Damn you FanFic!

Damn you to the deepest bowels of hell! I had FINALLY cleansed my soul of all things fanfic until I stumbled across this blog that had been talking about one particular story non-stop: http://inappropriatetwilightobsession.blogspot.com/

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...

Wallier Things Have Happened...

Ah, my youth. The crap that my girls and I would get into back in the day! One particularly crazy, alcohol fueled summer we took up rafting. Not the kind of rafting that you see on TV and what I currently enjoy participating in. No, this type of rafting occured on a stretch of the American River that has pretty much no rapids so the only thing to do (for us anyway-we were idiots) was to paddle around in a circle and drink Bartles and James wine coolers. This particular rafting trip was born because my friend Michelle and I were bored and wanted to kill some time before we had to go to work that evening. So, we load up our two-person second hand raft, ice chest full of wine coolers and Miller High Life, a pack of Marlboro Reds and head out. We decide to take two cars; she would follow me to the place where we would take out at, leave my car there and drive back up to our starting point. Easy no? Well, since you've been reading my blog you know by now that I'm the person shit ALWAYS happens to, 'nuf said. Anyhoo, I lock my car and hop into hers and we set off the four or so miles back to the beginning of my story. (yeah, yeah I sure can talk can't I? Well, just imagine sitting in the same room as me while I'l tellin it. Feel better now dontcha?) We get to our destination and gather up all of our gear and get ready to go down to the river. As an afterthought, I casually throw my keys into her glove box as I was afraid I would lose them in the water. To give you a better visual I have generously included a map for your reference. Please note where Michelle's car is in relation to where MY car is.

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):

Ok, ok. Maybe I'm exaggerating a tadmartin. But he was good lookin from what I can remember. His name was Wally he was tan and he had long hair - a must have for any good lookin dude from the 90's. He had a t-shirt tied around his head which I imagine was keeping his head cool cuz it was a friggen hot ass Sacramento summer day. We all enjoy a fun afternoon drinking and bs'ing and I'm pretty sure a doob was passed around at some point. My friend and I were slyly tring to call "dibs" on Wally when around mid-point in our trip (refer to 'OMG Moment' on map above) Wally decided to jump into the river to cool off. Oh Wally. You so shouldn't have done that dude. When he came back up from the water his the t-shirt that was tied on his head fell off. Wally went from looking like Uncle Jesse to this:

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:

We had to MOTHER FREAKING WALK from MY car to HER car! On foot! In the HOT! And HALF DRUNK! Well, there was NO way in hell we were going to lug all of our crap back so we decided to eff it and left it by our car. If someone took it, screw it.

All in all I think that trip bonded us. We coined the popular phrase "Wallier things have happened" and "foot travelers use left shoulder". Of course they didn't catch on like we had hoped, but we still giggle about it. We're still friends to this day. We were in each other's weddings and if something God forbid ever happens to her and then in turn something God forbid ever happens to her sister, I become her kids gaurdian. It took us I don't even know how many hours to get back to her car. But we made it. In one piece. And no one even asked if they could suck my toe*.

Good times. Good times.

*story for another time.

I've reached a new level of Twitardation

I have a serious problem. Not since Ralph Macchio, Kirk Cameron, River Phoenix and Tim Stapp* have I had such a crush/lust/whathaveyou on a person - real or otherwise. Yes, I realize that Rob Pattinson is a real dude...you know what I mean right? Right? Anyhoo, since I've become so Robsessed I've pre-ordered my movie (which FINALLY came in the mail yesterday btw), the Director's Notebook (no offense, but I probably coulda done without that) and now this: (he's still adorable even with his little Dorothy Hammil haircut)





Hell, he was yummy when I first laid (layed?) eyes on him as Cedric Diggory...

This...not so much. Nips were covered 'cause they gave me the heebs. But, he was a kid who had that girly look to him so I'll let it slide.

This one, well, I'm without words. mmm, mmm, mmm comes to mind. He's scruffy, manly and well, I can't tell you the rest of my thoughts for fear my daughter might one day happen upon this blog and tell on me. It's bad enough I got teased by my husband and kids for hanging my Edward poster up in our office. I told him he could hang up his old Farrah Fawcet poster if he wanted to. I'm fair. I could even score another Pregnant Lady Holding Gun poster if that sort of thing does it for him. Just let me have my Edward poster!!

So now I've pre-orderd the How To Be soundtrack (the movie looks pretty good too) and get to wait foreva for that to come now. Oh Rob, why can't I quit you?? I know us old broads give you the heebs, but that's because you don't know us. Well, me at least, I can't speak for the other old broads since I haven't met most of them but some of them are pretty cool too. You'd like me, I've been told I'm pretty cool for "my age".

There needs to be some sort of AA for Twitards. Or a patch. Or maybe they can do what they do to herion addicts and put me out for 3 days to get it out of my system.

*Tim Stapp was this poor dude that I had a crazy ass crush on my Freshman year in High School. I'll share the story one of these days...it's a doozy lemme tell ya. ;^)

Drool if you want to

If there's one thing I hate it's douche bag boys. In my 34 years I've encountered many a douche bag, but non as douchey as, oh...I can't remember his name...we'll call him Massen...Gil. In 1991 when I was a Jr. in high school ol' Massen was one of those "pretty boys". You remember those dudes, with their Vanilla Ice hair cuts, turtlenecks under their oversized Cosby sweaters listening to the latest song by Color Me Bad. He thought his shit didn't stink. To prove my point further, mommy and daddy bought pretty boy Massen a brand new Mustang GT convertible. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad; it was the vanity license plate that sealed ol' Massen's fate. It said something to the effect of...

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!

And all was right in Brandyland once more

MY SPOT was taken by ME today. Me in MY SPOT = I'm happy. Me not in MY SPOT = Everybody suffers.

'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.

I'm sure you're wondering to yourself, "is that a pregnant broad with a gun?". Yep, sure it. That is an actual law enforcement target. I had to order a bunch of various targets for my rangers at work. I was dumbfounded that they made such a thing so of course I asked for one. This is what was hanging on my wall when I came in this morning. I've got the BEST job!! Now I just need to come up with some witty talk bubbles to stick up there....hmmm. But now I want to be a shooting target model. I wonder how one lands a job like that.

Um, WTF, Really? part two

Here's one to file under "Are you effing kidding me!?!?" This picture was taken from the doorway of my office. Notice the "my spot" circle? Well, that's because that is MY SPOT. Did I get to park there today? Nope. Know why? Some douche took it and the rest of the lot was full. Wanna see where I ended up?



Down here. Yeah that's right. Wanna see what was between MY SPOT and this piece of crap spot?

This for starters.

Can someone just please friggen push me the rest of the way?

Not done yet.

It would probably be best to check the ol' pulse right about now.

Almost done

Four hours later...

Seriously, are you effing kidding me??? I am an office person. Certainly not a walking-up-the-steep-ass-hill to my office person. I am a "secretary spread" havin kind of person. In my family we affectionately refer to it as the "Dobson Ass". Please douche bags, don't take MY SPOT ever again, m'kay?

Go Mee-Ma, it's yo birfday

Well, not really. I still have another 30 days until I turn the big 3-5, but I'm not really counting. I like to think of it as the 14th anniversary of my 21st birthday. Doesn't it sound so much better that way? What I'm excited about is that I now have a whoppin 4 followers on my bliz-ogg! Woo. (Ok, I just want to apologize for actually using the word bliz-og, I can feel my daughter cringing with embarassment as I type this) Anyhoo, I have 4 followers and 3 I don't even know! How cool is that? Thank you three people for taking time out to read my craziness. The 4th is my daddy (he's the monkey head follower - that's really what he looks like too) and he has to read this to make sure I don't incriminate him too badly.

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 :^)

Who woulda thunk...

Huh. I learned something new just now.

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.

Um, WTF, Really?

Ok, sometimes I find it mildly entertaining that I'm the person shit always happens to. Today, not so much. See, as my previous post implies, I am a Twitard. I'm a dork, I own it and that's ok. The Hot Topic dude said so even. So anyway, being the huge Twitard that I am pre-ordered my dvd a LONG time ago. I've been ignoring all the sneak peeks that have been all over the internet showing the extras included on the DVD because I wanted to watch it by myself on my big TV. (Side note, big TV took a crap a few weeks ago so now I'll be watching it on my smaller big TV, but I digress) So imagine my utter astonishment when I received my shipping confirmation in my email this morning:

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.

Shhh! Please don't tell anyone

That A.) I'm bloggin instead of workin and B.) I'm a total Twitard. That tends to get a little embarassing. Especially when my 12 year old calls me on it. Not the bloggin at work part, but my adult-onset Twitardation. I can't help that I have a huge, if not inappropriate crush on a fictional vampire and the sexy beast who plays him. She thinks he's ugly! I know, the nerve on that girl right?? How can anyone think this is any less than mmm, mmm, mmm:






Mommy likey!!

Put it in the vault please m'kay?

Crazy Train Now Boarding

When I was 16 my family and I lived in Hawaii. "Oooh la la", I'm sure you're thinking. Well, think again. I played the part of the angry teenager that season. But that's neither her nore there. Not sure why I even brought it up to tell ya the truth. I have a tendency to vary from my original thought from time to time.

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.

Cue Crickets

I'm almost afraid to mention this for fear y'all take it and run with it. You see, I might be just a tiny bit gullible. For a person who claims to have a pretty good bull shit detector, I can sure fall for some serious total bullshit. For real, once I had a pretty heated arguement with my third grade teacher over whether the world was really round. My dad had told me that the world was flat. Any of you seeing a pattern yet? If I remember correctly we were watching an old movie on TV and when the ship sailed off into the sunset he said, "See how the ship goes off to the side? That's because if it kept on sailing straight it would fall off the Earth." Well, that was all it took. I was sold. The Earth was flat 'cause Daddy said so. I wish I had a camera to take a picture of the look on my teachers face when I called him out on that fact. He even brough out the globe to try to prove to me it was round but I wasn't having any of it.


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?

Don't Judge Me

by who my closet monster used to be. Please. I was a little girl who grew up with a contact high. Of course that was bound to make me just a "tadmartin" paranoid right? Ok, here goes...

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.

My Blog

In Wordle. Wordle to your mutha!

I Am...

in lust

I can't help it. Don't hate please. A girl can dream. Especially me with my crazy nicotine patch dreams. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

Holy Crazy Dreams!

Ok, so I'm off the cancer sticks. Isn't the old saying 7th times a charm? It's been three and a half days since lighting up and oddly I haven't really felt like ripping anyones face off. Well, with the exception of the Walmart greeter yesterday morning. Geesh, I guess you only get a "have a nice day" if you buy something! Apparently if you don't come out of the store with a cart full of crap you get the stinkeye. Nice, Walmart greeter. Thanks for that! You almost ruined my streak.

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!

So a Clown Walks into a Classroom...

I think one of my earliest memories of shit happening to me took place sometime in 1977. I was three years old and going to preschool while my mom took care of my baby sister. It was a fun school from what I could remember, playing, licking crepe paper, dancing to Rita Cooledge, you know, that kind of stuff. But, I was the kid who wouldn't take a nap. Seriously, I was the one who disrupted everyone else. I hated taking naps, I still do for that matter. I'm afraid I might miss something. Anyway, I remember my teacher telling us that a very special guest was going to be waiting for us after naptime. So, they put me in my usual spot in the back room by the kitchen. Really, it was a pretty pimp place to stick a three year old, that was where the graham crackers were! Suckers!! As I lounged in my little cell eating my graham crackers I remember being so excited to see the Easter Bunny. I should probably say now that I'm fairly certain it was summer and no where near Easter, but I was three - cut me some slack! Let me just say that nothing could have prepared me for what would be waiting for us after naptime.

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.

Hell, he might've had those pointy teeth for all I knew but there was no mutha freakin way I was going to get close enough to him to find out. At least that was MY plan; my preschool teacher, however, had other ideas.

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!

Did I really just do that?

My evil Stepmother coined it best. "Brandy, you're just that person that shit always happens to." She said this to me on Christmas a few years ago when I accidently broke one of her wedding presents. Well ok, maybe said wedding present happened to be a heavy crystal glass containing quite possibly the BEST White Russian I've ever tasted. And maybe I'd had 1 or 6 glasses of wine with dinner. And, oh alright, I might've had just a smidge of a "contact high" from the big fat doob Dad was trying to get Granny to hit. I'm telling you, I swear to God I was standing next to a table! I had no idea that was just in my head. So imagine my suprise when I was jerked out of Brandyland to the sound of a crystal glass filled with the BEST White Russian I ever tasted crashing onto the floor of my parents deck! Where'd the friggen table go?

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.