I’m over at The Indie Chicks today talking about social media and relationships. Because we all know I give great advice.
http://theindiechicks.com/love-and-sex/5-ways-to-tweet-yourself-single/
And, while you’re there, check them out and don’t forget the campaign that’s going on now. You can donate as little as $10 to keep them on the shelves!
I was invited to a blog hop and I got nominated for another Liebster award! Squee!
But I’m terrible at these things and I forgot to hit send on the email about the hop – I know, right? And the questions for both the hop and the award seem really hard right now. So I’m gonna make up my own questions and nominate EVERYONE I KNOW. Yes. If you are reading this, I have just nominated you for the Liebster award, you little awesome thing you. Here are the questions:
1. I have a headache. I’m skipping this question.
2. Who do you miss right now? My dad. I just texted with him and I wish he was here. My grandpa, who passed away last year. My brother, who just moved farther away from me.
3. Who do you wish was in school right now? Haha. Couple more weeks then blessed SILENCE for HOURS EVERY SINGLE DAY!
4. What’s your favorite video game? All the God of War games and Balder’s Gate. I might’ve spelled that wrong, but I have a headache.
5. What’s your most used excuse? I have a headache. Except don’t use that for sex because sex actually helps relieve headaches and I probably shouldn’t get into the how and why but I will tell you it has to do with blood flow. To your lady parts.
So, I’m calling that good! Thanks to Cassandra at The Next Delusion for inviting me to the hop, Jeff and Jill of Jeff and Jill Went Up the Hill for adding me to the hop after my email failure, and Tempest Rose of Nonsense and Shenanigans for the nomination.
They are nuts, but they’re my nuts.
Me: *referring to Thing 2* He’s like an accident waiting to happen.
Thing 1: Him? No, he’s an accident that already happened.
Thing 3: So can I live with you forever, even when I’m a grownup?
Me: Erm, yeah, I guess so.
Thing 3: Good. And even when I have kids?
Me: Sure.
Thing 3: Okay. And can I make my babies here?
Me:…
Thing 3: Why did you close your eyes?
Husband: Sorry for being a pain in the ass.
Me: It’s okay.
Him: You always say okay. You never say, “You’re not a pain.”
Me: Yeah. Cause it’s okay.
Thing 2, having a nosebleed: I don’t think it’s healthy for this much blood to be coming out of my face.
Me: I don’t think it’s healthy for any blood to be coming out of your face.
And here are some things I found written in my notebook, in my handwriting. Weird.
1. FFS, HCB, YRAFI
2. This shit is reasonable.
3. I know that this feeling of dread that is SMOTHERING me is completely unreasonable.
4. I appreciate that, sociopath.
5. Do you mean hard to love?
6. You don’t want sperm on your laptop.
What’s the silliest thing you’ve heard lately? Is your family as crazy as mine? Do you write yourself notes and then not remember what you were talking about?
When Thing 2 was about 4 years old I made the mistake of putting his bed beneath a window.
A friend of mine was visiting along with her daughter, and we had left the kids inside while we went to look at my flowers. There were two older kids in charge, and the windows were open so we’d hear any screaming. Seemed legit.
I had a bench in the garden that faced the house. We could see the kids playing through the window. We could hear them laughing and talking. We could see Thing 2 press his face against the screen. That’s when we both leapt up and yelled NO!
It was too late. Down he went, ass over teakettle. Luckily, the window was only about four feet off the ground and the ground was soft dirt covered in leaves. So he was more scared than hurt. So was his mother.
When I was about 20 I got hit head on by a little old lady without a driver’s license. It was a similar feeling of seeing in slow motion this horrible thing and being unable to stop it.
Raising kids I feel like that a lot. Not to that extent, but just a vague sort of constant worry. What if, what if, what if? Then they go and do some normal everyday thing and break bones doing it. If you are reading this, children, yes I am referring to breaking bones while walking and while swinging on the monkey bars. Neither of those things did I ever worry about. I also never imagined my child would throw himself out of a window.
We all know that worry is pointless and bad for our health. But it is so hard to stop. My mom worried about us kids all the time, I’m sure. But I bet she never worried that my brother would break his nose by running into a 2 x 4. So worrying really is pointless. Our kids are never going to catch leprosy or whatever weird shit we’re stressing over. They’re going to do something stupid and fall out a window.
Have you ever seen something about to happen and been unable to stop it? Do you worry as much as I do? Do your kids do stupid shit?
Apparently I’ve always been a little weird. The other day I was doing a little stalking browsing on Facebook and ended up having to break out my old yearbooks. I got to reading the messages that people wrote in them and noticed a theme. The most-mentioned terms were “weirdness” or “goofiness” or “craziness.”
This led me to think back on my early years, to try and figure out just what exactly got me voted “Most Unforgettable.”
Here’s what I came up with:
In the 6th grade my mom found a nest of baby mice in her dresser drawer. While she was chasing the momma mouse down the hall with a broom, I was preparing a final resting place for the babies. I took a small box and filled it with Easter grass and wrapped it carefully. Then I buried it in the yard with due ceremony. I felt very proud of my humanity and the dignity in which I laid those mice to rest. Until my mother pointed out later that they were still alive when I buried them. I swear to you, it NEVER EVEN OCCURRED to me that I was burying them alive. Not once.
In the 7th grade I put an egg on the heat register of a classroom where the teacher taught us the value of using only one square of toilet paper in the restroom. This was ostensibly World History but we learned much more than that, including that a rotten egg smells terrible and the joke was on me as I was one of the people who had to smell it.
Also in 7th grade I used fake tanner. Only on my legs. I was (still am) whiter than white and I hated it (still do) but I was too lazy to apply the tanner everywhere, so I had very dark legs and very white everything else. I wish I had a picture of this ridiculousness. This was after I got sunburned so badly that I literally had blisters on my ass cheeks. I guess I felt like half tan was better than burnt to a crisp.
This, except opposite.
In 8th grade I had one of those sharks in a jar like you get from the beach. Normal enough, except my best friend and I decided to open it up and dissect it. Why, you ask? I have no fucking idea. This was also the year that a teacher asked what I wanted to be when I grew up and my answer was “eccentric.” I think I nailed that one.
In the 9th grade I decorated my shoes with multicolored yarn so that my feet closely resembled Fraggles. If you don’t know what Fraggles are, you are too young to be here.
In the 10th grade, my Home Ec vest project was such a disaster that I wrapped it in wet paper towels and threw it away in the bathroom, hoping that no one would be gross enough to investigate. They weren’t, but I still got an F.
In the 11th grade I wore those tall white socks with the colored stripes around the top. With shorts. Who am I kidding, I still wear those. I love those socks.
All through high school I used to skip school to go on my own private field trips. My best friend and I would go to zoos, drive through safaris, and animal rescues, where we would do irresponsible things like climb fences to pet elephants, feed Cheetos to monkeys, and get sprayed by ligers. Note: Monkeys will give you a rash. It’s unfortunate.
I still don’t really get it. None of those things seem exceptionally nutty to me…but then, my scale of weird may be different than others. What’s something you’ve done that people thought was crazy?
We Don't Chew Glass 