I have an absolutely ginormous family. I mean, I personally am an only child, but my mom is one of seven lunatics and those seven lunatics have given birth to a pack of hooligans ranging in age from 40ish to 5. My aunts, uncles and first cousins alone bring the head count to about 30 and this is not counting my cousins’ children, their spouses or the countless other stragglers who are silly enough to try to brave a family gathering. In short, when we all get together it is deafeningly loud, immensely scary and slightly dysfunctional. Read on, Readers
I am 982% averse to change. For serious, I hate it; especially when it involves people moving away. Ideally, I would like to gather up everyone I love most in the world, put one of those invisible dog zapper fences up and we would just hold hands and I would force them all to tell me funny stories forever. Unfortunately, that’s completely impossible and probably creepy, but it brings me to the reason that I was dancing like a wild indian and downing an excessive number of Bud Lights on Saturday night night…Becky is moving to Texas. Read on, Readers
Holy crap, I just realized I have not blogged in two whole weeks. I have been busy, guys. I mean not that busy, so mostly I am just lazy, I guess and also I am kind of over the whole blog thing. Don’t worry, though, I am not about to tell you that I am quitting the blog, yet. Mostly, I just felt the need to let you all know that I am totes sorry ’bout the lack of blogging, but I made a list of some topics today and also I have some ridiculous stories to recount so this is me effectively promising to have some love for all of you on Monday.
Happy Friday! Chicken for EVERYONE!
Ordinarily, I try to avoid watching the news. Primarily, I do this because I formerly had big dreams of being a news anchor and as such endured a year as a newsroom intern. This was quite an experience in which I was regularly screamed at, learned more about the prevalence of unreported crime than I wanted to and looked at video footage of autopsied pit bulls. It was fun while it lasted, but when it came time to accept the job offer I just could not sign my sanity away like that. Now when I watch the news I get ‘Nam style flashbacks of those months I spent tethered to the anonymous tip line. Also, I am more acutely aware of the fact that what is being reported is essentially crap designed to get ratings and is not necessarily anything you need to know. Secondly, I hate watching the news because it is tragically sad. Case in point, I just watched a segment on adoption and may or may not have cried…no big deal. Why am I rambling about this? Well, today I am starting a new feature, News and Nonsense. Read on, Readers
So, I’ve got a couple of vices. By a couple, I pretty much mean a laundry list, but at 23 you don’t need to really evaluate the esteemed place of queso fries and Busch Lights in your life because, well, almost everyone else you know is eating and drinking their faces off as a form of recreation. These habits are not alarming, yet. However, of late, I have been forced to take a long hard look at a couple of my habits that have proven troublesome, namely candy and clothes. Read on, Readers
From all the whining I did last week and the general snarkiness of the blog, you’ve probably gathered that there are a lot of things that I find irritating. And by things I mean people. I don’t really know when I became such a surly brat, but somewhere around age 16 I started just telling all sorts of people that they were on my list. If they asked what my list was I would paraphrase Phoebe Bouffay and tell them it was a piece of paper with their name on it. Now I realize this is quite obnoxious, but at 16 being nice and polite was not exactly my strong suit. I mean you are talking to the girl who once loudly exclaimed in the airport security line, “See, Mom? No tools allowed. I guess you can’t board” Yes, I was that awful, but in that context the list shenanigans don’t seem so bad, now do they? Read on, Readers
So as you may recall from my previous post, that as a child I was desperate to be a marine biologist. This fact was so widely know in my town that random people frequently come up to my mother and ask her if I am actually working at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute and/or Sea World. She always laughs as she tells them no and because she loves me does not reveal how preposterous such an idea actually is. Read on, Readers