So many things happened during the year. Some good, some bad. Our first family trip to Disneyland, our first broken kid bone, a shit ton of glorious car troubles (GO TEAM HONDA!), a new home. For all the good moves I made there were plenty of mistakes too. Such is life, right?
I’d make some resolutions, but hey, who wants to put stuff in black and white that they possibly won’t have time to get around to? Not I. And like the overplayed hipster NYE anthem I used as my blog title (Death Cab) says, resolutions are just: for self assigned penance & problems with easy solutions. Yes, I need to focus on being more fit/healthy with my food choices. That is something I want. I need to not always say yes to every single favor asked of me because it makes me exhausted and grumpy. I could be more grateful for what I have in love and life. When one sits around and nitpicks the things that could be done better in this life there are plenty of improvement opportunities. However, the things that are good in my world far outnumber the struggles. I can't complain!
Things may not be perfect, but tonight I am going to be serving root beer floats to two of my most favorite people on the planet. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.
PS- Also in 2011 I did drink my first beer ever. Yes I am a sissy girl and I just don't like beer. It's icky. However, my cute pal Meggi did convince me to try a Lunch Box (a beer with orange juice & a shot of amaretto) and it wasn't too bad after all! Of course, I still haven't had another beer, but hey it could happen if someone doctored one up again for me.
'Carol Of The Bells' or 'The-Most-Scary-As-Shit-Christmas-Song-Of-All-Time'?You decide.
*flashback fades in*
January 1986. West Jordan, Utah. Terra Linda Elementary School. I am 6-years-old. I have on a rad purple striped shirt with coordinating beads. Pretty much the epitome of cool. And, today, we are going to watch the Space Ship take off! That sure as hell sounds better than lame ass math, yep. Woot!
So we all pile into the gathering area, AKA us plopping on the floor in front of a TV on a cart. It's on a news channel so obviously as a pile of kids, we're completely engaged in watching the TV. My floor-neighbor, whose last name was Davenport, was poking me in the back about every 3 to 4 seconds. He was a fella with blue eyes that I was certain I would marry (and my mother wrote something in his Valentine from me that year that I still to this day have no idea what it said, and of course now she cannot remember). Of course, I just looked him up on Facebook and if it is the dude who first came up, well I think I dodged a bit of a bullet not marrying him after all. Alas, everything happens for a reason I suppose.
Anyway, so we are sitting there watching a bunch of boring stuff waiting for THE SPACESHIP!!!! to take off. There is a teacher on board, a lady teacher. So this is cool to us, sort of, as we wait. Finally, there is a countdown and this shit happens...
Obviously, none of us really get it. "Is there a fire on the spaceship, teacher?" which was answered with "I don't know sweetie, let's watch Old Yeller instead, OK?" And she put on the movie and went off to talk with the other teachers. It was weird. I mean, why in the world are we watching this ancient ass Dog movie? Maybe it was a ploy to knock us all out from the boredom.
Well, by the time we got out of school we knew that the shuttle had exploded. And we had seen that happen real time. It was all anyone could talk about. It was sad. It was crazy! And so later that night I was watching TV with my daddy and they replayed the footage, except they set it to 'The Carol of the MotherFucking Bells'probably because it was still near the Christmas Season, I don't know why, it sounds stupid, but they did. I think it was to create drama and freak everyone out. And it worked...on me.
So now I associate that song with some scary ass shit I once saw at school. And heck, this song is just screaming horror movie anyway, at least in my opinion. To this day it stirs up emotion.
(My teenage parents got a Polaroid camera for a wedding gift. All of my baby pics are Polaroids. This makes people laugh at me and call me "hood". Thanks pals!)
My name is Charissa (Shuh-Ris-Ah) however I pretty much respond to whatever you decide to call me. Everyone butchers my name all the time. I just go along with whatever version fits the speaker's need, you know, like a term of endearment or something. It was so bad that Kindergarten – 6th grade I just went by my nickname of Chrissy. Kept it simple.
(Check out this sweet outfit and hair combo. I pulled the shirt out of my mom's closet, used a lot of safety pins to hide my nonexistent boobies, and gave myself some hideous, fluffy ass hair-do. Shame.)
I am the oldest of five children, one sister and three brothers. So I tend to want to mother and take care of everyone a lot. If it ever starts to bug you just tell me to shut it.
(This is all of us minus my baby brother Preston.)
Joey and I have two sons, for their privacy & the fear that one day they will hate me for it, I don’t use their real names in my blog. Plus my nicknames for them (Sookie Pookie and Double D) are far too enchanting to not use to describe them every day! Maybe I can even use it as a threat since these days what happens on the internet stays on the internet. Threats are the key to good parenting.
(The little dudes)
As far as work goes I have an awesome job as a Customer Service Manager and spend my days running a call center. Due to that fact though I have to be super careful about things and I don’t share any stories about work, which would make for super funny blogs, but hey this… is life. I’m actually kind of a freak about it and will go to great lengths to protect my personal life and work from crossing paths. I should probably lighten up a little bit, but I won’t.
As far as my personal interests go I really like to write, play guitar, whine (I don’t like to be cold, hungry, bored, or without my phone), and spend time with the fam and friends. I am constantly doing something; I struggle to just be sometimes. There is always something to do, someone to talk to, some problem to solve. And I probably annoy my Twitter pals to no end, but those that love me don’t mind, or at least ignore me.
In closing, this really isn't a much improved bio, but it gave me something to do besides go to sleep, because who needs sleep anyway??
(This is my most recent photo. November 2011. I really shouldn't have given myself this fringe after watching a how-to video on youtube. Really.)
Writer’s block, I’ve got a case of it. I half-start about ten bajillion posts and then delete them. I want to write about everything and anything ranging from ‘Moving’ to ‘First School Experiences’ (to include detailed recaps of my outfits. Kindergarten – purple. Boss.) to ‘The Overwhelming Desire That I Have to Tear Apart a Bunch of Clothes And Sew Them Back Together to Form Uber Awesome Fashion Pieces’.
Yet most nights instead of whipping up these glorious bits of literary genius entertainment, I find myself instead on the phone all night, helping my youngest draw up tortoises – which are SO not the same thing as turtles as I’ve been heavily reminded repeatedly, cleaning the house like a superfreak – superfreak, or watching ‘Sister Wives’ on Netflix (PS – I don’t get why those ladies all love that dude so much, he’s kind of a lame! PPS – I just started watching this show and I’m not 100% why I am intrigued, but I am and well, it’s something to do to not do something, I guess). Where is my mind?
I think in times of late I have just had a lot on my plate, starting with work, family, and moving house after 10-YEARS (I feel so old to have had my own home for 10-years already. Holyyyy shit dudes!). Hopefully soon I can start writing again more consistently. More than just short poems saved in the memo app of my phone. More than just work emails. More than just simple replies to the homies on Social Networking sites via phone. I want to write something real. OK? Please & thanks!
Lately my interests range from Fashion to Politics, from Parenting to Business Management. I’m all over the place. Adult A freakin D to the D yo! If I could keep up with everything I want to do I wouldn’t have time to sleep, which I already don’t do a lot of anyway, just ask Twitter. I want to play my guitar, and paint, and decorate my house, and cook, and run/go to yoga (OH UNIVERSE, PLEASE HELP A GIRL FIND HER WAY BACK TO A REGULAR WORKOUT PLAN, PUHLEEZE!) and obviously, I can go on and on and on like a lame version of the energizer bunny who just doesn’t have enough hours in the day to keep on going and going and going... And I want to do all of these things simultaneously whilst eating good (I’ll leave “good” open for interpretation) food and laying in bed unwinding from a hectic business day snuggling my Chihuahua. Thanks brain. Is it too early to start resolutioning for the New Year?
I am currently stranded in my house. My car is broken down because it is from hell and has been in the hands of some jerkface shop for 8-days now. That being said aside from going a little bit cabin-fevery, I am bored. So guess what that means? I'm gonna write some useless bit of info here for all to read, or not read, in all of it's boring glory (and that little saying has me thinking of Morning Glories, the prettiest of all losery weeds). Woo!
Celebrity crushes. We all had them (or still do) at some point in our lives. These perfect folks that command our attention from time to time. Sometimes for years. Sometimes we look back and think "Seriously?? Really? I told people you were cute?" Well, since I am so currently involved in life (aka watching Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 for the 5th time this week with the little dude) I have decided it would be cool to create a timeline of my life using my celebrity crushes. This will probably date me more than I want, but it's the price you pay for being a bored person.
First Crush Ever - Rick Savage. It's the 80s. I'm probably the ripe old age of maybe 6 or 7. And all of my older cousins are way into Def Leppard. And they're watching music videos on MTV when that was what they actually showed. And I see this dude, bass playing so of course I think he is brilliant, a real musical hero. From England. And I think he's cute. Maybe one day we can meet and get married, yeah that would be cool. Now, at the time I don't realize that the dude is my dad's same age and way too old already for the likes of my Terra-Linda-Elementary-School-attending self. I just thought he was (he's old now, and well, not cute anymore) awesome. And so it began...
So fast forward to 1992. And everyone (my co-7th grade homies) is not allowed to own the Nirvana or Metallica tapes that are the coolest thing out. Everyone but ME. Because my parents are not uber religious like the parents of all of my friends. So everyone came to my house to listen to the "good stuff". And so we hung out and listened to and watched Nirvana. And I could not help but notice that this crazy dude Kurt Cobain was kinda.. sorta.. a little bit of a babe. I mean, he had pretty rad eyes and didn't give a shit what anyone thought, ever. Does it get any cooler? Maybe one day we could meet, and get married. Yeah....
That of course was the story until things changed. My life changed the day 'My So Called Life' came out. Claire Danes (who is basically my exact same age, I think she's like 2-weeks older than me) is playing a 15-year-old girl (which we are at the time) and her love interest in the one and only Jared Leto aka Jordan Catalano. He is the most perfect guy I had ever seen both on TV and well, in real life he's alright too. And so when he decided to start a band when I was 22, I totally didn't become obsessed for a good 5-years, make friends with other obsessed, crazed fangirls, noo..... JK, but it was worth being embarrassingly into this band because it brought me at least 6 or 7 of the best friends I have ever had. I love my girls. And there are so many people that I know today only because of 30 Seconds to Mars. Thank you Jordan frickin' Catalano!
So towards the end of my high school days there's this dude in all of the up and coming coming-of-age flicks. Freddie Prinze Jr. And I can't help but notice, he is like the cutest... dude... ever. I mean adorable. I see him and think, "Wow, if I could just meet this dude, we could totally fall in love, and get married. Yeah." And I live happily in crush-land, until Sarah Michelle Gellar's lame ass comes along and MARRIES him. Shattering my fairy tale love life. Thanks Sarah. I don't ever get along very well with girls named Sarah. This has been a life trend. Weird.
And then time goes on and I've grown up, found out about real non-crush love myself, have two little kiddos of my own and, well crushes go on the back burner to real life. They are no longer exciting, or well, valuable. Celebs are just people, probably rude ones, especially the boy ones I would assume. That is until I discover The Strokes and find out about Julian Casablancas aka The Coolest Dude Alive. And he's kind of a bit of a fox ;) He is a brilliant singer/song writer who also shares my love for music by The Doors. And well, so again I think he is pretty awesome, of course. I'd probably not label this one as of much as a crush since, well, I don't really do crushes anymore. Ha!
Well that is the end of my personal time line o' lame-ass celeb crushes. That wasn't as entertaining as I had hoped, but it helped me kill some time while the chihuahua movie played for one kid, and while the other said mean things about his brother into his Auto-Tune app on his ipod. Anyone else have a list they wanna share with me? Isn't it funny how much our opinions change as we evolve? Eventually we all do, grow up.
This is the only of my celeb crushes I actually got to meet:
Do you ever pause when asked what your favorite movie is? Are there just too many to list? Or are you mildly shamed by the silliness of your top picks? Well, that said since this is often the popular question that seems to come up I think I am gonna write about my top 5 movies, given at gut response (meaning not taking days to overthink it and pick apart my choices).
I pride myself on not being a romantic/chick flick lover when it comes to movies, but then every movie (almost, but not all) I am about to share with you has a romantic story. So, guess I'm a bit of a hypocrite sometimes. Oh well. When you're done reading my list, and of course watching ALL of these trailers, share with me your favorite movies. Maybe we can enlighten each other to some new favs, eh?
1)Urban Cowboy - The first thing I have to tell people is that one of my favorite movies is Urban Cowboy. Yeah. I know. Now this flick is a little 80s gem that most people either love or find completely annoying. I think it is completely awesome. I can't remember when I first saw it, I was a little kid that much I remember. And it stars John Travolta in the lead role of Bud, a cowboy and Debra Winger plays Sissy his cowgirl wife. FYI - all of my sibs call me Sissy, and Sissy also has curly hair in this movie - so obviously I can relate, haha! Anyway, they have a lot of relationship issues as couples who rush into marriage young often do, people try to get in between them, they have attitude problems, and well drama ensues. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it caused me to continuously search the earth for a mini license plate with my name on it (as a child I didn't realize this would have to be a custom endeavor and one would never exist in nature) for most of my life. Long story short, I will always dig this movie.
So here are a few clips from this movie that I think are so rad. And you probably won't want to watch this whole thing 'cause it's a little bit long, but I'm cheesing it up watching it right now. Ha!
2) The Shining - If you haven't already heard of The Shining, well, that's probably not even a realistic way to start a sentence. This film is one of my favorites of all time. And not only because it was written by my hero Stephen King, but also because it was written into a fantastic screenplay and directed so amazingly. It was beyond it's time cool and still remains so even with the enhancements to technology. Of course it is the story of a couple played by John Nicholson and Shelly DuVall who moved with their young son to the Overlook Hotel for the winter to stay as caretakers. It should have just been them in the hotel, but of course there was something else there too, something paranormal, something beyond each of them. Oh, I get excited even speaking of it. Such a perfect movie.
3) The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - This movie stars Jim Carrey as the character Joel. A man who is an introvert, a quiet person who sketches and doesn't step far out of his comfort zone. One day Joel meets a girl named Clementine played by the ever lovely Kate Winslet, an eccentric and wildly outgoing person. Of course they fall for each other, but then it takes a turn for the worse. And, low and behold, there happens to be a clinic that offers to erase unwanted memories and gives people a fresh start. Throughout this movie they maintain such a strong connection that cannot be broken. So creative, so fascinating. I really advocate for watching the movie twice. The second time everything falls into place and really makes a lot more sense. And I do have to say, I really believe that Jim Carrey may be one of my favorite actors of all time. Oh, and if I should ever have a baby girl someday, I intend to name her with the torturous name of Clementine because I love this movie so much. I am seriously not even kidding.
4)Muriel's Wedding - This has got to be one of the coolest little lesser known flicks I have ever seen. Muriel Heslop is the ugly duckling and less popular chick (played by Toni Collette of The 6th Sense and United States of Tara) that is always listening to Abba and plotting out her wedding right down to the tiniest detail. Well, things start looking up for Muriel and the most amazing and not so amazing things happen to her. You should definitely not judge this one on how cheesy it looks on the outside. It's great. Oh and I didn't mention the movie is set in Australia? I love everything Australia related, just ask my Australian Twitter pals Ash and Matt. Haha!
5) Stranger Than Fiction - In my opinion, and I'm no film major/or even expert in any way, this film is extremely well done. I love the storyline, the characters, the approach to everything. Harold Crick, played by Will Farrell, is a tax auditor who starts to fall for an opposite personalitied baker played by Maggie Gyllenhaal. And then one day he starts to hear someone narrating his life, and disaster is called out to ensue. I love the meaning this film brings to light in so many ways. I've quoted it often and been very impressed. And one time this person once mentioned to me that there is a part of this movie that reminded them of me. And since I love this movie will pretty much all of my guts, I thought that was super awesome. Ha! Anyway, it's another one that I recommend watching two times. I probably say that because I have kids that make it impossible to even type a sentence here without being interrupted 15-20 times, but still. More than once and it is even better! A must see.
One hot summer day, oh gosh, a few years ago, I was watching my nephew while my brother in law went to an appointment. I had to drop him off at this appointment so I had 3 little boys to hang out with. Alone. Lucky me!
We had an hour or two to kill so I decided to take my youngest, who was still a toddler at the time, to get a haircut. Now taking this kid (total OCD-child, tantrum thrower extraordinaire) was no easy task, but he also had the wildest crazy hair/was at that homeless-person point that a haircut could be avoided no more. Now, it’s not what you think, not your typical mom walks in, booster chair and animal smock, get a lolly pop for being a good wittle boy in the end type of experience. We are talking the process is that the kid sits in my lap, we both get the aprons on us, and I hold him down and convince him that getting a haircut is a walk in the park/distract him. Mega wiggles/freak out. There could be tears or uncontrollable laughter, from either/both of us, depending on the day.
So we stop at some haircut place. And before we go in I turn to the two older boys and tell them if they are good kids (while I go through haircut-hell) I would take them immediately after for ice cream cones. You know, because bribery is one of the best tools in the parent tool kit yo. They promise to comply.
We go into this haircut establishment. The older boys with PSPs in hand sit in the waiting chairs with little halos. So adorable, gotta love ‘em. Psycho toddler and I are seated in the chair and wrapped up for haircutpocalypse.
Well, immediately following the start of the hair clippers the so called angel boys start bouncing around. Then they knock over some magazines on the waiting table. Then they get into a fight. Someone is crying, who depending on the 30-second interval, pretty much the entire time. During this joyous moment I am nicely (because I cannot yell at them in my condition/can’t do so in public, at least not the way I want to at the moment) trying to coax them to settle down, knock it off, PLEASE be good. Well, this ends with them almost breaking a window with a huge rock that the hair stylist was propping the door open with. It was hot that day and their AC was subpar at the supercutsjoint. These two kids tag teamed the boulder rock and moved it just a bit and dropped it with an embarrassing crash and bang to the glass door window.
Haircut event ends with toddler looking spiffy, me cleaning up their magazine mess, and the lady with an overly big tip for having to deal with the lot of us. So we get back in the car and we still have time on our hands before bro-in-law in done. And they give me the puppy dog eyes and apologize. And being the pushover that I am I head over to Micky D’s for their ice cream cones. I know you think I am a total lame now, but don’t judge. I was a really young parent. I was doing what I could, aka I was (OK, still am) a pansy.
We pull up to the drive up menu and I order two vanilla ice cream cones and an order of French Fries for my baby, who (even still) doesn’t like ice cream. And the drive up lady replies, “I’m sorry; our ice cream machine is down today.We don’t have any.”
So we get little dude’s fries and we pull out. Right as we do my nephew bursts into tears. I try to console him saying we have popsicles at home and we can go get them. Or hey, maybe we can even stop at the store and buy some ice cream. Just don’t be sad. And he replies to me with the most serious face I have seen on him in his entire little life “Jesus broke the ice cream machine because me and T were bad kids!” Then my oldest started crying too.
The other day at work this girl was talking about the first time she got her heart broken. Apparently a boy who worked at her local McDonalds stole her heart and ran off with the girl who made the fries. Apparently she was displeased with that. This made me think about the first time said heart breaking happened to me and how overly dramatic I was.
Let’s go way back in the day. I am 15-years-old and just started High School. The girls and I thought we were adult women just starting out in the world. This High School thing was only a formality since we were brilliant and ready to take on anything! We wore a shit-ton of lipstick and lip liner (gross!). My girl Monica has most of the blackmail photos which I pray never see the light of day again. This was a sad time in our fashion history.
Being the first week of school we were obviously scoping out the boys. We were outside on lunch one day chatting it up and my friend Brandy said to me “OK, so you have got to pick a boy. Everyone else has. Which one do you like?” Feeling put on the spot and not particularly interested in any of them as of yet, I scanned the scenery. Saw a decent enough fella. And I pointed at him saying “uh, that one… I guess.” Much to her delight this was her cousin (by marriage or something I don’t remember the details). So she quickly introduced us.
I don’t remember how it happened exactly, but we were pretty much an item from that point on. He and I spent every day after school together. He walked me to my classes each day with a PDA at the drop off. How lame and embarrassing is that? Eww! He was pretty much my first grown up kiss too and he later told me I sucked at kissing and gave me a complex. I still worry that my kisses are lame, although I really don’t care as much in my old age.
Everything was delight, sunshine, pop music, and happiness. I had a boyfriend and I liked him, he was cool! We went to the Homecoming and Sadie Hawkins dances together. Neither of us was old enough to drive yet. Teenage life was good. This was until one Thursday afternoon. My friend who introduced us decides to have a little talk with me on our walk home from school.
Brandy: So when do you plan to ‘you know’ with C?
Me: 'You know' what?
Brandy: You know, DO IT. With him.
Me (taken aback): Ohhhh. Uh, never. I don’t ever plan to do that with him. We’re kids dude. Maybe if we stay together and grow up and stuff. Maybe…then. Maybe.
Brandy: OK cool. Yeah, I totally respect that.
And the very next day I was gently dumped. Apparently Brandy was on a mission to gather some info for my bf C. I had been ambushed. Blindsided. Things just weren’t “working out” anymore he said. We could “still be friends” he said. B freakin S. Whateves.
Boom. My happy little fairy tale life (aka like 6-weeks of time we dated) crushed by the dark cloud of evil boy meanness. I spent that night at my bestie Monica’s house. I cried until I was dehydrated. I cried to her, to our other best friend Dawn, and also to Monica’s older brother Phil (who may have quite possibly been drunk that whole time. We suspected it). I cried Nancy Kerrigan-style “Why?!? Whyyyyy?!!!? Why?!?” for hours. That night we slept on the trampoline even though it was late fall and freezing. I think we woke to frost on our blankets, seriously! My best friends were amazing. They didn’t even mock me and I totally deserved some mocking that day. Then we walked to Media Play and bought some CDs and ate candy. And life went on.
A few weeks later first ex-boyfriend was dating J, a girl with pretty blond curls that wore a lot of bright red lipstick and was known for being “friendly”. They lasted 2-weeks together. And she did, ‘you know’ with him from what I heard and they still didn’t even last as long as he and I did. Bullet dodged - one point for me!
If I could go back and give teenage me a word of advice it would be: Don’t ever take it personal and just let the boys go chase themselves. So anyone else wanna share their tale of their first heartbreak? Eh? Eh?
I'm including this song because we all danced a lot after school at Monica's house. That ex brought this song around. He came from California where everyone liked to dance a lot. Just because it was hip I suppose.
Quirks, superstitions, habits, OCD-like behaviors - we all have them. At least, I’d assume most people do have some variation. We’re human. Things get to us. Well, unless you’re a sociopath and if that is the case then you’ve got bigger fish to fry.
So today for the entertainment of my mass following I am going to share a few of the weird ass things I think/do and things that creep me out. And well, I randomly feel like writing a list. ‘Cause, ya know, you totally need more reasons to think that I am a bit of a nutcase, right?
1) Things that suddenly “change status” – I get mildly anxious with things that change, even though completely expected and planned that way, quickly. I don’t like lighting matches, starting lawnmowers, or opening those tubes of rolls. I just don’t like it, it gets under my skin. Doesn’t this sound like the kind of phobia a dog would have? Now obviously, I have to deal with stuff like this normally to not be a total freak show. Just remember me when you’re opening your next can of cinnamon rolls and it “pops”. And relish in the humor that I’d have to take a deep breath before doing that same thing.
2) I brush my teeth, a lot. I carry my supplies with me and I even brush at work. I’m a frickin’ brush-o’-holic. I can’t relax with dirty teeth. It drives me nuts. I have brushed in my car with a water bottle. Classy! Kind of grossy gross, eh? AND, yet even with all of that brushing (and flossing mind you) I still had to go to the dentist this year for a root-MFing-canal. So lame and totally unfair.
3) Needles, oh my gosh horror, cry, just-shoot-me-instead, needles. I have an irrational fear of needles, shots, and things of the like. I have no idea how on earth I had two babies with the frequent blood work that baby-having and going to a modern day doctor requires. How I got this quarter-sleeve sized tattoo of a phoenix on my arm? Who knows?! Maybe I was roofied (Marta?!). As soon as the subject of needles even comes up I start to get nervousy. It is REE-diculous. My work gives out free flu shots every year. This past winter I spent the first half of my workday plotting out how not to be available to receive my flu shot even though I really wanted one since my fam was getting theirs. I didn’t want to die of the swiney flu while everyone else lived just because I wussed out on my flu shot. Well, mercifully one of my peers (who happens to be just a year shy of my dad’s age) went to get his shot at a certain time and so I tagged along. In the end I felt like I could go through with it because I was “with a grown-up” and that I’d be OK. Yeah, I just typed up and admitted that story. Yep.
4) When I am driving in the car I need the volume to stay on an odd number. I just do. Even numbers make me nervous. It feels wrong and like if I drive and listen to music on an even number it must mean certain death. Death, bitches. Bad luck. If someone adjusts the volume. I move it up or down a notch to keep it on an odd number. People probably think I am a jerko in the car when I do that right after they turn it up or down. I can’t help it.
I also have issues with Spiders, Heights, and Germs – oh my! MRSA, scary crap right there, you don’t want to get me started. I also cannot relax and enjoy a day off until I get our house clean. But, hey, you get the big picture that I am slightly neurotic to say the least. Apparently, according to my significant other, I am no more OCD than the next person, but who knows? Anyways, the moral of this story is hey, we all have weird stuff that affects our world. Basically we are all a bunch of weirdos yo. Isn’t it interesting?.
Fiction is the truth inside the lie. - Stephen King
Stephen King, my hero.
This is the one person I have wanted so much to meet for my entire life. I am the child who carried Stephen King novels proudly through my elementary school as my strict religious teachers (hey, this is Utah) gasped in horror at the content in which I was allowed to read. “Oh yes this is my book, and my parents bought it for me. Suckas!”
I grew up wanting to become a writer. I still want to be a writer when I “grow up”. My goal was always solidly to become an English teacher as a route to eventually working my way into a life as a novelist. I was going to write some scary ass shit. And, dammit, I am determined eventually I will do so.
I read my first Stephen King book in the 3rd grade. I started it up at a read-a-thon at school. I had my Care Bears sleeping bag, my purple pillow, and my first copy of ‘Pet Sematary’ which at that time was just about to come out as a movie I believe. And since then well, I’ve read so many of his books I cannot count. Now, I can’t say I have read them all, but I would say I’ve read far more than the average reader/fan. O to the C to the D a little maybe. Ha!
Stephen King’s influence is so much of what built my desire to become a writer. This is still so much of who I am today. He inspired the piece of me that is constantly thinking about the written word. Also the part of me that writes quick one liners and saves novel ideas at work because there is just no time to do it now, so I have to save that seed for later. One of his works that completely fueled this in me is his 1999 autobiography/guide to writing titled “On Writing”. I’ve read this book at least 15-times. I think I need to go home and pick up my waterlogged copy and read it again this week. Because that book brings out the part of me that belongs only to me, the part without the mommy and manager responsibilities. The piece of me that didn’t know that you could make a lot more money managing call centers than teaching English in schools. The part of me that wasn’t tainted by reality… and still isn’t.
If you’re ever interested here is a list of a few of my favorites:
Pet Sematary Carrie Cujo The Shining Different Seasons – Rita Hayworth & Shawshank Redemption (yeah, he wrote that badboy) Christine Firestarter Misery The Green Mile Desperation Dolores Claiborne Hearts in Atlantis The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon On Writing Dreamcatcher Cell
Paranormal activity. Entertainment (aka BS) or unsolved mysteries yo? Now, if you start asking around everyone has a few random inexplicable ghostie stories, or stories of the stories of other peeps. Hence the popularity of today’s ghost hunters and celeb ghost encounter TV shows.
Well, since I pretty much always have something better I should be doing, I am not going to do that important stuff, instead I am going to share my own paranormal experiences with you. I mean, because like I said, we all love us a good ghost story.
First creeptastic, and most emotionally damaging, story: I was 10-years-old. My cousin was living with us at the moment due to being a total brat to her own mother. She is completely paying for this in kid-karma today, but that is neither here nor there. This cousin was also our babysitter at the time. A dominating and controlling tell us what to do or lock-you-in-a-room-all-day kind of sitter she was. Now, today, I love my cousin so much and she has 3 daughters (now teens) of her own, but back in the day she was needless to say (emotionally) scary. Well, one day she decided it would be cool to bring home an Ouija Board. Then daily force me (via threat of violence/time in the hole) to play said Ouija Board with her. Which thoroughly freakedmethefuckout , but what could I do? Anyway, nothing particularly eventful came out of our sessions of speaking with the dead. She kept trying to reach our grandmother who had very recently passed away in some unfortunate circumstances. I can’t really remember who else she tried to talk to, but whateves. So I bet you’re waiting for the “scary” part, right? Well, each night that week-of-the-Ouija I apparently (from what my mother would tell me) was having serious night terrors. We’re talking inconsolable not-able-to-wake-me-up fits! The kind of stuff that was scaring the crap out of my whole family. And then, the next morning, zero memory of these events. Am-frickin-nesia. "Sorry, to hear about that suckers. I feel like I slept great." Some serious Captain Howdy kind of shit, right there yo. Well, after like the 4th day of my mom complaining about my terrorizing the family in my sleep I decided that I was sick and tired of this Ouija Board afternoon date with my cousin and told her to "back off beotch". And although I ended up spending the rest of that day locked in my bedroom drawing a mural of Synergy from 'Jem and The Holograms' on the back of my dresser, I no longer was victim of the devil board. And from that night on, no more midnight freakfest. Completely gone, no more problems ever again for the rest of my life. Subconscious response to my personal fear or some scary ass devil shit? You decide.
Scary Story Numero Dos: For about a year Joey and I lived in this 4-plex when my oldest was almost age 2. Our neighbors were all fellow teens or early 20-somethings and it was pretty chill. No one telling us what to do. Only one other young kid, maybe 5, lived in our building. It was a cool place, kind of in a not-so-nice area, but we had a private driveway and parking so no big concerns. Well, once I thought I saw a guy walking with a gun in his hand, but I was driving kind of fast (imagine that) so it could have been a cell phone. I don’t know. Anyway, sorry about the tangent, back to the story. So one night I am woken up 3 TIMES by the sound of a baby just bawling its eyes out. Now, I was one of those mothers that let their kid sleep in the bed with them (don’t judge me, life was easier that way, OK?) so I could see it wasn’t my Sookie Pookie throwing a bitch fit in the middle of the night. When I went to the bathroom it stopped. “Lame ass noisy baby” I thought to myself. The next morning I was taking my dog Tito out for his morning whiz when the neighbor stopped to chat me up. She started talking about one of our neighbors being a little noisy so I asked her if she heard the baby the night before. She didn’t. While we were talking the other neighbor girl happened to be walking to her car and eavesdropping said she didn’t think anyone had a baby visiting that weekend so she didn’t know whose brat would have woken me up all night. Note - I had asked Joey and he didn’t ever hear any baby himself. Oh well, whatever, annoying baby issue didn’t matter much anyway. So I went back in the house and started my Saturday routine. When I went to vacuum my kid asked me to go get his toy vacuum so he could “help”. I told him it was right by the door in his room to go and get it himself since mommy was busy. He stopped and said “I don’t want to Mommy. I’m scared of the baby in my room”. CH-CH-CH-CH-CH-CH! (<-- sound from the Jason Movies. FYI.) So, killer baby ghost in Sookie’s room at that place? Or some random baby crying we both heard and my kid being dramatic? IDK. Nobody will ever know (or care, but still).
Third, and lastly, my final brush with the spooksters: From the ages of 17-20 I worked as a CNA at an Assisted Living facility. Now, I know as glamorous as it sounds I did actually enjoy doing it. I mean, do you know how hot you can look in scrubs? Oh yeah! Anyway, I worked the 6pm-6am schedule to avoid needing a babysitter during the day since ya know, I’d already given up my youth for the exciting world o’parenting. Go me! Well, one summer Evelyn H. (one of my favorite patients) had a stroke in the middle of the night and it was on my watch. I was the first one to respond to her room when she called for help. When I knelt down beside her bed to figure out what was wrong I swore out of the corner of my eye I saw her husband Arnie (his name was really Arnold, but this is what she called him in her thick New York accent) in the bathroom! It was so striking I gasped out loud like when someone scares you. BUT, there was no one in the bathroom. It was empty. Arnie had passed away 6-months earlier. Uh, hello! However, I had been the one to come in the room every night to walk him to the bathroom, to prevent falls, and had done so hundreds of times before he had passed away. It could have easily been my photographic memory. So after the ambulance had come to take Evelyn away to the hospital I was talking with another CNA. I just couldn’t shake that scared feeling. I told her that I was pretty sure that Evelyn was going to die because I was pretty sure for a split second I saw Arnie in the bathroom. She laughed at me and told me to chill out. Evelyn died the next day. Arnie H. coming to pick up his wife to go “home”? Or a sleep deprived girl having a momentary flash back in her brain? *Shrugs shoulders.*
Now, I have to tell you I still don’t know if I have any belief in ghosts. I have a hard time with belief in things that are unproven to the point where I have spent a lot of my adulthood struggling with where I stand on religion and things of the like even. It’s hard for my brain to fully accept things I cannot see here in black and white. But I guess like everyone else, I do have my little “ghost stories” here to share. How about you?
Oh and well, since all of my blog titles are song lyrics or song titles I just had to throw one in. So here is the song that has been stuck in my head since I started writing this bad boy. Thanks Gerard.
(FYI - I’ve decided that I need to start documenting my memories just in case I get Alzheimer’s disease/or I just plain start forgetting stuff as time goes on.)
This is 21-year-old me trying to make bangs work even back then. Didn't work then, still doesn't work now. *Shakes head*
When I turned 21 we took trip to Vegas! Woooohooo! Party! Best Trip Ever!! Right?!?! Uh, yeah, nope. If there ever was a cursed, ill-fated, lametastic trip to Las Vegas award then this one would have been a shoo in for First Prize!
Let me set the scene. Let’s go way back in the day to the early 2000s. My 21st birthday was finally upon me I was going to head straight down to Vegas and live it up! And by live it up, I really meant do some gambling with a drink or two here or there, maybe dance at a Vegas hotspot or two, but mostly GO SHOPPING!!!
Musically, it was the time of Rob Thomas & Santana with Smooth, and the days of Blink 182 with All the Small Things, Destiny’s Child with Say My Name, and of course Eminem with The Real Slim Shady. Oh and who could forget The Thong Song courtesy of Sisqo “ She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck…”.This was the type of stuff getting airplay at the time. Although, pretty much the whole drive there we listened to a lot of Cake.
It was a group of just girls, no one over 22 with one 18-year-old ball & chain. Just us and the open road from our home in innocent Salt Lake City all the way to Sin City Nevada. And my friends had all offered to drive so I didn’t even have to take my car. Score!
I have full on travel window video to this song through the canyon in Arizona. Oh yeah! Oh and if you decide to read this whole post you can totally play this song the whole time as it was the theme song of the trip.
Our adventure began at the now shut down and imploded Stardust Casino and Hotel. It was roasty-toasty-sunshiney and hot in Vegas and we were happily checked in (squeely and lamely filled with excitement at the weekend in store for us) and headed to our room.
And it was all good until we got there. Where mind you, it turned out to be one king size bed and not the two we had requested online and well, there were no other rooms available. And, no, they didn’t have any rollaway beds – sorry bitches. Now immediately there are several catty /bitchy/whiney disagreements over who is sleeping in the bed. This resulted in me, being a lover and not a fighter, sleeping in two chairs pushed together on my birthday weekend. Where in the hell was my backbone? I don’t think I grew one until at least age 27. Oh, did I mention our AC was also not working? This enhanced the UFC-like environment in our room. After the maintenance man came to work on it for the 4th time we just gave up and moved to the acceptance phase that our room would be a hellish inferno.
Well, what does one do when they are chillaxing in a hellish inferno? They go and buy alcohol of course! So I pranced down to the hotel gift shop/store with my best friend D. After way too much time perusing our options we settled on a big ol’ case of Pina Colota Wine Coolers. Oh yes, we were very classy and well, had no idea what we were doing when it came to drinking. So we thought this to be an excellent beverage of choice. We plopped them up on the counter and I pulled up my wallet to pay, very excited to present my ID for the first time as an adult. The old lady at the counter, who was smoking a cigarette, talking on her cell phone, and literally had curlers in her hair, just rang up our stuff, took our money and shooed us out the door without carding either one of us! And, back then I swear to you, we probably looked to be about 16-years–old back then. All we could think of on the walk back to our room was that we must be old hags now. Sayonara youth!
Since we had the 18-year-old girl with us we decided not to go to any clubs/bars since she could not get in. And since we were youngins well, we didn’t really know what we were missing. Nobody really cared. So we went out with the camcorder and decided to make a bit of a documentary with each and every sight to see in Vegas on the strip. You know, the Treasure Island Show, The Volcano exploding on the strip, every bit of the New York New York casino, the grass/bush bikes at the Harley Davidson joint, all of it. And not much of the more important stuff, uh, us. Duh. I mean we were in it here and there, but it was mostly full of the sights and lights. Lame now that all of us have been to Vegas many times, but now we are no longer 21-year-old spring chickens.
After about 7-hours of walking and all of the wine coolers long gone we decided to go back to the hotel. No one was drunk, no one was even close to drunk. Hello, where was the big 21st birthday party? Someone could have at least thrown up for heaven’s sake! We ordered a room service pizza, and it sucked. It was like 60% white non-cooked onion. AND no one (who all offered to drive so I wouldn’t have to) would TAKE ME SHOPPING!!! No matter how much I begged and pleaded this whole weekend.
The next day was filled with a trip to a restaurant in which my camera was lost (we went to walk out to the car and I realized I didn’t have it, we walked back in and it was not at our table. Waitress and wait staff saw nothing, yeahrightmotherfuckers) and where I learned that Chocolate Alcoholic drinks are gross and never to try them. I’d post the photos now, but oh yeah, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas when a restaurant steals your camera.
We spent the afternoon at the pool where one of the girls often commented that I looked great in my swimsuit “for someone who had a kid and could never be really skinny again”. Thanks for the ego boost homie!! Note - I weighed 124 lbs so I was basically a whale, right? And again still, no one TOOK ME SHOPPING!!!
Long story not really short, one of my friends spent the most of the weekend calling our customer line at work to try and get the Mormon guy she liked on the phone, I was on my cell with Joey and Troy crying pretty much the whole time because it sucked AND I lost my camera and I’d rather be at home for my birthday where people were nice to me/would take me shopping, my best friend and her coworker pal were arguing most of the time, this other girl took off to party with her “boyfriend’s cousin’s uncle” since we were so lame, and so it goes without speaking that it pretty much was the most awesome trip of all time.
And for the grand finale, my best friend and said coworker got in a huge fight in St. George where on the way home (Obviously, I went running like an escaped convict for the outlet stores when we stopped for gas because NO ONE HAD TAKEN ME SHOPPING!). I was pretty sure that D was going to stomp this chicky into the ground. This resulted in me grabbing our luggage (since it was the coworkers car) and wondering to myself where we could find out the prices on a flight home to good ol’ SLC & “how dangerous is hitchhiking, really?”, but eventually came to resolution with us driving home in complete silence and no glorious beat down story to tell. And my tears streamed quietly behind my sunglasses.
Moral of the story – only travel with those you know well and have a similar vision with for the trip. Mass quantities of friends of friends really don’t mix well in one place. Watch your camera closely. Put your foot down so you get what you want especially on your birthday. Oh and chocolate and alcohol go together about as good as my chichuahua and his ginger-cat-nemesis.
Oh and of course, this last thing: Ooh dat dress so scandalous...
*** Note - I am still very good friends with everyone who went on this defunct trip with the exception of the coworker of D. I don't think anyone really stayed friends with her, she was a bit of an odd duck. What can I say?
(for full effect feel free to play this song while reading this hear blog yo.)
Isn't it sad when people you know turn into people you knew?
As I have often said before music is definitely a gateway for me into the past. It just takes a few seconds of a song and someone whom I have not seen or spoken to in, well, years is right at the front of my mind. Silly girl, right?
I know there are a lot of other memory triggers such as foods, smells, places, etc. Some are good and some are bad. Both the pink 'Skin-So-Soft' Avon lotion AND Britney Spears 'Slave For U' take me right back to the land of morning sickness as both were things I enjoyed (read - made me puke like a spring breaker in Cancun) when preggers with my kiddo. This one hairspray and shampoo totally take me back to my Millhollow Camp trip in the 5th grade. My family's homemade salsa always reminds me of this winter vacation we took to Jackson Hole WY every single time I take a bite. See?! More than music gets to me after all!
Tonight I am thinking a bit about the people from my past that have skipped on out of here. The long lost pals I search for on the Facebook every so often. Some I lost as I entered adulthood. Some that were here a while longer. What scares me is I probably have walked right past some of these peeps over the years, and well as much as we used to share our lives, not even noticed them.
Here's to all the long losties. To the friends who live out on the east coast and never text or call me, to the pal I haven't seen (and have been searching for) since my wedding in Vegas, to the sociopath-musician, to my first best guy friend from high school who said you were just using me for my car, to Toni the Brazilian lady who used to work graveyards with me (I miss you and your complaining). As much as I'd like to find some of you and also could stand to forget a few of you too, there will probably always be something left here to remind me. Thanks a lot, brain.
Two things - A) How did we not see this movie before? B) I didn’t realize, until now obviously, that Courtney Love (she did not play Nancy - fyi) was old enough to be in movies made in 1986. I mean, it all makes sense in my head now, but it didn’t seem possible when I saw her in the first few scenes. But yep, twas Ms. Love after all acting as Nancy’s bestie.
Of course I dreamed of Sid Vicious and his beloved Nancy all night long after watching said movie. The dream also included an old Sid (whom I never actually saw in the dream) that was not dead and called my dad all the time wanting to be friends, but that is neither here nor there. However, this has obviously sparked my curious side and I’ve been reading up on this duo. Also, I am working on some Sid & Nancy Halloween costume ideas. I was hoping to be Nancy, but I can be flexible.
For those of you who are not familiar with Sid Vicious he was the bass player for the Sex Pistols in the 70s. If you’re not privy to the Pistols they were an influential punk band from the UK that is often credited with contributing to the birth of punk rock music. Apparently, he wasn't an uber talented bass player, but did well enough to get by. He was highly emotional and basically a super dramatic person. So long story short, just about everyone who works in a call center has a bit of Sid Vicious in their personality I'd reckon.
I have to mention that punk was so insanely cool back then. Such good music. Such an experience to be at those shows I'd imagine. Also, I was just loving the fashion completely. This movie was oozing with awesome clothes and made me want to dig out my fishnets (which I must admit I have in yellow, pink, and nude in addition to the staple black). They are surprisingly fun to mix in with business casual wear and you can totally pull it off for work if done right. Sorry about the tangent, but hey, I am me.
As for Nancy, she was Sid's woman. She was an American girl. She was very young. She was nuts. They had a passionate, yet totally insane, relationship and were definitely the perfect couple. They both were compeletly strung out on drugs. And they wasted what could have been a pretty badass life together being soul mates and all. Before Sid, Nancy dated (or pursued/did) a handful of famous rockers, toured with Aerosmith, etc. OK, so she pretty much was a groupie to begin with.
Obviously, this ends tragically with Nancy stabbed to death by Sid when she was 20-years old. Five months later Sid overdosed on heroin at age 21. And here I am more than 30-years later reading up on people who died before I was even born. If you're not busy check out the movie on netflix yo.
In the words of Alkaline Trio - Live Young, Die Fast.
There are so many times in any given day that I am suddenly stunned by something little. And as messed up as this planet is I am mesmerized by the accomplishments of mankind. Things like the the internet, building construction, Cheetos - you name it, as I get thinking of "the big picture" it just blows my mind.
This of course caused my mind to randomly wander about how random my wandering mind really is. So for the last 24-hours I wrote down everything that I googled. I mean, because I have so much (insert sarcasm here) time on my hands, I don't know what to do with it all.
My first search of the day was about asparagus and specifically why it makes pee so wonderfully scented. This thought was sparked by the Lean Cuisine meal I was putting in my little work fridge. Now, I'm not completely clueless I know it has to do with something about the chemical breakdown during digestion, but that is just weird because it happens so fast. It seems to me that our pal asparagus must be the fastest digested vegetable on the planet yo. Anyways, long story short - asparagus contains a sulfur-containing compound identified by scientists as methyl mercaptan. That's about it. OK, so this may not have been my most useful or entertaining search o' the day, but it is what it is.
So I read on Twittah that they're looking to make a movie about the 60s actress Sharon Tate and her murder, I think. Anyways, this resulted in me reading over an hour about her life and how she was killed by Charles Manson's Family. This was seriously some creepy/brutal/sad shit. And holy crap, some of these murderous cult members were so young it was really awful. Yet, fascinating. I've got a bit of a love of the murder mystery/forensic stuff, like really bad. I'm pretty much familiar with most of the famous murder cases. This probably makes me a creepy weirdoface, and for that I am sorry, but not really.
If you're interested in this chica and this story check it out here, like I did.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sharon_Tate
The next thing that crossed my nutso mind was Anthony Kiedis. This was caused by the fact that his song was a'playin in my car. This got me wondering how old he is. I figured dude is about 43-44ish. Yeah, that sounds right.... Uh, nope. Homeboy is 48! He is only one year younger than my MOM. Ha! Whaddya know?! Oh well, Red Hot Chili Peppers is still one of my top shows that I've ever been lucky enough to go to. Insanely good, well written tunes. Life changing type of music really. Doesn't matter if the guy is parental age, he's one awesome mofo.
So I was on the phone with The Most Important Person In My Life and we got to talking about natural cures to illness. This being because they woke up with a headache and sore neck. Of course the first conclusion, as always, is... MENINGITIS! It was more likely Strep Throat or something of the like, but there is nothing like the horrific fear of a case of Spinal Meningitis. Anyways, I digress... So too much backstory short, I mentioned that I was pretty sure that some sort of antibiotic/antiseptic properties had been officially proven about garlic. Jerkface replied with, "Ehh... I don't know. Guess I will have to look that one up." Well, of course it is far more important to be right than to be happy always so I had to search that shit ASAP. Anyway, the verdict is as follows: In test tube studies, garlic has been found to have antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal activity. Thank you Wikipedia. Good enough, not exactly science, but whateves. Point made.
Adrian Grenier has a band, and well, I get curious when Actors move over to the Music world, so I got to wondering about this band that he has. Maybe they have a show or something coming up that me and the girls could go to. So as googlemaster I went ahead and looked 'em up. They're called The Honey Brothers. They sound kind of like some dudes hanging out, drinking some beers, and rockin out - fer fun. I might just bet that this is exactly how this went down. No shows coming up, not really any tunes I'd wanna download/pay actual money for. But, hey, if ya didn't know, now ya know. And there's not really much to know.
Next, I googled the scariest thing of all... ME. As weird and uncomfortable as it may be, I recommend googling your bad self. Right now, not too much comes up about me. Some 1/2 Marathons and 5k races I ran (with less than desirable finish times) are there. My LinkedIn profile, some other chicky with my same name's Facebook. A Flickr account that I now have privatized thanks to today's searchy action. And that's about it. Now, as soon as I add in my maiden name a lot more stuff (like things I commented on Facebook crap with) shows its embarrassing face. BUT, this means my employees/coworkers are less likely to find it which is somewhat relieving. Sorta. Anyways, rule of thumb, what goes on ze internet likes to stay on ze internet.
So now for the last of the personal things I searched (work related stuff such as Employee Retention is obviously far too riveting for this here blog bloggy blog) was for a Rolling Stone Article on the last days of Kurt Cobain. It was a total reminder of what an influence Nirvana was on me as a kid. And it added to my worry about my sister and brother-in-law who have decided to seriously screw their life up with drugs.
"Its better to burn out than fade away." - Kurt Cobain
If you're interested this was an entertaining read. http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/kurt-cobains-downward-spiral-rolling-stones-1994-feature-20110405
Anyway, at the end of the day there are just too many things that fascinate me such as Identical Twins, Genetic Traits, the history of Language, and the origin of Churros. It sure is nice to live in an age where all of this info is just waiting at our finger tips.
This song, mildly inspired by my searching, really sums that fascination for me. (Please forgive the slightly crappy audio. It was either this one, or the one with the Ad.)
