Archive | January, 2013

Being Adult: They See Me Rollin’. They Hatin’.

15 Jan

Let me assure you, they are not “tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty”. The Po-po, that is. The police. I don’t drive around with illegal drugs is what I’m trying to say.

Now that we’ve gotten past that unnecessary clarification, I have a few stories to tell you.

The day after I got my drivers permit, my mom took me out to the local library to begin learning how to drive. This was possibly the worst idea my mom has ever had.

When we got there, the library was crowded—apparently my library has a rush hour. who knew?—and I was a ball of anxiety. Sure, I was only going ten miles in a parking lot, but those videos of deceased teens that drove off an icy road, drove home drunk, etc were the only thing could think of. It felt like my ultimate doom, my final game over, those ill-mannered fates that were determined to destroy me would all collide in this library parking lot.

Luckily, I didn’t die.

Unluckily, I did back into a light post… it just came out of nowhere.

lamppost

Don’t let that concrete brick at the bottom of the lamp post fool you. Lamp posts are like ninjas. Concrete can’t stop them.

After that, I didn’t drive for the next two years, leading me to only get my drivers license when I was 20.

Even now, when I drive there is this overwhelming sense of nervousness that escalates when I see other drivers being worse at driving than I am. It takes a really special person to do that—or maybe just an intoxicated person.

You never really know what road rage feels like until someone pulls out in front of you when you’re going 45 mph… and then keeps their blinker on for the next five miles… and is also blaring their music as if the whole world wanted to hear it—fun fact: your music sucks.

My natural response has always been a high level of sarcasm.

Really? You couldn’t just wait could you? After all, your life is so important that the rest of us are just obstacles to be overcome.

Nice blinker, bro. It’s so much fun to use your blinker. Really, when you’ve already determined to be a crap driver, go ahead and leave your blinker on. No one knows what the hell you’re doing anyway.

Sarcasm, however, only makes me more frustrated and impatient. It doesn’t help me get over the fact that people are rude and partially blind sometimes—and my driving becomes that much worse.

Lately, however, I had an idea, which has been working pretty well over the past couple of weeks.

Disclaimer: if you try this in front of other people, they will be instantly weirded out. If you’re like me, it’s nothing new. My friends have come to expect this, but when you’re driving with someone who doesn’t know you very well—or your parents—you may want to repress it. Just don’t do it.

Okay, then.

Let’s say, some lady is talking on her phone and talking to her friend sitting shotgun—multitasking as it is. BUT, she is also driving right in front of you. You know exactly what she is doing because she just pulled her Prius out of the Alcove Coffee parking lot two feet in front of you, and you had to bring your massive minivan to a grinding halt. Thus, your headlights are now illuminating her entire car.

You can see her coffee cup. You want coffee.

You can also see how fluffy her hair is. She kinda’ looks like a poodle, but, really, a poodle knows better than to jump out in front of a minivan.

Right now, you want to scream profanities to the high heavens so loud that she, her friend on the phone, her friend sitting shotgun, and their next five generations to come can all hear it.

But don’t.

Take a moment and calm down. Then remember, there’s something deeper going on here.

She’s not merely a crazy lady who has gotten so careless in her driving that she felt confident in endangering the lives of those around her. No.

She is a dinosaur. Literally. She is the spirit of an old dinosaur god of pre-history stuck in the body of a human. She’s talking to other members of the Alpha-Wolf-Dino-Squad on her phone and arranging to meet them in the park. She, her dinosaur brethren, and some part-time recently recruited werewolves are meeting up tonight to take down a dangerous clan of vampires determined to convert the entire population of your city to their vampire clan thing.

That person next to her is a young woman who recently discovered that she had the spirit of one of these dinosaur gods living inside her. Her presence has turned the tables in the favor of the Alpha-Wolf-Dino-Squad. Their victory is almost assured.

Sure, she is driving like she is five different types of intoxicated—but she is currently repressing her anger for fear that her body will transform into its natural dinosaur form.

Who wants to be driving behind a brontosaurs that has just torn through a Prius?

No one. Brontosauruses are slow and take up two lanes. Traffic would be terrible.

words

The view of a brontosaurus in front of you from behind your windshield. Fortunately, brontosauruses are vegetarians, so she won’t try to eat you.  Unfortunately, dinosaurs don’t have blinkers or break lights, so she’ll probably hit you.

Instead, you keep your distance. That way, if she does transform, her tail won’t side-swipe you.

 

Sure, that guy right next two you saw your blinker and, instead of slowing down or speeding up, is going the same speed as you. He may seem to be speeding up and slowing down exactly as you do and refusing to let you over. But there is something deeper going on

He has mistaken your car for the minivan that his daughter drove—the same daughter who whose minivan was hijacked by a group of rogue shape shifters in the middle of nowhere. It took his daughter five days to find civilization after that, and he is pissed about it.

words

A bear and a snake steal your car: it’s both a start to a bad pun and something that you’d never want to tell the police.

Just keep trying to switch lanes. Eventually, he’ll see the back of your car and realize that you do NOT have the “Rogue Shape Shifters FTW” bumper sticker, so you couldn’t possibly be them. Once reassured, he’ll let you over.

Maybe.

 

What? Did that group of teenagers almost hit you while trying to pull out of their parking spot?

Calm down and keep your distance.

They just discovered they have superpowers, that they might be “the chosen one”, and are trying to figure out their lives.

High school sucks to begin with. Try adding laser beam eyes or the ability to inflate your entire body.

Then, consider that they also realized that the government wants to hunt them down to run experiments on them until they are no longer minors, at which point they’ll be made into super-soldiers.

Meanwhile, the one that can fly into outer space has just discovered a fleet of alien ships hovering just outside of our atmosphere with their guns pointing directly at your city.

words

Question: would having laser beam eyes get you a handicap sticker?

They got a lot of crap to deal with. Unfortunately, learning to drive is one of them.

 

There is something about thinking about terrible drivers being ridiculously not-quite-human that is instantly calming—and driving becomes ten times more awesome.

Would you rather yell at your windshield, wishing to give those drivers a three-hour lecture on how to properly make a left-turn, only to realize that they don’t care and don’t hear you…

OR

Would you rather talk about how driving behind the former President of the Republic of Atlantis sucks because he is still trying to get used to the idea of having feet instead of a tail? Instead, you can have a lively discussion with anyone in your car about the situation that forced him into driving when he’s only had legs for the last 12 hours.

They wouldn’t have heard your swearing, so they certainly won’t hear you talk about their fictional romantic entanglements with a genie.

At first, making up these stories on the fly is a bit tricky. For the first week, the only thing I could think of was a plot involving a Turkish Prince who was determined to search for his bride-to-be that was kidnapped by the CIA. I don’t even think Turkey has princes…

If you need plot ideas, I would highly recommend reading through the Paranormal Romance summaries on Good Reads– The more ridiculous, the better. The more you come up with these plot entanglements, the easier it becomes.

For me, the frustration and anger that comes from road rage is much more distraction from driving than the effort it may take to create these stories.

Try it, my home slices. See if it works for you.

Peace out!

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How I Made Fire Smell Like Cookies

11 Jan

Hey guys! Guess what?? It’s story time!

When I was in elementary school, lightening hit our house and the resulting fire burned it down.

When I was in sixth, seventh, and eighth grade I had a series of vivid nightmares involving people… well, burning. I couldn’t use a stove without flinching during middle school.

I wanted to punch all those pyromaniacs in middle school in the face, but there were too many of them.

When I was in eighth grade one of my brothers and his friend decided to play the lite-all-the-things-on-fire game one lovely Saturday afternoon… It caught fire to his sheets. At the end of a long and very stressful day, our house was left in a heap of extra-crispy wood clumps.

If you’ve ever seen Stranger Then Fiction with Will Ferrell– best movie ever– think about that moment when Harold raises his arms in the air and yells hopelessly at the narrator… I had one of those moments that day.

In high school, our dog house, the backyard, a calender, and a small pile of sticks caught fire as well– still my brother and his friend. You would think after, you know, burning down the house, they’d burn up all their fire-related curiosity (Haha, you see what I did there? Yeah, Shakespeare ain’t got nothing on this witty lady).

But no. Apparently, that’s not how little brothers work.

What this led to was a strong sense of caution around fire, verging on pyro-phobia, that followed me well into college.

Today, however, I did something cool.

I lit a candle.

candle

He didn’t talk to me as I thought he would. Regardless, I’ve decided to name him Calcifer. I expect he’ll ask me to go save his master Howl any moment now.

If you look on the label, it has cookies on it. I figured it was worth the risk, if it could make my life smell like baked goods.

I’m not sure where we got this candle. I found it laying in a drawer in my parents house. It could be a magic candle, I guess, set there by the same lady that gave life to Pinocchio.

On the other hand, though, it could be an evil candle, set there by a dark wizard from the future determined to destroy me before I get to a point in my life where I do something vaguely important. Either way, my life has just before much more interesting.

The smell of the candle is somewhat disappointing, though. It smells like a creamy-sugary-delicious smell, not the burning-crispy-brick smell that I usually get from homemade cookies.

My next life goal is to set fire to the rain. Go big or go home, as they say.

Thoughts and Hippos

8 Jan

First, this is my hippo. His name is Fat-Fat. I don’t know why I named him that it just felt right.

fatfat

He really loves filters. It’s probably because he models for Instagram when he isn’t protecting my desk.

Second, I have thoughts sometimes that I have to get out of my head… and these are them. 😀

Revolving doors are fun. They let you go faster and faster, and, if you’re skilled, you can pull your feet up and balance between two sides of the glass and let it carry you in circles. It’s the best feeling. But don’t do it while going into a job interview. They will remember your face, and they will ask you about it. They might not hire you.

I remember in high school when people used to say, “Don’t stress out about what other people think of you because no one will even remember you in, like, 10 years.” But that’s not exactly true.
If you got into a fight in front of me in middle/high school, I remember your face, I remember your name, and I remember how you thought you were the next karate kid. If you don’t look like Mr. Miyagi at our high school reunion, I will be disappointed.

When walking around a book store, it’s often hard to tell the difference between the paranormal romance and the regular romance section, but it is very easy to tell when you’ve gone from the romance section into the erotica section. If there are handcuffs on the cover and you’re not standing in the mystery/thriller section, it’s probably erotica.

On a related note, if you’ve walked into a section where every cover is of a teenage girl in a fluffy dress staring you down like she is about to stab you or kiss you, you’re probably in teen paranormal romance.

I like to tell myself that every single thing that appears on my television is made up. It’s all fiction, they’re all paid actors, and the advice they give you only applies if you live in Narnia. I prefer not to believe that the people on Hoarders or Oprah or Property Virgins actually exist. Try it. You’ll feel tons better about the state of humanity… and of the world.

Most songs out there are shallow, narcissistic, and would make you want to punch the person if they said it in real life. Once I accepted this and embraced it, listening to the radio became a bajillion times easier to handle:

Oh, hello Taylor Swift– marry me Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone, I love you and that’s all I really knowDid you become Romeo, TSwift? That’s new. Both Romeo and Juliet? Hm. That costume change must be tricky–I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress— And this is the part where you kill yourself on top of her seemingly dead body, isn’t it? Gah, but you are BOTH Romeo AND Juliet. How does that work?! DEATH-CEPTION.

Whenever entering a party, always know your exits: the doors, the windows, the windows with the fire escapes, the fragile looking walls that look like they could be kicked down. You never know when a fire or a riot or an apocalypse will happen. Also, if an awkward moment happens, nothing eases the tension like an escape that makes everyone think that there is a riot, fire, or apocalypse happening.

Sometimes, you see someone on the bus that looks like a Muppet and you will want to tell them. Don’t do it.

People will say, “That’s so deep” for the most ridiculous things.
Omg, He wrote Peace Love Happiness on his wall. That’s so deep.
Omg, you only live once?? That’s so deep.
Omg, my sugar cookies burned in the oven. That’s so deep.
Omg, the DON’T WALK symbol is red like the blood that will be spilled when ‘the man’ smacks you down, j-walker. That’s so deep.

I wish my life were like a video game. I would be like Scott Pilgrim, but with a college degree. I really love garlic bread.

I hope you enjoyed these bits of wisdom and thoughts from my brain.
Have a lovely day my home slices 🙂
Peace out.

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