Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Things I Learned About Places That Are In Other Places Besides Here

So, I just got home from my trip to Washington D.C. (the coldest place on EARTH right now.  Seriously) and I saw some new things that you just don't see down south and they are stuck in my brain.  I am sure there are answers to these things but please don't ruin my good time by being an arrogant douche by being all like, "Pff, well that's because..." and treating me like an idiot.  Not cool.  Anyways, here we go.

1.  Speed Limit Enforced By Air Craft
     So, while traveling to D.C. I noticed these road signs that said Speed Limit Enforced by Air Craft and I gotta know...how does that work, exactly? Are Virginia drivers really so badass that air support is needed to keep their reign of terror in check? I almost wanted to see what that looked like but my friend who was driving didn't think that hurtling along the interstate at break neck speed in the snow was such a grand idea (and neither did I, truth be told as there are now permanent finger nail marks in her armrest).  Do they use helicopters or jets? The former seems more practical but the latter is definitely more awesome and if I were in control of the state budget we would be tracking down those nasty speeders in jets, bitches.  We'll assume, for logic's sake though that they use helicopters.  I mean, as much as we can.  Using a helicopter to catch a speeding violation seems a little extreme, but whatever.  Do they land right on the interstate? This would also be cool.  It's gotta take some time to land that thing, you could just keep going and then what? Seems silly.  Unless they are equipped with some missiles.

Pilot:  Attention you in the Honda Accord.  You are exceeding the speed limit.  Pull over immediately.
Driver:  Wtf...seriously? (come on, that is exactly what I would say).
Pilot:  Bob, fire a warning shot across their hood.
Other Guy:  Roger.
Driver:  Holy shit! Seriously?!

2.  Hungry Mother State Park
     There is a park in Virginia (or maybe it's Tennessee) called Hungry Mother State Park and I'm thinking, who thought up the name for that? That's my first thought.  My second thought is, why? There must be a reason and when I think of the possible implications of this name it causes me a small amount of distress.  Are we talking about a Donner party level of hunger here? Is it possible that it's just referring to bears? If so, that seems like a good reason to stay away from said park.  Mother bears are dangerous.  Hungry mother bears more so, I would imagine.  As distressing as this is, wouldn't it be kind of a disappointment to learn that it's only talking about hungry pigeons? Or hungry anteaters? I kind of like the thought (in a weird, "Fargo" kind of way) of a park somewhere in Virginia (or Tennessee, who knows) where there is a pack of wild Mothers who are very hungry.  Bears or humans.  Or both. 

3.  Mutant D.C. Squirrels
     This was my first trip to D.C. ever and so I felt a little self-conscious with my friend and her family who actually live there.  I was taking pictures of everything.  I felt even more stupid when I started taking pictures of squirrels.  Granted, these were mutant squirrels, but still.  Who takes a picture of a squirrel? I do.  You should have seen these things.  They were the size of small dogs.  They might have been small dogs.  Small dogs that climb trees.  They eat right out of your hand! This makes most people go "Aww! That's awesome!" but because when I was 11 my friend had a pet squirrel that attacked me (it jumped out of its cage onto my face.  Scarred me for life) I was not thrilled with the audacity of these abnormal woodland animals.  It was Fallout 3 come to life!  One of them started following me.  I didn't even have any food but it didn't care.  It stalked me.  I was scared of it, seriously.  Not only because I have a bad history with squirrels but because this squirrel was huge.  I can't stress that enough.  It could have easily bitten off one of my limbs and tied it to a tree as a warning to other tourists who come into its territory without the proper offerings. 

4.  The Dude on Top of the White House
     Ok, so before I talk about this guy I have to talk about how ridiculously cold it is in D.C.  I mean, it is not the same kind of cold as it is here in Georgia.  Here it is cold.  There it is damn cold and the wind is basically a huge asshole that mocks you.  By the end of the day, I was experiencing a level of numbness like I had never felt before.  I could not feel any part of my face.  With that said, I noticed (or rather, it was pointed out to me) that there was a dude on top of the White House.  No doubt his job was to shoot people.  How would you like to put that on your resume?

Prior Work Experience:  Fry cook at Hooters; Sniper on top of the White House.

What I was really wondering was how much he gets paid to just stand up there. Because let's face it, you probably don't get to see much action up there.  You don't really hear much of that on the news.  You're probably not allowed to take potshots at the mutant squirrels, either.  Even though most of those squirrels were around the reflection pool, it would still be fun to try.  He has to have a pretty powerful rifle, I figure.  And it's cold.  Not just cold, but damn cold.  And the wind has to be an even bigger asshole if you're on a roof.  I wanted to wave at him but I didn't just in case his boredom got the best of him.

5.  Snow!
      I'm not a complete rube, I know what snow is.  I've seen snow before.  But not this kind of snow.  In Georgia we don't get snow often but when we do everything shuts down.  It could be less than an inch and the whole state just stops operating.  That's because what we call snow is actually just ice.  Driving on ice is bad.  This is why I was terrified in the car during our trip because it was snowing and in my southern mind snow = ice.  To my surprise I learned that snow is not, in fact the equivalent of ice but is actually...well...snow.  Whatever.  It's not the same! You make a snowball there and you throw it and it hits your friend and it busts apart and you run around and generally act like Rain Man and it's awesome.  You make a "snowball" in Georgia, someone is going to the emergency room eventually with a concussion and maybe some slight internal bleeding.  It took a few awkward moments of walking on this new snow like I was trying to perform some sort of complex dance maneuver before I realized that hey, this isn't ice.  It's...snow! Still, I didn't want to be too excited due to my fear of looking like an imbecile.  On the inside, though I felt like I was five years old.

Monday, December 20, 2010

5 Things That Suck (BIG TIME) About Love-Sickness

So, I've been thinking lately about what I want to waste everyone's time with and this is what I came up with.  Why? NO REASON! WHY DO YOU ASK? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?

1.  It makes you stupid
     Not many people realize this, but love actually makes you stupid.  I don't mean like you know, you're goofy or mushy and all that but literally stupid.  You may not have ever really considered yourself to be a stupid person, but you notice lately the dumbest shit comes out of your mouth.  Stuff that you would make fun of other people for saying.  Like the following (actual) conversation:

YOU:  This stuffed animal is cute...
OTHER PERSON:  Thanks.  Why are you looking at it like that?
YOU:  Because I can't figure out what kind of creature it is.  Is it a deer?
OTHER PERSON:  ....It's a dog...
YOU:  Oh.  I'm sorry.  But it's cute!

Now, normally you would be able to tell the difference between a deer and a dog.  Even in the stuffed animal world, there are several distinct differences between the two.  This is what I mean by stupid.  The long floppy ears should have been a huge clue but you completely missed it because all that is in your head right now is basically the equivalent of scrambled eggs.

2.  Insomnia
     This is by far the worst symptom of love-sickness, especially for people who love to sleep.  You try but you just can't.  Because you want to recount every word that was spoken and in the case of one-sided or unrequited love, you want to search for the smallest clue that will give your pathetic obsession substance and then you can reassure yourself that you are not insane.  You are, though.  You are now a crazy person. 

3.  Stupid love songs
     This comes in very close behind insomnia under the major suckage department because you now find that every stupid love song that comes on the radio now has some sort of hidden meaning and you're like, "Omg! Exactly!"  These songs weren't written for you.  Don't be an imbecile.  But still you find yourself belting out at the top of your voice:  "THE WAY YOU CUT A RUG, WATCHING YOU IS THE ONLY DRUG I NEED...SON OF A BITCH, I HATE THIS SONG! WTF?!"  I am actually kind of fond of that song.  See what I mean? I hope all of you are now popping in your Train cd's to listen to Soul Sister.  Welcome to hell.  I saved a seat for you.

4.  Inability to Focus
     On anything at all.  You need to study for your test? Too bad! You need to focus on your job.  Denied! You need to hang out with your friends? Well, you can do that but your conversation will be completely hijacked by the topic of OTHER PERSON.  And this brings us to number five, which is:

5.  You are so freakin' obvious
     It is embarrassing but because you can't seem to maintain presence of mind long enough to realize that you have been talking about OTHER PERSON non-stop, everyone knows.  To make things worse, when you realize this you try to overcompensate by pretending that you have never even heard of OTHER PERSON.

YOU:  Haha.  And then OTHER PERSON said...
TOTALLY AWARE FRIEND:  You know, you talk about OTHER PERSON a lot.
YOU:  Who? I don't who you mean.

So, these are just my observations and this has absolutely nothing to do with me.  Stop looking at me like that!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Alice's Close Encounter (WITH DEATH!!!!)

So, I have two dogs as most of you already know.  Zoe, my main dog and Alice, my emergency back up dog (fyi, I wish I could claim the use of "main dog" and "emergency back up dog" as my own, but I cannot.  That particular privilege belongs to one Mr. Dave Barry.  Curse him for being so damn clever! Still, he is a very, very funny man and if you haven't read any of his works, I strongly encourage you to do so).  Now, Zoe is the "good" dog.  I say "good" because she very rarely does anything wrong but she's a little on the stupid side.  Alice rarely does anything right at all.  Not because she's stupid but because she doesn't care to behave.  She just does whatever the hell she wants to do.  I am entering into the acceptance phase of dog-raising with Alice.  I've taught her how to sit, lie down and do this other cute little trick where I say "Hut, hut!" and she runs between my legs and I give her a treat.  Incidentally, my friend James showed me this trick after he and his wife taught their 2 ton rottweiler how to do it.

Anyways, Alice is very smart.  She also has this way of making me forget how naughty she is by doing various cute things.  Like looking pitiful by shivering (probably fake) with cold.  So, instead of saying "Tough! Look at all the crap you've destroyed! Like the window in my bedroom!" (true story.  She broke the window in my bedroom by trying to jump out of it.  Not to mention what she did to the blinds! Here's a photo, though because of the ridiculous cold weather I had to ghettofy it until I can get it fixed.  You should have seen the blinds before I cut the bottom off) I say, "You're lucky you're cute".  

This is all that remains of Zoe's tennis ball.
She also does stuff like tear up Zoe's toys.  I buy both of them toys.  Alice likes toys she can destroy,  while Zoe is content with tennis balls or anything she can chase down.  So, I but tennis balls for Zoe and destructible toys for Alice.  But is Alice content with tearing up her own toys? Well, hell no.  She has to tear up Zoe's toys as well.  Here is what is left of Zoe's tennis ball.  Also, here is a toy I bought for Alice that is supposed to be indestructible.  Still looks intact, doesn't it? That's because Alice never plays with it.  Why? Because she can't destroy it and this doesn't interest her at all. 

As I've said, I'm entering the acceptance phase of this relationship.  Alice is just a bad dog.  I'm going to buy toys and Alice is going to destroy them.  But what happens next is where I still am in need of some serious anger management therapy.  What you see in my hand here is a copy of a brand new video game.  I want to stress the "brand new" part of this.  Meaning, this game cost $60.  And the best part is, it doesn't even belong to me.  It belongs to a friend of mine who very graciously let me borrow it because I do not have $60 extra dollars just lying around but I really wanted to play Fable III (p.s. it is fantastic).  Alice usually reserves her destruction for things she finds lying on the floor.  Like my underwear or my shoes or Zoe's toys or the dustpan (I no longer have a dustpan).  This she took off the table along with a memory card for my xbox and a small (but beloved) plastic transformer (EJECTOR! A decepticon toaster) and proceeded to eat them.  Not just destroy them but eat them.  As in, I found parts of these things but the other parts of these things I never found because she ate them. 

Why? I don't know because dogs can't talk but that did not stop me from asking her in a very firm (i.e. loud) voice.  "WHY?!" Then I had to retreat to the bathroom which is the only room in the house where I can be alone and the dogs can be safe from me.  I was in the bathroom for a very long time saying over and over again "I can't take this anymore.  I can't.  She's driving me insane.  I should just give her actual money to tear up because that would skip the middle man altogether and we could just get it over with!" And then I came up with the perfect plan.  I flung the bathroom door open and said:

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And she ran because if I'm in the bathroom and I'm talking to her that means I might intend to bathe her.  I storm into the living room and she comes out from under the coffee table, pleased that I'm not in the bathroom anymore and so impending doom by bath isn't going to happen today.  And she looks at me and I look at her and she wags her little tail and then she shivers and I am filled with RAGE and I say, "GET IN THE CAR! WE'RE GOING TO GO BUY YOU A SWEATER!!!!!!! AND PROBABLY SOME NEW TOYS, DAMNIT!!!!!!"

Sunday, December 12, 2010

I Was a Young Jedi

Christmastime with my family always makes me reminisce because we are a reminiscing bunch, we are.  We eat and eat and eat and eat until we can't move and we're all groaning because we ate too much and yet, we still pick up a piece of ham or turkey as we hobble through the kitchen and eat that, too.  Then we all sit around the table and tell funny stories of relatives who are no longer with us so that the little kids will know how awesome they were.  Or we say things like, "Doesn't he look just like his daddy? The spitting image!" That is my favorite part of Christmas, to be honest.  We have our family Christmas at my late grandparent's house where my cousin now lives with his family and I watch all the kids now do the same things I used to do when I was their age, like jump off the porch (which was much higher when I was a kid.  I frowned in disappointment yesterday as I stood at the edge and realized it only comes up to my thighs), or swing on that old wrought iron swing that has been there for...who knows how long, or climb on top of the old well while my cousins (who, I would like to point out were just as guilty of it when they were kids!) yell at them to get down right now!

My favorite Christmas story by far, though is the day that my parents realized that I was either Damien, the Omen or a young jedi.  I like to believe the latter, myself.  When I was little, Santa never wrapped our presents.  He just left them under the tree so we could marvel in all their sparkly Christmastime glory. It was  toy overload! There is not enough candy or sugar in the world to rival the excitement that Christmas morning brought.  When I was about five I decided that I just could not wait until Christmas morning to see what Santa had left for me.  I crept down the hall while my parents were sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the devious and criminal actions taking place right under their own roof!

Now, at the end of the hallway was the door to the living room which was kept shut to discourage peeping eyes.  I was old enough to know that that door might make a sound, so I went around through the kitchen and the dining room and holy cow! Presents everywhere! I was so happy but I was very careful not to actually touch anything.  I was so excited that I went out the living room door and scampered back to my room, congratulating myself on being so clever.  My curiosity well-fed, I fell asleep immediately.  It didn't even seem that long until my brother was telling me to wake up! Santa had been to our house! Little did he know, I already had access to his outdated and now worthless information.

Nevertheless, I joined him in the hallway where my parents stood at the living room door looking very displeased.  I had left the door standing wide open!  Inwardly, I panicked.  I couldn't blame it on my brother because of course, he would deny it and that would put Christmas on hold indefinitely.  I needed to come up with something.  I needed someone to blame.  Someone who could not refute my claim but would still be plausible to my parents.  My little mind worked furiously as I put forth my best effort to remain an innocent (lol) five year old girl on the outside.

"Someone went into the living room and peeked at the presents," my mother said with a very serious expression.  Things could not have been more serious if I had robbed a bank or kicked a puppy or streaked through the neighborhood singing "Jingle Bells" at the top of my lungs.

"It wasn't me," my brother and I chimed in unison.  Years of doing things like setting the living room carpet on fire and drawing smiley faces on the furniture with permanent marker had honed our ability to deny things to the point where we could do it almost before they accused us of doing anything at all.  It was a talent.  A gift, really.

"Well, it didn't open by itself," she countered.  Curse my mother and her logic!

"One of you better confess or we'll all just go back to bed!" my dad said in a much "firmer" voice.  My brother looked at me and I could feel hate oozing from him.  If I confessed I might not get any of my presents! If I didn't come up with something soon, it would be the same as confessing.  It seemed as though years went by as the wheels in my head turned then suddenly, I had it! I looked up at my parents and in my sweetest, most innocent voice I said:

"Maybe Santa left it open."  Silence.  I was still a little unsure.  What if they called Santa and asked him?  I knew they had his number because my mother was always threatening to call him.  If that happened I was looking at coal in my stocking next Christmas and possibly the Christmas after that.  It was risky.  Mostly, however I was confident that Santa was a kind old soul (and merry!) and that he would understand the overwhelming curiosity that belongs only to the very young.  I maintained my outward appearance of innocence and ignorance while mentally willing my parents to believe it.  After a bit, my parents seemed to buy this story and I breathed an inward sigh of relief.  Christmas resumed as normal and I had no clue how clever and air-tight my alibi had been until years later when I realized that there was no feasible way that my parents could have called my bluff.  To do so, they would have had to explain how it couldn't have been Santa.  I wonder if my parents realized at that moment that my gift for bullshitting was already at jedi proportions and my power would only grow from there.  Were they afraid?

As it turns out, Santa is a very forgiving old man and has been good to me ever since.  Thanks, Santa.  ^_^

Wednesday, December 1, 2010


So, here is a program dedicated to helping people do things that I could never do.  Like rock climbing.  I went rock climbing once.  And I really want to stress the "once" part because me and heights do not go well together even if I am standing on a rock.  I really don't do much of anything but fiddle around on my computer and play the Sims (as discussed in a previous post), but I can click a button like a champ!  I think people who are not tempted to vomit and/or faint when way up high are pretty impressive.  I think people who do anything active are impressive, actually and that is why I am rooting for Summit Quest Adventures to win this Pepsi Refresh Everything...thing.   I'm not really a "plugger" but it would be awesome if this group got this support because they help people and helping is good good.

So, in lieu of rambling on about my sad life which I'm sure you all were highly looking forward to...go HERE and vote for Summit Quest Adventures.

Here is a picture of storm troopers on wiener dogs for your enjoyment and as a "thanks" for going to vote.