BeAsTLY

a dormant beast has been awakened.

this beast feeds only on buttered toast with jam. and sometimes cheese. don't cross this beast or she will scream obscenities and pillage your candy stash.

christmas has come and gone. no tears were shed, which is quite the accomplishment. i love my family. i also love buttered toast with jam.

the next emotional hurdle we need to jump over is a birthday/end of the year celebration. last year i watched little women by myself. it was good, but i think this year could be better.

when i was in high school, my parents threw me a surprise party at a mexican restaurant.  the execution wasn't as should be, and i was late...long story short, "DO YOU WANT ME TO COME TO DA RESTAURANT NAKED, DAD????" was heard on speakerphone by 20 young adults around the table.

kim possible

i have only one basket...but lots and lots of eggs. what to do? if we were speaking strictly scientifically, and not in a metaphoric/symbolic way i could even say i was born with 1 to 2 million immature eggs...but that is gross to talk about, so i won't.

i saw the hobbit: an unexpected journey. it was as expected: freaking awesome!

the last time i saw a movie in 3D my glasses were fogged up with my unabashed tears. that damn love montage in UP gets me every time. i want a cartoon love like that.

i know a baby who looks like the old man from up. well, i don't know this baby, but i look at her pictures on facebook. you know how i feel about baby's with glasses. have i talked about baby's with glasses too much? never mind. not possible.

muchos gracias, fat baby.

the other day, my dear old dad typed me a simple message. "may i have access to your BLOG?"
i laughed at it's formality. of course you can! no biggie! it's just a blog...

 but then i realized it was more than a blog. it was the innermost workings of my mind. i am granting unnamed visitors access to things usually left tolled for with long standing friendship, relativity or coincidence putting you in my path after little sleep.

well dad, you're welcome. your daughter is a freak. enjoy this show for free.

whenever i do something especially weird, my dad , whose tolerance is now high, responds with a very diplomatic "you are one of the most interesting people i've ever met." if i knew how, i would italicize the word interesting. you'd know exactly how he said it then. he can say that as much as he wants though, cause everyone knows i'm at least 50% of his making.

when my dad was little he spent hours and hours creating his own nature hike in his yard. he identified plants and marked the little forest with homemade wooden signs.
when my dad was voted homecoming king, he hid so that he wouldn't have to do the first dance.
when my dad was little he would run to beat the bus home so that when it drove past his place he could be on his tractor and look cool in front of the other kids (i always showed off with my chores too, chuck!)

it's funny to think of our parents as little. i have a picture of my dad as a baby sitting by my bed. i think it's my favorite picture of all time. except for that one where the mona lisa is holding a corgi dog. not even baby chas can top that. sometimes i stare at it (the chuck one) and giggle...and sometimes i cry. something about babies makes me go emotionally bonkers.

i've never met a baby i didn't like...except for that old looking skinny one. hopefully i get to have a baby one day. i really want it to be fat and wear baby glasses... but i guess as long as it's healthy i will be happy (but extra happy if its fat, god!) i was watching a fat baby once and it took everything in my being not to kidnap it to mexico. my grandparents would be very unhappy with me if i did. they don't like mexico.

my christmas wishlist

1. 2 inches
2. a teleporter to send me my dog
3. 1 million dollars and t-shirts with funny sayings to shoot through one of those baseball game guns at unsuspecting homeless people
4. jo and laurie to fall in love
5. the man at starbucks wearing a poofy vest to wisk me away to canadian paradise
6. my "hometeam" to be all together from near and far.

but since those things won't happen i will settle for all the good things i already have!

“Everybody has a home team: It’s the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It’s the people who, near or far, know everything that’s wrong with you and love you anyways. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they’re at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people.” -shauna niequist

Thanks a.m.m for a wonderful reminder! 

gratzi

it's that time of the night. tea has been consumed, a few chapters read, teeth frantically flossed, sports bra sported and i start to write a blog. writing a blog is usually what happens when there is nothing else to do.

of course, there is plenty to do. get a job, loose 15 pounds, check the oil in my car and get galavants converted to dvd. but of course, i can do all of that tomorrow.

i wouldn't say i am a procrastinator. well, i might...but i won't right now, for the sake of my point...being that didn't jesus say not to worry about tomorrow/jobs/15lbs/oil/galavants?

jk jk jk jk jk jk jk.

when i want to do something, i do it hard.

when i wanted to get a role of alice wendlekin in the attic children's theatre production of "the best christmas pageant ever" did i craft a very detailed theatrical resume (including my ability to speak in accents, play the saxophone and turn flips), memorize the script and dressed the role for my audition? nailed it. got the part. BAM.

when i wanted to get a cat named tootsie from homestead meadows farm did i made sure chuck and ann knew why with aflip chart presentation why getting a cat would teach me responsibility? done. did i ever clean that littler box? no. BAM! (was tootsie a boy? yes.)

when i wanted to go to open floor at gym kids on friday night did i tell my dad i would clean the entire downstairs before he would take me, but cry because i was overwhelmed which made my sister take pity on me and clean it for me?   BAM. BAM. BAM.

WARNING: what baby wants, baby will get. mostly with the help of others...but rome wasn't built by one person. that's the saying, right?

i've been to rome. it smelled pretty weird. but there was gelato. lord have mercy, there was gelato.

hey now, you're an all star.

barbara walters pisses me off. i don't really care for katie couric, either. that hot girl on espn can stay though. that's for sure.

i hate the state of florida. i'm sorry, but it sucks. harry potter world is the only good thing about it.

i love the special needs boy who got my phone number and texted me that he liked "fruit saled". i like fruit salad too, as long as there isn't too much melon. woof. nobody likes excessive melon.

i wore a nice outfit, did my hair and wore makeup... and got a lot more attention from men than what is normal. smiles, winks, doors held open, etc. this concludes my experiment asking "do boys care about anything other than looks?" i can't publish the results until the Institutional Review Board approves my research methods.

i had to do a research paper for my methods of communicative research class. it was about waist to hip ratio preference for men. i did a lot of binge eating after that...which means i'd be a hit in both south america and africa.

i make a lot of jokes at my own expense, but then get sensitive when people make fun of me. maybe if i make fun of that, it will equal it all out.

someone once told me i mask my true feelings with humor. but, someone else once told me the world is gonna roll me, i ain't the sharpest tool in the shed.

i wanna be an all star and hide karate medals in my closet.

the first time i binged on candy was in my closet. it was a bag of sam's club brand peanut butter cups. now i know it's better to eat those in your bed watching sense and sensibility. (you can hide the wrappers under your pillow when someone comes in!)

RIP Lil'BoBo

i had a reunion last night.

i was nervous, excited and flooded with the best and worst memories.

i saw him hanging out on a street. i've never seen him there before. he looked good. real good.

he is my first car. a 1985 baby blue plymoth horizon. 4 doors, cause i'm classy.

i called him lil'bobo. he wasn't the coolest, safest or most reliable car...but he got me from a to b. well, he got me from a to z. there were lots of stops in between.

without warning, lil' bobo would start smoking from the hood and i would have to pull over. i took lots of rides from strangers. i felt the car was more dangerous.

my dad made a cooling device for lil'bobo because he didn't have air conditioning. now that i think of it, i don't know if he had heat either. what he lacked in efficiency, he made up for in novelty. and matchmaking.

lil'bobo also had a hankering for stopping when i reversed. nbd, unless you are in the over populated neenah high school parking lot at the end of the day. ptl, a couple of senior hotties were always there to help. i played the damsel in distress, and their developing muscles and soccer mops easily pushed me to safety, and tuller road.

personal interaction with those hotties gained me major points in my quest to go from 2 friends to hanging out with the cool kids. i'd like to think it was more lil'bobo and less of my hellen keller impressions and prank call skills that got me to my spot with the "corner kids".

we laid lil'bobo to rest sometime during my junior year. i upgraded to a jeep and my youth pastor told me not even he would buy lil'bobo from me. he suggested putting weights on the gas pedals and sending him for a long term baptismal into lake winnebago. i was sad about it, so chas took one of his seats out for me to keep as a memory.

that seat still rests in our garage. next to suzi, the armless mannequin and the vinyl couch i stole from the teachers lounge. he may be gone, but memories of him rest in my heart forever. and on the street tyler lives on.

yer so g-darn cute, bobby.

tonight is my first night in my new home. i almost didn't make it...BECAUSE I WENT TO THE WRONG HOUSE.

i didn't go to the house next door. or even a house that looked like the house i was supposed to go to. i went to some random house on a random street that was NOT the house or street i belonged at.

i would have laughed, but i almost dropped the jar of salsa i was carrying.

these sort of mental lapses happen to me all the time. usually when i see a corgi or someone is telling me something important. i can't be sure what it is. although, i saw cases similar to this in the dementia home i worked at.

i think its because i think too much. think too much about yesterday and tomorrow but never right now. i also think about boys.

i have almost no money. but even that can't motivate me to get a job. i wished i lived in a world where student loans could be payed with sweet thoughts, and dental work with high-fives. this world doesn't exist yet...but if bobby can have his own world, so can sonia.

sonia world would be awesome.

tub full of snakes

i took the road less traveled by. seriously. the entire stretch of south dakota was only occupied by me and an occasional truck driver. robert was right. it did make all the difference.

i drove 80 mph. i talked on the phone. i didn't have white knuckles and a tension headache post journey. i did have a mini-panic attack before going over a bridge, but my co-pilot scared my fear right out of me.

i haven't always had a fear of driving. no. i used to feel on top of the world bouncin' on my 24s and off roading with my high school love interest in my jeep cherokee. the fear is all thanks to a fateful collision in the bike lane downtown minneapolis. the butch haircut and lack of concern for my completely totaled saturn installed in me the knowledge that i am not in control of my life on the road. there will always be a lesbian driving in the bike lane.

i don't know why being slightly scared of driving is such a big deal. i can pick up snakes and spiders and baby rats. i don't mind speaking in front of a thousand people or riding roller coasters. truth be told, i would happily do all those things at the same time before driving over vancouver's lion's gate bridge ever again. my fear may be silly,  but you know what? to each their own. don't make fun of me katie yoder   co-pilot, and i won't make fun of your unrealistic and over dramatized fear of being dunked into a tub of snakes. (that's a lie. i will, because that's ridiculous)

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

i am olympic gold medalist shawn johnson.

superstar

sonia : 1
dentist: 300

don't be fooled. this is still a victory for me.

also, don't be fooled by people telling you to use laughing gas

1. it doesn't make you laugh
b. it makes you feel like your body is about to explode
3. could be just me, but i had them shut it off and did it the old fashioned way. swig of whisky. piece of leather to bite on.

i think i get special treatment because i'm little. and because i cry. whatever the reason, i felt like a champion today with all the "oh my gawsh! you are doooin' soooo goood sweetheart!" and "wow! you are our superstar patient today!" part of me was embarrassed because i am 26, but the majority of me just liked being called a superstar. i've always loved the spotlight.

comedic genius

i bought the most magical thing at a thrift store for $3 yesterday. i haven't been this excited about an inanimate object since i got a marionette doll for my birthday.

i was talking to my sister on the phone after i forced my dad to tell me who had the cutest baby pictures. " sarah is his favorite daughter! you are his favorite baby pictures! what do i have going for me!?!"

somehow, partial hearing heard this, and with impeccable comedic timing called up the stairs "you have my favorite dog!".  nice one chas. you're getting better with this whole joking thing.

game world, fun for every hmong

my mom walked in on me singing into a hairbrush. i thought that only happened in the movies, but i proved myself wrong. i also thought it was only embarrassing in the movies. wrong again.

the only thing more embarrassing than engagement pictures (don't get me started) is honeymoon pictures. "here is a picture of one of us standing in the water. now here is another picture of the other one standing in the water. here is a picture of our room where we have lots of sex. does that make you uncomfortable? ok, fine then here are 120 pictures of just one of us standing awkwardly in front of a beach, zip line, hotel lobby or festive mexican street market. maybe we'll do the self timer and stand in the water together!".

ok. i guess the only thing worse than engagement and honeymoon pictures is me looking through them. every time. and complaining about it.

my dad told me he went to see a james bond movie instead of prom. he started the confession with "listen to how much of a nerd your dad was..." to which i reminded him that he was talking to the girl who went to Game Word in GreenBay instead of her dances. he didn't remember that so he asked"who'd ya go with?" "just all the other nerdy girls, dad." i didn't go to dances but i was damn good at dance dance revolution.

there is nothing wrong with being non-traditional...or nerdy, as my dad puts it. I would wager a pretty penny that my times spent at game world were a lot more fun and a lot less expensive than the neenah high school gym prom. i would also like to make a future wager that my honeymoon will be a lot more fun when i save myself $5,000 bucks and a digital cameras battery life by not going to a sandals couples resort and documenting the whole thing.

or maybe i will. i just won't put it on facebook.

manly fantasies

they say the best thing about waking up, is folgers in your cup. while i do love a warm coffee hug in the morning, i disagree. the best thing about waking up is knowing you can go back to bed whenever you want.

for the past two weeks i spend my days trying to remember what i forgot. everyday i wrack my brain asking myself just what it was that was so important. then i lay myself to sleep and put my hands behind my head. ahhh. then i remember. deodorant!

my bed is a disaster zone. i occupy a strict 5' x 2' area, but my bed is still full. it is mostly full of books. i have adult add and can't just read one at a time. and i also don't have the time to put them back on my shelves. currently on the racks of my sleepy library are 2 david sedaris memoirs, a huge ass book of scandinavian fairy tales (i read the pancake man last night) jesus calling (all good christians read it), and my ibook from 2006. thats a computer, but it has the word book in it so i thought it should count too. at the bottom of my bed are at least 12 pairs of socks. (seriously, who can sleep with socks on???) bras, pants, a mens pajama set that i somehow take off in the middle of the night and an occasional bowl that was once filled with pickles at 4am.

my sleeping habits have become more than habits. obsessive compulsive rituals may be too strong of a title, but we're gaining on that. When i was little I forced myself to breathe out of my mouth because i was scared my nose would get plugged at night and i would die. now i know only chubby people breathe through their mouths, so i started sleeping with a fan to aid my respiratory system. little did i know the fan also covered up all those annoying noises i used to tolerate. wind. clocks ticking. dad's snoring. the soft soft sound of my own breaths.  i used to be so gracious. if left without a fan or whitenoise app on my ipod, i toss, turn and sometimes cry myself through a sleepless night, thinking of my beautiful turbo power mini fan bought on sale at wal-greens.

i've tried to ween myself slowly from my mini-fan dependence. i stopped letting it be the first thing i packed when traveling. i allowed for it only when there was adequate space. (somehow there always was....who needs underwear, really?) i know it is a joke. i know that my husband will snore and breathe heavier than any turbo fan could cover up. i know that i can conquer this. but i think i'll focus on my other fears first. i need my fan.

looks like i just did a bed themed blog. i love themes. i think they're funny. i once had a 101 dalmations themed room. then i had a broadway musical theme. nowadays, i just have a dream to go to one of those themed hotels. i think they're used mostly for weird lovers and their role play, but whose to say they're the only ones who can have fun and whose to say role play can only be for intimate times? while my hotel neighbors will be enjoying their arabian palace for sexy-time, i will happily be living out my little house on the prairie fantasies (the appropriate kind) in the covered wagon room talkin' to imaginary pa and wishin' Manly Wilder was there to walk me home from school!

popcorn bucket

I’ve got a pocket full of sunshine and a mouth full of fillings. I’d rather have that than a potty mouth. I’m pretty sure my dog has a potty mouth, because his breath smells like the boy’s gym bathroom. Woof.

Once again, I am at home. Nothing says “dependence” more than a mommy-daughter date to the DMV to get your licenses renewed…to the same address. Whatever, man. It’s nice to have some consistency.

I tried to teach my mom how to use a stability ball. The only thing we learned was that trying to teach your 63 year old mother how to use a stability ball only leads to bladder instability.

I’m moving to Washington. Well, I’m putting stuff in my car and driving there. Seems like such a waste after renewing my license. My picture was horrible though…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a re-do.

Maybe I’ll just get an up-do. I once had to for a friends wedding. It cost me 60 bucks for a overweight woman who smelled of Brittany Spears’ “Circus” to tease my hair and give me 3 curls. I paid for the experience, no doubt.

I asked a boy I know to tell me a funny story. He told me his mom got drunk at a No Doubt concert and threw up in a popcorn bucket. If you have a better story than that, I’d like to hear it. I’m doubtful a better story exists. Although, I heard Anna Karenina is ok.

keepin yous guyses on da edge of your seatz

today, my dad yelled up from the basement "Sonia! I want yeh to come take a look at my well engineered package!"

he of course was referring to the packaging he put together to mail my sisters Christmas presents. I didn't have the heart to tell the engineer that the comment was slightly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he was right. The package was well engineered...as always.

He is an engineer...but an inventor at heart. There have been many interesting devices found on the Malmquist homestead in the past. One of my favorites was a car cooling system that involved a large funnel and tube that you would aim at yourself while driving to cool you down. Functional, yet not very safe.

He was the talk of the graduation party circuit when he came up with a keg-cooling device. We got lots of calls from jealous dad's wanting to rent it for their kids' fete. "You can borrow it, and I'll give yeh da blueprints for it too." So generous.

Hands down, best chas invention would have to be...well, you'll just have to wait for that post. i need to have some sort of leverage with you.

harry potter saved my year

a very inspiring person told me that creativity is my job. that i need to work at it like it were the career that pays me bucksdelux. that i can't neglect it because i'm not feeling "inspired". that everyday i need to do a little bit--weather it's my seemingly silly blog, one of my 10 unfinished paintings or a brief 10 minutes on the piano or learning a new song.

i am a creative being. a creature of plight.

it's hard to do what you love sometimes.

i gave up coffee. that was hard too. well, i didn't give it up...i am abstaining...most of the time. I went from 3 cups a day to 1 cup in 5 days. it has been slight torture, but my adreanal system will thank me later.

i also gave up sugar. i feel a little guilty unwrapping a reeses as i write, but i'm trying to be honest. i don't know what my sugar intake was "back then"...but im pretty sure i've gone from 10 future cavities to only 3 or 4.

im sitting here at a booth at a coffee shop. when i came in, it was empty. now it is full. now i am getting evil eyes from groups of 2 wanting the booth from the 1 girl eating a reeses. i feel a little bad, but not really.

if you're looking for a great book, i must recommend Ann Lemont's Traveling Mercies: thoughts on faith. really, truly. i wouldn't say so if it wasn't awesome. boys and girls will enjoy. cynics too. i trust anything written by a woman with dreadlocks.

its almost my year long anniversary of the worst year of my life. but it's getting better. maybe it wasn't even really the worst year of my life. maybe it was just a really weird, hard, awkward year. yeah, that's it. there were good things in it, too. i mean, i went to harry potter world.