Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Well, needless to say I got sucked into its "lemony" goodness and stayed up all friggen night reading it. Now my eyes are itchy, stinging and blurry and I'm not even up to chapter 34 yet! AND, the friggen bastard isn't even complete. WTF is wrong with me?!?!?!?!
So now I'm off to try to finish reading it because it's so goddamn good that I had a goddamn nicotine patch acid dream about it. Lord I need therapy! And a smoke because some of those chapters are just, well, I'm blushing just thinking about it...
Saturday, March 28, 2009
My friend and I were crap rafters. We spent the first half hour or so just paddling around and around in a circle. We couldn't figure out how to make the piece of crap raft go straight. After a while we gave up and cracked open our wine coolers and took a smoke break when a group of two dudes and a chick came up next to us and asked if we wanted to tie a rope to their raft. We decided 'what the hell' especially since one of the dudes was obviously single and looked a little like Uncle Jesse from TV's Full House (Have Mercy):
Not that there's anything WRONG with it! We quickly decided that Wally really wasn't either of our types and we spent the rest of the drip in awkward silence, trying not to give away the real reason for our giggles.
We FINALLY make it to the end of our trip, untie ourselves from what we are now referring to as "Dad's" raft and make off to my car. It's hot, late afternoon, our buzz was wearing off and all we wanted to do was go home and take a little nappy before work. Think that was gonna happen? Nope. Know why? I'm sure you've figured it out but I'll tell ya anyway. Yeah, MY keys were locked in the glove box of Michelle's car. Thankfully Michelle had some cash on her so we booked it over to the Shuttle wait area intent on riding the Shuttle back to her car. That bitch Karma wasn't going to let me have my way! Turns out the last Shuttle had left 10 minutes before so there was only one thing for us to do. I'm sure some of you youngin's might me asking yourself why we just didn't pull out our cell phone and call someone? Well, we would have smart ass if they didn't look like this and cost about a million dollars:
Friday, March 27, 2009
Hell, he was yummy when I first laid (layed?) eyes on him as Cedric Diggory...
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Really? WTF! Thinking about that again made me throw up in my mouth a little. So anyway, this douche just irritated the crap outta me and my girlfriends. I'm not sure whether or not he did anything to us in particular, it was just his very being that pissed us off.
Here's the part that as a grown mother of three I probably shouldn't be bragging about, but it's central this story. Shortly after school ended the summer of my jr. year, a couple of my girlfriends and I were sitting at my house looking at our yearbook. We were doing what normal high school girls do - "ooo he's cute", "he's a geek", "it's so trippy how much like Jesus that dude looks like", "I hate that skank", well you get the drift. When we got to young Massen Gil's picture I said, "Lord I'd love to egg the shit out of his dumb ass car!" The three of us all looked at eachother and three light bulbs went off over our heads. I'd love to say we spent the evening merely fantasizing about going to the grocery store, purchasing god knows how many dozens of eggs and egging the crap outta that convertible Mustang GT, but alas kids that would be a lie. Well...my girlfriends did, that is. The ones I threw just bounced on the stupid-ass white leather seats and just sat there...unbroken. I'm telling you, shit like that happens to me ALL THE TIME!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
'Sides this broad's got my back now! Would you take HER SPOT? I sure the eff wouldn't. I mean, check out the meaty man hands on that lady. Geeze toots, at least don't paint your nails red to draw attention to them.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Down here. Yeah that's right. Wanna see what was between MY SPOT and this piece of crap spot?
Not done yet.
It would probably be best to check the ol' pulse right about now.
Four hours later...
Monday, March 23, 2009
I just wanted to give y'all (I lived in Texas for a minute so I can say "y'all") a big thanks and high-five!!
Much love from Brandyland,
Brandy aka Mee-Ma aka Aunt_B :^)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Latin word for left-handed is “sinister”. The reason “sinister” means what it does today is because hundreds of years ago left-handed people were considered evil.
Nice. Thanks a bunch people in the olden times. Appreciate it.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Yeah, I know it's hard to read ok! I can't freakin figure out how to make it bigger, it was the reason for this post in the first place so you're going to just have to make do. My point is that I wanted to watch my movie this weekend and instead I'm gonna have to do stupid laundry now. That makes mommy angry...ok, maybe I'm being a tadmartin dramatic. My bad.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Put it in the vault please m'kay?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Anyhoo, when I was 16 (well there you have it, I guess there was a reason I brought up living in Hawaii), I was laying in bed listening to the radio trying to get to sleep. All of a sudden my bed started shaking. Know what my first thought was? Yep, I thought I was possessed. I remember laying there thinking, "oh shit, am I possessed?" Thank GAWD the radio was on because a few minutes later the DJ came on and said, "Whoa 'dah brawdah I tink we jus had an earth quake."
Whew, dodged that bullet.
Another time shortly thereafter I walked into my bedroom to put something away. I glanced up at my window and saw these two red blinking lights. Startled, I screamed. Know what I thought was out there? Aliens. I screamed, "Dad, there's something outside!" I wasn't foolish enough to add the part about aliens though. Don't need that coming back to bite me in the ass later! So dad runs outside to investigate when I realized that the two red blinking lights happened to be the reflection of my clock radio. C'mon! It was an honest mistake easily made by anyone of you. Right?
Ooops, my bad. Sorry you had to do that....again. This was totally different than the time when I was 7 and thought there were ghosts in the hall closet and it turned out to be just our dog Jiggy in there playing with the wrapping paper.
Night and Day different.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
I even fell for the whole "It's just a coat made out of arms" or "it a bunch of arms in a race". From the time I was in maybe second grade until probably fourth I believed that if you touched a Vietnamese persons face it would explode. Nice right? I used to walk home with this kid who told me that. Friggen-A I was freaked out! Just the mental picture of a Vietnamese persons face exploding was enough of a deterent for me. But the worst one was the dreaded bone with a blue sock on it. I'm shuddering with humiliation just thinking about it.
The year I was in sixth grade was about a year or so after the Challenger space shuttle exploded and we used to have a guy from NASA come once a month to talk to our class. One evening I was telling, well, *mumbles* my dad, about how the NASA guy was coming to our class the next day. "Make sure to ask him about the bone with a blue sock it that was found on the beach." he told me. "Wha?" I asked wondering where he was going with this little bit of inside info. "Yeah, some people on the beach near the launch site found a bone with a blue sock still on it" "Ask the NASA guy, he'll tell ya." I should have known by the way he said "yeah" and the shit eating grin on his face that I was being set up. But, as the person shit always happens to, luck was not to be on my side. I get up and get ready for school the next day excited that I have a really good, legitimate question to ask Mr. NASA guy. He gets there and goes through his little whatever the hell he was there for and then asked us if we had any questions. I don't have to tell you that my hand was the first one raised do I? So I get called on and I ask the question: "Can you tell us about the bone with a blue sock on it that was found?" I proceed to explain to him what had been told to me by my legitimate source. I might've been a little pushy about it too if I remember correctly. Cue Crickets. I don't think Mr. NASA guy came back after that.
That one is a favorite at Holiday parties.
**Author's note 3/17/09** Apparently I had some of my information incorrect regarding the "blue sock" story. Here is what my dad had to say about that (taken from emails between us over the weekend):
Dad: you're making me die laughing but you got the blue sock thing all wrong...don't give out my address cos the CPS people will be here in a NY minute.....love,dad
Me: So are you saying that you didn't tell me they found a bone w/a blue sock on it? I'm pretty sure I didn't pull that one out of my ass. I have 34 years worth of stories centering around you screwing with me. I've only just begun...ya know what they say about Karma dontcha? Love ya!!
Dad: no, thats not what i'm saying....i told you not to say anything to anyone because it was classified information #1, #2 is i told you it was a boot with the foot still inside and it had a blue sock on....so get your friggin stories right clown girl!!!
There dad, story clarified. Happy now?
My closet monster was.....Melissa Gilbert as Helen Keller. Melissa Gilbert as Laura Ingalls, no prob. Melissa Gilbert as her various and many TV movie characters, bring it on! But, I'm telling you, I straight up thought Helen Keller was in my closet when I was a kid. Even now, I don't like sleeping with my closet doors open. But I try to play it off as being anal retentive. It was that damn movie that freaked me out so bad. Something to do with her knocking her baby sister out of the cradle and then eating everyones scrambled eggs while flailing about.
If my clown story was any indication, I'm sure you can draw your own conclusion as to how my parents reacted to their oldest child telling them that she thought Helen Keller was in her closet. Needless to say there were tears.....of laughter.....from my parents. An instance or two of dad hiding in my closet only to come out doing his best Helen Keller impersonation to his delight and my terror.
And people wonder why I am the way I am.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
So on to the title of my post. The best thing, in my opinion, about wearing the nicotine patch is the wild dreams. So, the instructions specifically say not to sleep with them on but one time I forgot and now I love it. So far this week (well three and a half days) I've dreamt about the following:
- My friends house, her kids, my kids messing up her house, a baby, co-workers, my husband and a thug, the cops and a shitty diaper. All in the same dream at the same time.
- Half of my face being entirely covered in freckles
- A wedding at my old jr. high school where we had to baracade the door so the ex-boyfriend couldn't get in and kill us. The crappy thing about that dream was that I was chain smoking through the whole dream. Not cool nicotine patch!
Friday, March 6, 2009
After all of us woke up (except for me hee hee), we were ushered into the lobby where who the frig was waiting for us? Not the Easter Bunny that's for sure. It was Timmo The MutherFreakinNitemareInducingLifesNeverBeenTheSameSince Clown. Picture if you will that creepy ass clown from It minus the pointy teeth.
At this point I'm having the beginnings of what will soon lead up to the biggest, most ginormous, EPIC freak out meldowns in the history of epic, ginormous, freakout meltdowns. So, hmm, what's a teacher to do? Remove child from area and calm her down? Nope. Give child a reassuring hug and say, "don't worry Brandy, you don't have to get close if you're scared"? Of course not. No, my teacher took me into the parking lot and shoved me into Timmo's tiny little clown car! I remember that bastard driving me around the parking lot while I was hysterically crying and then I must've blocked out portions because the next thing I remember is being locked in the principal's office and my mom picking me up. So mom picks me up, gives me some love and everythings hunky dory right? Wrong! Remember, I'm the person that shit always happens to.
Once my dad found out it was all over. You see, my dad is the man at whose knee I learned and honed my smart ass mouth. So for the next, oh I don't know, decade or two dad never let me forget Timmo the Clown. His favorite passtime was (and still is) pretending to either call Timmo up to babysit me for the night or pretend to be Timmo whenever I answer the phone. He never gets tired of watching me freak out. He lives for that shit! Oh Daddy, you're such a crack up!
I eventually got over my fear of clowns, but I still hate them. I don't just dislike them, I freaking HATE them. If you hate them too, check out one of my favorite webistes: http://www.ihateclowns.com/ . It's the greatest!
See folks, I wasn't just talking out my ass. Shit's been happening to me for as long as I can remember!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Ah, such is life when you're the person shit always happens to. People should be happy that I have such a great sense of humor! To quote Jimmy Buffett, "If I couldn't laugh I would go insane..." Or, some bullshit like that. Knowing me I've got the lyrics all back asswards.
If this had merely been a one-time incident that made my evil Stepmother make such a claim I might've taken offense. But, as you soon will find out, being born ass first must have triggered some "shit happens to me" button. Hopefully you'll not only enjoy some of my more crazier stories, such as the time I thought I was possessed, or the identity of my "closet monster", but also, learn to know that it's ok to laugh at yourself and not take yourself so seriously.