A gentleman and a scholar

Have you ever stared down the face of a Friday afternoon at work and felt like you might be going a tiny amount of insane? Just enough insane that it won’t go noticed for a while, but when each of those tiny amounts add up you will be too far gone to know where they came from?

Yeah. This afternoon is definitely one of the small pinpricks of future insanity.

Will today be the day that I laugh hysterically while jumping over all the desks, and then hurl myself through the glass door and into the cold? Or will I just sit here in silent agony and stare at my computer screen for another three hours, pumping myself full of coffee?

It’s probably the second one, sigh. One day, maybe.

Seriously though, office jobs are the worst. I wish someone would have kicked me when I was in high school/college and told me to go be a park ranger or something.

My favorite teacher, Mr. Pierce, died this week. He was great. He had a dry, sarcastic wit that I loved…and that was very familiar to me as I grew up in a household with the same kind of humor (thanks, Dad). Everyone loved Mr. Pierce though, because he was different than most teachers. He talked to us like adults, and not like the bratty ass high school kids we were then. The things he taught me stuck with me very well, and made me love English. I already enjoyed writing, but I thought I was really fucking clever and it wasn’t until then that I realized every asshole thinks that way. Mr. Pierce was somehow honest about my writing, while still being encouraging and thoughtful. And funny! So funny.

When Mr. Pierce and Mrs. Kilbane created SITES, it showed another side of him that I didn’t really think about at the time. It was a program for high school seniors that combined English and history curriculum with volunteering. They both showed us the importance of community, and how important it is to serve and help others. I was very happy that they ended up together; they had a strong connection and it showed through the passion they had in their work with SITES.

It was hard to see her crying today.

Although I have had many wonderful teachers since then, he has always been my favorite.

 

“… whatever you live is Life. That is something to remember when you meet the old classmate who says, “Well now, on our last expedition up the Congo-” or the one who says, “Gee, I got the sweetest little wife and three of the swellest kids ever-” You must remember it when you sit in hotel lobbies or lean over bars to talk to the bartender or walk down a dark street at night, in early March, and stare into a lighted window. And remember little Susie has adenoids and the bread is probably burned, and turn up the street, for the time has come to hand me down that walking cane, for I got to catch that midnight train, for all my sin is taken away. For whatever you live is life”

― Robert Penn Warren, All the King’s Men

 

Cakes and Crack

I actually picked this card last week, but I knew I was making cupcakes this week so I saved it. It’s probably cheating, but I made up this stupid thing so I can do what I want. I DO WHAT I WANT.

My co-worker buddy Laura turned 30, so I felt I should mark the occasion with some cakes of the cup variety. Also, I decided to use a recipe I have never used before, so it was fun experiment time. The recipe I used for the cake part was a peanut butter chocolate chip cupcake. I had a bunch of chocolate chips so I thought it would be a good way to use them, and the addition of peanut butter makes everything awesome. I made two frostings based on a recipe from one of the bloggy chicks I like (Sally’s Baking Addiction). One was a peanut butter frosting and the other was a milk chocolate frosting, and you toss them in a piping bag and swirl them together on the cupcake. Looks really sweet, but I was nervous because I’ve tried swirling frostings before and it did not turn out all that well. This time I think it worked, yay.

So the cake part was good…a little dense, but you’ll have that with a lot of peanut butter cakes. Also, the bottoms cooked a lot faster than the inside did, so they were a little brown on the bottom. Still tasty, but I feel like maybe there has to be some sort of adjustment with the temp/time. I’m not a fucking scientist, and I’m too lazy to try and figure it out so I think I will try comparing it to the cake recipe I use for my peanut butter and jelly cupcakes….and just use that one next time with some possible adjustments.

Now the next thing I’m going to say is going to sound crazy to some people. But here it is…I am not really a fan of frosting. I am not even a really big fan of cupcakes other than the fact that they look cute and I like the cake part. So I like trying them, and I like trying different flavor combinations, and I like looking at the cuteness and the colors. But I don’t really like to eat a whole one. When I bake them, I taste test a small piece of one from each batch, and then another piece with the frosting on it when it’s done…but other than that I will only really have one full one, or a half of one just to make sure everything tastes good together before I serve them. Weird, eh? I mean, I’m GLAD I don’t, because with the amount I bake I would be like 700 pounds. I mean, it’s like I’m making tons of meth but I don’t want any meth. Meth addicts be like, “BITCH you got all the meth you want! You so lucky” and I be like, “eh. I’m just not a fan”. Gotta be all Walter White up in that shit. But, it might be good because I doubt drunks make very good bartenders. Oh wait, I know that for a fact because I was one. It did not last long.

Anyway…yeah. Cupcakes. So, the frostings were actually good with this cupcake because they weren’t overly sweet. The peanut butter one is amazing because it’s just like a super fluffy peanut butter, which is delicious. With the swirly time….I was excited because I saw something on the internets that said you can fill two disposable piping bags up with two different frostings, and then put them both in one giant bag with the tip you want to use. I went to get my bags and realized I was out of disposable ones, boo. I have my usual piping bags, but tossing two of them in one just wasn’t going to work because the openings at the bottom are all really big. SO…I decided to rough it and do what the recipe said, and what I’ve tried to do in the past. You have to take one frosting and put it on one side of the bag, and take the other frosting and put it on the other side of the bag. Sounds easy, right? UM. Yeah. If you have ever tried doing anything “neatly” with frosting you know that it’s like, impossible…especially when you are shoving it in a bag with a spatula. But I am impatient so I’m sure others can do this a lot more easily than I can. Anyway, I got both of them in there and filled them up…and I couldn’t believe it but somehow it actually worked, and looked pretty good too. So yeah, bitch.

I took a few pictures. And just so you know, I have the world’s smallest kitchen so the fact that I can actually do anything in there is a fucking feat in itself.

First of all…thank Jesus for this baby gate. You can see my giant puppy looking longingly at all the peanut buttery goodness, but she just can’t get near it. The last thing I need while I bake is a hairy ass dog getting hair all over my kitchen. I am a FREAK about hair and food. I remember my mom would always get so mad at us if we brought a hair brush in the kitchen, and I never understood it until I had my own kitchen and now I am an even bigger freak about it than she was. So I scrubbed the shit out of the kitchen this past weekend, and then my friend put up this baby gate…and now it’s like a whole new place. Tatie is not super happy, and now I have no one to clean my floors with their tongue, but it’s worth it.

Butter and sugar. Amazing things. Although it looks sort of like reverse male genitalia..two buttery pee pees and one giant brown, sugary ball.

Batter before and after peanut butter. It’s like looking at a picture of a hot chick with and without makeup. Looks good either way, but the peanut butter gives it that extra sexy kick.

Before and after baking. They domed up really nice, and my whole house smelled like peanut butter. This after picture makes me want to cuddle with them. Is that weird?

(This is where I should put some pictures of the frostings but I apparently forgot to take them. So just pretend you are looking at frosting right now.)

And…wha-la! Cupcakes. BAM. Peanut butter and chocolate right in your face. Laura seemed happy, and that was the goal so…mission accomplished. Happy birthday poopface!

In Soviet Russia, We Use Snow as Blanket.

“Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them.”
–Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot

 

What could be better in the dead of winter than some 19th-century Russian literature? The best way to feel good about scraping off the ice on your car for a few minutes before going in and making a cup of coffee on your Keurig and sitting in a warm, heated house is to read about the poor fuckers that had to live in old-timey Russia. And we think we’re depressed!I started reading Dostoyevsky’s “The Idiot” quite a few months ago, but with all the books I’ve had to read for school lately it kind of took a backseat. And it isn’t exactly “light reading”. So, a couple of weeks ago I picked it back up …and Prince Myshkin and all my buddies are still there waiting for me.This isn’t going to be a review or some shit like that, because, well for one….it’s like a million years old and a bunch of you have already read it. I am late to the party. Also, I haven’t finished it and I think it’s unfair to judge something until you’ve read the whole thing. I’m actually almost done with it… and I freaking love it. I love how his writing still comes across so well even with the translation. There are probably so many things that get lost when going from one language to another, but the simple style of writing helps to emphasize the real complexities in thought. The conversations between characters, and the characters themselves, are so complicated, entangled, and profound.Prince Myshkin is such a great protagonist. Even though he is thought to be an idiot because of his epilepsy and his naiveté, he really is one of the smartest characters in the novel. His emotional intelligence is far superior to many of the others, and he is an easy person to like and relate to as you follow him through this book. He seems to be surrounded by chaos though, and the story is better for it. He is an innocent man in a corrupt world, which is probably why there are theories on him being reminiscent of Christ. He is just so human; it’s hard for me to really make that comparison…but I suppose Christ would have been human too. Another reason the Christ association isn’t really there for me is because according to the Bible, ol’ JC spoke with authority and people were like, “this dude knows shit”. And while Prince Myshkin does not come across as stupid, he does have a childlike innocence that isn’t exactly the stuff that starts revolutions.

Anyway, my favorite part of this book so far is just the conversations. So simple, yet so philosophical. I have on many occasions read something, smiled, and put down my book to really think about what I just read.

“But how can you tell what seed may have been dropped in his soul for ever by that old general, whom he hasn’t forgotten for twenty years? How can you tell, Bahmutov, what significance such an association of one personality with another may have on the destiny of those associated?…You know it’s a matter of a whole lifetime, an infinite multitude of ramifications hidden from us. The most skllful chess-player, the cleverest of them, can only look a few moves ahead; a French player who could count out ten moves ahead was written about as a marvel. How many moves there are in this, and how much that is unknown to us! In scattering the seed, scattering your “charity”, your kind deeds, you are giving away, in one form or another, part of your personality, and taking into yourself part of another; you are in mutual communion with one another, a little more attention and you will be rewarded with the knowledge of the most unexpected discoveries. You will come at last to look upon your work as a science; it will lay hold of all your life, and may fill up your whole life. On the other hand, all your thoughts, all the seeds scattered by you, perhaps forgotten by you, will grow up and take form. He who has received them from you will hand them on to another. And how can you tell what part you may have in the future determination of the destinies of humanity?”

So good. I mean, if you are looking for something uplifting, this probably isn’t it. If you want to read something that sucks balls, read Fifty Shades of Grey. (And yes, I did read it. You can’t make fun of something you don’t know. I read it, and it is TOTALLY worthy of the “OH MY GOD HOW DID THIS GET PAST THE EDITORS. IN THE HISTORY OF THE WRITTEN WORD THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A BOOK MORE POORLY WRITTEN THAN THIS PIECE OF GARBAGE. IF A FIVE-YEAR OLD KNEW ABOUT S&M THEY COULD WRITE A BETTER NOVEL. AND NOW I AM PICTURING A BOOK ABOUT S&M WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY A 5-YEAR OLD AND IT IS PRETTY HILARIOUS.”) I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea (or vodka), but I feel like a little Dostoyevsky is a good thing, even if it’s only to give you a different perspective.Between that, the Americans, House of Cards, the Siberian wilderness outside, and my Moscow Mule obsession, I feel like I’m super Russia’d up these days. And yes, Moscow Mules are not Russian, and if you make them the way they were invented (with Smirnoff) they certainly are not Russian, but I am using Stoli…so there.do zavtra!

Hearts and shit.

Well…it’s Thursday night. Friday afternoon actually, by the time you fools see this. I’m in just under the wire with this Ten Things crap. Off to a great start!

The first card I picked was….

…and I think this is the perfect way to get this started.

So, Valentine’s Day happened recently. It’s a “holiday” I guess, but I was never particularly that interested in celebrating it. I mean, I appreciate the fact that there is a day that is centered around love, and it gives us a chance to remind our loved ones how important they are to us. And not with chocolate and roses and diamonds, like the day has been bastardized into becoming thanks to the crazy ass consumerism in this country. Instead, it gives us a chance to just think about all the things you love in another person, and to show them that you appreciate them for being who they are. Some people will say “you should do that everyday!”, but sometimes you get a little beaten down with day-to-day stuff that you forget to do that shit. So to the people that say that, I would like to say…there is no way that you practice such perfection, and if you try to object than I will tell you that you are a dirty liar. Because if you had a super exhausting day at work, and then you come home and have to start doing some dishes because you need a dish to eat something with and all of them are dirty and you’re starving.…and after you are done you scoop up a bunch of shit from the drain and as you are about to throw away the super gross chunks with dripping wet hands, you realize that your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/robot lover took the trash out but did not replace the bag…..you are not thinking, “HOLY CRAP I LOVE THIS PERSON SOOOO MUCH”. Some days…some days are trying. So, it’s nice to have a day where you forget all the shit that comes with being with another human and you just focus on the good things.

Anyway, I loved Valentine’s Day as a kid because we got to make those little mailboxes, and when you opened them up you had all sorts of fun valentines and candy and everything was pink and red and pretty. Holidays are so much different when you are a kid. Everything is like, a super fun event. Now it’s like, “oh, it’s Valentine’s Day? Huh.”..and then it’s back to watching Netflix.

To be honest, my favorite Valentine’s Days now are when you stay in with someone you love, cook some good food, and just relax. I did that this year, and it was nice. I do NOT like going to restaurants. Forced couple dinner time is just weird to me. I do understand if you are going somewhere fun and fancy and they have some cool stuff going on I guess. But if you are going to Olive Garden just to go and sit next to another couple who is going just to go…..it’s really stupid and kind of loses some warmth. For me, at least. If you do that and it’s working for you, then who the hell am I to judge. Love it up at the OG.

Okay…now for the Jimmy part (finally). My FAVORITE Valentine’s Day was one that I spent with Jimmy. And I’m not just saying that because he is gone. It was my favorite, and still would be even if he was still with us. One day when I was going to Kent, or soon after I had left Kent….Jimmy and I decided, spur-of-the-moment on a Valentine’s Day, to go to a Kent basketball game. I was single at the time, in my early 20s, and Jimmy was somewhere around 12-13-years old. We were sitting at my parents that morning, and just decided to go. So we got in the old purple Escort and drove down to Kent. I had never been to a college basketball game and neither had he, so it was super fun adventure time. Kent was playing Bowling Green, we bought tickets and sat only a few rows back. He was SO happy! We had some snacks, the game was good…lots of energy and super exciting. Very different than a professional game! Just a tiny gym with some peeps yelling…no crazy super-produced videos playing on a jumbotron or flames shooting out of random shit. It was fun to just feed off the energy of the people around us…we were cheering and jumping out of our seats. And they won, which was great. I remember everyone jumping up and cheering and Jimmy and I looking at each other and I remember thinking, I am SO glad we did this. Anyway, after the game, we were looking at some of the merchandise they were selling…and Jimmy really liked this Gates jersey (Armon Gates was playing for Kent at the time). So I told him that I would buy it for him as his birthday present, since it was coming up at the end of February. It was a little more than I would normally spend…I remember being like, YIKES this thing is expensive…but he was SO excited about it that the sticker shock wore off in like 0.2 seconds. It could have cost 200 dollars and it would have been worth it. When I told him I would get it for him, he lit up and started talking non-stop like he did when he got excited, explaining to me how he couldn’t wait to wear it, and telling me stuff about Gates and how good he was…..it just…it made ME really happy to see him that way. There is really nothing in the world like making a kid happy. It’s intoxicating.

Anyway, we drove home, and I felt so content. It was a real, genuine feeling of happiness. I had a great time, Jimmy had a great time, and we both got to spend the day with someone we loved.

Now that’s a fucking Valentine’s Day.

Ten Things.

Last year was quite a whirlwind. A long-term relationship ended for me, which was intense. New relationships started, and ended again. My heart was broken, and mended, and broken again…and now it’s just..meh. I think it’s like, “DUDE. I’ll keep beating for a while and shit, but I’m sick of you throwing me out there to get fucked with”. Sorry, heart. I never really know what the fuck I’m doing. Also, I moved into my parents house for a few months before getting a place, finding myself on my own once more. I welcomed a new wonderful (and hairy) baby into my home, who has made every day since much more interesting, a little more frustrating…..but lots more cuddly and warm. I became an aunt yet again to another fat little baby who has a smile that is so big it sometimes brings me to tears. And the other fat little baby learned to walk and play, and looking at his little face just fills me up with such happiness it also makes me want to cry.

Another crazy thing is that I am in my last year of graduate school, hopefully getting my Master’s in Public Health at the end of the summer. I know, right? A graphic designer with an MPH? What will that do? Well, I have some ideas but I must say I’m a little freaked out. So…wish me luck. I really just wanted to change the focus in my life to helping others, and with an MPH there is the potential to boost communication between people and communities when it comes to health. I will have a different approach then maybe a registered nurse or an epidemiologist…but I feel like I can do some good, and use the skills I already have in marketing, communication, and design to do so. But…we will see.

And of course…I still miss my brother immensely. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. I don’t cry every day anymore, and now I laugh at thoughts of him more often than burst into tears…so that’s something I guess.

Anyway…with all that going on, the following may be a bit ambitious, but I really would like to start this new thing. I am bad at follow through…but I really need to keep my mind occupied. So, this is the plan. I wrote out ten different things on notecards, and at least once a week I will pull one and do what it says.

Take a picture. Of something. Anything. Other than maybe half-eaten Mexican food or people bending over at Wal-Mart. (yay, I somehow managed to get a mention of Wal-Mart in here!). So something at least semi-interesting.
Create something. This is pretty vague, but that is intentional. I don’t want to say, “paint a picture!” and it ends up being a weekend where I have ten papers to write. I also don’t mean I’ll just tie a few straw wrappers together and be like, “wa-laa, straw paper person!”.
Cook something new. I am obsessed with cookbooks and have a bunch so I think this will be a good way to use them AND improve my cooking skills.
Share music. (Band/album/playlist) or listen to something new.
Do something kind for someone. I should honestly do this all the time anyway.
Share something from the book I’m reading. Another goal of mine is to read more this year, so this will help keep me on track. I’m sure everyone will be interested in 19th century Russian literature, right?
Go somewhere new. New restaurant, new store, new park, new city…whatevs.
Bake a new cupcake. I like messing around with new flavors and combinations….but I will draw the line at meat cupcakes.
Write something about Jimmy. Sometimes I try not to think about him because it makes me so sad. But I think it will help to write out my memories of him..not only with my own grief, but in keeping him alive for others.
Random. If I pick this one, I can choose from the others or just do whatever the f I want.

So, it’s a little cheesy but I think the hardest part about a blog is finding the motivation to write when I don’t necessarily have a focus. I mean, I’m sure people just love hearing people bitch about other people, but even I get bored of that. I’m not saying I won’t bitch about stupid stuff, but at least I will have other things to write about too.

And in no way will this be new age hippie bullshit. Like, I am not going to turn into inspirational poster-sharing chick. F that. “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain”…..um, no. I don’t care if the words are in a fancy font layered over a nice little rainy landscape . Yeah, guess what? Not everyone has the ability to control their situation or surroundings. Some people are dirt fucking poor and everyday does not feel awesome. They are not always able to say, “my gas is going to be turned off…but you know what? I’m not going to worry about how to make sure my kids have heat in the middle of winter. I just wanna dance!”. Some people are severely depressed and it’s really difficult to just look at a picture of a sunset and suddenly start thinking positive thoughts. Every time I see stuff like that I think about someone locked up in a basement being tortured by a psychopath with that poster on the wall. “You are in control of your life. Choose happiness!”. Yeah, I BET the tortured, chained-up person would love to choose happiness! They are like, “you know what? I am in control! Let me just bust out of here and start a new life! Oh wait…I can’t.” And then staring at the inspirational poster becomes a mockery, laughing in their face as they tumble further down a gaping pit of despair, reminding them of how much they long for death.

Photo credit: Andy Sowards

Yeah.

So hopefully I will now update this at least once a week, instead of at the current pace of once a year. Because if I can’t get the crazy out of my head, it just festers inside of me like a lab rat who has been juiced up with some crack and just sits in the corner of the cage scratching himself. That’s my brain, a juiced-up crack rat.

(Also, I know you usually don’t use the word “juice” in reference to crack, but I don’t care. I do what I want. Sheets of crack for everyone.)

In other news, Nikki and Erin and I started our wing tour last night. We are going to try a different wing place on Thursdays (when possible) and rate ’em up. We went to Dina’s on Memphis last night, and it was pretty great. The wings were cooked really well (gotta ask for extra crispy) and the beer was cheap. Most of the sauces we had were delicious, other than their House Hot sauce. Wayyyyy too sweet.Their buffalo sauce was really good. Nothing life-changing, but really well done. Also, I’m a sucker for a dry-rubbed wing (that’s what she said?), and their pepper one was pretty tasty. Also, our server was awesome. Super nice and totally took care of us. Anyway, I would recommend the place. Good stuff.

So there ya go, fools. Life updates, blog changes, new uses for motivational posters, drug references, and some wing recommendations.

Welcome back to Crazy Town.

Who needs hell? I have you.

“‘Hell is other people’ has always been misunderstood. It has been thought that what I meant by that was that our relations with other people are always poisoned, that they are invariably hellish relations. But what I really mean is something totally different. I mean that if relations with someone else are twisted, vitiated, then that other person can only be hell. Why? Because. . . when we think about ourselves, when we try to know ourselves, . . . we use the knowledge of us which other people already have. We judge ourselves with the means other people have and have given us for judging ourselves. Into whatever I say about myself someone else’s judgment always enters. Into whatever I feel within myself someone else’s judgment enters. . . . But that does not at all mean that one cannot have relations with other people. It simply brings out the capital importance of all other people for each one of us.”

JPS is in my brain today. I have quite a few twisted, vitiated relations with people. They are so important in the way I view myself. Which lately, has really fucking sucked.

I understand the absurdity….but I’m stuck.

I also like to say “hell is other people” when I walk into Wal-Mart, even though I know it’s not what Sartre meant. Still, it’s a nice thought when you are staring at someone’s ass crack as they bend over for a 5-pack of Velveeta “cheese”.

(Yes…I am starting off a year-long blog hiatus with a mention of my favorite place. Shocking!)

Anyway, I have been severely depressed, as in, “not wanting to get out of bed and face the day” kind of depressed, so I decided I need to make a list of activities and things to think about that will help keep the depression at bay.

1-I eat real cheese, not cheese “food”.
2-My pants fit, so strangers do not see my ass.
3-Two and a Half Men is apparently ending.
4-Being homeless means I have less bills so more money for booze.
5-Uncle Leo’s eyebrows.
6-Music exists.
7-Some Italian lady once put wide noodles and sauce and meat and ricotta and more cheese together and called it lasagna.
8-The sun is still working and seems to want to hang out with us more lately.
9-My family is fucking amazing.
10-The apocalypse can happen at any time.
11-Activity idea 1: stand in the window at McDonald’s with face and hands pressed against the glass, looking longingly inside, occasionally stepping back to lick lips and rub stomach. This should guarantee at least one jerk will give you a sandwich. When that happens, throw it back and yell, “I DON’T EAT THIS GARBAGE!”.
12-Activity idea 2: when someone wants you to look at their baby, cradle him ever-so-softly in your arms, look down at him lovingly and whisper in a cute cooing baby-talk voice, “Look at you, you little fuckface. Aren’t you just the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever seen! When God made you, it’s like he took a fucking dump inside your mom’s uterus…yeah, yeah he did. Aw, you little son of a bitch”. And then look up at his mom, smile and say, “your kid sucks.”

After finishing both activities, I’m pretty sure I will be reinforcing the idea that hell is the other, realizing that this is my punishment. If I am thinking about myself through their judgement? Yeahhhhhh. Giant jerkface right here….destined to wallow in misery. Also I probably won’t be able to hold children or visit a McDonald’s for a while.

Cloudy with a chance of crazy.

Do I seem really approachable or something? I mean, if you are just a regular wackjob, do I look like a person that you really need to talk to? Because something is going on. I swear, the crazies flock to me. Maybe they can sense their own kind, I don’t know.

The weather has brought on a lot of lunch time walks for me. So I break out of the chains that bind me to my desk and I go strolling around the ‘burbs. And it’s like an alarm sounds in Crazy Town, because as soon as I leave this building, they find me. They find me and they engage me in conversations like we are old bros from college.

A few weeks ago, I was waiting to cross the street near my office, and 40-something surfer-looking dude is standing there. He says hello and I say hello. He of course comments on the weather, and so do I. More weather talk. More short, but polite responses out of me. The little walking guy is lit up so its time to cross, and as far as I’m concerned, this is a good place to stop the conversation. Instead, he looks at me and says, “I’m getting a haircut today”. I honestly don’t know how to respond to this. I am uncomfortable and I hate small talk so I just say, “that’s good?”. Ugh.

Why do I care if you are getting a haircut buddy? And then he proceeds to tell me about his haircut, and how it’s about time he gets one. I don’t know him, and I don’t know what length he usually keeps his hair! I don’t want to look at his hair, I don’t want to talk to him! But he keeps it up. It’s a nice day for a haircut, apparently! Would you look at this weather! It’s time for a haircut. I think I will tell strangers about this.

Finally we cross the street and he says, “have a nice day!”. I say, “good luck with that haircut”.

Then today, I am again waiting to cross the street near Target. I see this crazy looking dude, and I am quickly trying to make the GPS in my head reroute my course and it is malfunctioning. “Rerouting!” I keep screaming in my brain but nothing happens so I stand behind the dude and he OF COURSE says some gibberish to me. I say, “huh?”.

Super white trash guy: “Looks like rain”.
Me: “yeah”
SWTG: “is it calling for rain today?”
Me: (in head-I don’t f’ing know!) “yeah I think so”
SWTG:”let me tell you my life story”

Okay, that last part he did not say, but that is what he proceeds to do. Apparently it was raining in columbus this morning. I don’t know. He lives there? But he works for some boiler place and has to travel a lot. He comes out here once month to the Cleveland area. Blah blah blah.

We are walking across the street. I need to walk PAST Wal-Mart, to my car. I decide to go IN Wal-Mart because it looks like maybe he is walking past it. This turns out to be stupid, because he lets me go before him and I walk in Wal-Mart WITH him. WHEN AM I GOING TO LOSE THIS GUY?? Are we going to pick out drapes together or some shit?? I mean, we just walked across the street together, and past the store…if anyone saw me they would be like, “oh, I saw you walking down the street with the poor man’s Kevin Federline (yes, the poor man’s version if you can imagine that). Is he your new boyfriend?” I mean, we were walking together like we were BFFs.

As we walk in wal-mart (TOGETHER), he asks me what there is to do around here. I say, “this is pretty much it”. And he is like “really?”. Yes. Going to Wal-Mart is all we have to do in cleveland, sorry buddy. Bye.

I say there is a lot to do downtown, but I don’t want to get into detail because I WANT HIM TO GO AWAY. Finally as we hit a spot where he is going left and I am going right he says, “well, it was nice talking to you girl”. I say, “you too”. And then I run for my life out the other exit.

Actually, I pretend I am really interested in bath towels for a few minutes and then I take off.

UGH! Am I being a bitch? Maybe I am. He seemed nice enough I guess. But like, I don’t really want to hang out with strangers. What if he was Jesus you say? And I just wrote a blog bitching about him and when I die Jesus will show me and say, “Real nice krissy. I was in disguise and you were a jerk to me. Not cool.”

But after all the dudes keeping girls locked in basements for ten years shit, I don’t like talking to ANY dudes. No offense, JC. I would make an exception for you but I am honestly too much of an idiot to know which homeless guy you might be pretending to be that day. You made me this way, so hopefully you understand. If I could have some sort of special Jesus-ray vision to see whether or not you are in there, that would help. I’m sure that kind of defeats the whole point though….so…yeah.

Anyway, sorry dudes…but you all creep me out. If you walk towards me, I am going to have a moment of panic. You could barely even know I’m there, you could be helping an old lady behind me cross the street, you could be walking towards a tree to help a trapped little kitten…but for those few minutes when you are walking my way I am terrified. So when you talk to me, all I am thinking of is my escape route.

Even if that escape route leads me back in to Wal-Mart.

Damn you, Wal-Mart.

Delayed Response

So…did I miss something? Were the Browns a part of the draft this year?

Seriously though…whatever. I am good with the Mingo pick. (So rest easy, Banner and the rest of you fools! I know you were waiting on my approval). Honestly I thought they were going to do something dumb, in normal Browns-style, and draft Geno Smith with the sixth pick. Or move up to take someone, which would be stupid because there was so much depth in this draft, and not a lot of freakish talent that screamed “number one pick”. I was sort of hoping for Milliner, but the Mingo pick is fine. And I like the corner we picked up in the third, McFadden. I was even okay with not having a second pick, because I think Josh Gordon was worth it. After that….wtf. Apparently they either already think we are so awesome we don’t need players, or they know we are going to suck this year so they are gearing up for 2014. I’m assuming it’s the latter. Sweet.

I mean, maybe they just didn’t like many people in this draft, but still. It seems weak to me. And then to trade to the STEELERS??? Are you fucking kidding me???????

[Side note: I have promised certain loved ones of mine that I will try to refrain from swearing so much in my blogs. This will not be easy. I have already held back like three times and this post is only a paragraph long. Also, I can’t guarantee the absence of the f-word when referring to the Steelers, but…..I will try.]

To say this again without swearing, why. On. EARTH. Would the browns EVER try to help the Steelers out? I swear if I have to watch that Shamarko Thomas dude lay out our tight ends I will flip. Oh wait…do we have any tight ends anymore?

Ugh. Browns! You get me good. I will lay off though….The Davone Bess thing makes me happy (veteran wide receiver! Who would have thought we needed that other than everyone ever). And on paper things are looking okay. I love that we are sticking with Weeden another year to see what happens, as the QB class was not too stellar this time around so it seemed to make sense. At least until Nassib or Manuel or Smith ends up being the next Tom Brady.

Whatevs. Ol’ Jimmy is probably going to either be broke or in jail, or both, so it probably doesn’t matter. As my dad says, then he will let his son run it, who will have no interest in football, and we will have the same situation all over again. Yay Browns!

Also, when talking to my dad about it I said, “What are the chances of something like this happening???” and he said, “to the Browns?? Good. Very good.”

Sigh.

So, some good news….the K2 to my K1, my sister Kathy, is pregnant. Yay. I will be Mean Aunt Krissy again! I’m super excited. I can’t wait until I know what this kid is so I can start buying it shit it probably doesn’t need. Yay tiny baby clothes!!! Clothes are so much cuter when they are super tiny. Unless they are on a giant person, of course. I mean, you don’t even have to be giant really. No one wants to see me in a onesie. It would be fun to bust out of it, hulk-style though. But then I would be naked and the whole scenario gets awkward.

Fat guy in a little coat?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But a little Mingo jersey on a tiny baby? So adorable. I guess I can just start buying it Browns stuff. Boy or girl, it is getting Browns clothes.

AND…as a bonus, we can hide the baby under the Mingo jersey and say dumb stuff like, “I think the Mingo ate your baby”. That’s always fun.

Actually, the news anchor on whatever channel I was watching at my parents’ house after the draft made the “mingo ate your baby” reference, with no context at all, and it was SO LAME, and super awkward. Why do news anchors ever try to be funny? It never works out. And it just makes everyone uncomfortable.

Hopefully I did not just do the same thing, and make everyone uncomfortable with my not-funny joke. Or maybe you are still uncomfortable from thinking about me in a onesie? That is making me uncomfortable, actually…thinking about you thinking about me in a onesie.

Anyway……….

Poor Mingo. He probably hears lame stuff like this all the time. But he just got a sweet new job so I’m sure he can handle it. My sister said his girlfriend didn’t look too excited she was moving to Cleveland. What?? Why? I thought Cleveland was known for its greatness. EVERYONE wants to play here.

She is just going to have to suck it up. I’m sure it’s going to be real rough living in Cleveland, driving through the snow in your sweet new SUV with 4wd and heated seats, after you pull out of your garage in the morning and drive to…where? The grocery store? The nail salon? Joanne fabrics so you can stay home and make crafts all day? Or maybe just go nowhere and look out at the pretty snow from your huge stainless steel laden kitchen as you sit at your breakfast bar, leaning on the granite countertops, drinking a cup of Starbucks French Roast from your Keurig and watching The Chew or some shit on your gigantic television.

Yes, I am jealous. And judgmental. Maybe it’s not like that at all for her. Maybe he beats her and keeps her in a cage outside, who knows. In that case, I feel bad that she might be outside in the snow. Hopefully the neighbors will call the cops.

Child, please.

A little while ago (okay, a long while ago since I haven’t blogged in forever), I was fortunate enough to observe some amazing parenting in action. The first awesome thing to happen took place at one of the best places on earth to observe families with wholesome values, and that is of course Wal-Mart. I was looking for some stuff for my niece’s birthday, and there was a woman with her two kids a few feet away from me. The little girl sitting in the cart suddenly yells, “Mommy! Look! It’s those hussy dolls!”. This is where you think that her mother, an adult, would either be embarrassed or just say, “now that’s not nice” or something that would not condone such judgmental behavior. I mean, there is no way this woman would say, “yeah honey you’re right! Those Bratz dolls are hussies aren’t they!”. Wrong. And not only did she say just that, the little girl kept yelling the word “hussy” and saying things like, “we don’t like hussies, do we momma?!” and the mother just kept egging her on and saying the same stupid shit right back. “No we don’t like hussies! We don’t like them one bit!”.

Ugh. Way to teach your child how to be a fucking asshole. Why don’t you just teach her the word, “whore”, or maybe “slut”? That way when she gets to sixth grade and some girl is wearing a short skirt she can yell “HUSSY! SLUT!” and we can keep the world populated with a whole new generation of judgmental fucking prick bullies.

I should have grabbed one of the Bratz dolls and said, “I just love these little sluts!”.

And then the second sweet thing to happen was again…at Wal-Mart! Go figure. (also, for someone who hates Wal-Mart so much, I seem to go there a lot. It is right next to the building where I work, and sometimes I choose to forget about all the horrible crap that the wal-mart corporation does and just be lazy. Yes, I am a hypocrite). So I was walking past the vegetables and some kid grabs on to my cart. I laugh and her mom doesn’t say a word as the girl finally lets go and I walk past her and into the main aisle. Suddenly, far away from this girl’s mother, she jumps out from behind a stack of pepsi and in front of my cart. I laugh and push my cart the other direction. She jumps in front of it. I try to move my cart back the other way, she moves in front of it. This tiny little girl, with an evil half-smile on her face, will not let me go through. She is blocking the aisle. W.T.F. For a brief moment the image of me ramming my cart into a small child crossed through my brain, and I was like….oh, not today Krissy. No, you don’t want to be on 19 Action News fighting this girl’s mom, who right now apparently does not give a shit where she is, but will suddenly care a lot if I smack into her with a cart. I can see the headlines now “Bitter single woman mauls innocent child with shopping cart”, “Mother defends child against crazy bitch in Wal-Mart frozen foods section”. No thanks.

Anyway, I realize I am being bullied by a 5-year old and I can’t do anything about it. The uncomfortable laughs and smiles I was tossing back at the kid have faded away, and I am glaring at her. I am raising my voice, “HEY. I need to get through here. Please move”. FINALLY, she moves and just stares at me as I pass her. I hear her following me. She runs up behind me. It was terrifying. Yes, the sound of a tiny girl’s footsteps behind me evoke terror in my brain. I ignore her. And like that….her little feet run back towards her mother who is NOWHERE IN SIGHT. I mean, where the hell was she? I could have walked out of the store with that girl before she would have noticed!!

Ugh. I don’t pretend like I would be some awesome mom, or that I am all judgey on everyone’s parenting skills. I understand, it’s hard, and I don’t have kids so how would I know what it’s like….But COME ON. I don’t want more assholes in the world and if you are raising your kids like assholes maybe you should take a look at yourself and start taking some responsibility. I mean. Ugh. Teaching and encouraging your child to say the word hussy makes me want to punch YOU in the face. I feel bad for your kid.

I guess I am being judgey.

Sorry parents. Most of you are awesome. Some of you…not so much. For the awesome parents out there…yay. Keep teaching your kids the good shit so I can feel hopeful that my niece and nephew will grow up in a world populated by miniature yous.

So tomorrow I pick up little Rubes for some Mean Aunt Krissy time. My buddy Nikki is going to NOLA so I will be dog sitting. Yay. It will be nice because next week is the two-year mark of when my brother died…so hopefully Ruby will keep me company as I know this week is going to be rough. It already is rough. I feel it looming there and it is making me tense. Not that the pain will magically go away the day afterwards, or ever really…but I just can’t believe it’s been TWO FUCKING YEARS already. In some ways it feels like it’s been 100 years. But he would be 24 and I don’t know him at 24. I never will. He will always be 22.

I am fortunate to have known him for 22 years I guess. But I wonder what old Jimmy would have been like. I was an idiot at 22. I was an idiot at 26. I was an idiot at 30. Shit, I am still an idiot. But maybe just a little less of one. Not that Jimmy was ever an idiot…but he did not get the chance to learn about himself as he aged, and learned who he was and what he wanted to do.

Eh, I guess I don’t really know those things either. I wonder if anyone does.

Okay, enough of the depresso post. There may be a few more of these in the works at this week drags on….but for now, I leave you with this.

I think I need a monocle.

I wonder how long it would take me to get sick of yelling “do not pass GO!” to random strangers while wearing said monocle. Probably never.

I was looking over a contract I have for my glasses…when I bought them last year I think I paid a little extra for some warranty. I was trying to see if I could say they were lost and get a new pair on the cheap so that I would have two pairs rolling around. So under the “what is not covered” section, it says, “LOSS OR DAMAGE DUE TO THE ELEMENTS OR AN ACT OF GOD” (and yes, it is in all caps).

The phrase “act of God” always cracks me up. Like, I was cruising around Galilee with Jesus and He thought it would be funny to turn them into wine while they were still on my face. Real funny JC! Now my warranty is invalid! But this wine IS delicious…..

In all seriousness, I know what that means in legal terms, so whatever. Events out of my control, right? Well, what if it WAS in my control and I still lost them? Like, I left my purse open at a bar and they fell out when I got up? That actually COULD happen, and I could have prevented it. I’m not a lawyer but….pay me! I mean, give me some new glasses!

Anyway, what I thought was hilarious was that a few lines down in this super long paragraph it mentions that it does not cover “LOSS OR DAMAGE DUE TO WAR, INVASION, OR ACT OF FOREIGN ENEMY, HOSTILITIES, CIVIL WAR, REBELLION, RIOT, STRIKE, LABOR DISTURBANCE, LOCKOUT OR CIVIL COMMOTION”.

Jeez. They really cover all their bases! I mean, are there Pearle Visions in Baghdad? I think the guy that wrote this has seen Red Dawn way too many times.

Invasion! Like if another country invaded us and they came in and stormed my house, killing everyone in sight, and I managed to somehow go undetected and make it out alive, but my glasses got smashed up….I would march over to Pearle and ask to use my warranty. And, as the bombs are falling from the sky and people are screaming, the lady looks up the contract and says, “I’m sorry. No, we can’t fix your glasses. It says right here in all caps that we don’t cover invasions or an act of foreign enemy”.

Annoying!

Other annoying things:
-drivers on the road that aren’t me.
-the fact that I can’t punch every dude that hurts a child or a woman right in the face until it breaks off of his head.
-getting up for work in the morning when it’s cold out. Can’t I just lay there until 10 and then everyone comes to me? I will put pants on I promise.
-the phrase “black Monday”, describing the day after the regular NFL season ends.
-the sports media and their HORRIBLE reporting skills. Do they know ANYTHING about journalism? Does ANYONE even CARE about accurate reporting?? My GOD. They reported that Andy Reid was only unemployed for one day, and that he was the next coach of the Arizona Cardinals. Done deal. But wait…Arizona hadn’t even talked to Andy Reid yet? They were still going to look at other people as well??? WTF!!! The whole “this guy is going here” and “this guy is for sure not going there” and “so and so just had dinner with Chip Kelly” and “Bruce Arians is my cousin’s friends’ brother’s aunt’s baby and my nephew’s uncle’s sister’s dad’s drug dealer said he’s going to chicago” and BLAH BLAH BLAH is really getting on the nerves of this guy.
-waiting to find out who will be the next coach of the Browns. I am at the mercy of the media until the news breaks, and that blows. I don’t know that I care TOO much who we get. I just hope whoever it is really WANTS the job and has two more balls than the last guy (which would mean he would have two balls total for anyone not familiar with the shurm). Whoever it is, it better be a guy that doesn’t take a fucking knee when there is enough time to toss a few fucking hail marys across the field!!

And you know what really grinds my gears?
-Cougartown commercials. I mean, OKAY, we GET IT. You old bastards like wine! My God. Super awesome that you are all a bunch of alcoholics slamming wine like you’re in college to forget about the fact that you are in your forties and laughing like it’s all really funny. I am 35 and I am not chugging wine because I AM 35 and I know what happens! The next day I CAN’T MOVE. I bet they don’t show that part! And it’s not like I don’t drink…..I drink a lot of wine. And beer. And whiskey. Way more than most other 35-year old humans I’m sure. But I am not playing drinking games with WINE! I am not 21, and this isn’t 3am at a friend’s house with a bottle of carlo rossi because it’s all we have left to play Kings with. I mean. wtf. Every single commercial is about how much they like wine, throwing wine at each other, pouring wine, laughing and drinking wine. I want to throw beers at them. Many, many beers. Boots full of beers. Entire kegs, with old drunken Irish guys from medieval times, smelly and missing teeth, throwing the beer kegs around, beer sloshing out of the enormous steins in their hands, and REALLY laughing. Laughing and hanging on all those bitches, leering at them with their horrible breath and dirty faces.

Yeah. Not a fan of those commercials.

Anyhoo…that’s all I got for today. Tomorrow is Friday (well, when you read this it may already be Friday because I have this bastard automatically scheduled to roll out at 4:30….whaaat. See how I can figure stuff out? Not like it’s hard when there is a large button next to the posting screen but I am still proud of myself!) and I am not annoyed at the fridayness. at all. Sooo looking forward to the weekend! My mom is making my favorite on Sunday…lasagna! That way we can super fatten up for our big weigh-in. Also, I am going to make some homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream. Fat city weekend for sure.

Then next week will be the start of a much needed wagon ride to Skinny Town. Or at least Less Fat Town…..