Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Fanatic Shemnatic

Helloooo readers. I just want to begin by saying thank you to everyone who bothers to read this crap I come up with and post online. I'm proud to say I have had over 500 views of my blog and know for a fact only 475 of them were me so YAY! To anyone who has a blog or knows someone with a blog 500 might not seem like a lot but keep in mind I only have about 5 friends who aren't blood relatives, so it makes me feel really special :D So again, thank you everyone!!

With that said, we are going to get a little weird. I have talked about my quirky obsessions a bit in previous posts, like the cereal thing (This week it's fruity dyno-bites) and this is kind of a spin off of that.
We watch a lot of tv at our house, like and insanely large, ridiculous amount of tv. If your mother ever told you tv will rot your brain, its not true, because I watch it constantly and I am still a genius. So just like my cereal, I get obsessed with shows. I will watch all the previous seasons and the current season and when it ends I fall into a deep depression and cry a lot. These are usually just shows I come across when seasons of our regular show end and we are waiting for new shows to start. Then they get merged into our regular lineup which consists of  like 100 "events" as our DVR calls it, (that's 100 different shows we record throughout the year, it is at its limit.) It usually works out pretty well because unfortunately shows get cancelled and we can fill that slot with something new. My last great obsession was the show "Eureka". I watched every season available up until the last episode which aired mid July. During my Eureka stage, I was once again sucked into another vortex, similar to that of the baby high, when everything in my life revolved around this show. Rob came home one night and was sitting next to me on the couch, waiting for one of the episodes to get over so we could watch something else (yes, he is the man of my dreams). Well there is a character who had died in a previous episode who kind of comes back in a way and it is very emotional for someone like me who thinks tv characters are real and my close personal friends, but to someone who hasn't been following the series, nothing significant is happening at all. You have to have the back story for it to be at all gripping. I am doing my best to keep it together, and I can tell Rob feels in the air something isn't right because I am way too quiet. So I am dead eye staring at the tv, lips pursed, telling myself "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry" I see Rob out of the corner of my eye kind of looking at me, so I look at him, I look back at the screen and just f'ing lose it. Like seriously snot-nose sobbing, and Rob looks at me, I look at him and just yell.. "BUT HE'S DEAD...HE DIED ROB. HE'S DEAD!!"
I wish I could say this is a one time thing, but I often get way to emotionally involved with fictional characters.

As of about 12 days ago, the cycle has begun once more. I found this show called Primeval, and right now it's the only thing that gets me through the work day. I count down the minutes until I can get home and watch the next episode, it's such a good show. Not only is it awesome because it's about time-travelling dinosaurs but it also has a ton of surprises like one of the main actors, Hannah Spearritt, was a member of S Club 7. WHATTT?! DID YOU JUST SAY S CLUB 7?!? Yes, yes I did. Now excuse me while I clean up this mess, of your mind just being BLOWN! And for those of you who don't know who S Club 7 is, I pity you.

So I am really into this show right now, besides Hannah's character "Abby", my other favorite character is "Connor" played by Andrew-Lee Potts, and in the show they have a little relationship going on. Last night, while I was at work, err I mean I was DEFINITELY NOT at work.........ok I was at work, I had the urge to look both of them up and what did I find out? Not only are they a couple in the show, but also in real life! So at first I'm like "awww!" and then I'm like "wait a tec" and then I want to cry because I am in love with both of them. But then I am ok with it again because I decide I can be their sister wife. Then I remember I have a husband at home, so I shake my fist at the heavens and yell "Curse you Rob!!"

Thankfully I eventually brought myself back to reality and decided it would never work because:
A. They are all the way over in the UK and I could never leave my critters.
B. I'm guessing they probably have some sort of security who are trained to spot crazy people, that would hinder my chances of even meeting them.
C. I have no idea what they are really like in real life, I just love their fictional characters, but I would guess they are super nice people in reality.
D. I would eventually become very disappointed when I figure out we aren't going to capture any time travelling creatures, once again, it's not real (allegedly).
and E. Ok I guess I would miss Rob, a lot.

Turns out, like many of my plans, this one isn't going to work out so I shall just sit at home and admire them from my couch. Like most of my idiosyncrasies, this is definitely not the first time I have been so intrigued by a fictional or fantastical concept that I have become emotionally distraught over the idea that they might not be possible. I wonder if my mom would remember this certain incident I'm going to share with you, probably not since I was a strange child and did lots of questionable shit.

THE YEAR WAS 1998!! *Wavy lines, wavy lines, bright light* (Flashback!!)

Harry Potter was at the top of the charts when a young Rachel stumbled into her mother's room one dark evening. She stood just inside the doorway, silent, waiting for her mom to noticed her.
"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" her mother asked, peering over her book.
The preteen stayed silent, her eyes began to glisten in the dim light of the table lamp. (No wonder my mom needs reading glasses, proper lighting people!)
"What's wrong?!" Her mother exclaimed, as she carefully closed her book.
The brown haired girl began to cry, for nothing could open the flood gates like that of a mother's concerned voice asking "What's wrong?"
She collapsed onto the bed, violently sobbing as her mother frantically put down her book so she could comfort her favorite child.
"Oh my God! What it is?! What's wrong Rachel?!" she said, her voice panicked and shaking.
The girl didn't respond and continued to wail like a wounded cow after a vicious werewolf attack.
"Rachel, OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED?!?!" She mother was now also completely distraught, fearing only the worst.
The girl looked up at her mother, her eyes red and brimming with hot tears and said "I want to go to Hogwarts!"
"What?!" replied her mother, heart and mind still racing she was unable to process what was going on.
"Hogwarts. I want to go there." sniffed young Rachel.
"Hogwarts? What is Hogwarts?" asked her mother.
"You know, the wizard school, in my book"

Now this would have been a completely appropriate time for my mom to beat the living hell out of me and I wouldn't have blamed her! She was scared out of her mind thinking something horrible had happened and it ends up being me wanting to go to school at a fictional place. Luckily, or unluckily, when I was a young child, I would often have fevers which were accompanied by terrible delusions. Even the slightest spike in temperature could bring on all sorts of visions and such, so it was really fun for the entire family when I was sick. My mom just let me wear myself out and the next morning she told me "You were really delirious last night, you had a breakdown about going to Hogwarts!"
Ummm...yes..delirious. We'll go with that! Definitely not mental unstable. But seriously, how freaking awesome would it be to go to Hogwarts?

I live in a closet and have a magical pet rabbit!! Huzzah! Off to Hogwarts we go!
So that's another weird trait I have lived with since childhood, that Rob now gets to deal with. Not only do I get this way with books, tv shows, even concerts I go to (I'm always convinced they are going to ask me to join the band) but I think it also has affect on my dreams. I always have very vivid dreams, sometimes when I wake up I'm actually more tired from all the crap I was doing while I was asleep. I think this ability to become so immersed into an alternate reality is sometimes a gift just as much as a curse. Sure I'm a little more crazy because of it, but it also helps me to be creative, imaginative and have a view on things other people may not have. So overall, as annoying it may be for my family, life would be pretty boring without it!

Well that's the end of another adventure. I hope you enjoyed this latest look into the madness that is me and say a little prayer tonight for Rob and the critters, they really didn't know what they were getting into when I came along. Until next time!

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Mean People and What To Do About Them

I'm having trouble deciding how to word this. I'd like to say my mom doesn't understand what a blog is but that would be a lie, she gets the general concept. That's why its concerning to me when we have conversations like the one we had a few days ago. She told me I should blog about someone in our "family". That is in quotations because we consider a lot of people who aren't necessarily blood family to be apart of our family. That used to really bug Rob, he is more of a facts and figures kind of guy but he eventually just stopped trying to wrap his head around why we do the things we do and life went on. Every once in a while he still tries to figure out what is going on inside our heads but luckily for me he gives up before any real damage is done, a normal human brain just can't handle the madness. So "family" includes all blood relations, half-blood relations, marriage-relations, step relations, people we have known for many years, people we have known for short time but really like, its a pretty open ended thing. Anyways, my mom tells me to blog about this person, who just happens to be someone who is a complete idiot and makes my eye twitch, to kind of "call them out" in a way I guess. So I'm like "Mom, no. You understand anyone can see and read my blog right?" She says yes followed by an evil laugh. So basically my mom is a cyber bully, but I can't blame her. Mean people suck.

Honestly yes, there are several people in my life who I can't stand and have done really mean and stupid things and I would LOVE for everyone to know what jerks they are. But here's the thing about those kind of people, they are really, really stupid or have some kind of mental issue. Seriously, think about it, of all the assholes you know, do any of them seem very intelligent or stable?  They could have a thousand people come up to them and tell them they are a jerk and they will always, ALWAYS have a stupid reason to justify their actions. Or more likely, they will put the blame on someone else "It's how I was raised!" You aren't a barn, you raise a barn and it stays a barn. You are a human with a mind of your own, humans evolve and are constantly changing. If you want to be a better person, all you have to do is do it.

Alas, some people just wanted to stay assholes, so as hard as it is you just have to let it go and let them be ridiculous. Would it make me happy to share with them world how crazy these people are? Yeah, it would make it easier to deal with them if I could vent my anger. Would it really make me happy to bully beatdown their asses? I dunno, if I had to guess I'd say yes, it would probably make me feel really good but everyone knows those type of loud mouths are the first ones who will run and call the police. I've never been to jail, considering my size, my ingenuity, master craft skills and that I'm a total bad-ass I'd probably do ok. Between all the crime shows and Martha Stewart episodes I watch I'm fairly positive I could make a shiv out of anything but I'd really miss my family so I'm forced to take the high road and not go all Mortal Kombat on these people. Plus, in the end they would still be jerks, just jerks with bruises.

See you have to be smart about it, think outside the box, sneaky revenge. For example, someday I might have a really awesome party and invite them but pay everyone else $50 if they promise not to talk to them, or when I win the lottery someday, instead of cash I'll just make a donation to a charity for them and forget to fill out the name part so they never get recognition for it. Possibly at some point I'm going to build a sweet ass treehouse and I'll let them come up but we will sit around awkwardly not talking and then I'll be all like 'I think I hear my husband calling, I better go..." Maybe I'll order pizza someday and accidentally order something they don't like as a topping and offer to make them a sandwich instead but suddenly remember I'm out of bread but I have a stale hamburger bun you can use. When we are around them make constant reference to something random and then be all "Oh sorry, it's kind of an inside joke. hehehe." I can think of a million subtle plans to use on my nemeses, I don't know if it will make me feel better but I'm pretty immature so chances are it would. The real question is would doing these things make me just as evil as they are? Would I turn into the monster that I was fighting in the first place? Would justice really be served or would it turn my world into a sucking vortex of hurt feelings? Possibly but at least for now I can take comfort in the fact that I get to go home every night to two fluffy dogs, a loving husband and a rabbit who sometimes doesn't hate me. That's what makes life worth living!

I should probably end it there but for some reason it feels too mushy. So I'm going to include this picture of all the stuff I cleaned out of that brush roller thing of my vacuum, next to a loofah, that has a mustache on. What? Isn't this how everyone spends their Saturday nights?! Enjoy!

So freaking gross!!! 

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Mags Won't Wear a Diaper or "The Point In Which This Blog Takes a Frightening Turn"

I was never really sure if I wanted kids, granted Rob already had a child when we met, but even pre-Rob I never really saw myself wanting children. I loved my animals and wouldn't mind a house full of them but kids were different. They were loud and stinky and kind of creepy. My friends will tell you, I used to hate kids. They would be running around all over the place in stores, I would get easily aggravated and even try to trip the little buggers at times. It was such a well known trait of mine, even one of my high school teachers was shocked the first time she saw me working in the children's department. Rob and I had talked about kids and he was pretty much fine with whatever, I still haven't figured out if he is just scared to voice his opinions to me or if he is really that indifferent to everything on Earth. Either way, we had talked about it and for a long time we thought maybe having kids just wasn't for us.

So imagine both our surprise when out of the blue, around age 23 1/2 or so, I suddenly felt the urge to have a small bundle of our own. For about a year and a half I slowly came around to wanting a baby, on one condition. It had to be a girl. I did not want a boy, whatever I had to do to have a girl I would do. I would research all sorts of things from diets, times of conception, genetic mapping, whatever I could think of. If I were to go through all of the work to have a baby and it end up being a boy, I would be completely and utterly devastated.
Then came the dream, I don't think I will ever forget it either. It was so intense and life changing that even the following day at work I felt like this whole new world had opened up to me. In my dream, I had twins, a beautiful, sweet, darling little girl and a boy. I was giving them a bath and there was no one around. My dream-self lifted the little girl out and wrapped her in a nice, warm, cozy towel, I then turned to the little boy. I looked at him for a little while and then I lifted him out of the bath and wrapped him in a towel of his own. Then I woke up. Now this dream might not seem like an epiphany to you but it blew my mind. I called called Rob immediately and told him my dream, he had no idea why I was so surprised with this seemly innocent and dull dream. "Because!!" I told him "I didn't drown the baby boy!!"

Ok, now that I freaked everyone out, I need to explain once again how much I did not want a boy. I don't know why but I really, REALLLY did not want a boy. I honestly have no idea where this fear or whatever it was came from. My brain just has a lot of unexplained issues, I felt about boy babies the same way some people feel about pet snakes. If you want a boy child in your house, feel free, just keep it kenneled up while I'm over. Looking back, I feel awful but that won't change the fact that at one time in my life I had such strong dislike for little boys. During my stint of crazy, I would often have dreams where I would end up with a boy and either just leave it at the hospital, or try and take somebody elses girl instead, black market baby trade, that kind of thing. I'm going to deny ever having dreams where fatality was concerned, with the exception of "the Dream". I don't really remember for sure but obviously if I was that excited about not drowning the imaginary boy baby, I must have had other dreams where things did not go well. Yeah, I know, it's not a good thing! So when I woke up that morning, everything had changed, I actually felt different. It was like going to sleep democrat and waking up republican, just really odd. I don't know how one dream was able to change my mind on something I felt so strongly about, but dreams are crazy things. It was a little frightening, this very well could be how serial killers are made.

Well ever since I had that weird ass dream, I starting going through bouts of baby fever. It would happen every couple months for about a week at a time  and then it would stop for another month or two. Pretty soon it was two weeks, then three, then a month. Now I am bat sh*t baby crazy. I went from not liking kids to being a baby stalker at work, staring people's strollers down as they pass my desk. "Ohhh whatcha got there? Is that a baaabbyy? Do you have a baabbyy in therree?? Is that a tiny little human with tiny little human features in theerre???" In my creepy high pitched voice. Rob and I decided we are going to have a baby someday, we actually talked about possibly starting to trying the beginning of next year but after thinking about it and looking over some of our bills I decided, like a big girl, we needed to wait a couple more years so we can pay off some things first. Lord knows I need the time to work on my self-control and sanity, I already have to stop myself from buying cute little outfits for the future baby Lavender.

Speaking of sanity, that brings us to the title of this post.
So one night I overdosed on baby names, outfits and gear and was sucked in to a baby-high. Allow me to walk you through the stages of a Rachel baby-high:

Step 1: Exaggerated sense of happiness- Me singing and writing lists of baby stuff, looking at baby stuff online, pinterest searches, etc.

Step 2: Confliction- This is when I argue with myself, out loud, that I want a baby and then I tell myself "NO! You can not have one, not now."
Then I say "Yes damn it! My body my choice!"
"No you irresponsible fool! You can't even keep your house clean now, you don't get one"
Fight ensues--Rob is curled up at the other end of the couch with a look of terror in his eyes.

Step 3: Anger and self loathing- Pretty much me hating everyone and everything, storming away to shed some anger tears.

Step 4: Acceptance aka Complete Delusion- This is when things get really scary. I come out of the bedroom, all raccoon eyed with hair sticking up everywhere, crazy smile on my face. On this particular night I decided that I could wait to have a baby, because I already have a baby!! MAGNUS!!! I just remembered, I have newborn diaper samples in my closet! (This should end well)

Long story short, I had my arms shredded by possibly the angriest rabbit you will ever see, the diaper ended up staying on him for maybe 3 seconds, at the most, and I had to spend the rest of the night trying to coax Mags out from his hiding spot under the bed. He finally came out but spent the rest of the night ignoring me, yes rabbits can ignore you and it's incredibly hurtful. And just to be clear, Rob was home the entire time but I think he was too scared to intervene during any of this and by too scared I mean has stopped paying attention to my crazy and leaves me to my own devices.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Master-Debating and Collegiate Ambition

Rob and I often get into unjustified spats due to the reason he feels that at times I have a certain, ahem, infliction in the way I speak which makes him think I am copping a cattitude with him. This is completely false. His hearing is just off, so I try to calmly explain to him that if I was mad, he would know it. There would be no question, when I get mad it's like a fog horn. There is no marginal anger with me. Do I get passionate about things? Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am angry or upset. I'm simply giving 110% to the cause and apparently this can be mistaken for anger, once again I promise that is not the case. In fact, I usually stop caring about the subject halfway through the conversation, but by then I am so caught up in the festivity of it all I just continue arguing for the sake of arguing. One of my favorite things in the world is heated conversation. Even if Rob and I are on the same side of things, I like getting all boisterous and loud. I start using big, flamboyant words that may not be real words but are close enough that they're believable. I spout facts that I heard at some point, that I'm pretty sure are true. I say things with the confidence of a scholar, the passion of a TV evangelist and the hand motions of an air traffic marshaller. It's kind of my thing. I also fully enjoy being right, which is always.
Ok not really but even if I am wrong I will explain it thoroughly enough for you to understand how easily it was to have misspoken. Or I'll just end it with an "Eh, whatever." But if you are the one who is incorrect, look out, I'll have a power point presentation done in 30 minutes showing that you were, in fact, wrong, this is how you were wrong, this is what is happening psychologically that evoked a wrong answer, what you can do to change the pattern of wrong answers, and how observation and attention to details can prevent this from ever happening again. Now you work on that and these brain exercises I have for you here and I'll randomly bring this conversation up again in two weeks and see if you have learned anything.
If I put half the effort into further my education (or really any single productive aspect of my life) that I do my arguments, I would literally be the Donald Trump of the Midwest. Like the hair and everything, full commitment, that's how I roll. But alas, school is expensive and time consuming, I already have a good job with benefits and in the 4 years I have had my "grown up" job I've come to realize that even with a bachelor's degree, I would have the same job title that I have now. I would have to go all the way up to a master's then most likely would have to move to find a job where I only make a few thousand more a year than I do now, starting. That seems like a lot of work and honestly I find it difficult some days just going to the basement to switch my laundry over. I have a feeling getting a master's degree is a lot harder than the intoxicated "thriller-esque" dance I do when moving the whites from the washer to the dryer. God forbid I drop some thing during its 3 foot journey from Point A to Point B.
Do you know how long it takes for me to look at the wet sock on the ground, sigh, close my eyes, take a deep breath, attempt to bend over while avoiding a wardrobe malfunction, I've got one leg sticking out behind me, one arm on the top of the dryer in an attempt to support myself, not to mention the grunt when I finally get upright again? Me neither! Know why? I don't have to time myself because:
A. I only do laundry on my days off and I have no life and
B. I don't have a stack of homework to do because I'm not working on college classes on my days off

In fact, I usually take the time to sing a quick White Stripes parody about a wet sock on the dirty ground when it knows Rob's not around before I pick it up. Or I just leave it there, my house, I do what I want. Yes, college is super important, it really is. Unless you are like me and fall into a really great job, but understand if I ever lose this job I am royally flushed.
I'm not sure what I would do and considering all the horrible ideas I get when I am home alone (I have fully convinced myself I would not be injured if I were to fall from my roof, tuck and roll, I have super human strength and electrocution is easily avoidable as long as you believe in yourself!) it's very likely I would spend a lot of time blogging from a hospital bed, probably from somewhere in Mexico. I have a feeling the doctors down there appreciate bartering more than the ones around here.
Once again, my ramblings have brought us to an interesting stopping place. Moral of the story: I am a terrible role model, don't listen to a thing I say. Also, I'm too tired to keep re-reading this for errors so you get what you get. If you feel the need to point them out, do yourself a favor and go call your mom. Your overwhelming urge to correct my grammar stems from you not getting enough hugs as a child, probably.