Six Confessions

Hey dudes, what's up? Nah, just kidding, I don't care. *

Me? Oh, not much. Just chillin' with my impacted wisdom teeth. We're good buddies these days. Lots of crazy headaches and whatever. Also, I may or may not have won not one, but TWO really effing sweet blog giveaways. But neither of them have made any official announcements, so I wouldn't want to give it away ahead of time and steal their thunder. Oh yeah, and I changed up the layout of this blog a little bit since the last time you were here. I made all the stuff in the sidebar the same size, because I know that kind of thing really bugs some of you, and I changed the widths of stuff so I could post larger images. Real exciting stuff.

*totally joking, btw

Anyway, on to today's post: Six Confessions.

After seeing bloggers like Leigh-Ann, Kelly Ann, Katie and Kyla Roma post their six confessions, I was inspired to do a post of my own! Here are six things you could have probably guessed about me but I'll tell you anyway. And then you should go check out all those other people's six things. LISTS ARE AWESOME.

___

1. I talk out loud to my pets. And I use weird voices and do weird things...basically anything that will get a positive reaction from them. Ryan asked me what I talk about with the cat one day, like about the weather or what? And I got all offended and told him "We don't talk about those things. We talk about cat stuff."




<-- So basically, this is me.

2. I (sort of) steal umbrellas. I kind of feel like they're a disposable commodity, which I know is crazy, but I've lost my share of umbrellas on the bus, in doctors offices, etc. and I'd like to think that somebody who needed it was using it. When I find an umbrella stranded on a bus, I'm not like "Hey I really should give this to the bus driver, and then subsequently this umbrella will be returned to its rightful owner."

I'm more like "Score, free umbrella." because honestly, it's very likely that this particular collapsible black umbrella is just going to end up in a giant lost and found box along with 80 other collapsible black umbrellas.

3. I hate getting tattooed and I'm a huge baby. BUT I'm (usually) pretty good at closing my eyes and trying not to whine too much, haha. And it's always worth the pain in the end so I keep doing it. But seriously, it hurts! It's awful! I'm getting my chest tattooed next month and am already panicking about it.

4.Pancakes make me physically ill. Like, I throw up. I gag if I think about them too much and they make me angry. And yes, I love waffles. It's only pancakes. I know it's all in my head but I just can't even... uuugh. I hate even thinking about them. I think it stems from a time in my life where we were so broke all we could afford was pancakes for dinner. I just used up my entire allotted amount of pancake tolerance for this lifetime already. Or at least that's my theory.

5. I have a compulsion to "rescue" worms when they're on the sidewalk. I can't walk by a worm on a sidewalk without picking it up and putting it somewhere more suitable, like the grass. And it's not like I know anything about worms other than that they have five to seven hearts (depending on who you ask) and they can regenerate body parts if you cut them up (which I would NEVER DO and you shouldn't do it either. EVER).

A little part of me always wonders if mister worm had spent all day psyching himself up to finally leave home, cross the big sidewalk and move on to bigger and better things, and then took hours and hours to wriggle his way to where I discovered him. Then I just pick him up and put him back where he started. Like, would he be angry at me? I don't know, it's weird. Anyway, I love earthworms.
 
6. I think I have been having small panic attacks recently. On the bus it's happened a couple times, where I feel like ... uh, it's hard to explain. Like my chest is too small and I have to run away. Yesterday in the bank waiting in line for the ATM I literally had to stare at my shoes and tell myself that 'Yes, I can breathe, stop freaking out.' And it seemed to last for like ten minutes, although now when I think about it, that sounds like hyperbole. I mean, how long could those people have been standing at the bank machine?

I've also had trouble in grocery stores a few times. Once in particular I was with Ryan and as we were walking in to the store I just stopped at the doors saying "NO NO NO I CAN'T GO IN THERE" and literally backed away, haha.
But heck, who hasn't had a panic attack in this day and age, right? Especially you bloggers! It's practically a rite of passage. At least I'm not on any drugs! (Yet?)

So those are six things about me. If you do your own six things, leave me a comment with a link to it. Like I said before, Lists Are Awesome. I'll totally come check it out. 

the fair

Techno music: bass bass bass bass bass bass
Flashing lights giving me a seizure, not literally but I did find myself swaying and going cross-eyed watching the sidewinder go round and round.

I stood there in the wind waiting for two of the three kids we brought to the fair. They were on some ride with some ridiculous name. They were sitting in a kind of metallic egg on the end of a gigantic arm of a machinated octopus. And spinning. Spinning at the end of the arm while going in circles around the base of the thing. I was standing, trying not to get pick-pocketed and thinking about maybe putting my hood up. Was that rain or just someone spitting off the ferris wheel?

The guy running the ride wasn't on any obvious drugs, not like the guys at the Himalaya ... hello cocaine! Nah, this guy looked cold and bored.

But then along came the fun guy, another carnival worker who proudly shouted 'I'm only nineteen!' as he made sure everybody's safety bar was locked into place.

He was obnoxious, flirting with the high school girls and shouting and high-fiveing the guys. The ride started up and I couldn't stop watching him. It was a pretty great act. Again, not like the guys at the Himalaya, who shouted "Everybody scream!" and "I can't hear you screaming!" and "Do you want to go backwards?" As if it were a recording on a loop.

This guy, mister nineteen, when people went by he went "RAAAAAAAA!" and scared them. He had every single person laughing as he (dangerously) chased after them with an inflatable hammer and tried to hit them. He pretended to high five the girls and then did the 'psyche' thing at the last second. It all fit in to the carnival atmosphere perfectly.

When the ride was over and the kids got off, they were practically climbing over each other to tell me about him.

"...and he was trying to give us a high five..."
"...and like, he like, said his name was mister awesome..."
"...that guy was cool huh?"
"...and he scared us..."

We were standing there waiting in the cold after the ride, because Ryan and his oldest boy had decided to go on the Zipper.

Dun dun duuunnn.

The Zipper was the kids' arch nemesis ride this year. Last year it was the Ferris Wheel. And the oldest guy finally decided he wasn't scared and he would totally go on it. But only if his dad came too.

We stood there, and I tried to keep the conversation about mister nineteen going so they would forget the wind and rain.

A group of cowboys walked past, fresh from the rodeo beer gardens by the smell of them.

"Hey guys, those are real cowboys!" I whispered in my best imitation of awe.

"WOW! COOL!"
"REAL COWBOYS! WOAH!"
"Did they ride horses to get here do you think?"

The boys watched the leather jackets and cowboy hats walk by with wide eyes and slack jaws. The cowboys didn't notice.

Ryan and the oldest boy showed up soon after and were surprisingly quiet about the whole Zipper thing. Luckily the other two had plenty to say about mister nineteen.

Ryan hung back and whispered to me that the kid had chickened out but didn't want anyone to know. They just watched the Zipper and went on another ride instead.

At the end of the night when the park was closing, we headed to the car. A drunken cowboy and his tight-jeans-not-skinny-jeans-but-wranglers stopped us.
"Hey"
"Hey guys!"

We stopped. I was suspicious.

The cowboy gave the kids a stuffed animal he won on the midway.

They still can't shut up about it.

I didn't go on any rides this year...thirty bucks for a pass? No thanks.
But you know what I did do? I took four hundred and something photos.
Which, to me, was just as fun.

ICP is not for me

Well, Facebook has done it again. It connected me with somebody I never ever wanted to see after moving away from my home town.

Again.

This guy...I'm just gonna say it: He sold drugs to my friends. And I'm not talking a little pot. He was kind of a mule, I suppose, as he was always coming straight from Edmonton to whatever party I had snuck out my bedroom window to attend that evening. (sorry mom)

He was the first person I've ever known who carried a gun, and he was the first person I knew who had forearm tattoos. He was also the first person I walked in on while he was shooting heroin in the other room. I was completely oblivious to what kind of people my friends were. Looking back I think 'what the hell were they doing hanging out with teenage girls?' but then I don't want to think about that. Gross.

Anyway this guy ... he was scary. Still is, as far as I'm concerned. He's extremely tall, and has a voice like a giant. I can't separate rumors from truth about him...he's the bad guy of legend in our home town, and so I am pretty sure he has done it all. All the bad stuff.

He requested to be my friend on Facebook a couple days ago.

Whatthefuck?

Are we 'friends'? Like...at all?

Like...

really?

REALLY?



no.



I honestly kept the request waiting for a couple days to let it sink in. First of all...he has a facebook account. I didn't realize fucking frankendraculas were allowed to use the computer.

Secondly, he remembers who I am even though I haven't seen him since I was about fifteen years old, which is weird.

Third...he's still alive? Not in jail? Shocking stuff.

So I thought 'meh, might as well check out his profile.'

There were pictures of KIDS (he has children?!?!?!?!), dogs, oil rigs, really cold looking winters, ...typical Alberta stuff.

"okay," I thought, "he seems like a normal human after all."

And then I got to his 'about me' section ... the best part was the 'favorite books'...there was only one, entitled something like: Violent J: behind the makeup

Do you know who Violent J is?
Ever heard of Insane Clown Posse?



HAHAHAHAHA

Listen to the lyrics in this song. This is not a joke song. It's serious. In fact, I'm gonna post the lyrics below so you can read along. I'll put the awesome parts in bold so you can really appreciate their ... depth and intelligence. My comments are in red.



We got a theory, see like, we got a theory about magic and miracles. That’s right…

If magic is all we ever known then it’s easy to miss what really goes on, but I have seen miracles in every way and it have seen miracles every day, (awesome rhyme, guys) Oceans spanding beyond my site, (this isn't ICP's fault but whoever transcribed this song was clearly a genius) and a million stars way above em at night, we don’t have to be high to look in the sky, and know that is a miracle open wide. (what does that even mean?)

Look at the mountains trees the seven seas, and everything chillin under water please, hot lava, snow, rain and fog, long neck giraffes, pet cats and dogs. I have seen 85 thousand people all in one room together as equal, pure magic is the birth of my kids I’ve seen shit that shock your eyelids, (hahahaha!!!)the sun and the moon even mars the milky way fuckin shooting stars, ufo’s, (really?) a river flows, plant a little seed and nature grows, Niagara falls and the pyramids, everything you believed in as kids, fuckin rainbows after it rains, there’s enough miracles here to blow your brain, I fed a fish to a pelican and Frisco bay and he tried to eat my cell phone he ran away, (um...what?) and music is magic pure and clean you feel it you can hear it and it can’t be seen.

Are you a believer in miracles? (Music it’s all magic, you can’t even hold it) Do you notice and recognize miracles? It’s just there in the air, are you a believer in miracles? (Pure motherfucking magic, this shit will blow your MF mind.)

Music is a lot like love, it’s all a feeling and it fills the room from the floor to the ceiling, I’ve seen miracles all around me, stop and look around its all astounding, water, fire air and dirt, fucking magnets, how do they work? (Hahahahaha!! I think this is my favorite line)I don’t want to talk to a scientist, ya’ll MF lying and getting me pissed,(yeah, scientists are lying...it's all just magic) solar eclipse and vicious weather, 15,000 Juggalos together (I hope I never have to see 15,000 Juggalos at once...ew) and I love my mom for giving me this time on this planet, take nothing for granted, I seen a caterpillar turn into a butterfly, miracles aint nothing to lye (?), shaggys little boys look just like shaggy and my little boy looks just like daddy, miracles each and everywhere you look and nobody has to stay where they put, this world is yours for you to explore, it’s nothing but miracles beyond your doors, the dark carnival is your invitation,(sorry 'dark carnival', I'm busy that day) to witness that of there our explanation,(?) take a look at this fine creation and enjoy it better with appreciation, (really?) crows, ghosts, the midnight coasts, the wonders of the world, mysteries, the most (the most? what?). Just open your mind and in no way to ignore the miracles of everyday, that’s real.
Are you a believer in miracles? (Magic every in this bitch, it’s all around you and you don’t even know it.) Do you notice and recognize miracles? It’s just there in the air, are you a believer in miracles? (Pure motherfucking magic, this shit will blow your MF mind.) (I don't think the transcriber really paid attention here at the end...it totally doesn't match up. Whatever.)

Saturday Night Live recently made a video parody of it...it's awesome.


What the fuck is a clock? hahahahaha


So thank you, terrifying guy from my past, for making me realize just how much I've changed and what I escaped when I left all that behind.

And if you find this blog please don't kill me.

:)

I also found this guy, who is totally taking the piss out of 'juggalos'. Nice one.

the day I knew I was a grown-up

I was ten or eleven years old and lived with my (divorced) single mom and my younger brother (who would have been seven-ish) and my sister (who would have been around five).

I knew the truth about the Easter bunny. And Santa Claus. And the Tooth Fairy.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I had known it for a few years by then because I was well-versed in the Easter routine: after the 'little kids' went to bed there was the super fun chore of hiding frilly baskets full of that rustly Easter-grass crap and candy, and making trails of candy to make them easy to find (thus eliminating any Easter morning frustration for the youngest child). And lastly, hiding any evidence (i.e. packaging) of the elaborate holiday ruse.

I woke up with the sunrise on this particular Easter morning. My brother and sister were still asleep.
My mom was also sleeping.

I tiptoed around from room to room, checking. I had to be sure because I wanted to sneak some early morning candy before breakfast(and before anybody was awake to tell me "no").

My mom was actually snoring. She had been out the night before and I didn't want to wake her up because she got home kind of late. Like, super late. Even after I had fallen asleep, which was like at ten at night. That's almost midnight!

I slowly sneaked down the stairs, being sure to walk on the edges of the steps to avoid any tell-tale creaks.

There were no candy trails to be found.

Hmm.

I began a fruitless search behind couches and under blankets. Nothing. My state of alarm rose as I searched behind the T.V. I even looked in the kitchen cupboards and inside the fridge.

Still nothing. I couldn't believe how good of a hider my mom was!

I looked in the microwave, in the toilet tank, and then just stood in the middle of the living room, scanning the landscape with my eyes, searching for any obvious signs of camouflaged candy.

It then dawned on me that the unthinkable had happened: Mom had forgotten Easter!

I scurried back up the stairs into her room.

"Mom," I whispered.

No response.

"Maaaahhhhm"

"Hm?"

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhm"

"Hm? Whaa?"

"Maaahm, the Easter bunny never came"

It took a few seconds for this fact to dawn on her. "Uuuugh"

I realized that "maaahm" had had a few cocktails the night before and I could see in the pallor of her face that she was not feeling so hot.

"I can do it...if you want"

"Oh, hun. Thanks. Stuff's in the cupboard above the fridge." And she went back to sleep.

It was up to me to be the unsung hero of our home. But I had to hurry because the kids were going to be up soon.

I valiantly climbed onto the kitchen counter and pulled out dollar store baskets and packages of that retarded Easter grass. (Seriously, what is that stuff?) There were bags of tiny chocolate eggs and three large profiles of white-chocolate Easter bunnies. Hollow, each with just one pink sugar eye glaring out of the gaudy packaging.

Ew, white chocolate.

I threw everything together, found some amazing hiding places, (Under the kitchen table? GENIUS!) and saved Easter.

I went back to bed, shifting the covers noisily enough to wake the other kids up, and lay under the covers listening.

"It's EASTERRRRRR! THE EASTER BUNNY CAME!"
"CANDYYYYY!"

At the time I was so proud of myself and felt like the ultimate child that every parent would be proud to call their own. Today, looking back, I feel scandalized. What a traumatic moment that should have been.

But it wasn't. And honestly I'm still kind of proud of my ten year old self. Good job, me!