i'm sensitive and i'd like to stay that way

Yeah, I just quoted Jewel. So? I loved the shit out of Jewel in high school. What, I can have layers.

My point is this: I don't have one. But seriously, folks, I know I say a lot that I'm a robot with no feelings but for a robot with no feelings, I can get awful weepy sometimes.

So we picked out our songs for the weddings, right? You know the ones. The first dance and father/daughter and mother/son songs. TRADITION. Or whatever. Joe hasn't picked out the mother/son song yet. It's really hard (twss) to pick out songs for the father/daughter and mother/son dances that don't sound kind of creepy and really inappropriate. Anyway, since I'm the weepy type, I'm a little worried that I will spend most of the wedding day fighting off tears. I'm trying to combat this by listening to the first dance and father/daughter songs over and over to desensitize myself to them. I just started this project and so far it's not really working, which is why I almost started crying in the car this morning while listening to the father/daughter song and then I was all, "Suck it up, Baxla, PLAY LIKE A CHAMPION."

In other wedding news, the fake mustaches were delivered yesterday. It was actually a pretty good mail day. Joe got some toys, I got the mustaches and a bag of 400 Scrabble tiles (don't ask), we got some more RSVPs, and our first wedding present. Wheeeeeeeee! Anyway, I was so, so excited for the mustaches, you guys, and they look SO GOOD. I sort of hope not everyone takes one at the reception so there are some leftover and I can keep them and take them to parties and people will be like, "who is that sassy girl with the mustache?" and I'll be like, "it's me, bitches!" only not really because that's not very nice. Anyway. When Joe got home, I greeted him at the door like THIS which is probably kind of scary to see first thing when you walk through the door but oh well. And then this happened:

Me: I took a picture of myself with a fake mustache and put it on Facebook!
Joe: Haha, nice.
Me: It's pretty much the first thing I did after I opened the box.
Joe: Well, of course.
Me: I mean, what else would a perso do?
Joe: It's true, I think the order goes: get fake mustache, find camera, take picture, Facebook.
Me: Truth.

I don't think it happened exactly like that but I can't remember. Can you blame me? My brain is all fuzzy from fake mustache joy.

mystery solved

I posted yesterday about a movie where this happens:

The part I remember is of this family in a car and they're stuck in a traffic jam. At night. Of course it's at night. Anyway, there are two or three little girls sitting in the backseat and the one sitting in the middle is asleep. The other little girl(s) are all giggly and play a prank on the sleeping girl by tying her shoelaces together. Well, then they get in a terrible car accident and the sleeping girl (whose name might have been Jennifer, now that I think about it) can't get out of the car in time (because of her shoelaces being tied together) and the car like explodes and she dies, and the other little girl feels guilty forever the end.

I Googled it today and apparently it was from a made for TV movie called Don't Go To Sleep. That came out in 1982. I'm not sure how I saw it because I was a baby in 1982. So either the network reaired it years later, my parents taped it and then made me watch it when my sister was born so I'd never play that prank on her, or I saw it when I was a baby and I have super memory skills.

paul is dead

Every time I take a road trip, I think of this movie I saw when I was a kid. I have no idea what the movie was and, based on the only part I remember, I'm pretty sure that I should not have been watching it at such a young age.

The part I remember is of this family in a car and they're stuck in a traffic jam. At night. Of course it's at night. Anyway, there are two or three little girls sitting in the backseat and the one sitting in the middle is asleep. The other little girl(s) are all giggly and play a prank on the sleeping girl by tying her shoelaces together.

Well, then they get in a terrible car accident and the sleeping girl (whose name might have been Jennifer, now that I think about it) can't get out of the car in time (because of her shoelaces being tied together) and the car like explodes and she dies, and the other little girl feels guilty forever the end.

See? Traumatic, right? To this day, I don't take my shoes off in the car (unless they're flip flops) because what if we get in a horrible car accident and I can't leave the car because I don't have shoes on? This makes no sense, I know, because duh, Jennie, get out of the car barefoot but WHAT IF IT'S WINTER? My feet will fall off.

Other movies I saw as a child that traumatized me forever:

Gremlins: For years I was convinced that Gremlins lived under my bed but only at night. If I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I'd stand in the middle of my bed and jump as far into the room as I could because I imagined if I put my feet on the ground right by the bed, little Gremlin claws would grab my ankles and pull me under.

Cat's Eye: In which a young Drew Barrymore is terrorized by a gremlin in her sleep. Um. Yeah. So, Drew Barrymore gets a cat and her mom hates cats because I guess her mom is a giant bitch who doesn't like fun because have you ever seen a cat chase its tail? Comedy gold. Anyway, so she doesn't want Drew to have a cat because cats steal your breath when you're asleep. Drew's mom is crazy. Drew isn't allowed to have the cat in her bedroom at night because OBVIOUSLY the cat will steal her breath while she's sleeping OH OF COURSE YOU CRAZY MOTHER. But wait! Guess what happens? This little gremlin burrows into her room each night. He has tiny armor and a tiny sword because...sure, of course. And guess what he does? HE STEALS DREW'S BREATH WHILE SHE'S ASLEEP. Well, the cat won't stand for that so he breaks into the room and fights the gremlin. All I remember is that the gremlin had scary teeth and poked the cat with his sword and hurt that cat and I was like, "oh hell no, I'm out."

Twilight Zone THERE'S SOMETHING ON THE WING OF THE PLANE!: When I saw this, I had never been on a plane. I was terrified to get on a plane and TO THIS DAY, the first thing I think when I fly anywhere is, "I hope there's not a weird gremlin thing that effs up our plane." Which I think is totally valid even without having seen this Twilight Zone.

The Gate: You guys. This is the scariest movie I ever saw as a child. It might be the scariest movie I've ever seen EVER only I don't remember because I haven't seen it since I was like 8. WHO LET ME WATCH THIS? What happens is, these kids are allowed to stay home alone while their parents are on vacation. That never ends well. So of course, they play records backwards to see if they can hear Satan and they also dig a big hole in the backyard...for a pool or something. They put a gate over the hole (OK?) but it's too late! The combination of the backwards-record and the hole to hell (Hellmouth?) makes all these scary gremlin-demons come out and they are so creepy. They're little, but there's a lot of them, so they can totally eff you up. Also, there's this part where one of the kids has an eye growing in the middle of the palm of his hand and he stabs it with a piece of glass. Again, I ask, WHO LET ME WATCH THIS?

Apparently gremlins were as terrifying to me as a child as zombies are to me now. Good to know.

don't make fun of me

but I started a new blog. Start here for why.

Don't worry, I'll still be posting (sporadically) on this one and once a week on The Collective. I guess I just needed a new project. Also, I like creating new blogs and then forgetting about them after a month or so. Heh.

only I didn't say fudge

We went to wedding two (of five! or six, you know, if I count my own) this past weekend, a weekend that was PRACTICALLY IDENTICAL to a weekend two weeks ago, only like ten degrees hotter and a hell of a lot more humid.

The wedding was in Cleveland, meaning it was time to visit the house from A Christmas Story. We were up bright and early on Saturday, mostly because when I woke up, I was all, "RED RYDER BB GUN!" and wouldn't go back to sleep. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time because not only can you tour the Christmas Story house OH NO, there is also a museum with props. And actual actors from the movie, we found out. There is also a gift shop, which is where we had to buy our tickets. Yes, we had to buy tickets. You guys. It was the best $8 I ever spent, not counting the $8 of the $10 I paid to get into Dinosaur World that one time. And THAT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT.

So anyway, when we got there, we perused the gift shop for a bit and then headed over to the museum since we had some time to kill before our tour. The museum was pretty deserted, except for this tiny woman sitting in a chair in the corner with a small table in front of her. I tried not to make eye contact because I don't like making awkward small talk with strangers, but as we walked by she was all, "do you recognize me from the movie?" Not wanting to be rude, I replied with a clever, "ummmmm," because I had no idea who she was. Then she pointed to the picture lying on the table in front of her and YOU GUYS she was one of the evil elves from the department store Santa land.

We also met the guy who delivers the leg lamp to Ralphie's house. He actually lived on the street and was so nice and earnest that I felt bad when we had to leave in the middle of his story about why the FRAGILE box said "his end up" instead of "this end up." But I didn't feel THAT bad because OH MY GOD YOU GUYS A CHRISTMAS STORY HOUSE IRL.

They made us stand outside for a while and the tour guide gave us some history of the house and the movie. This sucked for two reasons. 1) It was hotter than balls outside (Satan's balls, even) and 2) WHY WOULDN'T THEY LET ME INSIDE?! It was OK for a minute, though, because Joe pointed out a fuzzy, yellow caterpillar that was crawling on the porch.

When they finally let us in, a bunch of people swarmed over to where Ian "I Can't Put My Arms Down" Petrella was standing but I had my priorities in order and I went straight to the kitchen to climb in Randy's cupboard. Obviously. And then Joe and I went upstairs while everyone else was preoccupied watching Randy show them how the piggies eat and so we were the first to see Ralphie's decoded message, the soap that made Ralphie go blind, and Ralphie's theme.

You know what's ridiculous? I don't remember seeing the Red Ryder BB Gun. WE HAVE TO GO BACK!

big fun

I haven't written about the wedding we went to last weekend because I caught the plague or something and haven't had the energy to sit up, let alone type and entertain you people WHY WON'T YOU LET ME REST? Actually, I'm fine, other than not being able to breathe out of both nostrils at the same time but that's more bothersome than anything else. I wish I could stop taking medicine, though, I don't like it. It's making me make less sense than usual. I took some Benadryl earlier, on top of cough medicine, which I'm sure is fine (RIGHT?), and I was all, "Ripley takes this medicine," and Joe was like, whaaa, because Ripley is my parents' dog and he was all, "are you taking dog medicine?" and I said, "no, Ripley takes people medicine...for her allergies...because she's SENSITIVE." And then I laughed maniacally for like five minutes straight and it was...well, it was weird.

Anyway, so we went to a wedding last weekend. One of my college friends got married, which meant a bunch of OTHER college friends were there. This is why weddings are good, it's an excuse to have mini-reunions every year. I'm not quite sure what will happen once we're all married, though, but I think we have a few more years of wedding-reunions left oh my god what am I talking about?

The wedding was in Cleveland, so we drove up Friday night because we didn't want to rush around on Saturday trying to make it on time. Which meant we had time to kill. So we went to a toy store called Big Fun.

OH. EM. GEE. It was like my childhood THREW UP all over this store. At first I wasn't that impressed because, I don't know, sometimes I resist having fun. I don't know why. Then I saw the Little People set up they had and I wanted to buy all of them but I resisted. They were the old Little People, not the stupid new ones. And they had My Little Ponies and the My Little Pony FREAKING CASTLE and Rainbow Brite and her horse whatever it's name was and Sprites and a Huggabunch doll (creepy as hell, you guys) and Dozers and and a Dennis Miller doll (WHAT?) and a bunch of Peewee's Playhouse stuff, including a Peewee lunchbox that I coveted so hard.

My point is, I want to go back. We're going to another wedding in Cleveland in a few weeks but I'm not sure we'll have time. You see, the house from A Christmas Story is also up there, and the kid (guy) who played Randy is leading the tours this month AND HOW CAN WE NOT GO TO THAT?

Rule #76: No excuses. Play like a champion!

The heat is finally breaking a bit, I think, and by breaking I mean it's only supposed to be like 90 today so I brought my parka to work with me. I hope it cools down just a teeny bit more before Saturday because we're going to a wedding and I doubt the bride and groom want to melt because I sure don't want to melt, so how about you turn the heat down a little, Mother Nature? Thank you in advance.

Wedding season, it would seem, is upon us, beginning this weekend and culminating with Kat's non-wedding in October. I think our wedding is in there somewhere but who can remember these things. I keep having these moments where I momentarily freak out and think I should be doing something wedding-related, which, I don't know, maybe I should, but then I think about what's left to do and there's not a lot. The only truly necessary thing left to do is print and send the invitations, everything else is just an idea at this point and if those ideas stay in my head, well, that's just fine.

It's strange how the wedding plans keep changing. We were initially going to get married in this cute little park, but because I'd, you know, kind of like my grandma to be in attendance, we had to scrap those plans and get married inside instead. Which is fine. Now we're getting married in the same church my parents got married in, which is the same church my grandparents got married in, and as cynical as I am, even I have to admit that's pretty cool.

Another plan was to invite only immediate family to the ceremony, and everyone else to the reception. This turned out to be more difficult than anticipated when we realized that we like a lot of people who don't happen to TECHNICALLY be immediate family, so last night we were all, "fuck it, let's invite everyone to everything." And then we ate teriyaki turkey burgers.

Who knows what else will change before September? I can't say I even care anymore, because at the end of the day, Joe and I will be married and I'm pretty sure that's the point of the day. I could be wrong, though, I've never gotten married before.

find a happy place FIND A HAPPY PLACE

My teacher in fifth grade was named Mrs. Wolfe. It was Mrs. Castrejon the year before who nurtured my love of writing, but it was Mrs. Wolfe who nurtured my love of storytelling. I loved Mrs. Wolfe, idolized her, really, and to this day she remains one of my favorite teachers. I think of her every now and then, usually when I read a book that makes me cry, and I realize that sounds INSANE but hold your horses, I'll explain.

Every day, after lunch and recess, Mrs. Wolfe would pull out an old stool and place it smack dab in the front of our desks. She'd then pull out a book and read to us. I don't remember how long she used to read, sometimes it seemed longer than others, but I always wanted it to last longer, especially if we were in the middle of a good book. At the time, I couldn't understand how some people could just STOP reading in the middle of a book. I couldn't think of much else when I was reading a good book and so would race to finish it so my brain could rest. Not much has changed since then.

I always knew we were in for it if Mrs. Wolfe put a box of tissues near her. She'd cry through the sad parts, even though she'd read most of these books to all of her many classes in years past. And I'd sit in my chair, struggling not to cry with her, because what if no one else was crying OMG SRSLY. This is why I still read books I think might make me cry in the privacy of my own home, which is why when I read the end of The Dealthy Hallows, I found myself alone in bed, working my way through a box of tissues and putting the book down every few minutes because I COULDN'T SEE THE WORDS THROUGH MY TEARS. But I digress.

I don't remember the names of all the books she read over the course of the year, but I do remember the saddest moment in all of those books. For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of the book, and for once, Google was of absolutely no help. But I have faith that one of you might have read the same book as a kid and, who knows, maybe it stuck in your mind as well.

WARNING: this is like the saddest thing ever. What I'm saying is, Heather Anne, you might not want to read this.

OK. So. There's this boy, I think he's 12, and he wants to join a big dog sledding race in Alaska. I think he needs to win money or something to keep the family home or farm or igloo or whatever. So he joins this sledding race with his trusty pet dog who is the best and smartest and bravest dog ever and all the other people in the race are these grown ass men with their grown ass sledding dogs and they all make fun of the little boy because they are all big meanie poopheads.

The race is really hard and the boy and his dog have many adventures and problems but they make it to the end of the race. It's them against this other guy who wins like ALL the races and the boy and his dog are in the lead! They're going to win! AND THEN THE DOG FUCKING DIES RIGHT BEFORE THE FINISH LINE.

It is the MEANEST! STORY! EVER! you guys. What the shit is that? So of course, in class, we're all crying because THE DOG DIED and stories where the dog dies are the saddest stories of all. But it gets worse. The man who was about to come in second to the boy and the dog before THE DOG DIED, the man who wins all the races all the time, stops his sled, picks up the dead dog and carries him over the finish line and then I DROWN IN MY OWN TEARS.

I hope I didn't just traumatize you. I think I traumatized myself all over again. Anyway, does anyone know what that book was? Because I want to write a mean letter to the author.

this post brought to you by Wackopedia

It's a terrible shock to hear the alarm go off after a four day weekend. I mean, it's a terrible shock most days to hear the alarm go off, but even moreso after a vacation, short as it was.

But alas, this morning the alarm went off and, after only one snooze, I dragged my protesting body out of bed. I can't really complain too much, even though that is my first natural impulse, because I'm only working three days this week. I know. I'll shut up now.

Anyway. I took last Friday off of work, supposedly in order to be productive but I think the only productivity I managed was doing a load or two of laundry. I also finished Ender's Game, though, so I think that counts.

I somehow talked Joe into going to SICSA on Saturday. I'm still not sure how I did it OMG just kidding, I just whined a lot until he drove there. We got there before it opened and I was real quick like, "LET'S TAKE A WALK UNTIL THEY OPEN," in case Joe was thinking it was a SIGN or something that they weren't open yet.

I just wanted to look at the puppies, I said, not get one. I told him it was like when you want to buy a new computer or camera or something and you go to a couple stores and read about them online before you actually buy one. Except that is not what I do. I decide one day that I want a computer/camera/cheesecake and then I just go get one. Usually I do some speedy research online, but still, when I've decided I want something it's after lots and lots of thinking about it and so at that point DON'T CARE HOW I WANT IT NOW.

Ahem. We did not, in fact, end up getting a puppy but it wasn't because there weren't any adorable dogs because there were lots of adorable dogs. Actually, they were all adorable. I can't stop thinking about this sweet, little dog named Kopek. He was five and he was missing an eye, and as we stood in front of his cage, he sat there so politely, just looking at us and wagging his tail while the other dogs barked for attention and I have to stop talking about him now or I'm going to have to go back there and get him ASAP.

The rest of the weekend was mostly spent on getting our wedding invites ready to print and I am proud to say that they are. I like to tell myself it was a team effort because I came up with the wording, but since I just mainly copied it from the Internets and Joe designed the rest, I will admit that he did most of the work.

I went to the pool twice and, to my utter astonishment, did NOT get horribly sunburnt, maybe because I was smart (for once) and limited my pool time to about an hour and a half. My pale, pasty skin is a tiny bit less pale and pasty so I no longer look like my mother and grandmother have had me locked in the attic for four years. Is it weird that I just made a VC Andrews reference? I can't help it. I read the shit out of some VC Andrews when I was a kid. She and Stephen King (and Christopher Pike and RL Stine) shaped my brain at a very impressionable age, which I think explains a lot about why I am the way that I am and why am I talking about my brain right now? I have no idea but I will add that today is Tuesday but feels like Monday but also like Wednesday because I'm not working on Friday and my brain is confused so that is why nothing I'm saying right now makes any sense the end bye bye.

QUESTION: What kind of bear is best?

On any given day, my job pretty much sucks. I try to remind myself that it could suck harder (twss) but on days when I do nothing but stare at I-9s (don't ask) or hear that Joe's company is giving away Kindles or iPhones or $50 Amazon cards FOR NO RAISIN, I get a little stabby.

And these are the days that I am so happy that Google Reader exists. I subscribe to about a billion things, meaning that at any point of the day, I can go there and be entertained. I like to think of it as a physical place, sort of like what The Commons was like at Wittenberg. Between classes, you could stop by and grab a cyberwrap (Chipotle-sized, customizable burritos) or a tiny pizza, and catch up with whoever happened to be there at the time. Wittenberg was a tiny school, so the chances that you would run into someone you knew were pretty good.

That's what Google Reader is like. There's some activity going on at pretty much any point of the day. Someone is sharing something, or there's a new Harry Potter read-a-long post to read, or there's an important conversation going on in the comments. A conversation like: what kind of pop-tart is best? (answer: anything frosted.) Or: what are your thoughts on donuts/bagels? (cake donuts, give me all the bagels.) Or: could James Franco be more crazy awesome? (No.)

When I think back to the early days of the internet, I am appalled at how low tech my blog/website reading was. I put my favorite blogs and websites on the sidebar of my own blog and I'd click on each one individually when I got bored to see if anything had been updated. LIKE AN ANIMAL.

Google Reader, though, Google Reader makes sure I don't miss anything and I don't have to do any work at all, really. I am being for serious, you guys, when I tell you that some days, I could not make it until 5 without my Greader. It is my precious and I wants it GIVE US THE PRECIOUS.