Ears!

I was showing my parents one of the pictures from a previous post, and upon seeing it, my mom exclaimed, "You have to explain about the ears!"

so not ears... >.>

I informed her they were not ears, they were hands. But none the less, I feel it's time I do explain the ears.

When I was a baby, I'm sure the doctor must have said, "OMG THE EA- I mean it's a beautiful baby girl!"
Ever since I was a little little kid, my ears have been... Not big per se. But they ARE perpendicular to my skull. They stick straight out.

When I was a baby, my ears would actually suction themselves to my cheek in my sleep, and my mom would have to peel them off of my face.

My parents nicknamed me mogwai when I was little.

Then, only a couple years back, I was riding on the back of my dad's scooter. It was fast, not like one of those ones you have to drive on the bike lane. No, you could ride this one in the street, among traffic. Well, it was hard to hold conversations, so I would often just listen to my ipod. I had those earbud type head phones, and one of the ear buds came loose.
Never fear, my ear is near!
My ear actually caught it, and the wind blowing against it kept it in place.It was only when we came to a stop light that it fell.

Me holding my brother :) He has the ears too.

For a while I tried to convince myself that I had elven ears, and if only they were pointed they would be awesome.

I have come to the conclusion though, that they are not elven, just perpendicular.

Birthday!

Boyfriend doesn't want me to post this one. But it's his birthday, so I have to :)

During the same trip as the whole earring incident, my boyfriend wanted to take me out on a romantic dinner date. He's really sweet for the fact that he wants to be romantic, except with me it rarely works out that way.

The first plan was to stop by a friend's house, chat a little, then head to one of my favorite restaurants that is ONLY down there. There are none in my city. Cry.

So, talking at a friend's house ending up taking a little longer then I had expected, and my restaurant was closed. And by that time, the only place that was open was things like Mc D's... Not romantic in the least. We decide to try and still have a romantic dinner, but we're going to MAKE dinner. Maybe get stuff and go back to his place... Oh yeah, he lives with three other guys. That's less romantic then Mc D's...

Then he gets the idea, oh, we can have a moonlit picnic! Go to the store, get some ready to eat stuff, then find a park.

Wandering through the store was an adventure in itself.

"What are you in the mood for?"
"Oh, anything really. I'm not picky."
"Me either, I could go for anything."
"Me too."
"So, what do you want?"
"Anything you want."
"Hmm, I'm not that picky..."
"Me either... What are *you* in the mood for?"

Our first decision was made: A can of peaches. Then some sausage, cheese, bread, and the final piece of the romantic dinner was to be some sparkling cider. There were even wine glasses on sale, a dollar each!

We drive to the park, where it is practically pitch black.

It's cold, and scary at the park, and I'm pretty sure I saw a hobo just waiting for us to get out of the car. So we don't. We manuever into the back seat of his car (which I love, but gosh is she tiny. And HE may be skinny and flexible and able to wiggle back from the front seat to the back, but me? I was like a pregnant elephant...)

First bump comes from the fact that he can't OPEN the sausage. He struggles with the 'easy pull tab' for a few minutes, until I just grab it from him and rip it open with my teeth (at which point I can hear my parents weeping: 'noooo, we spent thousands of dollars on those teeth, they are not package openers.....). Divvying up the meat isn't exactly... graceful. The cheese wasn't so much either. Hunk o' meat, Hunk o' cheese. The bread was good, but crumbly and left a mess in it's wake.

Well, I think to myself, at least we have the cider. I love cider. So I try to open it....

It's not a screw top. It's one of those you have to have a bottle opener to do. No worries, I think to myself, and ask to have Boyfriend's keys, which should OBVIOUSLY come with a bottle opener. It was at this point that I realized, just because my dad always has a bottle opener on hand does not neccasarily mean that every guy has one.

Improv a bottle opener, I can do this! I try his keys, the belt buckle, my teeth, the seat, the glasses... Nothing. The bottle mocks us for the rest of the 'dinner'. As do the empty glasses, which we don't even have water for.

Now, boyfriend looked crushed as his romantic dinner barely even met the standards for 'dinner'. "I'm so so sorry," He kept repeating, whereas I was just laughing. I warned him that if he continued to date me, there would be a looooong line of dates like this.

Expectations Vs. Realities.

The part that makes me facepalm the most though, is when I went to his apartment the next day, and see our cider (because now it was OURS, since it was bought for OUR date) has been all but devored by his roommate.

"That stuff's pretty good." Was all he could say for himself.

(We ended up going to the restaurant later that day. And it was good.)

2012!

I am terrified of December 21st, 2012.

Will the world end? Will we enter in a new age? Will there be some sort of wondrous enlightenment, or nuclear war?

I'm not sure, but I do know I'll be spending the day under my bed, with my cats. Maybe my boyfriend, but I need someone to get food, and I'm pretty sure he volunteered for that job.

The fact is, so many different cultures have come up with the same date, the Mayan, the Chinese, the Hopi, and Nostradamus, how how how did they all come up with the SAME DATE? Doesn't that lend some sort of credibility that something is going to happen on that day, if all these separate cultures that had no contact with each other come up with the same day?

OR DID THEY?  (dun dun duuun!)

Another thing I am terrified of is aliens. The weird part isn't because I watched some sort of alien horror film (although "Signs" scared the CRAP out of me), not even because I got spooked from the X-Files, no, it was from watching history channel documentaries. The thought that I could have been abducted ALREADY and I wouldn't even know if they erased my memory. For all I know I could have been abducted twice by now.

My mother (in a true show of jersey love...) was kind enough to show me the theories that all these different cultures actually DID have contact with each other, through the aliens! The Ancient Astronauts! OH MY GOSH!

It was probably the aliens that are orchestrating 2012 in the first place! We're probably like the biggest lab rat EVAR, and that's when the expiration occurs! Maybe the aliens gave us that date to shape up by, or BOOM D:

Regardless of whether it's true or not, I know where I'll be on December 21st, 2012, where will you be?

Babysitting Part One!

As a teen, I did a lot of babysitting jobs. This has resulted in more then a few stories of either me or the children momentarily forgetting to use our brains.
The first one is when I was guilty of such an instance.

I was babysitting for a family that had four children, and our families were really good friends. I had babysat for them multiple times before, so I knew the kids really well, enough to trust them.

They claimed they hadn't eaten breakfast (I was over around 1) and that they really really NEEDED oatmeal. This wasn't just a want situation anymore, their very existence depended on the consumption of oatmeal. Now.

I might be slightly spoiled, but I never really had to heat water on the stove. We're big tea drinkers, and we have a little hot water heater shaped like a tea pot. You just put water in, click the button, and a few minutes later, TADA, boiling water. Well, the family didn't have one of those. They didn't have a tea pot either. So how the heck did they heat up the water? The first thought that crossed my mind was maybe like a pot, but then how would you pour it without a spout? huh?!

So I asked the kids.

Whoops.

They show me this Pyrex measuring bowl cup thing. And I asked them, "So your mom puts this right on the stove?" Oh yes, that's what she does, yep. For a second I hesitate, but then I remember, you put glass baking dishes in the oven, it must be safe to put them on the stove!

Sitting at the table, they are all quietly coloring while I wait for the water to boil. It gets hotter and hotter...

And then it explodes.




 
Glass, hot water, go shooting EVERYWHERE with a loud bang. I yell at the kids to get under the table, picturing in my mind the discussion I'm going to have with the mom later:

Oh yeah, that blood on the floor is just from the glass wounds. No biggie.

Luckily no one got hurt (I got burned a little as I tried to clean the glass and forgot to actually turn OFF the stove...), and the mom was more then understanding.

And from this I have learned, glass on stove is BAD!

Jersey Love!

So, this one only happened a couple of days ago.

And no, I'm not a mean person. I'm really not. See, my mom is from New Jersey, and we have this running joke that people from Jersey show love through pain. If mom makes you feel bad about yourself, she likes you. If she makes you cry, she loves you.
(I can almost feel her sighing as I write this. So in her defense, she's nice sometimes too.)
The reason why this is important to say is because you have to remember, when tears come, that means love is there.

 

*ahem*

Rini and Bug (sister and brother, 8 and 12 respectively) had decided that I needed to be woken up WAY earlier then I am used to. And not only did they wake me up, but they expected to me to not only hold a conversation, but be interested in what they were saying! My brain was having a hard time processing 'you are awake', never mind which pokemon was my favorite or what someone should be wearing.

Then we heard it. The Noise.

The Noise was a low pitched chime, but it caught everyone's attention immediately. Bug, my brother, gives me a "I know what you're doing look" and checks the volume on my computer. Except it's turned off.

"Maybe it's a ghost or something," I mumble, and my sister's eyes widen in horror.

(The Noise, drawn by my sister)

 

Now, I suppose a normal human being would have soothed her fears right then and there, but as I have already stated, I'm from Jersey. I have Jersey blood. They needed to know how much I love them.

Bug, being the mini-scientist he is, goes over to Rini's stereo, looking for the source of The Noise. The Noise is sporadic though, growing louder then stopping for a few minutes... then slowly gaining volume again. Rini's stereo is off too. Bug goes to check on mom, see if it's her music.

As soon as Bug leaves the room, Rini jumps in my bed and curls up against me, then goes completely silent. I ask her what she's doing, and she responds "I'm listening for Bug to scream because he saw a ghost."

Again, another great oppurtunity to comfort her. Nope.

Bug comes back, now thoroughly confused. Mom's stereo was off too. Rini jumps up, runs to the door, slams it shut, then quickly hops back into the bed. "Now it can't get in!" And of course, The Noise stops as soon as she closes it. I tell her she needs to open it, because our dog gets upset when there are closed doors. So she gingerly opens it... OH NO THE NOISE. 

 

It starts up loudly, scaring Rini, who is now plastered against me.

Now, I think I've shown them enough Jersey love at this point, so I say causually, "You know, it *kind* of sounds like a wind chime." Bug's eyes light up and he runs to check the wind chime in the kitchen. He comes back with a dissapointed look on his face. "No, it wasn't that."

"Maybe our neighbors have one?"

So the kids check, and yes, look at that, our neighbors have a windchime. And The Noise only happens when there is wind.
Bug is satsified with this, and goes on with his day.

Rini on the other hand was freaked out about ghosts all day.
I kind of fail at normal love.

kidney stone :(

No update due to angry kidneys :(

Now, this one might be kind of awkward, but bear with me. =3

My best friend in college, Leah, decided to take me on a bra shopping trip. She has little sisters, and has done the whole bra shopping thing before- a couple of times. Claiming some sort of bra sizing superpowers, I decided to challenge her amazing skills, since my particular size was hard to find.

This was when I was going to a teeny college in the middle of nowhere, so it was about an hour drive to the nearest store that wasn't walmart. (I swear, the main activity of the college students was friday night walmart trips. Or going on hikes in the woods-- which I actually did until I got chased by wolves. I never SAW the wolves, but I could hear them. It was scary.) So me, Leah, and Leah's roommate (I called her Organic Sarah <3 ) all raid the bra section.

Even Leah had trouble finding the right size for me. I go into the changing room, and (what else) call my mom for support. Stupid bras. They don't fit, or you get the stupid under arm pudge. I HATE the pudge. Or they hurt, or they make your chest look lumpy....

After a couple of failed attempts, Leah comes back with another armful of bras. Included in this group is like, the chasity belt of bras. It has TOTAL SUPPORT and features SIX STRONG CLASPS that hold and bind you in place ALL DAY LONG.

I get this monster of a bra on and... It doesn't hurt. No stupid lace on the front either, so it doesn't look lumpy underneath my shirt. Hm. No under arm pudge. It fits perfectly! This is ama-

Ow. Ow. Why is my skin burning?

It was at this point I remembered why bra shopping is so hard for me.

"LEAH I'M ALLERGIC TO THE BRA!"

Yep, there's that nylon allergy. My skin is on fire as I try to unhook the STRONG CLASPS that hold you in place ALL DAY LONG. As I'm trying to twist them off I'm begging Leah to help, and I'm repeating like a skipping cd "I'm allergic, I'm allergic, I'm allergic!! THE NYLON BURNS US!"

Finally the evil thing is off, and my skin is red and raw. It's at this point I remember it's not a single room dressing room, and I'm reminded of this fact because of the laughter I can hear coming from the other changing stalls.

The day ended in only like two bras fitting, and they were like 30 dollars each. But she was right, she DID find me one :)

Mall!

Every so often in conversations the topic of 'most embarrassing moment' comes up. Someone said jokingly once to me that it must be hard for me to pick just one time.

It's not.

A couple years back me and two of my friends decided to make a mall trip. We saw a movie, then were planning on getting lunch at the food court. Nothing big. Now, to understand completely, you have to know this was during the punk phase of my life. I had a whole outfit dedicated to black and white- white shirt, black tie, black and white strips knee highs and arm warmers, and a black skirt. I looked cool.

So, being silly teens, we all link arms and decide to wizard of oz skip through the food court. At 12:30 on a Saturday. It is absolutely PACKED.

I trip, no big surprise there. What I end up falling over is one of those 'Caution, floor slippery when wet' signs. The sign, not the actual wet floor.

 And when I trip over the sign, it's  not a simple 'whoops', no. I fall INTO a trash can. Head first. So not only do I fall into all of the old food, but remember? I was wearing a skirt?
The awesome force of momentum threw my skirt up, in the middle of the packed food court.

I don't go to that mall much anymore. 

Dinner!

I recently met my boyfriend's parents for the first time. Since I live in a different state, I knew that whatever impression I made was important-- mostly because I couldn't fix it. Until I was able to get down there again, I was going to be "that girl who______"
a) Spit all over
b) Broke the precious hand me down china
c) Fell over.

Even while I was packing, I made sure to pack 'nice' clothes (most of my wardrobe looks like a teenaged boy's, not a lot of room for nice.). When I knew we were going over to his parents house, I did my hair, make-up, everything. I wanted to make sure I made the BEST impression EVAR.

That didn't happen.

It started innocently. My boyfriend's little sister's friend mentioned something about nylon, and without thinking I blurted out "I'm allergic to nylon!"
"Oh really? What else are you allergic to?"
"Latex!"

Now. The first thing *I* think of is balloons. Or doctor gloves.
Mom and Boyfriend had a meeting (giggled conversation in the laundry room) about GUESS WHAT.

But I could recover. I tried to smooth over the conversation, finished dinner, (thank goodness my parents are interesting enough to talk about. Because all I wanted was my mom and dad. And that's all I could think about, and in turn, what I ended up blabbing about.)
Then, as we're leaving, his mom goes to hug me.
Yes!
This means that she doesn't hate me! You don't HUG people you hate!
She happened to have hoop earrings on. Now, for ANY other person alive, this wouldn't have been a problem. Me? Well, I managed to hook my thumb into it and rip it out.

I stood there for a moment, earring in hand, stuck between fear, dread, and embarrassement. I had ripped out my boyfriend's mother's earring. There was no graceful recovery from that.
"Where's my earring?"
"Uhm. Right here. Uhm. Sorry. I'll leave now."

Fortunately, they invited me back.    

Firsy day of work!

Over the past couples months I've been trying desperately to get a job. It got to the point where any standards I may have had (oh gawd please no fast food) were lowered (do you want fries with that?).
And finally, finally, I got a call back. For the same place as my grandmother has worked for something like nine years (she denies any responsibility in the job offer, but I still think she pulled strings.), and the interview, although quick, went amazing. I didn't spit on the interviewer (my teeth have these water jets behind them that like to embarrass me whenever they have the chance. For instance, I was getting a ride from a guy I completely and utterly adored at the time. I tried to talk, but no, no words came out, only spit. He exclaimed "EWWW" and proceeded to wipe his entire arm (I'm thorough) and the seat with the most disgusted look on his face. I kind of died.)

So! As far as I was concerned, this was a win for me!
Then the training happened the next day.
Saying I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. I'm working as someone who makes appointments for people who need their taxes done. Sounds simple enough, right? No. Oh no. Every other word out of my employers mouth is an acronym, and the EOE is SSH that ICMTS.
(Expectations of Employees is So Stupidly High that I Cried Myself To Sleep.)
I have no tax knowledge, in fact, I've never made enough that I even had to file. So when they start talking about 'basic' tax procedures, and then that we offer loans as well... 

The only loans I really understand are my student loans. But even there, I see the "PAY THIS AMOUNT" and I pay it. There are no %'s or meetings or UA. (unnecessary acronyms.)
As of this point, I don't even know what office I'm supposed to work at. Or how much I make. Or even what hours I work.
And my boss is out today.

First post!

And I'm pretty sure that's what my mom did the day I was conceived.

I was born on friday the 13th, in october. Now, do I believe in bad luck? Maybe. Maybe it's me, and maybe just everyone AROUND me has bad luck, I haven't figured that out yet. But the fact remains that I am one of the most unlucky, clumsy, silly people alive. So I'm going to be posting about some of the more... amusing times in my life. 

I hope you enjoy it a lot more then I did having to live it =p