the one where i answer the effing questions already

hey, remember how i'm supposed to be answering the questions i found at sarah's blog?

yeah, i sort of forgot about it, too.
you know, if 'forgot' means i got lost for a few days inside 12 shoe boxes full of pictures, then yeah. i forgot.

anyway, i suppose it's time to wrap this S.O.B. up.

question 2: have you ever had an out of body experience?

the short answer is no.
but as i've never stopped at the short answer before, i'll go ahead and elaborate.
i've never had an 'out of body experience,' but i think i might have had an 'other-worldly' experience.
i've always remembered a dream i had about my paternal grandmother--it was when i was about 22 years old, which means she had been gone for 8 or 9 years when it happened. i had a dream that my whole extended family was together in my grandparent's old house, which they hadn't had since i was maybe 5 years old. everyone was just hanging out--laughing, talking, fighting over scattergories answers. you know, the usual. but then i noticed my grandma sitting on the couch in the middle of everyone. i think i was the only one who could see her, and she didn't say anything. she didn't even move. she was just watching us.
could it be some leftover energy of my grandma's purposely trying to show me that she is still with us, watching us all the time?
or was it just a dream?
i've never been married to the idea that the dream was definitively some sort of visit from another realm, but it has always been in the back of my head--like, a possibility.

but, i would be lying if i told you that it doesn't seem more likely after the dream i had about my dad.

about two weeks after my dad died, i had a really bizarre dream.
i was working at the bar, and it was busy the way the bar can only be busy in your dreams. if you've ever worked in a restaurant, you'll probably know what i mean.
we have these dreams A LOT. it's like you're working in your bar, and all of the sudden there are 60 more tables than normal and they're all full and you're the only one working.
anyway, it was one of those kind of dreams.
i was running around in a huge crowd of people with a tray full of drinks, and all of the sudden i saw my dad run by with his own tray of drinks. for a second i was glad that i had some help, and then i remembered that my dad was dead, and i got very freaked out.
i put my tray down and went over to confront him.
before i could say anything, he put his hand up and said don't worry, i'm fine.
i said um, you've been dead for two weeks.
he again said don't worry, i'm fine.
and i said well, you definitely shouldn't be working. you're going to make yourself sick. you should rest.

still, all he would say was don't worry, i'm fine.
normally, i would do a better job of calling someone out if they were dead and trying to work at the bar.
you know, if that sort of thing ever happened, which obviously it doesn't.
but as i dream-talked to my dead father, it was like i got lost in a trance. his eyes were literaly like the ocean--it seemed like you could swim into them, and they seemed to be truly neverending. i'm struggling here to find the words to accurately describe the way they looked.
i guess it's enough, to say looking into them was sort of like looking into eternity.

and i never say sentimental shit like that, so you can assume i really mean it.

anyway, then 'don't stop til you get enough,' the michael jackson song, came on the jukebox and my dad and i started dancing around.

i woke up suddenly, and i was drenched in sweat.
normally, this would have been a nightmare.
i have 'nightmares' all the time, where nothing scary actually happens, but for some reason i wake up scared out of my mind.
john was sleeping next to me, and normally when i have a 'nightmare' i hit him over and over and repeat 'i'm having a nightmare' until he rolls over and holds me while i fall back asleep.

this time, i didn't wake him up.
this time, i woke up with a sense of calm unlike anything i'd ever felt before.
it was like i had taken a few too many xanax, really.
(and no, i hadn't taken a xanax that day. just for the record)

anyway.
i'm not trying to assert my experience as any sort of proof of any kind of anything that may or may not happen to us after we die.
i'm just saying that i really felt that my dad was trying to tell, through this dream, me that he was ok.
who knows, maybe it wasn't him, and it was my own subconscious trying to relieve me of the guilt i felt about what happened to him.
to be honest, one possibility is only slightly less extraordinary to me than the other.

question 3: when was your most embarrassing fart, and who was around to 'enjoy' it?

i honestly have never had an embarrassing fart. i guess you could say i have my bodily emissions on lockdown.
but i'm sure one day it'll 'get away from me,' so to speak.
and when it does, you'll be the first to know.

question 4: have you ever watched porn with your sigificant other? was it hot, or weird?

there's definitely been porn around...
for instance, i really like the show cathouse, on hbo. i think it's really funny.
but i don't think we've ever, you know, 'used' porn together.
so i guess i would have to say that it's neither hot, nor weird.
it just is what it is.
(and, to me, it's mostly silly)

question 5: complete the follwing sentence: in my refrigerator/kitchen/pantry, you can always find:

me looking for something to eat.

specifically: vodka and whole grain eggo waffles with blueberries.

so, there.
we're done here.

i'm going back to my piles of pictures now.

clarification

a friend of mine let me know that she didn't think the picture of john and i (posted here) does john justice. she thinks the internet will now think that my boyfriend is shaggy and goofy looking.* which, he is. but in a good way. anyway, just to clarify that he's not TOTALLY shaggy and goofy looking, here are a few more pictures:





see?

definitely not totally shaggy and goofy looking.**
although, i suppose he won't be happy that i posted that second picture, because he thinkgs it's pretty goofy himself.
i guess it's a good thing that he hardly ever reads my blog.

anyway, i love that picture, so too bad for him.

*she did say that my hair looked awesome, though.
**yes, i do pick out all his clothes. that's why they're so cute. obviously.

favorite pictures, episode two.

well, just another girl said that i should keep the photos coming.
so if this blog temporarily explodes into a narcissistic picture posting frenzy, you can go ahead and blame her.

clearly, it has nothing to do with me at all.

anyway, here's another one:



this picture was taken just after my sister and i arrived in maui. obviously, it was MANY, MANY years ago--if i had to guess, i'd say twenty years.

anyway, we were standing either on or very close to the beach, and there were humpback whales jumping out of the water about every fifteen seconds. it was really incredible. it was on this trip that my grandma got her nickname: my grandpa coerced b.j. into calling my grandma 'mamu the whale' when we were playing in the pool. obviously, my grandma wasn't happy. but eventually she came around, probably because we dropped the 'the whale' part, and just called her mamu.

there are a million reasons why i love this picture, like the way i'm looking at my grandpa, while my sister watches me for clues on what she's supposed to be doing. but, as with the first 'favorite picture' post, the real reasons that i love this don't really have anything to do with the picture itself.
i just love remembering this vacation.
i love that my grandparents had my father bring my sister and i to visit them in maui for two weeks, even though my sister isn't biologically part of their family. they didn't have to do that. i mean, look how young she is here--she never would have remembered that i got to go to hawaii and she didn't. but they always considered her part of their family, right from the beginning.

in fact, when my family (the family i lived with, b.j., me, our mom, and her dad) would go on vacation, we mostly ended up going to florida and staying with my father's parents. they always introduced my step-dad as their 'son.'

it's funny, i remember when i was in third grade my school started a weekly program for children from divorced families. they would encourage us to draw pictures and talk about our feelings. the other kids cried a lot, and the lady in charge kept telling my mom that i needed real help because i was 'repressing my feelings.' the truth was, i just didn't have any bad feeling s about it.
today, i know that is because the grown-ups around me made a very conscious decision to do everything they could to keep my family life as happy and 'normal' as possible.
sometimes when my family would go to florida to visit my grandparents, my father would be there, too, and we would all be staying in the same house. as a child, this did not seem strange to me.
as i grew up, and began to know my parents as adult people, outside of their assigned parent roles, i began to see that they really didn't like each other. they had major issues with each other, but i never would have known had i not specifically asked them. not only did they refrain from speaking poorly of each other in front of me, they managed to be around each other A LOT, even though i'm sure they would have preferred not to.

could i be any more blessed?

anyway, back to the picture.
i love it because it represents how loving my entire family is.
it's really that simple.

my favorite pictures, episode one.

john just taught me how to use my new scanner. which isn't really my new scanner because i've pirated it from my sister, but all that really means is that i must scan as many pictures as i can, as quickly as i can, before she decides to take it back.

you guys are soooo lucky.

(ha!)

anyway, in the process of my scanning i'm sure i'm going to stumble across 2 or 3 or 637 pictures that i want to share with you, so without further ado, i now present one of my favorite pictures:





i absolutely adore this photo, even though john will tell you it's a piece of crap. he's all about something called 'pixelation' and flaws. and other things that i don't really understand.
but, me? i remember this moment.
we had just screened john's first 'real' movie in ann arbor, and it was awesome.
you can see it here.

(and make sure you turn the sound up, because i think one of the things john is best at is sound editing. i mean, admittedly, i know jack shit. but i still think he rules.)

we'd been dating for aout two years by then, so of course i knew that he was a 'film maker.'
but to be honest, all it meant before that night was that he had a good excuse to not hang out with me. i had no idea how truly talented he was. i mean, i was around to help during filming and stuff like that, but i had no idea what the end product would look like.

i don't know who took this picture, but i know that i was whispering in john's ear about how completely fabulous i thought he was, and i was reminding him to take in the moment and remember the happiness that he felt that night.
this photo is just so powerful to me, because without it i might not have that moment burned so vividly into my head.* because, you know, we were also a little drunk that night--celebration, and all.

in fact, i think i dropped john's brand new digital camera on the floor about two and a half minutes after this picture was taken. it never worked again.
but i like to think that wasn't the most memorable thing that happened that evening.

i also enjoy my hair in this picture, but i suppose that's irrelevent.

it was an ass hat sort of day

saturday night at the bar was the sort of night that makes you want to stab someone in the eyeball.

it started with the kid in the yellow shirt, who stared at me impatiently as i took care of a couple that had walked up to the bar just before him. when the couple was all set, i turned my attention to the (very young looking) kid, and asked him how he was doing. it went like this:

me: how're you doing tonight?

him: i want a miller lite.

me, inwardly: that good, huh? oh, and i'm fine. THANKS FOR ASKING.

me, audibly: ok, i just need to see your ID, hun.

him: (motioning toward the couple, and sneering) you didn't check their IDs!

me: yes, i did.

him: well i didn't see you.

me: ok, you're cut off.

****
i'm sure he probably said something we would have found humorous after that, but i don't know because i walked away.
i mean, first you're going to call me out on my job performance, and then you're going to admit that you can't remember seeing something that happened right in front of your nose less than two minutes before?

****

next came the guy who wanted me to f@#* him up the a$#.

no, i'm not kidding.

i was just behind the bar, minding my own business, when a very attractive man with a mullet and a brightly colored bud light t-shirt from the 80's walked up.

him: (sleazily) what's your name?

me: (hands on hips, of course) what's YOUR name?

him: my name doesn't matter.

me: well, my name doesn't matter, either.

him: your name DOES matter, because i'll need to know it when i yell for another beer.

me, inwardly: i love my job.

he then extends his hand across the bar, and says his name. i oblige, tell him my name and reach to shake his hand. unfortunately, the hand he has offered is what my sister and i like to call 'the dead fish hand.' you know, he didn't do anything with it. it was just hanging there. it was not a handshake.
men do this to women a lot, and i find it infuriating. now, i know a number of men who think it's inappropriate to shake a woman's hand the same way you shake a man's hand, to which i say WAKE UP AND SMELL THE NEW MILLENIUM. but, even they are better than this guy. when these guys reach to shake your hand, they actually take your hand and turn it a little, sometimes placing their other hand on top of yours as you exchange whatever social niceity the situation calls for. the point is, SOMETHING HAPPENS. sure, they don't really shake your hand, but they don't reach for a handshake and DO NOTHING. which is exactly what this guy did. i hate that crap. can you tell? but, whatever. end of handshake, back to the story.

me: so, what can i get for you?

him: i'll take a labatt. how much will that be?

me: $3.75

him: you've got to be kidding me!

me: um, no. sorry. do you still want it.

him: well, i don't know where else to go, so i'll take it.

it should be noted here that there are a million and two bars around. although i don't think any of them have cheaper beer.

i turn around to pour his beer, and he turns to the random guy seated next to him at the bar.

him (to the random guy he doesn't even know): she might as well bend me over and fuck me up the ass for $3.75.

me: sir! i can still hear you!

him: don't worry honey, i wasn't talking to you.

me, handing him his beer: $3.75, please.

this statement was accompanied by what i imagine was a VERY, VERY bitchy glare of hatefulness and wrath.

he went away for a while then, but about a half an hour later i saw him trying to get my attention at the far end of my bar.

him: i'll take another labatt.

me: are you going to swear at me again?

him: what?

me, louder: are you going to swear at me again?

him: i never swore at you!

me: you said that i might as well fuck you up the ass, because you thought your beer was too expensive.

him: i would never say something like that!

me: sir, you just said it 30 minutes ago.

him: no i didn't.

me: you're cut off.

****

don't you wish you had my job?

the one about the deflowering

Question One: Where were you when you lost your virginity?

(p.s. go here or here or here, if you have no idea what's going on.)

i was in my best friend's brother's bed. but my best friend's brother wasn't there, because he was away at college. my best friend's parents were out of town so she was staying at my house for the week, but we told my mom that we were going to denny's (what is it with high school and going to denny's? is it because it's the only place you can afford to eat?) and instead we went to her house to get our groove on.
wait, did i just make it sound like we were getting our groove on with each other?
because, no.
different guys, different rooms.
(same pathetically short time frame)

i was seventeen, for the record. it was about nine days after my birthday. i remember this because i had decided, at the time, that i wanted to 'lose it' while i was still sixteen. and i tried, damnit. we just couldn't figure it out. isn't that crazy? i mean, it's like the simplest thing in the entire world, and it seriously took us more than three tries to actually 'do the deed.' anyway, i just wanted to let you know that i was seventeen, so i could make myself seem a little more dignified. not like the kids these days--they start 'doing it' at fifteen! and often times it's earlier than that! sluts.

(i'm totally joking. seventeen is also too early, or at least it was for me.*)

anyway, we got home on time that night and no one was the wiser. although, for some bizarre reason my mother started taking pictures of us before we went to bed. i think she was trying to finish a roll of film, and so now i have pictures to memorialize the evening.
maybe i'll find them and scan them later. or maybe not.

so, so far it's just another coming-of-age story, right?
well, this is me we're talking about. so, you must know that the whole thing is about to fall apart.

the next day at school, OF COURSE i had to write notes to one or two of my friends, letting them in on the news. perhaps this was a sign of things to come: now i tell complete strangers on the internet intimate details about my life, then i didn't even consider keeping the 'momentous event' a secret.

i did, however, hope to keep it a secret from my parents.

and i may have been successful, were i not the hugest idiot in the world.

see, i came home from school that day, changed into my work clothes (i worked at a cookie store in the mall. lamest thing ever.), and went off to work.
the problem is this: i am a very lazy and sloppy person, which explains why i changed in my parent's closet and left the clothes i wore to school in a pile on the floor WITH A NOTE I HAD WRITTEN TO SOMEONE, TALKING VERY SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HOW I HAD SEX THE NIGHT BEFORE, FOLDED UP IN THE POCKET.
oh, and i forgot to mention that my mother is, and always has been, a very nosey person. which explains why she searched my pockets AND FOUND THE NOTE.
imagine the total horror that i felt when i returned from work later that evening, boyfriend in tow, and walked in the front door to see my mother holding 'the note.'
i can't remember exactly what happened immediately after that.
i know my mother sat me down and gave me a talk of some sort, which involved the high recommendation of masturbation (like, i decided to have sex because i didn't know that masturbation existed? i don't know), but i seem to have blocked most of it out.
what i do know is that my mother must have taken a deep breath after reading the note and finding out that her baby girl was up to no good, and decided not to totally freak out.
i think parents have to do that sometimes.
you know, they can be very upset or disappointed or worried, but if they can, they have to try to keep the lines of communication open. by not freaking out--not getting mad, not screaming--my mother succeeded in that.
and, really?
she always has.

***we've had fights, i'm not saying we haven't. in fact, we fight a lot.
to this day.
with screaming and crying and the whole nine.
but i can honestly say that there has never been a single moment in my life that i have doubted how much my mother loves me. i have never done anything where i thought, if she knew, she wouldn't like me anymore.
and while i know that's as it should be, i also know there are a lot of people who grow up without that.
i know that i am a very lucky girl.***

but, anyway, this story is not over.
we haven't even touched true embarrassment yet.

as soon as my mom was done lecturing me 'because she just loves me so much and wants me to be happy and make good decisions,' i made the very piss-poor decision to go to a party which we weren't supposed to be having that night (a friday) at my best friend's house.
and, yes, we said we were going to denny's again. apparently we weren't very creative.

so i was at the party for a little while, and of course we decided to 'do it' again.
this time, we were not successful.
why?
because while my mother had tried to keep her cool and let me leave the house and not ground me, after about an hour her mom instincts got the best of her and she drove over to my best friend's house because she was sure that we were there, and not at denny's. and she was right, because moms are ALWAYS right. at least mine is.
seriously, it is frightening.

anyway, i was getting ready to get my groove on (although, i should point out that at this early point in my 'doing it' career, there was really no 'groove' to it) when all of the sudden one of the other kids at the party knocked on the door frantically and told us that my mother was at the front door.
i said, well, what did you tell her?
and he said that he didn't tell her anything, he just closed the door in her face and locked it.
so, yeah.
obviously, that was not going to work.

i totally got dragged home by my earlobe that night.
i will never forget how when my boyfriend heard that my mother was downstairs, he jumped up and ran out of the room, down the hall, and locked himself in the bathroom. but he didn't take his clothes with him.

lucky for him, my mother wasn't interested in coming inside.
she was just there to reclaim her daughter.

still, after all that, the most embarrassing thing was this:

that sunday all my relatives came over for dinner, because it was mother's day.
(i know, i know. not a great present for my mother)

i am the oldest grandchild,** so all of the 'kids' were playing outside, but i was sitting at the dining room table chatting with the grownups when one of my uncles began to tell an off-color joke about some kind of sexual thing--im not exactly sure because he never got to the punchline.
as soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped and said: i'm sorry, i forgot there were young ears in the room.
to which my dad replied: oh, no. go ahead and tell your joke. tiffany knows ALL ABOUT SEX, DON'T YOU TIFFANY?

so, yeah.
that was probably the most embarrassing thing that had EVER happened to me at that point.

*and i really do plan on writing a post about why that was, outlining some of the things that i think girls should consider before they 'give it up.' and it has nothing to do with the possibility of going to hell because you didn't wait for marriage, or the possibility that the kids at school will call you a slut; rather, it is about recognizing the control that you give someone over your happiness when you participate in this particular activity. THAT is why i was too young, because i didn't know myself well enough yet, because i was still too defined by other people, and because i didn't know how to create my own happiness at that age. that is a dangerous place to be, and in that position, one should be more cautious with one's feelings. i was not. and i regretted it. big time.
but i'm totally bored with this post, so we'll have to discuss the details of this at a later time.

**i should say, i *was* the oldest grandchild at that time. i am now the second oldest. confused?

****edited to add: for anyone who hasn't been around long enough to see her in the comments, yes, my mother does read this blog. but that's ok because there is nothing i could ever say that my mother doesn't already know, because she knows everything. i think she might be a witch. but, for the record, a mostly good witch.****

another letter

dear grey's anatomy,

fuck off.
no, really.
fuck right off.

unsincerely,
tiffany

p.s.
you have exactly nineteen minutes to make me feel better.
best get down to business.

edited to add: fine. i'll take it. but i'm still pissed at you, so you might want to send me some chocolates or something. i'm just saying.

interlude no.2 (in C sharp minor)

***this interruption in your normally scheduled post about losing my virginity (which i'm sure you are all dying to read about) is brought to you by the letter 'W.' which stands for weepy, which is what i have been all damn day.***

this morning i had the view on in the background while i did the morning stalking of all my favorite internet places. rosie and elizabeth were interviewing this adorable 5-year-old boy, who had saved his mother's life. they were at the park when she collapsed, and he called 911 and blah blah whatever.
the point is, it was not a sad story.
but for some reason, i was crying.

i should have taken that as a major clue.
when i clicked through the guide on my t.v. and saw that spike lee's documentary when the levees broke: a requiem in four acts was playing on hbo, i should have decided to watch it some other time.

but i didn't listen to myself.

****
as i watched the documentary, i saw some footage of a young boy in a red shirt. he was about 4-years-old, and he was crying in a crowd of people outside the new orlean's convention center.
i remember seeing this boy when i watched the news as the aftermath of hurricane katrina actually unfolded. his image has always stayed with me because i've never seen a face that displayed as thorough of a despair and anguish and horror as his little face did that day.
i don't know what happened to that boy, but here he was--trembling lips and streaming tears and snotty nose on my television screen, again.

i remember sitting on my couch for three days straight, after the hurricane hit.

i remember the horror of the first moment that i realized that the white-capped waves i was seeing were rolling through neighborhood streets. i remember seeing houses flooded up to the rooftops--seeing a family waiting for rescue on the top of a roof, after they had broken through from inside the attic as the waters rose, and i remember wondering if the empty rooftops around them represented families who had evacuated, or families who weren't able to break through their rooftops.

i remember seeing an old lady, dead in her wheelchair, abandonded in the sweltering heat with a towel haphazardly placed over her head.

i remember being at work and hearing a man with no soul point to the looting taking place on the television as evidence that these people deserved what they got, that the world would be better off without them.

****
what i couldn't have known then was just how drastically our government and the other entities we believe will protect us if we need it were going to fail these people.

i didn't know that people who tried to walk out of town, across a highway bridge into a safer area, would be met by a barricade of men with shotguns and forced to turn back into the devastation.

i didn't know that people who had evacuated but left family members behind would get word from search and rescue teams that their houses had been searched and no bodies had been found. i didn't know how they would rejoice in the news that their mother-father-sister-brother had made it out, only to return to the city weeks or months later and find the body of a loved one themselves.

i didn't know about a man who came home from WWII and spent his last $10 to hold a contract for a house in the lower 9th ward, so that he could move his wife and his sons in to a place they could call their own. i didn't know the joy it brought him to be able to do such a thing. i didn't know the joy he felt when he finally paid the house off, after 35 years. he didn't know that when he was 85 a major hurricane would strike and detroy his home. but, when it did? he remained optimistic because he knew he's been paying his insurance on time to the same company for 50 years. he thought he was 'in good hands.' neither of us knew that they would screw him over--that they would refuse to offer him anything more than $600, claiming that they couldn't compensate him for water damage.
i'm not sure how they explained the two big trees that had fallen through his roof.

****
somewhere in the middle of this documentary, a man said a very important thing.
he said: "this is a signature moment, because we have the chance to see what's wrong with us."
he likened it to walking past a mirror, and catching yourself from an angle you don't like--one which maybe you weren't aware of, but which will always be in the back of your mind from that point on.

****
i remember sitting on my couch for three days straight, after the hurricane hit--sitting, staring, at the television.
i remember the moments when it became too much and i would get up and pace frantically around my house, circling and circling through the kitchen, into the living room, hands shaking, sitting down and then getting back up to pace some more, unable to keep my mind from reeling, unable to make sense of what was happening, unable to shake the feeling that this wasn't a disaster of nature, but a disaster of man--one that may not have been entirely avoidable, but which certainly could have turned out much better than it did.

i remember calling amber, who was freaking out, too (or, did she call me?) and how there were two or three moments when we said we should just get in the goddamn car and start driving down there to see what we could do.

but we didn't.

i didn't, because i was about to start my final semester of undergrad work and i didn't want to jeopardize that.
i didn't think it would be a good excuse, that i hopped in my car and headed into a disaster area, even though i didn't 'personally' know anyone there.
i didn't think people would understand.

and they wouldn't have understood.

because i'm sure that there are plenty of other people who had panic attacks in their living rooms while watching the news that week. but, in the end, most of us walked away from our t.v.'s when it got to be too much.
i remember very specifically the moment when, after three days, i had to force myself to leave the house because i simply could not sit there and obsess over it anymore.

and now i have my degree, which i haven't done jack-shit with, other than entertain myself on this blog.

and new orleans still hasn't recovered.
and the people who were there when katrina hit may never recover.
and i know i couldn't have changed that,
but i could have tried.

more people could have tried, and then maybe the survivors would have one less weight on their shoulders, because they wouldn't have to think that the rest of the country didn't value their lives.

if we knew that the government wasn't getting it done--and i think we did know that, at least after day 3--we should have done more than bitch about the inadequacy of their intelligence and their costly bureaucratic blunders.

but, we didn't.

****
i, for one, am looking in the mirror.

i wish i could hold it up in gw's face, or michael chertoff's face, or the face of the people who are still doing everything they can to keep the 9th ward a mess; to discourage the landowners from that devastated community from returning so they can sell the land and create a wealthy, white community.

but i guess i'll have to start with me, with this meager little blog post, by asking you to consider the following quote from a homeowner in the devastated lower 9th ward, who feels that some politicians and business people are trying to swindle him and his neighbors by creating a bureaucratic nightmare for these people as they try to reclaim and rebuild their lives.
he worries:
"we will end up a small city, primarily white and primarily well-to-do, and i think the rest of the country is ok with that."

i am not ok with that.

are you?

joining the fun

i've recently started reading a new blog (well, it's new to me. not new in it's existence, or whatever) called sarah and the goon squad. my first clue that this blog would be awesome and enjoyable was that it came highly recommended by amalah, the supreme ruler of all things funny and interesting.

oh...
you thought i held that title?
no. she does. definitely.

anyway, my second clue that this blog would be awesome and enjoyable was that--as amalah pointed out--anyone who refers to her own children as 'the goon squad' can be considered both awesome and enjoyable, sight unseen.

so, i wandered over and quickly found that my suspicions were correct.

sarah = awesome and enjoyable.

in the first post i read at her blog, she was asking people's opinions on some books she was thinking of reading, and also asking for other reading recommendations.
my heart got a little a-twitter, i must admit.
but!
then i suggested a few of my favorite books, and she emailed me back to tell me that she had already read them, and that she loved them, too.
so, now i love her.
the end.

anyway, a few days ago sarah posted a variation on the '5 weird things' meme, which she was tagged with after one of her bloggy friends invited her readers to ask her embarrassing and/or funny and/or strange questions in her comments section. sarah participated by asking her friend where she lost her virginity, but then got screwed (no pun intended) when her friend answered the questions and then tagged all the contributors. and then sarah answered the questions on her blog, and invited the rest of the internet to play and blah blah blah, this is the longest explanation ever--definitely one which would cause most people to doubt that i have a degree in english.

back to the meme!
(mememememememememememememe)

the thing is, at first i thought that i couldn't answer these questions because there are certain people who read my blog who might get a little embarrassed or judge-y, reading about things like me losing my virginity.
but then i thought, you know what? i'm not embarrassed by it. so, why self-edit? i feel like sometimes we learn the most valuable things about ourselves (and others) when we allow ourselves to exist outside of the rules for being that we imagine other people want us to follow. and so now here i am to answer the bizarre questions, which i found here, even though they originated here.

~this is the part where you move on if you are feeling embarrassed or judge-y. just go read another blog for a while. it's ok, you can come back later. and of course, you're more than welcome to stay and read on. just consider yourself warned.~


******
(these particular asterisks indicate the passing of time. as in, i wrote the above stuff earlier. but now i am back, and it is a different day. just so you know.)

so, i started trying to answer the first question in this meme that we've been talking about, and seriously it is the longest thing ever.
so i've now decided that each question is going to be it's own post.

if you want to play--and i really think you should--the questions are as follows:

1.) where did you lose your virginity?
2.) have you ever had an out of body experience? describe in detail.
3.) when was your most embarrassing fart, and who was around to enjoy it?
4.) have you ever watched porn with your significant other? was it hot, or weird?
5.) complete the follwing sentence: in my refrigerator/kitchen/pantry, you can always find:

if you play, you can choose to go into as little or as much detail as you want.
obviously, i am getting pretty deep.
but, you know, you can totally do one word answers if you want.

now get cracking, people! i promise i'll be back relatively shortly with my first answer.

you lucky bastards.

oh. no. he. di. dint.

on friday night my friend was bartending, and she ordered herself some mini-burgers for dinner.

it was about 10pm.

one of our 'regulars,' who had been at our bar SINCE 2PM, walked up and asked:
oh, are these for me?

my friend explained that no, the mini-burgers were not for him, as he had not ordered any mini-burgers.
mini-burgers seldom show up uninvited, you know.

my friend turned away to pour a beer for another customer, and when she came back to her dinner she saw that 'the regular' was eating one of her mini-burgers.
and apparently it was his second one, because there was a whole mini-burger already missing.

my friend had no idea what to do or say.
in the end, 'the regular' ate three of the four mini-burgers before his friend realized that he was eating someone else's food.

i don't think that i could ever find the words to tell you exactly how badly i wish i could have been there when this happened.
i have no idea what i would have said, or done.
but i'm pretty sure it would have been good.

i also wasn't there the next morning when 'the regular' returned to our bar, still drunk, and still in the same clothes from the night before.
b.g. told him to go home and take a nap, but i guess instead he went to a bar down the street and drank until he got cut off there.
i WAS at work when he stumbled in after that, and walked right behind my bar holding his cell phone at arm's length, demanding that i charge his phone for him.

not asking, mind you.
demanding.

i asked him if he expected me to charge his phone with my ass, as i saw no phone charging mechanism in sight, and then he accused me of stealing it.*


and that was pretty much the time that i decided i didn't want to speak to him EVER AGAIN.

or, wait. maybe it was last weekend, or even the weekend before that, since he is pretty much always this annoying.

*his charger, not my ass.

unsaid

there's one or two people in my past who could benefit from this wisdom:





it's not an easy lesson, that's true. but when we find ourselves consistently unhappy, many times the only way to happiness is through INNER change.

wouldn't it be nice if everyone could realize that, instead of running around trying to pin all their unhappinesses on someone else all the time?

p.s.
thanks to csl for the link. what a fun sight!

two hundredy

so, here we are.
this is my 200th blog post.

it all started back in september of 2004, when i had to start a blog to post assignments for a class i was taking called writing, style, and technology.
i completed the assignments,* and promptly forgot that i had created a blog at all.
and justifiably so, i think. i mean, a huge shit-storm was basically shitting all over my life at the time.

anyway.
then i had a crazy dream in march of 2005, and i blogged about that.

and then i went away again.

in september of 2005, i really started blogging--sparingly at first, and then with more and more frequency. (not surprsingly, the frequency increased as readers increased.)

the first time someone i didn't know in 'real life' left me a comment, i nearly freaked out.
i had just written this post, about waiting on the very most bitchiest bitch-monster of all time. i'm not one of those bloggers who composes in word and then copy and pastes into blogger. because that requires thinking, and also planning. neither of which do i enjoy. see, my entries are all very haphazard. (but you probably knew that already). it's like, when something amusing or crazy or irritating happens, i'll make a mental note that i should blog about it later--but i never 'draft' or plan my posts or anything. i just sit down, tell the story, and hit post.
this is often times problematic, because i hit post and re-read what i wrote and there are often VERY VERY VERY MANY MISTAKES. i just don't catch them until i see the post from a different angle, so to speak.
the point is, the first time someone i didn't know left me a comment, it was pete, and he read the post at the same time that i was re-reading it for mistakes, and therefore his first impression of me was surely that i could not spell or type worth shit.
i was very embarrassed, as you can see in the comments section of that post.
but, not so embarrassed, because i still blog the exact same way.
and pete is still around, so i guess it all worked out.

anyway, for your time-wasting enjoyment, i now present a list of blogging milestones i have passed on my way to this, my two hundredy-eth post:

thing one: where, after months and months of regular blogging, i finally learn how to make links and play with my template.

thing two: where i talk about something other than stupid little stories of my everyday life for the first time

thing three: my one humdredy-eth post, which i had no idea was my one hundredy-eth post when i wrote it. in fact, when i realized that i was at post #200, i thought it would be fun to link to #100, because i thought for sure it would be a story of something ridiculous i did at the bar, or a story of a bar guest who pissed me off,** or a post about nose spray or something. instead, it was my 9/11 post. so i guess that's kind of cool.

cripes, i'm really bored with this list.

so, i'll just say thanks to everyone who reads--especially those of you who comment!
i love the internet, and the internet = you guys.
i love writing my blog, and i love reading your blogs.
seriously. at the risk of totally geeking out here, i really feel like this whole blogging business enriches my life in a really important way.

i was sort of hoping that, as a two hundredy-eth post present, you might tell me what your favorite post is in the comments section. my blog has been sort of different lately--less ridiculous stories of everyday life, and more, i don't know, quasi-political stuff. so i'm interested to see what kind of posts you guys like best.
and if you need more persuasion, let me point out that only one of you left a valentine in my valentine mailbox.
so you totally owe me.
(whim, you are exempt, because you sent me a separate valentine)

*one of the other assignments was to build a web-page from scratch. you know, like actual html in a blank word-pad thing. it sucked so bad, i think i've blocked most of it out. as you have witnessed here, i can still make links. but that's about it.
anyway, if you are desperately in need of a good laugh, my extremely sad and pathetic little webpage can be seen here. although, i have to admit that there's still a tiny part of me that's proud that it consists of multiple working pages. of course, i have absolutely no clue how i managed to do that.

**it was a close call, though. this was the 99th post.

in which i require some help

dear everyone,

i was just checking my sitemeter thing-thing (which only works 40% of the time and i have no idea why) when i saw that a few minutes ago someone came to my blog from here.

i have no idea what that is, but it seems to be talking about my blog.
does anyone know what this is?
if so, could you please explain it to me?

while i'm at it, i should probably ask someone to tell me what an rss feed is, too, because i also have no idea what that might be, but i keep seeing it around accompanied by various linky-button type things, and so i guess it might be important. or something.

yes, i know how to turn on my computer. why do you ask?

thanks for you help,
tiffany

i heart zoot, because zoot hearts the internet

zoot hearts the internet, which is good, because when i read her i often find fun internet related things.

first it was the harry potter and the deathly hallows countdown thinger on display over in my sidebar, which i love with my whole heart. seriously. sometimes i just stare at it. but don't tell anyone.

and now, there's this:


Get your own valentinr

apparently this is some sort of valentine mailbox.
you sign up for it, and then people can send you valentines which you won't be able to see until valentine's day. which is, like the day after tomorrow. which is good, because if you're like me then waiting for things IS NOT GOOD AT ALL.

but anyway.
you know what is good?

getting valentines.

so send me one already!
and while you're at it, sign up so i can come over and send you one, too.
spread the love, people!

wheeeee!

check it out

i can't wait until the sunday paper shows up later today, because the first letter on display is this one.

which i wrote.

now, i don't know if it's special if the editor-type-people wait to print your letter until sunday, and then put it first.
so you'll have to excuse me while i pretend that IT MEANS I RULE, and also while i allow myself to feel like I AM THE SHIT for a moment or two,

*
*
*

ok, i'm done.
to be honest, i'd started to think that they weren't going to publish my letter at all.
i mean, the first letter in friday's letter section thing was this one, which is not only about the same dispute, but also calls out the same city council member who i poke fun at in my letter.

i was a little concerned that i had already told everyone how excited i was, and the chances of my letter being published were looking pretty dismal.
i mean, how many letters ripping on the same city council lady are really necessary?

apparently, the answer is at least two.

so, hooray for me.
i wrote a letter, and it's in the paper today.

i know this won't seem like a big deal to everyone, but i'm going to go ahead and let myself be happy today.

p.s.
the city council meeting to hear our case is scheduled for 2/20, so i'll have some further updates for you then. i'd like to say that i would be ready to give them an earful, but i abhor speaking in front of people. so, that won't be happening.
anyway, it could really get interesting after the meeting: either they'll turn us down and i'll have quite a bit of bitching to do, or they'll approve us and we'll have 3 weeks to put an event together that we should have been working on for four months.
seriously, it's soooo nice for the council to make some time for us.

better then a two year old.

~a few days ago, miss zoot shared a story about how she hates scary movies. i also hate scary movies, and i was going to leave a comment about one of my worse scary movie experiences, but i decided she probably wouldn't want a twelve page comment, so i decided to come back here and write my own post.~

ahem.

i hate scary movies. and when i say hate, what i mean is HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE.

john says i am like a two year old girl with tinkle in her diapers when it comes to watching scary movies, to which i say oh hell no, two year old girls have NOTHING on me. i mean, two year olds can't possibly comprehend the scariness of a scary movie. so, while they might be a little frightened if they see a monster or something, there is NO WAY that they are as scared as i am.

now, i don't want to go into detail about all the scary movie experiences i've been forced to suffer through in my life. like the time some of my friends decided to watch a freddy krueger movie at a sleepover when i was in 5th grade. i layed awake in my sleeping bag all night long, positive that i would not live through the night. i still have the occasional freddy krueger nightmare. seriously.
there was also the last unicorn, which traumatized the nights of my childhood in horrible, horrible ways.
i was just watching the trailer on youtube (through the tiny gaps between my fingers, which were clinched over my eyes) and john nearly peed his pants laughing at me for being scared OF A CARTOON MOVIE ABOUT A UNICORN.
so you can imagine how funny he thought it was when i told him that when i was little, i was afraid to get out of my bed to go to the bathroom at night because i thought that when you flushed the toilet, you had to run back to your bedroom as fast as you could and get completely covered by your blankets before the sound of the toilet flushing stopped--otherwise, the red bull could come out of the furnace in the basement and get you.

no, i am not kidding.

and anyway, none of that even comes close to the horror that this movie has brought into my life:



i actually rented this movie with some friends. i have no idea what on earth possessed me to do such a thing, but i will regret it for the rest of my entire life.
of all the messed up and embarrassing and hurtful things i've done in my life, i'm 97% sure that, if given the chance to go back and undo one thing, i would erase this movie from my memory. it seriously scares me that much.

the night that we watched it, we were sitting on a big sectional couch in a re-done basement.
as the movie progressed, all three of us became more and more frightened.
you could see us gradually getting more and more tense--pulling our feet up off the floor, tucking ourselves further and further underneath our blankets.
by the time the movie was 2/3 of the way over, all of us were done--we did not want to watch the movie anymore, but we were all too scared to get up and turn it off. (the batteries in the remote were dead)
so, like a bunch of jackasses, we sat there and watched until the end.

i swear, i have never been the same since--i mean, i nearly died once, because of this movie!
see, john used to live out in the middle of nowhere. i had to drive exactly 5 miles down a dirt road with nothing around everytime i went to go see him. it ALWAYS freaked me out to do this at night, so much so that i would always call when i was on my way, so that he could watch for me and come outside when i got there. if he wasn't outside, i would wait in my car because i was too scared to get out and walk across the huge lawn-ish area into the house.
one night, when i was on my way there, some kind of big bat or bird ran straight into the middle of my windsheild, wings out-stretched, just like what happens to richard gere and debra messing at the beginning of the movie.

i think i had a mild-stroke.
and then i drove 70 miles an hour the rest of the way DOWN A DIRT ROAD, unable to really see because i was crying so hard.

i have two words for you:
not. safe.

anyway, i wish i was kidding, but i seriously do not like scary movies.

i have gotten a little better,
hell--i now live in the basement, 6 feet away from the furnace where the red bull lives, and i swear i was only terrified for the first week. i'm totally fine now.

except, when i was finding the trailer for 'the mothman,' i did a youtube search and then i turned around and made john watch to find the right one. and when he turned the light off, i screamed (a little) TURN THE LIGHT BACK ON!!!!
because, you know, i can't write about scary things like freddy krueger and the last unicorn and the mothman in the dark.


these days, i'm still afraid of things, but i laugh at myself more than find myself traumatized by it.
on tuesday, i was laying in bed watching the beginning of the goonies, while john worked on the computer. he came to bed, and we talked about how much we like that movie. then we started to fall asleep, when i lifted my head up and said babe, you've got to turn the t.v. off. i can't go to sleep with this movie on, because it has scary stuff. and also skeletons.
he thought that was pretty funny, but he turned off the television anyway,
we layed there and laughed for a minute, and i said babe, turn the light on and hand me a pen, so i can remember to put that on my blog later.

he said, i can't turn on the light, because it's going to be too bright and it'll hurt my eyes.

to which i argued, no, it won't, because i've got my eyes covered.

and then we were laughing about something else entirely.

bitchier.

apparently, there are people in the world who get irritated even more easily than i do.

and you can find them right here, bitching about a snickers ad aired during the superbowl, which they considered offensive and discriminatory toward gay people.

here's the commercial, in case you missed it:



and you might want to go ahead and watch it, because if you didn't see it sunday, you never will.
snickers has decided to pull the ad campaign--throwing millions of dollars straight into the garbage--in order to stop the bitchery.

you should really go read that article--it is well written, and the author does make some good points. well, kind of.

the thing is, i find the whole thing a little...ridiculous.

don't get me wrong.
i'm not a supporter of hate-language or gay-bashing or any other such nonsense.
in fact, i've cut people off at my bar more than once just because i heard them say the word 'fag.'

but, did we really have to toss this commercial in the trash can?

was it really that offensive?

i guess it's a tricky question. this thing we call 'good taste' exists precariously atop a very thin and fluid line. walking the line is a tightrope act--one that only gets trickier when we're dealing with hot-button issues like discrimination and hate-speak.

but, when i saw the commercial?
i felt that they were making fun of the homo-phobia of the men--not making fun of being gay, or assserting that being gay is 'gross.' i mean, the men look ridiculous! they look like morons. (they also look like they could use a bath. and maybe a visit with these guys.)

it ocurred to me later, after hearing about the controversy, that maybe most people wouldn't have interpretted the commercial the same way that i did. i mean, i'm not homo-phobic. in fact, i find homo-phobia ridiculous, and so i found the humor in the men's reaction and saw the commercial that way. i suppose if you are one of the millions of people out there who does think being gay is 'disgusting,' then it would be a totally different commercial to you.

it reminds me of the problem with sasha baron cohen, who takes on the persona of characters like ali g and borat, and uses humor to illuminate some of the darker tendencies of society, disguising himself in comedy to take our attention away from the mirror he's holding up right in front of our faces.

take the following clip, from cohen's show on hbo:



now, our higher sensibilities would initially be offended by the premise here--i mean, we're not *supposed* to laugh at things like anti-semitism, right?

the thing is, cohen is jewish himself, and this particular clip might be the best example of the aim of his comedy: to show how quickly you can get people to engage in hateful behavior. with ali g, it was to uncover the disdain and lack of respect that 'adults' (mainly those in high positions--governmental officials, members of nasa, media bigwigs, etc) hold toward the youth of the world. with borat, he uses the disguise of an ethnicity most of us would assume to be exactly as he plays it--a little backwards, a little sexist, you know the drill--to get 'us' to engage in the very behavior we find so dreadful when displayed in the form of 'the other.'

the clip above is the perfect example: borat shows up in a country bar, and after 20 seconds he has an enire bar full of people singing 'throw the jew down the well so my country can be free.'

it's ugly, but the point is made. we laugh, but we also get a twinge of disgust. it's funny, but it's also really sad.

personally, i think cohen is a genius.
but, i understand the problem that some people have with him: what about the people who don't get the joke?
what about the people who watch borat talking about his fat wife fulling the plow through the field, about how he bought her from her father for 3 gallons of incesticide, and the never ending pile of other sexist things he says, and then laugh because they think it's funny on the surface--without getting the deeper meaning.

in that sense, i can see why people might have a problem with the snickers superbowl commercial. the millions of men out there who watched and made a face like this one



are a problem. they are the types who don't get the joke.

but should snickers have to trash the commercial for them?

i mean, as sad as it is, straight men are allowed to be disgusted by watching 2 men kiss. i mean, i'm disgusted if i see my parents making out, but that doesn't mean that i think being hetero-sexual is wrong.


it seems to me that this commercial is not the breeder of negativity that these people thought it was.

but, i guess just like there will always be people who don't get the joke, there will always be people who can't take the joke.

putting the proverbial smack down

on saturday, this article appeared in the ann arbor news, detailing the struggle a certain bar (which i normally try to keep nameless, so go ahead and forget about it right after you read this) in ann arbor has been going through with the city, trying to get a permit for a tent party on st. patrick's day.

anyway, even a quick read of the article shows the silliness of the arguments against our tent party--but i have to tell you that a lot more really silly things have been said in the history of this whole shenannigan, and it's all getting pretty annoying.

basically, the city is trying to argue that we shouldn't be allowed to profit from closing a street and selling alcohol, even though the bar across the street from us does the exact same thing (on the exact same street!) every year for oktoberfest.
and, we're only talking about a side street here. every august, the busiest section of MAIN STREET is shut down when our city hosts a huge national plumber's convention, so that they can HOLD A POKER TOURNAMENT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET.

the point is, it seems pretty clear to me that they aren't really against closing the streets and letting people make money from selling alcohol (and gambling! which is not legal here!), just against our business in particular.

anyhow, reading THE COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS CONCERNS OF SOME OF THE CITY COUNCIL MEMBERS really pissed me off.

so i wrote a letter to the editor.
oh, yes.
i sure did.


and here it is, for your reading pleasure:


In an article appearing February 3rd chronicling the controversy over The Arena Sports Bar and their would-be St. Patrick's Day/ March Madness street event, City Council Member Joan Lowenstein explained her opposition to the event by pointing out that an inflatable beer bottle--which was on display near the bar's tent last year--would promote excessive drinking.
I don't know how familiar Lowenstein is with St. Patrick's Day, but I feel confident in pointing out that an inflatable beer bottle can hardly be considered responsible for the heavy drinking undertaken by people all over the globe every March 17th.
I think we would be hard-pressed to find a single individual who was innocently walking the streets last year, off to study or do some grocery shopping or what-have-you, who then instead decided to get hammered after seeing the inflatable beer bottle.
Much like people pass out candy on Halloween, people drink on St. Patrick's Day. Inflatable beer bottles have nothing to do with it.

Further arguments from those in opposition to The Arena's tent event cite the possible youth of the age group who would be in attendence. Can any one else smell the age discrimination? Because I think it reeks in here.
We could begin by asking if those standing behind this argument have ever even been to The Arena, where a glance down the bar almost always reveals a line-up of middle-aged faces.
But every point I could make pales in comparison to this:
The legal drinking age is 21.
The college age crowd imagined by The Arena's opposition has as much of a right to party as the 'older' OktoberFest crowd whom they allow to party in the street every year.
If the City Council feels that 21 year olds are too young to drink, perhaps they should spend some time trying to change that law, and less time trying to neuter our local businesses.

i even used capital letters.
aren't you proud of me?

anyway, maybe i'll give you an update on this situation as new events unfold.
or maybe i'll get bored of it and you'll never hear of it again.

sigh.

update: they are going to publish my letter! maybe this is dumb, but I'm really excited. I did have to edit it a bit for them--apparently they have to keep it under 250 words, and my letter was a little wordy. big surprise, huh? anyway, i'll link to it when it shows up in the online news. i'm guessing it will be tomorrow.

you probably don't want to see this.

i'm not kidding, this is your last chance to look away.






still here?





fine.




meet my right foot:



it's...a foot. nothing special, really--just 15 layers of pink toe-nail polish, because when it chips i just paint over it. and, really? that's on a good day. if it's not summer, they pretty much chip away into oblivion.
then there's my toe ring, which i got in islamorada a week after my 21st birthday. it hasn't been off my toe since. not even for 5 seconds. and i really hope it never falls off or breaks or anything, because i think i have a permaneant dent around my toe now.

not. sexy.

but anyway.
that's my right foot.
nothing special, just a normal happy old foot.


and then there's my left foot:



apparently this is what a foot will do, if you fall down the stairs and crunch it very badly.

it will also hurt a good bit.

so, this is my public service announcement:

don't fall down your stairs!

the end.

edited to add:
no, i was not drunk when i fell down the stairs. i was just a jackass. as usual.

wonders never cease

in light of yesterday's post, i feel it's worth mentioning that today someone visited here via an entirely new set of google search terms: 'my sister peeing.'

i guess i'm just a dirty, dirty girl.
i might as well embrace it.

anyhow, i'm off to the kitchen to get started on some tasty snacks for the super bowl party i'm going to this evening.

bring on the gluttony!

googlicious

so, we all know i'm not writing the great american novel here.

if i had to, i would probably say that this blog is made 90% of little stories about crazy people and things that i encounter in my day-to-day life, with a few deeper posts thrown in every once in a while.

it's not rocket science--i'm just a girl who thinks things would go a lot smoother if people would just bow down and do my bidding, already.

ahem. what?
no, i did not just say that.

anyway.

i've noticed a little trend here at 'if i were queen of the world.'
see, people don't often get here through any kind of a google search. i think most of my readers got here by clicking through from a commment i left somewhere else, or from a link to me on someone else's page.
i think it's only about once a week that someone ends up here through a google search. i guess if i were less lazy, i would try to figure out why that is, and how to make my blog a little more googlicious.

but, for now, i would simply like to ponder this fact:

9 times out of 10, if a google search leads someone here, the search was for either 'shit smearing' or 'poop smearing,' and the person is directly led to this entry, where--sadly--i do talk in some detail about that very thing.*

my feelings on this little phenomenon are mixed. on one hand, i'm glad that people are still sometimes finding my 'rules for acceptable bathroom behavior.' i mean, in the beginning--before i had more than two readers, before the memes, before the dreaded self-editing and everything else we take on when we begin to exist in any kind of public forum, the 'guide to acceptable bathroom behavior' post was really what this blog was meant to be about. it's not my best writing, but it does embody my original intent: tell a story of something in society (however trivial) that i don't like, and explain how it would be different if i were, in fact, queen of the world.
in the first five or six months that i started blogging regularly, i wrote a fair amount of posts which stuck to this format. for example, i had some advice for airline companies here and here, while here and here i offered some rules for proper restaurant and bar behavior. sometimes i needed to vent about a dumb t.v. show, and other times i offered advice to a fellow classmate who was extremely socially inept.
and, you know? i like all of those posts. (even though this one is my favorite)
still, on the other hand, there's a part of me that feels a little let down by the 'shit smearing' phenomenon.
i mean, with all of the crap i've said here, is this really the only google worthy phrase i've ever written?

oh well.

in the end, i guess it comes down to this:

i don't know who these people are, or why they are so interested in 'shit smearing,' but i hope once google leads them my way, they leave with the important lesson that one should never, under any circumstances, smear their poop on any surface, at any time, for any reason. and if that's the only thing i have to offer the world? well, i still think it's valuable.

*when i say '9 out of 10 times,' that is--of course--a rough estimate. because i am terrified of all things mathematical.

easing back into the blogosphere

so, yeah.
i should be writing about some nonsense or another already. I KNOW.

but...
i don't know.
i still feel a little blah.

so, for the sake of posting, i present the meme-thing i was tagged with weeks ago. (thanks, star!)

1. If you could build a house anywhere, where would it be? well, it depends. do i need to have a career, or am i so wealthy that i can build a house and then just chill out forever? because, were it not for the whole 'making something of one's self' thing, i would have moved to key west A LONG ASS time ago.

2. What's your favorite article of clothing? at the moment? my fleecy polar bear pajama pants and my uggs. but that's a decision based purely in comfort, not in hotness. obviously.

3. Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex? sigh. I DON'T KNOW! it changes every time. seriously. although, i suppose i have a pretty consistent 'thing' for shaggy hair. mmmmmmm.

4. What's the last CD that you bought? what is a c.d.? but really, i don't think i've bought a c.d. in five years or something. and no, it's not because i'm stealing all my music.

5. Where's your favorite place to be? watching our band at dirty harry's in key west. or, anywhere in key west. if not, at my computer or snuggling.

6. Where is your least favorite place to be? on an airplane. or, lying in bed awake all night when i have to work in the morning.

7. What's your favorite place to be massaged? the ouchy spot on my back. it's kind of between my spine and my left shoulder blade. it hurts ALL OF THE TIME, and i can often be seen rubbing up against corners and stuff, trying to get it to stop hurting. it never works, though.

8. Strong in mind or strong in body? i don't get it...are we talking about me, or are we talking about what i think is important? at any rate, a nice body is fun, but if you're dumb? well, you're dumb. and what can i do with that?

9. What time do you wake up in the morning? i go to bed in the morning.

10. What is your favorite kitchen appliance? blender? no...microwave. for sure.

11. What makes you really angry? far too many things.

12. If you could play any instrument, what would it be? I DO PLAY AN INSTRUMENT!

13. Favorite color? brown. and dark red.

14. Which do you prefer...sports car or SUV? mini fuel efficient SUVs, like mine.

15. Do you believe in an afterlife? i believe in the possibility of an afterlife.

16. Favorite children's book? the paper bag princess.

17. What is your favorite season? fall. especially with a pot of captain morgan's and apple cider simmering on the stove.

18. Your least favorite household chore? all. of. them. oh, except cooking. i like to cook. i just prefer if someone else cleans up the mess.

19. If you could have one super power, what would it be? hmmm. sounds complicated. how about--make peace? is that a super power?

20. If you have a tattoo, what is it? i don't have a tattoo. but i have seriously been considering getting a little pink crown tattoo'd on me somewhere. any suggestions?

21. Can you juggle? um, no. half of the time i can't even catch one thing that is being gently tossed directly to me.

22. The one person from your past that you wish you could go back and talk to? my dad, and my grandmas. obviously.

23. What's your favorite day? lately it's been friday nights, even though we haven't really been out in forever.

24. What's in the trunk of your car? i don't really have a trunk--but, the 'storage area' is full of books and shoes. my two favorite things!

25. Which do you prefer, sushi or hamburger? preferably neither. i don't eat seafood, so sushi is out. and, no--i don't want to try a california roll, either. i know it's not fish--technically. but, it looks like fish and it smells like fish. so, no. as for hamburger--i do eat meat, but calling it hamburger sounds gross. *a* hamburger? maybe. but thinking of a big trough of ground meat called hamburger? grody. and also, no thanks.

p.s.
i tag everyone reading this.
that's right, every last one of you.
now get to work!!