray just made me feel better about my dancing skills, and I don’t have any.

*I love Kelly Osbourne: “My bum just wiggled. I am NOT doing that.”

*”Men are only good for going downstairs with a baseball bat when we think we hear something.”

Look, people. For anyone who's ever said Hannah Montana was not funny, accurate, or even remotely like real life, you lie. LIEEEE!

Kids, today I will bring you texts that happened in series, plus a story.

-A few weeks back Becky got stuck taking her brother to Boy Scouts because her mom wasn't feeling well. This is quite possibly the worst thing ever for a twenty three year old girl, because there’s no hot legal guys there. Only Becky got lucky and some kid we used to go to school with who is our age showed up, and Becky thought he was all kinds of hot. And other texts regarding Boy Scouts.

*My mom says Boy Scouts our age like the little boys. So wrong.

But it was equally agreed between three people that it’s so true. Then it got better, and said aforementioned person showed up.

*Is he at least old enough to hit on without being creepy or illegal?

Check and Check.

*Ooh, hit on him. Do it! Do it NOW!

I was only encouraging...then I got pushy.

*PLAY! PLAY! *Holds up lettered signs like cheerleaders do*

First, I was a cheerleader, so I know they do that, even though I can’t remember if I ever had to. I hope not. Two, I wasn’t encouraging her to play sexually, but now that I think of it, that’s sure what it sounds like, because I don’t remember what I was encouraging her to really do. I think it had to do with him having an awesome truck, but don’t hold me to that. Unless you’re dying for a clean answer to this debacle...then hold me to it.

-Then there’s things that Becky says that I just can’t get out of my head. I don’t know if I really love that, or if it scares the pants off of me. I still have pants, so I’m thinking it has to be the first one by default.

*Becky: “I always expect Debra Messing to have boobs. She doesn’t.”
Me: “We’ll call it: ‘Boobless Woman Who We Always Expect Will Have Voobs.’ Yes, voobs.”

I think this had to do with us deciding we should start a show just for Debra Messing and her non existent boobs, about how Debra Messing has non existent boobs. See, Aunt Bev and I are onto something with taking over the film industry, and now Becky can help. You just wait people. This is going to be so epic that it’s going to be like you’re not even going to want to turn on the TV, which means more exercise. That’s kinda great, right? Right? *Bites nails*

*Becky: “Wow, I just had a staring contest with my dog. I won...I really need help.”

I’ve never had a staring contest with my dog. Am I behind?

There’s a possibility that I’m addicted to my Twitter. It’s like this little tool that I use when something really funny happens and I don’t want to forget it. Most people just store the memory in their brain, but not me. I use technology. I think I’m a Bot.

*Them flies? Gosh, you can tell I’m from Western Pennsylvania.

*I just had a spider pop out at me that was so large, I screamed and then cried while trying to kill it. Scared of spiders: Check.

The best part of this? My mom knew about this gigantic spider and didn’t tell me. She buried it in cat litter thinking it would die by the time I got to it. It didn’t die. Not only that, but even if it did, I still would have screamed and cried because I don’t do well with spiders. That may be the biggest under statement of the year. It’s similar to the one Gilmore Girls where Lorelai traps a spider under a cup, and then Dean, who recently broke up with Rory comes in and asks what’s going on, she tells him and he asks what she’s going with the spider. She then responds: “I was thinking about just giving it the kitchen. We don’t use it much anyway.” Then Dean took the spider outside for her while she yelled and eewed like any woman and a good many men would do, but only while yelling, “And don’t let its family see you. Spiders are vindictive.” God, that show is like a biopic of my life, only I’m Lauren Graham's character fifteen years ago and without a kid. Also, I ended up vacuuming up the spider, in case you were wondering. This is a monument to my chicken shit-ness.

*I think I just got owned by my Twitter. I was changing my main picture and it suddenly pops up and goes “NO MORE PICTURE FOR YOU.”

I felt like I was in the army and it just found my contraband of Pixie Sticks. Gees. Twitter, play nicer with others.

*Dear filling that fell out of my tooth, Come back?

Despite asking, it did not. I had to get a new one. I was severely disappointed that our friendship was forced to end after only a few months. I was starting to like that filling, too.

*Hey! I can hear you crunching way over here! Shh!

*Oh yeah, he’s “special.” He resold me on the not being gay thing. He’s just screwing with me now. I didn’t rhyme.

No reason to explain the I didn’t rhyme thing, but I will explain the rest. This “special” person whose sexuality is hanging in the balance, is also the person who was back with Sarah, and that was “special.” As you can see, “special” seems to be this person’s forte.

*They were trying to smuggle cocaine, right? Not actual Coke? Because if it was actual Coke, I just peed a little.

This was a private direct message conversation through Twitter, but way too good not to share. She typed Coke and we were talking about actual Coke, but alas, she meant cocaine. I don’t know if I was really bummed out and felt let down by this, or more amused that it wasn’t Coke. I’m still deciding.

-Okay, story time Twitter style. As you’ve probably gathered from the previous, Becky and I went shopping a few weeks ago. The funny wasn’t so much in the shopping, as the hilarity of taking her brother to his girlfriend's house. Yes, this is Nate. The same brother who is getting married before us. First we were taking him, then we weren’t, then we were, then we weren’t, but alas we ended up taking him. We loaded in the car, he put his headphones on, we cranked the T-Swift and sang our hearts out, not realizing he could hear us, or was paying attention from the backseat. But he was.

*Me: “We should roll down the windows and sing obnoxiously loud.”
Nate: “NO!”

We listened to him. We, two twenty three year olds who like to cause trouble, and by trouble I mean we like to do really funny things that are only funny to us and can’t in any way get us arrested, listened to him. We should have done it. We should have just wound down the windows and done it. However, we must have been singing / talking pretty loud for him to of heard us say that over his Ipod.

*Becky’s brother is blowing bubbles out the window. Awesome.

All of a sudden Becky started politely freaking out as she was seeing something out her side window and couldn’t figure out what was going on. She then caught Nate in her rear view mirror blowing bubbles. Why she had a thing of bubbles in her car is anyone’s guess. However, it didn’t shock me. We’ve either known each other for too long, or we’re really that weird. Both of us. Together. And Nate is the only sane one. Nah.

*I am now one of those people who picsk on high school kids for thinking they’re, “too cool.” I never liked those people. Awesome.

This goes back to before we left, and Nate got off his bus with no backpack, carrying his books. Becky asked him where his backpack was, he said he didn’t take one, and the taunting ensued. He walked away, went in his bedroom, shut the door and changed clothes. Clearly he’s the smarter one out of all of us.

Last but not least, we have general story time, with a mixture of IMs, Tweets and texts that go ever so swimmingly along with this.

-Have you ever met those young people who really want to get married and have a family, only they want to do it on their own terms where they can still have a their own life and a relationship? Then all their friends get married around them and their friends never wanted to get married and have families? Yeah. I’m one of those people. When you’re one of those people, this is what happens.

*OMG! I found the person I’m marrying!
Whomever wrapped him in this blanket so he can’t move...I’m marrying.

This probably needs explained, but I won’t add the picture and leave this to the imagination, assuming you all still have imaginations. If not, you can borrow my very actively creative one. Let me just set up the picture for you. It’s a person wrapped like a sardine in a blanket and looking very sad because they’re unable to move and literally stuck in the blanket until someone comes and unwraps them. The person who did that to other certain ADHD person...I heart.

And then I changed my mind upon finding this entry on Texts From Last Night. This is an exact copy and paste.

(402): lol whn u cming hre I nd 2 c ur fce.
(I-402): IF YOU TEXT ME ONE MORE SHORTENED VERSION OF A WORD, THE ONLY THING YOU’LL SEE IS MY FIRST IN YOUR FACE.

*HAHA! I love it!
Maybe I should marry them instead.

I think it’s a given that I should marry them instead. I hate people who abbr. things and leave out vwls. Dnt u?

- And then when I was done finding non fictional people who I didn’t know to marry, my friend and I sulked over people around us getting married. You know, it’s what normal twenty somethings do with their Saturday and Sunday nights. It’s not...is it?

*We’re both like QUIT GETTING MARRIED!

And then, after we sulked about not being married and realized we’re the only two people we know who really want to be married, and we’re each of the opposite sex, and he announced he was tired of having sex with himself, it was a natural segue way into the following.

*Me: “On behalf of your very tired hand, I am offering to take over in exchange for a wedding and a kid. Thoughts?”
Him: “Date? Time? Wedding planner we’re using?”

Later the friend who introduced us found out about this and decided we were absolutely the most hilarious people he knew separate, and together we were killing him. He also decided I need to live where they live just so we could hang out together all the time and he could have entertainment. There were also mentions of him paying me to make sure said person didn’t leave the house with a seventies hairdo and ugly clothing, but I don’t think it’s possible to rip all the ugly away from him.

-I have a favorite show that’s not a new favorite show, but it feels new because I was so busy watching CSI the past few seasons, that I missed this show just because it was on at the exact same time and I can’t watch two things at once. Then I caught a re-run of this show the other night, and now I’m hooked all over again and trying to decide if I will watch CSI tonight (I did), or if I will watch it (I didn't). And by it I mean Supernatural. I’ve been watching my box sets of the first two seasons, which are the only ones I own, just because it makes me happy...and happy sparks all kinds of conversations. Ta da! I now present them to you.

*I hear country music and I think I specifically hear it playing in a scene of Supernatural, as Dean drives his Impala down the open roads of Kansas.

This is great that I do this, because I really do, but Dean only listens to 70’s music and it’s rare they’re even driving through Kansas, even though that’s where they’re from, as they road trip all over the nation. However, the Impala is bitchin', and the guy who plays Dean is a huge fan of country music and a singer, plus does theater, so you can see why I see him, think country music, and then automatically put it to the role I know him from. Right?

*You know when you’re having a bad day and you don’t feel like doing anything, and you’re like, “Fuck, what should I watch?” Because you know you’re going to eat a whole tub of ice cream in your pajamas? Well, that show wins because it has a cute guy in it.

Two, actually, but one is cuter than the other. Sorry, Jared. But really, as a girl, we totally do this. When life sucks, you don’t feel like doing anything, are bummed out, and just wanna pass time, you always go for shows with hot guys. Don’t tell me that’s just me. I know it’s not.

*Dean just had an entire conversation with a scarecrow and then went, “Dude, you fugly,” and walked away.

Maybe I’m looking at this marriage thing wrong. Can you marry a fictional character on a television show? What do you mean no?

*Good line: "God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work.”

Although a Supernatural quote, so true. This just goes to show that the show is both, very funny, and crudely honest.

*Dean: “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Sam: “No.”
Dean: “Good, because that would be awkward.”

Yep, actually texted those lines to someone.

*I should probably stop watching Supernatural when my mom goes to bed, as everyone screams on there, and one day I’ll scream because something is wrong and she’ll just think I’m watching Supernatural.

Hey, good news. She assures me once she’s sleeping, she’s out, so even if I did scream, she wouldn’t hear me. Problem solved. Err...remind things to never go wrong after she goes to bed. Or make sure no spiders come around. Thanks.

*Ah. See, I thought you watched it. Short explanation, Jo’s in love with Dean, and Dean with her, although he won’t admit it. And Ellen, Jo’s mom, is close to Dean. But Jo’s possessed and attacking her mom and Sam, Dean’s brother, and there doesn’t seem to be another option but to kill her. And I think the worst part of this is that I’m managing to follow this bullhookey.

No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part was that I was on the edge of my seat enjoying ever minute of it. The things I admit to...I should not be allowed to have a blog.

*“There’s two things I know for sure. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: I’m not letting you die a virgin.”

Said by a guy to a guy. You guys - pun intended - why are you not watching this show?

*This awesome lady just said, “your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man.” Then she looks at Dean and walks away.

Listen, Dean is a big guy...with moobs, and he was in a tight shirt. But I should explain they're good moobs. Like, the sexy man moobs. See? You're freaking welcome for the picture, by the way. Okay...now that you all understand that. Moobs aren’t always bad on a man. Just usually.

-Did you ever have one of those friends who has the same exact sense of humor as you, only this is really bad because you know eventually it’s going to get you arrested, but you laugh anyway? And other texts between me and that person.

*Me: “Babe, how does it take one twelve hours to get home on a four hour drive?”
Him: “One decides to gamble before leaving Vegas, and then gets lost on the way home from taking a ‘shortcut.” Mrs. GPS told me to do it.”

Only he was serious. Twelve hours on a four hour drive. TWELVE HOURS on a FOUR HOUR drive. How do I attract these people who have a worse sense of direction than me? Okay, actually mine’s pretty good, so a good many people actually have a worse sense of direction than me, but still. In case this wasn’t clear, it took him TWELVE HOURS to get home when it should have taken him FOUR! And he does this drive often. He KNOWS these roads. *Shakes head*

*Me: "Why was one drunken texting me while driving home?”
Him: “One was not drunk. One was gambling. While texting. It has the same effect.”
Me: “Good to know.”

So now when I go gambling with my mom and Charlene like they’ve been asking me to do, I know that I can act like I’m obliterated and it’s totally okay because no one will think I’m drunk or anything. Everyone will understand that I’m just gambling. Right...glad that’s all cleared up.

-Sometimes you just have those people who don’t go away. Then you don’t know how to get them to go away. They can’t take a hint. They can’t take a direct quote. They just stick to you like white on rice. Or blue on blue crayon. Yeah, okay, I apologize for that last one. Anyway, then one person comes along covered in white light with the saving grace of the day, and you could swear they were an angel from above, or a superhero. That person became Becky, and the following is a play by play of her angelic superhero-ness.

*I just realized I’m forever indebted to you. I’ve had the same person text me almost thirty times, and call me six since a little after nine, all of which I’ve ignored. But it’s not stopping and I was trying to find the perfect thing to say to them. I think “You’re evicking siegelnvs,” covers it with a certain grandeur that I could not have produced on my own.

In all fairness, this could totally be filed under typos, but this wasn’t my typo. While Becky was on Texts From Last Night, she discovered a text where someone said “This is evicking siegelnvs,” to which the other person replied, “I’m sorry?” Then it was cleared up when the first person said “this is fucking ridiculous.” So it’s obvious the first person meant to type fucking ridiculous and failed on a monumental scale. Maybe I should marry them. Oh, the options of marriage to people I don’t know are so endless. To further understand why she was such a saving grace, I will take you through my previous thought process of such.

*I was tempted to ask my friend how you swear at someone in German, and then I remembered he (the person I was going to swear in German to) DOES speak German, so it wouldn’t be fun.

I also remembered he would be the person I was asking how to swear in German, as he’s fluent in it. This defeated the non important purpose. The goal here was to ultimately come up with something to say to him that would stun him so badly that he would have no idea what I was saying, but because he has a lot of pride, would not say anything to me because he thinks he’s the one who is missing something or undereducated, and then he would proceed to spend hours googling my mumbo jumbo just to figure out what was going on. He does this, and it would be the perfect revenge. Then evicking siegelnvs came along and saved my day like this.

*Knowing he’d think I was swearing at him in another language and not ask me what it meant.
And he didn’t.

So yes, if you were wondering, evicking siegelnvs works. Thanks to superhero Becky, my mission was now accomplished. And we all lived happily ever after.