Sunday, December 30, 2012

Scottish Carols Are Everybody's Favorite

With the year's end quickly approaching, I'm tempted to look inside myself and identify areas that I strive to improve in 2013. That sounds hard. Instead I'll think about changes that other people should make.

--Lindsay Lohan: Get it together. Cool it on the coke, get a job at a bank or something, and start paying your rent. Everybody else lives in the real world. It's not that hard.

--Everyone: Stop using the word "literally" when you actually mean the exact opposite. It drives me figuratively crazy.

--Also Everyone: Speaking of grammar, the word "your" is a pronoun indicating possession. "You're" is a contraction of the words "you" and "are." It's a noticeable distinction. Stop ignoring it.

--Guy at Work: Back off the cologne a little. Let's say eight sprays per day is enough.

--Racists: Give it a rest already.

--Homophobes: Give it a rest already.

--Charities: Send me less mail. The amount of money you've spent on postage sending me all your pleas for more donations has definitely exceeded the amount of any actual donations I've made to you.

--Prince William: You are rich and have access to the most advanced medical care in the world. Do something about your hairline.

"Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right." -Queen Oprah

That is all. Until next year.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Are You Sure It's the Thought That Counts?

I worked in the jewelry department at Macy's for a little while after college. I actually really liked it since I spent most of my time there trying on the diamonds. (I also got a fantastic discount.)

One day my manager, Katie, told me she'd be attending a destination wedding and would need to be gone for a week. She asked me to help out with a few things while she was away, like time sheets and inventory counts. Those things only took about twenty minutes, so I happily obliged.

When she returned from her vacation, Katie pulled me aside. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me out while I was gone," she said. "I got you this gift card for Target."

"Aw, Katie. You didn't have to do that," I said because that is what people say to be nice.

But you know what her response was?

"Okay. I'll keep it."

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought Minnesota etiquette dictated that you always decline things the first time they're offered to you. Then the other person insists, and you graciously accept, but only after you make sure it's not too much trouble.

Katie totally blew right past all that. I was shocked. And a little bit sad because I really wanted that gift card.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Deer Santa...

Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

The Illest Christmas Presents Ever!

It's better to give than blah blah blah... I have never met a person who doesn't love to get presents. Now that I think about it, opening presents is one of my top ten favorite things to do. These are some of the awesome-est presents I can remember getting.

--Etch A Sketch - I was probably about six when I got my Etch A Sketch. I still have it, and I still pull it out from time to time. And I am really good at it. Like, really good. I would probably consider Etch A Sketch my biggest talent. (I am equal parts proud and embarrassed of that statement. But I suppose it's good to recognize our strengths.)

--PeeWee's Playhouse shirts - We used to watch that show every Saturday morning, so we thought those shirts were pretty sweet. Amy's had the flowers from the window ledge that introduced the cartoons. Mine had Chairry, PeeWee's big blue chair. Stylin'.

--Hungry Hungry Hippos - My sister and I loved this game when we were little. We played it all. the. time. But then, all of a sudden, it was gone one day. Like it had totally vanished. And we were devestated. Mom recently confessed that she had gotten rid of it when we weren't looking because she was so sick of the noise. Which is understandable since Hungry Hungry Hippos is the loudest game in the world.

--A Phone for My Room - I got a cordless phone for my room when I was in junior high and it was super sweet. It came in ultra-modern black and had a sleek design roughly the size of an adult man's tennis shoe. A few years later, my sister would jack me in the face with that phone during one of our more vicious fights.

--My Little Pony - I loved the My Little Pony I got when I was little. Except I see that they've updated the design a bit. Mine had pink plastic gemstones for the eyes, which made my pony look slightly demonic when the light hit them just right. I also lost the accompanying brush almost immediately, so I used my mom's brush instead. I wonder if she was ever confused by the bright teal horse-mane hairs that I'm sure were left behind.

I wish I still got awesome-ass presents like a little kid.  Last year for Christmas, I asked my mom for new mixing bowls. Mixing bowls! What the fuck happened to me? Eight-year-old Marie would be disgusted.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Children's Medical Advice is Almost Always Useless

Down the street from my grandma's house is Water Tank Hill, the best hill for sledding ever. We spent the majority of every Christmas break on that hill. When I was nine, I spent one fateful day there with my sister, Amy, and our cousin, Mary. Amy and I had just gotten Sno-Tubes for Christmas and we were quickly discovering how awesome they were.

After several trips down the hill, I once again started the trek back to the top. I was finding it easier if I rested the tube on my head and held on to the handles on each side. And probably just as I was congratulating myself on my ingenuity, I slipped on a patch of ice. And because I was holding the stupid tube above my head, I wasn't able to put my hands down in time to break my fall. I fell hard, face first, onto the icy snow, which was turning red with my blood.

I stumbled back to my feet, bawling from the surprise and the pain, and immediately started walking back to Grandma's house. Amy and Mary caught up with me. They didn't want me to go. If I did, then they would probably have to leave, too. And then everyone's fun would be ruined. Instead, Mary suggested I just put some snow on it. You're supposed to ice on your injuries, she reasoned, and snow is basically the same thing. Plus, if I pushed hard enough, it would also stop the bleeding. It sounded logical, so I gave it a shot. And it did neither of those things.

So I ended up going home to Grandma's anyway. And that's where I found out that I had bitten through my bottom lip. Like, my teeth cut a good-sized hole in my face. Weird that the handful of old, dirty snow didn't clear that up. Maybe if I had used two handfuls.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Holiday Graffiti

This is on a building near my home and it is my favorite:

True Statement

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Turns Out I Can Leap Tall Buildings in a Single Bound

Today's weather reminds me of the snowstorm we got a couple years ago. That morning we woke up to about eight inches of snow, with another twelve to fourteen expected by the end of the day. Since we knew we'd be stuck in the house all day, the boyfriend and I decided to venture out for supplies (pizza and vodka). We were lucky we left when we did. Even though it was only noon, the market (and almost all the other businesses in the neighborhood) was closing due to the weather.

When we got back, we brushed the snow off of ourselves, looking forward to warming up on the couch with a toddy and some blankets. One problem: we had accidentally locked ourselves out of the condo. There we stood with our groceries and no place to go. The roads were treacherous and everything (including locksmiths) was closed. We were screwed.

We couldn't just spend the day in our hallway. One of us was going to have to do something. Since the boyfriend is afraid of heights, I knew it had to be me. I knocked on our neighbor's door and asked if I could borrow her balcony. Then, in the middle of a blizzard, I climbed on top of her railing, took a deep breath, and hopped over to our balcony.

This is what I saw when I looked down:

Six stories. Eek.

And yes, I looked down. And I totally pictured myself bouncing like a ping pong ball between the balconies all the way down. I just kept telling myself it was like being on MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge. And made sure I ignored the part about how those people wear harnesses and usually compete over water instead of concrete and metal.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

...And No One Can Talk to a Horse, Of Course

A few years ago, my friend Jess and I took riding lessons at a stable outside of town. We spent the first few sessions in an enclosed arena just going over the basics. Jess was a natural since she had a horse when she was a kid. I started out a little shakier because I never had a horse. But I got the hang of it soon enough.

On about our third lesson, we rode outside down a gravel road. Everything was going according to plan when all of a sudden, my horse freaked out and took off back toward the barn. I tried desperately to regain control with the reigns, but he was not having any of it. In all reality, it was probably little more than a trot, but I was bouncing all over the place, barely managing to stay upright. It was terrifying. I actually remember thinking, "I can't believe this is how I die. Ridiculous."

As we neared the stable, my horse slowed down just a little. It was my chance to finally get the fucker to stop. I dropped one reign and used both hands to pull hard on one side. That jerked the horse's head back, forcing him to stop.

Jess rode up in a hurry behind me. "Oh my God, Marie!" she gasped. "Are you okay?!" Before I could answer, she added, "Your hair looked really pretty.  Like a Pantene commercial."

Thanks Jess.

Also, remember when I mentioned how my dad's a fairly interesting guy? Well, he has a runaway horse story, too. Except he ended up falling off of his horse. And his foot got caught in the stirrup. And he got dragged for a little while.

I obviously come from a long line of equestrians.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

I Might Be the Cause of Global Warming

I have a confession to make: I only use bath towels once before putting them in the laundry. Sometimes I even use two towels for a single shower so that I have a dry one for my hair. And I have always thought this was completely normal. But I've learned recently, through a couple of obviously riveting conversations, that most people use the same towel at least twice.

Those conversations mostly ended in a mutual sense of surprise (and maybe a little bit of disgust). I was surprised that perfectly normal-looking people are willing to rub all kinds of microbes, old skin cells, and whatever else comes off their bodies, right back onto their freshly cleaned skin. And people were usually shocked to hear that I'm willing to do that much laundry.

They have a totally legitimate point. Which is why I have seventeen towels on the shelves. For two people. And I feel kinda bad about that. Because I recognize it's wasteful, but I honestly don't intend to stop.

But my Christmas lights are solar powered, so it balances out, right?

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Avian History X

One time a little bird flew smack into our window and fell onto the balcony. It laid there for a while, so I figured it was dead. But when I went out to pick it up, it looked like it was still trying to breathe a little. It was so sad.

I wasn't really sure what you're supposed to do in that situation. The boyfriend thought I should leave it alone. But I felt bad just leaving it there in pain while I watched it die through the window. I had to do something. My suggestion was that I should put it out of its misery by taking it downstairs and just giving one quick, very unpleasant, stomp.

This horrified the boyfriend. (I think maybe because he grew up in a city.) We compromised by going out to run some errands. If the bird was still suffering when we returned, then I would play Dr. Kevorkian.

When we got back I checked the balcony. The bird was gone. It seems I was about to curb stomp a little bird who was just a little bit dazed. And maybe had a headache.

Perhaps life and death decisions should not be left to me in the future.

P.S. This:

I have a complicated relationship with birds.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Thankful Thinking - Part Four

There are some people whose contributions to the world are so great that I can't imagine life without them. I would like to thank these people for their wonderful ideas.

--Johannes Gutenberg - His method of movable type printing made books available to the masses. I'm sure he had something like the 50 Shades of Grey series in mind at the time.

--Al Gore - From what I understand, he invented the Internet. So that's good.

--Heinz Hankammer - Creator of Brita water filters. I think water tastes really gross, but it's proven necessary for staying alive. Hankammer's invention makes it easier for me to do that. So that's good too.

--Tina Fey - Lines from 30 Rock have comprised roughly 15% of my vocabulary for the past few years.

--T. L. Williams - In an attempt to help his sister, Maybel, get a man, Williams invented mascara. (Fun fact: He started selling his product as Maybelline.) And F diamonds. Everyone knows mascara is a girl's real best friend.

So, you know, thanks guys.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Caution: Road Wet During Rain

There is a small, four space parking lot in front of my building. There is also a waist high light that marks the edge of the parking lot where the lawn and sidewalk start.

People are constantly hitting that light with their cars. The building manager's solution to this problem? Place a little blue reflector a few inches from the light. You know, to signal the presence of the bright, shining light nearby.

Strangely, it doesn't seem to be helping. Maybe he should add a small sign that reads, "Caution: There is a light right here." That would probably do it.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Thankful Thinking - Part Three

I am thankful that I get to live in Minneapolis. I really like this city. Here are some of the best parts:

--First Avenue - Best shows in town. I have had so many great nights there.

--Chino Latino - Best mojitos in town. Their bathrooms are also really clean, which is good when you've had too many mojitos.

--Sebastian Joe's - Best ice cream in town. Luckily, the closest location is 2.3 miles from my house. Any closer and I would definitely have diabetes by now.

--Saffron - Best hummus in town. They also do amazing things with gin there.

--Bar La Grassa - Best date night in town. It's really easy to spend three hours there without even realizing it. (Of course, having a handsome date doesn't hurt.)

I heart where I live.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Truck Stop Sign Language

I spent the day I got my driver's license driving all over the county with my friends, Jess and Megan. One of the places we stopped was the truck stop in the next town over. (I know. But our options for entertainment were limited.) While we waited at our table for the waitress, one of us suggested that we pretend Megan was deaf. It was agreed that this would be awesome and the most hilarious trickery ever. (Again, our options for entertainment were limited.)

When she arrived, Jess and I gave our orders to the waitress, then looked to Megan who was gesturing wildly across the table. She flailed her arms around and I think pointed at her belly a couple of times before she started jabbing at the menu. We nodded, as seriously as we could, and translated her order. To add credibility to the ruse, Megan signed "thank you" whenever the waitress returned to our table.

This table reserved for the talent
Amazingly, Jess and I managed to keep a mostly straight face almost the whole time. Unfortunately, I don't think any of us remembered that we probably should have also used sign language when we were talking to Megan.  But I'm pretty sure everyone still bought it.  Megan was a very convincing actress.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Thankful Thinking - Part Two

I really enjoy drinking, but I am just so bad at it. Fortunately, there are a handful of people who are really good at "Drunk Marie." I cannot tell you how thankful I am that they are in my life.

--My sweet friend, Megan, will always cover you up with a towel when you pass out; whether you're on your friend's front lawn or the bathroom floor of a mansion in Savannah. That also happens to be the extent of her motherly instincts.

--Jess, my bestie since seventh grade, is a champion of throwing up. She will never tease you for getting sick. Bonus: As a nurse she is totally desensitized to gross stuff, so she will always hold your hair for you.

--My old coworker and drinking buddy, Laure, thinks everything is a good idea after she's had a couple of cocktails. She will never talk you out of anything and is the perfect accomplice for committing petty crimes.

--Amy, the twin sister, always makes sure you have something to eat before bed. And it is almost always nachos or Doritos.

I hope everyone is lucky enough to have friends like these.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

You Win This Round, Hobo

So I have beef with the homeless guy who lives in my neighborhood.  (That sound ridiculous, I know.  A homeless guy who lives in my neighborhood.  Squats, maybe?  I don't know.)

Anyway, it all started one day when I walked by him on the sidewalk.  To be friendly, I smiled and said, "hello."  Even though he was looking right at me, he totally stonewalled me.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt and figured he probably just didn't hear me.

The second time I walked past him, I gave a smile and a little wave.  Again, nothing.  Now I started getting pissed.  Here I was trying to be nice, and this guy was just completely freezing me out.  I decided right then and there that I would not rest until I could show that fucker how friendly I was and finally get him to acknowledge me.

The next time I walked by, I pulled out all the stops.  I bobbed my head a little to make sure we had eye contact, I gave another little wave and said, "hi."  And he didn't even twitch.  Just glared at me.  In fact, I think he gave me the stink eye a little bit.

I know, right?!

It's on, bitch.  I may not have all the details worked out yet.  Or any of them.  But I will best you, old man, and you will rue the day.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Thankful Thinking - Part One

I'm your typical American - mostly discontent and ungrateful, with a strong sense of entitlement.  But in the spirit of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I've decided to spend a little more time thinking about the things for which I am truly thankful.

This week, I am truly grateful for breakfast cereal.  Well, certain kinds of breakfast cereal.  Specifically these:

Golden Grahams  -  Can't go wrong with a classic.
Captain Crunch  -  And you can forget about those fancy-ass Crunch Berries and Peanut Butter.  I'm a purist.
Coco Wheats  -  Good for winter.  Best when served with a little cream and about half a cup of sugar added to each bowl.
Cracklin' Oat Bran  -  There's no cartoon on the box, so I feel like a grown up who totally has her shit together when I buy this.
Pebbles  -  Both Fruity and Cocoa.  I love all the Pebbles.

I thank you, my little sugar coated, whole grain friends.
I find it's best to keep as much cereal in your house as possible.  That way, when you run out of all your other food, you can just pick up some milk at the gas station.  Then you don't have to go grocery shopping for at least another week and a half.  Everybody else hates the grocery store too, right?

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Second Best Halloween Costume Ever

For Halloween this year I dressed as the 2nd amendment.  Sort of.

I defend my right to bear arms.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Let's All Just Agree It's the Worst Thing Ever

Fall is my favorite time of year, but it has one major flaw.  Every October a metric shit load of candy corn crawls forth from the bowels of Hell to infect every desk, counter, and coffee table like an evil, high fructose plague.  Have you ever heard somebody say, "Candy corn is my favorite!"?  No.  Because candy corn is disgusting.  It is an embarrassment to both candy and corn.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

If I Ever Have a Child, You Should Probably Contact the State

A lot of my friends have babies.  This amazes me.  I am so not ready to be responsible for keeping another human being alive.


--     I recently found an unexplained shard of glass in my underwear drawer.
--     I've lived in my home for three years.  The front door is currently on its fourth lock.
--     I had a key to the mailbox for exactly one week after we bought the place.  Then I lost it forever.
--     I often can't remember if I actually already fed the dog or just thought about doing it.
--     The last time I cleaned my car, I found a champagne glass, an unidentified pill, and a kitchen knife.

I will not be offended if you never ask me to babysit.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

I'm a Pro at First Impressions

I once got to meet Joshua James.  He's the lead singer of a band I like, which is also called - wait for it - Joshua James.  (You might have heard of them if you watch Sons of Anarchy.)  Given the redundant nomenclature, you would think there is no way I could have messed it up.  Well, you'd be wrong, my friend.  You would be wrong.

I stuck my hand out with all sorts of confidence (you know, to show how cool I was with the situation) and said, "Hi.  I'm Marie.  What's your name?"  And then immediately wished I didn't have the ability to speak.

He replied with a very awkward, "Um...  Joshua...  Joshua James...  You know, the guy you came and paid money to watch tonight.  My name's on your ticket.  And my face is on the last album cover.  Oh, and those posters by the door.  And I think someone has a table set up with some fliers, and t-shirts, and stuff."

Thankfully, he is very kind and didn't say any of that last part out loud.  But it was fairly obvious I wasn't the only one who thought it and judged me a little bit.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

No Means No

I hate Dr. Seuss's Green Eggs and Ham.  I think it's sending the wrong message to our youth.

Hey, do you like green eggs and ham?

Are you sure you don't like them?
Yeah, I've just never really cared for them.

What if you ate them while you were inside a house?
Well, I think I was inside a house the last time I tried them.  

What if the lights were off?
I don't think that would matter much.  I just don't like that meal.  It might be a texture thing.

What if you were in a car, or a tree, or a box for some reason?
Again, the setting is irrelevant.  It's the food itself that I don't like.  Why are you pushing the issue?

What if you were with a goat?
Wait, a goat?  Why would there be a goat?  And why would the presence of a farm animal have an effect on my brakfast preferences?

My body, my choice.
What if you were--
Listen, Seuss.  Your behavior here today has been inappropriate, and some might even say bordering on harassment.

Monday, October 15, 2012

A Plague On Both Your Houses!

My sister, Amy, is f-ing hilarious.  And it's usually not even on purpose.  Which only makes her funnier.  Perfect example:  She moved out of my parents' house because she was convinced it was haunted.  Seriously.

At nineteen, she started hearing a ghost at night - a howling noise that she said echoed all through the house.  She was dead serious and totally terrified.  Because we're family, the rest of us mostly just teased her about it mercilessly.

She lasted about two weeks.  Then one morning our dad heard the noise, exactly as Amy had described it.  And he couldn't really think of an explanation either.  (Though he did not immediately make the leap to ghost.)  And that was enough for Amy.  She packed her things and left.

A few weeks later, Mom heard the ghost.  Only she saw it, too.  And of course it wasn't a ghost at all.  It was our twelve pound Pomeranian howling in his sleep.  That's right, my sister was driven out of her home by scary little puppy dreams.

A few months into life at her new house, she also heard a ghost play the guitar.  For real.  Ask her about it sometime.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Curiosity Made the Cat Flash Her Boobs to the Class; Updated

When I was a senior in college, I took a class called Wilderness Survival Skills with my roommate, John.  The first day of class was held at a lake outside of town where we spent the day tipping over canoes to practice rescues.  After class I needed to change out of my soaking wet clothes, but the only bathroom was a cinder block shack with no door and no roof.  I decided not to set foot inside for fear of tripping over a dead hooker and falling onto a pile of used syringes.  Instead, I waited for everyone else to leave so I could just change outside of John's truck, where I was far less likely to contract hepatitis.

I got my jeans changed and everything was going according to plan as I peeled off my wet shirt and bra.  And then it happened.  John, standing watch at the back of his truck, shouted "Oh, shit!"  Naturally, I turned around to see just what John was "oh shitting" about.   The shuttle van that was carrying about 70% of the class was pulling back into the parking lot.

For a second or two, I stood frozen like a deer in headlights.  A deer who was butt-ass naked from the waist up.  I finally snapped out of it and scrambled to cover myself.  I grabbed my dry t-shirt from the truck and threw it over my head.  But because I was both wet and stupid with panic, I got stuck.  In my t-shirt.  So there I was bending and lurching as I tried to wriggle my shirt over my face.  It was not at all graceful, and I'm sure my boobs were flopping around in the least attractive flesh ballet of all time.

On the drive back to town, I tried to convince myself that this was not grounds for suicide.  "There's a chance they didn't even notice me, right?"

John, who is always terribly honest, told me the truth.  "No, they stopped to watch."

Moral of the story?  Flashing a large group of people won't always make you as popular as you might expect.

*Update:  Apparently it's necessary to confirm that this is, unfortunately, a true story.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Maybe Too Much Dexter?

There's an exhibit at the Science Museum of MN that shows you how much blood is in your body.  You step on a scale and enter some information like height and gender and what not.  Then a glass cylinder in front of you fills up with the estimated amount of blood in your body.

I tried it out when I was there last year.

My first thought:  Huh.  That's less than I would have thought.  I could totally clean that up by myself if I had to.

My second thought:  Shit.  Does that make me a serial killer?

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Look, Mommy. There's a Murder Up in the Sky.

Words are weird and I love them.  Like how a group of crows is called a murder.  As in, "A murder of crows just crapped all over my car."

A murder!  And it's just because an old lady said so.

In the 15th century, Dame Juliana Bernes ran an English nunnery called St. Albans.  While there, she wrote a book called The Book of Saint Albans.  (I know.  Clever girl, right?)  Anyway, in this book Ms. Bernes published a list of what she deemed the "proper" collective nouns for referring to any group of animals.

Because this was, like, 600 years ago, most of her suggestions have disappeared from our language.  But some of them have stuck around.  And that's why we have prides of lions, gaggles of geese, strings of ponies, and murders of crows.

And I already know what you're thinking.  Yes, I was totally popular in high school.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Kirby the Kidnapper

When my sister, Amy, and I were seven or eight, we went through a phase where we were convinced that we were going to be kidnapped.  Our parents tried to talk us out of it, but we knew it was just a matter of time before a stranger came to abduct one or both of us.

One day the two of us were walking to the grocery store down the street.  On the way, a car pulled to the curb a few feet ahead of us.  A man stepped out and walked toward us.  This was it.  Standing before us was the man who was going to take us away from our parents, our home, and our sweet scrunchy-making machine.

We screamed, and cried, and dashed to the front door of the nearest house.  We threw our fists against the door.  "Help!  Someone help us!" we pleaded.  There was no need to look back, I could feel our abductor advancing upon us.  We kept pounding against the door, but it was becoming clear that no adult was going to swoop in to save us this time.

We ducked around the corner to the alley behind the house.  I'm not sure if or how long the man chased us, but we ran for our lives back home, into our bedroom, and threw the covers over our heads.  We couldn't believe that we had looked into the face of evil and managed to survive.

Later that evening, we heard the doorbell ring.  People coming to the front door and ringing the doorbell was rare at our house.  We're from a small town and we knew everyone who came to our house.  And they came in through the side door in the kitchen.  And usually without knocking.

We crept down to investigate.  And there he stood.  The kidnapper was at our door, talking to our parents.  Jesus Christ, it wasn't over.  We thought we had escaped, but our abductor had managed find us and was back to take us away.

Somehow our parents were able to drive him away.  "Who was he?  What did he say to you?" we asked when he was gone.

"The Kirby Vacuum salesman."

Amy and me.  Lucky to have lived into adulthood.
"Fuuuuuck," we groaned (or whatever the childhood equivalent of that word is).  Turns out our evil kidnapper was just a door-to-door salesman, probably trying to ask us for directions.  And our natural reaction was to cry and scream in his face, then run away as fast as we could.  And that shit is embarrassing, even when you're seven.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Dos Equis Does Not Have the Market Cornered

Here are some additional contenders for the most interesting person in the world:

--Abraham Lincoln
Freed the slaves, devastatingly handsome

--The blind girl from college
Walked around campus with blind people accessories (stick, sunglasses, messy hair), but shopped alone at the mall; clearly up to something 

--My dad
Used to be a commercial crab fisherman in Alaska, accidentally lived in Hawaii one summer, buried the same dead dog twice

--Vincent van Gogh
Good with a paintbrush, amputated own ear as gift to a prostitute, obvious romantic

Monday, October 1, 2012

I'm Dead in Dog Years

When I am walking my dog, people often stop to ask me if they can pet him.  I like to get a really serious look on my face and say, "I wouldn't."

Sometimes it's fun to lie to strangers.

You don't want to fuck with this.