Oh HAIL NO

The Fright Walk = my life.

OMGOSH. SO MANY THINGS TO TELL YOU. First off, it’s June. Second off, it feels like February. Like, it’s been freaking snowing. Which is like, cool and everything but it’s not cool … you know?

Like, ok — on my day off from work yesterday I drove back to my house in the hills with my sister to get what was left of my summer clothes. However, what I was unaware of was that on the drive back to Folsom, I would be caught in the hailstorm straight from hell. You think I’m exaggerating but I’m not. I mean, my knuckles were whiter than the hail balls. NOT. EXAGGERATING.

So just to spice things up, everyone decided to come to a screeching halt at the bottom of this massive hill in mid-shit-ton-of-hail storm. Now, in all honesty, my car isn’t necessarily the most … um … “treadworthy” of cars if I may. So needless to say as I began to apply pressure to the break (in a COMPLETELY calm, not-freaking-out, lady-like fashion) my little blue car began to glide gently towards to cars spinning off the road in front of me. Not to be outdone, my car began to spin off the road — also, in a lady-like, elegant fashion. But of course, being the expert driver/human being that I am I handled the situation perfectly. And by that I mean after doing a complete 180 and taking out 953 orange cones, I sat on the side of the freeway silently staring wide-eyed out the window as my sister searched my blood-drained face for signs of life.

After my vital organs began functioning again, I restarted the car and continued on my merry little way — past the rest of the car carnage at the bottom of that demon-seed hill.

A little cherry on top of that sundae was the fact that over the past three weeks I have had a dull-ache on my right side that decided to go ahead and become HUGE-STUPID-APPENDICITIS-LIKE-ACHE 2011 about a day and a half ago. So today I went ahead and ducked out of work early to make a trip to the E.R. Which is always a good time. Also, I’m pretty sure the receptionist has something against 23-year-old-girls with appendicitis because she made me wait like, an hour and a half and let the 20-something guy with appendicitis go right on in like 10 minutes after he got there. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for flirting with cute guys at work but not when you’re also flirting with my life. Ok great.  

And when I went up to the counter to ask her just WHY I was the one waiting so long to get my obviously exploding appendix out she responded with something I didn’t expect. She said, with as much attitude as she could muster, “you’re going to have to wait just a minute. We put people into pods.”

I stared back at her with a look that I was hoping expressed, “is that another term for ‘pain-bracket’ or do you literally put people into bean pods?” And she responded with a stare that said, “bitch, you better get up out.” Not wanting to argue/stare further, I sat down.

Eventually they called me in. It’s not appendicitis — it’s a stupid cyst. I go in for further testing tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I’m going to work on a stare that says, “I’m going to sue you if you don’t call my name right this second.” That one will take some time.

The Tree of DEATH.

Look at it ... standing there all self-righteous. HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT OUR LIVES/FAMILY GUY.
Also, I took this picture.  

Hey guyyyyyssss. So did we all survive THE RAPTURE FROM HELL? Or I guess it would be from heaven. Whatever. Well I know I did. Except the internet was out when I got back to my house. Which is basically like hell on Earth. Also, NASCAR was on. Which is also lik— wait … maybe … I, what … OH MY HOLY CRAP DID THE DEMONS RISE FROM BENEATH WHILST THE HEAVENS OPENED THEIR GLORIOUS BOUGHS TO THE BLESSED BE ON EARTH? … thus, um … disabling wi-fi? Perhaps.

Also, something important to note — when I say that I “went back to my house,” that is indeed because we are living at our house no longer. “Why is this so?,” you may ponder. WELL, PONDER NO LONGER. It’s because this freakin’ tree fell on our house like, 2 months ago. I KNOW RIGHT??

Here is the story.

So, there we were (mom, dad, sister, self) sitting on the couch watching Family Guy when ALL OF A SUDDEN the microwave goes off. AND THEN … my dad got up to go check on the banana bread. Oh and then the tree fell on our house. All’s I remember is feeling something super heavy hit me in the face/arm. Now, I say, face/arm because at that particular moment in time, my face and arm existed as one entity as my superhuman reflexes forced me to cover my moneymaker with every limb I had available … which was three at the time seeing as one of my legs had fallen asleep moments before.

Now my sister on the other hand got hit square in the face. When I looked over at her seconds after performing “essential body parts roll-call” on myself, I noticed that her glasses had been pushed into her nose as there was a decent amount of blood streaming forth from … well, um … the top of her nose.

My mom was cool though. Also, my dad was still in the kitchen baking. He later disclosed that he thought it was something on the TV to which I rhetorically asked what exact episode of Family Guy he thought we were watching.

Also, our cats didn’t come upstairs for like, two weeks.

So yeah, that’s the story. And now we live in a hotel in Folsom until our house is fixed in like, two months. Oh and the hole in our ceiling sort of looks like genitalia. 

RIGHT?! --->

Seventeen Again

The date of my birth is located somewhere in this picture I took on Pacific Coast Hwy.
So I'm either 23 or 1652 years old.

My mama turned 50 today. She was born on Mother’s day. She has six brothers and sisters. Uncle Jim was born on Thanksgiving, Aunt Sandra was Christmas Eve, and Uncle Jeff was New Years Eve. They are a family of holidays. I have absolutley no idea the significance of any of that. But it’s a cool thing to mention if your conversation ever hits a lull.

Example:

Fellow party goer: “So …um, I hear they’re repaving the road across from Walma-“

Me: “ALL OF MY AUNTS AND UNCLES HAVE HOLIDAY BIRTHDAYS.”

I’ve been known to be awkward at parties. And by awkward I mean the life of the party.

So anyways, my mama decided to spend this joyous halfway mark at the mall … ehhh. I mean, the mall is ok for like, 10 minutes and then I’m over it. HARD. I don’t know why I don’t share the passion for twitting around their little commercial domes that most people possess — I just don’t. Maybe it was all the countless childhood hours I had to spend with my mom in the dressing room at JCPenny watching her try on one shoulder-padded monstrousity after the next while my little 5 year-old body wanted to explode with boredom. I was five and I knew shoulder pads were a bad choice — FIVE.

Plus, half the population of Earth was there today. You heard me right — 3.5 BILLION PEOPLE WERE SHOPPING AT THE ROSEVILLE GALLERIA. It made parking super difficult.

Also, I tried to (finally) buy a cover for my iPhone but as it turns out, about three-quarters of the population I quoted above was actually shopping in the Apple store so that was good times. Two hours after entering the iEmporium, I actually managed to squeeze my way to the phone-cover section. As my eager eyes grazed over the endless choices that lay before me I began to feel joy. It was the sort of joy one can only experience immediately prior to overspending for something you definitley don’t need. But then I felt despair. The sort of despair you experience upon realizing that they don’t make iPhone covers for a 3GS anymore.

And then I saw it. The single cover left that was made specifically for my little outdated electronic device. It was really ugly though. BUT I CARED NOT. As I reached out for it’s slightly scratched box and lifted it from its hook, the hook decided to come with it — and then subsequently fall off taking out all the covers that lay below/in its path. And if anyone of you ever wonders how you silence 2.625 billion people then you should just go ahead and follow the exact steps I have outlined above. And yes, I did just have to get a calculator to figure out what 75% of 3.5 was because math is in the axis of evil. Everyone knows that.

Needless to say I handled the situation flawlessly. And by that I mean I acted like I didn’t do it and left immediately.

Oh and I found out that my mom doesn’t know how old I am exactly. So if she asks, tell her I’m 17. Or maybe 31 … I can’t decide.

Happy Birthday mama ;) 

A Tale of Two Women. One of whom was bitch.

I made this. Not that it's like, a big deal. But I made it. So compliment me. Now.

AGHIPNIPQWHR9Q73YR2N3E91P219J01RJOQ3NDQJ.

What if that’s all I posted? You guys would be SO mad. Actually probably not. You’d probably be relieved. Well I’m posting more so you can all suck it.

Ok so this weekend was just … I mean … it was just. So as you all may know I work part time at a store up where I live and this weekend I was helping out our florist as it was prom for two high schools, Mothers day, and some stupid art festival. So just like, the perfect storm of crap. Like, I’m serious, it was Def Com 5 in the floral department. I don’t even know what Def Com 5 means but there were leaves, and ribbons, and Asiatic lilies flying everywhere.

Plus there was this one bitch. It took every fiber of every fiber I had within me not to throw a blown glass vase at her head. First off, she was a bitch — which I believe I mentioned. Second off (<- that sounds awkward) she had us completely redo her daughter’s corsage when it was clear that we had 12378645983 other people waiting. And third off, it takes like a good 15-20 minutes to make one of those bad boys. — NOT an easy task. And let me just tell you all the reason WHY she wanted it completely taken apart. The tiny purple flowers in the background were not facing COMPLETELY forward. Literally, they were tilted ever so slightly to the side. And THEN she had the balls to say that her daughter was waiting for her to take pictures and we needed to hurry up. Only the Lord knows how I didn’t pop the eff off on this B but I didn’t. I held my composure while thinking, “your daughter is going to be grinding to Kanye West in like, an hour and a half and isn’t going to give two shits which way her purple flowers are facing on her damn wrist.” But I said nothing and had the floral manager finish it off while I moved onto the next.

As the day winded down and the irate people began to fade into the mist, a customer waiting for her boutonnière (<- thank YOU spell check) told us she had some shopping to do but would be right back. Approximately 10 minutes later she returned to pick up her tiny floral arrangement and handed us a tray of three mocha frappuccinos (<- spell check has no spelling suggestions for that one — sorry I’m not sorry).  She said it was for, “doing such a great job and putting up with bitchy people.” As we thanked her incessantly and she began to walk away from our hellish domain, I thought I heard (ever so quietly), the angels begin to sing. I could be wrong. Except I’m not. She simultaneously renewed my faith in man kind and got me jacked up on sugar. A saint, a saint.

Also, I heard that other bitch’s corsage fell apart when she put it on her daughter. I have no idea why that would have happened. Or do I? Nah, I don’t. 

BLOGGG-GUH

SEE. I'm not shallow. I post deep pictures about life and crap. 

Oh my God. It’s been forever. What’s new with you guys? That’s cool. So here’s what’s new with me. WHERE TO START.

Ok so I had to get a little part time job here in town which is actually pretty great because it’s forced me to scrape my fat ass off the couch and actually exercise and crap. Also, I’ve made new friends. Also, I got into the University of Glasgow’s MFA in Creative Writing program (or “programme” as they say … god they are so barbaric right?!? …). So, I mean that’s pretty great. I’m of course expecting every man to resemble Gerard Butler/James McAvoy. I’m not sure what exactly that combo would look like but I’d still date it. That means I’m not shallow. Because I don’t care about what it would look like. Yeah.

Oh and by the by, I’ve had like, at LEAST three people tell me (seriously) that I’m going to need to learn Scottish. Like, SERIOUSLY. On all three occasions I’ve tried not to laugh in their face/apologize for the miserable failure their elementary school education proved to be.

My point is I’m pumped. I actually almost just typed, “pimped” — which I also am. But that’s a different story.

Oh and I kinda met somebody. Which I was also pimped about for a while. It sorta started around November-ish I guess. It wasn’t the dude in the last post. Long story short, we became good friends (ish) and now he’s gone. I would disclose more but since I’m a lady (ish) I won’t. Nothing really ever happened. It always seemed to be on the cusp (ß funny word) of something but then it just ended. I don’t know — it was kind of weird. Guys are weird. If I ever get drunk and get the urge to blog then I’ll tell you all about it. Actually, intoxicated blogging would be kind of fun … I wonder what I would say …  hMMmMMMm. It’d be more interesting than this crap. Just kidding. This is really interesting.