Domestic Emotional Terrorist

So I have this super awesome diagnosis of a super awesome disorder that makes my life fucking miserable. It's wonderful, it screws with every aspect of my life making shit way more difficult than it needs to. I think my favorite part is how I can be treated like complete shit by someone but I still need their approval to continue existing so I end up telling myself that I'm a terrible person and since I am a terrible person, I accept that's how I should be treated because it's what I deserve. It's SUPER FUN!

Actually just kidding, it's not super fun. It's a shitty way to live. Being the self-aware mental case that I am, I go to therapy where I try to hold in my feelings as she asks me to say out loud that I am a good person. Which I can't do. Actually, I can say the words but I refuse to because I don't believe it and I'm not a god damn liar. I'm not going to sit there and tell myself I'm a good person over and over in hopes I'll some day convince myself it's true. That is bullshit and fake. I'm a very honest person, I don't tell other people lies just to make them feel better and I'm not going to do it to myself. Homie don't play that. Real talk.

So I figured I'd write this. Not for your sympathy, not for you to turn around and tell me "but you ARE a good person!" I know you think I'm a good person but I have a rebuttal for that, I have a rebuttal for everything you're gonna say. You see, after living like this for so long, I know all the good comebacks. I'm writing this because it is important for people to understand that by the luck of the draw, some people live their lives feeling this way. And unfortunately, there is nothing, nothing, nothing anyone can do or say to change that mindset until the person in question can make that change for themselves. Frustrating, huh?

I would also hate for anyone who envies me (which sounds completely fucking ridiculous to say, do not envy me at all, I am literally a mess of a person) to read this and think, "Oh no! But she's got something going for her and if she feels worthless, then I should feel super worthless." For the love of all that is holy, I really honestly hope NO ONE says this to themselves but if for some crazy reason you ever think that, even for a second, STOP. You are not worthless, never feel worthless. I feel this way because I am blessed with a brain that hates me, there is something wrong with my gray matter, it's chemically imbalanced or has been somehow traumatize or I have a parasite eating away my brain. There is something wrong with the way I see myself, I know this but never let my opinion or anyone else's ever make you feel like you are WORTH IT. Because you fucking are. This is so incredibly important.

Do not put up with shit from anyone because they tell you or you tell yourself that you aren't worth it or you don't deserve happiness. BECAUSE IT IS NOT FUCKING TRUE. I feel like I just need an entire string of cuss words and caps lock because it is the only way I know how to emphasize the fucking IMPORTANCE OF WHAT I'M TELLING YOU.

You are good, you are full of worth, 

you are a beautiful person, you are smart 

and you are fucking worthy of love.

And if I ever, EVER heard you say otherwise I will come find you and beat the shit out of you, purely out of love though. There will be tons of heart behind my fists of fury and afterwards I will gently kiss the top of your head, wipe your tears and tell you you those 5 things. And then you will look at me and say, "Bitch you are literally crazy, this is the absolute worst way you could have gone about this. It was completely unnecessary and counterproductive. I honestly hate you." Then I will hold you close to my bosom while stroking your hair and say, "Hush little one, I'm coming down from my meds, it's about to get real weird up in here."

Big Mouth Bertha

Sometimes I open my mouth aaannndd...word vomit. This happens a lot when talking to people for the first or second time. Everything starts off really well, make some small talk, ask them about themselves but then they, in turn, inquire about myself. "WEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL...... *20 minutes later* so the doctor says, get this, it's NOT dry skin! It's a fungal infection! *another 20 minutes* and that's the story of how I became a woman.......*10 more minutes* which is funny because my social security number is......*in closing* So to answer your question, here. I live here...."
So why do I do this, even when my mom warns me not to? Why do I think it's even a little bit appropriate to tell people embarrassing or non flattering tales of my life, when it would be easy to just keep my mouth shut? Do I have no self control? Well, by golly, I'll tell you!

One of the most important things about making a first impression, is to read the room. Where are you? What kind of people are you surrounded by? Is it a casual or a more professional setting? If I know I am in a more professional setting, I will be as professional as I can. So juuust this side of white trash... If it is a more casual setting or I have met the people at least once or twice before, I like to see how far I can push it.

I feel like telling a somewhat embarrassing story is fine, especially if you are telling it in a humorous light. Being able to take what could be a not ideal situation and seeing the humor in it tells you a lot about a person. It says this person doesn't take life so seriously, is fun, outgoing and more approachable. More likely to be invited to do things because they bring a little something extra to the party. Like drugs. Or hookers.

Usually I spend the first few minutes listening, I try to figure out who people are and what might fly with them. When around people you don't know that well, I try to make jokes that are blatantly obvious jokes. If I'm talking about my job I might say, "Oh yes. I work at *completely normal job* but I moonlight as a stripper. Now if you actually have a nice body, can do your makeup and appear to be somewhat flexible, this joke might not work for you. But for an overweight, 28 year old who has to give herself pep talks when bending down to pick up items, it's a lot funnier. If they laugh, you can go even more serious and without smiling say "What? Why is that funny?" Then everyone gets deer in headlights looks and you say "JUST KIDDING! I don't think they make strip poles thick enough to hold all this!" *motion to lava hot, couch potato bod*

Can I be crude? Yes. Does this sometimes backfire and blow up in my face? All the freaking time. Sometimes I misjudge or take things too far, surprisingly I'm not perfect. Being funny isn't always easy, you have to have a sharp wit and a quick tongue. (Obligatory "That's what she said") Unfortunately, humor can be very, very subjective. This is when trouble arises, recovering from one failed joke is hard enough, if this happens several times, you're on a sinking ship and that sucks. Some people just aren't going to think you're funny but whatever awful childhood incident led them to this sad, humorless adulthood is not your fault. I like to think that someday, somewhere, those people will be thinking back to our encounter and as they think about what an idiot I am, a smile will appear and that shit will be because of me.
You're welcome, you uptight jerk.

Well it's good to know that I am still an expert when it comes to starting a blog post on one subject and ending on another. I would go back and edit that but meeehhhhhhh.. it's kind of on topic.

Stay relevant suckas.

Life's like a box of chocolate...laxatives.

Yes. It's official. I had a Facebook status meltdown about infertility the other day. Am I proud? No, I am not. Did I do it for sympathy? No, I didn't. I did it because I saw something about babies that just tipped me over the edge and outbursts happened. I probably didn't need to put it out there for all my 200 some Facebook friends to see but it all happened kind of in a typing fury blur. Kind of like when you stub your toe on a coffee table and suddenly you just want to go full THIS IS SPARTAN on everyone and everything near you. So it happened and I posted it and I'm leaving it.

It is extremely, extremely hard to deal with life sometimes. I've said it before, I am not a religious person but I believe that yes, things happen for a reason. I don't mean like little piddly everyday dumb stuff. If I get flipped off by some jackass I don't think, "Oh well, he probably needed to get that aggression out somehow. Now he won't lash out at someone in his family." No, that guy is just an asshole but when it comes to life altering events, yes some of it happens for a legit reason. However, when you are in the now, dealing with all the heavy shit, it is very hard to see what kind of good is going to come of it. And sometimes, once you do look back and see what came of it you realize WTF. The outcome wasn't even that good! Who decided that it would be ok to have my damn cat ran over so I could learn a life lesson about loss?! I could of hit a freaking squirrel and learned that shit, it didn't have to be my cat. Drunk ass universe and your shit lessons.

So seeing the good in things when they seem completely stupid and unfair is super tough. Like this whole infertility thing, maybe there is a reason it's all messed up. I'm not implying that it's because we are not supposed to have children but maybe there is a reason it is taking longer and more effort than normal. I mean, it would be super freaking great if the universe would let me know it's reasoning behind this ordeal. I don't think it's too much to ask, honestly. Like maybe if we were meant to get pregnant on our own, it would have happened a long time ago. Like right when we started dating and I didn't know how babies were made so the rhythm method seemed like a pretty solid form of birth control. That would have really, really sucked if I would have gotten pregnant the first about 6 months of dating. That sounds bad to say but I was there and let me tell you, big hott mess. Not good.

Maybe something big is going to happen in the next year or month or even tomorrow that will really alter our entire view on what our lives are and what we are supposed to do in the world. Maybe I will be cast in a Marvel movie or maybe I'll procure an insignificant flesh wound from a knife fight at da club when I'm goin' hard. We don't know what the future brings but we can hope there is a reason things happen and that no matter the path, we will eventually end up exactly where we are supposed to be. How can I know this for sure? Because how I met my husband was the most unlikely, round about way that you could imagine. There was absolutely no possible way our paths would have crossed if not for the very specific way things happened. And everyone I have met who has had a major effect on me has occurred because of the way things happened beginning at that point in my life. Many of them I know I wouldn't have met in any other way and even if I did, I know that the connection that I would have had with them would not have been the same.

Moral of the story, things happen for a reason. Even if it's something really crappy and unfair and a total load of bull, you have to have faith in the universe or whoever you think has control over your fate, has your overall best future in mind. Of course don't expect you can just sit on your couch and good things will happen for you. You still need to work towards your goals, I mean I've done so much research on the female and male reproductive systems that I am confident if they ever form a Pen15 club in my area, I will surely be president of my chapter. So I've go that going for me.

Later gators.

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"
"I'M A WONDERFUL HOUSE KEEP! WHY I OUGHTA!"
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.

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.

Dieting and Other Things

July 23rd, 2012

My younger sister has been going through many-a-changes in the last year, one of them is adopting a new, healthier lifestyle. In her journey, she has managed to lose just over 50 pounds. Though I am very proud of her, I am also very jealous and angry with myself for not being healthier. I try, I really do. I wake up every morning with the intention of eating well and being active but I just really love food and eating said food. It's an activity I just really look forward to doing each day. And I like to eat a variety of things. For example, today I woke up, had a bowl of Marshmallow Mateys (yes, they are generic Lucky Charms and I don't care if they are made of crap, I like them) Ok I lied, I had two bowls...OK I LIED AGAIN..three...it was three bowls. I'm so ashamed. So after breakfast, my friends text me to meet up for lunch before we went to the pool. I had a turkey melt sandwich thing and fries, usually I get a salad but the service was horrible and I didn't want to confuse the server or anything. After the pool, I came home and got ready to go to work at 4:00, ate a bomb pop and a few potato chips, once again I am going to justify this by saying I hardly ever eat potato chips, really, ask Rob. I also took a handful of cherries to work with me. After I got off work at 8:00, I ate a leftover BBQ country rib, yes a as in a single rib, it was pretty great and four jalapeno poppers. Oh yeah, I vaguely remember eating a few E.L. Fudge cookies.

Alright, as I write this I realize today was an exceptionally horrid day of eating to decide to share with everyone. I suppose this is why people keep food diaries. Ehhh, this is embarrassing, yet all I can think of right now is really wanting more Marshmallow Mateys. I'm beginning to think with all the money the generic cereal company saves by not putting their product in cardboard boxes, they spend on crack to sprinkle on their cereal so people become addicted to it. I can't think of any other explanation for these withdrawals I seem to have if I don't eat their cereal twice a day. That's the other thing I do, I go through food stages. I will not eat cereal for months, then I will eat it all the time. Two weeks ago I decided I loved cereal again and all last week I ate choco dynabites (generic coco pebbles) for breakfast, lunch and dinner some days. I also decided I loved english muffins with strawberry jam. This week I am still stuck on the english muffins but I'm sick of the dynabites and switched to the Marshmallow Mateys, which I have not eaten, bought, or really liked for the last 5 years. I usually go with the granola type cereals, Rob is more of the sweet cereal eater in the house.

Lately my tastes have been really weird, and no I'm not pregnant, and yes I am sure..very sure. It's ridiculous how every time I don't feel well, or have a food craving or gain weight or say anything people always get that goofy look on their face and ask "Are you pregggggnanttttt?????" No, I assure you I am not. "Are you suuureeeee?????" Yes I am very sure "Wellll there is a chance riiighhhtttt????" Umm..no! But if you don't believe me, feel free to take a look. Oh I'm sorry, did this just get weird?! Did this innocent conversation just get super awkward between us? Wonderful, stop asking me if I'm pregnant!! Believe me, I don't keep a lot of things to myself, EVERYONE will know when I get pregnant! Not only because I love the attention and plan on making vast amounts of obnoxious t-shirts to wear around but also because I am a huge hypochondriac and will probably think I am at death's door every 3 days. You will know when the morning sickness begins because you will be invited to the reading of my will, every Thursday at 3:30 for three months. I will also be walking around constantly screaming "MY SCIATIC!!" while I hold my back. When you see me, stomach slightly swelled, in an electric wheelchair, covered in churro crumbs, you will know that I am pregnant! Well that post got weird so I leave you with this, dieting isn't real, I'm not pregnant and they try to make me go to cereal rehab but I said no..no..no...

Meet Razzle

I thought I would introduce everyone to a couple of my personas, you've seen Dick (I'll have more background on him later) now I'd like you to meet Razzle.


Razzle Wunderlust is her name. She was born to an old hippie couple and they would spend the summers travelling the Mid U.S. selling beads and jewelry at various festivals and flea markets. Except for the one time they accidentally left her in Dayton, Ohio for a couple days when she was 9, life was pretty ordinary for little Razzle. During the school year, Razzle was home schooled, her parents felt like teachers and too much structure in a child's life would make them submissive and introverted. They always encouraged Razzle to be a free spirit and embrace who she was on the inside, and she did just that. Unfortunately her parents were terrible entrepreneurs and could barely afford to take care of themselves so at age 15 Razzle was sent to live with her aunt. Her aunt was much more strict than her hippie parents and also had a real job so Razzle was promptly enrolled into public school. Everyone there thought she was really weird and smelled like patchouli. Razzle would spend her lunch break singing and twirling in the sun, and the rest of her day staring out the window with a far off look in her eye. Her aunt work long hours so Razzle took that time to explore the city and make friends with the local bums and prostitutes, not on purpose, her hippie parents just never taught her about stranger danger.

At 18, Razzle's aunt told her she needed to go find a place of her own so she set off to start a new adventure. She got a job at a small diner where she met her roommate, Sparkle. Obviously Sparkle and Razzle were destined to become best friends, which they did. On the weekends, Sparkle and Razzle liked to go hang out at a weird dance club called "Chernobyl". They loved dancing to all the different international music the DJ would play. One night they were approached by one of the bartenders, Ramon, who worked at another club and he wanted them to check it out. Even though they didn't know Ramon all that well, they trusted him completely, something Razzle might have thought twice about if her damn hippie parents would have, once again, taught her about stranger danger, its important folks. So after Ramon finished his shift, he took the girls to this club he told them about. It was called "The Dirty Martini" and it was a strip club. Being free spirits, the girls decided to check it out and ended up talking to some of the dancers that worked there. Though Razzle and Sparkle did not see value in material items, they really wanted to travel some day and thought this might be a good place to make some extra cash. Besides, dancing was dancing, they would just have less clothes on. So like every single Lifetime movie ever made, soon things turned bad and the next thing you know Razzle is doing drugs and partying every night. She adopted the stage name "Dolla Bill" because God knows the name Razzle Wunderlust just wasn't strippery enough . One night after her shift, Ramon took Razzle to his friend's house where she meet two of the most horrific, terrifying creatures she had ever seen in her life. They called themselves Monisha and Bonisha, the prostituting hoes, they made their living flying around town on a razor scooter selling "thrills" as they called them, and even had their own ridiculous theme song. Well that was enough to make Razzle open her eyes and she vowed never to wrap her leg around a strip pole (for money) ever again! Razzle got clean and moved back in with her parents to start a new, honest way of life. Sparkle ended up falling off her trapeze one night (she was kind of a specialty act) and breaking her back. She tried to go back to stripping but soon the novelty of her act wore out. You see her vertebrae had to be fused together and no one wants to make it rain on a stripper who can only do the robot.

So that's a little about Razzle, I wish I had a picture of her but she believes getting her picture taken will steal her soul. Instead I have this composite sketch of her to share, enjoy!

Photo Ops

Ever since I was a little Rachy, I have loved performing and being in the spotlight. I remember being really little, laying out on the giant mounds of snow left from the snow plow, singing to the airplanes that flew over. I knew my grandma lived far away, so I would sing to the planes just in case she was on one of them. I also loved to sing and dress up for my family, with the help of my older siblings.
Time went by and we moved from the farm into my great grandmother's house in town. I met some neighborhood friends and one day while we were out riding our bikes we noticed a news crew downtown. So we went to investigate and they asked if we wanted to be in a shot for a story they were doing about our town being chosen as the All-American City. So of course we wanted to! I still remember it like it was yesterday, there was like 4 or 5 of us, we coasted by the camera, I made sure to nonchalantly do a one handed drive-by while I sipped my drink in the other hand, daring yet hydrated. Heck yes! That was about the time I realized that I needed to seize every opportunity I had to be apart of any news story, newspaper article, or published picture. So I did just that, mostly I just try to do casual walk-behinds but I will admit I have stalked a reporter in Hy-Vee so I could get my picture in the viewpoints section.

OOooo..me in my plumper days :D

It's not uncommon to have reporters from the newspaper stop by the library when we are having a big event, so I thought my reporter chasing days were over, I mean I'm right where the action happens! Of course I'll end up in all sorts of pictures! Then I started noticing these pictures popping up, and realized the universe was playing a cruel prank on me. I call them..."photo fails".

Presenting Dan Wardell from Iowa Public TV a surprise gift..I believe it was on their blog?

This one is from an article in the local paper about Winter Storytime.

Obviously the newspaper doesn't think I am important enough to be fully photographed, so my new plan was to just insert myself in other peoples pictures and post them on facebook, once again Thank You Microsoft Paint!

Can you even tell I'm not really there?!

The time I played back up accordian for Dierks Bentley             ^^^ They put me in back :/

Then I learned about photo bombing, my true calling in life...Some were obvious

Family Pictures, they had no idea I was back there until we got the pictures back.

Others were a little sneakier....

Can you see me? Lacey took this picture and was really creeped

out when she realized what I had done

I don't have a lot of photo bomb pictures to share because they are always on someone elses camera and it would be really weird for me to go ask people I don't know very well to send me the picture they just took at their child's graduation, because I just photo bombed it and I want to put it on my blog. So there is little proof of these so called pictures but I assure you they are out there. As you can see, I am really on my way to mastering this craft, every picture is getting a little creepier and a little stealthier. In conclusion, if you are ever taking a picture of your loved ones in a public place, look carefully, I might just be there..being creepy.

Birthday Weekend Adventure!

Well my 3 1/2 day birthday weekend is over and has ended with me gaining 4 pounds, developing a sweet new limp, a visit to the doctor's office where I got a wonderful tetanus shot and was prescribed an antibiotic that the doctor tells me can cause severe diarrhea! So I guess you'd say it was a success! Actually I had an awesome birthday, I had to work in the morning but after work I came home, my mom was over baking my birthday cake and had cleaned up my kitchen. She made a lemon sponge cake and I made lemon curd to fill it and then we "frosted" it with a whipped cream topping. It was amazing. Ellie and I had a dance party in the pool for a little while and then we ate a wonderful dinner. We BBQ'ed these little rib portions, with low-fat cheesy potatoes and baked beans, no wonder I gained 4 pounds! My mom made me this great headband that I wore all day, and I got some great gifts! We were going to have a bonfire but it was like 104 degrees out so instead we hung out in the air watching TV, which was just as good.

Yup..that's a cat card!

Then on Saturday Rob and I met his mom for lunch after that my sister, Ellie and I went fishing for a couple hours, I caught three little fish, which I was thrilled about because I haven't caught anything ALL YEAR.  During this trip I managed to cut the bottom of my foot on a rock which progressed into a limp by Monday thus me having to go get a tetanus shot and antibiotics.

Reasons why I'm not surprised when I get put on antibiotics, fish kissing...I was just really excited I finally caught something OK?!?!

After we went fishing, Rob and I went to our friends' wedding reception which was SO FUN! Great music, good food and of course the bride looked stunning! We partied til the cows came home, complete with some pretty great ribbon dancing done by my other persona, Razzle Wunderlust. She used to be an exotic dancer but she gave up the pole in hopes of a better life but sometimes when she drinks too much she goes back to her old ways. Anyways she's really into interpretive dance right now.

Oh yea! AND Rob and I got a Kindle Fire, kind of a combined birthday present for us. It's wonderful, much better than the cheap-o Black Friday sale tablet I dropped and broke a couple months ago (I was so mad at myself!).

On Sunday I went fishing again, which was a bust. When home, got groceries, made dinner, watched True Blood (YESSS!) and then at about 10:30 I had a freaking wood tick on me and screamed like a little girl while Rob yelled at me that I was a "disease carrier" for the rest of the night.

It was definitely the best birthday weekend I have ever had!

Yay! My Birthday Week!

It's my birthday on Friday! I'll be the big 2-6! Woohoo! 26 is still considered pretty young so I'm not to that point where people start dreading their birthdays. I don't think I'll ever not be excited when it gets close to my birthday, it's the one day a year where the whole day is about celebrating the fact you were born. I literally did not have to do ANYTHING, yet every year I get presents and phone calls and Facebook messages from people who are glad I exist! That's awesome! I'm not sure why my mom doesn't get any presents on my birthday, I mean she was the one who had to do all the work, I just came flying out like "HEYYYY Y'ALLLL!" (birth to age 3 was my Dolly Parton stage) and everyone was so happy to see me!

Anyways, 26! I guess I never thought about what my life would be like at 26, life could have taken me all sorts of places, I could be travelling the world, living in NYC trying to make it big, sitting on a sidewalk somewhere homeless and hungry, still living in my mom's basement, who knows! But in all the scenarios, there is one thing I never expected of my 26 year old self. Something that I figured wouldn't happen for a very long time, and I didn't think I'd come to accept. It is....the swim dress! DUN DUN DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNN!

It's a swimsuit, that's a dress! Swim dress!

Sure, it has to do more about my big girl status than my age but I think the fact that I'm about to be 26 helped me with accepting the fact that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do, but things will be ok. Was it my intention to walk into Kohl's on Saturday and buy a swim dress? Heck no, I just wanted to find a swimsuit that would keep everything in its place with as little chance of a wardrobe malfunction as possible. Even when my sister peer pressured me into taking a swim dress into the dressing room I had no intention of buying it, I was just going to try it on, laugh at how dumb I look and leave the store just as depressed and angry as I have in the past. No, I try the dumb thing on and I'm like "Oh, ok, I guess it doesn't look horrible. And everything seems secure, hmm, it is pretty comfortable. *sigh* Damn it.." So I waddle out of the dressing room to show Rob, I have to say it was the first time I think I have ever come out of a dressing room in any type of swimwear and didn't feel like a complete idiot. Of course he thinks it looks nice and fits me well. Crap. But then I check the price..$57.40?! And that's 40% off the original price. There is no way I am paying over $50 for a swim dress. I show Rob and he just shrugs, "It's gonna cost just as much if you buy the separate top and bottoms." Me- *Eye twitch* Why must he be such a math genius? So I throw the thing in the cart and we go to check out, I end up getting an extra 15% off, which is cool I guess, but it doesn't make me feel much better about the fact I kinda look like I raided the locker room after a water aerobics class. When we get home I launch the bag onto the couch and contemplate taking the thing back in the morning and trying to find something at a different store. But then I remember that I'm super lazy and that sounds like an awful lot of work to be doing on Sunday. And then I remember we are having pizza for dinner and forget about everything and spend the rest of the night watching TV with Rob and the dogs.  

The Next Day

By the time we finished our Sunday ritual of grocery shopping and got back home, it was sweltering out so I gave in, put on the swim dress and headed out to the pool in the backyard. (We've nick-named it Tranquility Bay.) With the exception of the five times Ellie, my 4 year old niece, yelled at me that I was getting my new dress wet, nothing too traumatic happened while I donned my new swimwear for all the world to see. I was able to relax, cool down in the pool and I didn't have to scramble for my towel to cover myself when I got out, like I usual do. I felt completely fine walking around the backyard in all my swim dress glory. So the moral of the story is, sometimes a dress is just a dress but other times it's a swim dress. Oh and appreciate your mother, not only for giving you a birthday but for forcing you to try on all those articles of clothing that you did not want to try on and not leaving you in the store when you throw a huge fit because you hated doing it. My kids won't be so lucky, I will leave their ungrateful butts in that Target dressing room, go home and burn every piece of clothing they own. That will teach them to embarrass me in public. Brats. Until next time!

By the time we finished our Sunday grocery shopping and got back home, it was sweltering out so I gave in put on the swim dress and headed out to the pool in the backyard we've nick-named, Tranquility Bay. With the exception of the couple times Ellie, my 4 year old niece, yelled at me I was getting my new dress wet the day went on as normal, I was able to cool down in the pool and I didn't have to scramble for my towel to cover myself when I got out, like I usual do. So considering everything I decided to accept the swim dress, maybe I can play it of as one of those vintage style suits

Dirty Little Secret

Rob and I dated for close to 6 years before we tied the knot and I'm fairly sure that means the marriage was premeditated. I think he had plenty of time to decide if he really wanted to take on this myriad of unpredictable actions and behaviors which is myself. I'm not an easy person to live with but then again sometimes I am. Sometimes I am an excellent housekeep, most of the time I'm ok at it, and sometimes there is rabbit poop in the hallway. I bring home things like used accordions and random animal bones (Yeah I know, creepy, but I was going to make art darn it!) but I also bring home bomb pops and cinnamon rolls for him. I'm a pretty open person and I have always shared my past willingly with him, he knows a lot more than I think he'd like to know about me. But there was one little tiny thing that I never told him about, one miniscule detail I wanted to keep to myself. My one dirty little secret.

Well shortly after we moved into our new home in 2009, I finally decided to tell Rob and now I will share it with you. In high school there was this guy, unlike anyone I had ever met, you could say we were extremely close, but only for a short time. We were one in the same; he gave me the power to be someone else, someone who wasn't held to the same standards set forth by society. The lyrics to Freebird pulsed through veins when I was with him, I wasn't just hearing the words, oh no, I was LIVING THEM! He was a blonde god among men, made of truth and freedom and body hair.

His name...Dick Cockburn.

Ok it’s really just me in a mustache and a mullet wig. This photo is from Dick's second appearance, this is how Rob found out about him. The first time I ever "met" Mr. Richard Cockburn was in high school, my best friend Lynsey and I were just hanging out on like a Saturday evening when we decided to dress up all 80's or something, suddenly he came to me. That mullet wig called to me, kind of like a call of the wild. The one in the picture is in fact the original mullet wig I wore the day Dick was born, but my first 'stache wasn't nearly that nice. I did not have access to awesome fake mustaches back in the day, so thanks to a unwilling donation from my Persian cat Brody, who happened to be the exact same color as the wig, and some glue, I was able to fashion myself a sweet cat fur mustache. A little saran wrap and a roll of duck tape later, I shimmied into some awesome acid washed jeans, threw on my denim vest and the rest was history!

 Rob's Reaction:

It's not out of my character to adopt different personas, but I felt like the shock of reverse drag would be too much for Rob to handle. I couldn't have been more wrong, though he was a little hesitant at first he eventually came around and accepted my newest quirk. He told me he loved me and would always accept me no matter what I did or wore. He softly brushed a blonde mullet tendril off of my face as he told me he just wanted me to be happy and if dressing up like a creepy guy stuck in the 1980's once in a while is what made me happy, then damn it he was ok with that! He straightened out my crooked mustache and said to me "Fly Freebird, Fly".

Alright so I made up that reaction. What really happened was I came out of the bedroom dressed like a dude with a rolled sock in my pants and his reply was something like "What the f$&% is that about?" Until next time! Rock on!

***Traumatic Update***

So I just showed my older sister my blog and she thought my traumatic event was hilarious. She was asking what the celebrity look alike website thing was about so I pulled up a random site and for giggles I uploaded my picture again to see what happens....it's kind of hard to post with all the tears in my eyes but at least I have proof:

Here let me get a close up shot for you....

Apparently I have gotten even less man-hot since high school...those extra pounds have demoted me from George Clooney to this sorry line up. No offense to these guys but I AM NOT A MAN! At least I got one woman :/ Good thing I'm already married otherwise this would have really done me in!

Insignificant yet life altering traumas

This is a thing that I might do, short posts about an insignificant things that have happened to me in the past but have stuck with me all this time, therefore altering my life. I figure they qualify as traumas. And here we go...

#1. Online celebrity look alike finder.
Like every high school girl ever, I was constantly worrying about what people thought of me. I never had a boyfriend or any guy pay much attention to me, I always thought it had to do with my looks, obviously it was more to do with that fact I'm a total weirdo. I never felt like I could see myself in a mirror as the rest of the world saw me, because I would notice every little flaw and determine I looked more like the Beast than the Beauty, then I would throw things and cry a lot. So I would compare myself to other people, ask my friends what I looked like, am I pretty? Do I have a big nose?! Do I look like any of these girls in this issue of "Seventeen"?!

My super great self photography from high school. Thank you Microsoft paint for making everything so much cooler.

Well one night I was searching the great world wide web, dial up of course, when I found this WONDERFUL website where you could find out what celebrity you look like! Score!! So I upload one of my many photos and who do you think was my number one match? Come on, who do you think it was?

.............
...................Drumroll......







.........

George mother f*&%$# Clooney

Twiners!!

Are you f*&%$# kidding me?! Really Internet?! So with those results and the painful blow from the time my sister Emily told me I look like John Kerry, I basically gave up at life. Jeans and hoodies it is!! Moral of the story: High school is rough, even for George Clooney look alikes :(

So that's one of my many traumas, I hope it brought you joy and you laughed at my pain :) When I am old and gray I will tell my grandkids this story and they will think I've lost it and send me off to a home, where I will sit in a rocking chair, sipping lemonade, signing peoples copies of ER.

Working Out

So before our wedding I did the whole diet, workout thing with my best squirrel friend/matron of honor and we did a pretty good job making it to the gym a few times a week, then of course after the wedding I suspended my membership because I didn't want to pay and I knew I wasn't going to go. Plus we have a treadmill in our basement so if I ever felt the need to do anything active I could always go that route. Now that its summer again I have forced myself to realize:

1. I've gained back a little weight since the wedding

2. It’s much too hot and too ridiculous to wear a tank top and shorts over my swimsuit

3. I am pretty sure I have sugar withdrawals if I go more than a few hours without something sweet, hopefully that’s not a sign of diabetes

4. All those stupid pinterest posts are right, "No matter how slow you go you're still lapping everybody on the couch" Damn you pinterest, damn you.

Alright, so since my husband works a lot later than I do I decided today that I will start walking on the dang treadmill after work. Then tonight I ate a bunch of dinner and didn't feel like getting on the stupid thing but guess what, I did it anyway! I also decided that even little tiny decisions like choosing to jog/pee wee herman run on the treadmill deserve some recognition so YaY for me! Hey whatever it takes right?! So here is a play by play of my "workout"

Things started off well

Four Minutes in, started to get a little sweaty

About 9 minutes in, my calves are on fire (nope I didn't stretch, yes I know I'm an idiot)I stopped the treadmill to go get some water, I could barely make it up the stairs, had to use my hands a little near the top to pull myself up. Got my water, back down the stairs and find instead of pausing, it completely restarted. Not happy.

*Restart*

7 minutes back in, singing to Mr Roboto, started a fast jog/run and all of a sudden the thing started flashing and I was sure the stress of my weight broke the freaking thing.

*Embarrassed Panic Mode*

Realize it just came unplugged, thank god, I really didn't want to explain to Rob I broke the treadmill actually working out (Every other time I am on it I'm usually playing around flinging small children off of it or making doggie workout videos with the Terrier Squad)

Plugged back in finished what I estimated to be about a mile, everything was inaccurate due to the multiple restarts. I moaned and groaned and pee wee ran (which is when I jog with my arms straight down and have a weird perma-smile expression on my face) the entire time but I did it! I got off the couch and did something!!

It wasn't pretty but I did it!

I know, a mile is not a big deal but it's a mile more than I would have done so I will tell myself good job and brag to my husband about it when he gets home. Like I said, whatever it takes!

Oh yeah, after all that I strutted into my kitchen, all puffed up and proud and realized I had completely forgotten about the damn cinnamon rolls I made at about 9:00 tonight. I'm not going to lie, the whole time I have been typing this all I can think about is those devil swirls of cinnamon and icing. Life's tough.

Friday Lunch Break Post

EDIT 10/21/2014 To everyone clicking on this link because you are looking up how to make angel wings for Halloween: Sorry I'm a dick and didn't do a tutorial for these. They were destroyed by the next day and got tossed so I can't even deconstruct them for you. Here is what I did:

1. Make the angel wing shape with a tab from cardboard. Like below, only better. Then do it again for the other side. You will use the two tabs to connect the wings and reinforce the wings. The big bow is covering that part. I used scraps of cardboard and layered them of the center tab piece to make it really stable.

2. On the top, inside of the wings I cut another piece of cardboard to give in more dimension. It was almost a crescent moon shape. PAINT THEM WHITE, just use craft paint. It might take a couple coats but you cannot skip this step.

"Feathers"

 FOLD a coffee filter in half. CUT in half. (The angle of this picture looks off center but cut it in the center.)

So here is your half.

Fold the half in half. Glue the layers together so they lay all nice and stuff. I just used a swipe of glue stick. Cut it into a feather like shape. Like in the picture.

Now do that a hundred some times, layer the "feathers" and glue them to the wings. I used elastic to make a very simple harness.
Sorry I didn't think to do a tutorial for these when I made them. Ironically, I always cuss out websites that only show the finished product without any info on how to actually do it. Hopefully these pictures help a little.

Addressing the photo in the Father's Day Post: this spring I was invited to a bachelorette party for an awesome friend of mine. Her theme was angel or devil, so they asked that everyone dress like either an angel or a devil. I decided to dress as an angel, you know, like a Victoria's Secret angel....just kidding, but I did choose angel. Soon I discovered those cool looking angel wings are SUPER EXPENSIVE, I am wayy too cheap and wayy too poor to deal with all that. I racked my brain and searched my house for inspiration on how to make a pair of wings. As I fell to my death after tripping over a box full of crap in my "craft room", I caught a glimpse of the pew decorations I made out of coffee filters for my wedding. Light bulb! Coffee filter angel wings!! You may be thinking what the heck is wrong with this chick, (obviously a lot) but I assure you, Martha Stewart better watch out, I'm a crafty b-word. So here is what I came up with:

Tada! Impressive right?! My actual costume was a persona I created called the "Angel of the Morning.....After" Annnnnd here is a super cute picture of that:

Oh and I am also an ordained reverend (that's another story) and when the bride-to-be was feeling a little heat fatigued I preformed an exorcism to heal her, southern baptist style:

It worked! Anyways that's my explanation for that awesome Father's Day post picture :)