If It All Comes Out In the Wash, I Just Dyed My Clothes Pink

Naturally, I come bearing the important news of the world and know how to keep you up to date with current events. Yeah, okay, I'm kidding, but I do have some fun things to share with the great world wide web. And by great world wide web, I mean my whole five readers, and that may be being generous, but I love all of you and am totally okay with that.

As a girl, I would like to start out by talking about age. Is age really just a number? I think it is, personally. Just because you are a certain age does not mean there's anything backing the fact that this is as such. Sometimes a twenty something acts more like a sixteen year old, while others act ninety. Let me give you all an example.

The other day I was at the doctor. I know you're all shocked by this because I am usually the pillar of health. I mean, just read anywhere on this blog and you'll see that I never have to go to the doctor because I don't at all have an autoimmune disease and a heart problem.

I am such a bad liar. Keep stock in knowing I could never even lie to you, folks. Not even over the internet. That's how bad of a liar I am.

Anywhomaburger, back to the subject at hand. While I was at the doctor we were discussing my blood disorder, dizzy spells and an ongoing issue I've had with my back for the last six months, one in which no one has seemed to be able to resolve. To make a long story short, I can now say I am the proud wearer of support hose for my blood condition, and a donut for my back. So as I type, I am rocking my support hose and sitting on my donut. At twenty four, I'm not sure how it gets much cooler than that.

I'm lying again, of course, but I'm totally okay with being a little old lady. I think it's hysterical, to be honest. I am just not your average girl. No, I am now twenty four going on ninety. So really, where does age come in? If you read this blog and didn't know my age, but knew I was sitting on a donut while wearing support hose, how old would you think I was? What's that, you say? Ninety. Okay, since we're settled on the age of ninety, let me bring something else up.

I am in love with the new Taylor Swift line of greeting cards. As we all know, I love cute things and this is precisely why I love Taylor in the first place. She is cute, her songs are cute and I love all things cute. Then, there's her lyrics. She has learned more in her short life than I have in my also short, but little bit longer one. She writes the lyrics of someone who has seen worlds that don't belong and come out on the other side of paradise. In other words, the woman knows what she's talking about and could otherwise be thought of as well into her twenties if her real age wasn't known. I, on the other hand, am instantly sixteen for loving her cards as much as I do. And there may or may not have been an incident of loud excitement and a little bit of jumping in the middle of Rite Aid upon realizing she actually had a card line, because I am so cool that I totally read it on the internet first.

This is another lie. I didn't know she had a line of cards until I saw them right there in the middle of the store. For those of you who also have not seen her card line, you can get a little taste here. If that's not enough, let me just say her cards represent her style, her lyrics and her new video for Fifteen.

Now let's go back to age. As mentioned earlier, I am ninety, but let's factor in how I am now sixteen for liking Taylor's cards so much. I just want to know how old this now makes me. How do you round off that age and figure it all out in the wash, so to speak? Because, damn it, I just want to know how old really am.

On a better note, my joke for years has been that I will get married when I'm ninety and in a nursing home, so if I am really old what with my donut and support hose, this means I am that much closer to getting married. I guess I should start scoping out nursing homes to make sure I find the "cool" one. This begs the question, are there any cool nursing homes?

I would also like to tell you all that the real win in sitting on a donut, however, is that I suddenly fill like Hugh Normous from the Wizards of Waverly Place. Let me explain for those of you who aren't familiar with a children's show. Hugh was adopted and grew up with a family of giants, but he, however, is not a giant. He is but a normal sized person, and this bums Hugh out, because he wants to be a giant. To combat this, his giant parents buy everything super small for him, that way he feels large. His glasses are too small, his pencils, his backpack; you name it, it's too small.

I, on the other hand, buy things that fit me just right. I have a Goldilocks complex. Then I sat on a donut and my world fell down around me. I always use my laptop while sitting on the couch because I don't have a desk dedicated to laptop time. I simply spread out with my laptop on the coffee table. This normally works great, except now the donut has lifted me up about four inches above where I normally sit, and I end up hunched over my computer in a little ball while trying to type with it on the coffee table. I feel like Hugh Normous. I think this is plausibly acceptable.

For those of you who don't know, I have a very fat cat. She is healthy, but fat. Fat may be an understatement. Her name is also Pie, which just happens to fit her so perfectly. She was named when she was but a skinny little kitten. It's like we knew. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is we have a cat door that goes into the cat room, which is also our second bathroom. We keep the door shut so the dogs don't eat the cat's food, and up until now no one has had an issue getting in and out of the cat door. Not even Pie. That was until a few days ago. Now Pie can not get in and out of the cat door, and we're really not nice enough to not bust out laughing every time she stands there and paws and screams at the door because she wants us to let her out or in. She's not even our biggest cat, just the fattest. We have other cats that are not fat, but larger than her and they get in and out just fine. Pie needs to go on a diet.

My friend's brother has gone on vacation and left him alone for a week in a house that is owned by his brother, but he also shares with him. On his first full day alone things were going amazingly well. That was until his brother's friend texted him and asked if she could come over and pick something up that she had left there. My friend said sure, they arranged a time and he went to take a nap. He set his alarm, woke up and started getting ready to go out with his very own friend and get ice cream, while waiting for his brother's friend to come pick up whatever she wanted. Only she didn't come. So he contacted her and asked her what was up since he needed to leave. Turns out she had already come, got in the house, got what she wanted and left...all while he was asleep. This freaked him out, and naturally it should. In fact, he even texted her and asked her if what she came to take was his sense of security. I think this is accurate. I mean, that's creepy; someone sneaking into your house while you're asleep and you having no idea how they got in and out, far more how they did it while you slept. He is now concerned his underthings will go missing one night and he'll never know who did it or when.

On a better note, despite being bored and now scared to be alone in that house, he decided it would be in his best interest to move so that his brother's crazy friends don't come in and take things while he's asleep. He's surmised that living alone would be better than being alone in someone else's house. When I inquired about this he expressed that he's bored alone but he doesn't miss his brother. I think this sums up all the reasons I adore him in a nutshell.

I have Sprint cell service. I love Sprint and had a good run with their people in customer service. Every time I called I got someone foreign who spoke better English than most people I knew and didn't sound like they were reading from a script. They gave exceptional service and were friendly. Then I called the other day and got an American guy. I repeated my user name and password to him four times, which really was my name and birth date; info he already had. After the fourth time he put me on hold and went and got a supervisor. Five minutes later he came back and repeated my user name and password, claiming he couldn't get in. He still had it wrong. He then expressed that if I cared to repeat my information one time, he would type it while I said it this time to assure he got it right. I was embarrassed because I thought that had been what he was doing, but suddenly didn't wonder so much why he kept incorrectly putting my information in. He did get it right after he typed as I spoke, or I assumed so because he said, "that time it worked." This was followed immediately by, "oh, oh no, let me put you on hold again." I hung up because I didn't have all day to continue to repeat things to this guy, which was no offense to him, but quite frankly I missed the foreign people.

Kids here are apparently awesome. Some little girl on the news just said "I know you're going to be jealous, but I got to swim with sea turtles." Touche, little girl, touche. I am jealous. You are right.

On a final note, I changed my layout before hell froze over. I hope you like it!

Backa Backa Backa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My job as an FBI agent?

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

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

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

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

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

My sister.

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

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

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

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

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

Two gay men.

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

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

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

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

“I prefer ‘Evil Genius,’ but thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tune in closer to Easter for a special presentation.

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.