Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The day a venti skinny peppermint mocha tried to kill me.

A ton of tinny problems woke me up at 5 am this morning. Then they each took a turn, bugging me for answers. I had none. So I just kept rolling in bed till it was time to get up. They could keep me awake, but they would not force me out of bed before it was necessary.
Got dressed and ready really fast. Got the kids ready, gave them breakfast, and loaded the car. Since I didn’t have breakfast, I decided to stop at Starbucks for some coffee. And what did I order? Right, a venti skinny peppermint mocha. When the lady handed me the cup, I thought about asking for a stopper. But I didn’t want to be late to drop kids off at school, so I thought “what if it spills a little, big deal!”
Don’t ever tempt faith by saying things like that. Ever!
Two blocks away I had to turn right, and as I turned, the cup decided to keep going straight, instead of turning with the car. The funny thing is that I saw the damn cup tilting, I saw the lid flying on top of my leg, and I saw the brown warm liquid flooding the driver’s seat. And as I saw it, I also felt it. FUCK, it was HOT! Hot, hot, hot! And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it! I kept my head cool and was able to keep driving without hitting anybody. I didn’t even realize I was whispering “fuck” repeatedly, till the toddler in the backseat caught my attention by saying “What happened? Are you okay?” He’s the sweetest little thing ever. And only because of him, I kept driving till I reached where we had to go. I had to unload the car with mocha-soaked pants and take him and his sister to their classroom. It was humiliating. And I thanked whatever god there was that I had decided to wear black pants, or everyone would be able to see the damage.
They walked with the speed of a snail going to meet its faithful death. Today, of all days, some teacher from another room noticed they were twins and had to make a comment. And that made them stop. Today, of all days, I was not in the mood for that. I was already fuming. I did not need to have to deal with two little ones trying to climb on me because the stranger was talking to them. So I just bent down, holding the over-sized load of things we always have to carry with us, and begged them to just keep walking. They did. We reached the classroom and they started crying. They always cry when we get there. But they seem to have fun. I don’t know. But it always breaks my heart to leave them crying.
So then I went back to Starbucks, still fuming.
When the lady saw me walk in, she came, all helpful, trying to take the cup and soaked papers from my hands. I asked for the manager and told her what happened. They were extremely nice and help me, bless their hearts, but I was still pretty upset about the whole thing. I didn’t scream at them or anything, just told them what happened. They gave me another drink and a number to call. They registered my case and will solve the car problem, because now the car smells like peppermint mocha. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not my favorite either. I guess I should just be glad nothing more serious happened. No burns, no car accidents, no kids got hurt. I think that makes for a successful morning.
So today was the day a venti skinny peppermint mocha tried to kill me, but was only successful at scaring the crap out of me and getting my pants and my underwear soaking wet. I guess I won.
Take that, peppermint mocha!

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

She's a badass mother... Shut yo' mouth

If you hadn't noticed, we're pretty fond of the Bloggess around here...

On my way to becoming Furiously Happy, I went out and bought something completely frivolous that I did not need, but that made me so incredibly happy. (Seriously, watch the video in that post. It's incredible and makes me laugh every. fucking. time.)


They're what I would typify as Bad Ass Mother Fucker (or, BAMF) shoes. Should I go ahead and throw in now that I have arthritis and that these shoes may only ever see the light of day inside my own house?

They are my red dress in a cemetery, my creepy ass stuffed monkey..

And although they're slightly painful and completely irrational, they make me happy. And isn't that all that really matters?

Caution: I can kill you with my shoe.

This is for me to learn to never say 'things couldn't get worse' ever again.

You probably shouldn't even read this. I just need to vent.
Holy shit! I thought I was having an off day yesterday and that today things would be better? Yeah, right. Don’t mess with those things, because they will prove you wrong. And just to prove me wrong, today I woke up to have an even worse day. Great.
Morning is not even over yet and I already feel like I should just go back to bed. I should I could do just that. I wish I didn’t have to work. I wish I didn’t have to deal with other people today. Today is the day I feel like scratching somebody’s face off. Don’t cross my path today, nothing good can come from that.
I just feel like I’m being crushed under this huge pile of things that are going wrong. I almost can’t breathe under it all. I just need to do something. And I can’t do something. I can’t even scream, or be alone right now. This whole day sucks!!
I need to get out of here. I need to do something before I go crazy and hurt someone.
I know, I know, I wouldn’t do that. But some days I just feel like I’m going to go crazy if I don’t at least say the things in my head.
This is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Update: Trying to improve my Alexander day and clear my head with some pumpkin spice latte.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

I'm sure it's been talked about, but to be honest, I haven't had time to read the newspaper in about three months, so I'm going to share.

I'm fucking terrified. You know why? Even all the money in the world can't save you.

My ailment might not be cancer, but thinking about Steve Jobs dying from cancer is like the biggest "Santa Doesn't Exist" ever.

Think about it. The go-to excuse for just about anything is "if we could only find more money we could eventually find a way to end this…"

I don't know about Steve’s family, but if my mother or father was sick with cancer, I'd move mountains, I'd do just about anything to figure out something, some treatment. And I figure they did just that.

Hopefully it's time that was the enemy, because looking at a future where even the most powerful, influential, innovative man can be stricken with something incurable is absolutely terrifying.

I'm affiliated with many causes, and am a huge supporter of research and finding an answer to everything we can possibly hope to cure. But isn't it scary as hell to think it might all be for naught??

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Words have the taste we give them.

Okay, so I saw this person complaining about somebody else’s decision, sarcastically telling him it was a nice move on his part. And I thought, “Honey, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” Then I thought that it was really silly, because flies like poop, not honey. Bees like honey, so it should be “you can catch more bees with honey than with vinegar.” But that just sounded odd, because who wants to catch bees anyway? Unless you’re a honey-maker, then you'd want the bees to make honey, otherwise why would you want bees? Then I decided that since I had no idea why we even say that, I'd google the origin of this saying. Because, you know, nowadays, if you don’t know something, google it.
Then I found out that flies do like honey, they like sweet things. Never thought I’d have something in common with a fly, go figure. And apparently, even in the 1600s people were already using this saying, so it's pretty old. So in order to avoid the annoying task of chasing flies, people would lure them with honey-traps. The idea would be that the fly would land on the honey and get stuck. It’s actually quite ingenious, if you think about it.
You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
So I guess the initial idea does make sense, and she should have used honey - or politeness, in that case - and saved her sour words for a more appropriate occasion. If there’s ever an occasion where sour words are better than sweet ones. Unless it's medicine. I think I remember something about a sour medicine. Or was it bitter? In any case, I'm pretty sure a spoon full of sugar would suffice in such case. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Welcome to the fun! We’re all mad here.

I’m tired of not being able to say what I want because people will judge me. I’m tired of holding things in because people will think I’m crazy. You know what? Fuck ‘em. Here I can say whatever the hell I want and no one can judge me. Here I can make inappropriate jokes and tell nonsense stories. Here I can be myself.
Join me, join us, and say whatever the hell you want. Scream ‘WOLVERINES!’ from the top of your lungs, wear a panda suit, scare your friends tweeting about the zombie apocalypse, buy a giant metal chicken, look for a cat named Bob Barker, get to know the mighty saga of James Garfield. Do something completely silly today. Life is too short. Break the rules, kiss slowly, forgive quickly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably. Do something that will make you furiously happy, and never regret it. And most importantly, be yourself.
And in case you didn’t notice, I’m warning you: we’re all mad here. Enjoy!
We're all mad here.
P.S.: If you don’t understand the references I’m using, you should totally go read The Bloggess. She makes me furiously happy.