I Like Old Men

Last night, and by last night I mean like 2 weeks ago, we were driving home and we passed the tennis courts on our side of town. There were a bunch of guys playing tennis, all sweaty and such and I found myself doing a double take to get another look at one of the bunch.  In the sea of hard bodies and toned calves, there he was, an Adonis among men, his gray hair catching the sun just right. "Hot daammnnn, silver fox!" I said just before remembering Rob was in the car with me, "The other day Lynsey (mah bff) asked if it's weird she's starting to think older guys are hot. I told her I didn't think it was weird because I definitely think older guys are hot. I really think we are starting to mature and realize what's important in life, like money and nice houses. It's like DAMMNN. You look well established as heelllllllll. I bet you get approved for loans INSTANTLY.  You're credit score is probably real high!"
Rob looked at me for a second and said, "I bet that Toyota of yours is paid OFF!" <---- That's how I know it's meant to be. He just gets me. Of course I yelled in reply, "HIGHLANDER MOTHA FLUCKAAAA!"

Maybe it's not just me, maybe all the hot guys from my youth are just aging really, really well. Like really well......yes.

That's what I love about these retirement community guys, man. I get older, they stay the saaame age....

 Ok not that old...I crossed a line. I apologize. But seriously, older dudes, feel free to take your nightly after dinner walks passed my place.... ;)

The Goose Story

One time my friend at work was talking about getting a gosling, naming it Ryan and letting it live in her pocket. Yes, she and I are probably soulmates. This reminded me of the goose story.

When I was a child, we lived on an acreage. On our acreage was our house, it was actually an underground house.

 

Artist Sketch

(After I made that beautiful sketch I found this picture. This was after we abandoned it for a few years so the windows are boarded up and it looks like crap but you get the idea.)

Side note: apparently I am an amazingly accurate artist.

So one day my mom was home, cleaning the house with the windows open. As you can see the windows are at ground level. No screens of course, that way we didn't have to use the stairs, we would just jump in and out of them. While she was cleaning, she heard a crazy  murder noise outside and saw that our dog was attacking a Canadian goose out in the yard. Being a hero, she ran out to get the dog away from the goose. She was chasing the dog away and the goose escaped. Not seeing it anywhere she was all *shoulder shrug* "Meh!" and returned to the house. When she got inside she found the goose had gotten inside by jumping through the window and was FREAKING out, which is to be expected I guess. Eventually she was able to get it out of the house but it was injured so it couldn't fly away. So it just hung out by the apple tree, chillin'.

Once we got home we decided to net the thing. Basically we ran around screaming like banshees taking turns throwing some kind of definitely not a goose net thing over it while it hissed and tried to bite us. Finally we got the hammock or what ever the hell we were using on the goose and I tackled it to the ground like Steve Irwin tackles crocodiles in heaven. We put it in the box and planned on taking it this pond area in town where all the other geese hang out. I think we assumed one of the other geese was a goose shaman and would be able to magically heal it's broken ass wing. None of what we did that day made any god damn sense. We dropped my little sister off at my mom's boyfriend's house and heading to the pond to reunite it with it's family. By the time we got there it was already dead. It had been dead for a while. THEEE END!
 

You Are What You Pretend To Be..Even a Unicorn!

I basically had the best weekend ever. Our story begins on Saturday when I walked into Kohl's and found the mecca of Peter Pan collar tops. I've literally been searching for several weeks for these fancy blouses so it was a very dramatic moment. Then on Saturday night I hung out with some pretty cool folks which was alright for the most part and THEN! ON SUNDAY! We went to Wizard World Comic Con and it was THE BEST. I had so much fun. We saw some awesome artists, I got to meet Jason Mewes, took some selfies together and got an autograph, bought a lot of cool art prints and stuff, looked deep into my soul and discovered an embarrassing passion, paid $4 for a small powerade, you know all the normal things one does while at a convention.
...................
 Fine. I'll say it. I'm only 93% ashamed to admit it. I enjoy making costumes and wearing them, on Halloween... and also to other events such as Comic Con. It was super fun and an excellent creative outlet for me. I will not use the term "cosplay" when referring to myself because that's super lame. I just like to dress up in costumes. It's not a big deal, I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. I'm not a weird cosplayer...... that's what I kept telling myself when I was in the bathroom at the convention center adjusting my tail and applying more purple lipstick...

Yes. I know I'm a giant nerd, I figured that out this morning when I was almost late for work because I was trying to adjust the way my new Jurassic Park employee badge was hanging from my rear view mirror. And it was set in stone when I was explaining to my co-worker that I hung it up there so it would look like I actually work there and have to show it when I drive up to get into the facility. Safety rules and precautions be damned, looking like I am a certified dino park ranger is totally worth the obstruction of my vision while driving. 

I'm just really embarrassed by the whole thing and asking myself what brought me to this point. I imagine this is the same feeling parents feel when they find out their teenage son had been collecting strands of hair he finds around and has turned them into a softball size hairball. With a face. Like I'm not really ok with it but I'm trying to understand and keep an open mind.

Here's a picture of my cospla...costume.

Husband and I getting our pose on

Nice Ads: You been working out?

First of all, I want to say thank you to all those who view my blog! Whether you like me or hate me, I appreciate the dedication to whichever side of the cause you are on. I can't say it enough how sincerely grateful I am that people actually read this crap. Truly grateful. I love you all.

Secondly, now that Google finally approved my blog to display ads, as shitty as they might be at times, I am proud to announce my blog has finally gotten off it's lazy ass and starting pulling it's weight around here. Yes, that's right, my blog has made me money. This cash cow has raked me in a whole $1.16 in the last two months. I'm thinking about quitting my job. Actually, I find the ads a little annoying (not you Amazon Kindle, we cool) but I figure if I keep my chin up maybe someday they will be better. Like right now, as I am typing this, the ad displayed is a poor quality, probably stolen off someone's old MySpace page picture of a very respectable woman dressed like a skank with the caption "Get a Girlfriend now" in a generic font. Full of class, just like myself.

I was kind of upset when I realized the ads I was so thrilled to get ended up being a bunch of weird, phishy looking dating sites and "talk to women near you" banners. Apparently they feel those ads are relevant to my blog..perhaps it is time for me to self-reflect on the content I am posting. I'm working on getting those ads changed but until then try to restrain yourself from clicking them. Sure I will make like 5 cents if you do but it's really, really not worth it to me. Feel free to click away if the Amazon Kindle guy comes back or any other legitimate looking ad. Other than that, just steer clear. Especially if you are a relative and are just going to end up calling me and asking "Can you come look at my computer?! IT'S acting WEIRD..." Yeah well, don't click on my shitty ads. Life lessons.

30 seconds later
Update: Hahahaha. Funny story. So I published this post and viewed it so I could share it to Facebook, as one does, when I realized I'm a total fucking idiot. Obviously, AdSense is one of those things that pulls your search history for what ads to display. When I pulled my blog up on my phone it displayed an ad for Comic Con and clothing store. Clearly the weird hot singles and get a Girlfriend dressed like a skank ads are targeting my laptop history. I thought to myself "MY HUSBAND HAS GOT SOME MOTHER PLUCKING EXPLAINING TO DO." Then I remembered he uses his own laptop and I had a flashback to one of my late night pursuing of those creepy Craigslist personal ads. Yes, I admit it, sometimes I look at those creepy ads in hopes of snapchatting some really great pictures to my bestie. DON'T JUDGE ME.
Honestly I can't believe I'm such an idiot. I was blinding by my new-found fortune. I'm still posting this and feel free to give me shit about it forever and ever.

She Works Hard For The Money

I try to keep my work life and my personal life separate. If you ever come in and see me at work, you may notice I look like a deer in headlights and our conversation will be very short. It's not that I don't like you or that I don't want to talk to you, sometimes I just feel like I am being watched and my every move is being monitored. You know, just your everyday, run of the mill, non-paranoid thoughts. No biggie.*Puts on tinfoil hat*

Same thing goes if I see regulars outside of work. Most of the time they don't really recognize me out of context but once in awhile I get someone really hellbent on figuring it out. A couple weekends ago I stopped by to watch my sister do karaoke and I sang a couple songs with her. Throughout the maybe hour or two I was there, this guy kept coming up to me saying, " I know you! How do I know you?! Hey guys, how do I know her?" I kept telling him I didn't know what he was talking about and he was confusing me with someone else. I was literally seconds away from putting on a fake (and unconvincingly terrible) Russian accent and yelling random words at him in an attempt to hid my true identity. What I thought this would accomplish, I have no idea. It was definitely one of those "It's so crazy, it might just work!" moments.

Eventually my personal life does tend to seep into my work life. Sometimes I meet people at work who I think are really cool and I talk to them about my real life. Or I'll talk about my weekend shenanigans. I just don't want people to walk in and and start running their mouths in front of my bosses like "HEY! Nice snapchat of you peeing on a gravel road!" or "HEY! Remember that time I saw you at that concert screaming World Star Hip Hop while that guy was being arrested!?" or "HEY! Was that you making out with a cardboard stand up of Zachary Quinto? You know he's gay in real life right?" Yeah I do know. How about you worry about your own life and leave me and Sylar alone in our forbidden love!

Quit calling me out in front of my work peeps, yo. Respect the code! Being told my every personal thought and action, such as adventures in anal suppositories, passing out on New Year's before 11:00pm in my friend's bathroom and my part-time dressing up like a man by the name of Dick Cockburn, even when you don't want to know and you never asked for this life.. is a PRIVILEGE! One I will not revoke but if you come in talking that shit, I will tp your house. Me, cardboard Sylar and all my awkward papercuts.

Kids - Tiny Jerks in Cute Packaging

Kids are assholes. Ok or maybe adults are just overly sensitive to the innocent questions children sometime ask. Or remarks they make because they just don't realize it might be hurtful. Even their compliments can come off as rude. But they're kids, they don't understand. To kids, adults seem like superheros. They can do everything and are strong & smart.  Basically they are invincible. They don't understand that adults have feelings can be hurt just as easily as their own. Eventually kids grow up and believe me, once they realize their mistake, they feel like total dicks.
Like the time I was super, really sure I hated meatloaf. Probably because whenever my mom made it, she overloaded it with onions and I REALLY hated onions. Naturally I didn't want anything to do with it but my aunt made it for us and I asked over and over to just try it. So finally I caved and surprisingly, I really liked it! I was so pleased with this wonderful meatloaf and how it didn't taste like ass onions, I exclaimed, "Hey!! I like this! It just tastes like hamburger but with lots of ketchup!" I don't remember exactly what occurred next but my years of crushing guilt tell me it wasn't pleasant. To a kid, that statement makes completely sense, I thought it was going to be bad but it wasn't so I likened to something that tasted good. According to my underdeveloped palate, hamburger and ketchup was fucking awesome and out of the maybe 25 flavor combinations I was aware of at that point in life, one of them being dog shit, it seemed like the most accurate description.

I can think of a hundred asshole things I did and said as a kid and apparently it all came back ten fold in my niece. I can handle the occasionally "Why do your legs have all those bumps?" or "AUNTIE! You and her have the same eyebrows!" As she points to the TV showing Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest.

Touché child, touché

But nothing, NOTHING had prepared me for the talk my sister had with me the other day. She sat me down and said, "I have to tell you something. The other day, we were playing the Wii and Ellie said she wanted to change her character name. Because she doesn't want to be Squid anymore. And she said she doesn't want you to call her that anymore either."

I could literally feel my heart breaking in my chest. I don't know if I have ever felt that level of devastation in my entire life. She has been my Squid forever. My Squid, my little bug, ripped out my heart and stomped on it. I know she has no idea but it still hurts. Damn kids.

Conversations with Rob: Butt What?

We were in the car the other evening having a conversation about dinner. I can't remember exactly the conversation but I think I said something about mashed potatoes and he replied with singing the phrase, "Put a potato, in your butt..." I gave him a look of "WTF" and he says, "What? It's an Eddie Murphy song..." Being the annoyance I am I told him, "No. That's Butters' song." This threw Rob into a frenzy and after a short rant he began feverishly searching on YouTube for the recording while I tried to hurry and get home so I could jump out of the car before he could prove me wrong. He finally gets it pulled up on his phone as we hit the driveway but alas, it's a super long intro. We are now in a sitoff in the car, I slowly turn off the car and undo my seat belt. All the while he is saying "NO..NO.....NO... YOU STAY. YOU LISTEN." I slowly reach back, grab my purse and pull my hand on the door handle. Right as I open the door, the lyrics kick in. I run to the front door, while he is celebrating his victory to the soundtrack of "Boogie in Your Butt" by Eddie Murphy. Also, we just got new phones and they play music super, SUPER loud. He is essentially walking towards me with a tiny, super sonic bombox held up to the heavens blasting the lyrics "Put a c-lock, in your butt..put a big rock, in your butt!" Anyone within a block radius is enjoying the sweet sounds of Donkey from Shrek singing about putting everyday objects in butts.

To make it more awkward, while I'm trying to unlock the front door, which is suddenly impossible to do, he decides to announce to the neighborhood, "THIS IS THE KIND OF MUSIC SHE LISTENS TO. SHE'S A FREAK!" All while pointing at me and giving me a disapproving look.