Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Z is for Zoo

     When I was almost six until I was barely eight, my mom used to work in one of the biggest zoos in America. A kid's movie was filmed there, while she worked there. No, she wasn't in it. I think she was too busy hiding in the gift shop that she worked in because she hates camera and she hated that particular show. I'm going to tell you her top three favorite zoo stories, with my own added things.


3)  Momma had a friend who worked at the zoo, thanks to her friends who were in security. The friend was a biker dude who worked in the animal hospital at the zoo. Every time there was a new baby born, the gift shop cashier who wasn't supposed to be around them, got to sneak in and hold all of the babies. One of the first African elephants born in captivity (that lived) was on that list. I knew about it before the rest of the world did, because Momma came home and bragged that she got to see the elephant within two days that it was born, before it was announced to everyone else.

    Siberian tiger cubs were also on the list of animals that she got to see before everyone else (which I'm still jealous about). So were baby American alligators. Momma got to hold them when they were still newborns. A couple of weeks later, there was a big Halloween event at the zoo that I got to go to. The lady working asked kids to go up from the crowd to prove hold the alligator baby. I was the only one without my hand raised. Momma had it set up so not only was I picked, but the photographer took a picture of it, all without telling me until after the fact.


2)  Momma would take shortcuts through the exhibits to get from each gift shop, or the various food stands, or where ever else she needed to go. One short cut that she took every single day was through the monkey and gorilla exhibit. When she worked there, there was one silverbacked gorilla. Every single time she walked through the exhibit, he was up at the glass, waiting for her. He would put his hand on one side of the glass and hold it there until he did the same. But he never did it for anyone else.

    We moved when I was eight and since I wasn't in town, I wasn't able to go to the zoo until we moved back. My friend and her family invited me to go when I was ten, so of course I agreed to go. Her brother played catch with a baby gorilla and then we went inside, where we could see them up close instead of from above. A silverbacked gorilla was sitting in there. Kids were screaming everywhere and trying to get to him. He walked over to where I was and put his hand on the glass, and left it there until I did the same. In the summer of 2009, I went back with my cousins, and the only silverbacked gorilla followed me around every time I walked within view. They didn't want to stay inside though, so I never got to know if he really remembered me still.


1)  Every day at lunch, Momma went to the restaurant there (at the time there was one, now there are several). A little squirrel became her friend. She went and sat at one table in the back, facing the forest. The squirrel sat and just stared at her, until she tossed over a piece of her cinnamon roll. The next day, the same thing happened, and every day after that. Not too long after, the squirrel was waiting at the edge of the forest and would race Momma to the table. Eventually, it would take the cinnamon roll right out of her fingers, but Momma never pet it. They just had lunch together every day.

   When I went to the zoo with my friend and her family, there was a squirrel sitting in the trees and watching us. It kept inching closer until we tossed some fries to it. My friend tossed chicken nuggets to it, which it ate as well. I know that it's probably not the same squirrel but I'd like to think it is.


     That's it. The A to Z Challenge is officially over this year! I can't believe that I made it through with everything that's happened this month. Thank you for all of your comments and coming back every day to see what I posted. A big, special thank you to everyone who didn't ditch my blog after my two days of ranting and on my crappier posts. And a huge thank you to everyone who helped me pick my topics.

     I also want to add, that my favorite stories are #2, #3, and then #1. Momma has it out of order for her favorites but oh well. If I go back to the zoo one day, I'll be sure to tell you all about it, and actually have pictures for you.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Y is for You-Know-Who

     Ashley suggested this post. I think she wanted me to do a Harry Potter theme but maybe if you comment on her blog, she'll join the Challenge next year with that theme instead.

     Two days until the end of the Challenge and I completely forgot about it, which is ironic since I forgot about NaBloPoMo two or three days end. Lets see what kind of post I can come up with in thirty minutes, shall we?

     You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are two things that Voldemort is known by. First of all, I have to give props to JK Rowling for typing out both of those upteenmillion times in the books because putting a hyphen after every word is really annoying after a while. No wonder she was all about using his actual name. (As quoted from Dumbledore, "Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.")

     One thing that I never liked about Voldemort, was the fact that he had a nose in the first movie but not in any of the others. Like... Did he just happen to have it cut off or something? I don't understand that and he doesn't need a nose. He looks snake and snakes are typically associated with being evil, so he doesn't need the nose. Bad call on that one, people in charge of the first movie.

     Besides the whole nose thing, I think he is one of the most well thought out villains in a series of books. There's always a reason for his returning, or an explanation for it, as opposed to move sequels that just say he can't die because he's immortal or whatever. His goals never change but his motives of going about it do. Tim Marvolo Riddle actually spells out "I am Lord Voldemort", which is just a clever idea.

     I can't imagine the time and energy that JK Rowling put into the work to make Voldy such a good bad guy. All I can say is that Stephanie Meyer could learn A LOT from that lady and needs to stop acting like she is the next JK Rowling. No, if you're the creator of Harry Potter and Voldemort, then you're never going to be replaced or forgotten.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

X is for X's Vs O's

Wolfy is the one who suggested this topic. I'm not sure he realized this is what would happen when I made Momma play Tic Tac Toe with me. (Click the pictures to read everything.)















Friday, April 26, 2013

W is for What A Day

     This is more of an update post, continued from my rant yesterday. I just don't have the energy or patience  or brain power to write out an awesome story post right now. I will promise a decent non-ranty post for Z though. For X and Y, I have no idea. Please bear with me.

     I live thirty minutes away from work and without Mr Fix-It to bring me home, my only real option was going to be to quit the job I have now and find something closer to home. The thing is, I like where I work. I'm good at the job and I know what I'm doing. My bosses know me and like me and are, usually, pretty awesome people who are willing to help me out when I need it.

     I got an interview for a restaurant on Monday, which is good. But tonight, I was going to be stuck taking a taxi from the restaurant back home. I would end up paying more to be brought home than I would actually make. When I was off, I texted Mom to call the taxi for me and went into the office to wait.

     The lady manager asked where Mr Fix-It was. I said that he left already and tried to leave it at that, because I don't want my personal problems getting involved in work. She went into a panic of how I was getting home. When I told her it was a taxi, she made me call my mom and then she started off with, "Hey girl". Then she proceeded to yell at my mom. It went something like this:

     "She does not make enough! She will NOT be taking a taxi home! I will give her some gas money so she can have somebody bring her home. Rachel will NOT take a taxi home. I'll get her a ride. CANCEL THE TAXI, NOW." and then she hung up.

     Then she put out an SOS throughout the entire restaurant staff to find me a ride. One cook said, "I know where that is. I'll take her home." and came back two minutes later to say, "I don't have my car today. I'm sorry." One of the servers promised to take me home as soon as his last table left, the same server who gave the same offer when Mr Fix-It couldn't get off work and I was stuck waiting for three hours. Old Boss Man offered a ride when he got off and offered to call his wife, Old Boss Lady, to give me a ride. The bus boy was the one who was the one who brought me home.

     At the restaurant, the lady manager kicked everyone else out of the office and asked me what was going on. It's got nothing to do with me but its being taken out on me. Not only that, but its affecting how things are at work, since he won't look at me or talk to me at all. So I told her everything that I knew and she was completely shocked about all of it.

     She told me that she'll put me on the day shift to start working as a server, so Mom can at least see to drive and pick me up. Or maybe I can keep giving gas money to have somebody bring me home. I'm on the night shift for the next two weeks so I'll either have to get somebody to cover my shift or get a ride home from somebody there, until I'm put on the day shift.

     I'm not sure how long I'm going to actually be able to stay at the restaurant, but I want to at least give it a few weeks to see if I'll make enough money and get enough hours. If I have no other choice, then I'll get a different job, but at least I know there are people who will help me out for now.

     As I was writing this, Mr Fix-It actually came by and knocked on the door. He wouldn't look at me and he wouldn't talk to me. He only spoke to Mom and he kept his eyes on literally everything except us. He said he just wanted to make sure I was home fine, and I said, "I'm pissed but I'm okay." Then he asked if I was pissed at him and I told him yes. The asshole actually asked why.

     "Because this has nothing to do with me. I'm not in your business for whatever is going on over at your house and its being taken out on me. You screwed me over and I had no way to get home tonight because of you. You don't want to be friends? Fine. We won't be friends but you can at least look at me and talk to me. I am still a person." Considering I asked Wolfy if I was allowed to kick Mr Fix-It's ass, I think I behaved pretty well.

     He offered to keep giving me a ride home but said we aren't going to be friends, that he just wants to make sure Mom doesn't drive at night and that I'm safe. I told him I'm switching to the day shift as soon as I can and until then, I'll get a ride from whoever else I can and I'll give them the gas money, which he never let me pay him.

     At one point, he even said that he was mad at me for talking to the lady manager about everything. I'm not the one who brought it into the restaurant, or into Mom's office. I didn't start this shit and I will not allow him to make it look like I'm the bad guy. Its not like I sought her out to speak. He's the one who was a jerk and made everyone go into a panic about how I was getting home. She got worried and maybe she can get through to him since nobody else can.

     Tomorrow, Momma and I are going to talk to the lady manager together about all of this. And the lady manager is going to talk to Mr Fix-It about getting his head surgically removed from his ass because he needs to treat me like a person.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

V is for Very Very Angry

     I'm going to give you guys a heads up right now. This will be a very angry, drama-filled rant about things that have been happening in the past couple weeks (mainly focusing on the last few days) that have made me very, very angry. I need to vent (again) and I want to make sure that you guys know that this will be angry and probably contain a lot of curse words. I recently started following a lot of very positive, upbeat, happy blogs who comment back and I don't want anyone getting offended or anything because those nice blogs have really nice people that I like and don't want to upset. (Longest sentence ever. Not even sorry.)

     For those of you who don't know, Mr Fix-It is (was?) my friend. I work with him a the restaurant and he works for my mom as a maintenance man. He's the one who did all of the work fixing up the trailer I was going to move in to, before I realized I'm too broke so both my mom and I moved in. (That's how he got his name on here because he can fix anything.)

     My mom nicknamed his (now ex) girlfriend, Shorty. She was the translator for a while but she started sticking her nose where it didn't belong so she was fired. Even so, she was there for me when I got my concussion and needed an emergency ride to the hospital at midnight. But she likes to spread rumors and talk about people and just generally demand everyone to do things for her. (More than once, she called Mr Fix-It in from working outside for the Park and told him to go to the store for her, to the house, to give her a ride, to go fill up her gas tank, etc, when Mom told her she could go do whatever, not him.)

     He got tired of all of that and broke up with her, which we were all honestly just waiting for. I barely knew him before I started at the restaurant in October but we actually became pretty good friends since he always took me home. The restaurant is half an hour just to get there and another half an hour just to get home. I don't have a license. My mom is night blind. Most the people I work with are bitches and nobody lives on this side of town anyways. He became pretty good friends with my mom because he works for her.

     Since breaking up with her, multiple times since she does not seem to get the message, neither of them has moved out of the trailer they share. She is jobless and he promised to take care of her financially until she figures something out. She has threatened to kill herself. She has scratched her arms up, but only in front of people. She has choked him, which caused him to leave a bruise on her arm in self defense. She has gotten with a new guy to make him jealous and told said new guy, that Mr Fix-It was beating her. She has told everyone she knows that he's trying to be with I-don't-even-know how many people. I'm sure there's more but you get the idea.

     Tuesday, he got drunk and left the Park in his truck. He called Mom and we're still not sure what happened but he kept saying vaguely suicidal things. He said he's poison, he said he can't have friends because he ruins their lives, he said that he's a bad person and he just wanted to go away. Then the asshole hung up on her and disappeared. Not one word from him Wednesday. I was ready to start calling the hospital and morgues because he doesn't have family here to do that.

     This morning, Mom went to the office to find that he gave back the spare key to our house (he's the only one we trusted with it). He won't look at us. He won't talk to us. He got into some sort of argument with Mom's boss. And, after questioning him for five minutes, he finally told Mom that he won't give me a ride home anymore, despite the fact that I can walk to his house in less than two minutes so its not like he's going out of his way.

     I don't even know where to fucking begin with this. I just... I want to punch every jerk involved in this. Shorty, for being a selfish, whiny, needy bitch who needs to grow the fuck up and act like the 30-something year old that she is.

     Not only that, but its because of bitches like her that depression and self harm aren't taken seriously. She's doing it for attention, to get him back and guilt him into staying. That is what every person who actually suffers is accused with because of bitches like her. (I would like it to be noted that she never once said anything vaguely depressed until he broke up with her and she only scratches herself in front of him and she can turn her tears on and off like a switch.)

     Mr Fix-It. Where can I start? Well, I would like to kick his ass because he completely fucked me over with my job. Let's forget the fact that he was the best friend I had who actually lived in this damn state and he's acting like that. Never mind that fact for a minute.

     Let's just focus on the fact that he wasn't even going to tell me that I wasn't going to have a ride home, that I was just going to find out when I got off work and that I had no way to get home. I make five dollars an hour, plus tips. I am lucky to work three hours a night, three nights a week. I don't make enough money to cover gas for my mom to drive all the way to the restaurant and all the way back home, then all the way back again. If she stays, I'll be the first one sent home, within the hour.

     You know what that means? I am losing my job because of their bullshit. I don't make enough money and I will not get enough hours to pay for everything. The only way I would make enough is if I get the big parties that have huge tips, but I'm not even trained as a server yet, so that isn't going to happen any time soon. Its a waste of gas, time, and money for me to stay there. Where my bosses love me, the customers (usually) love me, where I know what I'm doing, where I know the restaurant and the food and how everything works. Because of shit that has nothing to do with me.

     I'm already applying for other jobs and as soon as I get one, I have to quit the job I have now. I know I complain about it and the people I work with, but I actually like working there. I'm good at it and I know how things work. I have to relearn everything, some place else, where I might not be lucky to have bosses that like me.

     I don't want to hear "it'll all work out" and "things happen for a reason". I know all of that. Its not easy to always remember that but I know it. That does not change the fact that I am straight out pissed right now and those two bitches better avoid me or there is no telling what I'm going to say, but I can basically guarantee I'll regret saying it later.

P.S. I started filling out job applications today. One restaurant set up an interview for Monday right away, so that looks pretty good. I also know a couple people who work in the restaurant next door to it so that could also be promising.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

U is for Underground And Unrelated News

     I would just like it to be noted here that Wolfy gave me a bunch of different U words last night because I didn't have any topic for this letter. Also, Momma is watching Unsolved Mysteries and that starts with U so I thought it was funny. (If you want to read about unsolved mysteries, then you should check out this blog. It's been one of my absolute favorites during the A-Z Challenge.)

     A few years ago, when I was about fifteen (Mom and I just spent like five minutes trying to figure it out; I could've been fourteen but probably not), my dad wanted to see me for Thanksgiving. He drove down from where he was staying with his brother's wife's family (and my uncle, my aunt, and my cousin, of course) and picked me up. It was a last minute thing by the time I actually got to the destination and got to sleep, I was pushing 72 hours of no sleep. There was a lot of packing and other things that I can't remember because that was five years ago.

     I really can't remember a lot from those four days though. I didn't even remember much when I got back home, but that's probably from the lack of sleep that I had while I was there. I specifically remember my cousin watching Cartoon Network and passing out on the couch because I was so exhausted and bored.

     I also remember watching Ghost Ship for the first time and my cousin wasn't allowed to watch it with me. My friend recommended the movie but failed to warn me about the naked chick that appeared halfway through. Its a good thing my uncle was like "NO! NO! You cannot watch that movie. Go pick another horror movie and leave your cousin alone tonight."

     The best thing I remember about that trip, though, was we went to the longest cave system in the United States (or that's what I remember being told). We started off just walking into the mouth of the cave, but we were told that we were going underground.

     Every so often, I could feel a slant in the ground, but it just felt normal and flat. Lights were throughout the entire place but they were shut off in one room, just for a minute, and we could not see a thing in front of us. You don't know what dark is until you've been in something like that and its pretty terrifying, and disorienting.

     I think, the room we were in, was being dug up for some reason. I want to say that they had discovered some artifacts or something in there, but I honestly can't remember. I do remember thinking that they probably found an old burial ground in there but that might be because I watched a scary movie a day or two right before then.

     In another room, it was leaking because it had recently rained, but the water was just making its way down to the cave. In the very last room, we saw little bitty bats sleeping on the cave walls. I wanted to pet one but the lady said that if we woke them up during winter, then they would end up losing hibernation and that could kill them. I didn't pet them.

     We walked a long way. Either we walked two miles total or we ended up two miles underground, in which we had to take a staircase to get out of a second entrance in the cave. That was my least favorite part. There were a lot of stairs. I'm almost certain my dad stayed behind me the entire time because I cannot be trusted on staircases.

     It was a lot of fun and I wish I would have had a camera of some type to take pictures, but that was before I even had a phone (and a camera phone wasn't until a year after that). However, I don't like the whole claustrophobia of going underground, so I'm not sure that will happen again any time soon.

     Also, completely Unrelated News (it starts with a U, give me some credit). The A Beer For The Shower Boys (Brandon and Bryan) have written another novel. This one is called "Lost and Found" and its unlike anything they've written before. Or, they say it is. I haven't read it yet, but everything they write is always amazing. Go get the book here on Amazon for a digital copy or here for a paperback version. Write about their book and you might win a free copy. Information for that is here, but who doesn't love free shit?

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

T is for Tigers

     Tigers are my favorite animal. I used to have a custom tiger poster that my grandma made, when she still owned her own printing/computer design business.

     I would like to introduce you to Teo and Taz. (Its pure irony that they both start with T. The tigers have names on their tags and the irony is just awesome.)

     Wolfy got them both for me. Teo is the one in the hat I sometimes wear. He was my first Valentine's present that wasn't from school or my mom, before Wolfy and I were even together.

     Taz is the one in the bandana that he's wearing like a cape. (I don't wear the bandana but its plaid so I like it.) He was for my nineteenth birthday last year (along qith The Hunger Games movie).

     Apparently, being all dressed up, they are gangster tigers. That means they'll kick your ass...or at least protect me from any monsters under the bed, right?

P.S. Since they're on the shelf in my closet, they probably keep the monsters out of there too. Either way, they make me happy.

Monday, April 22, 2013

S is for Sequels

     There were a few topics that I was considering for the letter S, but none of them were that exciting. I considered talking about shooting/guns (oooh, controversy!) or a little about the school that I'm doing, since I never really talk much about it. There were a few other topics that I usually thought of when something happened (which I can't remember right now, of course) but then I was watching TV with Momma one night and suddenly had an idea.

     I am all for creating movie and book sequels. Well, as long as the story is good. Some stories just need to be ended. Like, I would love for there to be another Harry Potter or Lion King but I do not want there to be another Twilight or Friday The 13th.

     If you're one of the few people who hasn't read or watched Twilight, my friend Ashley did a summery of the books in a blog post. It will take you less than two minutes to read and it will tell you everything you need to know. Click here.

     Friday The 13th... I can understand the original movie. Kid dies in a lake because his councilors are too busy having sex to watch him. Kid comes back to haunt the councilors at the camp after that because he died. That's a pretty basic scary movie plot. Then you get to the thirty sequels.

     Why would anyone go back to the lake after teenagers are getting murdered there constantly? Like, obviously teens are going there and never returning. In the second one, they even said that the bodies were found the year before. Clearly, something is wrong, but for the next billion movies, everyone goes back to the camp because it just can't possibly be true!

     I just spent twenty minutes on Google looking for a quote from NCIS. One of the characters (Abby) tried to explain the Friday the 13th movies to another character (Gibbs) and it was just the perfect way to prove my point. But I can't find the stupid quote. I tried though.

     Back to my point.

     There are some things, which do not need to have a bunch of stories made after them. There never should have been a second Pocahontas movie or two more Cinderella movies. (I know. You're all in shock because I'm obsessed with Disney.) There doesn't need to be another Steel Magnolias (I told Mom to name a movie. It was that or Top Gun.)

     We get it. You made a shitton of money with the first movie. Good for you. That does not mean you need to make a sequel and a sequel for that sequel because sometimes, the story line is just done. It's time to move on and just admire the movie/book that was so successful, without wearing it down and making it the most predictable thing ever.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

R is for Rabbit

     (Please excuse any typos and tha lack of format on this post. I'm on my phone because I have company who is having a bad couple days and needs to talk.)

     Mr Fix-It found a rabbit hopping around the trailer park. So, like literally EVERY other maintence guy who has ever worked for Momma, he brought the rabbit to us. Actually he brought the rabbit to the office and Momma called me to go hold onto it so he could go back to work.

     They said that it had to be wild because of the coloring. I said that it had to be tamed because of how calm and sweet it was. Mr Fix-It didn't believe me because who would let a rabbit outside, unsupervised, in a place full of bad kids, vehicles, dogs, and cats?

     Momma locked up the office and we decided to take it to the no-kill shelter down the road. Leaving the park, the rabbit started violently licking my arm, like it was saying, "I WILL LOVE YOU WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."

     One woman at the shelter tried to argue with Momma and say they wouldn't take it. Another lady came out to the car to see how big it was and if it was tame or not. (Wild rabbits need to be taken to a wild animal rescue group. They cannot handle the stress of a cage and usually die, even if they're healthy, if not given to the right people.)

     The second woman took the rabbit inside and Momma followed her to go sign the paperwork to give him up. The director saw the rabbit and said, "I just paid off the credit cards and I promised my wife I wouldn't run them up again but that's a pure bred red rex and I want him." The rabbit had a home before Momma even signed the paperwork.

     I found out later that the owner who had the rabbit is not a good animal home. The rabbit was underweight and the owner lets her three year old play in the street. So there's no need to worry about somebody missing the bunny.






Friday, April 19, 2013

Q is for Questions

     In my P post, I asked for ya'll to send me questions for me to answer in this post. I wasn't sure that I would end up with enough questions so I asked Sissi and Ashley specifically to ask me some things that I could post on here. Sissi was awesome and sent me three. Ashley sent me eight hundred. I am not even kidding. I would put screen shots up but that would take too long.

     I will post all of Ashley's questions at the bottom of this post. I will not be offended at all if you completely ignore this post. We decided to both accept the challenge and answer them all. Sissi's questions will be first and then Ashley's. That way you know where to look and don't have to read through eight hundred freaking questions. I will also try to keep all my answers short.

     Kidding. I won't post them all in one post. I'll split it up and post them randomly. But the rest was completely serious. Eight hundred freaking questions. But its a good thing I asked them if they had any questions for me to use because nobody else asked me anything. (If anyone does want to ask me something but haven't, then feel free. It's not a one time thing. I am always open to questions.)

Sissi Asked:

Favorite holiday?
     Halloween for fun, but Christmas for the meaning.

Favorite kind of food (Chinese, Thai, Italian, Mexican, etc)?
     I think I would have to say Chinese. I'm kind of sick of Italian food but that's probably because I work in an Italian restaurant.

Worst medical experience?
     I don't quite understand this question. Worst experience with a doctor is when I was two and went to the ER for stomachaches. I was crying and the doctor hit me in the stomach and told me to shut up. He lost his job. Worst experience otherwise would either be the stress stomachaches I got in 7th grade, which caused me to drop out, or the concussion I got last October. I did break my ankle when I was four but I don't remember it being that bad.


Ashley Asked:

1) Whats your (full) name?
     Rachel, as far as this blog is concerned. My middle name and last name are both mentioned in my old posts, just not together. If you really want, you can go look for them. =)

2) How old are you?
     19.

3) Whats your birthday?
     September 22

4) What starsign does that make it?
     Virgo.

5) Whats your favorite color?
     Purple.

6) Whats your lucky number?
     I don't think I have one. I like the numbers 2 and 14 though.

7) Do you have any pets?
     Yes.

8) Where are you from?
     All over the southern states. I moved around a lot.

9) How tall are you?
     5' 5 1/2"

10) What shoe size are you?
     Between a 7 and an 8, depending on the type of shoe.

11) How many pairs of shoes do you own?
     Seven, I believe, but I'm not getting up to go count.

12) If you were prime minister/ruler of the world, what rules would you make?
     Bullying would be punishable by two years in prison. Community service would be mandatory by everyone over the age of fifteen, for one day a week. And everyone would have to read Harry Potter (Momma).

13) If you were a super hero, what powers would you have?
     Being able to teleport places so that I never have to take another plane again.

14) And what would your name be?
     "OHMYGOSHWHEREDIDYOUCOMEFROM?" because that's what everyone would say when I just pop out of nowhere.

15) And what outfit would you wear?
     Whatever I happen to be wearing that day. Changing clothes seems like a waste of time when you have to save somebody's life.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

P is for Poll

     Ashley and I started having polls on here, as a competition. We'll pick a topic where our opinions are different and then I'll put the poll up, without saying which one of us picked what. Then we let anyone who stops by my blog decide who will win.

This is our first poll. I picked "bitch" and she picked "whore".

These were the comments that were posted on the poll.

     I won the first poll that we had. It started off with us just wanting to see what people would really prefer to be called but then we decided it was fun so we set up a second one.

I picked "The Lion King" and Ashley picked "The Little Mermaid". I threw in "Dumbo" because it's my mom's favorite and "Snow White" because it's the original Disney movie.
One of the "Lion King" votes is not valid because I asked Brother to vote for his favorite, but he wasn't sure how and ended up doing both commenting and actually voting. So its 7 votes for "The Lion King", not 8 like it would be with the comment.
     In honor of yesterday's post, I decided that I would do a Harry Potter themed poll. I actually don't even know what Ashley's favorite is and I actually announced my favorite in yesterday's post. But since people have had no problem disagreeing with that in the comments, I decided it wouldn't make it unfair.

     Now, tell me your favorite Harry Potter books by voting in the poll! (Its located in the top right corner of my blog, for those of you who missed it.)

P.S. Momma, if you need to ask which one is which for the movie, I'll tell you. But its not fair since you haven't seen all of the movies or read the books. What are you waiting for? A bacon bribe?

P.S. #2 VERY IMPORTANT. For tomorrow's Q post, I thought about doing a questions post. You can ask me any questions that you want and I'll answer them tomorrow! (This might change if I don't get enough questions, but I would like to do this because Q is a REALLY hard letter.) I NEED YOU TO ASK ME THINGS PEOPLE.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

O is for Order Of The Phoenix

     Ashley suggested A LOT of Harry Potter topics that start with O and this is the one that I chose. Go comment on her blog to convince her to do the A-Z Challenge next year with a Harry Potter theme.

     Not sure who doesn't know any of this (except my mom), but there are Harry Potter spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

     For those of you who don't know (Momma) the Harry Potter series is in this order:
1) Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (or Philosophizer's Stone, for those of you not in America)
2) Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
3) Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
4) Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
5) Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
6) Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
7) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (parts one and two for the movies)

     The third one was my favorite book for a long time, simply because Hermione punched Malfoy. That and the reason that Harry finally had somebody who he could call family. But mostly because Hermione punched Malfoy. My cousin and I thought that was the best thing ever when we saw it in the theater.

     Then the fifth movie came along. I personally think that is by far, the most confusing book and movie out of them all. They all have twists and surprises, but I think that was just a generally confusing book. I went to see it in the theater at midnight with a friend and her dad. They were huge Harry Potter fans and read everything, saw everything, etc. Even her dad said that if you didn't read the book first, you wouldn't understand the fifth movie.

     It bothered me when Cedric died in the fourth book. Then I read the fifth book and I decided I absolutely hated it and did not want to read it again. Why? Because Sirius died and that meant Harry was without any sort of parental figure again.

     Its still my least favorite of all of the books, but its probably one of one of the best books when it comes to twists. I plan on rereading all of the books soon, since I now own all of them, so my opinion might change on that. But probably not. I still like Hermione punching Malfoy and the seventh book is still the best... which is ironic because sooooo many people die, but I don't like the fifth because Sirius was killed.

     I think I need somebody to explain that logic to me because I don't understand it.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

N is for Nice Ladies (And That One Guy)

     I was an absolute mess yesterday. As soon as I walked away from Wolfy's car and into the airport, I was sobbing my eyes out so much that everyone was stopping to stare at me. A lady who worked there took pity on me and helped me use the machine to get my ticket, before directing me to the gate I had to go to. I didn't even make it to security before I broke down again and ran into the bathroom to hide.

     A lady was at the sinks while I was trying to fix my makeup, which was pointless because I was still crying. Honestly, I'm an idiot for wearing makeup when I knew I would end up crying. But she patted my shoulder and asked if I was okay. I nodded some and she promised me that everything would be okay and that everything would get better. Then she left.

     Then I broke down again and called my mom.

     I stopped crying after a while and didn't even attempt to fix my makeup again. I decided there was no point to it because I was probably going to end up looking like a raccoon anyways when I got on the plane. To keep myself distracted, I went to the little airport store that they had and looked at all of the books, while Mom was on the phone. When I had nothing else to look at, I made my way over to security.

     A lady cop was sitting there to mark my ticket. She looked like she wanted to hug me and then told me, "Sweetie, this is only your receipt. You need to go back up to the front and get your actual tickets. Come through the first class short cut so you don't have to wait though." So I made my way back to the front, asked the guy to print up my ticket, and he did. He also looked like he wanted to hug me.

     I did what I was told and walked back through the short cut she told me to use. She checked my ticket before other peoples' and sent me through to go through the machine thingy. I didn't have anything in my pockets. I learned my lesson when Mom went through the airport security and got molested (like, full on groped beyond necessary) to make sure she didn't have anything besides her ID and cash in her pockets. But the buttons on my pants must have decided they were going to cause problems.

     The lady pulled me aside and told me to raise my hands. Then she lifted up the back of my shirt and checked my pockets really fast, before sending me on my way. She wasn't so lenient with the lady who walked through the machine after me.

     I wrote yesterday's post while charging my phone at a little phone charging station and tried to keep myself focused on anything else except the fact that I was leaving. The lady from the bathroom said hi to me before her husband led her away. And eventually, after waiting for about three hours, I finally got to board my plane.

     Then I started crying again.

     I was in the middle of an older guy and a lady, both of whom tried to pretend that I wasn't having some sort of emotional meltdown two inches away from them. The lady helped me hook up the headphones and set it up so I could watch the movie that was playing, which distracted me enough that I stopped crying. Then we hit the massive turbulence and I had a panic attack.

     The lady next to me held my hands and helped me catch my breath. She kept promising that everything would be okay and told me that I just needed to keep breathing, even when I got lightheaded. This lady, who had never met me before, took care of me, a complete stranger who was a complete fucking mess on all levels.

     Eventually, she got the guy on my other side to help me. They started talking about traveling and the places that they had been, about the layovers they had, about the weather, about where I needed to go to get to my plane in the next twenty minutes. As soon as we were allowed off the plane, everyone took off at a run because we were all late.

     I didn't have the chance to really thank the lady on the plane, or even learn her name. She was gone by the time I was off the plane. The man who sat next to me though, directed me to a board to find out where I needed to go. He even told me which way I needed to go to find the right gate. Then I started practically running to my plane.

     But it was snowing in Denver, where my layover was. So there was really no point for my running because the plane that was supposed to leave at 7:40, was originally delayed until 8:00. Then it was delayed until a team of volleyball players arrived. Then it was delayed until 9:00 because it was snowing too hard. (I think my shoes soaked through from the snow because I had to walk outside and I had to pull myself up a ramp with metal hand rails because it was too slick to just walk up.) Then it was delayed for deicing.

     That is why my post for M was late and actually posted at like 2 this morning. I was supposed to be at this airport at 11:14 but that just didn't happen. I could have posted it earlier but since nobody follows my Twitter, but everyone wants to know when I land, I decided to wait. Can I get away with that? I mean, it was written early...

     But this post was just a thank you to all of the people who helped me throughout the day. All of the people I never met before and that I will probably never see again, who took time out of their lives to actually care and try to help some girl who needed it more than she really wants to admit.

     They give me hope for humanity, which I really need, especially after learning about what happened in Boston. Nice doesn't even begin to describe them but I just needed to talk about these amazing people, who I never got to thank properly.


P.S. For those of you asking, I am doing better than I was yesterday. Not by much, but there's an improvement. I hope I'll have funny posts for ya'll soon, but please bare with me until then. Also, funny stories and pictures would be appreciated.

Monday, April 15, 2013

M is for Mindless Travelers

     I'm writing this post from my phone, in the airport. Wolfy couldn't wait with me and if I don't keep my mind busy, I'm going to start crying for the upteenth million time today. (To the people at iHop and at the airport, I'm sorry. I know I looked insane and pitiful and kind of gross.)

     Momma is the one who suggested this topic and I've been watching the other travelers. I've noticed a few things about them. You'll have to bare with me on the lack of format for this post. Too bad I didn't bring my laptop because this is not easy.

1) People who dress like they're going on the most important dates of their lives. Unless you are going straight to a wedding, there is no need for a tux or the fanciest dress you own. Unless you work as a hooker or stripper, there is no need for four inch heels.

2) People who dress in the smallest clothing they own. I understand we are currently in a dessert but YOU hve to understand that planes get cold and you woll be cold and you will regret wearing the shorts that could pass for underwear.

3) People who travel alone. All you do is read or play on your phones. I'm one of the latter. It is completely okay as long as you are still mindful of those around you.

4) People who travel in groups. Its awesome that you're with your best friends but please do not entertain the entire gate of people wifh atories of different gross things. We're stressed and tired enough without learning your life stories.

5) People who are emotional. We all have a reason so stop with the "wow you are a wackadoo" looks. If somebody is happy, they're probably on vacation or get to see somebody they love. If somebody is mad, they probably had a long layover. If somebody runs to the bathroom crying, they probably had to say goodbye to someone they love. Just be nice.

     There's a lot more I can say on the topic but not on my phone. I'm gonna wait to post this until I actually get home tonight so it might be past the deadline for the letter M. But it my way of saying "I made it safely" so whatever.

     I also just want to wish everyone on Boston the best. I'm not sure of the full story but my prayers are with you all.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

L is for Let Me Introduce Ashley

     I know. The title sucks and I'm basically cheating with the letter L. But I have my reasons. For my new readers, you don't know, but whenever somebody I'm friends with has a birthday, I write a birthday post for them, on their birthday. Today is Ashley's birthday.

     Ashley is one of my best friends. She is batshit crazy. She says what she thinks regardless of how it sounds or what people will think of her. She has absolutely no shame, nor is she the least bit shy about anything. She is my stalker because she stalks my blog but never comments. There are about a hundred different people that she wants to marry. And she's one of the nicest people I know because she does not pretend like she cares if she doesn't.

     Today, she turns twenty-one. No, she isn't going to go out partying and get drunk and stuff. That's going to happen in like a week and a half so she has a week off to wake up from the horrible alcohol-induced coma I just know she's going to give herself. (Don't worry though, I'll be sure to blog everything that she says while she's drunk. Like always.)

     Now, if you're reading this, then go check out Ashley's blog. She doesn't write anything even remotely similar to me but that's good. (Her blog is better. She's just a lazy little brat hard working mother of two, who doesn't like to post very often.) Leave her a comment and tell her happy birthday because it will make her happy and she should feel famous on her birthday by getting a bunch of comments.

     Happy Birthday Ashley!

     I expect you to call me when you're drunk because its always freaking hilarious and I will be very sad if you don't.

Friday, April 12, 2013

K is for Katz

     I'm not cheating! That is the correct spelling! I know the word is usually "cats" but Katz is the creepy motherfucker from Courage The Cowardly Dog... which most of you probably haven't even heard of.

     Basically, the show is a stupid cartoon from the 90's that used to come on Cartoon Network. It was kind of like a horror show for kids. Courage was a cowardly dog who lived in the middle of Nowhere with old people (Eustace and Muriel), where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. Ghosts, curses, psychotic barbers, giant spiders, killer vegetables, people-eating bananas, etc.

     There were a few reoccurring bad guys. Katz was one of them. Le Quack and Cajun Fox were two others. There was also a captain with blond hair and a white suit but I'm too lazy to look up the name. I don't really remember any other names, besides Fred, the psychotic barber and that's because Wolfy and I watched that episode the other day.

     Katz was in a bunch the episodes though. I can't put a picture directly on here because this isn't my laptop, but I can link you to it so click anywhere in this sentence to see Katz. Doesn't he just look like he wants to feed you to his collection of giant spiders? Because he does. He also hates your dog and your dog is not welcome wherever he is.

     There weren't actually many things that scared me about the show. One episode where a puddle opened up and underneath it was a lake with some evil chick attacked them and they had to get out before the puddle dried up freaked me out a little bit. One episode with a little fox gypsy putting a curse on them scared me. But one episode with a stone tablet, a grim reaper-looking guy, and different plagues happened. That one scared the heck out of me and I never wanted to see it again because even when I was six, I knew the religious significance behind it.

     But Katz... That motherfucker was always so calm and so evil, but he never died and he always came back to attack again. What he did never really scared me that much, except for the whole spider thing, but he was always the creepiest bad guy. He's probably the reason that everyone from my generation loved the show.

     Brother pointed something out to me when I was trying to think for something for the letter K. He pointed out, that most evil bad guys wear white suits. That happens a lot in Courage The Cowardly Dog and in movies and stuff I'm too lazy to look up. I guess you can't trust a guy in a white suit.

P.S. The only other topic we could think of was Brother's suggestion of "kerosene". That basically went like this:
Me: Do not smoke while near kerosene?
Me: Do not swim in kerosene?
Brother: Do not weld near kerosene?
Me: Do not drink kerosene?
Brother: Do not cook with kerosene?
Me: Do not bathe in kerosene?

P.S. #2 But seriously, don't do any of that stuff. Kerosene is bad and I don't want to be responsible for you blowing yourself up, catching fire to anything or anyone, or poisoning yourself.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

J is for Jelly

     I do not understand that phrase "Are you jelly?" Like... no. No, as a matter of fact, you are not jelly. You might be jealous of somebody but that does not make you a food product made from smashed up fruit. Unless you are made of smashed up fruit and could be considered jam, which goes with peanutbutter for sandwiches, you are not jelly.

     Do not even fucking start. You are not jelly.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

I is for Ice Cream, Igloos, and Ice

     I had no idea this many letters would be difficult to make a topic for. Next year, I'm going to start writing posts for the Challenge when I actually sign up for it instead of waiting two months until April first and realizing that I have no idea what I'm in for. I know I'm behind on commenting again and I had time to change that but I was just too lazy. I'm enjoying my time off and I'd much rather be with Wolfy than spend all my time on the computer. But I will catch up again soon.

     A lot of people keep asking me what my favorite food is. That's probably something that I should know the answer to but I honestly have no idea. I suppose it depends on what classifies as what can be a favorite food. If its an actual meal or if dessert counts or what. I really have no idea what it could be, but ice cream would be at the top of the list.

     My grandma used to take my mom and I out for ice cream when I was little. I don't really remember much about it except that I would only ever get ice cream and then I would end up practically dying of thirst so I would have to go all the way back up to the counter for some water. Then the water would be so cold that it would give me a brain freeze. Every. Freaking. Time.

     That is why I will only drink room temperature water when I have ice cream now. I don't want to freeze my brain. I end up being cold enough just being at home.

     My mom keeps the A/C on all year round. It has snowed during winter and been ten degrees outside, but she keeps the A/C on constantly. "For airflow" she says. "Its just the fan, its not blowing out cold air" she says. "Its not that cold in here, get a jacket and stop shivering" she says. "This place is an igloo and I can't feel my freaking feet, turn off the A/C" I say.

     My theory is that she is part Eskimo, part Yeti, and part ice cube. She has to be since she eats ice throughout the year as well. Her iron isn't low, but that is a symptom of it. She just likes to eat ice even though its bad for her teeth and may cause her to freeze from the inside out. In the dead of winter when everyone is starting to get hypothermia just from stepping outside.

     Can somebody please explain this to me? And while you're at it, next time winter comes around, somebody come break our A/C until spring comes back.

P.S. Love you, Momma! Don't kill me! I'll give you bacon.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

H is for Horses

     It's been a long time since I've ridden a horse. I actually only ever rode one horse, that wasn't at some sort of carnival or festival or something. You know, the ones attached to a bunch of chains and stuff so they can only go around in circles.

     For my tenth birthday, my mom, her mom, and my uncle decided to surprise me. I spent days guessing what I might get to do. I wasn't going to get a party and I didn't really want one since I didn't have many friends to invite or anything to do. But they kept saying that something awesome was going to happen.

     I don't remember all of my guesses but I do remember that my mom and I were in the car when I spent most of my time guessing. I really had nothing to go on, no hints or anything. We were driving past a pasture with four horses in it so I finally guessed, "Horseback riding?" and my mom got really quiet. That was when I started to freak out and asked if she was really going to let me ride horses or if she was just joking. All she told me was, "Wear jeans to school and make sure you act surprised."

     My birthday was on a school day but I was called out of class before the day was over so that the four of us could go down to the horse rescue place. They rescued horses that were abused or lost or abandoned but they wouldn't sell them. Instead, they would have the tamer ones be ridden. I assume the wild horses were there to be tamed down but I really don't know.

     It felt like the longest drive ever and when we finally got there, I was so excited that I couldn't really act surprised. I'm pretty sure my uncle and grandma knew that my mom told me because I remember them giving her these weird looks like, "Really? Did you really tell her?"

     I had to be fitted for a riding hat and my mom and grandma left. They said that if they were there, my grandma would end up broken (she once managed to fall off a cliff in Hawaii and then fall over from standing still the next day, which resulted in a broken elbow) and I would rely on my mom for bravery to ride the horse (which I still don't think is true because I was super excited).

     They went over the rules and I got on my horse. One was named Trinity and I think the other was named Star. I don't remember which one I had or which one my uncle had, but I got to pick and I picked the prettier horse who seemed to like me.

     I got to pick whether I wanted to be out in the pasture or out on the woods, so I picked the woods. We went on a ride that lasted about an hour. Through the woods, through a river which my horse did not like at all, up hills, down hills, over logs. We also had to cross a road going to and from. The only times at all my horse stopped was in the middle of the road.

     A couple times, the horse tried to start trotting or galloping and she had not tried to throw me off so I let her. Which resulted in our guide and my uncle yelling at me that I didn't have proper training to ride a horse and that my mom would kill them both if anything happened to me.

     After that, the four of us met back up again and we had pizza for dinner. I don't remember a lot of the details of that day but I do remember that it was probably the best birthday that I ever had.

P.S. Yes, Wolfy, I did write all of this in like five minutes. And thank you for the topic suggestion.

Monday, April 8, 2013

G is for Gum

     I started chewing gum before the plane took off. Everyone kept telling me that it would keep my ears from popping. Bullshit. Not only did my ears pop, but it felt like I was being knocked upside the head because my ear ended up hurting so much.

     Anybody got any tips that actually work?

Saturday, April 6, 2013

F is for Flying

     In a couple of hours, I'm going to be on a plane to see my boyfriend. I'm writing this in between packing and straightening my hair. And also freaking out because I really do not like being on planes at all.

     The thing is, I have a fear of heights. Not only that, but I do not like small or crowded spaces at all. I have to take a total of four planes to get to and from the state that I am traveling to. I've been on planes before and everything always turns out fine, but I usually end up with a couple panic attacks and shaking the entire way.

     Nearly every plane I have ever been on has had a delay so that they could fix something, which is terrifying enough. Everything always turned out okay and I am very happy they stopped to fix the problem instead of giving the chance for something bad to happen. But ohmygosh, that's just scary, okay?

     That I can remember, I have been on a total of seven planes. I was also on some as a baby but obviously, I don't remember that. What usually happens is on the flight to my first layover, I have all sorts of panic attacks. I calm down at the layover and I freak out on the way to the destination, but not nearly as bad. On the way home, its not nearly as big of a deal. I'm not sure why.

     All I know is that its been almost two years since I've been on a plane and I would much rather drive except that I don't have a car. Or a license. Or any sense of direction. Or a crapload of gas money.

     Honestly, I don't know how somebody is brave enough to be a pilot or a stewardess (is that the correct term?*). Especially when somebody told me that they had a total of five flights to do before the could go home.

     I would also like to point out that spiders and storms are still way higher on the list of things that scare me. I would rather be on a plane than be in a bad storm, but I'd really just rather neither happen.

**hahahaha Like I give a shit about PC.


P.S. Since this has been posted, it means that I landed safely and everything is just fine. You can follow my twitter (@whenalionsleeps) for any extra updates, most likely complaints while at the airport. I know I haven't replied to comments or commented back or anything yet, but I plan to catch up on Sunday since I will have nothing else to do that day.

P.S. #2 I was told, that statistically, if you were on a plane from the time you were born, you would have to be 80 before an incident actually occurred. Not really sure how true that is but it makes me feel better. Well, that, and being on land.

P.S. #3 It is now a total of nine planes that I can remember being on and damnit, Wolfy, I cannot type if you are tickling me.

Friday, April 5, 2013

E is for Elmer's Glue Is Better Than Krazy Glue

     I can't remember the awesome post I had planned for E, which really sucks. However, I did learn that Elmer's Glue is waaaaaay better than Krazy Glue pen sticks.

     I painted a paint by numbers thing for Wolfy (since I have zero artistic talent and it was the best I could do, plus it was a wolf). The cardboard on the back started to peel off and I went searching for the glue today, once the paint was completely dry. I was looking for superglue, but all we had was a Krazy Glue pen stick thingy.

     It didn't work. It literally dried before I could stick the corners back together. So I just put the painting in a frame and I'm really hoping it won't get broken in the suitcase. Too bad we didn't have Elmer's Glue. That stuff actually works.

     Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing.

P.S. Sorry for the short and crappy post. I worked both jobs today, have to finish packing, and have to go check out all of your blogs.

P.S. #2 I just wanted to thank Kianwi for being incredibly sweet. I tweeted about a lady who called me pretty today and said I have nice skin, which meant the world because I was having a bad day with my skin condition (psoriasis). She only saw the second half, saying I was having a self conscious day, and she started tweeting me cute puppy pictures to make my day better. How awesome is that?

P.S. #3 Last time I used super glue, it was to fix my belt. I ended up glueing my thumb to my belt. I'm not sure why I'm allowed to use any form of glue at all anymore.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

D is for Ducks

     Originally, this post was going to be about the made-up game Sissi made, called "Do you know this song? No? Okay." but I can't get anybody to play with me so I'm improvising at 10:06 at night.

     Before my mom and I moved to the city we live in now, we lived way out in the country. Like, it took almost half an hour to get to the nearest WalMart and if you had to go grocery shopping, you'd better go to the local grocery store- Dollar General. Once, I literally blinked and missed downtown. It consisted of a post office that was never open and a couple of buildings that burned down before we lived there. Two years ago, they got their first stoplight in front of the highschool and that was straight out shocking.

     We lived right next to a small pond that ducks and geese lived at. When we lived there, almost nobody ever went there. After we moved, it became the most awesome place to go to in that town. Because, you know, obviously there are a bunch of awesome places to go to.

     Every morning, one single duck would come up to our front door and wait. She would give these quiet little quacks until we gave her bread or crackers or whatever else we had. She quacked while eating. She quacked while walking. She quacked and raced after us until we either got inside the house or got inside the car to leave. I named her Mrs Quackers. It seemed appropriate.

     Eventually, she brought one little duck friend along. A few days later, there was a third duck waiting at our front door. The only way to get around them was to give them bread. They weren't mean but they would get right on your feet. Touching wild ducks isn't smart to begin with but we were also scared of accidentally kicking them, stepping on them, or even running them over. We had no choice but to continue to give them food to get them out of our way just to leave, otherwise they stalked us.

     Five or six showed up every morning by the time half the school year was over. Whenever they showed up for a week, they got a name. They stayed during the winter, which I never quite understood. I suppose it was because they had a food source though I still don't understand how they were able to deal with all of the cold weather since it actually snowed that year.

     Mrs Quackers was the only really loyal one who always came back. The door was open one day and she must have gotten impatient because she hopped right up the steps and into the house. She stayed in the doorway just quacking at us until I told her that I would bring her some bread if she would go back outside without pooping on the floor. She listened without a problem. It happened several times after that.

     We moved to the city after that school year was over. Mom and I went back later to see how "our" ducks were doing. Mrs Quackers stayed there for quite some time. She must have left during sometime the next fall or winter because we haven't seen her since, nor have we seen any of the other ducks.

     And that, my friends, is the story of how I had a gang of ducks demand that we feed them every day.

     The ironic part is that every other duck and every goose I ever see tries to attack me or chase me. I honestly don't know why. I must have killed a bird in a former life or something and Mrs Quackers was just forgiving.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

C is for Cursing

     I said before, that I was giving up cursing for Lent, as a way to give up a bad habit. I'm not even Catholic, though I do believe in God. Considering all the times I got mad enough that I wanted to dump soup on coworkers' heads or make them be "*the bitch on the other side of the door" from the kitchen, when I have to kick it open, I think I've done pretty well.

     *That's Mom's quote. She's seen me at work when I have to kick the kitchen door open while trying to balance a heavy tray. Once, I was still really new and carrying a tray that was much too heavy. I was having a hard time balancing and kicked the door a little too hard, so that it flew open and almost hit the wall. About three feet away from the door, there's a little too seater table and one of the chairs is right next to the door. Sit too far back and you can be the bitch on the other side of the door. (The week after that, the lady manager stopped me while I was on my way back in to tell me I could leave soon and I got hit with the door. It sucked.)

     There were a few times that I slipped up a little bit. I said "wtf" or "slut" or similar phrases, without even thinking about it. I had a couple of dreams where I dropped f-bombs and all sorts of other words. Also during those dreams, I felt like the worst person ever because I had said words I promised not to say before Lent was up.


     I'm pretty proud of myself.

     I'm really only proud because this one girl at work is out to get me. There have been a few days where she'll walk passed me and "accidentally" bump into me hard enough I'll fall into something, or someone. Then when I walk by her and don't even touch her, she acts like I'm doing that to her. She's also spread a lot of rumors about me and blames me for literally everything that goes wrong, even if I'm not there. Not to mention the fact, she's walked into the dining room and started screaming at me to get out of her way so she could pass out the food for her table, when my entire job is to bring the food to the customers. I literally cannot win with her and it will be a relief when she gets fired, as bad as that sounds.

     I never cursed at her, but I am guilty of thinking "fucking bitch" every time I look at her. That's probably not good and I'm working on that. I really need to stop that before I say that instead of her name. I'm pretty sure that would not go over well with anyone. Except maybe Mr Fix-It. I think he would laugh.

     This post is turning into a more "people I hate at work" post, isn't it?

     Well, I still plan on keeping the cursing to a minimum. After all, if I'm going to own and work in a daycare, I can't go around using all sorts of colorful words that parents might not want their kids repeating.

     Wish me luck.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

B is for Beginning Of Blogging

     This post was suggested by my boyfriend, Wolfy, who I am going to see on Saturday for nine whole days. Ohmygoshyay.

     A couple years ago, I read posts from Allie Brosh on Hyperbole And A Half. I am no where near as funny as she is and I don't think I ever have a hope to be. Humor like that has to be something you're born with and you have to learn how to use that amazing talent.

     But I started wondering what it would feel like to make somebody laugh like that. I'm not a comedian. I honestly don't want to be. But how amazing would it be to make somebody laugh so much? Or what would it be like to make somebody think about something important that could make a difference in somebody's life?

     I started considering it more and more. Should I start a blog? What if I get a lot of hate for it? What if somebody I don't like finds it? What if I get some crazy stalker for whatever reason? Maybe I shouldn't do it. There are a lot of risks with putting my thoughts out there.

     When I finally decided to start a blog, I was stuck in bed because I was sick. That's probably not saying much. When you're sick, you really shouldn't decide anything, because it might not be the smartest choice. But I was fully aware of that and I decided to start my blog anyways.

     Originally, I wanted to write about funnier topics. Something that could make somebody's day better with a laugh or a smile. The longer I wrote, the more I realized that it just doesn't come naturally enough. Yeah, I have funny stories, but I'm not humorly-talented like most of the blogs I read.

     I think that a lot of bloggers, or writers in general, have to just keep writing until they figure out how they need to do things. Some people are better with funny topics. Some people are better with meaningful, inspiring posts. Some people can do both and more. I'm still trying to learn what I'm actually good at. I must be doing something write, though, since I now have 37 followers.

     Its easy to find something that I can rant about. I have more than enough posts that involve me ranting about things that made me mad or even just irritated me. I also have plenty of conversations between my friends and I. But I don't want my blog to revolve completely around anger nor do I want this to just be a log of conversations.

     After a few months of blogging, I realized that I wanted to write something more meaningful. Conversations with my friends mean a lot to me and they might make somebody laugh, but would they make a difference for anyone? I don't even know if the posts I try to make meaningful make a difference to anyone but I did find out why I really wanted to start blogging.

     I wanted to find my voice and be able to speak out about anything that I want to. I haven't always been able to do that. Even if it doesn't make a difference to anyone else, I know that I put my thoughts out there. Even if some of my posts are angry, some are funny, some are stupid, some are important, and they're all over the place. They're my thoughts, they're out there, and I have a way to be heard since I'm probably the shyest person you'll ever meet. If I happen to do something meaningful along the way, then that's even better.

     I guess, long story short, I began blogging because I had something to say. I just haven't always known what it was.

Monday, April 1, 2013

A is for Anti-Bullying

     I haven't even planned out half of my posts, much less started writing any or anything like that. I signed up months ago but I had no idea that you could pre-write posts until last week. Then work got insane and my internet went out. Awesome, right?

     But that's not what this post is about. As you might have noticed, I have an entire page up about anti-bullying. Last year, I was told that a week in November was Anti-Bullying Week. I found out that October 10th was Unity Day but the month of October was Bullying Awareness Month. My posts had already been planned, so I kept the original November dates. I posted about bullying every day for an entire week. I invited any blogger who wanted to join in, to do so.

     The Bloggess actually tweeted about it for me. For those of you who don't know who she is, she is basically blogging royalty.


     Before I really write about anything else, I just want to invite everyone who reads this to join in again this year. This year, Unity Day is October 9th, according to the National Bullying Prevention Center Website. All you have to do is write a post saying that bullying is bad on Unity Day, send me the link via email (pertinax_puella@hotmail.com), and I will post it on a post later that week. It will also be added to the page I currently have but that includes things from any time, not just Unity Day.

     I'll admit that I'm basically advertising what I want to do and I'm using this Challenge to do it. However, that is not the reason I started this Challenge and I'm not doing it for myself.

     The whole reason I want to let people know just how bad bullying is, is because I know what its like. I know what its like to be called stupid, ugly, a loser, a dork, a geek. I know what its like to have horrible rumors spread around. I know what its like to be pushed down the stairs and shoved against lockers. I know what its like to have people grab at me and grope me while I walked down the school hallway, just because I was too small to protect myself, just because there were too many people for me to know who it was when I turned around.

     Nobody deserves that.

     I know very well that the chances of making people stop bullying completely is impossible. I know that there will always be somebody who takes pleasure from causing somebody pain and destroying them word by word. But I'll be damned if I stop fighting.

P.S. Lent is over, by the way.