So about a month ago, one of my coworkers came up to me and said, "I have something for you!"
Let me preface this story by first telling you that I am not particularly close with any of my coworkers, and that the thought of one of them having something other than more work for me to do would never cross my mind. We don't share a cubicle, we're not in particularly close quarters, so it's not like any of them would have any idea of my hobbies or favorite foods, or really ANYTHING at all about my life. So excuse me if I don't get absolutely thrilled when one of them comes running up to me saying, "I have something for you!"
But anyway, this happened. So I look over at her, and I muster up enough fake enthusiasm to say, "Whatcha got there?" And she says, "It's a Book On Tape! It's great! And it's for you!"
I'd like to point out that I have NEVER listened to a Book On Tape, nor have I EVER had the desire to do so. I like to listen to music while driving, that's just the way it is. I have made my throat sore many a time by belting out No Doubt, Lady Gaga, Alanis Morrissette, and the Bee Gees while driving down the road. Yeah, I said it. Bee Gees.
So I look at her and say, "Oh wow... thanks." I didn't have the heart to tell her that I couldn't be less interested in something she obviously enjoyed very much. So I asked her what the book was about, and she proceeded to tell me that it was called The Lovely Bones. It's based in the 70's about a young girl that gets killed in the Chester County area. The premise is the events surrounding her death, and the years after her death. She tells the story from Heaven. They apparantly had just made a movie about it, but I hadn't seen it since I'm a boring ass loser face.
I accepted the Book On Tape (which was actually on CD, not tape), and left work for the day and put it in my car. I wasn't quite sure how to proceed from here. Should I just tell her that I listened to it when I didn't? What if she asked me questions about it, or wanted to discuss it like we were in a book club or some crap? How would I fake it? Could I get cliff notes? Or should I just suck it up and listen to the damn thing, regardless of my disinterest?
I thought about it for 2 days. Everywhere I traveled I took the Book On Tape with me, but didn't listen to it. It was 10 discs! How could I commit to something like that? I can barely commit to give my time to the things I already do, like go to the gym, hang out with friends, make that outstanding dinner I keep telling myself I can make. But then as I thought about it some more, I realized that if I really wanted to, I could listen to it on my drive from work to my boyfriends house. I do this drive about 4 days a week, and it takes me about an hour to get there, and then when I leave there it's 40 minutes back home. That's if I REALLY wanted to.
So I did it. I put in disc one and prepared to be taken over by the Book On Tape everytime I got into the car. And you know what? I loved it. I loved the story, and I loved the narrator. It took an obnoxiously long time for me to get through the whole 10 discs, but I did take a break from the Book On Tape every few days or so just to refresh myself with some musical entertainment.
I think it's a nice alternative if you don't have time to actually sit down with a nice hardback book (I prefer hardbacks to paperbacks for some reason). Of course, nothing will ever replace the idea of reading a book and seeing the characters in your own light, and letting you imagine how they would act or sound. But if you don't have the time for good old fashioned reading, give it a try. It's your classic case of trying something new, for the sake of trying something new. Or because you didn't have the guts to say no to your pushy coworker.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Love Muffin
I can't believe it's been a whole year since I've last written a blog. How is that possible when I have so much to say? Today I would like to discuss everyone's favorite (or not) four letter word: love.
Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. "Another blog about love, Gretchen?" Yes, my friends. I have learned a lot about this topic over the last few years, and I'd like to share this semi-new knowledge with you.
I want people to know that love doesn't show up on a white horse on Valentine's Day holding a bouquet of red roses. I mean, it CAN, but usually it doesn't. It shows up in smaller, less flashy ways. Sometimes it shows up in the form of a smile, or a slow dance, and sometimes it even takes the form of a delicious home-made breakfast muffin. There are many subtle ways that love can manifest itself in, and sometimes you just have to open your eyes to see it.
There are many different types of love. There is a kind of love that hits you automatically, like a freight train. There is best friend love, there is family love, there is snuggle-with-me-at-3 am love. There is unspoken love, and there is shout-it-from-the-rooftops love.
I love my family, not just because I'm stuck with them, but because they are awesome people. I love my friends because they are not only loads of fun, but they are also rocks to lean on when I need them most. I love people who are amazingly strong, like my high school sweetheart who is now dealing with cancer. Or like my cousin, who barely knows I exist, who just lost both parents AND her sister. Or people like my boyfriend, who works so hard to better himself every single day. And I love people who follow their dreams, no matter how crazy their dreams may seem to other people.
Be aware, however, that love doesn't always conquer all. Sometimes love itself isn't enough. Sometimes you have to kick love in the ass in order for it to see you.
Why do I feel a little less sunny now than when I started this blog? I guess love will sometimes do that to you.
I love you, my friends! Let's rock the shit out of 2010 together!
Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. "Another blog about love, Gretchen?" Yes, my friends. I have learned a lot about this topic over the last few years, and I'd like to share this semi-new knowledge with you.
I want people to know that love doesn't show up on a white horse on Valentine's Day holding a bouquet of red roses. I mean, it CAN, but usually it doesn't. It shows up in smaller, less flashy ways. Sometimes it shows up in the form of a smile, or a slow dance, and sometimes it even takes the form of a delicious home-made breakfast muffin. There are many subtle ways that love can manifest itself in, and sometimes you just have to open your eyes to see it.
There are many different types of love. There is a kind of love that hits you automatically, like a freight train. There is best friend love, there is family love, there is snuggle-with-me-at-3 am love. There is unspoken love, and there is shout-it-from-the-rooftops love.
I love my family, not just because I'm stuck with them, but because they are awesome people. I love my friends because they are not only loads of fun, but they are also rocks to lean on when I need them most. I love people who are amazingly strong, like my high school sweetheart who is now dealing with cancer. Or like my cousin, who barely knows I exist, who just lost both parents AND her sister. Or people like my boyfriend, who works so hard to better himself every single day. And I love people who follow their dreams, no matter how crazy their dreams may seem to other people.
Be aware, however, that love doesn't always conquer all. Sometimes love itself isn't enough. Sometimes you have to kick love in the ass in order for it to see you.
Why do I feel a little less sunny now than when I started this blog? I guess love will sometimes do that to you.
I love you, my friends! Let's rock the shit out of 2010 together!
Monday, March 2, 2009
It's only my opinion
So today someone said something to me that really irked me, and it's been awhile since I've written a blog..... so basically, listen up, cause here goes.
I was telling someone about my day today, and the truth is, I didn't do very much that was productive or really worth talking about. But I said, "I went out to play in the snow today! I built a snowman!"
So I was talking about building the snowman, and I noticed the silence coming from the other side of the table at the restaurant. I said, "Why are you so quiet?" And the response was, and I quote, "Aren't you a little old to be playing in the snow?"
So here's what I'm asking you, my friends. I am 26 years old. This June will mark my 27th birthday. Am I too old to be playing in the snow? Am I too old to make a snowman, or a snow angel, or have a snowball fight? And if so, at what point did I become too old to enjoy the simple pleasures that I enjoyed as a child?
I'm not married, I have no children. I pay my bills on time like (most) adults do. My priorities are in order. I'm (normally) a hard working adult. I like to have fun in my spare time. If I'm too old to be playing in the snow, what should I be doing instead? Should I be bar hopping from 9pm until 2am like other people my age? Should I be getting picked up by the cops and brought home in the back of a cop car after partying all night like other 20somethings? Or should I be looking at the other side of the coin, and get married and have babies since that's what other people my age are doing?
I just don't think that someone can tell me that I'm too old to play in the snow. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, but I see absolutely nothing wrong with my actions today. The question caught me so off guard at dinner, that I couldn't even come up with a response. When I finally was able to compose my thoughts, I said, "You're only as old as you feel". Am I right, or do you all think I'm crazy, too?
The truth is, if there had been some 5 year olds sledding down a hill at the house next door to me, I would have been over there racing them. I know a lot of times I'll say things in conversation like, "I feel so old!" or "That makes me feel old!" but the truth is, I feel just fine. I'll probably be the crazy 80 year old lady that's going sledding with the neighborhood kids after having both hips replaced following an ice skating injury. If I'm still having fun doing it, why should I stop?
Oh well. I guess I'll go pick out my headstone and write my own eulogy since I'm an old lady now. There's just no time for fun, childish activities when you get to be my age!
I was telling someone about my day today, and the truth is, I didn't do very much that was productive or really worth talking about. But I said, "I went out to play in the snow today! I built a snowman!"
So I was talking about building the snowman, and I noticed the silence coming from the other side of the table at the restaurant. I said, "Why are you so quiet?" And the response was, and I quote, "Aren't you a little old to be playing in the snow?"
So here's what I'm asking you, my friends. I am 26 years old. This June will mark my 27th birthday. Am I too old to be playing in the snow? Am I too old to make a snowman, or a snow angel, or have a snowball fight? And if so, at what point did I become too old to enjoy the simple pleasures that I enjoyed as a child?
I'm not married, I have no children. I pay my bills on time like (most) adults do. My priorities are in order. I'm (normally) a hard working adult. I like to have fun in my spare time. If I'm too old to be playing in the snow, what should I be doing instead? Should I be bar hopping from 9pm until 2am like other people my age? Should I be getting picked up by the cops and brought home in the back of a cop car after partying all night like other 20somethings? Or should I be looking at the other side of the coin, and get married and have babies since that's what other people my age are doing?
I just don't think that someone can tell me that I'm too old to play in the snow. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, but I see absolutely nothing wrong with my actions today. The question caught me so off guard at dinner, that I couldn't even come up with a response. When I finally was able to compose my thoughts, I said, "You're only as old as you feel". Am I right, or do you all think I'm crazy, too?
The truth is, if there had been some 5 year olds sledding down a hill at the house next door to me, I would have been over there racing them. I know a lot of times I'll say things in conversation like, "I feel so old!" or "That makes me feel old!" but the truth is, I feel just fine. I'll probably be the crazy 80 year old lady that's going sledding with the neighborhood kids after having both hips replaced following an ice skating injury. If I'm still having fun doing it, why should I stop?
Oh well. I guess I'll go pick out my headstone and write my own eulogy since I'm an old lady now. There's just no time for fun, childish activities when you get to be my age!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Why does this always happen to me?
So yesterday morning, I woke up bright and early to drive my mom to work since she doesn't have a vehicle right now. We hop in the car and I flip on my Sirius Satellite Radio so I can hear some jams to get me going and wake me up. I turn on my favorite station, The Beat, which features today's best dance/techno/breakbeat music. But instead of hearing one of my favorite songs, or one of my favorite DJ's announcing the latest news in electronic music, I hear a mediocre song that I don't recognize, followed by a DJ that I've never heard before. As it would turn out, Sirius and XM have finally merged, and they got rid of half of the channels from each company. So now, instead of my favorite Sirius channel, The Beat, I now get XM's similar electronic music station, BPM. They also did away with a few of my other favorite stations.
I know it shouldn't be that big of a deal, but I am upset by this. Why is it that all of my favorite things always get discontinued? This always happens to me! As soon as I find something that I thoroughly enjoy, be it a radio station, a drink, or a delicious breakfast sandwich, it always ends up being ripped away from my clutches.
Case in point: Back in the day, I used to dye my hair all different colors, but orange was always my favorite. I had this great color, called Agent Orange, and it was fantastic. It looked excellent on me. And then, one fateful day, it was no longer on the shelves. It had been discontinued. Sure, there were plenty of other colors to choose from, but none quite like that one. I am still mourning the loss of Agent Orange.
Another great example is my favorite unsweetened ice tea. It was the Giant brand, and it was, by far, the most delicious drink to ever hit my lips. Everytime I went to the store, I would buy every carton they had. The one day, I arrived at the store to find that there were no cartons on the shelf. I asked the stock boy when he expected to get some in, and that's when I got the horrible news: It had been discontinued. Sure, they had plenty of sweet tea, and green tea, and even raspberry flavored ice tea, but no unsweetened ice tea. It was a terrible day, and even thinking about it now is upsetting.
And how about the Nintendo Gamecube? I recently pulled my Gamecube out of it's box to hook it back up for some Mario-type entertainment. I thought maybe I'd stroll through Best Buy and pick a new game for it. So I get to Best Buy, walk through the entire video game section, only to find that there is not one Gamecube game to be had. Upon further investigation, I have learned that they no longer make games for the Gamecube, it's now been replaced by this Nintendo Wii thing. What about ME? What about my Gamecube? I don't care if it's an outdated system, it's still my system and I love it, and if I wanna play games on it then I should be able to do so! DAMNIT!
What will be next? I'm afraid to find out. If they ever discontinue Coca Cola, I might as well just dig and hole and crawl in it because that's a world that I do NOT want to live in.
That's my rant for the day.
I know it shouldn't be that big of a deal, but I am upset by this. Why is it that all of my favorite things always get discontinued? This always happens to me! As soon as I find something that I thoroughly enjoy, be it a radio station, a drink, or a delicious breakfast sandwich, it always ends up being ripped away from my clutches.
Case in point: Back in the day, I used to dye my hair all different colors, but orange was always my favorite. I had this great color, called Agent Orange, and it was fantastic. It looked excellent on me. And then, one fateful day, it was no longer on the shelves. It had been discontinued. Sure, there were plenty of other colors to choose from, but none quite like that one. I am still mourning the loss of Agent Orange.
Another great example is my favorite unsweetened ice tea. It was the Giant brand, and it was, by far, the most delicious drink to ever hit my lips. Everytime I went to the store, I would buy every carton they had. The one day, I arrived at the store to find that there were no cartons on the shelf. I asked the stock boy when he expected to get some in, and that's when I got the horrible news: It had been discontinued. Sure, they had plenty of sweet tea, and green tea, and even raspberry flavored ice tea, but no unsweetened ice tea. It was a terrible day, and even thinking about it now is upsetting.
And how about the Nintendo Gamecube? I recently pulled my Gamecube out of it's box to hook it back up for some Mario-type entertainment. I thought maybe I'd stroll through Best Buy and pick a new game for it. So I get to Best Buy, walk through the entire video game section, only to find that there is not one Gamecube game to be had. Upon further investigation, I have learned that they no longer make games for the Gamecube, it's now been replaced by this Nintendo Wii thing. What about ME? What about my Gamecube? I don't care if it's an outdated system, it's still my system and I love it, and if I wanna play games on it then I should be able to do so! DAMNIT!
What will be next? I'm afraid to find out. If they ever discontinue Coca Cola, I might as well just dig and hole and crawl in it because that's a world that I do NOT want to live in.
That's my rant for the day.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Epiphany
I just wanted to say this.
Epiphany: noun. The sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something.
Have you ever had an epiphany? The feeling is amazing. It's not something you schedule, it's not something you see coming. It just sort of happens. It's quite the experience, and coming to a realization can be life changing.
I'm a very happy camper today. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It's hard to describe.... but I am truly happy. The sunshine on my face is amazing, and I'm so glad to have it back.
Now if I could just get rid of this ridiculous cold....
Epiphany: noun. The sudden realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something.
Have you ever had an epiphany? The feeling is amazing. It's not something you schedule, it's not something you see coming. It just sort of happens. It's quite the experience, and coming to a realization can be life changing.
I'm a very happy camper today. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It's hard to describe.... but I am truly happy. The sunshine on my face is amazing, and I'm so glad to have it back.
Now if I could just get rid of this ridiculous cold....
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Pumpkin Patch Incident.
I haven't blogged in a while. I figured it was about time to get back on the horse.
I know I'm more than a little late with this, but I hope everyone had a great summer. Mine was pretty nifty. I took a few nice, relaxing, vacations, caught up with some old friends, made a few new ones. I didn't do a whole lot of working.... it's been really nice.
With that being said, I'm totally diggin' fall.... cooler weather, the holiday season coming up....something about fall just makes me all warm inside. And no, that's not the eggnog talking.
We recently put up some Halloween decorations here at the house, and while I was putting together my magnificent lite-up Wolfman that now sits on my front lawn, my mom and I were reminiscing about Halloweens past, and she told me a story about what she calls "The Pumpkin Patch Incident".
Apparantly I was pretty young, around 5 or 6, and my parents took me to Merrymead Farm to pick out my Halloween pumpkin. What they do there is take little kids on a hayride through the back of the farm, which ultimately ends in a pumpkin patch where kids can pick out their own pumpkin. The parents stay behind and hang out inside the gift shop and sip hot cider, or buy fresh milk, or pet cows, or whatever the hell they wanna do while their kid is gone for a few minutes. The hayride then brings the kids back to their parents, everybody is happy, and then we hold hands and skip all the way home. The only problem is, I didn't come back on my wagon. My mom figured, "Oh, I suppose she'll be in on the next one". Well the next one came and went, as did a third wagon, and still no little Gretchen. She started freaking out. "Where is my daughter?!?! She's lost in the pumpkin patch! Someone stole her!!! She's probably dead!!" My mom is awesome at making a scene.
So finally, in comes the final wagon of the night, and of course I'm on it. I just wanted to make sure I picked the BEST possible pumpkin for daddy to help me carve! What the hell is the big deal?! It takes time and precision to pick out the perfect Halloween pumpkin, I thought everybody knew that! What the SHIT?!?!?!
So, as my mother is telling me this story, she is now screaming at me like this just happened yesterday. "Why did you scare me like that?! Why didn't you stay with your group? You knew we were waiting for you, what took you so long?"
"What took me so long? What.... TOOK me so long?!?! I'll tell ya what took me so long! I was picking out the perfect pumpkin for my Halloween festivities! It had to be the perfect roundness and just the right height! A lot of kids spend too much time in the pumpkin patch! Shit, some are even born there! Oh wait... I'm thinking of the Cabbage Patch Kids... nevermind. Anyway, stop yelling at me YOU CRAZY WOMAN!!!"
Uggghh... it's funny how a little conversation like that can turn into a super stressful evening. Welcome to my world!
Be careful carving your pumpkins this year! Fingers are pretty important to have, please try and keep them all. Thanks bunches.
I know I'm more than a little late with this, but I hope everyone had a great summer. Mine was pretty nifty. I took a few nice, relaxing, vacations, caught up with some old friends, made a few new ones. I didn't do a whole lot of working.... it's been really nice.
With that being said, I'm totally diggin' fall.... cooler weather, the holiday season coming up....something about fall just makes me all warm inside. And no, that's not the eggnog talking.
We recently put up some Halloween decorations here at the house, and while I was putting together my magnificent lite-up Wolfman that now sits on my front lawn, my mom and I were reminiscing about Halloweens past, and she told me a story about what she calls "The Pumpkin Patch Incident".
Apparantly I was pretty young, around 5 or 6, and my parents took me to Merrymead Farm to pick out my Halloween pumpkin. What they do there is take little kids on a hayride through the back of the farm, which ultimately ends in a pumpkin patch where kids can pick out their own pumpkin. The parents stay behind and hang out inside the gift shop and sip hot cider, or buy fresh milk, or pet cows, or whatever the hell they wanna do while their kid is gone for a few minutes. The hayride then brings the kids back to their parents, everybody is happy, and then we hold hands and skip all the way home. The only problem is, I didn't come back on my wagon. My mom figured, "Oh, I suppose she'll be in on the next one". Well the next one came and went, as did a third wagon, and still no little Gretchen. She started freaking out. "Where is my daughter?!?! She's lost in the pumpkin patch! Someone stole her!!! She's probably dead!!" My mom is awesome at making a scene.
So finally, in comes the final wagon of the night, and of course I'm on it. I just wanted to make sure I picked the BEST possible pumpkin for daddy to help me carve! What the hell is the big deal?! It takes time and precision to pick out the perfect Halloween pumpkin, I thought everybody knew that! What the SHIT?!?!?!
So, as my mother is telling me this story, she is now screaming at me like this just happened yesterday. "Why did you scare me like that?! Why didn't you stay with your group? You knew we were waiting for you, what took you so long?"
"What took me so long? What.... TOOK me so long?!?! I'll tell ya what took me so long! I was picking out the perfect pumpkin for my Halloween festivities! It had to be the perfect roundness and just the right height! A lot of kids spend too much time in the pumpkin patch! Shit, some are even born there! Oh wait... I'm thinking of the Cabbage Patch Kids... nevermind. Anyway, stop yelling at me YOU CRAZY WOMAN!!!"
Uggghh... it's funny how a little conversation like that can turn into a super stressful evening. Welcome to my world!
Be careful carving your pumpkins this year! Fingers are pretty important to have, please try and keep them all. Thanks bunches.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Putting the "Fun" in "Funeral".
So today I went to the funeral of my mother's Aunt Nancy. I didn't really know her, the last time I saw her I was about 13 or 14. She led a great life, and she lived to be 79. My second cousin is a priest, and he officiated the funeral. We sang the Ave Maria. I hate the Ave Maria. Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful song... I just can't stand it. It's way too depressing for my taste.
I just want to say that funerals really suck. My great Aunt Nancy's family decided that they would have a viewing, which is probably the worst thing you can do to someone. Why would you want your closest friends and family to look at you after you've died? Everyone knows you're gonna look like crap. No amount of makeup can change the fact that you DO NOT look the same as you did when you were alive. So I've made the first definitive decision regarding my OWN funeral. NO VIEWING. Instead, put up some pictures of me looking absolutely fabulous. And then my friends and family can come through and say, "Wow, she looked absolutely fabulous." I have some pictures on standby, ready to be photoshopped just for the occasion.
Next decision: No churches. If my funeral was held at a church, half of my friends wouldn't be able to come because they would be struck by lightening when walking through the door. I've decided I want my funeral to take place at Phoenix Lanes Bowling Alley. That way, my friends and family can all gather in a place where I always had a great time. Everyone can get drunk and bowl, and it will be a marvelous time. I think that instead of mourning the loss of someone, you should actually celebrate that persons life by doing something they would have enjoyed. Like drinking and bowling... two of my favorite pasttimes.
So, here's how my funeral is looking: Everyone meets at Phoenix Lanes, views pictures of me looking absolutely fabulous, and then my second cousin Father George will bless the lanes that everyone is bowling on. But not with holy water, because that will make the lanes slippery and no one will get strikes. After the lanes are blessed, everyone will go to the bar in the bowling alley and get smashed. It will be a drunken bowling hootananny. Just the way I like it!
And if you simply MUST hear the Ave Maria, ask the DJ at the bowling alley to play a techno remix version.
Of course, if I live to be 99, or something like that, Phoenix Lanes might not still be standing.... I'm banking on the fact that it will still be there.
I hope everyone's week is going better than mine!
I just want to say that funerals really suck. My great Aunt Nancy's family decided that they would have a viewing, which is probably the worst thing you can do to someone. Why would you want your closest friends and family to look at you after you've died? Everyone knows you're gonna look like crap. No amount of makeup can change the fact that you DO NOT look the same as you did when you were alive. So I've made the first definitive decision regarding my OWN funeral. NO VIEWING. Instead, put up some pictures of me looking absolutely fabulous. And then my friends and family can come through and say, "Wow, she looked absolutely fabulous." I have some pictures on standby, ready to be photoshopped just for the occasion.
Next decision: No churches. If my funeral was held at a church, half of my friends wouldn't be able to come because they would be struck by lightening when walking through the door. I've decided I want my funeral to take place at Phoenix Lanes Bowling Alley. That way, my friends and family can all gather in a place where I always had a great time. Everyone can get drunk and bowl, and it will be a marvelous time. I think that instead of mourning the loss of someone, you should actually celebrate that persons life by doing something they would have enjoyed. Like drinking and bowling... two of my favorite pasttimes.
So, here's how my funeral is looking: Everyone meets at Phoenix Lanes, views pictures of me looking absolutely fabulous, and then my second cousin Father George will bless the lanes that everyone is bowling on. But not with holy water, because that will make the lanes slippery and no one will get strikes. After the lanes are blessed, everyone will go to the bar in the bowling alley and get smashed. It will be a drunken bowling hootananny. Just the way I like it!
And if you simply MUST hear the Ave Maria, ask the DJ at the bowling alley to play a techno remix version.
Of course, if I live to be 99, or something like that, Phoenix Lanes might not still be standing.... I'm banking on the fact that it will still be there.
I hope everyone's week is going better than mine!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Mama said there'd be days like this..........
Sweet holy moses, where do I start.
We’ll start at 6 am, when I was awoken by the sound of some commotion taking place in the living room. It was just my dad getting ready for work, but it still woke me out of a sound sleep. Of course, I can’t fall back asleep, so I get out of bed and remind him that I don’t have to be up for another hour, and although my hearing is now very bad, I haven’t been declared legally deaf yet, so please keep it down to a dull roar. Much appreciated.
Since I was up disgustingly early, I decide to get ready for work and leave my house earlier than usual. Apparantly everyone else had the same idea, and I get trapped in this "Traffic Hell" that I can’t seem to escape from. So I’m doing about 2 miles per hour on a one lane road (the same road where the guy almost killed me and ran off with my cell phone - anybody remember that?) and this woman in an SUV decides she wants to go around me on the shoulder and make her own lane. She is trying so carefully not to hit my car, but there is no way in HELL this stupid bitch is going to get around me and create havoc for all the cars in front of me as well. I am just not going to let that happen.
So I beep at her. Her driver’s side door is practically IN my passenger seat, and I am beeping at her. She will not look at me. I am staring her down. And I am laying on the horn. Since she’s practically sitting in my car, I can see the look on her face - she’s scared. She’s scared that I am going to throw a brick through her window. Somehow, she knows me all too well. But I decide against the brick throwing option, and realize I must get her attention in another way. I roll down my passenger window. Her eyes glance over and notice my window going down. This bitch is seriously shaking in her boots.
I start hollering, "Hey! HEY! Bitch! This isn’t a fucking lane, bitch!" She finally looks directly at me. She points to a road up ahead where she would like to make a right. Oh that’s nice, I think to myself. She’s going to create her own "turn" lane and hit a bunch of cars in the process. Eventually she gets to where she wants to go, but she certainly didn’t get there any faster AND she raised my blood pressure higher than necessary. Basically, I spent an hour in the car this morning trying to get to work, which is 7 miles away. BULLSHIT.
Then I get to work, only to find that my esteemed coworkers and peers have an "issue" with me. It’s great to see that my supposed "role models" have no qualms about talking shit on me and figuring it won’t get back to me. Get a clue, bitches: When you speak loud enough, someone will hear it. It always gets back to me. Always. I would think that two-faced chicks would learn this by now.
And P.S.: If you’re gonna talk shit, at least have something worth talking about. Elliott Spitzers call girl is my best friend. I’m casually dating Kevin Federline. I have a home in the Bahamas that I frequent every weekend. And when I’m not working at this 9-5 hellhole, I’m a stripper at Cheerleaders. I’ve had 7 boob jobs and I’m renting Neverland Ranch for my birthday party in June. There you go, bitches... chew on that for a while.
And no, you can’t have my autograph.
To end the fantasticness of the day, I went to Friendly’s with my mom. They had a clown there who was making balloon hats for the little kids. My mom suddenly shouted, "I WANT A BALLOON HAT!" Then she looked at me and said, "If I wore a balloon hat.... would you still be my friend?"
Moms always know how to fix a bad day.
We’ll start at 6 am, when I was awoken by the sound of some commotion taking place in the living room. It was just my dad getting ready for work, but it still woke me out of a sound sleep. Of course, I can’t fall back asleep, so I get out of bed and remind him that I don’t have to be up for another hour, and although my hearing is now very bad, I haven’t been declared legally deaf yet, so please keep it down to a dull roar. Much appreciated.
Since I was up disgustingly early, I decide to get ready for work and leave my house earlier than usual. Apparantly everyone else had the same idea, and I get trapped in this "Traffic Hell" that I can’t seem to escape from. So I’m doing about 2 miles per hour on a one lane road (the same road where the guy almost killed me and ran off with my cell phone - anybody remember that?) and this woman in an SUV decides she wants to go around me on the shoulder and make her own lane. She is trying so carefully not to hit my car, but there is no way in HELL this stupid bitch is going to get around me and create havoc for all the cars in front of me as well. I am just not going to let that happen.
So I beep at her. Her driver’s side door is practically IN my passenger seat, and I am beeping at her. She will not look at me. I am staring her down. And I am laying on the horn. Since she’s practically sitting in my car, I can see the look on her face - she’s scared. She’s scared that I am going to throw a brick through her window. Somehow, she knows me all too well. But I decide against the brick throwing option, and realize I must get her attention in another way. I roll down my passenger window. Her eyes glance over and notice my window going down. This bitch is seriously shaking in her boots.
I start hollering, "Hey! HEY! Bitch! This isn’t a fucking lane, bitch!" She finally looks directly at me. She points to a road up ahead where she would like to make a right. Oh that’s nice, I think to myself. She’s going to create her own "turn" lane and hit a bunch of cars in the process. Eventually she gets to where she wants to go, but she certainly didn’t get there any faster AND she raised my blood pressure higher than necessary. Basically, I spent an hour in the car this morning trying to get to work, which is 7 miles away. BULLSHIT.
Then I get to work, only to find that my esteemed coworkers and peers have an "issue" with me. It’s great to see that my supposed "role models" have no qualms about talking shit on me and figuring it won’t get back to me. Get a clue, bitches: When you speak loud enough, someone will hear it. It always gets back to me. Always. I would think that two-faced chicks would learn this by now.
And P.S.: If you’re gonna talk shit, at least have something worth talking about. Elliott Spitzers call girl is my best friend. I’m casually dating Kevin Federline. I have a home in the Bahamas that I frequent every weekend. And when I’m not working at this 9-5 hellhole, I’m a stripper at Cheerleaders. I’ve had 7 boob jobs and I’m renting Neverland Ranch for my birthday party in June. There you go, bitches... chew on that for a while.
And no, you can’t have my autograph.
To end the fantasticness of the day, I went to Friendly’s with my mom. They had a clown there who was making balloon hats for the little kids. My mom suddenly shouted, "I WANT A BALLOON HAT!" Then she looked at me and said, "If I wore a balloon hat.... would you still be my friend?"
Moms always know how to fix a bad day.
Friday, March 14, 2008
My So Called Mid Life Crisis.
Have you ever wanted to just drive, until you were tired of driving? On Tuesday I was on my way to work, when I thought to myself, "What if I didn’t get off at my exit? What if I just drove right past it?" Eventually I would end up in Philly, but once I was there, what would I do? Walk down South Street? Sit in Love Park all day, by myself?
Then on Wednesday, I almost broke the sound barrier trying to get to West Chester for a nine o clock meeting. I passed three cops, but miraculously none of them pulled me over. I flew right by a brand new Ford Mustang who was also moving pretty quickly, the driver of which looked at me as if I had absolutely no business driving that fast. Which, of course, I didn’t.
This leads me to ponder: Is this what I was meant to do? Is there something better suited for me out there somewhere that I just haven’t found yet? I tend to believe there is. How do I find it? Should I just keep waiting for it to come to ME? What in God’s name is it?!?!?! I’m getting fed up with the mundaneness that has become a daily routine. How much longer can I live in this rat race? And if I’m having a mid life crisis, does that mean I’m only going to live to be 50? If so, that kinda sucks, because I think I have more than 25 years left in this body of mine.
I really had hoped that 2008 would be a stellar year. So far, it hasn’t been so bad for me.... but sickness, tragedy, and even death have hit some people very close to me. I’ve done my best to try and be there for every single person that’s needed me, but it also leads me to wonder when the extremely bad luck will impose itself of my life. I really hope it’s no time soon, and if you’ll excuse me, I now have to go find the biggest piece of wood on the planet and knock on it.
In the meantime, I have a less stressful dilemma. I recently welcomed a new kitty into my home. I don’t quite know how it happened, I just woke up one morning and I found her in my dining room, much to the dismay of my father who only days earlier laid down a "no more cats, ever" law. So you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the sleeping furball, whom my mother just, "Had to adopt"... whatever. Anyway, she needs a name, and I’m asking you, my friends, to take a look at this picture and give me some ideas. Right now we’re calling her Ichthyosaurus Fluffbucket, because she’s a bucket of fluff that eats plants. It just doesn’t seem like a nice name for a cat. It’s definetly suitable, but it’s certainly not cute. Any help in this matter would be greatly appreciated. And if you give me some stupid shit like "Cutie Pie" or "Kitty Kat" you’re getting punched in the face. Just a heads up.
Friends, just a reminder that I love you all dearly. I thank the Lord there’s people out there like you!
Then on Wednesday, I almost broke the sound barrier trying to get to West Chester for a nine o clock meeting. I passed three cops, but miraculously none of them pulled me over. I flew right by a brand new Ford Mustang who was also moving pretty quickly, the driver of which looked at me as if I had absolutely no business driving that fast. Which, of course, I didn’t.
This leads me to ponder: Is this what I was meant to do? Is there something better suited for me out there somewhere that I just haven’t found yet? I tend to believe there is. How do I find it? Should I just keep waiting for it to come to ME? What in God’s name is it?!?!?! I’m getting fed up with the mundaneness that has become a daily routine. How much longer can I live in this rat race? And if I’m having a mid life crisis, does that mean I’m only going to live to be 50? If so, that kinda sucks, because I think I have more than 25 years left in this body of mine.
I really had hoped that 2008 would be a stellar year. So far, it hasn’t been so bad for me.... but sickness, tragedy, and even death have hit some people very close to me. I’ve done my best to try and be there for every single person that’s needed me, but it also leads me to wonder when the extremely bad luck will impose itself of my life. I really hope it’s no time soon, and if you’ll excuse me, I now have to go find the biggest piece of wood on the planet and knock on it.
In the meantime, I have a less stressful dilemma. I recently welcomed a new kitty into my home. I don’t quite know how it happened, I just woke up one morning and I found her in my dining room, much to the dismay of my father who only days earlier laid down a "no more cats, ever" law. So you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the sleeping furball, whom my mother just, "Had to adopt"... whatever. Anyway, she needs a name, and I’m asking you, my friends, to take a look at this picture and give me some ideas. Right now we’re calling her Ichthyosaurus Fluffbucket, because she’s a bucket of fluff that eats plants. It just doesn’t seem like a nice name for a cat. It’s definetly suitable, but it’s certainly not cute. Any help in this matter would be greatly appreciated. And if you give me some stupid shit like "Cutie Pie" or "Kitty Kat" you’re getting punched in the face. Just a heads up.
Friends, just a reminder that I love you all dearly. I thank the Lord there’s people out there like you!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
How do YOU measure a year?
I know, I know. 500, 25 thousand, 600 minutes. I know all that already. But really, how DO you measure a year? Is it how successful you were? Is it how much money you made? Is it keeping your "status" in tact with friends and family? Is it how you carried yourself throughout the year? Is is anything that matters?
I know it sounds corny and cliche, but.... how about love? I mean, really?
My hope for 2008 is for us to love each other a little bit better. Maybe we should try to pay a little more attention to each other. Maybe we should take the time to stop and smell the roses. Let's appreciate life a little bit more. Is that too much to ask?
Today I read every blog I've posted here. My first blog was in January of 2006. It's baffling what 2 years can do for you, how much can change in that length of time.
2007 kicked my ass. I have nothing but high hopes for 2008, and I'm entering this year with a positive outlook. Let's put on our party shoes and boogie down.
With that being said, I wish all of my friends a happy and healthy new year. I love you all to pieces. I mean it!
I ask you to remember that tomorrow is not promised. R.I.P. Aimee Gumpper 7/87 - 1/08.
I know it sounds corny and cliche, but.... how about love? I mean, really?
My hope for 2008 is for us to love each other a little bit better. Maybe we should try to pay a little more attention to each other. Maybe we should take the time to stop and smell the roses. Let's appreciate life a little bit more. Is that too much to ask?
Today I read every blog I've posted here. My first blog was in January of 2006. It's baffling what 2 years can do for you, how much can change in that length of time.
2007 kicked my ass. I have nothing but high hopes for 2008, and I'm entering this year with a positive outlook. Let's put on our party shoes and boogie down.
With that being said, I wish all of my friends a happy and healthy new year. I love you all to pieces. I mean it!
I ask you to remember that tomorrow is not promised. R.I.P. Aimee Gumpper 7/87 - 1/08.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Hooray for holidays.
Ahhhh, the holidays. That magical time of year when we get together with the ones we love and make total asses out of ourselves.
*During the drive to a relatives house, I will inevitably be criticized by backseat drivers who have no business being in a car with me in the first place. My mother will scream at me to make a left, because she's absolutely certain that's the way to go. My father will outscream her and tell me to make a right, whichever I choose will be the wrong choice, guaranteed.
*Family members will rudely ask me about my personal life, because obviously it's their business.
*My mother will say something completely innapropriate at a family gathering and not even care.
*My cat will rip off the face of an unsuspecting young child who just wanted to "pet the kitty" (my cat doesn't like you; please don't touch him).
*Someone will get drunk and fall down the stairs. It will probably be me.
*I will call my cousins boyfriend "Tom" when his name is actually "Joe", not knowing that she dumped Tom 3 days prior for Joe. She will cry, it will be my fault.
*A family member will give me the gift of a shirt that is 5 times too big for me, insinuating that I am a fat cow. I will cry and skip my 3rd helping of dessert.
*Everyone will bring a "dish" to dinner, except for me of course, because I am 25 and can't make toast.
*The Christmas tree will fall over on my 97 year old grandmother, who never saw it coming because she was passed out drunk anyway.
*My relatives who swore they'd be there on time will be 2 hours late, and since it is "rude" to eat without everyone present, I will be forced to drive to McDonalds to get a double quarter pounder, which will end up all over my holiday dress.
My dear friends, I hope your holidays run smoothly, and I hope you get everything you wished for. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white!
Or not, because it sucks to drive in the snow.
*During the drive to a relatives house, I will inevitably be criticized by backseat drivers who have no business being in a car with me in the first place. My mother will scream at me to make a left, because she's absolutely certain that's the way to go. My father will outscream her and tell me to make a right, whichever I choose will be the wrong choice, guaranteed.
*Family members will rudely ask me about my personal life, because obviously it's their business.
*My mother will say something completely innapropriate at a family gathering and not even care.
*My cat will rip off the face of an unsuspecting young child who just wanted to "pet the kitty" (my cat doesn't like you; please don't touch him).
*Someone will get drunk and fall down the stairs. It will probably be me.
*I will call my cousins boyfriend "Tom" when his name is actually "Joe", not knowing that she dumped Tom 3 days prior for Joe. She will cry, it will be my fault.
*A family member will give me the gift of a shirt that is 5 times too big for me, insinuating that I am a fat cow. I will cry and skip my 3rd helping of dessert.
*Everyone will bring a "dish" to dinner, except for me of course, because I am 25 and can't make toast.
*The Christmas tree will fall over on my 97 year old grandmother, who never saw it coming because she was passed out drunk anyway.
*My relatives who swore they'd be there on time will be 2 hours late, and since it is "rude" to eat without everyone present, I will be forced to drive to McDonalds to get a double quarter pounder, which will end up all over my holiday dress.
My dear friends, I hope your holidays run smoothly, and I hope you get everything you wished for. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white!
Or not, because it sucks to drive in the snow.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
My amazing adventures at Costco.
I am not very familiar with Costco. My boss took me there when I first started my job to get a membership and get my picture taken and the whole hoopla, but that was the only time I was ever there. I decided to go back yesterday to get a festive holiday basket filled with goodies. It was kind of a disaster.
First of all, the Costco near my work is in the worst possible location, and it is almost unreachable by car. It is right near 202 and Mall Boulevard in King of Prussia, which is a very tricky spot to be getting in and out of. Once you get there, you realize very quickly that the parking lot is way too small, and that the chances of your car being hit by another car are 99.9%, which is a ridiculously high percentage, but it's true.
Anyway, I found a parking spot and made my way towards the entrance. The first door I hit was the "EXIT" door, but you are not in any way, shape, or form allowed to pass through that door unless you are indeed exiting. So I made my way to the "ENTRANCE" door, to be greeted by a little old man who will not let me enter the store because my Costco card with my ghastly picture on it is not visible. He makes me stand out in the freezing cold to rummage through my purse and wallet until find the card. After about 5 minutes of looking, I would think perhaps he would just tell me to come inside, but no, I must remain outside in 3 degree weather until I find this hideous card. I finally find it, I show it to him, and he lets me through.
Once I get inside, I have no idea where to go. There is no rhyme or reason to this store, everything is everywhere. I make my way over to the spot where my boss took me the last time we were here, which is where I am supposed to find festive holiday baskets. Alas, everything has been moved. In place of the baskets I find a plethora of memory foam slippers and 35 dollar down pillows. I make a mental note of the location of the pillows for future reference.
After wandering aimlessly around the store for 25 minutes, I finally spot the festive holiday baskets. I pick one up to inspect it, only to find out that none of them are marked with prices. I throw a mini temper tantram in the aisle for 5 minutes before realizing that all prices are above the objects. How the hell was I supposed to know? I choose the basket that is within my price range, and I pick it up to see exactly what kind of goodies are inside. And as I am standing there, unmoving in my spot, the ugliest woman I have ever seen drives her cart directly into my body. I am so astonished by this, seeing as how I had been standing there, stationary, in my spot for at least 30 seconds. It's not like she was even going that fast, or like she was coming around a corner and just didn't see me.... nor was I standing in the middle of the aisle, taking up the whole aisle like a big fat cow. I guess she just felt like she could push me out of her way, literally. As the cart struck my left hip, she tried to act surprised, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." What does she mean she didn't see me? What could she possibly MEAN by that? I had been standing in the same spot for 30 seconds, as she was meandering down the aisle with her cart, slowly inspecting each item in the aisle! You knew I was there, crazy woman, I had been there for at least 30 seconds. I just said, "It's ok" and walked away with my basket. I didn't feel like getting into a fight at Costco.
I made my way over to the registers, and it was a nightmare. Every single person in the King of Prussia area was in the check out line at Costco on this particular day. I picked the slowest moving line possible, of course, and it also happened to be the one with all of the Scrooges in it, complaining that the line was too long. Look, we all know that it's a long line, there is no need to talk about it loudly so that everyone else can hear you. Do you think that will make the line move faster? Because it won't.
I am next in line, and I realize that Costco checkout lines are different than any other checkout line I am used to. Your items go on the belt, you go in one line, and your cart goes in another line. A Costco guy comes and escorts your cart to the other end of the line, where he will stock your cart with your purchases of the day. I get to the checkout woman, and she holds her hand out.... ohmygod, she wants my Costco card. What the hell did I do with it? Did that crazy little man ever give it back to me? Sure he did.... but what did I do with it? I check my wallet, but no, it never made it back into my wallet. I dump my purse out onto the register, but it's not there either... I stick my hand in my coat pocket, and much to my delight, I pull out the card. The grumpy old man behind me is muttering about how long I am taking. I, of course, ignore him because he is old and his opinions do not matter to me. I give her the card, give her my money, and the guy who is stocking my cart THROWS my festive holiday basket into my cart like he is slam dunking a basketball. I make my over to the "EXIT" door, and there is woman there, who will not let you leave the store until she sees your receipt. Of course I've already lost my receipt, even though I just left the register. I find it in my pocket with the Costco card. I angrily shove it in her face, she marks it with a black pen, and lets me leave. I then wonder if there is a final test I must pass before I can completely leave the store and forget this whole horrible experience ever happened. But no, no one checks to make sure that I have a black pen mark on my receipt, so I cross the parking lot to get to my car.
And wouldn't you know, the hideous woman who hit my left hip with her cart has parked her monstrous minivan next to my little car, and she has all of her damn doors open as she loads her ONE item into her minivan. I had to wait for her to close all of her doors before I could get into my car. It is 3 degrees out, and all I want to do is punch this woman in the face.
I drive over to the hotel that I actually bought the basket for (it's a giveaway for a monthly drawing). I take it over to the manager, and as I am getting ready to tell him about my horrific experience, he says, "I don't like that basket".
This is my life.
Screw you Costco, for ruining my day.
First of all, the Costco near my work is in the worst possible location, and it is almost unreachable by car. It is right near 202 and Mall Boulevard in King of Prussia, which is a very tricky spot to be getting in and out of. Once you get there, you realize very quickly that the parking lot is way too small, and that the chances of your car being hit by another car are 99.9%, which is a ridiculously high percentage, but it's true.
Anyway, I found a parking spot and made my way towards the entrance. The first door I hit was the "EXIT" door, but you are not in any way, shape, or form allowed to pass through that door unless you are indeed exiting. So I made my way to the "ENTRANCE" door, to be greeted by a little old man who will not let me enter the store because my Costco card with my ghastly picture on it is not visible. He makes me stand out in the freezing cold to rummage through my purse and wallet until find the card. After about 5 minutes of looking, I would think perhaps he would just tell me to come inside, but no, I must remain outside in 3 degree weather until I find this hideous card. I finally find it, I show it to him, and he lets me through.
Once I get inside, I have no idea where to go. There is no rhyme or reason to this store, everything is everywhere. I make my way over to the spot where my boss took me the last time we were here, which is where I am supposed to find festive holiday baskets. Alas, everything has been moved. In place of the baskets I find a plethora of memory foam slippers and 35 dollar down pillows. I make a mental note of the location of the pillows for future reference.
After wandering aimlessly around the store for 25 minutes, I finally spot the festive holiday baskets. I pick one up to inspect it, only to find out that none of them are marked with prices. I throw a mini temper tantram in the aisle for 5 minutes before realizing that all prices are above the objects. How the hell was I supposed to know? I choose the basket that is within my price range, and I pick it up to see exactly what kind of goodies are inside. And as I am standing there, unmoving in my spot, the ugliest woman I have ever seen drives her cart directly into my body. I am so astonished by this, seeing as how I had been standing there, stationary, in my spot for at least 30 seconds. It's not like she was even going that fast, or like she was coming around a corner and just didn't see me.... nor was I standing in the middle of the aisle, taking up the whole aisle like a big fat cow. I guess she just felt like she could push me out of her way, literally. As the cart struck my left hip, she tried to act surprised, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." What does she mean she didn't see me? What could she possibly MEAN by that? I had been standing in the same spot for 30 seconds, as she was meandering down the aisle with her cart, slowly inspecting each item in the aisle! You knew I was there, crazy woman, I had been there for at least 30 seconds. I just said, "It's ok" and walked away with my basket. I didn't feel like getting into a fight at Costco.
I made my way over to the registers, and it was a nightmare. Every single person in the King of Prussia area was in the check out line at Costco on this particular day. I picked the slowest moving line possible, of course, and it also happened to be the one with all of the Scrooges in it, complaining that the line was too long. Look, we all know that it's a long line, there is no need to talk about it loudly so that everyone else can hear you. Do you think that will make the line move faster? Because it won't.
I am next in line, and I realize that Costco checkout lines are different than any other checkout line I am used to. Your items go on the belt, you go in one line, and your cart goes in another line. A Costco guy comes and escorts your cart to the other end of the line, where he will stock your cart with your purchases of the day. I get to the checkout woman, and she holds her hand out.... ohmygod, she wants my Costco card. What the hell did I do with it? Did that crazy little man ever give it back to me? Sure he did.... but what did I do with it? I check my wallet, but no, it never made it back into my wallet. I dump my purse out onto the register, but it's not there either... I stick my hand in my coat pocket, and much to my delight, I pull out the card. The grumpy old man behind me is muttering about how long I am taking. I, of course, ignore him because he is old and his opinions do not matter to me. I give her the card, give her my money, and the guy who is stocking my cart THROWS my festive holiday basket into my cart like he is slam dunking a basketball. I make my over to the "EXIT" door, and there is woman there, who will not let you leave the store until she sees your receipt. Of course I've already lost my receipt, even though I just left the register. I find it in my pocket with the Costco card. I angrily shove it in her face, she marks it with a black pen, and lets me leave. I then wonder if there is a final test I must pass before I can completely leave the store and forget this whole horrible experience ever happened. But no, no one checks to make sure that I have a black pen mark on my receipt, so I cross the parking lot to get to my car.
And wouldn't you know, the hideous woman who hit my left hip with her cart has parked her monstrous minivan next to my little car, and she has all of her damn doors open as she loads her ONE item into her minivan. I had to wait for her to close all of her doors before I could get into my car. It is 3 degrees out, and all I want to do is punch this woman in the face.
I drive over to the hotel that I actually bought the basket for (it's a giveaway for a monthly drawing). I take it over to the manager, and as I am getting ready to tell him about my horrific experience, he says, "I don't like that basket".
This is my life.
Screw you Costco, for ruining my day.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Snake!
I swear, every time I try to have a nice relaxing evening, something crazy happens that prevents me from doing so. Such is life.
So yesterday was Sunday, the day I normally use to recuperate from any weekend activites that may have occured. I was watching the season premier of Family Guy, and everything was going quite well. I was sitting in bed, laughing at Stewie's crazy antics, when I hear my mom scream. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway, and I shouted "Where are you?" She was standing in the kitchen near the basement stairs, but I couldn't see her, I could only hear her. She then screamed, "Gretchen!" (which is me), "Brian!" (which is my dad), "Flash!" (which is my cat), and then "Snake!" (Snake? Did she really just say snake?) She then screamed something completely unintelligable about finding my father and killing a snake, so I did what any person in my position would do.... I ran to find my daddy.
I ran up the stairs to his bedroom, and of course, he's fast asleep, and has no idea of the craziness that's occuring downstairs. I wake him up by yelling, "THERE'S A SNAKE IN THE KITCHEN, MOMS FREAKING OUT!" He's still half asleep, and he says to me, "Did you say snake?" So of course, I yell back, "YES I SAID SNAKE!! WE GOTTA GO!"
So we run down the stairs and my mom is screaming, "Don't come in here! The snake will bite you, he's under the fridge!" The next few seconds were complete pandemonium. I grabbed my cat, who was very interested in the situation, and threw him into my bedroom and slammed the door. My dad grabbed a rubbermaid bin, the kind you would put your summer clothes in to pack them away. He took the lid off of it, handed it to me, and we made our way into the kitchen. Sure enough, there's Mr. Snake, slithering around under our fridge. He must have made his way in through the gap under our side door in the kitchen.... we had it open all day long.
So my dad starts yelling about how it's definitely not a garden snake because it has bands around it, my mom is screaming because she thinks she's gonna die, and I'm holding the top to a rubbermaid bin. My dad slid the bin towards Mr. Snake, and he willingly slithered into it and we slapped the top on like nobody's business. We all took a second to breathe, and then my dad and I came up with a game plan. We are going to release the snake in the woods across from my house. For those that don't know, I live on a pretty major road, and crossing it is not advised at any time, especially at 9:30 at night. But nontheless, we grab our trusty flashlight and head out there.
Other than the fact that my dad is only wearing boxer shorts and sandals, and I can't see shit because I don't have my contacts in, we get across the street with pretty much no problem. My dad tips the bin over, opens the lid, and Mr. Snake slithers out into the darkness. He was about 3 feet long. My dad and I made a made dash back towards the house, we didn't want to stick around and hang out in the woods with Mr. Snake anymore.
So, the moral of THIS story is, praise your pets when they do fun things, like play with snakes. Flash was the one that spotted him slithering around in the kitchen, and my mom went over to see what he was "stalking". If Flash hadn't have seen him, my mom would have stepped right on that bitch. Guaranteed. Because that's just how things work.
Rock on with your bad self, Flash!
So yesterday was Sunday, the day I normally use to recuperate from any weekend activites that may have occured. I was watching the season premier of Family Guy, and everything was going quite well. I was sitting in bed, laughing at Stewie's crazy antics, when I hear my mom scream. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway, and I shouted "Where are you?" She was standing in the kitchen near the basement stairs, but I couldn't see her, I could only hear her. She then screamed, "Gretchen!" (which is me), "Brian!" (which is my dad), "Flash!" (which is my cat), and then "Snake!" (Snake? Did she really just say snake?) She then screamed something completely unintelligable about finding my father and killing a snake, so I did what any person in my position would do.... I ran to find my daddy.
I ran up the stairs to his bedroom, and of course, he's fast asleep, and has no idea of the craziness that's occuring downstairs. I wake him up by yelling, "THERE'S A SNAKE IN THE KITCHEN, MOMS FREAKING OUT!" He's still half asleep, and he says to me, "Did you say snake?" So of course, I yell back, "YES I SAID SNAKE!! WE GOTTA GO!"
So we run down the stairs and my mom is screaming, "Don't come in here! The snake will bite you, he's under the fridge!" The next few seconds were complete pandemonium. I grabbed my cat, who was very interested in the situation, and threw him into my bedroom and slammed the door. My dad grabbed a rubbermaid bin, the kind you would put your summer clothes in to pack them away. He took the lid off of it, handed it to me, and we made our way into the kitchen. Sure enough, there's Mr. Snake, slithering around under our fridge. He must have made his way in through the gap under our side door in the kitchen.... we had it open all day long.
So my dad starts yelling about how it's definitely not a garden snake because it has bands around it, my mom is screaming because she thinks she's gonna die, and I'm holding the top to a rubbermaid bin. My dad slid the bin towards Mr. Snake, and he willingly slithered into it and we slapped the top on like nobody's business. We all took a second to breathe, and then my dad and I came up with a game plan. We are going to release the snake in the woods across from my house. For those that don't know, I live on a pretty major road, and crossing it is not advised at any time, especially at 9:30 at night. But nontheless, we grab our trusty flashlight and head out there.
Other than the fact that my dad is only wearing boxer shorts and sandals, and I can't see shit because I don't have my contacts in, we get across the street with pretty much no problem. My dad tips the bin over, opens the lid, and Mr. Snake slithers out into the darkness. He was about 3 feet long. My dad and I made a made dash back towards the house, we didn't want to stick around and hang out in the woods with Mr. Snake anymore.
So, the moral of THIS story is, praise your pets when they do fun things, like play with snakes. Flash was the one that spotted him slithering around in the kitchen, and my mom went over to see what he was "stalking". If Flash hadn't have seen him, my mom would have stepped right on that bitch. Guaranteed. Because that's just how things work.
Rock on with your bad self, Flash!
Monday, September 10, 2007
It's a train wreck, bitch.
Oh my. Britney Spears. How do I love thee.... let me count the ways.
Your lip synching is amazing, as is your stellar choreography. Did you choreograph that yourself? I bet you did, you little vixen. I especially enjoyed that sexy outfit that emphasized the beauty of your baby fat. I just can't keep my eyes off of you, Britney. Keep doing that sweet thang you do.
Anyway........In case you can't tell, I watched the Video Music Awards last night. I don't want to talk to much about THAT, but I do want to talk about the thrilling programing that MTV has lined up for this fall.
1. Pageant Place. A bunch of beauty queens living in a house together, fighting over lip gloss. Drama ensues.
2. Kaya. A young rocker starlet doesn't know how to cope with her new found fame. Drugs, alcohol, and promiscuous sex? Christ, I hope so.
3. A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. 16 lesbians con 16 horny straight guys into falling in love with them. All this while Miss Tequila attempts to find a boyfriend. I'm wondering why Tila Tequila needs to go on a reality show to find a man.... I need more info. Also, Miss Tequila reveals her huge "secret" to the world... she's bisexual. Is this really a secret? Because I've known this for quite some time now.
Since I dont have enough time in my day to watch all of this fabulous programming, and I can only allocate one new show into my schedule right now, I've picked the one about Tila Tequila. Surprised? Didn't think so. I mean, they all sound good... seriously, these three shows are going to blow My Super Sweet 16 right out of the water.
Your lip synching is amazing, as is your stellar choreography. Did you choreograph that yourself? I bet you did, you little vixen. I especially enjoyed that sexy outfit that emphasized the beauty of your baby fat. I just can't keep my eyes off of you, Britney. Keep doing that sweet thang you do.
Anyway........In case you can't tell, I watched the Video Music Awards last night. I don't want to talk to much about THAT, but I do want to talk about the thrilling programing that MTV has lined up for this fall.
1. Pageant Place. A bunch of beauty queens living in a house together, fighting over lip gloss. Drama ensues.
2. Kaya. A young rocker starlet doesn't know how to cope with her new found fame. Drugs, alcohol, and promiscuous sex? Christ, I hope so.
3. A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. 16 lesbians con 16 horny straight guys into falling in love with them. All this while Miss Tequila attempts to find a boyfriend. I'm wondering why Tila Tequila needs to go on a reality show to find a man.... I need more info. Also, Miss Tequila reveals her huge "secret" to the world... she's bisexual. Is this really a secret? Because I've known this for quite some time now.
Since I dont have enough time in my day to watch all of this fabulous programming, and I can only allocate one new show into my schedule right now, I've picked the one about Tila Tequila. Surprised? Didn't think so. I mean, they all sound good... seriously, these three shows are going to blow My Super Sweet 16 right out of the water.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I don't get no respect!
Do you think if I dyed my hair brown, people would stop treating me like a brainless blonde bimbo? That's the question of the day.
I've never been one to say things like that, but sometimes I guess certain things just have to be said. Now, I am in no way, shape, or form attempting to associate myself with the likes of actual brainless blonde bimbos (such as the "Girls Next Door"). I have never once claimed to be a sexy supermodel with the IQ of a peanut, and I would appreciate it if you didn't lump me into this horrendous category.
All I'm trying to say is that I'm not a total jackass. Don't treat me like one. I'm not going to get on a soapbox and use the old, "I graduated from a great college, I've acheived this or that in my career" bullshit. I'm simply saying that I'm not a fucking moron. So don't treat me like one or you'll get punched in the face. Not slapped, punched. Only bitches slap.
love,
me
I've never been one to say things like that, but sometimes I guess certain things just have to be said. Now, I am in no way, shape, or form attempting to associate myself with the likes of actual brainless blonde bimbos (such as the "Girls Next Door"). I have never once claimed to be a sexy supermodel with the IQ of a peanut, and I would appreciate it if you didn't lump me into this horrendous category.
All I'm trying to say is that I'm not a total jackass. Don't treat me like one. I'm not going to get on a soapbox and use the old, "I graduated from a great college, I've acheived this or that in my career" bullshit. I'm simply saying that I'm not a fucking moron. So don't treat me like one or you'll get punched in the face. Not slapped, punched. Only bitches slap.
love,
me
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Albinos, Albanians, and You: 10 Things I've Learned This Summer.
My friends,With summer all-to-quickly coming to end, I thought I'd share some things with you.
These are the top 10 things I've learned this summer, in no particular order.
1. Don't go on a date with someone who doesn't speak english. It's difficult.
2. Don't believe someone just because they are supposed to be an "expert" on something. Do your own research and form your own opinions. (That goes out to YOU, Sirius Satellite Radio staff!)
3. Don't take your cell phone in the bathtub with you. Cell phone + water = a very bad experience.
4. Shit happens, deal with it. Chances are, that shit happened for a reason, and if you don't move on, you'll never know what that reason is.
5. Don't do 71 mph in a 55 mph zone. You WILL get pulled over.
6. Don't forget to wear sunscreen. And if your fair skinned, use SPF 260, or else you'll burst into flames when sitting on the beach.
7. Kanye West has no skills as a lyricist.
8. Don't drive your car into things. Curbs are there for a reason.
9. Don't go to the bar with your parents. You could get wasted and end up dropping the F bomb in front of your mom.
10. If you give someone of the opposite sex your phone number and they don't call you, don't waste time wondering why they didn't call. They're just not that into you. Or maybe they just don't speak english....
I hope everyone had a great summer. Fall, here we come!
These are the top 10 things I've learned this summer, in no particular order.
1. Don't go on a date with someone who doesn't speak english. It's difficult.
2. Don't believe someone just because they are supposed to be an "expert" on something. Do your own research and form your own opinions. (That goes out to YOU, Sirius Satellite Radio staff!)
3. Don't take your cell phone in the bathtub with you. Cell phone + water = a very bad experience.
4. Shit happens, deal with it. Chances are, that shit happened for a reason, and if you don't move on, you'll never know what that reason is.
5. Don't do 71 mph in a 55 mph zone. You WILL get pulled over.
6. Don't forget to wear sunscreen. And if your fair skinned, use SPF 260, or else you'll burst into flames when sitting on the beach.
7. Kanye West has no skills as a lyricist.
8. Don't drive your car into things. Curbs are there for a reason.
9. Don't go to the bar with your parents. You could get wasted and end up dropping the F bomb in front of your mom.
10. If you give someone of the opposite sex your phone number and they don't call you, don't waste time wondering why they didn't call. They're just not that into you. Or maybe they just don't speak english....
I hope everyone had a great summer. Fall, here we come!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Hellish.
Have you ever had one of those days? You know, where you REALLY should not have gotten out of bed that morning?
Hello, July 26, 2007. I will try to be brief.
My sunroof that I just had installed in my car 3 days ago has fallen in. So, I take the car back to Hyundai, only to hear that they do not have a rental car for me. A 900 year old man will now drive me in a shuttle back to my office. When the car is ready, I have Mika and Travis take me from my office to Hyundai to pick up my car, because I do not want to bother the 900 year old man again.
I pick up my car, everything is great. I am driving home from Hyundai, when I witness a car accident take place 3 cars in front of me. Of course, no one else stops, so I decide to be the responsible one and pull over. The cops arrive and I am the "expert witness", and we all know how much I love to talk to cops. I give them my account of what happened, and they let me go. Thankfully.
So then I get home and jump online. I'm expecting a nice quiet evening at home. All is going well, until my mom screams, "Something is on fire!"So much for my relaxing evening.
So I run outside, because she is looking out the window and screaming about the backyard. As it would turn out, the transformer that is in my backyard is on fire. In about a matter of 3 seconds, my entire neighborhood has lost power. By the time I have realized the gravity of the situation, the fire department is there, but they are not putting out the fire. They are standing in my neighbors backyard hanging out, drinking beers. Pointing and staring. Eventually one guy decides to put out the fire, and they put a new transformer in, which takes a grand total of 3 hours.
Basically, today sucked and I really hope tomorrow is better.
Hello, July 26, 2007. I will try to be brief.
My sunroof that I just had installed in my car 3 days ago has fallen in. So, I take the car back to Hyundai, only to hear that they do not have a rental car for me. A 900 year old man will now drive me in a shuttle back to my office. When the car is ready, I have Mika and Travis take me from my office to Hyundai to pick up my car, because I do not want to bother the 900 year old man again.
I pick up my car, everything is great. I am driving home from Hyundai, when I witness a car accident take place 3 cars in front of me. Of course, no one else stops, so I decide to be the responsible one and pull over. The cops arrive and I am the "expert witness", and we all know how much I love to talk to cops. I give them my account of what happened, and they let me go. Thankfully.
So then I get home and jump online. I'm expecting a nice quiet evening at home. All is going well, until my mom screams, "Something is on fire!"So much for my relaxing evening.
So I run outside, because she is looking out the window and screaming about the backyard. As it would turn out, the transformer that is in my backyard is on fire. In about a matter of 3 seconds, my entire neighborhood has lost power. By the time I have realized the gravity of the situation, the fire department is there, but they are not putting out the fire. They are standing in my neighbors backyard hanging out, drinking beers. Pointing and staring. Eventually one guy decides to put out the fire, and they put a new transformer in, which takes a grand total of 3 hours.
Basically, today sucked and I really hope tomorrow is better.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
My letter to July.
Dear July,
I understand you will be coming to visit me soon. I have mixed feelings about this, because your friend June is currently here, and let me tell you, she has NOT been pleasant. I might even go so far as to say she is quite possibly the worst house guest I've ever had. A lot of crappy things have occured since June got here, including, but not limited to:
-I got a temperature of one million and three degrees.
-I had to run 20 miles per hour to catch a train that was about to leave me behind. Twice.
-I had the pleasure of having my job suck all the joy from my life.
-I went crazy.
-I had to be away from family and friends on my birthday.
-I destroyed my bedroom in a fit of rage.
-I had to help a stupid bitch plan her April 26, 2008 wedding.
-The migraine from Hell infiltrated my life, and hasn't left yet....
-My mom accidentally sprayed me with mase.
July, these are just a FEW of the shitty things that have happened to me since June's arrival. And she's still here! Oh man, I cannot WAIT for her to leave.
I'm hoping we can have a better time than June and I did. You will be here for approximately 31 days, and I'm trying to plan some really great activities for us to do together. So please hurry, because if I have to look at June for another day I will stab myself in the eye.
Your friend,
g.
P.S. Don't forget to bring your bathing suit!
I understand you will be coming to visit me soon. I have mixed feelings about this, because your friend June is currently here, and let me tell you, she has NOT been pleasant. I might even go so far as to say she is quite possibly the worst house guest I've ever had. A lot of crappy things have occured since June got here, including, but not limited to:
-I got a temperature of one million and three degrees.
-I had to run 20 miles per hour to catch a train that was about to leave me behind. Twice.
-I had the pleasure of having my job suck all the joy from my life.
-I went crazy.
-I had to be away from family and friends on my birthday.
-I destroyed my bedroom in a fit of rage.
-I had to help a stupid bitch plan her April 26, 2008 wedding.
-The migraine from Hell infiltrated my life, and hasn't left yet....
-My mom accidentally sprayed me with mase.
July, these are just a FEW of the shitty things that have happened to me since June's arrival. And she's still here! Oh man, I cannot WAIT for her to leave.
I'm hoping we can have a better time than June and I did. You will be here for approximately 31 days, and I'm trying to plan some really great activities for us to do together. So please hurry, because if I have to look at June for another day I will stab myself in the eye.
Your friend,
g.
P.S. Don't forget to bring your bathing suit!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Make Lemonade.
Look, I know I just blogged less than 24 hours ago. So sue me.
Life itself never ceases to amaze me. Last night I talked to God for over an hour before I realized he wasn't listening. I guess he had other more pressing issues to attend to, which is fine. I feel like I'm at the lunchmeat counter at Giant, and you have to take a number to be helped. Well, I've taken my number, and now I am waiting not-so-patiently for my help.
Or maybe He WAS listening, which is why I'm able to wiggle my fingers and toes today.
Either way, I woke up this morning. I walked outside and took and deep breath. It's a beautiful day. It's sunny and warm. Life is here. It's all around me.
There are butterflies in the front yard and squirrels in the backyard. I don't really like squirrels, though. One time they invaded my house and moved all of their squirrel belongings into my attic and tried to have a party. My dad chased them around with a beebee gun. I'm getting a little off topic here, sorry about that.
My point is that I am here. I was granted another day on this rotating ball we call Earth. I think sometimes we lose sight of the fact that tomorrow is not promised to us. So in the time that we are here, we should learn to make the best of our time. And when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
I think I'm going to write a book. It will be the "Autobiography of Gretchen". It probably won't be a bestseller, but who cares? Not everyone will want to read the story of my life, but I believe that once you pick up the book, you won't be able to put it down. I have seen many things and had many life experiences in the time that I've been around. And who knows how long I'm going to be around for? If I live to be 97, that equals 35,405 days of utter excitement. Cause let's face it; it's never a dull moment around here. Of course, it would not be published until after my death, so I wouldn't be able to see if anyone actually READ the book, but once again, who cares? No one could read it, for all I care. It would be own little accomplishment. And if you don't wanna read it, screw you. I probably talked trash about you in it anyway.
That's my thought for the day. I'm going to move my blog soon to an undisclosed location. If anyone actually reads my rantings, let me know, I'll give you the link.
Trudge forward, earthlings!
Life itself never ceases to amaze me. Last night I talked to God for over an hour before I realized he wasn't listening. I guess he had other more pressing issues to attend to, which is fine. I feel like I'm at the lunchmeat counter at Giant, and you have to take a number to be helped. Well, I've taken my number, and now I am waiting not-so-patiently for my help.
Or maybe He WAS listening, which is why I'm able to wiggle my fingers and toes today.
Either way, I woke up this morning. I walked outside and took and deep breath. It's a beautiful day. It's sunny and warm. Life is here. It's all around me.
There are butterflies in the front yard and squirrels in the backyard. I don't really like squirrels, though. One time they invaded my house and moved all of their squirrel belongings into my attic and tried to have a party. My dad chased them around with a beebee gun. I'm getting a little off topic here, sorry about that.
My point is that I am here. I was granted another day on this rotating ball we call Earth. I think sometimes we lose sight of the fact that tomorrow is not promised to us. So in the time that we are here, we should learn to make the best of our time. And when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
I think I'm going to write a book. It will be the "Autobiography of Gretchen". It probably won't be a bestseller, but who cares? Not everyone will want to read the story of my life, but I believe that once you pick up the book, you won't be able to put it down. I have seen many things and had many life experiences in the time that I've been around. And who knows how long I'm going to be around for? If I live to be 97, that equals 35,405 days of utter excitement. Cause let's face it; it's never a dull moment around here. Of course, it would not be published until after my death, so I wouldn't be able to see if anyone actually READ the book, but once again, who cares? No one could read it, for all I care. It would be own little accomplishment. And if you don't wanna read it, screw you. I probably talked trash about you in it anyway.
That's my thought for the day. I'm going to move my blog soon to an undisclosed location. If anyone actually reads my rantings, let me know, I'll give you the link.
Trudge forward, earthlings!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Top 10 reasons to move to Egypt.
1. The Nile. A beautiful river.
2. The pyramids. Providing lots of places for Gretchen to get lost.
3. That crazy walk those Egyptians got goin' on. I heard someone even wrote a song about it!
4. Sahara freakin' desert. Sure it's hot, but so is Pennsylvania.... right?
5. Hieroglyphics. It's always fun learning a new language!
I couldn't think of ten reasons.... so I just included five. Ahhh, fuck it.
Th-th-th-that's all, folks!
2. The pyramids. Providing lots of places for Gretchen to get lost.
3. That crazy walk those Egyptians got goin' on. I heard someone even wrote a song about it!
4. Sahara freakin' desert. Sure it's hot, but so is Pennsylvania.... right?
5. Hieroglyphics. It's always fun learning a new language!
I couldn't think of ten reasons.... so I just included five. Ahhh, fuck it.
Th-th-th-that's all, folks!
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