Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Self realization can be a (bad name for a lady dog).



I'm hosting book club tonight.

I would be excited, but I'm too busy drooling on my keyboard. I've been averaging 4 hours of sleep per night, and I can barely see straight.

Why, you ask?

Because I'm an idiot.

And because I work 40 hours every week.

But mostly because I started watching the show Hoarders. And I recognized myself.

"Kurt, I have bad news."

He glanced up from his textbook, and his gaze was arrested by my horrified expression. "Babe, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

I shook my head.

"What is it??"

I swallowed. "I'm a hoarder."

I don't have 41 dead cats living in my garage, and I don't think throwing away my dog's fur will speed up her death (mostly because, you know, I don't have a dog).

But I am a hoarder.

I'm not hoarding things right now (except craft supplies). But I am a hoarder the same way a man who hasn't had a drink in 5 years is still an alcoholic.


I look at their homes, and I see how it started. Maybe they never really unpacked, and the mess just grew. Maybe they started shopping, and simply had no place to put everything. But they kept on shopping. Because they know what it's like to be poor, and they know, they know that if they don't buy it now, they might not have the money to buy it later. And what if they need it one day?

Most of them have been extremely poor. I have been extremely poor.

It was like looking into my own head. It was like looking into my possible future. And it scared the shit out of me.


You might think I'm being dramatic, and you're probably right. I am sleep deprived, after all.

But that doesn't mean I'm wrong.

According to the show, hoarding is a mental disorder that effects approximately 3 million people. 3 million!


I have no plans to hoard rotting food, or keep my used toilet paper (and I'm only on episode 4!!). But I could. If I'm not careful, I could.

Not now, of course. Now I'm young, and (relatively) sane. I can throw stuff out with ease. I don't get attached to worthless things.

So maybe I'm a "Pre-Hoarder"?

Hang on, let me look it up...Ok. According to Wikipedia, I'm hovering somewhere between a a level 1 and a level 2 hoarder. For now.

My problem is a motivational one. I let things build up again and again until the task of cleaning and organizing is so huge, and it would take so long, and I'd rather just ignore it and do something, anything else.

I might never become a level 5 hoarder. But the pattern is set, and the tendency is there. If I'm not careful, I might end up with a VW bus full of junk in my backyard. Which I'll live in, because I won't be able to fit into my house once the tunnels I've dug under my piles of junk have collapsed.


(This happens sometimes)

We all have our challenges, right? Mine just happen to be slapping me in the face right now.

And so for the past few days, I've been cleaning. And organizing. And decorating. And buying organizational stuff (and possibly more decorations).

Since I'm at work all day, my crazy organization parties can't start until I get home. Then they go all night. If only I could take a mental health day, and just focus on this. That would be so appropriate, don't you think?

Again, let me explain one thing. This fear and determination is not because I am hoarding right now. It's because I know that if I'm not careful, I will be hoarding one day.

And I just can't let that happen.

So once The Great Clean of 2010 is over, I have a plan.

"Stay on top of this."

Ok, so it's not much of a plan.

But it's a start.

.


Monday, November 29, 2010

If you loved me, you'd change my diaper.



"How was nursery today?"

"Ugh. I can still smell them."

"What?"

"That room always smells like pee by the end of church. It's because most of the kids are in diapers, you know?"

"If I had a diaper, I'd pee in it."

I stared at him.

"Just a heads up."

"You're planning on wearing a diaper?"

"You know, someday. And I'll probably smell like pee all the time. Because, why not?"

"Ummm, I hope you don't expect me to change your diaper. Because that is never going to happen."

"What? But you're my wife. It's your job!"

"It is not my job to wipe your butt, Kurt, and it never will be. We will be paying someone else to do that."

"My love tank is empty right now."

...and I didn't even care.

.


Saturday, November 27, 2010

Where exactly is the line between "enthusiastic decorator" and "obsessed hoarder?"



Guess what I've been doing for the past ten hours?


....I might have a problem.

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Thursday, November 25, 2010

My husband left me for that whore textbook. Again.




Happy Thanksgiving!

I wanted to share this post with you guys, as a break from all of the nice, thoughtful, I'm-thankful-for posts that are suffocating the internet with gratitude and happiness. Don't get me wrong, I like those posts. But sometimes its nice to take a break, and contemplate murder.

It's kind of choppy, and the transitions suck, mostly because I copied it strait out of my journal and haven't had a minute to edit it. Between visiting relatives, and an exciting razor-blade-in-tire incident, things have been a little hectic around here.

It all started with a Facebook update...


I know what you're thinking. She's just a distraction. It's not like he is going to keep her forever. He married me, and shouldn't that count for something?

It's just....I know they are sleeping together. I've seen it. I've come home from a night out with the wives, only to find Kurt drooling on his textbook, his head resting between her ample pages, the smell of sparkling cider lingering in the air.

No one should have to walk in on that.

And now I don't know what to do.


--------


One of my friends recommended getting him alone for a few days. She pointed out that the holidays are coming up, and that might be the perfect time to win him back.

Thanksgiving with his family, Christmas with mine.

Plus, I have my Turkey lingerie, and that Mrs. Clause garter belt on my side. There's no way he could resist that, right?


--------


"Good news babe! I scheduled my boards for January 22. I'll have to bring my textbooks with us, and study a lot during the holidays. Especially Christmas. But I knew you'd understand."

UNDERSTAND???

Oh, I understand all right.

That malicious, scheming little tramp...

Well, I have a little holiday surprise in store for her.


"Are you thankful NOW???"



"How about some holiday cheer, textbook???"


...If only I could get away with it.

But even if I could hide the evidence, the motive is a little too obvious. There's no way they wouldn't catch me.

Maybe I should talk to him about it?


--------


"Hey dude, I miss you."

"Yeah, I know."

"...and the other night, when you came home late? I saw that ink smudge on your collar."

"That? That was nothing. A campus newspaper must have brushed up against me on the bus."

"Look, it's ok. I get it. You're young, and you spend long hours at the lab. There are a lot of attractive books around, and you see them day after day. But, I just have to know that I can trust you."

He got kind of defensive, and walked out of the room.

I felt defeated. What now? Should I pretend like my feelings didn't matter, and just wait it out, hoping that he'll come back to me? Or should I just give up, and go stay with my sister?

If only there was a third option...

...Wait a minute. Maybe there is.

You know, the computer has been looking kind of tempting lately. Maybe I should give Kurt a taste of his own medicine...


--------


A few hours later, Kurt found me in front of the monitor.

"Excuse me, can I have a minute alone with my wife?"

I smiled slightly at his possessive tone.

"Sure" I answered, winking at the keyboard.

A few minutes before, I had felt a little uncomfortable with my plan. It's been so long since I've really looked at anybody besides Kurt, and I wasn't sure if the game had changed.

I approached the monitor, and sat down in the office chair as seductively as possible. I had been rehearsing a few lines in my head, and I wanted to see if they would work.

"My name's Vista. Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"Need me to unzip your files?"

"You got me stuck on Caps Lock, if you know what I mean."

He was totally impressed. But not really interested. Turns out he and the keyboard are in a homo-technical relationship.

But they were totally supportive, and wanted to help out. So when Kurt walked up, and saw the screen winking at me, I think it got to him.

"Yeah. My wife and I need to have a little talk."

As Kurt dragged me away, I heard the keyboard whisper "you go girlfriend!"

Kurt pulled me into the other room, and sat me down. He rubbed his neck uncomfortably, and stared at the floor.

I relished his discomfort.

After giving himself a silent pep talk, he took a big breath, and looked me straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry I'm still in school."

...Wow. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. It's like he saw through all the other problems, and went straight to the heart of the matter.

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything. But if you could hurry up and fail out, I'd really appreciate it."

"Ok. I can do that" He said, looking deep into my eyes. "For us."


--------


So now we will see. I want to trust him. I want to believe that this can work.

But what if it doesn't? What if he forgets himself in the heat of the moment, and fills in that scantron? What if he passes??

I don't know if I can handle 3 more years of this. If it's not this textbook, it will be another one. And I've seen the way he looks at his drilling equipment.

I don't think I can compete with that.

...What am I supposed to do?

.


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Current stress level: half way between an ulcer and a heart attack.



Holy hell you guys. I am just glad this day is over.

Bring on the holiday.

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Monday, November 22, 2010

I Could Have Died. Or Worse- Someone Could Have Seen Me!



Here is one of this week's prompts, from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop:

"Forget Thanksgiving, write about that time you fell down."

I'm on it.

A little while ago, I decided to wear heels to work (I wanted to impress all of the ladies in the lunch room with my sexy strut).

This was a few weeks after my leg collapsed for no reason. But I was feeling pretty confident, since I hadn't experienced any reoccurring paralysis.

Also, I was wearing a new shirt.


I owned that office.

At the end of the day, I stood up and stretched. Time to go home. I gathered together my belongings (which always end up strewn across my desk, no matter how hard I try to contain them), and headed out the door.

I thought about taking the elevator, but decided against it. Why not use the stairs? I could get in my exercise for the day, and practice my seductive walk. BONUS.

....It was a bad choice.

I took one dainty little step, and my leg collapsed.


I rolled down an entire flight of linoleum stairs.

I could have died.

Or worse- Someone could have seen me!

My body came to rest against the dirty stairwell wall. I lay there for a second, wondering how the hell I had survived.

Then gingerly, I sat up and began to assess the damage. Nothing hurt very much, and there were no open wounds. I hadn't hit my head, and nothing seemed broken.

...Except my pride.

My new shirt was dirty, and sticking slightly to the gray patch of who-knows-what that was smeared along the wall.


Perfect. Just perfect.

I stared at my foot for a second, waiting for an explanation.

It wasn't asleep. There was no numbness, and that pins and needles feeling was jarringly absent.

Shaken, I stood up, and looked around. The downside to not having an audience is that no one is there to pick you up.

After a minute, I braced myself, and put my foot on the ground.

...Nothing.

I added more weight, daring it to collapse. But it felt just as strong as ever.

Of course it was.

Sighing, I began to gather the contents of my purse.

I haven't worn heels since.

--------


I would like to thank The Empress, for introducing me to Mama Kat. Without her, this story would never have been told.

(at least, not today)

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Friday, November 19, 2010

What NOT to do at a slumber party.



When I was 5, I had a friend named Maggie. And Maggie had an older brother, who I was going to marry one day.

(this is me, circa 1989)

Maggie's brother was named Brian, and he had blond hair. That's pretty much all I remember about him. Well, I also remember the way my heart would start pounding when I heard his name. And that he was really tall (for a 7 year old).

But that's it.

One day I went over to Maggie's house for a sleepover birthday party. I dressed up in my cutest outfit (which probably wasn't very cute, since this was 1990) and I let my mom brush my hair for the occasion.

I just knew that if I looked my best, there was no way Brian could resist me.

--------------


I walked through Maggie's front door, and stared. This was her house?

I didn't know the word Mansion, but I did know that this house was much bigger than any I had ever been inside.

While this impressed me, and kind of made me nervous, it didn't make me want Brian any more than I already did (I have learned a lot since then).

"Helena! Welcome. Maggie and the other girls are in the gym."

Maggie's mom gestured to a glass wall behind her. And behind that glass? Was a giant room full of gymnastic equipment. In their house.


Now, I was little, so the room probably wasn't quite as big as I remember it. But still- who has gymnastic equipment in their house??

I looked around shyly, but I didn't see Brian anywhere. This was kind of a relief, because my plans were limited to "He will see me, I will look cute, and then we will be in love," and I was starting to worry that it wouldn't be that easy.

I dropped my sleeping bag and backpack by the others, and ran to the balance beam. I had taken gymnastics the summer before, and I was anxious to show off my cartwheel-on-the-beam skills.

Maybe that would impress him?


A few hours later (Or maybe it was minutes? Time passes slower when you are a kid), we gathered around the table to sing happy birthday to Maggie. I knew that her brother would be there for this part, because that's how things worked.

Sure enough, he came walking in with his dad and another boy from school. I watched him smile at his mom, and say something funny to his friend.

Someone handed me my plate, and I started eating the cake without really tasting it. I couldn't stop staring.

(This should tell you just how devoted I was. Sugar was such a rare treat, it would normally have consumed my entire attention)


This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Any second now he was going to look over and see me, and then he would be my boyfriend.

What will we tell Maggie? I wondered. I hope she won't get mad.

I smiled extra hard at her, because we were about to become family, and I wanted her to know that I was happy about that.

We will probably have 90 kids, I thought. And all of them will be girls. I wonder how old you have to be to get married?


I was so busy planning our reception, it took me a minute to realize that Brian was walking out the door.

"Have fun spending the night at Jamie's house!" His mom called after him.

WHAT??

He was leaving???

 

But, we hadn't even fallen in love yet!

We never even made eye contact (despite my constant staring).  

It wasn't fair!!!

I was crushed. I wanted to cry, but at the same time I didn't want the other girls to think I was a baby. And the last thing I wanted was to have to explain why I was sad.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I probably had fun, but I don't remember any of that. I just remember laying down in my sleeping bag that night, on their thick white carpet, and thinking that life was awful.


--------------


A few hours later, I felt something warm on my lower back. That was nice. I drifted back off...

...and then I noticed that that warm spot was getting cold, and kind of sticky.

Wait a second...

Oh no, was that pee??! 

I sat up in a hurry, and felt around beneath me. Sure enough, I had wet the floor.


I didn't know what to do! Should I wake up Maggie, or go get her mother?? I just wanted to go home.

Heartbroken, I started crying. Not only had my future boyfriend forgotten to fall in love with me, but now I was going to be made fun of at school for the rest of infinity. Maybe infinity times infinity.

My little chest heaved with sobs as I climbed out of my sleeping bag.

I looked around for my backpack, which had tomorrow's clothes inside. My face was still dripping with tears as I took off my pajamas, and pulled up my jeans. At least I was dry.

I looked around the room, trying to decide what to do. I knew I should probably wake up Maggie's mother, but I was too embarrassed. If only I could pretend like nothing happened.

...Wait a minute. Why not? No one knew that I wet the floor, and if I could remove the evidence...

--------------


The next morning, when Maggie's mom walked in to wake us up, she found all the girls still inside their sleeping bags.

All except one.

I was already dressed, with my sleeping bag all rolled up. I had fallen asleep leaning against it.

"Wow, you're all ready. Good for you."

She didn't even notice the yellow spot on her expensive white carpet.


I had pulled it off! I couldn't believe it.

This was the best party ever.


--------------


As soon as I got home, I ran to my sister Amber.

"You'll never guess what happened! They have a trampoline and a balance beam and all kinds of gymnastic stuff RIGHT IN THEIR HOUSE, even some uneven bars and I did a cartwheel and Brian was going to fall in love with me, but he left with a friend, and I'm not even his girlfriend but I still love him and OH MY GOSH I wet the bed, except it was the floor, and I hid it and no one knows and there's a yellow spot but i didn't get caught and it was the BEST PARTY EVER!"

Her reaction was kind of anticlimactic.


I never did end up marrying Brian, mostly because we moved away a few months later, and he hadn't seen my cartwheel yet. I think things would have ended differently if he had.

I still think about that house sometimes.

Who has gymnastic equipment in their living room?

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Thursday, November 18, 2010

My showers are pretty exciting.



I have this entire medley memorized:



Every.Word.

I also have this song memorized:



And this one:



I'm not sure which one I'm more proud of.

....Or which one I sing more often in the shower.

Kurt sure is one lucky guy.

Other close contenders for my #1 shower song?

My showers are pretty exciting.


--------


What are your favorite songs to rock out to while shampooing your hair?

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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Party like crazy! (It's good for your blog)



There are so many ways to find readers for your blog. Twitter, networks, comments, guest posting. These things work.

But my favorite? Link Parties.

(No, I'm not talking about Blog Parties Like This One)

Sometimes when I am facing writers block, I will turn to Thursday Thunks, or Top Two Tuesday for ideas.

Parties like these don't just give you a topic to write on. They also give you a chance to expose your blog to a whole new audience.

And who doesn't like exposing themselves?


When I link up to this kind of party (a blog one, not a flasher one), I try to visit each and every person there, and leave a meaningful comment.

(Emphasis on the meaningful part)

At the end of that comment, I'll add "I found you through ___________."

The return visits are awesome, and I always see a huge traffic spike when I do this.

A few weeks ago I tried a Wordless Wednesday post. And I got 200 extra visitors that day who clicked through to my blog (I track my traffic sources through Google Analytics).

Yeah.

Parties are where it's at, y'all.

There are also some blog carnivals that don't require you to write on a specific topic. Some ask for a funny post. Or maybe for your best post of the week.

Others have a theme, but it's general enough that you can just add what you already wrote that day.

Here, let me show you what I mean. Take my sister's Small Treasures Tuesday party (which is open all week).



Some people are inspired to write a post about something they treasure.

Others (like me) will link up whatever they wrote that day, and in the linky they will write titles like "naked old ladies are a treasure" "being married to me is a treasure" and "reaching that level of awkwardness is a treasure."

Sweet, huh?

Again, you will receive more visits if you visit the other participants, and leave them thoughtful comments.

It's all about the social interaction.

(Yes, this is a plug for my sister's party. Go link your posts up)

So that's my secret.

--------


What are your favorite ways to draw in new readers?

And are there any other parties that you guys like?

I'm always looking for new parties.


(I should probably specify, I'm not looking for Craft parties. Not that yours isn't awesome. But since this is not a craft blog (it's in the header), maybe only link up ones that would apply?)

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Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Making your little sisters doubt their parents love? Priceless.



People have been asking me this question a lot lately.

(and by "people" I mean Tara and Lori)

How do you pronounce Helena?

So I thought to myself, "Heck, why not write a post about it?"

(yeah, I'm kind of running short on ideas this week.)

(...and I'm copying some of this straight from my FAQ page. Because I'm lazy like that.)


Here is the official answer:

Hell-ay-nuh.

There is actually an accent over the second "e" to make it say "A".

No, I'm not making that up! It's on my birth certificate. My mom was really feeling her french heritage that year.

Here, I'll put it in: Heléna. That's my real name.

Which? Awesome way to make your kids hate each other. My sisters were jealous of my accent, and I probably didn't help when I told them that it was because "mom and dad just love me more.'

Yup. I was such a nice kid. Right Amber? Chantel?

Guys?

You can't still be mad.

....Crap.


--------

I'm linking this to my sister's party, Small Treasures Tuesday. Because having me for an older sister is a treasure.




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Monday, November 15, 2010

This is why we will always be poor.



The other day, I was staring at the foam in confusion.

"Weren't we going to get a new couch?"

He looked up from his textbook in surprise.

"Well, we haven't saved up enough in our apartment fund."

"What? But I haven't bought anything apartment-related in forever!"

He half smiled. "Well, whenever you go over your spending money, the extra money has to come from somewhere."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. Where did you think it was coming from?"

"I don't know. I guess I just thought there was a 'Helena's overspending again' fund."

He just smiled, and went back to his homework.

And I went back to my online shopping.

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Sunday, November 14, 2010

THE MONTH IS HALF WAY OVER???



Welcome to this week's edition of


This week on Reasons To Lose

I dominated the Shred.

This week on the Internet

Um...not much.

This week's Things I Wish I Could Plagiarize

Forget Bed Bugs - Ever Heard of Bed Worms??

Well. This certainly does get the point across.

Breaking me

Taming Temper Tantrums through Arson.

There are basically two kinds of human beings.


Did you write an awesome post this week? Add the URL to your comment, and I'll come check it out!

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Saturday, November 13, 2010

No really, I'm generally pleasant in person.



In case you were worried, I feel so much better today.

I feel like by Monday, I will be ready to handle 40 more hours of squeaky chairs and obnoxious old men with my usual grace and aplomb.

No really, I'm generally pleasant in person.

(please ignore my sisters snorts of disbelief)

In case you were worried that I secretly hate Veterans, let me assure you that that simply is not the case. I love crotchity old men (and women), and usually I am understanding, and secretly amused by their rudeness.

But sometimes, a combination of I'm-having-a-shitty-day and personal insults on their part make me want to smack them so hard, their dentures fly out.

But even then, you would never know it by my voice. My eyes probably give me away, but as we are only connected by a phone line, my death glare doesn't have much effect.

And in case you need further proof, I'll have you know that RED is my new favorite movie. I want to be that badass when I grow up.

Man, my language has gone downhill. Sorry to all my mormon friends (I'll try to do better).

On the bright side, Kurt was very understanding, and didn't even pick a single fight when I got home. Which is so very different than what I am used to (or maybe I'm the one who picks the fights? I can never keep these things straight).

If he had been a jerk, last night could have ended so differently. Who knows what would have happened.


Driving home, I felt like a pent up ball of rage just waiting to burst and consume the awful drivers around me. And, in case you are new here, even on my calmest days I tend to have a slight problem with road rage (I would like to blame genetics for this one).

But you will be EVEN PROUDER to know that I didn't explode. Not even once. I didn't cuss at my windshield, drive aggressively, or even casually flip someone off.

My secret? I called my Mother In Law while I was driving (it's ok, traffic was moving so slow, I would have had to try to get into an accident), and we had an awesome conversation. We laughed and joked and made plans for Thanksgiving.

(my sister's are probably staring slack-jawed at their monitors right now)

Relations with my in-laws have been a little strained over the past year, mostly because I am an awful person (although those who know the whole story might argue that it's as much their fault as mine).

...And that's really as much detail as I can go into without them killing me. So feel free to speculate, but don't expect me to confirm what actually went down.

However, I think things are looking up on that front.

I think maybe I'm growing up?

My secret for this miracle is actually pretty simple. I decided to accept that we are connected for life (and hopefully beyond), and I have two choices: I can either nurse grudges and add to the strain, or I can forgive, forget, and try to establish a relationship with them.

The latter option seems like it would lead to the most happiness, both for me, for them, and especially for Kurt.

I know not everyone has in-law problems as small as mine, and some things are pretty much impossible to get past. I am not telling you guys this to preach to you, or to suggest that your situation will be as easy, or even possible, to fix (not that this is exactly easy, but it is possible).

I am just telling you my experiences (which are really the only things I am qualified to talk about).

I know it won't be as simple as it sounds (or maybe it will?), but I'm hoping that I can become a good daughter-in-law to Kurt's parents. Maybe even friends with them?

But hey, at the very least I know that can turn to his mom when I am ready to throttle the next person who looks at me funny, and she will diffuse the situation with her curious nature and Finnish accent.

Anyway, I just thought I would check in, and let you know that things are looking up from yesterday. I'm not in jail, and there are no warrants out for my arrest. Also, Kurt barely has any super-glue to wash off.

(I take my brownies very seriously)


**Hey guys, Erin needs some help with her In-Laws. You can read her story below, in the comments section. Please join the conversation, and add your insights and advice!**


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Friday, November 12, 2010

I could snap at any moment.



  • Old Geezer: "The flag needs to be lit at night!"
  • Me: "The flag code actually says that there needs to be 'sufficient lighting', however it does not specify what that means."
  • Old Geezer: "Yes it does, stupid." No really, he just called me stupid. "I read it before you were born."
  • Me: "Well, either they changed it, or you are senile (I'm thinking the latter)."
Ok. so I didn't actually say the senile part. But I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.
    ....I'm having a rough day.

    --------

    You know what? I'm going to link this up to Flip Off Fridays with Momma Kiss. Because I would love nothing more right now than to shove my middle finger up that old man's nose.



    Also, F Bomb Friday, with MiMi. It's a good fit.




    I need a vacation. Bad.



    If my boss doesn't stop rocking his squeaky desk chair, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

    .


    Thursday, November 11, 2010

    Live blogging from my armpit.



    Kurt was lying next to me on the bed. I was busy typing super-important stuff on the laptop (What? Twitter is important. Kind of).

    Kurt hadn't showered in a few days, and I wasn't letting him under the covers until he got that under control.

    I sat through a few minutes of "why is your love so conditional?" and "I would love you even if you never showered!" (a safe claim on his part. I am very attached to my showers.)

    In defiance, he curled up next to me, and slowly worked his way into a clingy cuddle.

    Then he fell asleep.

    So I turned on Pandora.

    He put a pillow over his face.

    ...which I leaned on.

    He decided suffocating wasn't as comfortable as putting his face in my armpit. You know, to block out the light.

    I thought that was punishment enough.

    20 minutes (and 2 facebook updates) later, he snored so loud, he startled himself awake.

    Sleepily, he turned his face to the light, and gasped in pain.

    "Why is it so bright out here???"

    "It's darker in my armpit" I offered.

    "Yeah," he muttered sleepily. "I think your armpit wins this battle."

    Then he stuck his face back in. And fell asleep again.

    And that's where we are right now. He is right there, snoring away in my armpit.

    Maybe I should break out the cheese whiz...

    .


    Wednesday, November 10, 2010

    My wild and crazy teenage years



    When I was in highschool, I didn't really have a curfew. Mostly, my parents just trusted me not to do anything too stupid.

    ...And they knew that if I did, I would end up telling them anyway. My mom and I were pretty tight.

    So yup, no curfew. But I told my friends I had one. It was my excuse to get out of things, because this: 
    Just isn't as socially acceptable as this:

    I was pretty shy, but I managed to find an awesome group of outgoing friend to hang out with.

    And when that awesome group of friends had crazy plans? I would run it by my mom before I went.

    "Hey mom? My friends are going skinny dipping this weekend at the cabin. Just girls, and Jessica's mom will be there. It's kind of her idea. What do you think?"

    "Go for it."



    That weekend 6 of us stood staring at Lake Michigan in the moonlight.

    "Ok girls, start stripping."

    Jessica's mom was really young when she had her, and she was more like an older sister.

    "But, what about that bar?"


    The beach was right next to a bar and grill, and we were worried that someone would come outside and see us.

    "It's ok. I'll watch your clothes."

    So we shrugged our shoulders, and shucked off our clothing. I remember running to the water, screaming "Don't look at me!" at the top of my lungs.

    Skinny dipping was awesome. And cold. Mostly cold. But when you are 15, you're willing to overlook the small things (like hypothermia) for the sake of the adventure.


    A few minutes later Kelly asked "Hey wait, where did Jess's mom go?"

    We all turned towards the beach. The empty beach.

    "Oh shit!"

    We struggled to the shore, cursing under our breath. When we got there, we found a single towel, and a note.


    And that is how I ended up wrapped in a towel with 6 other girls, butt naked, sneaking past a bar in the middle of the night.


    It was terrifying.

    We couldn't stop giggling.

    And Jessica's mom? She was laughing so hard, she couldn't drive home.


    -------


    Do you guys have any stories like this?

    .


    Tuesday, November 9, 2010

    My very first (very rambly) Vlog.



    I....Vlogged. Last night. For the first time.

    It's kind of awful.

    And I sound like a 12 year old.

    AND I couldn't edit it, due to some incredibly unfortunate internet connection issues.

    But I'm uploading it anyway. Because maybe you guys are curious about what my face looks like in action. Or maybe you feel like watching a crazy-rambly video today.

    I wouldn't want to keep you from your dream.



    What do you think?

    Aside from it being kind of pointless. Is this something you want to me to do more often (or ever)? Or are you cringing, and wishing you could erase that image from your minds?

    I'm desperately awaiting your comments.

    -------

    I hear it's freezing half way through. Lame. The vaguely funny parts are all in the second half. If you are just dying to see the rest of it, here is the youtube link.

    -------

    Also, did you see the quiz on my sidebar? -------->
    You know you want to answer it.

    -------

    And finally, I'm linking this to my sister's Blog Carnival, Small Treasures Tuesday (which is open all week). Because Vlogging Awkwardly is a Treasure


    .


    Monday, November 8, 2010

    Who knew spray cheese could be so sexy?




    Me: "I can't decide what I like more about this bottle. That it's a good source of calcium, or that it doesn't have to be refrigerated. Ever."

    Kurt: "I love that you paid $4 for a can of cheese."

    Me: "$3. It was on sale. Don't diss my cheese-in-a-can."

    Kurt: "You know what would be sexy? Let's spray this cheese all over your body, and then..."

    Me: "...that is disturbing."

    Kurt: "Is that a yes?"

    Me: "I'd say its more of a "leave my spray cheese alone you creep" than anything else."

    And that is what marriage looks like after a year and four months.

    The magic is still there, it's just a lot less...magical.

    .


    Friday, November 5, 2010

    Let's be honest here.





    Welcome to our Friday Party!
    (this is our very first week!)
    (and probably our last)

    Life in the Pitts
    (sorry this button is so small- I'm working on a new one!)

    Be sure and read the rules guidelines very carefully before linking up!
    • Link to your main blog page. (G Rated links only!).
    • In the "name" field,  please put your blog title, followed by "I always follow back!!!!" 
    • You must write an entire blog post dedicated to Follow Me Now (FMN), and include the above button at both the beginning, and the end of the post. 
    • Then put the button on your sidebar. 
    • And your other sidebar. 
    • Be sure to follow all your hosts! They are located in the first 16 slots. Don't worry, we follow back! 
    • Now visit all of the other blogs, and follow each of them. Actually reading their blogs is not necessary, as you will probably never return. 
    • Leave a comment on each blog. It does not have to be relevant to the post.   
      • "Hi, I'm your new follower from FMN!! Now follow me back. LOL." is perfect. It's short, impersonal, and particularly charming when the post was about the death of a loved one. 
      • Be sure to add a signature to your comment, with a link to your blog, your twitter handle, and your facebook page. 
      • Too busy to participate? That's ok! Just link up your blog, and walk away. Free advertising! 
      • If anybody follows your blog (and with these awesome comments, you'll know if they do!) You MUST follow them back. 
        • Even if you aren't interested. 
        • This is not negotiable. 
        • It's only polite. 
        • And our final rule guideline: HAVE FUN!
          (remember, these are just guidelines, so you can ignore them if you want to :)
          (but I might delete your link and/or leave you some nasty comments)


          I'm leaving this party open all weekend, so be sure to tell your friends!!!




          .


          Thursday, November 4, 2010

          Dolls are nice. Until they try to kill you.



          My grandma has a lot of dolls.

          One time, I was spending the night at her house, and I got up to use the bathroom. I must have been around 5 years old. I had to creep through the doll room to get to there, and for some reason I was crawling.

          Maybe to add to the adventure?

          I was about half way through that room when I looked up, and realized that hundreds of eyes were staring at me.


          HOLY FREAKING CRAP.

          I got up, and ran as fast as I could! I was too scared to look over my shoulder, but I could feel them gaining on me.


          I dashed into the bathroom, and shut the door. Panting, I triple-checked the lock, and my little body sagged with relief.

          That was close. Too close.

          I spent the next few minutes with my ear to the door, trying to hear what the dolls were planning. But they must have been talking really quietly, because I couldn't hear a thing.


          Finally, my need to pee overruled my sense of self preservation, and I grabbed a toothbrush from the counter. I figured it would be a good weapon if they broke down the door. Then I climbed up on the toilet to do my business.

          When I was done, I put my ear back against the door, and listened as hard as I could.

          ...Nothing. They must already be in position, ready to ambush me as soon as I opened the door.

          I didn't want to die that way.

          I'm not sure how many hours I spent huddled on the bathroom floor before I fell asleep.


          In the morning, I crept back out to look at the dolls. It was just as I suspected. They had snuck back into their normal positions before my grandma could catch them at it.

          They may have fooled her, but I knew the truth.


          And they knew it, too.


          .


          Wednesday, November 3, 2010

          The Saggy Quadraboob, part 2



          I've been thinking a lot about the Quadraboob. Why was someone searching this? What would it look like? How did it get saggy?

          And why did it bring them here??

          I thought about doing my own google search... but wisely decided against it. I am, after all, at my work computer.

          After a few disturbing false starts, this is what I have come up with.


          Turns out Quadraboobs are incredibly useful. You can feed your quadruplets all at once. Or you could feed your kid, and all the other kids at playgroup. You'd be the most popular mom in the neighborhood!

          Also, can you think of a better deterrent for those nosy people who want to look inside your nursing cover? (I've heard people really do that).

          I can tell you one thing- that stick figure up there has been cured of her nosiness. There is no way to unlearn that lesson.

          Now, if only I could figure out what they meant by facial checkerboard wrinkles....

          ----------

          Ok, so it turns out that a quadraboob is actually a muffin top. Which, while it does make sense, is not nearly as useful as my idea. I think mine wins.

          .


          Tuesday, November 2, 2010

          Quadraboob Saggy??



          How did you guys find Life in the Pitts?

          7% of the people who visit me find their way here through a search engine. Mostly Google. And mostly because they type in "life in the pitts" or some variation of that.

          But some people end up here by accident. And I can only imagine how confused they are.

          Here are some of the more interesting searches that have lead people to Life in the Pitts:

          Things that make sense

          blogger who grew up on a blueberry farm in mi (I can only assume she was looking for me)

          granny panties wedgie

          how to figure out bra size

          how can i make my mark in the world

          i have a midterm tomorrow, what should i do? (hint: not this)

          Things that don't really surprise me

          if your boobs are falling out of your bra

          pee standing

          you pantsed me

          skittles help headaches (this is news to me. But I'm trying it).

          Things I am not qualified to help you with

          i have the hiccups

          Guy pantys wedgie

          1800s romanian jewelry

          facial checkerboard wrinkles

          i dont wear panties to church

          quadraboob saggy

          ...I hope they weren't too disappointed.

          So now I am curious. How did you find me?

          .


          Monday, November 1, 2010

          Next time, I'm wearing pants.



          I live next to a movie theater.

          I could walk...but you guys know me better than that. I always hitch a ride.

          A few weeks ago, a bunch of The Wives went to a late night movie. Since it was so late, I assumed everybody would dress comfortably, and I wore my pajamas.


          ....Yeah. Either their PJ's are a whole lot trendier than mine, or I somehow missed the "dress up as cute as possible" memo.

          There's something you should know about me. If you have some kind of crazy scheme, and you need a partner in crime? I'm the one to come to.

          Just ask The Pirate.

          I can't say no to a crazy idea.

          So when everybody piled into 2 cars for the ride back, and we started racing, and Amber shouted "Moon them Helena!" you know what I did.

          I'm not proud of it.

          No, I didn't pull my pants down. But I did stick my butt out the window and dance around a little.

          "Oh my gosh!" "Niiiice" "Is that Helena?" I heard from the other car.

          "Quick! Roll up the window! Roll up the window!" I cried, diving onto the floor. "I don't want them to know it was me!"

          The other girls in my car were dying of laughter.

          "Hurry!!!"

          "But Helena, you're the only one wearing pajama pants!"


          ...Oh yeah. Huh.

          "Tami! Lets switch pants!"

          She didn't go for it.

          And I? Now have a reputation that I am kind of proud ashamed of, and I think I gave the new girls the wrong impression of me.

          Or, rather, the right impression, which I was hoping to reveal gradually, and only after they are familiar with my good points.

          It's like college all over again.

          I just hope they respect me in the morning.

          (If you are curious about my college promiscuity, you can read this post. And for an extremely awkward story about my Dad walking in on me and a guy in bed, you can go here.)

          .


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