To My Dearest Sister on her Birthday

Today is Elle's 30th birthday.

I was like, Hey. I should get her a gift right? So I set off to the city where they have a wide selection of gifts. My car gets pretty bad gas mileage so I just decided to hitchhike. I'm not really afraid of strangers. Dunno why. Just never have been.

When I got to the city, I discovered I had left my wallet at home. 

                                             

Great. WTF was I going to do now?

Dude, before you get all judgy, you should know that I don't really have a lot of pockets. There's not really a convenient place to stash my wallet.

But then, all of a sudden I had an IDEA!

I totally knew how to make money. All I needed was a few kids. I looked around. Across the street was a woman and two kids. Bingo. I ran across the road and called out to the lady.

Her kids looked pretty excited. They started screaming and running in circles, and one of them was so excited he had tears in his eyes.

It was a little humid at this point so my hair looks a little different that usual.

Only I guess the mom didn't like redheads because she hit me with her purse and started screaming. and swearing and grabbing her kids out of my arms.

And I was like, Really?

Only she got even more mad and pulled out a nail file, which she used to stab me in the elbow, all the while screaming Police, so I ran. What? I panicked. I'm not used to getting jumped like that. Freaking wack-job. 

I escaped down the storm drain, where I waited for a while just to make sure I wasn't being followed. It was pretty hard to see down there, and the ground was covered in some kind of wet nasty crap that was seeping into my shoes. I needed to get out before some kind of contaminant ate my face off.

Sweet thing about storm drains: easy to get into, not so simple to escape from. I spotted a guy sitting on the sidewalk and called out to him.

Yo. A little help here?

He totally did not hear me. So I yelled a bit louder. The guy didn't hear me, but some kid in a rain slicker holding a balloon did. Which I thought was weird. It wasn't even raining out, but this kid was dressed head to toe in yellow. Maybe he thought he was a duck.

The kid asked what I was doing. I explained that I had fallen into the drain and now needed some help getting out. The kid gave me a distrusting look and left. Little jerk. I hope he floats away while I'm stuck down here, I thought.

But the man on the sidewalk had taken notice and came over to peer down into the hole. You really shouldn't be down there, he said. It's pretty gross and you could get stuck.

Yes, I said. Please tell me more about what hangs out in storm drains.

Dude pulled me out and I thanked him. He asked if I needed any more help, so I had to explain to him how I had left my wallet at home and needed to buy my sister a present. The man handed me some cash and said I just looked like the kind of person who would pay it forward. I thanked him again and gave him my old business card, the one with my high school photo on it, and told him I hoped so see him around some time.

No one's hair ever look good in high school, so I don't even want to hear it.

At this point, the day was nearly gone. I walked the streets, looking into the storefronts and trying to spot something that would really interest my sister. 

And then I spotted it. Smack dab on the wall near the window of one of those really crazy novelty stores. 

Ye-heh-es! She will LOVE THIS!

I hustled into the shop, where I stopped cold. 

 Uh, what is this?

 

 Don't look at me like that. You're wearing a giant clown on your sweater. Do you even know how ridiculous you look? Please.

I didn't like the way he made me feel, so I went to the back in order to pretend to use the bathroom so that I could really just wait for the sweater-guy to leave. Except they were doing remodeling in the bathroom and forgot to write a note and put it on the door, so when I stepped into the bathroom I fell into a hole.

This really is not my day, people.

I made it out of the bathroom, but I lost both of my shoes in the process. I let the lady at the front counter know about the bathroom situation and went around to the wall next to the window.

A huge poster of Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery pointing guns.

Sweet. Boondock Saints.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the mother of the kids who I had tried to entertain earlier. She was standing next to an officer.

Crap.

Happy Birthday, Seester.  

I love you

Neighborhood Watch is a sham

I've had a bit of trouble acquiring sufficient amounts of sleep over the last few days.

Maybe it's because I was out late two nights in a row (5am, anyone?) over the weekend, or maybe it's because Mumsie took seriously my threat of moving out of this God-forsaken, rain-soaked state of hell and bought me a Verilux happy light. A light which I plugged in next to my bedside table last night and promptly had my retinas scorched with it's laser beam glow. Then, I was awake and "happy" from 3am to 5am staring at the ceiling. Not thinking, really. Just. Staring.

I awoke to sunshine and dragged myself out of bed, opened up all the blinds and windows and tried to let the beautiful day wash over me.

It worked for a little while. I watched my niece ride the scooter up and down the sidewalk while I soaked up the gorgeous rays of sun, and I thought to myself that I was having a pretty good day. Any day with sunshine is a great day.

And then I realized that I wanted nothing more than a nap. No wonder my cat sleeps on my dresser in front of the window. I was tempted myself, but it would be a little awkward. I think I'm too big to really stretch out on top of it.

Around the time I realized I needed sleep, the kids got out of school and Rawr and I hit the streets peddling Girl Scout Cookies.

Uh, except this time Rawr and I put our lazy butts in her car and cruised alongside the girls as they hit each house.

What. It' safe. Besides, SOMEONE had to cart ten thousand boxes of cookies. By that time, the sun was hiding behind some very malicious-looking clouds and we were afraid of rain.

Slinging cookies is hard work, so Rawr and I decided the girls needed to run a few field drills. You know, to test their endurance, their intelligence, and their patience. Besides, I can only exist for so long with a crappy attitude.

My 10 had just left the driveway of one house, and was on the sidewalk headed for the next when she came flush with the car. Rawr put it in drive, and we crept slowly along. In perfect pace with my daughter (who, did I mention, got totally bawled out for losing her GS vest and was pretty mad at me for ragging on her? No? Oh. Well, she and I were both in pretty crappy moods by then). So I stuck my face against the glass and stared at her as we rolled along. Creeper status.

She smiled without looking at me. And began to run. So I rolled down my window.

Me: Hey. Girl. What's your name?

Daughter: [totally getting what I'm doing] Go away lady!

Me: Want some candy?

Daughter: NO!

Me: Better not.

So I let it go for a while. Then we ended up by this house where a guy was standing in his open garage, so I decided to see what kind of Neighborhood Watch Program that area had.

Me: HEY KID! WANT TO PET MY PUPPY? HE'S REALLY CUTE!

The girls were screaming with laughter as they ran down the street. The guy didn't even look up. I was disappointed.

Until we came around the corner. The girls were ahead of us, still walking, and there was some other kid
walking halfway up the street who turned around as she heard our car approach. I called out to my 10.

Me: Do you live around here?

Daughter: [somewhat irritated with me at this point] Leave me alone. I'm trying to sell cookies.

Rawr: That kid is watching you. I think we're freaking her out.

Me: [to my 10] No, really, do you want a ride?

Daughter: Seriously. STOP.

I was really enjoying how utterly freaked out the other kid was.

Me: I know your mom. It's okay.

Daughter: [ignoring me]

Rawr: Help us find our lost dog!

Daughter: MOM! REALLY?! [as the homeowner answers their door] HiWouldYouLikeToBuySomeCookies?

Homeowner: [looking confused] No?

I watched the other kid take off down the street.

I don't know about Rawr, but I had fun tonight. I guess sometimes all we need is some inappropriate behavior and the willingness to go to jail.

February 14th

I've always hated Valentines Day.

For God's sake, if you're in love with someone, freaking tell them all the time. Don't wait for some ridiculous corporate mandated holiday to waste your money on tacky crap.

But I like funny stuff. I suppose if I were to express a slight interest in this day, I might do it in one of the following ways:

SO. MEAN. Yet so funny.

For those of us who aren't really picky about who we love

Um, I found this terribly creepy. I wouldn't know what to think. Is he trying to say he's going to kill me? We'll be together forever? WTF, now I'm scared.

When you never make proper decisions anyway, 

you may as well make them count.

Would you kiss this? Does ANYONE find this attractive at all?

She's probably got a forked tongue. Gross.

Too drunk to make good on those 

promises she made over dinner earlier, too...

Usually. Unless you piss me off. 

My love is basically conditional.

For Gary. 

Barely. In fact, it was a close second...

Hate to see what Karma has up her sleeve for you

Aaaaaaand, my favorite one of all. 

Because this is typically how I express my love.

I'm not really a team player.

Okay, so I had one of those weird days where I almost murdered a man. I didn't, though. All of you should know this before everyone starts getting weirded out. I didn't kill him. But I wanted to.

Let me back up.

In one of my classes, we take quizzes every Tuesday. First, we take the quiz independently (remember this word, because later on you'll get why I was yelling) and then we break into groups and go over the answers & discuss differing answers as needed before going over it as a class with an answer key. Our group then submits the corrected Group Quiz for a score.

(Also, you should know I had to fill some credits so please don't make me tell you why we're talking about independence. Or why we have to define it. Although, for SOME JACKASSES IT WAS NECESSARY. I digress)

What happened was, we took the quiz, all multiple-choice. We are currently studying what it means to be dependent, interdependent, codependent and independent. I mean really, how can you screw that up?

You all know what those mean, right? Right. Because it's BASIC COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Especially if you read the freaking textbook.

The following event is a true and accurate portrayal of massive stupidity. Read at your own risk.

Wrong Answer Guy: I answered C. Independent means you rely on others.

Me: [snort]

WAG: What?

Me: [blink] Oh, my God. I thought you were kidding. No. Independent means you rely on no one. It's all you.

WAG: No. [moves on] For codependent I put A. Means you do everything yourself.

Me: Dude, back up. No. It doesn't. It means you give and give everything so that everyone else-

WAG: You're wrong.

Me: [OH. HELL. NO.] Um. No. I'm not.

WAG: This is the definition from the BOOK, not as it applies to real life. You have the answer wrong.

I'll save you all the details, but I respectfully argued with this guy for the entire ten minutes we had to go over the quiz until I got so pissed I almost kicked him in the shin. Even the instructor came over to listen, standing behind the guy and shaking her head at me because the rest of the group took his side and everyone was telling me I was wrong. I was really confused as to how four other grown adults couldn't define those four terms. The teacher asked us to hurry and go over the rest of the questions, two more of which that guy told me I had wrong.

Forgot to mention I was the recorder for the group so when we started correcting them as a class I said eff it, I'm not changing my answers and kept what I had.

Can you imagine the look on WAG's face when the correct answers matched my answers? And we scored 100%? Instead of a massive failure?

You may think that he would turn around and sheepishly apologize. Or even just ignore me out of utter shame.

No.

Because at the end of class, WAG followed me into the hall and proceeded to argue with me some more.

SERIOUSLY? Hey, Asshole. You were wrong before, you're still wrong, and you'll always be wrong, so stop talking.

Only, he was pissed that I hadn't changed the answers. DUDE. I saved the group from failing the quiz and he wants to argue because I didn't DO AS HE SAID?

Excuse me but 1952 called and laughed at 2013 for getting stuck with their opinionated anti-woman asswipe.

I told him that having been 150% certain of my answer AND GETTING IT RIGHT kind of justified my defiance of some guy I'd never talked to before.

He asked me if I wanted to go to the coffee hall and discuss it further.

I think time screeched to a halt at that point.

Say what.

All I could think was, Did that really just happen?

Is this normal? Do people actually do this or have I been out of the loop so long that I'm completely lost?

I was so fired up at this point that I may have shot off at the mouth and told the guy I've never wanted to junk-punch anyone more than I want to right now and stood there for a moment (I guess maybe contemplating whether or not it would be worth it) before walking away.

He called after me, See you Thursday.

It gets better. I did not get a parking ticket. But. I did almost get hit by two different cars on my way home.

One of them came flying out of a gas station into the highway while looking right, but turning left and I swear my car went right through him, but I guess I only left half my tires on the ground while managing to avoid him. The huge truck behind me flew around my car in order to avoid hitting me, then paced me for a while before giving me a thumbs up (random, but o.k.) and driving on.

The other idiot close call was the same stupid thing four miles later, only from the opposite direction.

I arrived home so keyed up, I swear to God I could have bench-pressed a Buick.

I felt like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Gross.

Seduction. Dorkman style.

Earlier this week I was in the office of a very well-known professional service provider. Doing some stuff.

Truthfully, I got seriously screwed and it cost me a LOT of money.

Take that how you want it. Perverts.

While I waited for my appointment, I decided to stare at everyone in the room. Usually, I have people skills that prevent this awkward (for others) behavior, but this week I think I'm some kind of bat-crap crazy which my or may not be linked to PMS. It's just better not to focus on that, but recognize that I was not my usual self.

I stared down an elderly couple, but they were busy talking about grocery lists and some kind of pot luck. Boring.  There was no one else in my line of vision at that moment, so I moved on to staring at the list of services on the wall (again, do what you want with that). Super sucky.

And then this walked up.

You guys, I'm not even kidding. This is almost exactly the same guy. I'm not even sure that it isn't him. I would apologize for the picture quality but I didn't take it. I just stole it off the internet.

Anyway, this dude walks up and starts chatting with the receptionist whom I didn't even realize was there the entire time. She had been sitting at the desk, bent over and digging through a filing cabinet. I made a note to work on my awareness. Just in case a position ever opens up at the CIA, I want to be ready.

At first the receptionist and this kid in suspenders only conversed about schedules, which bored me. Don't really care if you have choir practice tonight, homie. And judging by the look on her face, neither does she. So I took out my phone and went through my text messages to see if there were any old texts in there that had once made me mad so that I could renew that madness and back-text them in anger (please review earlier admission to being nuts and then try to keep up).

But I almost always delete every text I get unless it's from one of three certain people (for entertainment purposes), so there was really nothing there. And I kind of want to punch people who sit around going through their phones in order to avoid looking awkward, so I put my phone away and resumed staring.

The older couple had disappeared by then, so the only people left were the receptionist and the Dork.

They refused to look at me, so I was unable to cause them discomfort. Instead, I stared at the ceiling while I eavesdropped. But only for a second, because the kid turned out to be a man-whore, which required me to look at him with disgust.

Of course, I decided to text Elle and share with her the incredibly weird exchange going on before me. Feel free to picture me sitting in an office chair, legs crossed while leaning my elbows on my knees just staring at these two fools as I text (poorly, because I can't take my eyes off these fools) to my sister.

Me: Watching 17 yr old kid hit on 40-something woman. They both work here. It's painful to watch and I kind of want to slap him and rescue the woman, although it looks like she's going to do it herself in a sec.

Elle: Oh. My.

I watched this kid lean against the counter, his suspenders clanking on the laminate counter top as he smiled all slimy-like at the woman. He droned on and on about choir practice and how he could skip it to work late with her because he didn't have a curfew (future CEO and cheater in training!).

Me: She told him to get out. Apparently his shift is over but he won't leave. Keeps talking about stupid teenage boy stuff. Told her she was too young to have kids in elementary school. Barf.

Elle: You should walk up and just say "Well that was awkward to watch. I'd save my scrap of dignity and listen to her. As a fellow woman, I guarantee you it's a waste." Or something.

At this point, the little germ-ball asked why this apparent mother-of-four hadn't returned his texts. She smiled and replied that she didn't know they were from him and then she leaned in and scrunched her eyes up in what I think was supposed to be a sexy blink but really came off as astigmatism. Or a seizure.

What? Hello, woman, you don't try to brush off this little twerp and then use your poor flirting skillz to reel him back in. The entire scene was like a terrible public-access television show that I just couldn't pull the plug on.

So then this kid asked her if he can work Thursday. She leaned over the computer monitor and shoved her butt out, which was COMPLETELY unnecessary because he was standing alongside her, facing the monitor as well. It was funny because she misjudged the placement of her elbow in relation to the keyboard, which flew up and clanked all over and fell off the table. Okay. Even I felt bad for her. I mean, I myself have zero flirting skillz and I think I could have pulled off something less ridiculous. In fact, I saw this thing on Pinterest that was absolutely written for me, and even though most of you have already seen it, don't steal it because it's mine:

I need this in my t-shirt collection

Right? Those of you who know me, KNOW THIS IS ME.

Anyway, so the chick is looking at the schedule and says he can work Thursday. Then she asks him what his name is and gets this really weird smile like she thinks she's a stand-up comedienne now and the kid says, "I KNOW you know my name" all seductively and I was like EW HOW EFFING GROSS.

Me: Um. No, because now they're exchanging info and talking about schedules and I think she said 'husband.' She's MARRIED. GROSS.

Elle: Write a note that says "Shame on you" or "I know what you're doing, whore" and drop it as you walk by.

I never got to see what happened next because right then I got called in for my appointment.

Tax preparation and a show.

Now you get the "screwed" reference, don't you?

Told ya.

Face-Off. An original Rap Song.

Um, no. I do not rap. I did that just to excite and then disappoint you. Did it work?

Scene: My bathroom.
Time: Earlier
Cast: My 10 and myself

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, washing my face with a washcloth. My 10 was behind me, watching my reflection with interest while she picked up her clothing. Which was everywhere.  Seriously. Who takes a shower and disrobes with 47 articles of clothing? How many layers does that kid need? I mean really.

Rawr and I may have placed ourselves on a no-alcohol diet starting January 1. I may or may not have broken this rule juuuuuust one time, which is pretty good, right? High 5! Rawr broke it that same weekend all on her own, so don't look at me like that. Besides, Vodka is calorie free, right? It's clear, so it must be. (We had to go off the sauce because we noticed that we would have a few beers/ciders every Friday during movie night. We also noticed that we were looking a little, shall we say, voluptuous? WE FELT FAT)

Um... why was I even talking about that? Let's see... face washing, alcohol, clothes on the floor... OH! I KNOW!

No, you twits. I did not drink a bunch of liquor and lose my clothes, but thank you for the vote of confidence.

We sort of pigged out on super bowl food on Sunday and both woke up this morning feeling gross and greasy. FYI, not a good way to wake up.

You're welcome for that mental image, by the way. Who else pictured a teenage Me with a 1980s hairdo and braces? (Which never happened, so you can stop right there)

Oh, man I'm getting off track.

So we had a few beers and ate a bunch of junk food and today our skin was feeling the effects.

When I was washing my face tonight, my daughter asked me why I wash off the make-up. I explained to her the importance of washing our faces and how pores can get clogged if we don't. I also told her that when you eat a bunch of junk food, your face can break out.

This whole exchange took place while I was leaning over the sink, trying to see if I'd gotten everything off my eyes when my daughter leaned in close.

My 10: Are 'pores' those indentations on your face?

Me: [reeling back] Whoa. Let's dial down the insults, girlfriend. You should see YOUR pores. They look... wait... how do you not have any visible pores, child?!

My 10: [smug smile] Because I'm a kid.

Me: [wrinkling my nose] My skin is older than yours. Besides, you have them. You just can't see them.

My 10: Huh. Well, no wonder women wear make up if you look like that under there.

Ouch.

Then again, she kind of has a point. I don't wear a ton of make-up because ew. I'm not a clown. But, being a redhead, you sort of don't notice I have eyes unless I put mascara on.

As for the rest of my face, there's not a whole lot I can do about that. Except, apparently, hide it.