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.