I’m not going to post this week because of the season, but I didn’t want to just leave. I also wanted to share the wonder….
I’m back from my computer break. It made me feel like this 😀
That last sentence is a lie, I really felt like this 😦
I won’t go into details, but my bag fell in the toilet. Now I have to use a crappy replacement bag while my old bag is being disinfected. And by “old bag”, I really mean my old bag, not my grandma. Although, I did have to pull her out of the toilet when she slipped in one time. Hmmm…. I’m getting too technical.
My mustache on a stick business is branching out. I make mustaches, beards, and now a tear on a stick. Feeling sad? Pull out your tear on a stick! Clever, no?
I was stabbed in the arm with a pencil for the second time in my life. In 2nd grade, I stabbed someone in the eye. Obviously, whats-his-face from second grade is still pissed and trying to get back at me.
I’m also debating whether or not I should come out of closet… about this blog. I’ve been keeping the secret for too long, and I’m going to come out of the real closet anyways (there aren’t any presents in here!).
And that’s it.
So tell me…
What have you been up to for the past two weeks? What do you do for the holidays? Have you ever stabbed anyone in the eye?
For the holidays, I DON’T stab people in the eye. I also collect ornaments.
I’m writing in purple; I’m such a rebel.
Woah, now I’m blue. Didn’t expect that, did you? DID YOU?
There are going to be some changes around TL (Tedious Life’s cool, street name). I’m just going to get right down to it.
1.) I will now use TL when referring to this blog from now on. It is this blog’s street name (as explained above), and we should all respect that.
2.) My street name is Master Jedi DJ Fiddlesticks.
3.) In light of new, confidence boosting events, I will appear more weird (more me) in these posts.
4.) I feel as though I’ve finally found my personal writing voice because (see above).
Onwardeth to more exciting crap…
I’m going to make TL look prettier and easier to navigate; I will also blog a bit differently and less frequently because of other writing opportunities I am striving for and I also have no fear of grammar police hence this grammatically incorrect sentence.
The biggest difference will be Friday Flips. I might still write for this blog hop, but less frequently. Twitter and Facebook will not be updated, even though Facebook is already like that.
Well, that’s it. BYE!
Horses are strange creatures. I don’t know much about them, except that they make up 1/2 of a centaur and if you slap them on the ass while you’re drunk and yell “Hi, Ho Silver!” they’ll try to kill you. (That last fact is courtesy of my uncle.) I’ve pet kangaroos, fed lions from milk bottles, ridden elephants, and nearly been attacked by an Emu because apparently since it shared the same exhibit with the kangaroo they became lovers or something. The point is that I’ve done some pretty messed up shit with animals but riding a horse for more than an hour has not been one of those things.
The main reason why I don’t like riding horses is because they smell like horse shit. I don’t walk around smelling like human shit, so why do they think it’s acceptable? But, their sables are probably full of horse shit. You’re thinking. Even some cats know how to shit on the toliet, so why can’t horses? Seriously, I should be the one to invent the horse toilet to support them. I’ll also invent the “hoof wipe”.
The minor-yet-still-huge reason why I don’t ride horses is that when they do shit or pee it splatters. The only reason sables tell you to wear pants while horseback riding is because the piss will splatter on your legs. If that horse’s urine was water, he could clean tires at the car wash with that kind of pressure. (Lucky, pee off this man’s SUV… good boy!)
I digress. I finally did get on a horse again and it was amazing. We went through trails on the fields and in the forests. The horse was well trained and responded to my every command perfectly, nor did it smell that strongly of horse shit.
During our walk around the field, the horse stopped suddenly and positioned himself weirdly. Horse piss. That was obviously the pre-shit piss because what came afterwards…
I think I’m tramatized.
I share custody of a GPS. The GPS is named Barbara Walters.
Barbara Walters has a “walking mode” (GPS Barbara Walters, although I’m sure real Barbara Walters has this too) which is used when you have difficulty walking down the street without getting lost. I have to use this mode because I’m carless, or without car. At this point, you might think that I am some sort of carless loser who walks down the street holding a talking GPS named Barbara Walters. You would be correct.
Barbara: Turn right now.
Barbara: Turn left now.
Me: No, I’m not stupid.
Barbara: Turn around now.
Me: I just want to go to Burger King… *I hit “alternate route”*
Barbara: Turn right on DolphinfinxyzBenTen Street.
*I hit “repeat”*
Then Barbara got bitchy and started “loading” while narrating that she was, “finding your destination, finding your destination, finding your…”
Barbara: Turn right on DolphinfinxyzBenTen street
Me: Where is that? Barbara? BARBARA, ANSWER ME!
Barbara: Turn right now.
*I turn around and read the street sign which is something alone the lines of “Dove Crossing”*
Me: BARBARA, YOU BITCH!
Barbara: Turn left in fifteen and a half feet.
Barbara: Turn left now.
Me: That’s not even a road, that’s an office building.
The GPS map showed a nonexistant road on my left travelling through the office building. I immediently concluded that it must be some sort of magical wall like in Harry Potter. Was I magical enough to pass through? Would I have to whisper “I believe” or “I think I can” when I passed through? Would the muggles around me suddenly uncover the secret of magic when I passed through a wall in front of them? I just had to take this chance…
Barbara Walters: Turn left now.
Right now, you’re probably wondering if I was born stupid or if someone dropped me on the head as a baby… Well, I’m pretty sure my aunt actually did that but that’s beside the point. I didn’t actually do that. In reality, I was just too caught up daydreaming that I didn’t realize there was an office building there, but the outcome was the same in both realities.
Barbara Walters failed me; I will never be able to watch The View again without this feeling of shame and disappointment.
If I was in a car, I would have died. Barbara Walters tried to kill me. Fuck you, Barbara.
Do you own a GPS? Has it ever failed you?
This was my birthday. My friends forgot me. When I tried to call them the day after my birthday, they ignored me. They probably went to a Halloween party without me.
It was Halloween and Day of the Dead in America’s pants (Canada is America’s hat so…). Day of the Dead is a day when altars complete with food, flowers, candles, and pictures are set up in remembrance of a dead relative. It is believed that the spirit finds their way to the altar and enjoys the food and celebration. I hate Halloween since it always messes up my birthday (it was the 27th) so I decided to learn more about the Day of the Dead. I decided to make a fake Day of the Dead altar to Cesar Chavez, so I went to Michael’s and bought some candles, a paper mache skull, and some fake flowers. I’m not actually related to Cesar Chavez but I’m a pale Norwegian-American so I didn’t know what to do.
Setting up the Ofrenda (altar) for Cesar Chavez was a fun learning experience. It was actually worth getting the weird looks at Michael’s when I told them I was trying to use my candles, flowers, and skull to meet Cesar Chavez.
I didn’t meet Cesar Chavez. I still had fun learning…
I picked up the phone…
Chain smoking 45 year old woman: Are you a Democrat or Republican?
I don’t know.
Woman: Do you know that [candidate] will protect your money?
Me: Isn’t he the one who lied about everything?
Woman: Yes, but what he didn’t lie about was his promises to keep your wallet safe. [Other candidate] lied about those.
Me: Well, I’m actually a Canadian.
Woman: Really? Are there any Americans there?
Me: No, I’m from a family of Canadians. Although, my dog was homeless in the Chicago suburbs when he was a puppy.
Animal discrimination? I think so.
I realized that I had a blog I forgot about. I also realized that I’ve made so many mustaches on sticks that it’s now an addiction.
Online you can pretend to be anything. A single, young mom of 3 boys who blogs could actually be a married man of 50 with a pet dog. I used to think that I never did that; You know that I am a female Star Wars fan who can’t do math, but here I am writing a post temporarily titled, “I admit it, I am a man.”
It all started when I read a story about a “girl” who lived her entire childhood until she found her true gender. She was a man. I began to panic… Was I a man? That would explain my dislike of make-up AND why I have the urge to pull my pants so low that my boxers blow in the breeze (and I don’t even wear boxers, y’all).
I was going to the doctor’s anyways, so I took the chance. I asked…
Me: Am I a man?
Doctor: You marked female on your forms.
Me: Yes, but am I a man?
Doctor: When we asked you to pee in the cup, did you sit down or stand up?
Me: I was scared of what you would say so I kinda did both, I squatted.
It turned out that there is a book based on the story I read. The girl knew she was a man before she knew she was a man (if that makes sense…). Doctor told me this, told me I was not a man, and sent me on my way. That’s typical, paranoid me.
Speaking of this, last night I was checking up on my RSVPs. Out of all my family for my family party, only ONE person has RSVP’ed. I used Google to gain valuable insight about why my assclown family chose.
The results that appeared revealed that my Little Idiots might not even know what RSVP is or why that phone number/email combo is even there. I sighed with relief until I saw the comments.
I planned a surprise birthday party for my son. Nobody RSVP’ed, and NOBODY came! I cried but I didn’t let my son know. I don’t think his little heart could have handled it.
My little heart can’t handle it either.
People have been emailing/Twitter messaging asking how I’m doing and if I’m dead or not. I’m just coming back to blogging again but I’m not dead. I’ll give you guys a heads up when I am.