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Positively Charged Perversion

8 Jan

I went to a strict all-girls Catholic school. It was junior year. I was late for Chemistry because my swimming class ran ten minutes behind.

I rehearsed my apology as I ran down the hall in my wet, blue dress and squishy saddle shoes. The instructor, Sister J, was a very sarcastic nun who often licked her lips and rested her large bosom on her lab bench. She did not tolerate tardiness.

I ran in the room. “I am so…so…sorry,” I began.

Sister J: We were waiting on you. Put in this video.

Me: Oh okay, I am so sorry, swimming ran late.

I put in the video, turned off the lights and sat down to catch my breath. Then, the following magic took place:

 

 

I snickered. My lab partner laughed and we heard a chuckle behind us. Suddenly, girly giggles broke out throughout the classroom and I just could not hold it in anymore and began crying from laughter. Crying.

When the video ended, I flicked on the lights.

Sister J looked at us and shook her head. “Ladies, you should all know better, and Miss M [that would be me], you are a pervert!”

I was shocked! A pervert! Why was I the only pervert!?

Then I remembered the day there was a naked guy seen walking in the woods next to school and I hauled my sweet ass to the window to check him out (for the record, I had never seen a real naked guy…as it turned out I wasn’t missing much).

I am reminded of this story because this morning my coworker looked out the window and shouted, “A NAKED GUY!” and once again I hauled my sweet ass over to the window like a puppy excited to see the mailman.

Eleven years later at 28 years old, the video still makes me laugh and apparently, I am still a pervert. Somewhere Sister J is shaking her head disapprovingly.

Whatevs, Sister J, I just love to laugh. Laughter, love and naked guys are pretty much what make this world go ’round, anyway.

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Sick Hallucinations?

7 Jan

I was so ill for part of last week, that I don’t even remember half of what happened. There are traces of things though–I went to the store at some point and bought earphones and apparently I almost set a pair of my gloves on fire.

Gloves

My favorite part was an email I just found in my drafts to someone named Alexandra Livingston. This is funny because I don’t know anyone named Alexandra Livingston. This was the email:

__________________________

Dear Alexandra Livingston:

__________________________

I checked my deleted items and spam and I did not receive something from her first. I wonder what I was going to tell this imaginary person? Or ask her? Are any of you Alexandra Livingston? This reminds me of the time I had surgery and the medicine they put me on made me hallucinate that I had parakeet named Carol.

Have you ever had a funny hallucination while sick or on meds?

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3 Jan

Here is where I guess it actually ends.

I never believed in anything until about seven months ago. I mean, I had hoped for things, but never truly believed in anything. Then someone I knew dearly and at one point loved romantically, died.

It rained buckets on the day of his funeral. I do not mean to be disrespectful when I say that the symbolism of this downpour was “appropriate,” but it was like we were in a movie or something. As we stood in the cemetery, the rain drenching us, I realized what many of us know but usually take for granted–life is short. Life is so short, we ought to be truly happy.

It is not that I was completely unhappy, but more that I was just existing. You may know this feeling. So, I took a chance and began believing in happiness. Over the weeks that followed, little things started happening, good things, so I continued to believe.

Soon I saw that the sparks of happiness were actually created by me and I realized that I was developing a new love for myself, too.

This week I faced a great difficulty and during this time it hit me that these two things, love for myself and happiness, will get me through anything.

So, here is where it ends. Fear, I mean. I am not afraid to continue down this path of happiness. I am not afraid to be in love. I am not afraid…what a wonderful feeling.

If you have not yet achieved this, you should take a chance and let the rain wash away fear for the sake of your own happiness, too.

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My Knight in Shining Nakedness

5 Dec

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Charm City, I dated a guy who owned a sword. This was not just any sword, no–it was a magical sword sworn to protect me from intruders (I suggested a baseball bat would be more appropriate, but quickly was told that I “don’t know anything about anything”). So, he became my knight.

The castle he rented was….quaint. It was also filthy and hot, so hot that we had to sleep naked. The entire place smelled like a stinky cat farm, but I didn’t mind because I loved him so and knew that someday we would be married and move to a larger, more majestic castle in Suburbia–a land rumored to have little to no sightings of crack whores. There, so I’m told, I would never again be followed home and robbed, nor would anyone break into my car and have sex in the passenger seat. It sounded like a dream come true and with him, it was going to be like a fairytale.

Oh, sweet illusion!

One HOT summer night, as my naked knight snored soundly next to me, I awoke to a rustling in the room. I peered around once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, but saw nothing. Then I heard it again. Suddenly, my knight shot up out of bed. “Don’t move,” he whispered. I remained still as he grabbed his sword and swiftly thrust it into a pile of clothes lying on the floor.

He flicked on the light switch and there he proudly stood, completely nude, with a BIG mouse on the edge of his sword. I screamed out into the night, absolutely disgusted at the sight of such a vile beast! Why hadn’t he manscaped recently?!

And the dead, bloody mouse was awful, too!

Mice were found everywhere that month, but the knight never did anything about it. One morning I was walking barefoot and stepped on a dead one and was accused of overreacting because I cried.

Things went downhill from there and needless to say, we broke up shortly after.

I was sad, but remained hopeful, dear readers, that someday there would be another knight, perhaps one who relied on modern techniques to rid a house of vermin, and maybe this time we would get to ride off into a sunset.

I so want a sunset.

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Yeses to these Dresses

27 Nov

I am really looking forward to the 2013 Spring/Summer wedding season because it will be alive with romance, vibrant colors and unique ideas. How exciting!

If your future husband is like most of the guys I’ve met, he may not have any wedding preferences at all whatsoever. While some women find this frustrating, I believe it presents a wonderful opportunity for you to explore your creativity. However, if you are crunched for time, consider one of these trendy, glamorous ideas that will delight guests and make your wedding a day you and prince charming will never forget!

 

Hot pink ball gowns will make for lovely, flawless photos

 

Light blue and Tinkerbell green are a bride’s fairytale dream

 

Guests will squint when setting their eyes upon blondes in Barbie pink and canary yellow

 

Your bridesmaids will look exquisite in this hot pink clusterfrig

 

A majestic headpiece will wow your guests

 

Be a blushing winter bride in a fancy ice queenish headpiece

 

I AM SO DOING THIS

 

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Happy Thanksgiving

22 Nov

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Cheers, everyone. This year I am most thankful for this wine and the creativity and friendship of every one of you. Okay…mostly for the wine. Just kidding. If I could have you guys and this wine at the same time, that would be great. Not like “have” have you, though. A blogger orgy would be a weird orgy. Too nerdy and thinky, probably.

Confession: I’d like Chris and red wine right about now. That would be perfect. Le sigh…I’m quite a dreamy romantic, believe it or not.

Guys, I don’t know if you know this, but I am tipsy right now…red, red wine you make me feel so fine, you keep me rockin’ all of de time. God bless UB40.

So anyway, I ate like 800 pieces of pie and washed it down with 800 glasses of wine. Thank god I remembered to wear my eatin’ shirt.

Oh and also, I am thankful for my hot pink underpants because they say “Ooh La La.” Yay!

I should get back to my family. Hope everyone is having a lovely day!

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Thankful in 2012

21 Nov

2012 has been a challenging year for everyone I know, and I think we have all grown a lot because of it. I am thankful for this growth. I am also thankful for these other things:

1. Hot dogs.

2. The power-ups Christopher De Voss gives me throughout the day. He’s 900 miles away, so I don’t even know how he does that. We’re like magical and stuff.

3. Magic and stuff.

4. Anything that eats spiders because I do not like those guys.

5. My budding hula hooping talent that will someday make me a vaudeville circus star.

6. That I never break my nose when I’m lying in bed and drop my phone directly on it.

7. My milkshake and the superabundance of boys it brings to the yard.

8. The roof over my head and the candy on my plate.

9. Laughter caused by Twitter. I can’t believe those people give that degree of funny away for free.

10. This surfing alpaca.

 

What are you thankful for?

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NeverEnding Imaginations

20 Nov

I love reading creative posts and catching a glimpse of what’s inside the imaginations of other bloggers. My imagination gets wild and crazy and I can think of a few childhood experiences that certainly played a major role in that development.

One example is my love for the 1984 film The NeverEnding Story.

Cue majestic music, bitches:
 


 

When I was a kid, I made my parents rent that movie every weekend for approximately two years. Something about it truly grabbed my imagination and expanded La La Land into a vast empire where I am still a beautiful empress with a British accent. I also blame it for giving me imaginary friends (a mermaid and a turtle) that lived in the sewer.*

At night I made up related stories while curled up on the floor in my Care Bears sleeping bag. In my head, I WAS The Childlike Empress and I lived in an ivory tower made of glorious light. I imagined (still imagine, just kidding, kind of) someday walking down the aisle wearing her headpiece:
 

But with real pearls. Image from Etsy.

 
Except back then I was jonesin’ for some Atreyu:
 

Atreyu sporting the Auryn. Image from Google.

 
Is there something from your childhood that you associate with the development of your imagination? Do you still make up stories in your head as you fall asleep? Have you ever put someone’s baby on a dog and pretended he was riding Falcor? No? Oh. I guess I haven’t either, then. That would be a weird thing to do.

Also, this is the song from the movie. Look at this guy. Just look at him…and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a never-ending story.

 

______________

* My imaginary friends and I are no longer in contact.

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Husband Requirements

14 Nov

Hi, possible future husband? It’s me, your possible future wife. Hello. How are you? Good. I’m well, thank you.

Listen, if you truly are my future husband, we’re going to have so much fun together. However, I’ve learned a few lessons from experience and at this point in my life, I think it’s necessary to list a few of my rules and requirements. I know what I want and I’m not out to waste my time or yours.

Requirements

  1. Have arms (at least one) and, if possible, legs (one will suffice) so we can link arms when you walk me home from the bar (I get wobbly). In case of emergency (a cobblestone road to cross when I’m tipsy and in heels, for example), you are permitted to carry me as long as I’m not wearing a dress. Thanks.

  2. Silliness is mandatory. I love to laugh and am not interested in people who take life too seriously.

  3. You must know how to use a grill. I love a man with grill skills. Sexy.

  4. It is essential that you help me perfect my sangria recipe, which ultimately will require you to drink a lot of sangria. A previous boyfriend of mine tried to help, but he drank it too quickly and that brings me to the next item on my list…

  5. You will not, under any circumstances, throw up on me. No exceptions.

  6. The minimum height requirement is five feet ten inches tall so you can reach the storage cabinets in my house that seemingly were made for giants. Also, those high-up spiders. High-up spiders will not be tolerated and as a trained killer, I think you know what to do.*

  7. Mentioning a previous marriage within the first three dates is mandatory.

  8. Current or past hobbies must not include making faceless marionettes.

  9. Walking through a door without holding it will not be tolerated and is punishable by, well, this blog, I guess.

  10. You must enjoy hiking and going on adventures to all the places. Lazy guys need not apply.

  11. It is imperative that you never give me whiskey because I will grow feisty. Trust me, you do not want this little volcano of fury on your hands.

  12. You may not already have a wife. If I’m going to be your wife, you can’t currently have one. Simple.

  13. Don’t poop on my floor or in your pants. You, sir, are a man. You are not a puppy or a baby.

  14. Take care of your talons. I refuse to marry a zoo animal.

  15. Don’t lie about your job. Actually, don’t lie at all. I’ll know when you lie. I have secret powers.

So, that’s it. If you can’t follow those rules, you aren’t my future husband.

Just remember, other people (two or three, at least) consider me to be super hot, which I guess is like regular hot, except that I’m wearing a cape. I have no problem flying this fancy cape to a finer, more agreeable location.

*You don’t have to actually be a trained killer….

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Stuff on a Plane

12 Nov

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The following haiku was inspired on a recent flight when the woman sitting next to me gave the flight attendant the finger:

 

Stay Wild

ripped jeans, snake-skin heels,
rocking that Joan Jett mullet.
doesn’t. give. a. fuck.

 

And now I shall present my SkyMall favorites from this particular trip (it changes every time):

 

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From the creators of vajazzles and pejazzles, BootDazzles!…but this time with feathers.

 

 

Here’s a little something for all those folks planning to be alone for the rest of their lives.

 

 

Finally, my favorite of all the SkyMall gems–Hiccup Stick. It’s a stick. For hiccups.

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OR just hold your breath.

 

Here is a video of testimonials for Hiccup Stick. Ladies and gentleman, I invite you to please keep in mind that it is a friggin’ STICK.

 

So what you’re saying is that I could go into my backyard RIGHT NOW and collect some sticks and sell each for $6.99 because of the hiccups? You’re joking. I’m wasting my life here, trying to make something of myself. Screw writing. Hiccup Stick, I am your new competitor. People, I will hunt you if you choose Hiccup Stick over my stick. I will sell my personal stick to you for one dollar cheaper, deliver it in my bathing suit to your front door and if you’re hot, for $4.00 extra I will give you a kiss on the cheek. Bonus feature? My stick was created by THE LORD GOD OUR SAVIOR. Just imagine, the Holy Trinity up in your mouth, helping you get rid of the hiccups.

I accept all major credit cards. Buy NOW.

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