newzflash

i've been on a blogging hiatus cause i've been super busy texting teenz. i can tell you what ily means, how to flash yo lazy duces, and the eptimology of the word bae. one day soon i'll get some white lipstick and a blond curly do, and try to convince the high school that my name is josie gheller and that i'm a high school student.

here is a quick update on all things me:

accidently pulled sexy underware out of my bag onto the dunn brothers counter.
crashed my car into a rock and now have a red bumper.
got my heart broken by a boy-became an evil monster-then let it go like elsa told me to.
live in a basement (again)
eat random packaged foods that people donate as snacks for highschoolers as my meals.

more on all these things and more later. off to push the dirty clothes to the side of my bed and curl in with a harry potter audio book. ILY

Dear Alfred.

Dear Alfred,
Almost 7 years ago, I made a foolish choice that forever changed my life for the better. I brought you home with me--and by home I mean the basement of 86 New Brighton Rd. I don't think my roomates were thrilled at the thought of a furry beast living with us, but for the first time maybe in my whole life, i didn't care what anyone thought. I wanted you.
When I saw you I just knew you were supposed to me mine. I'll never forget bringing you home, wrapped up in a old towel. You were shaking and whimpering until I brought you downstairs. You just stood there for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. I'm pretty sure you peed on the carpet.
You became my best friend pretty fast, Alfie. You were named after Alfred Topel, resident of Island Shores Retirement Home. I loved him because he was ever kind and friendly--always joyful. You lived up to his name. You loved to play--although you never did quite get the hang out fetch. Unless of course it was with "squeaky". You sure loved squeaky.
You always seemed to know when I needed some extra love. When you were still a puppy you laid on my chest and licked up all my salty heartbroken tears. I swear you knew what I was feeling. You became quite the therapy dog for me--I would tell you all my worries and fears--and you'd sit there, your big brown eyes looking right into mine. You were the only thing that got me out of bed some days Alfred. Even at my most depressed, you could make me smile.
You lived a dogs dream. Free roam in the country. I watched you and my dad slowly become friends. At first, I asked him if he loved you. He said he didn't think people could love animals. Alfie, when he told me you were gone, I've never seen him so sad in all my life. He loved you and you helped him learn how to. You were his best buddy--you weren't the only one who looked forward to your weekly Menards trip, or filling the bird feeders together. You knew his name and would look out your window whenever I said he was coming home and would always greet him with the same response: utter joy. I will miss watching you two do your dumb tricks-dance, sit tall, over-under. I loved those shows, no matter how many times i'd seem them before. I'm sad because I don't know who will be my dad's buddy now. He loved your morning routine--he'd drink his coffee while you'd sit on his lap looking for birds. He'd call me when you'd do something weird, or sweet or naughty. He and I understood how special you were.  
I will miss all the friends we'd make because of you. Impromptu birthday party entertainment, brightening up a senior's day, or how you would gently let little people explore your mop of hair. You were a friend to everyone.
You gave my mom comfort so many times. You'd keep her pillow warm until it was time for bed. When dad told you it was "time to wake up ann" you'd dutifully climb the stairs and give her a kiss. She's going to miss that wake up call. She'll miss you sitting on the sun porch with her. She'll miss you getting into her purses and stealing her mints. She'll miss your fear of your own toots. She'll miss you scratching her legs while you ride on her lap.
You helped Dee get over her fear of dogs. I'll never forget how amazed we all were when she wanted to take you for a walk. I still giggle thinking about the first time she pet you...she was so nervous and timid. The last time she saw you, you waited outside her door until i brought you in and put you in her bed. She told me to! Only you could have won your way into her heart.
Even though you pooped on Sarah's cookbooks, I saw the way she loved to have you close. She loved the way you and my dad were inseparable. You helped her too when she was sad. You'll never know how much it calmed us down, or lifted our spirits when you'd lay next to us, letting us pet your hair.
I think the moments I will miss with you the most are when you' sleep in my bed. In the middle of the night, I'd call you to me and you'd lay so close to my head, I'd often wake up with your hair in my mouth. You loved my bed because you could look right out the window to your kingdom. You'd lay there for hours with me, looking between me and the world. It was hard to get out of bed with you right there beside me. I loved knowing if you left to get breakfast, I could always count on seeing your hair sticking out from under my door. Just laying there waiting to come back in.

I've been in tears the last 3 days, knowing all these things are just memories now. I don't know what it will be like without you in our lives, fred. You were so much more to us than just a doggie. You were a life-changing gift to us all. You helped heal my broken heart, you helped conquer fears, you were a friend to the lonely and a delight to us all.  We will never forget your Alfred. Thank you for loving us all.

camp krista, this ones for you.

I ran into an old friend from college. he asked me to remind him of my name. guess I'm scribbling his signature out of my yearbook.


ordered cinnastix to my new place and called the middle aged delivery man my hero. no shame


made a REAL online dating profile. got lotz of winks and messagez. deleted all 30.


had a panic attack in walmart. made my dad think I was "excited" for a good deal. cried in the car and looked at anxiety book pdfs.


live by myself and have to use a stool to reach (every)things. never wear pants. talk to myself a lot. and sing show-tunes.


all these things might be related, but I don't quite know for sure. basically I'm your typical 20 something gal, livin life in the big city, dreamin of $$ and sippin' cosmotinis and wearing heelz.

because you've asked

my dream job:

taking care of farm animals, while writing free lance satire, holding babies, doodling, visiting with elderly and baking cookies. scouring thrift shops for re purposed items and preforming in community theater production of fiddler on the roof. watering plants and braiding horse manes whilst dressed up in a costume making a funny video. 

i haven't seen anything like this yet, but i've yet to check craigslist. 

48 bottles banished to the basement

my friend is starting a clipart bizniz, and i have never been more jealous. if only i could start a paint  program/ paste peoples heads on other peoples bodies biz. I'D BE RICH.

i'm applying for my dream job currently. and by applying, i mean thinking about applying and second guessing my abilities.

sometimes i pride myself for only getting crushes on celebrities over 50 and absolute weirdos, but i'm pretty sure i have a crush on someone who is neither of the two. this crush is so extreme that all fine motor skills escaped me when he entered a 2 foot radius. my friend told me my eyes bulged and i made a yelping noise. much better than the eye swolleness and crying sounds i would make about that last crush. ( i'll tell you all about the futile friendzone failure next time, laydeez).

i went rollerskating recently. twerking while skating is not just a myth. it exists.

my dad made our dog a bed out of a cardboard produce box and foam. true life: my dad is frugal and inventive. he also "won" 48 bottles of poise feminine wash, but that's a story for another day.

10 qualities that awesome, perfect, flawless Godly women won't settle for anything less than in a REAL man,

1. He can lift me without grunting
This goes without saying, really. A real man's strength is measured in his ability to lift heavy objects. And since I'm perfect and skinny, if he can't lift me without a grunt, he must be weak--physically, emotionally, spiritually.

2. Must put God first in our relationship.
But, I still want him to call me  to talk about nothing every night before bed, answer my texts within 2 minutes, and sit by me while i pinterest. God comes first, but that's when i'm not around, right? just enough for me to say that's what makes him such a great leader.

3. Must be sensitive.
But i don't want to see him cry. Or express his feelings.

4. Must be hot.
God may look at the inward appearance, but I have to look at this face for the rest of my life.

5. Must be photogenic.
I need our pondid (candid-posed) photos to refect our perfect life together.

6. Must love kids.
And by love, i mean he must like them. and by like i mean he must be good with them. and by be good, i mean he has to have held a baby once and maybe talked to a little kid a couple times. then you know he's gonna be a wonderful father.

7. Must be a guy's guy.
I want him to love football, but i don't want him to watch it. I want him to have a lot of chummy college friends, but spend only a little time with them. Actually, i don't want him to hang out with his friends all that much. all they do is talk about sports. I want him to like the idea of guy stuff...but watch love actually with me.

8. Must be manly.
He needs to know how to fix everything, build machines out of natural elements and start fire with stones.

9. Must be spiritually disciplined.
I need him to hold his own with cliched christian prayer topics and current devotionals so our spiritual life is never questioned by our other christian friends.

10. Must love others.
But mostly just friends and family. I'd rather get some new throw pillows than help that homeless guy. god's wants to give us the desires of our heart, and i want those pillows. mostly, i guess i just want him to love me. and the pillows.

Rob Dyrdek

most people tell me that they could never have stories like mine. that my life is so fantastical filled with crazy, zany people and adventures. i'd like to remind them that we live in the same world...and that my stories mostly surround 4 staple elements: binge eating, boys, jobs(or joblessness) or embarrassment. the thing is, i tell the stories because i'm not embarrassed...and you shouldn't be either.

i love to tell these weird stories, but the truth is the best thing i ever did for myself was tell the story of who i am. not every knows it, nor will everyone...some people will just get bits and pieces. others, will get the version where my eyes well up and voice cracks a bit. as a life long  clown, telling a story that was anything but embarrassing was the most embarrassing thing i could do. no jokes or weird people to elaborate. just my little life and the lessons i've learned.

i think sometimes we get so wrapped up in creating an unbelievable life story, that we miss the things that make it just so. this has always been my problem. relentlessly wondering if things could be better, if something could make me happier, if i could make my life more exciting by doing it differently. trying desperately to create this cool story that people will think is unique or interesting. relentless wondering is ok for men who live alone in the woods, but not for anyone else.

over and over in my life the lesson has been the same. it is not so much what i am doing, but who i am when i am doing it. when i am content to be in the moment,content in who i am: that is when the little life moments come. that's when i can see the funny and strange and ridiculousness that is ever-present--if you don't believe me, turn to MTV2...ridiculousness is always on!