Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Christmas Eve Rant

One of the things that makes me most angry in the world is intolerance. Who cares if there's a moment of silence in school? Or pledging allegiance to the flag? Who cares if a group of students wants to pray on campus? Who cares if people say Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa? If someone doesn't wish to participate, they won't. I think there should be a mutual respect for all religions. And as long as they're not hurting anyone (like extremists) they should be tolerated and even welcomed.

Values are being whitewashed. Assimilate! Just like the great immigrations; people came from everywhere around the world, and eventually just became the same. They were encouraged to do so. Not to mention the Native American children being taken from their homes and forced into American schools and American cultures. In other countries today people are forced into silence. They will be punished if they try to practice anything but their required religion. I never want our country to be like that. I think the only concern would be for anti-religion in this country. I don't aspire to belong to a plain vanilla society, where people have to practice their beliefs behind closed doors because they might offend someone else. I want everybody mixed together and learning and understanding about one another. I want choices. I want non-judgement. Since when did anti-religion become our religion? It is freedom OF religion that our country has promised us, not freedom FROM religion. That covers all religions: Christian, Jewish, Wicca, Agnostic, Atheist, Buddhist, Muslim, etc.

"Put Christ back in Christmas" they say. Well, sure, if he's in Christmas for you, feel free to put him in. But when someone replies with "Happy Hanukkah" don't get all pissy about it. There's no way to know what someone's religion is unless they let you know. Opening up this discussion in an adult way, which is nonjudgmental and generates from interest in someone's culture, is very healthy. If someone prefers "Happy holidays" then good for them. They are trying to be considerate of all beliefs, and I respect that. But of course there are people who get pissed when they hear "Happy holidays!" These snobby a-holes should get over themselves. The whole world doesn't revolve around them and their particular beliefs.

On the same token, I retreat when someone is trying to force their religion on me. There's nothing that turns me off more than someone getting pushy and telling me what I should believe. One evening (in my teens) I was attending a youth group at church and the youth leader felt it was time to teach us that all other religions are going to Hell. By that time I was already questioning religion, but that really put it over the top. I walked out and was lead to the current belief system which I hold: "I don't know anything."

So many wars have started over religion; I honestly think it is toxic. Hey, religious leaders, you could have thrown us a bone and at least TRIED to foresee people disagreeing with you and starting wars. They might have included something in their religious texts along the lines of "be fucking tolerant"? I think Buddha worked out something similar. Kudos to you, Buddha. You're kind of a badass.

Every December I hear a lot of bullshit being expressed about how everyone is doing it wrong. I guess you might be able to add this rant to the list, but I had to say my piece because I've heard too much about how certain people are bad or wrong or putting Christian culture at risk of extinction, blah blah blah. I'm just so spent on all the negativity and judgement that I had to say something about it. Thanks for listening. Feel free to speak your bit.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Milk, from Cows Mad as Lorries

Alright, so I don't know if anyone else feels like this about milk, but my emotions regarding milk came as a surprise to me today as well. First of all, I stopped drinking milk when my colitis was going crazy, so maybe I'm not the best person to even HAVE emotions about milk, but I'm going to push forward anyway. This afternoon we were having our annual company Christmas lunch, which was awesome and probably my favorite in all seven years of my employment with the company. We ate at this nice little Italian place with games and laughter and prizes. After our drinks were ordered and served, as I was casually glancing around the room at everyone having a good time, I did a double take when I saw a tall slightly bubbly glass of cold milk. I looked around in search of raised eyebrows of my coworkers and saw none. I thought of reaching out to someone and whispering in conciliatory tones. I resisted. I would keep my milk snobbery to myself, bear the burden alone. I tried to focus on other things, but my eyes kept darting uncomfortably at the glass of milk. Somehow milk seemed totally inappropriate for a professional environment. It made me think of mother cows with babies at their teats. Milk mustaches. Brownies wedged between the small pearly white teeth of children. A substance the should be hidden and sacred, kept within the confines of ones home or the home of very close loved ones. It was milk, warming on the table in a land filled with iced tea and sweating glasses of Coke. Milk, who got pushed around, trying to fit in and being snubbed and ignored and teased by the other kids on the playground. I tried to reconcile the reasons for my recoiling. Is this normal? If I were to visit the home of an acquaintance (not a close, personal friend) would the list of beverages they might offer perhaps include milk? "Would you like anything to drink? Soda? Tea? ...Milk?" I managed to hold down the unsightly sneer my lip was quivering to make, and once the milk was gone I pushed it to the back of my mind, promising to revisit the thought later and hopefully come to a conclusion about the reasons behind my unexpected reaction. All I can conclude is that the film Snatch makes a good point, as follows:

Tommy: You shouldn't drink that stuff anyway. [looking at the milk Turkish is drinking]
Turkish: Why, what's wrong with it?
Tommy: It's not in sync with evolution.
Turkish: Shut up.
Tommy: Cows have only been domesticated for the last eight thousand years. Before that, they were running around mad as lorries. The human digestive system hasn't got used to dairy products yet.
Turkish: Well, fuck me, Tommy. What have you been reading?
Tommy: Let me do you a favour. [takes the milk off Turkish's hand and throws it out the window and it hits a car behind them followed by screeching tires and a loud crash]
Both: [look at each other] Whoops.

It's not much of a theory, but it's all I've got. As a side note, Snatch is a badass movie and I highly recommend it. It's better the second time around, because you're kind of confused until you get to the end otherwise. (Much like Fight Club and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Derby Dames

Since the first time I heard about it, I've been smitten with roller derby. Bad ass chicks being allowed to act aggressively, duke it out with other girls, and still rock fishnet stockings? Yes, please! I feel as though some day I, too, will be a derby girl. From time to time I find myself fantasizing about what my derby name would be. The movie Whip It had some pretty excellent names. Recently I've been toying with the name Purple Nurple. Think about it, purple fishnets, black tutu/shorts, purple/black shirt layers? No? Perhaps not something so themed? How about Blitzkrieg Britt? Too many WWII connotations? Alright, alright, I'll keep working on it. I hope you do the same!

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Meddley of Many Things

I was lucky enough to be listening to NPR today when Nikky Finney was being interviewed about her poetry. I heard her read a couple and they really speak to me. Poetry is badass and I love the way thoughts and creative expressions slip and slide through my brain. Miss Finney said something during the interview about needing to write every day. I cringed internally because I tend to feel a pang of guilt every time I log into Blogger and skulk through the writing of others without giving back a single word over such a vast amount of time. Have I ever told you that I've been writing since I was a kid? I mean, young elementary school age. Either a diary, or a scrap of paper, or a spiral notebook or anything I could get my hands on at whatever moment a thought strikes me. For years I have slept with a notepad on my bedside table in hopes of capturing a groggy whim. My notebook has been a bit of a dust collector lately. While I strongly resist making commitments, I feel like I should make more of an effort to exchange ideas instead of solely observing the ideas of others. Now that I'm thinking about it, this is the way I deal with new people who I meet in the real world. I am non-committal, quiet, and observant, until I feel safe enough to unleash my true self. So this "observe only" thing I seem to be partaking in really isn't a surprise. I don't know why I've gotten shy all of a sudden. I know I have had excruciatingly little time to get ANYTHING done except go to work, school, and occasionally shower, since this semester began. But I feel like I need to start putting an effort forth for "self time" where I write (or take pictures), even if it's a couple words a day. EVEN IF those words are "I don't wanna" or "avoid the paht thai." Whatever makes me feel like there is an open and flowing dialogue rather than a closed, tiptoeing, take-only relationship going on here. In the spirit of giving, allow me to provide you with a current life happenings update: I recently turned 27. Wooooah, dude. I have officially completed 3/4 of the Spanish I am required to take, with nothing less than a B average. Criminal Justice and Social Work classes are going along smoothly. By the end of Spring 2012 I should have my Associates Degree. Only took me...um...8 years? The lesson to learn here is, when you want something, just fucking do it and stop twiddling your thumbs! Though I did have to support myself all these years with a job and paying for classes as I take them, 8 years is far too many years. Despite the fact that I get down about the uphill battle of schooling ofttimes, I'm pretty proud of myself, and that's a damn good feeling. Moving on. Family chaos, good and bad, has been and will continue to brew. My little brother, Jeremy, just came for Thanksgiving. I love that little Hell raiser; he's nice to talk to and a free-thinker. He plans on moving here in March, and I hope he doesn't change his mind. I love all of my siblings and wish we could be in closer proximity more often (i.e. always). I am wholeheartedly howling Christmas music in my car, shower, and home in general. (I do this all year long, so it feels good to have a specific time of year that it seems "normal" to those who are around me.) I have a cold, but am planning on beating the shit out of it with an onslaught of vitamin C. [Life Happenings Update List: Complete] Seems I've jumped around a bit here, but covered some good ground and have the monkey off my back, if only for a moment, about my lack-of-posting guilt. Stay tuned. "After these messages, we'll be riiiight back!"

Friday, November 11, 2011


11/11/11 at 11:11 I'm not sure why this seems important, but IT SOOO DOES! Eep!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Insects of All Hallows Eve

Yesterday we celebrated Halloween. I had class (lame!) but got out early (score!) and rushed home with a supplemental bag of candy for weary children who had the wherewithal of spirit to continue their tromp through the night. Before I arrived home, Richard was left to fend for himself passing out candy to children with whom he has had very little experience interacting. Over the phone on my way home he recounted a notable experience of his candy dispensing. A little girl in a gray suit with droopy gray wings and a tiara came up to the door. In Richard's attempt to interact with the child he excitedly exclaimed, "Oh, are you a moth?!" The little girl gave her mother an accusatory glance and replied, "No. I'm a butterfly princess." Ouch. Fortunately, Minnie came to the rescue of the other trick-or-treaters shortly thereafter.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


Our shiba inu, thoroughly enjoying a nap on the living room rug.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Under Pressure

Constant pressure. Constant pressure. You press, press, press. Sure, me. I say good morning. You billow out smoke. Psshhhhhhhh. Gonna be one of those days. I reserve myself, Since you said so, I’ll accept it I billow out smoke. Pssshhhhhhhhhhhhh. Thinking of carving out a little nook To hide, relax. But then that puts the pressure on All that thinking What about exercise? Body strain, sweat, heart slamming Purple faced, chest heaving Sounds like more stress. At least it would make me more human. What are we doing here? Fucking ourselves up, For what? We’re all dead men walking, History being made And while the world turns I sit in my box Slamming numbers and letters on various screens And trying to decode the reason For my existence. …Yes, move the decimal to the right, ...Now carry the 2. …Eureka! The answer is…eyes quivering behind black eyelids. Little fuzzy stars popping. Nothing at all.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Life of A Flower

I feel a darkness approaching
After so many days of sunshine

I was a flower once, didn’t I tell you?
They chopped my head off
Because they thought I was beautiful
And more valuable dead

Little did they know I’d wither
My hair was crunchy
And the color of dried blood

They offered me sugar water,
Which grew stale
It’s hard to take a drink with your throat cut.
Still, I tried to say thank you.

Then they hung me wrong side right
In a dark place
For days or weeks or months
And they made my corpse
A dusty shrine

I haven’t felt
Like myself

Friday, August 26, 2011

Medium Rare

I think as an adult I suffer from an extreme lack of time that isn't dedicated to something. During my teenage years I had nothing to manage except showing up for school and putting in a half-assed effort. Then I got a job. Then a second job. And before I knew it, I was in a whirl wind of 100% pre-dedicated time. Gone were the days of exploring new music, laying upside down on my bed staring at the ceiling and shooting the shit with someone close to me. I super-pack my time. As I sit here listening to Tracy Chapman-Fast Car and doodling in Microsoft Paint this realization is striking me. I float on a breeze back to a different time in my life. A time in which I really got to KNOW people. Those were the days of best friends, people you could expose your soul to and let it hang there raw between you. Or at least medium rare.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Root of the Problem

Today I went to the dentist for the first time since...(drum roll, please) 2002! Holy canolie! And guess what? I'm basically the queen of clean when it comes to my mouth because I had NOT ONE SINGLE CAVITY. Not ONE SINGLE thing that needed to be crowned, root canaled, capped, NOTHING. NADA. To that I say Hell-to-the-Yes! ::Fist pump::
In other dentistry news, when I arrived at the dentist office, there was a drunk homeless man sleeping outside the building. To put this drunk homeless man in context, my dentist office is one building away from a liquor store, so it wasn't super surprising. The super surprising part of my story takes place while I was sitting in the chair in the midst of a teeth cleaning session. The assistant came in and informed my dentist that the totally wasted homeless man decided to cool off and come into the office. As I was walking out of the payment area, I saw the sleepy fella snuggling with a stool in the children's play area. I honestly didn't even feel phased by it. What does that say about me? Either I'm desensitized to oddities such as this due to living for quite some time in the city, or that I have a high threshold for weird.
I personally am hoping it's my high threshold for weird.

Saturday, August 6, 2011


I try to surround myself with good, quality people. The rare occasional friends or family members that somehow find themselves into my desolate social circle are the cream of the crop. People that I feel I can completely trust and have a great deal of respect for. I'm exceptionally fortunate to have found people that qualify for this position because I am a terrible maintainer of friendships. I spend most of my time with family. Family doesn't require anything more than the occasional holiday visit, which is easily accomplished when there is a delicious Christmas ham, candied yams, holiday fruit salad, and other such special once-per-year items awaiting my arrival. Family is easy. Well, certain parts of family is easy, at least. Some are high quality cream of the crop types, and others...well, not so much.
I was brought up with a hyper sensitive radar in respect to quality of persons. I think it was a survival skill. I've often pondered people in the figurative form, but never really put words to an idea that has been brewing since I was very young. I realized that when it comes to people, I tend to subtract the rotten parts. Since I was raised surrounded by what I can only describe as 'criminals' I realized that there are certain parts of each person that have to be overlooked or subtracted or at least considered when determining in which capacity they can be trusted, because there are people who can be considered trustworthy in some aspects and completely shady in others. Some people I can trust with my life, but not with my money. Some people ALWAYS have selfish motives, so it's alright to be wary around them, even though I might still come out on top. I just have to be aware that they will come out with more and I have to be fine with that. Some people tell you what their rotten parts are, and that makes things much easier. Some you have to learn the hard way and get burned. I think I'm very easy to get along with because I'm constantly considering what parts need to be subtracted from a person and in which situations it is appropriate and wise to do so. I try to consider the whole picture and adjust my thought processes around it. I was brought up to believe that EVERYONE has skeletons in their closet. Some bigger than others. I guess I don't really believe that anymore, but maybe it's good to go into a new relationship of any kind with that idea in mind. Then again, maybe it's paranoid.
I have learned, without realizing it, to follow my intuition. There are some people that are simply unavoidable. People in the family that are part of the package deal, and friends who are shady but are part of a larger friend circle that makes it worth it to stick around. Intuition once seemed to me very abstract and possibly hokey, like witchcraft or God or karma. But when you think about it, people believe strongly in all of those things. So I guess I can consider myself a believer in the abstract. This is a nice idea. I think everyone needs something to believe in, physical or otherworldly. It makes us feel more connected.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Words I Love


Brain spasm: COMPLETE.



Friday, July 8, 2011

Dork Ego Stroking

I was running errands this week when I stopped by Walgreens to get my fire hydrant photo developed to hang up at home (my bathroom + fire hydrant photo = doggy equivalent of bathroom = sheer dorky joy!). When I was done with my shopping I went to pick up the photo and they actually made me sign a release form stating that I was the photographer because it looked like a professional photo! My artistic ego was thoroughly stroked. I need to share my joy with you, World! :D :D :D I am also inspired to start taking more pictures; I've really slacked off over the last couple years due to lazy down-time and an abundance of other life obligations. Maybe this was just the boost I needed to begin embarking on photo expeditions again. Hooray for inspiration!

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Memories in Music

Music makes pathways through time. I think of certain eras in my life in terms of particular songs or bands and the feelings they gave me. Music helps to define and sharpen memories. Not all bad, not all good but, regardless, thoroughly experienced through song. In nearly every small and large relationship I've been in, I've always had this desire to make a mixed tape at the end of that relationship to cover the whole spectrum I was given, and share it with the person it was linked to. Of course, that would somewhat defeat the purpose of a break-up, or at least tarnish the finality of it. Since Richie and I have been going strong for a good 5+ years, I suppose it's time to do an intermittent band catalog that defines the musical hieroglyphics of our time together thus far. They are as follows:

The Cure. Bob Dylan. Blind Melon*. Bjork. Fiona Apple*. Gin Blossoms.

*Indicates especially potent.

I would be so incredibly interested in which songs remind people of me, but I suppose there's no knowing, though I am certain they exist. Le sigh. Tell people which songs they are linked to, I implore you! It feels somehow important.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Shower Singing

Before I begin, let me say that in certain circles I am well known for my unbridled shower singing.
This morning I get a phone call from Richard informing me that as he was leaving the house for work our neighbor came over to borrow a paint roller. Rich came back inside and grabbed one and just as he opened the door to hand over the roller, he hears me belting out from the shower "I love you, for sentimental reasons..." in my loudest Nat King Cole impersonation. Things got a little flustered for him after that, but the paint roller was safely delivered.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Alphabet Soup Club

I find that it's very easy to get stuck in life-ruts. When one has a regular routine it simplifies life. You don't have to fight against the current; you are simply riding the tide. I have found myself in a cozy little life nook as of late. I've been working full time and taking night classes and when one is so busy it's "difficult" and "disruptive" to leave the cozy life nook. I was listening to an NPR interview a few months ago about the perception of time as we age. The purpose of the interview was to explore the reason time seems to go by faster as we get older. One thing they pointed out was that everything is a whole new experience for children, they take more detailed information in. As adults, since we've already seen so much, we tend to subtract out the details and look at the whole picture rather than all the tiny elements that make up the whole. The human mind is fascinating in that way, but in a sense I feel like I'm being cheated out of something. That's why it's so important to keep your neurons stirring, adding new elements to the stew so you can pounce on the tiniest details and save them all up to keep the mind fresh and excited, constantly experiencing entirely new environments and people and ideas.
This makes me think of those people that push the belief that "you should live every day like it's your last." While this is not practical for the structure of society that we have built for ourselves, there is some wisdom in the concept that I can appreciate. It's up to each individual to go out and grab the bull by the horns and shake things up, even if it's just in a small way. Small things build memories and make experiences thick and husky and significant.
In the spirit of new experiences, my comrades at work and I began a weekly lunch outing we affectionately named The Alphabet Soup Club. Once a week we go to a new restaurant starting with the next letter of the alphabet, A to Z. Without realizing it, I have been taking in loads of tiny details from each new place, storing it and analyzing it and considering whether I'd like to repeat the experience and return to the restaurant. I know this is a very small event, but I find that it has been really valuable for me.
It's important to always be conscious of the way we are living. If one starts to stagnate or get bored with the way things are, it is up to the individual to make a conscious effort to shake things up. When we wait for change, our life is in the hands of fate. When we make changes, even if things don't turn out the way we plan, we hold the power.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Happy Birthday, Bob Dylan

Today Bob Dylan turns 70 years old. In a time when much of our music is auto-tuned, washed out, and starving for a message, Bob Dylan endures. Richard and I got the opportunity to see him a couple years ago when he played at the Arizona State Fair; I love the idea that I got a chance to be in the same room with a man that helped to shape history through his music. Cheers to helping make changes and letting your freak flag fly, Mr. Dylan. Rock on.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Art of Sumo Wrestling

As I strapped on my inflatable Japanese sumo wrestler costume (my newest yard sale find) and bounded around the house making sumo sounds, Richard trailed along behind me declaring "THIS is why Whittles* are always late!"

*Little does he know, it's the other side of the family - my hillbilly side - that is to blame for my excessive lateness. And who could resist trying out a new Japanese sumo wrestler costume?

Feed the Birds

This is one of my favorite ultra contrasty photos from my recent trip to Florida. I was there for five splendid days. This photo was taken while my mom, sister and I were on a glass bottom boat racing with dolphins. We were tantalizing the seagulls with Cheetos; they would swoop down and pluck them right from our fingers. All around extraordinary.

And now I have a compulsion to share a Mary Poppins clip for you which sparked in my memory when I saw this photo. My brain is a stew of movie quotes and songs and, though it may be painful to admit, I basically have a good chunk of this movie memorized.

Friday, April 22, 2011

John Whittle Jr

My great uncle John Whittle Jr passed away on April 14th. He was a wild fella in his day, and he lived a full life. He was one of those magical people that could light up a room. Picture taken circa 1957 during his time in the US Air Force. Handsome devil.

The older I get, the more people die. It's a clear law of nature, but something I never put much thought into. I believe that death is one of the hardest parts of being an intelligent life form - awareness of how persistent time is and that we don't stand a chance. Animals have it easy in that respect. Death can be kind, when we're prepared and have an opportunity to say our farewells. I'm grateful that we had the chance to say goodbye. I'll miss you, uncle J.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Saying Goodbye

Death waits for him, hooded, stretched at his feet, while his children cross miles.
He is welcome, so he is kind.
Dark fingers sprawl on knees. He bides his time.
He wonders what floats through the traveler's mind.
Perhaps of his children, or things unfinished.
Love wells up around him in a chorus. Not yet an angel's song.
Death, he waits. Graceful and, above all, sincere.
He reminds his traveler of a job well done. He hums a tune in a deep baritone. Promises answers to the ultimate mystery. Arouses excitement and human curiosity.
He drifts between two worlds. A signer to a timeless future, where dreams are born for the living by their dearly departed.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Tortoise & the Hare

I just made up this genius quote while at work:

"Slow and Steady may not always win the race, but he certainly enjoys the scenery more."

BAM! Genius!

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Too Much Good Stuff

Perhaps you may have noticed the frequency of my blogging coincides exactly with my physical and emotional health. Sad me = lots of blogging, poetry writing, picture taking. Happy me = very little creative output. I suppose you can put that all down to "tortured artist" effect. (As an aside, I can NEVER remember whether to use affect or effect, despite countless drills and useless memory tricks.) You will note that this is a happy spell for me. Life is pretty excellent. I'm planning a trip to Florida for a week to visit my sister. My brother just had a birthday, then two days later, my sister had her birthday, THEN two days after that my niece was born. I wish my life could just loop in the month of March for awhile. It tends to be one of my happiest months. Not to mention I'm on very effective medication right now, so no tummy troubles to speak of. The weather is excellent. I just got a hammock for the sweet price of free. My animals are living in harmony. I'm going to school. Working. Managing to still have fun.
I've been writing since elementary school and the opportunity to look back on years of life records via written word is sort of enchanting. Sadly, I have lost most of the journals I kept when I was really young, but since high school I started keeping better track of the writing. I have always had dry spells, and I'm sure it was during times in my life of great happiness. It gets me to thinking I'm really cheating myself out of some excellent memories by only recording the bad stuff. Which ALSO gets me thinking, I'm more the type of person who will remember when a wrong has been done to me than a right. I'll be attempting to put forth a more conscious effort to display the whole shabang going forward. I can't promise there'll be more poems that make you feel all glittery afterward, pictures of flowers or fuzzy kittens, but at least a bare bones effort to let ya know I'm still thriving. Hooray for good times!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

1/4 Century and Counting

Yesterday was my brother's birthday. I remember all the love and war we went through as little tykes together. Now he's a quarter of a century old. Man the time does fly. My brother is one of my best friends in the world, and I can't think of anyone else I would be as happy to grow up with. Happy birthday, baby brother. I love you!

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Hair Spiders

I never realized how personal the subject of grooming can be until I sat down for this post. Richard and I have two different bathrooms in our house, and since we're the only occupants I have claimed the hall bathroom as my own. His bathroom is pretty much uncharted territory for me. However, a few months back, there was a problem with the water pressure in my shower, so I used his. My shower has a little removable drain for trapping wayward hair that I clean out after every shower. Since Richard's shower didn't have one, and I didn't think to extract mine before I used his shower, I became a watery hair trapper of the first order. I would not let his drain be troubled with hair! It was my duty as a guest showerer! So throughout the process of hair washing I would do a little trick I like to call "the palm roll" where I'd take hair in my palm and roll it around until it became a tight little hair ball. During said shower, I generated two small hair balls that I sat to the side, beside the bathtub plug, to pick up once the shower was over. Only I didn't pick them up. I completely forgot about them and went on my merry way.


On Monday evening I came home to a very frazzled Richard. He was giving me a list of complaints about his face, shoulder, arm and knee being in pain.
"What happened?" I inquired.
"Well, I was taking a shower and went to move the bathtub plug and I saw these two spiders underneath of it. One of them jumped toward me when I picked up the drain, so I tried to get to the other end of the shower to get away. Except I couldn't because one of them was still attached to the drain plug that was in my hand, so I dropped it and tried to get out of the shower and I slipped and fell and hurt myself." He paused for a moment to give me a hard stare. "You know what I realized then?"
Now, the moment he mentioned the bathtub plug, I began trying to wrestle with concealing my laughter and simultaneous concern as the cold hand of guilt slithered up my spine.
"What did you realize?" I said, hardly able to hold down a booming laugh.
"I realized they weren't spiders at all. They were your hair. I WAS TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM YOUR HAIR SPIDERS AND I SLIPPED AND FELL IN THE BATHTUB!"
As you may imagine, tears of laughter ensued.

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Man, the Myth, the Muppet

I recently discovered a show from the 80's on Netflix called Jim Henson's The Story Teller. (You may remember Jim Henson from his part in The Muppets. Hooray for The Muppets!) The idea behind the show is that a character sits around his old fireplace and tells his dog stories based on popular myths and legends. It really brought to mind that the art of storytelling is dead. Certainly Western culture has whipped up a replacement with television, movies, radio and internet, but gone are the days when a man or woman can sit around and rhythmically weave a story to an entranced audience. Media has created an outlet that shapes our minds to think in tiny fragments rather than to be immersed in a hypnotic tale. They slap in a massive speckling of commercials and advertisements to keep our mind racing and sucking in information, but never interacting or using our own minds in turn. Mushy minds are made of those societies without story tellers, my own mind included. I just find this topic sad and thought provoking. Where have all the story tellers gone?

Friday, February 18, 2011


So my house was built in the '80's with the idea of some family eventually putting in a pool some day. While the pool was never built, we still have a bathroom that has a glass sliding door directly to the backyard. This would make perfect sense, and even be wise, if we had a pool. But, alas, we do not. So in the spirit of ghetto fabulous-ness, we decided to paint the sliding glass door the same color as the house. This kept the world out of our bathroom-business.
Richard and I: 1
Smart ass house builders: 0

In time the paint has developed a few pin-prick sized holes in it which allow tiny rays of light to enter the bathroom. One day I was inspired to bring in my camera, set the shutter speed to "painfully slow" and wobble about with the camera for a bit. This was the result:

Thursday, February 10, 2011

On Camels and Straws

I saw this little gem on an employee warning notice recently:

"This was the camel that broke the final straw."

I laughed a good, hard laugh. It still sneaks up on me unexpectedly in times of solitude and draws forth much creepy alone-time laughter.

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Scent of A Lady Bug

Since I live in a tiny triangle (Home --> Work --> School. Repeat.), Richard is my main source of entertainment. What's great about him is the fact that he is always getting himself into peculiar situations.
A few months back, he was going to do a cabinet installation in a gated community. The guard at the gate came out and asked him the usual questions, and just before he let him in Richard nonchalantly stated "Wow, it really smells like lady bugs out here."
The guard looked at him with unease. "You must have seen that landscaping truck come by hauling those sacks of lady bugs. He was just here about 10 minutes ago. No one can smell lady bugs" replied the guard.
"Oh really? I didn't see any landscaping truck."
"Yep, full of lady bugs."
"Wow. That's weird. Haha." (Awkward pause.) "Well, see ya later..."
Richard called me shortly thereafter and expressed his shock that the fellow didn't know what a lady bug smelled like. Naturally, the scent given off by lady bugs was completely foreign to me. In his own words, they smell "like a walnut that's a little extra bitter when you crack into it and eat it," and also "dark and waxy."
Yeah, just try farting around a guy that can bloodhound the scent of a ladybug.