100th Post

Hooray for the Awesome Blog!  We made it to 100!



Peeps, my 100th post is dedicated affectionately to you.  You are the reason that I write, you, the interweb family who understands and appreciates me, regardless of typos, misdirected anger and resentment, and wordy rants that really have nothing to do with you, but you are subjected to anyway.  You are wonderful, just like this Awesome Blog, so let's celebrate!

Just because I think that it would be fitting, let us commemorate this momentous occasion by replaying an interaction that I had this afternoon while on a lunch/errand date with my friend, Cupcake Caroline.

Let me set the scene for you:

Walmart (the bane of my existence).

Rain, pouring down in sheets, and soaking the bottoms of my jeans and my hoodie.

Cupcake and I had just finished purchasing furniture for her and her gf's apartment, and I was waiting under the awning while she went to retrieve the car.

A lady (and I use that term very loosely) came out of the store, but her walk way was blocked by the cart-bringer- back man, so of course she let her impatience be known by huffing and puffing.

She proceeded to gather her bags out of the cart, and pushed her way to the edge of the awning when I realized that she abandoned her cart in the middle of the walk way.  I noticed, though, that there was a bag still left in the cart, so I grabbed it and made after her. 

Val:  Um, excuse me, I think you left something in your cart!

Rude Jerkface:  Oh, no, that's garbage!

Val:  Are you fucking serious? You couldn't turn to the right and drop it in the garbage can? You're awesome!

Mind you guys, the garbage can was about a foot and a half away from the place where she abandoned her cart.  She literally had to turn her body less than a 45 degree angle and extend her arm to deposit the bag into the garbage can, but no, that was too much for her. 

I keep trying to stay positive, but I'm losing my faith in humanity. 

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

.... Not.

I've been marinating on some of these things for the last couple of weeks, and now I have the time to share them with you fine people.  I know that you all will agree, and hope that I won't be considered so much of a "grinch" for sharing these things that piss me off now that it's after "the holidays".

1.)  Elf on a Shelf.
This little fucking stuffed elf is Creeptacular with a capital C.  Seriously folks, who thought that this was okay?  Not only do you have to purchase this shady ass elf doll for $30, but you have to MOVE IT every night for weeks before Christmas, so you can trick your kids into being "nice" until Santa gets to town.  This would not make my life easier; this would be a major pain in my ass.

2.) The Reindeer Antlers/Rudolph Nose on cars.
Don't you people have to open your windows ever? What is the damn point of turning your SUV into a fictional reindeer?  You look stupid and you make me want to vomit*.  You people with the wreaths on your grills, you make me kinda sick, too.

3.) Charity Ask-For-Your-Change People
Okay, taken the wrong way, and this could make me a douche; however, when I go to the store, I don't want to come out and feel accosted by someone for my change.  If I have change, I will give it to you, I promise, but don't shake your bell at me and make me feel guilty because you've said "Merry Christmas" with that begging-like-inflection that makes me feel like a scum bag because I used my debit card since I didn't have any cash, and therefore have no change to give you.

Also, the charities near my house are getting more and more crafty with their guilt-inducing-askers... since they're using paraplegics and handicapped people who can't walk/talk/do anything but blink... an interesting development.  This pulls on my heartstrings, and I don't like it.  I don't want to feel guilted into giving you money.  I want to do it out of the goodness of my heart.

4.) Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas".
Enough said, amirite?

What pisses you off during the holidays?  What are you glad to see over, gone until this time next year?

"Undiscovered"

This is my first week back to Indie Ink, and I must say, I am definitely feeling a bit rusty.  Thanks a big bunch to My Plaid Pants, Runaway Sentence, and Alyssagoesbang for dragging my ass back into the swing of things. Without further ado, here goes nothing... 

"Undiscovered"

She was sitting perched on the bed when I found her in our bedroom, holding a plain white envelope, with tears in her eyes.  I wondered what she had in the envelope to make her cry, and realized just a minute too late that I already knew.  Inside that envelope was the story of us; our past, present, and future. 

She looked up at me, and the range of emotions on her face was frightening.  There was shock, pain, sadness, confusion, betrayal, and more that I couldn’t even begin to name.  The glare coming from her eyes was enough to kill.

“Chris,” she started, slowly.

“I know.  I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say.

“That’s all you have to say, is ‘I’m sorry’?”  So much for starting slowly.

“I…”

“What are you sorry for? Are you sorry for the fact that I just found this accidentally?  Are you sorry for the fact that you got caught?  Or are you sorry for breaking my heart?”

I could only stand there as she shoved these rhetorical questions down my throat like poison.  The taste in my mouth made me want to vomit, but how could I explain to her that I was just doing this for us?  I couldn’t.  She wouldn’t ever understand.  She is the girl of my dreams, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and for some reason she likes me, too, but this would ruin us, I just know it.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you.  You deserve to know the truth.” 

She just looked at me, looked through me, as if I wasn’t really there anymore.

“Chris, I can’t believe you could keep something this huge from me.  You had a child.”

Yeah, I had a child.  I had a baby, the product of a rape, and an unfortunate reminder of the cretin who invaded my life forever in the span of twenty agonizing minutes.

“Sarah, I just can’t talk about it.  I couldn’t talk about it, even with you.”  I closed my eyes and silently prayed to whatever higher being was out there that she would forgive me and understand. 

You see, since we’d been trying to get pregnant, I told her that I wasn’t able to have children.

I lied. 

*** 

This week for the Indie Ink challenge, I was given “You come across an old envelope from your past. What is inside?” by GUS.  I challenged Billy Flynn with "You're in a funk; how do you get out of it?".  Check out his response *here*.

Ain't no Sunshine

Want to know how to spell “livid”?


V-a-l-e-r-i-e.


Yeah, I know it’s been a long time since Sunshine has been hindered by storm clouds, but it’s been one of those days.  I am just to the point where, aside from a select few, I want to scream from the rooftops, “you can all kiss my ass.” (Not you, interweblings, you’re all wonderful.)


But seriously, tonight is one of those nights where I wish I was an anonymous blogger.  Granted that not many of my personal friends and family are actively reading this blog, but some have been known to frequent it, or know people who frequent it… so I can’t really say what I want to say specifically to just vent it all out.  Ya get me?


However, if I could, it would look something like this:


If I could actively hate another human being, it would be you.  I would love nothing more than to turn my hatred for you into a physical event, like cow tipping or archery.  I despise you and everything that you pretend to stand for. You are nothing, nothing to me, and nothing to everyone else.


You are the antithesis of everything I am trying to be; you are a diseased leech and a parasite, both to society and to people I love.  I’ve watched you abuse more than enough people to realize that you are not a good human being or friend.  You take what you want, like a bully, and leave nothing but chaos, destruction, and pain in your path.  You are a terrorist in every sense of the word.


Go away.  Go find some other people to harass.  You gush, spew, and name-drop like it was going out of style, and you create these stories that make you larger than life, so go find yourself with these fictional characters and live in your fantasy world where you are King.  I’m sure you’ll like it there, filled with your ‘subjects’ who will bow down to you, kiss your feet like you think you deserve, and tell you over and over again how wonderful you are.


I just hope that when you break your word and your promises to them, that they overthrow you easily like the nothing that you are, and treat you like the fool you deserve to look like.  I’d say I wish you well, but that’d be a lie.


Yeah, Peeps, it’s been one of those days.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yes, you read correctly, I am officially a year older. Woot. 

The powers that be proudly graced the world with my presence 26 years ago, and I have been bringing joy, laughter, and sarcasm (when I was old enough to appreciate the skill) ever since.  A big thank you goes out to my parents... dad, I'm sure, has no idea this blog even exists, let alone that he sometimes makes a cameo... and a big shout out to mother dearest "up there" ::looks up and tilts head:: if you can grasp this, props to you. 

Yeah, my mom deserves a big thank you.  You see, when I was occupying her uterus, I almost killed her.  Not like a euphemism or anything, but I legitimately almost killed her.  

She liked to regale me with the story of my birth, and those few months leading up to it, every year the day before my birthday, at which times she would appropriately tell me what she was feeling at the hour that corresponded to way back then.  I have to say, I really miss hearing her tell me that story... but if she were here, I'd probably tell her to shut up and that I knew it all already, and to stop embarrassing me.  Go figure. 

This year I didn't really plan anything for the celebration of my birth. You see, up until two weeks before, I didn't even know what day my birthday was going to fall on. 

Well, while trying to make some plans happen out of nowhere, it seemed that everything was going to fall apart.  The girlfriend was going to come in from East Bumble, Pennsylvania, but her car was in the shop.  I thought I was going to have a party at Tito and Secret Fav's new apartment, but that fell through.  I ended up working until 8:15pm, so no real fun during the day. 

I managed to wrangle up my two best friends Kat and Susie, and my sister, and told them we were going to go for dinner.  The girlfriend called me at 7am on the morning of my birthday and said that she'd fallen off of a ladder and thought she'd torn her ACL.  She was going to come and surprise me, because even though her car was in the shop, she'd worked something out with her sister.  Well, she can't drive with a fucked up knee so she wasn't coming, so I spent the better part of my day trying to console her on the fact that I wasn't upset, and we'd be able to celebrate together some other time, and that she shouldn't be sad -- I did this, via text, from the afternoon up until it was time for me to go to dinner w/ the peeps.  

What happened next, you might wonder? 

My best friend in the whole entire world drove all the way to East Bumble, PA to pick up my girlfriend and bring her to dinner (surprising me) just so that I could see her, bum leg and all. 

Pick your jaws up off of the floor, please.

I know, right! How awesome is that??!  I have the best Best Friend in the entire world, and I have the best Girlfriend in the entire world.  

I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. 

<3

Cake = Yum.

Best Surprise Ever.

Jax, Me, Susie and Kat.

A Different Sort of Post

This is a different sort of post.  I'm just going to write and try not to hit the backspace button, like I usually do.  I love everyone who reads this, and hopefully you all love me back, so you won't judge me for this written-word-vomit that I'm going to dish out to you all.

What is it about Thanksgiving that makes everyone all self-reflective and internal?  I'm not sure.  Maybe it's the whole 'being thankful' thing, and having to take the time to think about what we're all really thankful for?  Maybe it's the fact that we spend so much time trying to avoid what we really want, and are really happy for, and just keep going on with the lame and mundane? Who knows.

These last couple days of mine have been a whirlwind, that's for damn sure.  I can't even begin to explain all the emotions I'm feeling, but I have realized a few things about myself.  My fears are more than I even knew. My fear of intimacy.  My fear of rejection.  My fear of embarrassing myself.  For someone who always thinks she's so self-assured, I'm really fucked up.

Don't worry, I'm still awesome.  We all know it.

I know it's not resolution time yet, but there are still things I hope for.  I hope to be braver.  I hope to be more secure in myself.  I hope to be able to tell people how I feel, instead of just hoping they'll know.  I hope to be able to say exactly what I want to say without fear of consequence.  I hope to be able to control my verbal vocabulary as well as I can control my written vocabulary, and use it, instead of just looking like a goof.

Don't get me wrong, I like being a goof.  I just wish I had more confidence, I guess.

I don't know where I'm going with all this.  I'm just trying something new and filling a blank page, something else that gives me anxiety.  I need to stop pressuring myself to always have the right thing to say right off the bat, or to be perfect all the time.  I'll get it, I know I will.... I just need to allow myself to get there.

PS. This is the one year anniversary of my blog.  Yay for me :)
(I don't know the exact date; I just know that it was around Thanksgiving, because my first post was about the family asking me "What are you going to do with your life?"... to which, I still have no clue.  No pressure though.)

Thanks for listening, Peeps.

I Made That.

Ladies and gentleman, lend me your ears (or eyes, as it were), for I have the best story to tell you all!

Last night, as I was sitting in the Drive-Thru, my work computer asked me to change my password for one of the many that I am responsible for... Pretty normal.

No problem, right? Wrong.

The problem lies in the fact that in order to write down my password, I needed a pencil so that when the time comes that I have to change it again, I can just erase and be on my merry way.  Well, I found a pencil, but was lacking a pencil sharpener.  This is a serious problem, only second to "which is worse: having a cigarette with no lighter, or a lighter with no cigarette?".

I sat staring at my blunt pencil for a few minutes when it came to me... I could totally sharpen it into a point.

Well, the man that I closed with yesterday was not one of our dysfunctional family, so he isn't really used to my shenanigans.  He's very subdued, with a quirky look to him which makes me feel like he's a time-traveler from the sixties.  He had this Mad Men look about him, and wore the thickest glasses that I've ever seen.  I actually told him that I thought they were thicker than bullet proof glass, which led to an explanation about cost vs. thickness that I didn't really care for and ignored.

I think Creepy was very surprised to see my creative side.  Actually, what he said when he saw what I was up to was, "Wow, that is some of the ghetto-est shit I've ever seen.  Pardon my language."  Verbatim.  I wanted to say, well, you've never seen what I've had to do to get my car to stay together, because this is nothing.

What I did, folks, is take a knife out of our kitchen drawer and WHITTLE the pencil into a point.

How ingenious is that?

As I shared my ordeal with Arnold, who I tell all my stupid thoughts to, I felt pretty damn proud of myself.  I thought to myself, "Damn, Val.  You could totally survive in the wild.  Bear Grylls has nothing on you."  I felt like I was climbing the lesbian-ladder, because as we all know I'm terrible at fixing things properly or doing anything remotely involved with technology, so the fact that I thought this up all on my own was pleasantly surprising.

Especially after my last lesbian ordeal with the toilet seats... but that is a story for another time.

Keep laughing, keep smiling. Just go with it. <3

November Update

The last few days weeks months have kept me a busy girl.

Between Mother Nature and her PMS, both my jobs, and my malnourished and somewhat neglected social life, I haven't had a lot of time to write, and nothing, in fact, to write about.  This makes Sunshine a lame girl.

The only things I really have to report are:
*Bruises, origins unknown, are making appearances on my extremities
*I have my first Friday night off from Mystery, Inc. coming up this week and I'm goin' dancin with my peeps.
*I miss being in school.  I corrected Manda's paper today and I really missed writing papers. This makes me a dork. Also, I wish I would have planned out a NaNoWriMo project.  I feel pretty lame about that.
*I went to the Jets game not too long ago against San Diego, and Man that was some good stuff.  I love watching the Jets (even if they're losing, like they are right now to the goddamn Pats).  I made friends with the guy behind me, too.  He liked me because I screamed down at the field like they could hear me from the nosebleed section, just like he was.... He let me wear his helmet. <3

Mother Nature, thou art a heartless bitch.

2011 is definitely not the North East's year, that's for sure. 

First, Hurricane Irene came in and took out her pms on us, then the Earthquake that rocked the East from Virginia to Connecticut (which I am STILL mad that I didn't feel, but that's another story), and now the freak snow storm before Halloween.  

Mother Nature really needs to get her shit together. 

In the words of my cousin, who put a bus on our street?!

Mother Nature granted us with over a foot of snow in a freak snow storm that caused more destruction than the Hurricane back in August.  I have never seen so many trees broken, snapped in half, destroyed, in my entire life.  It looks as if God himself came down from the Heavens and snapped every single one in half like a toothpick.  

It's unreal. 

This telephone pole (with what I can assume is a transformer, though it didn't speak to me like Optimus Prime) just hung out in the middle of the street for a few days.  It was tired of standing straight up and needed a vacation.

Then, even better, as we were trying to get out of our neighborhood, we saw this gem.  Maybe it's time for the sprinklers to be shut off for the year... I'm pretty sure the snow doesn't need to be watered.

 The best part of the whole thing? I got to make this for someone :)

The Next Great Adventure

Big news, Peeps.

This week, I made a life decision, which could either turn out to be amazing, adventurous, wonderful, and life changing, or it could turn out to be monumentally disastrous and an epic fail.

For those of you that know me, or are at least familiar with me, or have at least read the “about me” on the right side of this page, you’ll see that I am a Boston Red Sox fan ‘trapped’ by life’s circumstance (and the fact that I was born and raised here) in, let’s face it, Yankee country.

Well, that is about to change, my friends.

This week I applied for a job in Boston, Massachusetts.

(One that I am likely to get, btw.  I wouldn’t put this out there without you guys thinking that it was just a whim.)

I’m not even going to lie a little, I am a scared mess right now.  Honestly, if I were a caricature, I’d be the tiny little Chihuahua teetering on the brink of a nervous break down, backed up into a corner and nervously peering from side to side.  Everyone keeps saying that I should be excited, and this is going to be an adventure, and what I’ve always dreamed of doing, and I am, don’t get me wrong, but with that excitement comes the nervous-I’m-going-to-vomit feeling and doubt.

What if I can’t do it?

What if I fail?

I’m terrified of failing, ending up homeless and living on a bench in Boston Common.  What would I even do?  I would be pitiful.  Thankfully, my friend live there and I hope hope hope that they wouldn’t let me become destitute and a bum, (how would I write the Awesome Blog?!?!?!?!?!?!) but you never know.

I would love to hear from any of you who’ve ever decided to just up and move away from everyone and everything you’ve ever known.  Do you have a success story? How about an epic fail?

Mystery, Inc.

This is really a short post that goes out to my Mystery, Inc. buddies.

Recently, I've discovered how much I despise going to work, so much so that I sit in my car before I get there, look up at the big white letters that spell out our name, and physically try to convince myself to get out of the car and go punch in.

Sometimes, though, I am surprised with small moments of deja vu, which reminds me why I really enjoyed working here in the first place.  My co-workers are a bunch of characters, and not just the cafe family:

Me - obviously.
Meggles - The socially awkward, but totally lovable, panicky dork.
Kymiah Dawson - The sheriff of these here parts, with her pink badge.  Love her guts.
SuperD*ve - Crazy Asian Pacific Islander.
Merejiah - I partially despise, and partially idolize.
Nai - My Friday Night buddy who is always rushing me out because "I need to get down to Rutgers."

Plus all the secondary characters like Music, the rest of the Managers, and the occasional comments from the cash wrap area like "Sunshine, maybe the announcements are better left to the professionals."

::shakes my head::

I hate going to work, but I love my crew.  They make it bearable.

Nia - Will Work for Beer!

Merejiah - Will commit evil deeds for $
>:-)

Thanks, guys. <3

Sunshine... Queen of India.

Well, Peeps.  Maybe my time here on the interwebs has come to an end.

The other morning I had to stop for gas before making the ardous trek to work.  I really despise getting gas in the morning because aside from the fact that I AM SO NOT A MORNING PERSON, there comes the part where I am still not in touch with my vocabulary *and* my morning coffee, so I am like half-a-Sunshine. 

I roll up to the pump and smile like I always do to the station attendant, because lets face it, most people aren't very nice to the gas station people.  They're always treated with disrespect and never told to 'have a nice day' or given a 'thank you' so I try to make sure I'm polite, gracious, and friendly.

I guess I'm too friendly.

The man at the gas station down the street from my house has lately been asking me a lot of personal questions like 'where do you live', 'are you in school', 'where do you work', etc.  Well, this most recent trip to the gas station he asked me whether I was married and/or had any children.  I told him definitely not. I am WAY too young for marriage. He laughed and asked if I had a boyfriend.

I said not really. I was hoping to just drive away and leave, but he wouldn't stop! "You don't get along very well?"

:::Gives the deadpan stare:::

Ummm. Right!  Well, call me a horrible lesbian, but I just went along with it.  It's not like its so easy to tell an older Indian man who gives my car the breath of life once a week that I think boys are icky, I mean come on!

(I am laughing as I type this right now.)

I said something like 'I'm just looking for the right one... A good one.'
He said 'I am looking for a good girl, too.' 

I'm pretty sure that was a proposition.  I immediately made my way out of there as fast as possible, and was creeped beyond belief, but on further reflection (and talking with my favorite jewrican), I have decided that we are in a recession and I should be ashamed of myself!  Maybe he's a King in India or something?! So, as of now, I will be planning my wedding and my future as royalty... maybe.

Or maybe not.

Crown Jewels

Ladies and gentlemen.... oh, who am I kidding, Peeps, we're not that classy around here.  This is what's goin' down:  Someone thinks I'm a "Kreativ Blogger" and I deserve pretty, shiny, picturey awards!

The rules of this bad boy are to share seven random things about myself, answer some [personal, or not so since I blog about almost everything] questions, and pass it around, woot!

Share 7 random things about myself:

-I love country music.  I can totally get down to Rascal Flatts, Dixie Chicks, and Garth Brooks.

-I do NOT like chocolate sprinkles.  If I go for sprinkles, it's gotta be rainbow.

-I am full of astronomical trivia.  I can tell you why the sky is blue.

-I like peach snapple, but I don't like peaches, and I do like nectarines.

-Sometimes, when I pull up to the big white lines that go across the road, I feel like Paul Walker from Fast and the Furious. 

-My left hand is numb right now.

-My eye twitches when I get stressed out. 

Answer the following questions:

Fav. Color: Yellow.

Fav. Song: Right now, it's "Stereo Hearts" by Gym Class Heroes

Fav. Dessert: Pecan Pie

Biggest Pet Peeve: Being Interrupted.

When you are upset you: keep it in until I can't handle it anymore, then vent at anyone in the vicinity.

Fav. Pet: Dogs

Black or white: Yellow.

Biggest Fear: Animals that Fly

Best Feature: My eyes

Every attitude: I don't know that this means. 

What is perfection?: Seeing the flaws and looking past them. 

Guilty Pleasure: Cheesy romance movies and Disney movies.

I am going to pass this along to my most favorite poet ever, Runaway Sentence, who does amazing things with words. 

<3 

Thank you very much, miss Ashley at She Who Will Be Tamed, for taking the time to think I am worthy of such fabulousness. You're great!

Transcontinental Cupid?

This might be one of the best spam emails I've ever received.  I'm not sure whether this letter is supposed to be a cry for help or something of flirtatious nature.  Either way, she's a lesbian, and my charm is OBVIOUSLY reaching across cultural barriers.  


Dearest One.

Thanks for the opportunity to be your friend,I know this mail will come to you as a surprise since we have not meet or had a previous correspondence, please bear with me. I will really like to have a good relationship with you. I have a special reason why I decided to contact you.

 I decided to contact you because of the urgency of my situation here ,I am Ms Fati Mbogo Edwards 25 years old girl from Liberia the only daughter of Late Dr ,Mbogo Edwards the deputy minister of national security under the leadership of president Charles Taylor who is now in exile after many innocent soul were killed ,My father was killed by government of Charles Taylor ,he accuse my father of coup attempt.

I am constrained to contact you because of the maltreatment I, am receiving from my step mother. She planned to take away all my late father's treasury and properties from me since the unexpected death of my beloved Father.

Meanwhile I wanted to escape to the Europe but she hide away my international passport and other valuable travelling documents. Luckily she did not discover where I kept my father’s File which contains important documents. I decided to run to the refegee camp where I am presently seeking asylum under the United Nations High Commission for the Refegee here in ougadugou,Republic of Burkinafaso.I wish to contact you personally for a long term business relationship and investment assistance in your Country.

My father of blessed memory deposited the sum of US$6,500, 000.00 in Bank with my name as the next of kin. However, I shall forward you with the necessay documents on confirmation of your acceptance to assist me for the transfer and investment of the fund in your country,As you will help me in an invsetment, and i will like to complete my studies, as i was in my fist year in the university, when the crisis started.

It is my intention to compensate you with 20% of the total money for your services and the balance shall be my investment capital. This is the reason why I decided to contact you. Please all communications should be through this email address only for confidential purposes.

As soon as I receive your positive response showing your interest I will put things into action immediately. In the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent message indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction sincerely. iam staying at the female hostel.

Awaiting your urgent and positive response. Please do keep this only to your self please i beg you not to disclose it till i come over , once the fund has been transfered,

Yours Fati 


Amazing.

Seriously?

I am technologically inept, and therefore cannot figure out how to turn this picture the way it's supposed to be, so I'm going to need you Peeps to tilt your heads to the right to see this how I've intended it to be seen.

Really, ladies?

Someone really took the time to shove toilet paper between the gap of the Handicap Stall.  If you're really afraid that someone is going to peer in at you, maybe you should rethink your use of public facilities.  

Duh.

Where in God's name is my tiara!

I got another award!

Alyssa at Alyssagoesbang has decreed that she digs my blog and has let her little niche of the interwebs know it!  I couldn't be more thrilled right now, mostly for the fact that I love attention.  I'm a shameless attention whore.  Woot!

Always with this stuff comes rules -- I don't like rules, but I follow them (sorta).

*Brag... Accept this Award.
*Thank the person who bestowed it upon you.
*Post 3 Facts about yourself (Alyssa says "interesting facts" but everything about me is interesting... just sayin').
*Pass this award out to 5 blogs you dig, and tell them about it.

So, here we are, celebrating my success, validation, propensity to be crazy and judgmental  humility, so this is where I put down my three (interesting) facts about myself...

1.)  I have to end every sentence in a punctuation of some sort. If there is a sentence left hanging open, it gives me anxiety.  It must be the English major in me.

2.)  My favorite food in the entire world is cheese fries.  I could eat and enjoy them every single day of my life and not get tired of it.  Honestly, I could even tell you my dream plate of cheese fries (though I'd hope to be able to change it up once in a while):  Steak fries, crispy, golden brown, sprinkled with salt, pepper, and grated cheese and layered with American and Pepperjack Cheese. Oh my good God, I am salivating right now.

3.)  If you couldn't already tell, I'm an attention whore - therefore, I do not like hearing anything about Christmas until December 3rd, because my birthday is December 2nd, and in my eyes (and more importantly, should be everyone else's) it is a holiday all its own. (If you want to give me gifts this year, my email address is ConnorsV1@gmail.com, we'll talk :p).  No Christmas talk until after my birthday! 

Now - to do something that I am not so good at, but am learning, I am passing this on to others!  Look at me, sharing! My friends would be so proud.

Mz. Sugar Free - She's so badass, it's amazing.
Everyday A - Even though she took a respite from blogging during the summer, she's so quirky, I've got a crush on her.
Dr. Cynicism - His classes inspire me.  You need to take his class.
Miss Sassy Pants - A new favorite place that I like to creep.  :) She has chickens and does ride-alongs with the police.
Seriously?? Really? Seriously?? - She is wonderful and will have you laughing your asses off while also simultaneously saying, did that really happen?

Go forth, and spread the love as I have had it spread upon me... or something.

Get your minds out of the gutter.

Laundry Rant, Part Deux

Peeps, I had to hit the Laundromat again today, and rather go to the place that made me want to jam needles in my eye, I opted for driving a little further in the opposite direction and headed to scope out a different laundromat called U-Wash Laundromat, circa 1976.

(Not as creative as Rub-A-Dub Laundromat, but my twenty-dollars-a-load probably went to buy the goddamn Sonny and Cher nameplates, and I wasn’t looking to invest in the new one for Barbie.)

First, the laundromat wasn’t where I thought it was supposed to be, so I ended up driving away from it at first… I know what you’re thinking, that’s my fault and yeah you’re right.  However, this wouldn’t be a rant if I blamed myself for something right? Right.  When I found it, I hopped out of the Elantra and meandered my way inside, trying to scope the place out.  I wasn’t going to make the same mistake of going unprepared.   Immediately I knew that it was not going to be the same experience I had at the Millionaire’s Laundromat.

First of all, there were no people speaking in Spanish (presumably about me) and looking over their shoulder.  I always think people speaking a different language in front of me are speaking about me, especially when I go get my eyebrowns waxed at the mall by the Vietnamese women at the nail salon – they ALWAYS seem to be talking about me.

The only person who happened to be using the laundromat facilities was an older gentleman wearing an ill-fitted Giants’ tee shirt. Seeing him, I knew I’d be able to take him if things got a little rowdy.  I walked in and searched to see if I had to buy the damn card here, too, but alas, they rely on good old American quarters.  Too bad I sold mine back to the damn bank after looking like a fool earlier in the week.


Secondly, none of the machines had name tags!  I was in a normal laundromat.  Success.


However, there was this one machine that looked like a toilet… it even had water pooled inside of it and looked like it had a toilet seat.  I was grossed out.




Thankfully, doing laundry at this place was MUCH cheaper than doing it over at the Millionaire's Club -- it only cost me about 5 bucks to do my load of laundry.  They weren't TOO bright, though, because I found a sign that said this:





What in God's name did they sell in that machine if it wasn't soap?

Rant. Be prepared.

Our washing machine broke, so logically I thought, Hey, I'll go to the laundromat and clean my clothes.  I'll be able to get more wash done there than I ever do at home, and it really shouldn't be all that expensive because I'll bring my own laundry detergent.  Success! 

No.  I can't even believe all the capitalist bullshit that there is at the laundromat.  I'm going to spell it out for you, because you people need to know this, too, so that you're forewarned.  THEY ARE RIPPING PEOPLE OFF!

Firstly, I need you all to know that I went to the laundromat a prepared little girl.  I purchased a roll of quarters from the bank before I went over, thinking I'd be ready and there'd be no surprises, ya know?  I'd get there, put all my clothes into a few different machines, and pop my little quarters in the machines and let them be on their merry way.  

No.  Of course not.  It couldn't POSSIBLY be that simple, could it? No.  I showed up and heaved my gigantic-ass laundry basket out of my car and into the building and stuff a load into one of the washers.  I pour my detergent into the machine and look to the front to load my quarters when I notice there is NO SPOT TO PUT IN CHANGE.  

What they want you to do at the lovely Rub-A-Dub Laundromat is to PURCHASE A FUCKING PLASTIC DEBIT CARD TYPE THING for three dollars out of a machine to then load with money to put in the washers and dryers.  They don't tell you that the machine only accepts five dollar bills and that you can't get the money off of it once you've put it on unless you find a (non-existent) manager or put your card in an envelope and drop it down a mail slot so they can "send you a check" in the mail. 

Yeah, okay.  I really believe that you're going to send me my $5.95 check.  Santa's coming to vacation with me, too. 

I look and there is a digitized sign and slot that tells me how much it's going to cost me to do this goddamn load:

Good Friggin' God.

Almost 7 FRIGGIN DOLLARS to wash my clothes?  Per Load!

Oh no.  Since that was the case, I shoved every single piece of clothing that I brought with me into a 55-gallon washing machine and figured I was only gonna pay almost-seven-dollars once, and I was gonna get the most out of it, and they can go fuck themselves with their seven dollars.  

Even better was that they all had names.  The machines had NAMES.  My dryer was....

Yoko

Of course, Yoko had to be near John.  Of course.

Who the hell decided that names on the washers and dryers were a good idea.  There could be numbers, there could be letters, there could be color-coded sections.  Those plastic little name tags that are tagged onto the machines are probably why the prices are jacked up.  Even better was that I must have been in the couples section, where fate and serendipity and whatever-the-hell-else there is out there could rub my singularity down my throat once more, as if I didn't get it enough in life.  Yoko and John were together, and were next to Ken and ____ (which I could only assume was Barbie, but the name tag was popped off) and Sonny and Cher.  

I can't believe it.  

DMV - A (semi) fictional tale

Okay, Peeps, if anyone cares, I posted (about half an hour ago) whether anyone would be interested in reading my creative writing shii---stuff from last year.  Of COURSE Maid Marian immediately said yes, so for her viewing pleasure and yours, here is the first installment of my ridiculousness that was actually submitted to a professor at MSU.  (Sort of embarassing, I must admit, but whatev.)

DMV

Saturday afternoon is finally here, but do you think I’m going to be able to relax?  No.  It’s possibly the worst day to be stuck at DMV.  Division of Motor Vehicle.  It should really stand for Death of My Vacation.  Stupid registration.  How was I supposed to know that it was expired?  “Maybe you should have looked at it once or twice,” said the cop.  Stupid pig.  He’s right.  This is my fault.  I’m not admitting that to anyone, though.

Could the old lady behind the counter take any longer?  What’s the deal, twenty minutes minimum?  They should have a fast-food-drive-thru for DMV.  3 minutes or less, or your registration is free.  I think her hair is getting progressively grayer by the minute.  I know mine is.  If DMV is anything like working in the post office, I’m not surprised people say “He went postal!”.  I’d kill myself if I had to be here every day, by choice.  Jesus.  And it’s not like they have comfortable seating, oh no.  I get the privilege to stand behind Mr. Smells-Like-Old-Bleu-Cheese while he fans himself, aren’t I lucky?

Oh good, the line moved a fraction of an inch forward.   I can actually read the old bat’s name tag.  Noreen (with a smiley face).  Just wonderful, I’m one step closer to acknowledging the poly-dent that’s crusting over her pricy porcelain pincers.  I’m sure by the time I get to the front of the line, she’ll have decayed into a pile of ashes, and I’ll be forced to the back of another ridiculous line until I, too, start to decay.

Ya know what really bothers me?  The scenery.  This place is God-Awful boring and I feel like I’m in jail.  The least they could do, since they keep everyone here for hours, is to paint the walls something other than dull, depressing, gun metal gray.  Honestly, how could they stand to be here for 8 hours a day?  I’d kill myself after a day or two of this. 

Okay, I’m next.  Thank God.  Maybe I’ll be out of here before the sun goes down.  You can bet your ass I’ll never be late with my registration again… I hope.  That’s a bullshit technicality anyway.  Once your car is registered it should stay registered.  Why do you have to renew it every friggin year?  I obviously still own the car, I still pay insurance on it, why do I have to get it registered?  Previous registration should count.  If not, it should be called “re-registration”.

            “Yes, how can I help you?” Death-Warmed-Over said.  “Yes, ma’am.  I need to update my registration.  It expired,” I’m trying to be polite.  “Ok,” she said, “just sign this, give me $45 and you’re on your way.”  I look at her, stunned.  You mean this is all I have to do?  Just sign a piece of paper and hand over some money?  I had to wait over an hour for thirty seconds of polite conversation? Un-fucking-believable.

Discovery

Kids, I've had sort of an A-Ha moment.

This afternoon while going through a lot of the stuff that I hoard in my room (a-la pack-rat-syndrome) and I came across my notebook/journal/scratch pad from the creative writing class that I took in my last semester of college almost a year ago.

I gotta say, I am pretty freakin' impressed with my skillz right now :)

I was wondering -- would anyone be interested in reading them?  I was thinking about posting them up to the awesome blog... ok, discuss amongst ya'selves. <3

"What A Week"

 "What A Week"
Sunday night, chit chat,
Empty promises,
"Baby, I miss you"'s, and all that.
Lost on Monday, missing Tuesday,
“What’s your schedule like?" on Wednesday.
Thursdays come and go, solo,
And I got my hopes up again for a no show.
Friday, I start to forget your name.
Saturday is much the same.
Slowly built up, but quickly let down,
It’s pretty pathetic I know the routine now.
All I wanted was some attention,
But you don't even deserve honorable mention.

Critical Alert

We are at code orange, or whatever the almost highest-level of alert is...

I need a hug.

Oh, yes, Peeps.  It's serious if I'm posting this shit on the awesome blog.  I'll tell you what happened and my story, and you kids can let me know if I'm just a big loser or if this happens to other people, too. Also, I'm giving my gentlemanpeeps fair warning that I'm going to be talking about "female issues" in this post, and not that I am encouraging post-skipping, I understand the levels of discomfort that boys have on this topic.  I feel a warning is very polite.  Okay, onto my issues.

Saturday started off as a good day.  Not a whole lot going on in the office, working with a cool bunch of peoples, we're laughing and having a good time, but all of a sudden it was like someone flipped my switch and I went from Happy Val to Moody Blues Val.  I couldn't rationalize it.  I just knew that I was miserable and that I needed to get happy asap.

I left job #1 and went to job #2 and hoped that during the time-off/commute I'd find myself in a better mood. (Most of the time singing a song in the car will shake me out of whatever it is I'm feeling.)  This did not work.  I went to job #2 and asked my partner for the night if I could take the anti-social role for the evening.  He agreed and asked me what was wrong, and I replied that I wasn't really sure, that maybe I was just getting my period because I had no real reason.  He says, "Are you serious?  I thought that was just a myth."

Really?

So... now I'm flabbergasted on many levels. Boys really don't understand, and neither do I sometimes.  Do you ladypeeps get all uncontrollably moody during "that time" or is it just me? Also, does anyone ever get the overwhelming sensation to be held/receive hugs for long periods of time?

I hate being a girl sometimes.

"Whatever will be"

The idea from this response to the Indie Ink Challenge came from both a Maroon 5 song and a conversation with a friend.  It didn't necessarily happen this way, but my mind is a strange place to be... so... voila...

"Whatever Will Be"

The cool air was blowing against my sunburned skin as we made our way along the Garden State Parkway.  The only music we had to listen to was coming out of the miniscule speakers of her iPhone.  I resisted the urge to praise her for thinking of this, because though I appreciated the music, I wasn’t going to let her tell me “I told you so”; I was okay with the radio, even if we did hear the same song 4 times in 2 hours. 

She was laid back and relaxed, mindless humming the melody of whatever song was playing and taping her fingers against the arm rest.  I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, the explosion, if you will, of the silence, to which I would no longer be able to keep quiet about.  She and I are very similar, so I knew it was coming, I just wasn’t sure when.  Turns out it was sooner rather than later.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” she asked, suddenly, jarring me out of my inner thoughts. 

“What do you mean,” I answered back, way too quickly to fool anyone that I wasn’t just stalling for time.

“Don’t play dumb,” her tone clipped short on single-syllable words.  I could hear the roll of her eyes, it was so apparent.  She knew what I’d respond, too, so I kept it to myself while I searched for the right words to say.

I let out a sigh, not really sure what to say or how much to divulge, but it was in vain; I knew I was going to spill my guts.  “I just keep hoping that things will be different, ya know?  Like, somehow she’ll get that she’s being a tool, and just snap out of it.  I’m waiting for things to go back to normal, like how they used to be…. I know, I know, it’s not going to go back to that, because this is what it is, but I just keep having hope.”  It is at this point that I’d let my head hang in my hands, but I don’t because I’m driving and I definitely don’t need to hear about Jersey drivers.

She just gives me a look, one that you expect, but still hurts when it hits you.  “You deserve so much better” she says, like I don’t know that.

“Listen, I am the first person to agree!   If anyone told me all this, I would be the first person to tell them that it’s not worth it, and that this is not going to end well, and that they deserve the world, not this petty bullshit, but….”

“… But what?  What could you really say here to defend this inappropriate behavior?”

“I just… I know what it used to be.”

“Well, it’s not that way anymore, is it?”

“No, but…”

“No buts.”

Love is frustrating; it’s not puppies and sunshine and rainbows, it’s cold and painful.  I lean forward a little in my seat, and my burned skin drags me back to the present.  It hurts, and it's going to hurt until it heals. 

I keep hoping that things will be different, or go back to how it used to be, but I just keep getting smacked in the face with reality – you can never go back, you must keep going forward.

  It will always be this way.

The song changes, and the sharp chords of "Misery" comes through the tiny little speakers.  Sometimes fate steps in and shows you the real deal.

***
My prompt comes from the most awesome Liz Culver:  "It will always be this way." (Liz's most recent post is about sex... go read it :)  I challenged Carrie to write about an origami swan, and the response, I'm sure, will be sharp.

Hurricane Irene part deux

I really hope that everyone is okay after Hurricane (not so fucking nice) Irene came through with her PMS-Bitch-Face and made a mess of things. <3

Hurricane Irene

Dear Fellow New Jersey Residents:  

Please stop acting like you've never lived through a storm before.  This is nothing new to us.  We need to prove that, even with things like "The Jersey Shore" that we can handle ourselves with a level of decorum.  Or, to put it more plainly... grow a set, ok?

No Water

No Bread

No Spam.

Suck it up, Peeps!

"Journey to the Past"

^{Indie Ink time, again, Peeps.  This week I was challenged by the most wonderful Jen O. of My Tornado Alley, who in my opinion, is more delicious than a donut.  I, in turn, challenged the Flaming Nyx, who awesomely answered my challenge Here.}

^{"Journey to the Past"}

^{We sat on the edge of the porch, my son and I.  I’ve come to appreciate the time that we have together, to be able to talk freely, and understand that our relationship has evolved over time, from parent and child to friends.  We talked of life, of the old days in the old country, and reality.  After many conversations about philosophy and love and life, I found the courage to share something with my kin, my blood, which, given different outcomes, would have changed our lives forever.}

^{“On my way home, down old Tilley Road, is where I met the love of my life.}

^{I had just come from the market, where my mother had sent me, like she did every week, to pick up the groceries that we’d need for the week.  It was always the same items, too.  I could find them as quick as anything because I now knew the store like the back of my hand.  Spaghetti, fresh mozzarella cheese, some spices, a pound of ground beef, and a bag filled with one carrot, one red onion, celery, a cucumber, and a jar of olives.} 

^{The walk to the market was long, down a winding mountain trail.  Going down to the market wasn’t bad; it was the walk back up that was the pain.  Climbing up the mountain with the groceries under the high noon sun was tiring.  As I was making my ascent up towards the village, I saw her.  She was stumbling up the trail, over the rocks, like she’d never made this trip before.  She was young, seventeen, maybe, and so simply wholesome that you couldn’t help but try and protect her.} 

^{Her chestnut hair blew out behind her like a fan was positioned directly in front of her.  Her dress swayed against her hips, rhythmically.  Her slender legs took deliberate, but tentative steps over the rocky terrain.} 

^{I called to her, but she did not turn.} 

^{I moved faster, hoping to catch up with her, but she held her own.  I was drawn to her; she was my gravitational pull while we trudged the mountain trail together.  She was my sun, my north star, my guiding light.} 

^{She reached the summit before me, and I knew I was going to lose her.} 

^{When I got to the top, she was gone.  I never saw her again.”}

^***

^{My Prompt was : On the way home, down old Tilley Road...} 

Update

Peep this, Peeps!

I received the best phone call last night from a friend, and immediately knew I had to share this with you.

I sat here watching the Giants game, minding my own business, when the phone started singing "Moves like Jagger".  (Whatever, don't even try to judge me... Moves like Jagger is the most awesome song to come out this year. Youtube it and thank me.)  I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Leina, and, knowing she was supposed to be at work, I thought something might be wrong, so I answered, curious.

She immediately started yelling at me.

"Thank God you answered the phone!  I just had your best friend in here and as soon as she opened her mouth, I wanted to kill you.  Why weren't you here to save me like I saved you?"

I had no idea what she was talking about until she clued me in...

"The lady said she was going to China."

Not really the Crazy Lady off to China, but you know... 

OMG PEEPS!  It's the Crazy Lady off to China!  You may remember her from an earlier post (which you can find here).  Leina got the update!

Apparently, she is still training for her Great Wall of China visit with her ancient mother... have no fear, though, she doesn't disappoint in the hilarity department.

She told Leina that she spends too much money (as she's buying coffee) and Leina says, "Isn't that awful when you realize that?"  The lady agrees, but then explains that she spent money for a good reason.  She donated $50 dollars to a woman in Parsippany whose dog needed neurological surgery or it would never walk again...

::shakes my head:::

How does this happen?

::Head Slap::

Yesterday found Sunshine as a stupid person.



Yes, it's true.  It happens, even to the best of us.  (meaning me)

To explain what happened, I first have to go back and explain to you when my moment of clarity happened, and then we can skip back to regular time. All that to just tell you I'm going to start from the beginning.  Forgive me, Peeps, it's been a long day.

Last week, as I was preparing to drive Mormon and his wife, Bad Mormon, to the airport for their vacation to Utah (couldn't make this up if I tried), I stopped at Dunkin Donuts to pick up my new favorite drink, a Hazelnut coffee coolata.  My most loyal followers will know that I live for anything coffee-and-hazelnut flavored, so this was supposed to be a happy trip to make.

Unfortunately, it was here, at my most beloved coffee shop, that I realized how awful human nature really is.

The girl behind the counter looked at me and said "how are you".  No "hi".  No inflection in her voice that made me think she actually knew that she was asking a question, rather than making a statement.  In short...

SHE DIDN'T FUCKING CARE HOW I WAS.

So, then and there, I vowed not to ask anyone "how are you" because we all know that we don't really care what the answer is... we just say it to be polite.  We're sheep.  We do it because other people do it, and we know that they expect us to do it.  But we don't care.

Anywho, so yeah, at work yesterday, as I sat in the dull-but-well-air-conditioned drive thru, I made my mistake.  A lady in a minivan drove up to the first lane and without thinking I just said "hi, how are you?".  THAT will teach me.

She replied with "Horrible.  I just got a ticket."

I said, "Oh, I'm sorry.  That sucks.  I don't really know what to say."

She said "Well, you asked."

I wanted to respond with "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO RESPOND WITH "I'm good, how are you?"?!?!?!?!?!?!" Didn't get the memo, obviously.

::rolls eyes:::
This happen to you, Peeps?

"Perplexed"

Hello Peeps and welcome to the weekend!

I have to admit, I felt pretty bad that I write more to my "Multifaceted" story this week, and with the prompting of my friend Arnold*, I dug deep and pulled out a little more.  For those of you who liked those characters, here they are, a little different, a little skewed, and a little more developed.  I hope you enjoy. 

“Perplexed”
I walked into the kitchen and you would have thought I had stepped into a war zone the way she looked at me with fear blazing in her eyes.  She stood, crouched into a vertical fetal position, armed with a bottle of Windex in one hand and a faded brown flip flop in the other.  If I didn’t know her better, and what she could do to me with that flip flop and Windex, I’d have laughed in her face.

I’m a tough guy, but even I wouldn’t incur the wrath that is she when she feels backed into a corner.  Or, in this case, onto our dining room chair.

The scene is ridiculously hilarious, but more so if you knew just how far she would go to be brave.  She’s so strong, independent, that one might wonder what happened to her to turn her out this way.  She is smart, so smart.  She uses words I’ve never even heard of, much less can pronounce, and she says them with a confidence that lets you know that she means business.  She’s the girl who can fix her own car, her own computer, and her own mistakes.  She doesn’t need anyone’s help or anyone’s pity.  She handles whatever comes at her with finesse and determination.  She can’t be intimidated, provoked, or dissuade from getting what she wants.

She’s no pink-glitter-hugs-and-unicorns kind of girl; she’ll kick your ass if you get in her way.

And yet, here she is, the love of my life, standing on a chair across from our kitchen, about to go to war with cleaning materials and accessories.

“Baby?” I asked, tenderly, uneasy as to how I should proceed with her.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she said, as she started to unfold herself from her attack position.  “I can’t take this.  Where have you been?  Don’t you know it’s your job to ki—aaaah!”
Just as she was about to come down from the chair, I heard a loud screeching sound come from the kitchen, which had her back up on her perch, armed and dangerous.

I recognized the sound but couldn’t place it; it was not where it should be.  I turned to see what it was, and recognized it immediately.

My badass girlfriend was afraid of a cricket.

“Don’t just stand there,” she practically screamed, “get it!”

“Relax…. Seriously…. Relax,” I said, and almost immediately knew this was the wrong thing to say.  Me and my big, unfiltered mouth.

“Relax? Relax? Don’t tell me to relax!”

Uh oh.

“I don’t know who you think you are trying to tell me to relax but I have been here in a god damn panic for nearly an hour trying to figure out what the hell to do with this thing!  I tried to kill it and it jumped up and smacked me clear in the face and I almost had a seizure.  I thought about hiding into the bathroom until it just disappeared but what would I do if it crawled under the door and came in with me!?!  Where would I go then?  Can crickets crawl?  I don’t know, but I can’t take this.  Just help me, okay?”

It’s times like these that I fall for her harder.

“Why don’t you get down from there,” I said, pulling out my wallet and handing her a twenty. “You can leave your weapons with me.  We’ll get your things from the other room, and you can go get us some coffee.  I’ll have everything taken care of by the time that you get back.  Does that sound good?”

What I really want to say to her is "Grow the hell up!  Just because I'm the man doesn't mean I wanna do this any more than you do!  Where are my friggin' rights?"

But, I don't, because let's face it, that'll never work.

Anyway, she's finally coming out of panic-mode.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good, okay.”

I followed her through the house and walked her to the door, hoping that she wouldn’t have another panic attack in the time it took to gather her crap and get out of the house.  I watched her pull out of the driveway and around the corner before I shut the front door.

I leaned against the door and knew I was in trouble.

I’m petrified of crickets, too.  What the hell am I going to do?

***

I hope you liked this, too.  Arnold wants me to keep going with it, so I'm going to give it more time and effort this week, and maybe I'll have something new for you guys that isn't a rant and rave about stupid people I meet at work.   <3

*Arnold is not actually her name.  But, I find it hilarious, so I go with it. :)