Monday, November 21, 2011

I Don't Know Why I Even Try. Seriously, WTF is Wrong With Me?!

Remember that time that I got in a fight with a dude over a shopping cart and then later admitted to child abuse and Anthony said he'd never go shopping with me again? Yeah, well, jokes on Anthony because I'm a fucking master of guilt tripping Jedi Master and he went with me again. Sucker. Oddly enough, the entire shopping trip went pretty well. We got food, I managed to remember most of the things we needed even though I didn't have a list and Ayla was all in all pretty content. It was probably the most successful shopping trip we've had in terms of actually accomplishing what we were supposed to.

I'll have you know that I even kept track of my own cart so I wouldn't get in undue fisticuffs with a stranger (which is probably good because the people in front of us were two older ladies and I've seen firsthand how scary old ladies can be: those vicious manxes.) So it came time to pay and... you know what? Before I get into the rest of this I'm going to give some background information:
I am a dog trainer and I have a little treat pouch that is pretty much a slimmer version of a fanny pack. I always put my treat pouch in my purse because otherwise I forget to bring it to class. Anyways, I keep a Ziploc baggie in there that I then fill with treats (usually string cheese.) Being who I am, I often forget to clean the pouch out after doggy classes.

So, back on track to the story at hand.

It came time to pay and I reached into my purse and (for reasons unknown to me) into the treat pouch. I proceeded to start to hand the cashier a small handful of cut up two-day-old string cheese. Honestly I probably would have attempted to complete the transaction if the look she gave me wasn't one of such utter confusion/disgust/concern. Yep, it was her face that tipped me off that I must have done something colossally stupid. Sure enough, I was somewhat abashed but instead of just laughing it off and explaining myself like a sane person "Oh wait, my card isn't filed with the cheese." fell out of my face-hole before I even put the cheese back in the pouch. Damn, damn, DAMN. Who the hell files anything with the cheese in the first place?! Cheese always gets its own place! Why do I always say weird things?!

Lucky for me, the cashier was very understanding (or she thought I was a lunatic and that smiling and reassuring me was the best course of action to remain unscathed) and kindly accepted my real debit card. I am also lucky that Anthony was too busy bagging groceries and keeping Ayla from flinging her tiny body out of the shopping cart to know what was going on. At this rate, he might even go shopping with me again. And that is the moral of the story: it only counts as a crazy moment if your significant other witnesses it.

Friday, November 18, 2011

This Post is a bit Funnier... but Probably Only if You're Me.

Ok, to set the tone... I text Anthony like a zillion times a day, because I feel like that is acceptable and that he owes me. What does he owe me? I don't really know, but that sense of entitlement is there. Anyways, I had put off texting him on this particular day until around lunch. I was probably mad about something but didn't remember what but was still trying to be badass. Anyways, here it all is:

ME: Hey. Can I get junk food for lunch, like from McDonald's? I feel like I need to eat it. I can't explain it. If it helps you decide, I only had ONE cup of coffee this morning so I am already ahead.

****Anthony didn't respond, so I sent this:

ME: If you don't answer I'll hide your toothbrush and let's just say that you will have to perform a cavity search to find it. Ewwwww. I just grossed myself out. Disregard!
ANTHONY: Yeah that is fine.
ME: What? No giggles? Cavity searches always make me giggle.
ME: I meant that cavity search jokes, not actual cavity searches because those sound awful and I'm not depraved, Anthony.
ME: Aaannnyyywaaayyys. How is your day going?
ME: Hey... are you ignoring me? It isn't because of the cavity search joke is it? Because in my defense I told you to disregard it.

****He still didn't text me back so I used some of my feminine wiles in an attempt to really get his attention.

ME: (I sent a photo that was totally black) Stuck the camera down my shirt. This is technically a picture of my boobs but I know you don't like it when I send you a picture of my boobs so I will just let you use your imagination here... I mean, the camera was down my shirt but for the sake of modesty I left the flash off. You're welcome.

****He never got back to me. When I asked if he liked the picture of my boobs I sent him when he got home, he just looked baffled (at my behavior) and shook his head and sighed. Stop sighing, Anthony, it isn't helping. Anyways, a couple days later, Anthony actually texted me but honestly I was sort of offended by what he and I said so I am now deciding to leave it all out. Sorry and you're welcome.

Here is some more stuff. I hear from Liz from time to time, which I love.

LIZ: I'm falling asleep in class.
ME: I'm falling asleep watching Ayla, eek! Are you in your philosophy class?
LIZ: Genetics.
ME: Oh:(
LIZ: So sleepy...
ME: Well, not like it helps but I'm gonna take a nap in your honor.
LIZ: I hate you.
ME: I get that a lot.

****That also probably made me look like a douche. But come on... if someone mentions they are tired don't you feel more tired too?! I know I do. I blame Liz for hypnotizing me over text messages. Dammit, Liz!

What can I say? It's been a slow week. I've had a headache for over a week that won't go away and haven't really been in-tune with most of the stuff happening around me. I've noticed that I am probably at my most normal when I am rendered incapable of speaking or thinking. That probably doesn't bode well for me. In other news, apparently Craigslist is biased against vampires, or people wanting to be vampires, because it never posted my ad. Or, Craigslist is actually run by vampires and they didn't want their secret to be uncovered so they blocked my post. Touché, Craigslist, touché.

This Post is not Funny at all. Sorry.

I don't think it's any secret that I am a huge fan of using birth control and stuff of that nature. I don't think that women should be baby-making machines and I very firmly believe that if a woman only wants to have one or even zero children that that is her choice and the methods she uses to stick to that are fine. I don't like abortion, but I would rather it be available to women so it can be done safely than it be banned and women resort to using knitting needles or coat hangars. Anyways, I digress. I greatly resent the implication that people who use birth control are somehow thwarting God's plans for them, or that they are somehow morally bankrupt. I'm sorry, but if you're judging someone for actively taking measure to not get pregnant until they are ready then maybe you are the morally bankrupt one. Last I checked, the Bible isn't clear on birth control but is very clear on judging people... so let's just let people make their own damn moral choices when it comes to BC and love them regardless, ok?

There was a post on FaceBook today about the Duggar's (the people with like, 19 kids with #20 on the way) and it included a link to a blog with a post titled "20 Children is NOT "Too Many." I was a little offended on both sides of the fence, to be honest. I mean I don't think people should be attacking the Duggar's and calling them heinous, awful people... but at the same time I do believe that 20 kids is way too many. If you have so many children that you rely on the help of the older kids to care for the younger ones, then I think it's safe to say that perhaps you are in over your head. It isn't the job of the other children to play parent, it is your job. Likewise, I feel that it is somewhat irresponsible to get pregnant after a previous pregnancy had so many complications (due to the mother's age etc.) I'm not trying to be judge-y, but come on... how responsible is it? People get up in arms about a teen getting pregnant but no one thinks to question a 45 year old mother of 19. It just seems sort of lop-sided. All the same, it is their choice and obviously their children are all very well cared for and very well loved. I can't fault them for that in the slightest. Being a parent of many children is not in the cards for me, but some women just feel called to be a mother all their life. Every woman is different, every situation is different, and judging the Duggar's seems like a silly thing to do considering that they are obviously able to support their baby-makin' habit and care for their kids. I think that Octo-Mom and Kate Gosselin are more morally reprehensible, personally.

I will just leave it at that. I wish the Duggar's the best and ask that both sides of the fence stop being so douchey. Women aren't baby makin' machines and people who choose to have a lot of kids aren't Satan-incarnate. We all have different opinions, yes, but there isn't a need for either side to be so vehement.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Shit Like This is Why Anthony Hates Going to the Store With Me. It's Also Why I Hate Going to the Store by Myself.

Most normally functioning human beings can manage to go grocery shopping without any trouble. Oh, how I wish I were you, normally functioning people. Unfortunately for me, the hormone craziness of pregnancy combined with my own unique brand of craziness has made me a touch unstable. Not like, gonna stab someone unprovoked unstable, more like the "This may not be socially appropriate" filter between my brain and my mouth is broken. Hang on to your privates everyone, I have no idea what I'm going to do next. The shopping trip started well enough I suppose. Anthony was all like "Hey, what do we need to get?" and I was all "Ummmm, let's grab a peck of bananas." which earned me a couple of odd glances but I didn't care because I was panicking due to forgetting to write a list. Seeing my anxiety, Anthony did the manly thing and took Ayla to go meander around the store while I worked my anxiety out on my own. Thanks oodles, Anthony. I sort of wandered around for a while and eventually got some stuff that I think we needed, but since I've been living off of sandwiches for the past two months I can't really be sure what a normal diet is anymore. Fucking hormones.

So since shopping is really boring for toddlers, Ayla got all pissy and Anthony had to carry her around for most of the shopping trip. No big deal. I sort of just floated along lost in my head and didn't really come out of my daze until we were in the check out line. This is where things got sort of weird and caused Anthony to tell me he didn't wanna shop with me anymore. At this store, you bag your own items. Due to irreconcilable differences in bagging protocol, Anthony does it because otherwise we fight. Anyways, he was standing over at the end of the little conveyor belt starting to bag things and the guy in front of me (after paying for his shit) grabbing the cart. Well, I thought it was my cart so I grabbed the handle sort of like "Hey dude, there are plenty of carts here, you don't need to take mine you douche face." (I said that in my head.) He turned and sort of gave me a confused smile and tugged on the cart. I tugged back. He glared at me. I gave him a sarcastic smile and happened to look over at Anthony and Ayla because I wanted them to witness this asshole trying to jack our cart. Anthony was giving me this "What the fuck is wrong with you?! look and I realized that Anthony had our cart. I knew it was our cart because Ayla was playing in it. Fuck. I had the decency to be abashed and give the nice man his cart. I pointed out the irony of fighting over a cart in a store FULL of carts, but the guy didn't think it was as hilarious as I did.

If only it had ended there.

After bagging everything Anthony had to pick Ayla up out of the cart because she likes to try to kill herself with bags and stuff. Due to Ayla being a toddler (i.e. a pain in the butt) she had a bit of a hissy. Anthony was all cooing to her and stuff and for some reason that bothered me and I was like "Dude, sometimes the best solution when she is fussy is to just throw her around." I said it more loudly than I had intended and the same man who tried to steal my cart was in front of us in the check out line somehow ended up behind us on the way out the store and he heard what I said. He gave me this sort of wide-eyed look and I was all "Not like, throw her throw her, just like, a little bit throw her." his eyes were about the same size and shape as a silver dollar and I was like "I'm not abusive!" he gave me the "That is exactly what someone who is abusive would say." look and I was all "None of this is coming out right!" which earned me a sort of understanding (yet suspicious) look. Anthony whisked me away to our car before I could do any more damage.

Moral of the story: Anthony will never go shopping with me again and I am now too scared to go by myself because knowing me I could very well get myself arrested.

****In other news, Anthony swore that he would block Web MD on our computer ever since I started dying from a terminal illness every week. He hasn't blocked it yet and now I've diagnosed myself with a brain tumor. Thanks, Anthony. I go in to the doctor tomorrow to demand an MRI (because anything less will not satisfy the monster that is my crippling anxiety) and quite possibly some awesomesauce pills (to be taken after the baby falls out shoots out bursts forth is born.)

Sorry this post is so boring. New post coming soon on weird ass texts/messages.
I would probably update more if Web MD were blocked....

Friday, November 11, 2011

Things You May Like to Know About Me. Or Not. Whatever.

It's no secret. I can be a bit difficult. I compensate for my ADD and anxiety by being OCD. I don't scrub our house with bleach or insist on washing my hands five-hundred times a day, but I do insist on having my routines and rituals. Without these little oases of sanity my day (from my perspective) is out of control and awful. Anthony occasionally gets irritated with me for being "difficult" but instead of feeling bummed out about it, I'm going to make fun of it. That is just how I roll.

Things you should know about me

-Guess what? I LOVE lists. I make lists everyday. I like the feeling I get when I check something off of the list. Also? They help me stay organized because otherwise I would make twelve trips to the store every week instead of three.
-I need my fucking calendar. I write everything on my calendar that I need to remember. Appointments, play dates... I do this because....
-I need to know what is going to happen well in advance or else I turn into a mentally unstable bitchasaurus that wants to stab you.
-When I am not given ample warning, I get anxious and then I get angry.
-My anxiety attacks are nothing personal. I can't help it. I've gotten better about controlling my response to unexpected/surprise scenarios but I can't always contain how anxious and upset it makes me.
-In spite of being home for most of the day, I don't actually have a lot of time to clean and stuff. Yeah, I know I could keep our home spotless if I dedicated every free moment to doing so but...
-I need time to myself. I need Ayla's naps so I can do weird stuff like blog, look at LOL cats, nap, eat and most importantly do my damn makeup. My priority (not surprisingly) leans more towards my mental and emotional health than having a completely sterile home.
-Animals make me happy. Cats, dogs... anything furry (except for spiders) evokes an "Awwwwww!" response from me. Endorphins all over the fucking place, mang. That being said....
-I will always have a pet. Be it a cat or a dog, I refuse to not share my home and my life with an animal as a companion.
-This may shock you, but I have some very strong opinions. My preference is to keep my "strong" opinions to myself since really, I am not into debating/fighting/being an annoying douche. Be that as it may...
-Once you ask for my opinion, I am more than happy to share it with you. In depth. With footnotes and headers and shit.
-I care a lot about manners. I was raised in a home that did not tolerate impolite behavior. We received consequences for our "bad" actions and were praised for "good" actions. We learned how to do things like call before we go over to someone's house and not make last second plans unless it is an emergency... that being said...
-I get a little testy when people ignore common courtesies like calling before they come over or inviting themselves over. Along those lines....
-I also get upset when last-second plans are sprung on me like "Oh, by the way, I told so and so that we would go and do such and such with them in an hour." Shit like that drives me crazy. I need my damn 24 hours notice! (Please note that there are circumstances where last-second stuff is ok, like in an emergency or if it involves someone I am incredibly fond of. In general, however, I dislike last-second plans/changes in plans, immensely.)
-In spite of frequently being around a startlingly large amount of negativity, I am a positive person. I am not a bobble-headed optimist, I am not ignorant, my positive attitude is a choice. I still get depressed, I still get angry and I still somehow manage to be pretty positive overall.
-When people assume the worst about me, I get fucking pissed. I skip right the hell over sad and enter directly into mad. The mad is amplified when explanations ("no, my intentions were these beautiful and lovely and pure intentions!") regarding my motives are not believed. The point of me clarifying my intentions is so that you can rest assured that I am not a douchebag and that I am sorry for coming across as a douchebag. I mean come on. If I had shitty intentions then why would I apologize for how I came across and try to remedy the situation? I wouldn't and as has been observed in some situations were I intend to be an asshole, I don't.
-I don't like to share my food. This isn't mature, but it's true. I don't like it when people try to eat off of my plate or drink out of my glass. Be that as it may....
-I reserve the right to eat anything I want right out from under your nose and sample every beverage of yours that looks tasty.
-Extremist views regarding religion and politics annoy me. If I wanted to know I would have asked. The reason I didn't ask is because I could sense the crazy and didn't want to be subjected to a thirty-minute rant about how picketing in front of Planned Parenthood is helping babies. You know what? Fuck you. You would save more babies if you donated money to charities helping children in Somalia than by telling scared girls they are murdering babies, or even by donating to Planned Parenthood so they can give out contraceptives to girls and boys. Moral of the story: judgey people make me sad-mad.
-It will annoy me when you pout, but when I pout I want to be treated like royalty.
-The great outdoors are wonderful and I enjoy them.... for about 2-4 hours at a time. Any longer than that and I start to suffer from conditions such as 1) sun burn 2) bug bites 3) frost bite 4) "I've been on my feet for like four fucking hours and I want to go home!" syndrome.
-"Nerdy" does not quite begin to describe my brand of humor or my spectrum of interests. I prefer the term "eclectic" or (since I am ever the word-smith) punny.
-Anger is an emotion that I don't let out much. It takes a great deal to actually get me to raise my voice or even "rant." When I do reach that point there isn't a whole lot on this Earth that can stop me. So, if you insist on being an asshole, at least know what you're in store for if I lose. My. Shit. Because it catches most people horribly off guard.
-When I start to get irritated/frustrated, I smile a lot and talk very softly. Next stop: RAGE ATTACK.
-I spend a lot of time thinking about silly things and giggling to myself. Sometimes the only person who can get my humor is me, and I'm cool with that.
-Generally, if I don't have something nice to say, I don't say it. It's just the way I was raised and I tend to raise an eyebrow when others don't do the same. Not in a judgey way, more in a "Really? You think that here and now is the best time and place to share that?" way.
-There are times when I just can't explain my behavior. Why did I eat two pounds of ice cream and then cry for an hour? I don't know. I suspect it was pregnancy-related.
-When it comes to animals, children, mental illness and spirituality I will always have some very strong beliefs. I will always advocate for humane and ethical treatment of animals, I will always care deeply for children and advocate for their rights to be safe and thrive, I will always put the smack down on people who belittle the legitimacy of mental illness and I will always defend my spiritual beliefs. When it comes to these areas, my beliefs are firm and there is nothing you can say or do to change them... so please, don't thump me with your own opinions. I don't care if you base your opinions off of your own fears, what some guy on TV said or off of what a book says. I would love to discuss these things with you, but only under the agreement that we are not debating or trying to change each other's minds. When it comes to powerful topics and the beliefs associated with them, I must insist that things be respectful, because frankly we both deserve that.
-While I am not a totally picky eater, there are some foods that I have always disliked. Fish and seafood, for example, are a couple things I despise. So, thanks but no thanks, I would rather not try that shrimp covered fish face.
-There are rare instances when I am not hilarious. Try to hang in there.
-Around Christmas-time each year I get this peculiar urge to listen to Christmas carols... in Japanese.
-Decorating is not my strong suit, so don't ask why the house isn't all festive and shit. It's not festive because I lack the capability to make it so for two weeks out of the year. Do the math! That is hardly worth the effort.
-My domestic skills (aside from cleaning) are not fantastic. I am not great at (nor do I particularly enjoy) cooking, doing laundry, sewing or decorating. Please don't assume that I do or I'll break your face.
-I may actually kill you if you interrupt me while I am reading.
-My friends are extremely important to me, I don't put up with shit-talk about them.
-Yes, I know my brother and I are the socially inappropriate duo from Hell, but after you hang out with us for a while we promise that you'll begin to see why cannibalism is so funny.
-Sometimes, when I get into a funk, I cope with it by sleeping a lot and not wanting to do anything ever. Nothing personal, just bear with it for a day or so, I'll be back shortly.
-Grocery shopping stresses me out. Please don't make me go alone!
-Going anywhere alone kind of stresses me out... PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME GO ALONE!
-I am not, in fact, very fashion-savvy and tend to think that parting my hair on a different side is quite exciting.
-Generally, I only threaten to kill/disembowel those I love most.

These are really all the things I can think of that someone might want to know about me. I am sure there are some things in there that people quite possibly don't want to know about me. Oh well.

****Next post will probably be funnier.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Shit's Gettin' Real, Ya'll

So, as mentioned in a previous post I am better off being undead. That being said I have finally created a Craigslist ad to help me enlist a vampire so I can start my unlife ASAP.

There. In case you're too lazy to follow the link.

****I also made an ad to post on Eugene's Craigslist because I suspected that it is also a "happening" city. I added a couple gems to the question section. Enjoy.

Seriously how lazy are you? Just follow the link! Either way you have to click, is the image really more rewarding?! *SIGH!*

****I'll be updating this post with replies to said ad as they roll in.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Conversations That Might Make Normal People Cringe

So I was messaging back and forth with my friend Danielle over Facebook. For some reason we started discussing home-schooling which for some reason inspired me to send her a link to the post about my type 2 naive/ditzy sister in law. What follows is the appropriate portion of a conversation that ensued (I realize that my interpretation and your interpretation might be different but don't care.)

LMAO awwwww that was endearing, in a messed up sort of way, but rather sweet really

I'm sort of weird. Anthony honestly believes I want to kill her. But I don't. She just makes me want to kill myself because next to her I'm like "OH MY GOD. I AM A HORRIBLE, CYNICAL, HUSK OF A HUMAN BEING!" she's like a unicorn, all innocent and stuff. I think that five years ago me would have wanted to crush her ruthlessly, but current, better adjusted Chelsea just wants to keep her as a pet. ....Ok, yeah. I see where you're going with the "messed up sort of way" thing. I mean, my house isn't even big enough to fit that basket somewhere so I couldn't keep her anyways. Damn it.

Well test it out for a few weeks, buy her favorite snack, and reward her positive behavior, see if perhaps she can grow and learn when given positive reinforcement before you go and buy her a basket

****Even though I make some pretty bizarre jokes, I really do love this girl dearly. She is an amazing person and honestly, in spite of her extreme (compared to me and Danielle) religious view she is still probably the least judgmental, most loving person I know. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, all ya'll who think religious people are all douchebags. I am truly honored and privileged to have this girl in my life and wouldn't trade her. Also, when I make really inappropriate jokes that I instantly regret making in her presence, I don't have to do any damage control because she (usually) doesn't realize. We are a perfect match. I can make all the horrible jokes I want and not worry because she will still love me and think I'm hilarious. What I am trying to say is that when you know this person it's awesome because everyone wins.

This is a follow-up to that Facebook conversation (but in texts):

So if sister in law is a unicorn (all things pure and wonderful) would I live forever if I drank her blood? Never mind. I'm pretty sure drinking blood is frowned upon (like keeping a person in a basket as a pet isn't) help! The crazy can't be contained!

Maybe it is like in Harry Potter. It would only be a half-life. And that basket was hella nice. I would love it. Drinking blood is frowned upon but vampires do it and look how popular they are. They may even keep humans as pets in baskets.

So fuck it. I may as well be a vampire. That way I'll a) be popular b) get a human pet (ghoul?) and c) get to bite whoever I freaking want and I won't have to explain myself.

Yeah 'cause if they pestered you too much you could just kill them, or better yet, glamour them and make them do your bidding. Who would not want that? As long as you are a True Blood or Dracula type vampire and not a Twilight type vampire.

Me: Exactly. This is the best idea we've ever had. I'm gonna tell Anthony. He might know where I can get turned into a vampire.

Downtown Portland would be my guess. Or somewhere in California. Nothing cool like a vampire creator would ever live in Salem.

Me: That's true. I should post on CL and see what happens.

Danielle: Lol. Oh the freaks will think it's Xmas. You need to post replied if you do.

****And I will. I'm working on making an ad right now. I have to be careful with my wording though so I'm reading up on some vampire lore to make sure I don't sound stupid when I ask if anyone can turn me. I'll post the ad as soon as I can and replies as they come in. Look forward to it!

The following is something I sent to Liz (one of the four people in the universe who don't always cringe at my humor.) To set the scene, hubby had been sitting at the computer and some story about Dancing With the Stars had popped up on Yahoo! Hubby, being a man of sophistication, sniggered and said "Dancing with the Farts!" (which of course made me snigger too) and I replied "I routinely dance with my farts, that is why they are so beautiful."

"I routinely dance with my farts, that is why they are so beautiful." I just said that to my husband. What. The. Fuck. I've lost my mind. He calls Dancing With the Stars "dancing with the farts" (haha! we are so mature!) so technically what I said was a rebuttal to what he said but still. He looked at me the way a kitten would look at a rabid honey badger.

Haha! That man must seriously love you!

****And you know what? Yes. For some reason that I cannot figure out my husband loves the hell out of me. I wake up every morning and feel lucky as hell to share my life with him and then I wonder if it's all some clever illusion (like The Matrix) and wonder when I'll wake up and realize my brain juice is being harvested. But I digress. Anthony loves me the way I've always longed to be loved and I love him more than I've ever loved anyone before. In spite of our differences we make a wonderful team and I love being able to claim him as my husband.

This is some more between Liz and I:

Oh. I need help writing an ad to put on CL.

Ad for? I'd love to help.

I need to find a vampire in the Salem/Portland area to turn me into a vampire.

? Dude... if they can fly you can post that shit anywhere.

Danielle and I were talking and decided that drinking a unicorn's blood in the long run is not as beneficial as being undead (vampire) it's an investment. Immortality, popularity and minions? I can't say no to that! Hence I need to find a vampire. It makes perfect sense, Liz. Oh shit. I'll ask Danielle about the flying. She would know, she on the up and up regarding undead lore. But they have to speak English because this isn't something that affords mistakes.

Yeah, fo' sho'.

****And that is why all my free time today is dedicated to writing a compelling Craigslist ad that will convince an elder vampire to turn me into one.
There is no moral to the story except that if you ever get a text from me it might be safer to ignore it...

I don't have anything else inappropriate/funny/stupid to share. So I guess this is "see you later" until I have some more weird shit to post. Peace out mofos!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

This Should Surprise No One...

Every year around Fall, my parents ask us for our Christmas lists. It's just a little tradition. When we were just kids, we were sure to give our parents a list on a biweekly basis 'cause, well, you know... there was just so much stuff. Now that we are adults, we have to be reminded that Christmas is coming because otherwise we would probably miss the holiday entirely and spend all day sitting around the house being cold and watching MythBusters reruns (hey, sounds like a good time to me, sans the coldness.) Anyways, this is an email I sent to my parents.

From Me:
I don't know what Anthony wants or what WE need, but I know this: I've been building this wish list on Amazon for the better part of 6 months. So yeah...
I'd really like the seminar DVD's to be a priority since my time to read is pretty limited on account of having a child (who by every indication may have relatives in common with Godzilla) is so busy. Also on account of I'll be having another one soon-ish. I'd still LOVE any books about dogs (on this list) but the seminar DVD I REALLY want (even more than I want a puppy) is this one.
It was very difficult for me to prioritize that, I hope you know that. VERY. HARD. INDEED.
In any event... hope this helps. (It probably doesn't help at all since what it's really doing is cementing in your minds the certainty that I *may* be completely crazy for animals. Wait. You already knew that? Nooo waaayyy!)

<3 Bear My Dad's Response:
Read my eyes rolling back into my head....:) I don't have time at work, and i realize it isn't Christmas eve yet, so we might have a little time to look at this. Uh, thanks for being so concerned that you have an answer when we ask what you would like for Christmas that you have been working on this for six thoughtful of you.

****And that is what I get for taking some damn initiative.

My Response to His Response:
Mum asked! It was not all me! And the wish list is mostly to keep track of the books that have been recommended to me by colleagues, Mr. I-think-my-daughter-is-totally-shameless.

Dad's Response to my Response to His Response (??!?!?!!)

****He probably thought he could just end it there, but that is where he messed up. You see, he implied that I am a hoardy, selfish snatch-face and that made me a) very defensive (because it's not true!) and b) sort of giddy (because I'm unbalanced that way.)

My Final Response
You can send us your Christmas list, but in the end we will probably take creative liberty and get you something weird like dumb bells shaped like 50's cartoon characters or a book about beards of the Civil War era. I mean.... we'll look at your list but you have to realize that you are dealing with two (ok, so only one) really bizarre person with hummingbirds on crack for frontal lobes. So, with that being said, please send us your list so we don't feel like complete jerk-faces for just sending you all an enormous list of stuff that includes lots of books on dogs, a well fed frog (named Roméo), and fly fishing thingies (I do not even begin to have the vocabulary for these contraptions.) <----he doesn't really want the last thingy, but I thought it was hilarious. It's like polio braces but with fishing poles attached.... which really isn't funny at all because polio isn't funny.... but it's almost funny in this case. I would say the joke was successful, just needed a different delivery.
PS: Maybe a better list to send us is a "Under no circumstances do I want this" list. No guarantees, of course, but we will try very hard to not get you something you despise.
PPS: You can give this email to mum. It just occurred to me I may want to learn how to actually use email so I can include more than one person in a reply. Until then though spreading the word is your job. Peace out! XOXO

****For the record, I really don't know how to include more than one person on a reply. I usually copy and paste and resend to the other person. It makes me feel really busy and productive but at the end of the day really it just means I'm technologically impaired (I'll get it checked, I swear.)

I'm awaiting my dad's response (my mum's was less than favorable, but that doesn't matter) and will update then! Yay!

Monday, November 7, 2011

More Weird Texts

Seriously. It never ends. It's like I'm some sort of crazy person. I can't even imagine what people feel like when I text them, it must feel like some sort of messed up Russian Roulette. "Is this a normal text or is Chelsea asking how hard you can throw a toddler without killing it?" (I've never actually asked that because I'm not a damned monster, people) is what they all must wonder. Well, for you (the people I don't text) you need not wonder anymore. For the most part if a person gets a text from me, or starts a text conversation with me, the whole thing typically quickly disintegrates into madness and depravity.

A conversation that Liz started with me
Liz: "Discussing the merits of frog fellatio... Since frogs don't have teeth, they don't bite, maybe the clamping felt good?"
Me: "Omg! LOL sick! It makes me think of old toothless ladies turning tricks behind a gas station or something! D-:"
Me (short time later): "Or maybe the bonobo just liked hurting and demoralizing the frog, enjoyed the feeling of power. Could primates exhibit sociopathic and abusive behavior like humans? Hmmm... an interesting thought."
****I then realized that humans are primates and felt stupid, but I didn't want to point out that I had made a horrible error so I just didn't say anything and hoped she didn't catch it... but she probably did. Damn you Liz! ...And also thank you for not pointing out I am an idiot. XOXO

Another conversation Liz started
Liz "Hey... Do you and Anthony have sex while you're preggers and showing?"
Me: "Yeah! :-D ....You creepasaurus;)"
Liz: "I was talking with a friend who is eight months and wanting it but it freaks her boy out... He says he can feel baby..."
Me: "That's bogus. What he is feeling is the cervix:) There is a membrane (many of them) between his man sausage and the baby. If he's on top then he could feel the baby move through her tummy but the solution to that is to have her on top or do it from behind. He's an idiot. His dongle is not touching the baby, the uterus or any of that crap. He is psyching himself out."
Me a short time later because I can't leave well enough alone: "If he still doesn't want to do it the fuck it, roofie his ass. Mama gets what mama wants and if mama wants hot monkey sex he should give it to her... with extra monkey. Wait. No.... now I'm thinking about bonobos. Fuck! I hate those bonobos!"

This is a conversation (starting when it began to get depraved) I had with Danielle earlier today. To set the scene, she asked me what I would study should I go back to school (ethology, which is a discipline of psychology that deals with animal behavior specifically) and was beign very wonderful and encouraging. Being who we are, we couldn't just leave it at that and soon the convo just took on a life of its own.

Danielle: "You are highly intelligent. You enjoy behavior. Might as well do what you love."
Me: "I have another love but my parents would never forgive me if hubby and I started making and selling sex tapes. Well... I don't wanna sell them. I just wanna do it all the time. But they don't pay people to stay home and get boned by their husbands all day so I'd have to pioneer the industry which sounds like entirely too much effort compared to an advanced degree in the psychology field."
Danielle: "That is one profession that will always be in demand. Webcam and pay per minute and presto. Instant employment. Yes. Psychology will in the long run be more beneficial. Easier to discuss that on family holidays."
Me: "It's true. But I don't want other people to see us nekkid. I just wanna do it and get paid for it but without the other people viewing us thing. And being paid to be watched doin' it would feel too much like prostitution which makes me sad LOL so maybe I should just start charging hubby for sex? Wait no... that is straight up hookerism. Shit. Yeah. I'll go with the psych thing lol."
Danielle: "Can it be hookerism if you're married? Couldn't it just be earning a bit more for play money? I mean it does go back into the household."
Me: "I think we may be onto something here!"
Danielle: "It would be more barter than hooking right? lmao."
Me: "Technically yeah. Like trade a BJ for an hour of child care? Hey I could live with myself LOL excellent!"
Danielle: "Lmao. That is a good trade! Might come in handy when the new one is born though it might be for a shower or an hour nap instead lol."
Me: "I would give a BJ AND a hand job for a shower, even now."

This is pulled from a text conversation I had with my Da when he was taking orders for what people wanted for Friday Family Movie and Dinner Night (really he should know better by now than to text me, it always ends weird.)

DA: "I will see. Any fries, sweet tater or regular"
DA: "Crazy."
ME: "Nuh uh. YOU'RE crazy, I'm just enthusiastic about fries."

****My Da wisely opted not to respond. If he had it may very well have developed into a conversation about bonobos, and we all know that those end with videos of hapless frogs being face-raped. My Da doesn't know about bonobos and it's probably best that way because I don't want to be the one to tell him. How awkward would that be, yo? In any event...

****And all of this is just proof that I deserve to be paid to write an advice column. My qualifications for writing an advice column will be listed and explained in detail in another post.

Sometimes Less is More. But only if You're This Chick.

I admit I have a bit of a bias against ditzy, naive girls. It is a bias that is almost as big as my bias against asshole-ish, ignorant men. We have a new addition to our family, a sister in law, that is both ditzy and naive to the extreme. But here is the really fucking weird thing: I don't dislike her, I fucking love this girl. I can't really figure out why, because I do get annoyed at times with the things that come out of her mouth (her mind doesn't filter anything so things just sort of fall out of her mouth before clearing the common sense lobes and socially appropriate filter) as well as with her apparent inability to control the volume of her voice. Be that as it may, I have been forced to admit that there might be two types of naive/ditzy. Allow me to break it down for you.

Type 1 naive/ditzy: you want to crush them with the harsh realities of the world and sit back and laugh as they fail at every endeavor due to their many flaws and inability to learn from past mistakes.

Type 2 naive/ditzy: you just want to put them in a little hand basket and carry them everywhere so you can put a blanket over them when something bad is happening so they never see it. You also just want to do everything for them because they are so fucking sweet that you feel like an asshole when they don't succeed, even though you had nothing to do with any endeavoring.

New sister in law is very much a type 2 naive/ditzy girl. I submit the following for review:

****to set the scene, I have just put my kid down for the night and we can all hear her fussing over the baby monitor, I sigh and say "Sssshhhh! Go to sleep!" this earns a really excited response from sister in law who picks up the monitor**** "Can she hear us?! Oh I would have been more quiet if I knew she could hear us over the monitor!"

****I heard about this one from my husband who was trapped in a car with her and her husband for a couple hours on their way to a dinner engagement**** "How do you spell "bread"? Is there a silent letter in there?" ****Upon being told how "bread" was spelled (B.R.E.A.D, for the record) she sounded it out for a while. So. Goddamned. ADORABLE.****

My husband is convinced I hate her (quite the contrary, as I've stated) because sometimes I decline to be in their company. This is not due to disliking anyone, it is more due to me being constantly mentally, emotionally and physically taxed by the unceasing demands of a toddler that from every indication may be descended from some sort of tiny, insane dinosaur. I just can't always keep up with the weirdness of other people when I've spent all day trying to keep up with the weirdness of my spastic dinosaur daughter.

Update We got a new baby monitor and this one actually has a walkie talkie-like feature where if you push a button on the thingy you can talk to your bebe. So now guess who feels like an asshole? Me. Even though I was never judgmental or mad for her thinking the bebe monitor might be a walkie talkie in the first place. See?! Type 2's totally fuck with you!

****Would it be inappropriate to ask her what her dimensions are? I am thinking I might be able to find a basket to fit her in.

Update This is the closest thing I could find. There is no way I could lug this, my crazy ass godzilla baby daughter and a diaper bag around! WTF, internet, you have betrayed me!

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Sometimes I Text People Weird Things...

I am sure we can all agree that sometimes we send in a text message what we would never dare to actually say. Well, at least I can say that, because I'm honest. I figured that a great way to kick off this new blog (and pretty much give you a taste of what is in store for you) would be to write down some texts I've sent some very special (unfortunate?) people. I should mention that I did not ask their permission at all before I wrote this.

Weird Texts That I Have Sent This Month (That I Remember, Anyways....):

To my husband: "You make swans looks like robots."

****I still have no idea what I was getting at with this one. I sent it to hubby early one morning and have absolutely no recollection of doing so... Who know? Was I making some broad, artistic statement? Was I questioning the true grace of swans in comparison to robots? I will never know. Either way, my husband never responded to that text. Probably for the best since who knows what sleep-Chelsea would have sent in reply to the reply.

To My Brother (and then to some like-minded friends): "I have an idea. It came to my attention that people may be ashamed of hemorrhoids. Maybe because it is such an awkward sounding word that reminds people of leprosy and no one like leprosy of the ass. Anyways. I decided that a more modern way to refer to hemorrhoids is "rectum flowers" or perhaps "butt blossoms." It makes it sound cuter and adds intrigue. Like "Whoooooaaaa! Sounds waaaaayyyy eclectic and erotic! I wish I had some butt blossoms!" YOU'RE WELCOME, PEOPLE WITH ASS LEPROSY. See? I just made something uncomfortable and shameful desirable."

***I should defend myself for this one, because I am sure there are people with hemorrhoids who this may offend. I would like to offer exhibit A (here is a link to a google image search, NSFW) As you can see, hemorrhoids do kind of resemble a flower. So my modernized way of referring to them, while not entirely politically correct, is not completely without merit. In the even that you are still offended all I gotta say is "Would you rather be grouchy talking about your hemorrhoids or would you rather make it sound like something totally crazy you did in Vegas?" I rest my case.

A Text Conversation with Liz:
Me: "My husband and I decided that I should teach your animal behavior class (the part that explains the principles of operant conditioning anyways because I don't know shit about bonobos except that they force frogs to perform fellatio on them and I'm pretty sure I can't make that take up an entire class unless I just play the video on loop and if I did that I would be fired for being a sexual harassment panda.)"
Liz: "Hahaha! Don't worry, it's applied animal behavior, domestic animals only!"
Me: "Oh cool! So no birds...? Because my lessons on birds would be limited to "why birds are gross" "why birds are evil" and "how to escape from birds in the event of a THE BIRDS scenario (you can't, you're fucked, bet you wish you'd listened to my other lessons because then you wouldn't be in this mess.""
Liz: "Hahaha! Oh my God! You're hilarious! Though we do learn from chickens though.... Farm fowl."
Me: "........I hereby submit my resignation as professor of animal behavior. For reasons beyond my control, I cannot fulfill the requirements of dealing with dirty, stinking birds."
Liz: "Haha! God I needed that laugh!"
Me: "Glad I could help. I just hope for your sake that your current confused professor has taught you how to evade enraged farm fowl (and every sort of winged reptile.)"
Liz: "Lol, she's ok, at least there are no tests."
Me: "What?! How does that work?! I would put you all in a pit with a bunch of bonobos and time you on your escape! THAT is a test because you'll actually use those skills."
Liz: "Ha! Don't bonobos like... rape everything?"
Me: "Yes. Often in exchange for apples and sometimes for no reason at all. They also have homosexual and heterosexual sex, oral sex and anal sex. They are pretty molesty:( Also, apparently they face-fuck frogs."
Liz: "Face fuck frogs?"
Me: "I'll link the video to you. A bonobo in captivity found a frog in its enclosure, grabbed it, stuck its face on its wang and went at it. The frog died from asphyxiation:("
Liz: "Oh my God!"
Me: "Yeah. Be glad I'm not your teacher, yo."
Liz: "Totally link that to me!"

****And this is why I frickin' love Liz. She understands me. Later that night she sent me this gem:
Liz: "Would face-fucking frogs be considered tool use? I mean, he's basically using a 'fleshlight.'"

****The answer to that is Yes, that is technically tool use. It could also be considered violent and lethal frog rape. Either way, Liz always makes me feel wonderful because she doesn't shy away from my weird humor. Likewise, I find her humor to be delightful. Thank you Liz! (For the record and in case you are interested, here is the video I am referring to NSFW(?))

More Weird Texts:
"I think it should be mandated that all tempermental people who are prone to stomping off should wear GPS collars so their significant others can track them down and drag them to family photo time."

***Also so that the significant others can ambush them and stab them. Hey, I would never stab anyone. Unless I was in West Side Story, and then you sort of have to. Or maybe if someone was trying to like... I dunno... steal something? I just added that in there so people who do stab people felt included. You're welcome.

"Fuck. I need some cotton candy ice cream. Yes. NEED. You don't understand, it's a crazy-lady thing."

****In my defense, I am pregnant. Typically I don't crave sweets of any kind but being knocked up sort of messes with everything. So, in other words, on top of being completely off kilter emotionally I am eating things I would typically have no interest in... like sugar wafers and dill pickle spears and sometimes three bags of popcorn (one bag with each "meal.") I'm not proud of this, but hey... I can work it all off later... unless the hormones totally take over and I go completely homicidal. This is also a real possibility.

That concludes the weird texts for this month (so far.) Partially because I haven't really sent that many interesting ones and partially because in an attempt to free up space on my phone I accidentally deleted everything. So mission accomplished, technically.