Shapeshifter's Quest

Sooooooo...
I am drunkle. But. I wanted you all to know that there is an amazinf .01 cent book called The Shapeshifter's Quest. It is amazing. By Dena Landon. So. If anyone wanted to read any good amazingsauce book. That is the one. Sorry I am so incredibly drunkle. I can't help myself. Wine is good. I love it and it is good. Like that book. It is SOOOOOOOO good. So good it is god. Because that is what drunk fingers say. Yes. Drunk fingers.

That is all! :D

And Ambria is here. I love her. She is my drinking buddy and puked a waterfall. I will attempt to link that incase there is is confusion.

THat is me and AMbria. At a party a little bit ago. Not this one. This one is just a birthday party. Sanctioned by my Step motehr. THe first party (and this picture) was at Zach's 21st which was not for a few days/

More smiling and awesomesauce. And Sid just licked me. He is too cute. Maybe there will be pictures. LIke this one.

Dash and Sid being hella handsome. I love my dogs.

And here is a banana split.

ANd some ducks on the ice.

ANd here is my kitty in my bathtub.

THat is all.

Love and other love!

:-D

White Castle and Shotguns

Okay, so this is a story that happened on one of the last few days of October of last year. It is a little lengthy, but I think it will be appreciated in the end.

I was at work on a Thursday or Sunday night, and had for whatever reason decided to drink coffee... at eight o'clock.

Feeling hyper, I texted Gina to see what she was doing. At that point in time, she was friends with my ex, Chris, and we were attempting a tentative friendship. I texted him to ask if it would be okay if I also hung out with him, Gina and Gage. After receiving an okay, I waited to get off work. At that point in time, hanging out usually meant driving around with the windows down all over the city and playing on jungle gyms like stupid unruly children.

At around eleven thirty, I left work and headed over to where everyone had gathered. Gage had procured some Four Loko. But because I thought I would be driving home later, I passed. And since Chris didn't have a car, Gage would be driving his, so Gage also passed on the drinking. Instead, Gina and Chris drank. But Chris got distracted, and instead of actually drinking all that much, (or even enough to feel buzzed) Gina drank two of them and passed out on the bed. I called her mom on her phone, and she was picked up by two in the morning. We proceeded to play on the computer and I slowly got bored. I was hoping for ACTION!

I realized I was staring at a pair of pants that were mine.

"Why do you have a pair of my pants?" I asked, standing up and walking over to get them. They were my nice black stretchy pants. "And my fucking hoodie?" I punched Chris in the arm annoyed that he had gotten my clothes when he left.

"Umm, I don't know." I shrugged, and started pulling off my work khakis. "What the hell? Don't strip in here!"

"What?" I said, pulling the more comfortable pants on. "It's not like you haven't seen it before. And Gage doesn't care." I buttoned them and pulled on my beige hoodie, then flopped on the bed.

"Still... Geez." He didn't look annoyed even though he was trying to convey he was.

"I am hungry. You will feed me. Gage! To the car!" (I think my original intent was to say Bat Mobile, but didn't know what color his car was.)

They agreed to my request, after all I didn't actually eat very much, and thus would not cost that much. We went downstairs and drove around the city block we were in. I was suddenly out voted for what to get. White Castle was on the menu, and everyone knew I hated White Castle.

I complained bitterly the whole time, and even during the ordering process, the cashier could hear how much I "HATE WHITE CASTLE." The guys got two dozen burgers and sodas. I solemnly took a bite out of the weird little burger, then spit it out into the box again.

"This is fucking disgusting," I said, not realizing there was ketchup, mustard and pickles on the burger. I washed the foul taste down with a huge gulp of soda then crossed my arms in the back seat as Gage steered the car back to Chris's.

The guys then had the bright idea to eat their food out in the cold in the back of the car. I felt obliged to stand outside with them in the thirty-three degree night. They munched through almost six sandwiches before we were too cold to do anything but crawl back in the car. They left the burger bag, plus the empty boxes on the trunk while we thawed.

That was a mistake.

The wind was blowing fiercely that night, but inside the car, it didn't really matter. The heat was blasting incredibly hard and loud, and I was content. Then a red car started rolling slowly down the street. It was three fifteen in the morning. We watched the car as it crept down the pavement, and Chris had the audacity to stare at the driver as he inched by. He was a large white man with short hair and a dark goatee.

They parked at the end of the street and got out. I read the back window: "Just Married."

The wife was still in her wedding dress. The guy looked at us in the car and crushed his face into a scowl. I felt myself lifting one eyebrow, wondering what his problem was. He slowly turned and jerked the back door to his car open and grabbed a cardboard box out from within. Then he very determinedly walked up the middle of the road, all the while scowling at us like we were somehow trespassing on his property.

"New flash," I said in my best anchorman voice, "the road isn't yours, dip-shit." I rolled my eyes, collapsing against the back seat again and still feeling hungry.

The guy and lady went up the house that was the neighbor to Chris's and went in. But then the guy came back out, looking defiant. Chris looked at Gage; I raised my eyebrow again. The guy came up to the window and tapped on the glass on Chris's side of the care.

He rolled the window until there was a tiny crack.

"What?" He said, sounding arrogant. I should have boxed his ears.

"I am sick of this SHIT!" The guy was bellowing like it was not three o'clock in the morning. "Pick this up, or I swear to God!"

I am not really sure what kind of a threat that is. I swear to God! That is nice and dandy, but it doesn't really convey anything, especially what one thinks he will do. I felt the whatever, Stupid, creeping across my face. I could hardly control myself. This guy was, 1. Drunk. 2. A jackass. 3. Getting on my nerves.

"Alright," Chris said, rolling the window up. The guy huffed then turned on his heels and went inside.

At this point, I am going to infer what probably happened. I couldn't see it happening, as I don't have x-ray vision, but it is a good guess.

While we sat cackling like hyenas, asking, "What the fuck is wrong with this dude?" he probably walked upstairs to his apartment where the new wife was waiting. Instead of climbing into bed like a normal person, he instead stripped down to his wife-beater and red boxers, unlocked the balcony door and made the conscious decision to stand out in thirty-three degree weather for no less than ten minutes and stare at us.

Yes, you read that right. And after noticing the crazy jackass in his underwear standing on the balcony, it was a unanimous vote that I had to keep my eye on him, since the back windows were heavily tinted. The guys and I chatted about what a weirdo this guy was, and other inane things. We were all slightly nervous, but not unnecessarily so, and definitely not enough to have one of us climb out of the car to pick up the trash that was sitting on the hood of the car.

After the ten plus minutes of standing in the cold, the guy finally had enough, (and probably chapped nipples) and went inside.

I jokingly said, "I bet he is getting a gun!"

Chris and Gage laughed, and Chris added, "Yeah. Probably has an AK-47 in there!" We laughed some more.

And then we looked over at the sudden movement of the front door to the guy's apartment. He came tramping down the stairs like an enraged gorilla. And he had something long and black in his hand.

I honestly thought for a second, (and later, Chris agreed that he thought the same) that the guy just had a metal bat.

It was only until he had raised it up on his shoulder and cocked it at us that we realized it wasn't. Instead we were looking down the single barrel of a shotgun. He tapped on the glass with it, and Chris inched the window down slightly, cracking it again.

Two things made this situation even worse.

Chris and I both didn't have our phones, and Gage's phone was busy Text Bombing mine. So there was no way to call the police at that moment in time.

"Sir?" Chris said. His voice was more than terse.

"Get the fuck out of the car and pick up this shit!" The guy made a point to not only aim the gun at me, but also at Gage. At this point in time, I was not feeling scared at all. It's arguable I was in shock. It was literally like time was going in slow motion. I was looking at the back of Chris's head and at Gage's profile and at the gun and at the crack in the window. I was focused so much on the situation that was occurring right in front of me that I didn't hear the wife who was shouting on the steps of the apartment complex. Apparently she was yelling at him to not shoot those damned kids.

Chris nodded. "I will get it right now." He opened the door and got out. I watched him head for the back of the car where some of the empty boxes had apparently been knocked over in the October wind. He scooped them up and put them in the bag, then headed back for the door and climbed back in the car again. The guy waved the gun in a circle all the while.

"You kids are a bunch of little shits. Always leaving shit for me to clean up! You make messes all up and down this fucking streets! You think you own this shit? Fuck all of you! You hear me?" (I imagine he actually would have spelled "hear" as "here" if he were to ever write about this incident in memoir.)

Gage and I had barely moved, but Gage had thankfully been smart enough to stop his phone from the Text Bombing app.

The guy huffed some more, then once again turned on his heel, but continued to curse at us loudly.

Gage handed Chris his phone.

"Call your mom," I said. Chris and his mother weren't close, but she was a Lieutenant on the police force, and I knew from the few chats we had had, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Mommy!" Chris literally said this. He continued in a little boy voice, "This guy just pulled a gun on us!" There was a pause. "Ana, Gage and I." Another pause. "At my house." He nodded, like she could see him doing it. "Mhmm. Yeah, that is the address." He nodded and hummed a again. "Okay. We will call the police."

He dialed 911.

"Hi, my name is Chris," he began, then gave our address. "This guy came out of his house with a single barreled shotgun and told us to clean up trash." There was a pause, "No he is in his house now." He nodded. "Okay. We will wait here."

We waited for only a few minutes, when there was a cop car suddenly in front and behind us. They told us to get out of the car and asked us where the gun was.

"In the house," I said, point towards the door.

"There are no guns in the car?" One of the officers asked, starting to head towards Gage's opened door. We were crowded around the trunk and I was shivering like a loon. The guys stood around me.

"Um... No. We don't own guns, nor do we have permits to own guns." I was totally deadpan while my teeth chattered in my head.

"We still need to search the car." I was dismayed at the older cop went towards Gage's door. I was freezing my ass off, and didn't want to wait for the search. Luckily Chris's mom rolled up the alleyway in an unmarked car.

"What are you doing! These children aren't the criminals! Ana, get in the car! You look half frozen!" Mama Bear was doing her thing.

I climbed in like I as told, relishing the warmth, but sat in the passenger seat. Gage sat behind me on the driver's side, but we had to keep the doors open so we could begin giving our statements. Chris stood in the doorway, hovering over me like a guard dog.

"Are you alright?" I thought about it, then nodded. I was actually fine. Just in shock. By the sheer stupidity of the human race. This guy was going to kill three kids over White Castle burger boxes? I sighed. On his wedding night!

A very friendly looking officer with a shiny bald head came over to talk to Chris and I while Gage talked to someone else. He smiled while I shivered uncontrollably and curled into a seated fetal position. I didn't have my ID on my so I had to verbally give him all of my information. I knew everything he needed though. Then we told the story. Three times we told it each, making sure every detail was right. It wasn't like I was going to forget it though.

I watched the other officers, (there were nine officers on the one-way street) go up to the door and knock. The jackass was still standing there in his boxers and wife-beater. The police went into the house. At that point I had to reiterate my statement. I was feeling warmer though, so I was slightly more animated in the telling. The officer nodded and "mhmm'd" at the right points. When I looked up the guy was in hand cuffs and being led to the "paddy wagon" as Chris informed it was called. I raised an eyebrow.

After all of that, (and the wife standing on the patio yelling at us what white trash we were, [we will disregard the fact that I was the only wholly white person there, Chris being half-black, and Gage being half-Mexican) Chris's mom came over to tell us the news. It was all "confidential" but basically the guy lied about the whereabouts of the gun, having hidden the firearm that had a filed off serial number. That was a felony. The Lieutenant assured us that even if the charges we had were dropped, that felony would stick. He was definitely going to jail.

She also informed us we had to give a formal statement with a lawyer in the morning at 8 o'clock. It was four thirty.

We nodded, then agreed to stay up all night in order to make sure our statement was made. Chris and I went into the house and I got my previously missing clothes, my purse, phone and keys, and went back outside. I followed Gage in my car to his house, where we dropped my car off. Then we went to Walmart, (where I assured them the florescent lights would keep us awake) and we hung out.

Then at seven thirty we returned to the city and went to city hall.

After waiting a long while, the nice bald cop came and fetched us. We gave an official statement to the lawyer.

Sadly, because Chris and I were both honest, we said we weren't actually scared at the moment it happened. Gage was the only one who said he was scared, so there was only one charge via Gage against the guy. But there was the felony charge, and probably some other ones Chris's mom made a huge effort to be pressed on to the jackass.

At least he didn't kill us. Three murder charges would have been a worse way to begin a marriage.

Why I Always Feel Awkward

I am notorious for not going to things like Christmas parties for work, and for not showing up to events for school.

For instance, I briefly joined the Newspaper at my school. I say briefly because I quit after a few weeks. Why did I quit, you ask? Because I ended up going to the Newspaper meetings and sitting quietly and had not a clue what to say to anyone. I don't feel like a particularly outgoing person until I get to know a person, and I didn't know anyone there. It was horrible, sitting there, feeling my cheeks get red and feeling incredibly awkward.

On top of that, the one assignment I had got turned down by the "editor" three times. Once because it was "two wordy," (I stayed well with in the 300 word limit.) the second time because it wasn't wordy enough, and the third time, because after I finally got it right, the piece wasn't relavent anymore.

After that, I left, feeling like I had made a fool of myself for even sticking my neck out and trying to do a good job. (Come to find out, during my last semester, I made a concerted effort to read the published newspaper and saw, [to my horror] that it was riddled with errors. Spelling and grammatical! I shook my head in dismay, knowing I could have done a much finer job fixing all of those things in one sitting.)

A second instance I always feel awkward is at other people's family get togethers. Like Christmas parties with people who maybe "family" but I can't even remember their names unless under duress and with a picture/name finding game.

I often find that I don't fit in with the "kids" because they are actually too young, or are near my age, but are no where near a competent maturity level. The guys are too busy chuckling about their beery college nights, and the girls are too concerned with their crushes.

I don't get to fit in with the "adults' because they think I am "too young" or "immature." It really couldn't be farther from the truth. And even when the adults want to talk to me, it is only ever about school or work. After all, what else can you talk to a student about?

I try to arm myself with interesting things to talk about. I like to listen to NPR so I can get some good facts about the world to help aid the adults in conversation, and I make efforts to watch MTV for the teenagers. Sure, I have plenty of "drinking war stories" to astound my male family members, but I sometimes keep that to myself mostly because then there is the awkward, "Hey, lets drink and smoke sometime!"

And then the Facebook friend request.

And so on an so forth.

I would rather curl up on a couch with a good book until the feasting of dinner and the opening of gifts. But that is definitely not allowed, (especially by the parentals) so I am left to feel awkward. It is especially awkward when everyone is done saying whatever they wanted to say and there is that long pause of silence.

........................

And then they look at me like, You must tell us all things!

Sorry guys. The only amazing things I have to tell are about how I passed school and get to go to "real college!"

Oh well. At least the easiest topic would be: "So the end of the world... We survived it, chee-ya!"

The Lord of the Rings: My Addiction

I must confess...

I have a horrible condition. It strikes me for no apparent reason, and often, I am sucked into the addiction for periods lasting longer than everyone in my family can hope for. Alas, I am a reader; a lover of books; one with the written word.

I have started reading The Lord of the Rings.

It is an amazing piece of work, and I am wholly invested in Tolkien's world, and have a new appreciation for the movies have loved for such a long time.

Here, I will be very honest.

When my parental people split up and my brother and I had to move out of our house that we had grown up in, the one thing I liked to do was fall into worlds created in books. And when the opportunity arose for the Lord of the Rings to be made into movies, I would often have whole movie days where Alex and I would watch the Lord of the Rings back to back to back.

I had never read the books though.

Until about four days ago.

And I basically can't stop. The books, (while quite verbose in some instances), are amazing. And I am totally in love with Middle-Earth all over again.

I want to take a trip where I can follow a through the movie filming sights, because I feel like the movies, (thus far), have captured some of Tolkien's Middle-Earth.

And the guy that plays Aragorn, (Viggo Mortensen), is INCREDIBLY SMOKING HOT.

What can I say? I am a sucker for a good book, and a good movie. 

I hope that explains why I have been absent for nigh on a week!

In other news: I am at this very moment uploading a YouTube video!

And when it is uploaded I will update this with a link! (UPDATED!!!)

Once I finish the Lord of the Rings, I promise to come back and continue to astound all of you with my wonderful stories of my life. For instance, I think my next post will include a short story about a very strange boy who really doesn't know how to woo a woman.

Changing Things Up (UPDATED)

Okay, an update is at hand.

After some more deliberation, I have changed some more things around.

Firstly, the Video Bar is now Maine, New York, New Hampshire, Vermont, Pennsylvania and the like. I added the "Email Subscription" thing. (Apparently since I don't have an RSS feed reader, it means that other people might not either.) Thus the "Email is Awesome" subscription spot is going to New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and the two Virginias. After that, we have the "Awesome Followers" tab taking the place of the Carolinas, the RSS feed in the Georgia and Alabama plots, and finally the "Archive" occupying the peninsula known normally as Florida.

There will be Piña coladas and much rejoicing!

*********************

Okay, so for the past few hours, (from like last night at around ten until three in the morning and then from around two until three thirty) I have been messing with all the different template stuff and whatever.

I thought about changing the layout to a nicer-looking "dynamic view," but I can't. I like almost everything about the dynamic view, except that I can't make the bar that has the "Blog Archive" and "Video Bar" stay popped out. It isn't the easiest thing to use or see. So for the moment, I will be using basically the same template as before. But for all the wonderful people that visit me regularly, (yes, I can see the stats on my blog steadily climb, [P.S. you guys are awesome]) I wanted to point out a few of the changes I have made.

For people like me, who seem to not be detail oriented, but actually are, I have changes things like the font of the title, the post titles, the dates, and the gadget titles. I picked something that kind of resembles my hand writing and that also looks like permanent marker. This seemed like an obvious change to me, since I started writing this blog when I first moved out of my parental people's homes.

I also added some new gadgets/widgets. The major one that I think should be noted on would my YouTube channel feed gadget thing. It took me almost an hour to figure this one out, but alas, my hard work paid off. Hopefully it will continue to work correctly and in my favor.

The second thing I added was something my mother suggested. This is the "RSS" subscribe button. I am not actually sure what it is, per se, but apparently it is quite useful for people who have an RSS reader. That should be located under my "Followers" button, and I think it is useful if someone does not have a Blogger account, but is instead part of an blogging community from another website, (but obviously still loves me and my Blogger website!).

I switched up a few of the placements of certain things, and that may change, according to my moods, or if there is a great conflict about finding certain things. I moved the "About Me" to the bottom of the page, feeling that it wasn't totally necessary to have it just floating around on the side being all "Look at me! This is who I am! I know you didn't know me before hand, even though everything I write is in the first-person perspective!" Therefore, its post has been moved from the East Coast to Texas.

I have the Followers button at the top of the column, (effectively making it Maine) and then the RSS sign-up button below it, (making it New York and Pennsylvania?). I made the Archive below that, (so it is a spattering of those tiny New England States that have excellent public transportation) and then the YouTube Video Bar below that. My only qualm is that with my Video Bar being Florida, it is very far down, and my posts aren't always that long, so I fear it may not always be seen or known about. Hopefully though, people will want to visit Florida, and maybe have a Piña colada or two.

Any whose, the more I begin to understand the wondrous ways of the internet and the offerings that can be given to me, I may change some things up even more. But never fear! I will hopefully remember to make the little transitions as painless as possibly by telling everyone what I did so as not to allow a faulty blog/United States map.

Last Semester's Project

So, Last semester I had to do this project on urban legends, and had to create a video. And because I wasn't feeling particularly creative or awesome today, (on the contrary, I was feeling lazy and unawesome) I put this video together instead. I shows off my "creative side."

And the fact that for a good grade, I will make a fool of myself, dress as an old lady, and cackle hysterically in public. Plus I got to drag my little brother in on the antics.

Basically we did it all in one shoot, and the whole thing is just improvised. Hope you all enjoy it!

For more visit HERE!

Power Lines

So, today I was going to make a rock awesome YouTube video to add to my collection. But is didn't because some jackass cut the power lines to my whole apartment complex.

I was just being all happy, curled up on my bed watching The Tudors, getting myself ready to be awesome, and then my power cord to my laptop goes off. At first, I started freaking out thinking that my stupid cat, who has made a habit out of chewing on electrical cords fucked up my charger. But then I realized that my internet was also off.

And the turtle light.

And the fridge.

And it all sunk in.

So I wandered over to my mom's house and found out the power was out there too.

I felt like, "Fuck my life."

Instead, I took a really long nap and basically drooled all over the pillow on the couch at my mom's house, woke up, went to the Bread Company, and ate soup. My mom and I went up there so she could do her work on her laptop, and because I was so bored, I ended up ripping the holes in pants into really big holes.

By the time my mom drove us home, I had torn the holes past the point of no return. I walked home a proceeded to rip the holes all the way down. My pants are now denim strips. Oh well. Such is life.

Here is a picture of my turtle. He is pretty awesome, too.

Ambria Turns 21!

Firstly, I have just made it to 1,100 page views, and that pretty much makes me feel like a boss. I think I am at some point supposed to say something like, "PLEASE FOLLOW MY BLOG."

And honestly, I really would like to have a little cult following, but I don't think I can just beg and plead for people to follow me. I figure if someone finds me amusing enough that they want it emailed to them that I am being amazing, they will do it without my insistance. With that, I will get back to my original point.

Okay, so on the sixth, Ambria officially turned twenty-one. So for her birthday, her family and I all went out to a Japanese restaurant where they cooked the food right in front of us. It was really cool, especially when our chef was flipping uncracked eggs around like crazy person. And I will admit that I was slightly jealous that he could do all of these amazing tricks while I can't even crack and egg one handed.

The salad and rice was amazingly delicious, and while I don't actually like shrimp or any seafood for that matter, I did eat the two pieces I was given. And when the chicken and vegetables finally made it onto my plate, I scarfed down as much as I could. But since I have a stomach that is probably as big as my fist, I only made a slight dent in my dinner.

The best part wasn't the food though. It was actually that the chef guy took the bottles of sake, which he used to light the grill on fire, and shot it into our mouths. It was pretty crazy. He would just take the bottle and squeeze it as hard as he could and shoot a stream for three or four counts. I don't know what the proof is on sake, but everyone was feeling it by the time all of the plates were finished.

The second best part though was when a restaurant guy came up behind Ambria and tied a headband onto her. She jumped about a foot out of her chair.

The third best part was when they came to sing happy birthday in Japanese. They turned out all the lights and came in with drums, had her stand up, and then took a picture of her. She didn't realize there was going to be a picture though and ended up looking off to her right with her eyes closed.

Afterwords, we went back to her house. Her uncle and step-dad and a couple of their friends rolled some joints and passed it around while we waited for the cake to be candled and lit. We sand happy birthday while Ambria's mom held the cake. We were all too full to actually eat the cake though, so instead, Ambria, Cousin Amie and Ambria's mom went down to the local bar, grabbed some beer buckets, and proceeded to drink so more. They didn't card, so I didn't have to worry.

Then Amie started getting Ambria some shots, and I was drinking them by proxy, so we were beginning to feel it. When the rest of her family got there, we drank some more, and stood outside with Amie while she had her smoke breaks.

At some point, Ambria and I decided to go to the store for a party we were going to the next night, so we left the bar for a little while to hit the liquor section at the grocery store. We were making my "famous sangria" recipe, and collected all the necessary things, stored them in the trunk of my car and headed back to the bar.

It was near Amie's last smoke break that we had the weirdest thing happen.

We went to stand out with Amie and her not-boyfriend Matt while they smoked when this guy came up to Ambria and I.

I wasn't drunk. I was maybe a little buzzed, but it was nothing compared to what I could be, so I wasn't going to even think about getting frisky with some random dude at a bar.

He introduced himself as "JP," but his name wasn't really JP, that stood for John Paul. But not Jean Paul. He was very specific. Ambria and I nodded, neither one of us interested in him, but he wouldn't just wander away.

"So how's it going?" He asked.

"Oh, you know, good." Ambria said.

"Yeah, just here with our family," I offered. Amie and Matt decided to join us more closely. He shook hands with them, but still wouldn't leave us be. I wasn't particularly annoyed; he was being regularly friendly, but I knew that you don't just chat people up on the street at a bar. Guys have agendas.

It started to get weirder when he asked us to come to his place at Christmas. I am going to paraphrase what he said.

"[Obviously you two aren't that drunk yet,] so maybe we can hang out around Christmas. [Since you won't be coming back to mine tonight] you should do all of your family stuff, then come hang out with me on Christmas."

"Uh, huh." Ambria and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. We couldn't understand why he was being so weird. Maybe we should have said something like, "We are jewish." Or maybe that were were devil worshippers. Thinking about all of these clever things now makes me wonder why I am not this quick when weird shit like this is going down.

I know you are thinking, gosh, that isn't so weird. Well, that was when another guy walking down the street decided to also stop. They didn't even know each other. But now we had Gabe and JP trying to get us to go to two separate Christmas parties because obviously we weren't drunk enough to bang them that night.

Matt finally finished his cigarette, "Hey, you ready to go inside?"

"Um, yeah." Ever protective of my friend though, I had her go in front of me, and Matt was the last one in, leaving the guys outside.

We got a last call at the bar, then got the lights turned out on us, so we left the bar and went back to Ambria's again. In the basement, we proceeded to get liquored up in the form of whiskey shots and Cocacola chasers. A serious game of foosball, and three hours later, Ambria was way drunker than me, and I opted to take her to her room.

We got into our jim-jams and climbed into bed, and it seemed that all was good.

Until Ambria got the hiccups.

Which turned into the puke-ups. All over her pillow and sheets and floor.

I ran downstairs and got a pan, putting it under her face so she could puke, and patiently waited while I holding her hair back. After it seemed like she was stable enough, I moved her to the bathroom.

Thinking quickly, I went downstairs, donned some Ziplock bags as gloves and found a plastic grocery bag. I went back up, and holding my breath, I scooped the Japanese food vomit into the bag. Tossing that out, I went back down to find cleaning supplies.

I have never cleaned up puke on carpet until the other night. I didn't know what to use, and I didn't have a huge cleaning supply arsenal. I grabbed the Comet and a bucked of hot water with Dawn dish soap and headed back upstairs.

I soaked up all the icky stuff with the Comet, then scrubbed the floor and wall until it wasn't brown anymore. Proud of my handy work, I went to check on Ambria.

She had been puking in the sink, consequently clogging it. I moved her to the toilet and we sat there until almost five in the morning. When she was finally empty, we moved back to her room where I had a clean pan ready if she got ill again.

Thankfully, she didn't get sick again, and we slept until almost twelve the next day.

All in all, I think it was quite a successful birthday venture. Especially since Ambria is waiting with bated breath for my birthday. She wants to repay the favor for me taking care of her by getting me sick back.

Yeah, we might be a little weird.

Nigel Thornberry, Cat People, Mermaids, and Duck People

I had a dream last night that I was on a ship that was manned by Cat People. By which I mean I was on a ship akin to the Black Pearl and the pirates weren't people but were instead bipedal jungle cats. I was some sort of prize, because we were heading into port where I was going be used as a negotiation piece for something.

When we arrived near the rocky part of the port, there was a mermaid sitting on a rock telling the Cat People captain something in Mermish. We headed into the docks, and our boat was tied off, and I was carted off for the negotiations of whatever was going to be negotiated.

Until we ran into Nigel Thornberry.

I was very confused, and he seemed to think I was in much need of help. So he wandered off, muttering something about anchovies and how smashing the mermaids were.

I was then lead further into the port city towards the king/queen. I was feeling worried. Until the ground started to rupture.

Actually, I think that probably made me more worried, since the ground was falling out from under my feet, or splitting or some other likely dream scenario for when you are captured by Cat People pirates and taken past the borders of the Mermaid Brigade of Helpful Watchmen, (this is just the title I have given the mermaids, for whatever reason).

So the ground was cracking up and shaking like I imagine a proper earthquake would be like, (having never actually been awake to experience one) and the Cat People pirates were freaking out.

Mostly because their arch-nemesis, the Duck People, had come to the aid of Nigel Thornberry and subsequently, me. There was a big fight, and finally, I was somehow freed from my captors. I headed down the streets to the harbor where the Mermaid Brigade of Helpful Watchmen were waiting. Except they weren't so helpful. They liked the Cat People a lot better than the Duck People. The Cat people stayed on land and didn't poop in their waters. The Duck People weren't so considerate.

I thought I wasn't going to be able to escape the Cat People pirates, or if I did, I would be swallowed up by the earth because of the newly created earthquake chasms being ripped into the city streets. My outlook didn't look good.

But then, cresting over the waves of the extremely upset seas was the Thornberry RV. Eliza Thornberry and Darwin were there with a rope that they held onto while I climbed aboard, ready to make a safe getaway from the city.

But then I looked back and saw the sails of the Cat People pirates' ship heading directly our way. I was really scared, because when I looked down over the RV's railings, I saw that the mermaids were hanging on to the inner tube that was keeping us afloat. I felt for sure that we weren't going to make it.

And then my cat smacked me in the face with her weirdly fleshy paw.

Wake up, bitch face, she said.

New YouTube Video

Okay, so I thought I was going to get this done and edited yesterday. But I was lazy and having girl problems, so I did it today instead.

Sooooooo here is it! I hope you guys like my insanity.

For more awesomeness visit my channel!

My First Best Friend

Whenever I went to kindergarten, I rode the bus with my cousin. We sat in the front and silently fretted about our first day of school. I was so scared that when we finally rolled up to the kindergarten building, (because it was kept separate) I proceeded to trip over my own feet, fall out of the bus and bust my knees open.

I can still remember the red checkered shirt I was wearing that had a little bow tied at the bottom of the buttons.

After standing up, I made myself not cry as I shuffled over to the red door where my classroom was. My teacher was late though, so the door wasn't unlocked. I ended up standing there with all of the other kids ogling me as I bled into my white socks.

Finally my cousin told his teacher, (who was on time) what had happened. She came out and saw me standing there, bleeding like I was shot, with wet, glistening brown eyes. I was holding on tightly to my backpack and whimpering every time the wind blew.

"Oh, honey," she had said, bending down to my level. I felt terrified, thinking I had done something wrong. It wasn't like I wanted to injure myself on my very first day. "Let's take you to the nurse. Who wants to come with me?"

No one said anything. I had effectively made myself into a pariah with my blood stained socks and clumsy feet.

"I will!" Someone said from the back of the twenty or so students. I was a little kid at the time, littler than everyone else, so I didn't know who had piped up. Finally the kids parted as the only black girl in the entire kindergarten walked forward.

"Oh-kay, girls," the teacher said, really drawing out her okay. She walked across the blacktop, which at the time seemed like a mile.

"I like your hair," I said, admiring the clean black braids. 

"I like yours," she said. I found out later her name was Reese.

I came to adore her, and subsequently we became best friends. I remember asking her one day what happened when she stayed out in the sun for too long.

"What do you mean?" She'd responded, her braids taken out instead for two puff balls on the top of her head.

"I get all red then I get brown like this color." I showed her my tanned arms from hours and hours of baking in the sun. I looked more Mexican than White.

"I guess I must get lighter," she offered, having never thought of that.

"Maybe by next summer we will be the same color, like twins!" I was really excited at the idea of being her twin.

A few weeks later, I had went home asking my mom to do my hair like Reese's. She went out and bought a hundred clear rubberbands and sat with me on the couch braiding my hair into a hundred different braids. I felt so cool being able to look like Reese.

"Do you like it?" I asked, twirling around so she could see how my braids were like hers.

"You just need to get beads put on the ends like mine," she said, grinning. We were obviously getting closer to twin-hood.

It was almost the end of the year, and we made each other paintings. Mine was probably a tree with us standing under it; Reese with dark brown skin, and mine considerably lighter, and I think hers was us on a stage with the same skin color scheme. We exchanged paintings and climbing into the newly installed "tree house" that was a piece from one of the plays put on by one of the fifth grade classes.

"I have to tell you something," Reese said, looking saddened.

"What's the matter?" I asked. I felt sad, too, knowing there was some bad news coming.

"I am going to be moving soon. Really far away." I think I cried all the way home. I asked my mom if we could adopt her so she could stay. That plan didn't quite work out.

I hugged her goodbye on the last day of kindergarten after we had "graduated" and told her we would be best friends for life. That didn't quite work out either, but she was the coolest first best friend I could have ever had.

Ulcers and YouTube

So, as an update, my grandpa should be getting better. The doctors did their doctor tests and found out he had an ulcer which I guess was causing him to lose blood, or not absorb iron or something. The doctors gave him medication and sent him on his way home. Dad and Sharon went up to the hospital to help him get home and comfortable.

I am very relieved it was nothing serious, (I mean, I think ulcers are semi-serious, your body is like making an acid bubbled hole in your stomach...) and that he is going to be relatively fine, unless the ulcer comes back.

I woke up this morning, took a shower, and got ready to make my YouTube video, (it's about going to the movies, so it should be semi-amusing) and ended up doing three or four takes. I thought I liked it, but now I am not so sure. So I might redo it after I get done babysitting tonight at like one o'clock in the morning.

Speaking of YouTube, I recently found out that one of the kids I was supposed to be babysitting, (she is at a sleepover) apparently made some crazy ass video and posted it to YouTube.

My disclaimer: this girl is twelve years old, which makes this next part so much worse.

The girl and her friends made a video saying how they were single and "looking for love" then proceeded to give out their addresses, on mother fucking YouTube!

Not only do I think that is crazy insane for anyone to do, considering all the creeps out there in the world, but she is TWELVE!

When I was twelve, I had just started sixth grade and my free time was filled with bike riding and watching Animal Planet. To be honest, I was really late to the social media game. I didn't have a Facebook until I was almost sixteen, I never had a MySpace, and I still don't know how I feel about Twitter. The only reason I even got on YouTube was because I had a college course that required I learned how to use it, and iMovie. 

Naturally I don't understand what would possess anyone to put their address out on the internet like that. But if you are over eighteen and live in your own place, I really don't give two fucks. But if you are a kid, there should definitely be some serious spanking going on. I am completely dumbfounded by the stupidity of this little girl and her friends.

So her dad ended up having to report all the creepy ass comments going onto the video, before it was (thankfully) taken down, and all of the passwords on every computer in the house was changed plus all of the internet passwords.

Absolute stupidity.

End of the story is this: YouTube is a great power that comes with a great responsibility.

Blood Transfusions for Grandpa

So, my step-mother told me today just as I was hopping into my car from the community college that my grandpa Wayne was in the hospital.

Apparently he is super anemic and has to get blood transfusions over the next few days. My dad and Sharon went to go visit my grandpa and grandma in the hospital. I would have gone except I had a yoga final (that I totally rocked). So I am going on Friday, which is actually today about twenty-five minutes ago.

I went to the hospital once for a sick person visit, and that was for my mom when she got a viral and bacterial infection plus one or two bouts of pneumonia. It was a little scary because no one knew what was wrong with her, and the CDC still sends her letters asking if she has had any changes in her life because of her unknown illness, but she is still young, so I knew she was going to be fine after some serious medication.

My grandpa, though, will be eighty-nine on December thirteenth. He isn't someone I expect to bounce back from everything and anything. And considering how hospitals are basically Peatri Dishes for every single kind of medication resistant bacteria and virus, I don't want him hanging out there for four days.

I am just left waiting until he gets better though, which is the worst feeling in the world. I know I am usually more upbeat about things/life in general. Especially since the holidays are coming up. But this has kind of just put a giant downer on my mood. I am worried about him. He is just the most awesome person in the world. I don't want to think about the "what ifs," but anyone who knows me personally knows that I am literally going over every situation that could possibly happen in my head, good and bad.

I don't want to be depressing or anything though, for the world or for myself. So I am going to start seriously exercising again so I can make fake happiness with all those crazy exercise endorphins.

At least Sharon, who is in the medical field, can understand more of what the doctors are saying. She is keeping me in the loop. As of right now, my grandpa is feeling better after his first transfusion, and even ate all of his dinner. The doctors don't know what caused him to be so anemic though, so they are going to be running more tests on him. I hope that everything turns out okay, because I love Grandpa Wayne more than I can explain.

Maybe I will see about giving blood when I visit. I figure even if I am not a match for Grandpa, there is someone out there with their own Grandpa Wayne who needs it.

High Pitched Carolers Standing Behind Me with a Flute

Okay, I am literally, at this very moment, sitting in the lunchroom on my community college campus trying to read some other blogs that I enjoy greatly, and instead I am being horribly distracted.

Distracted by what, you ask?

These crazy ass people sitting behind me with a flute.

But let me begin the story from a half hour previous to this moment.

I went to get my usual lunch of a wrap filled with meat and cheese and mayo and a Simply Orange Juice. Then I made my was to an empty alcove filled with empty chairs. I felt safe in my empty haven, and happy I wouldn't have to make conversations with people I didn't know, and would certainly not be friending on Facebook later.

It all seemed well, as I was able to eat half my wrap and peruse the internet to my liking.

That was until this girl came out of nowhere with a guitar. And then two big black guys came over and started to play it and alternately serenade her, and then me. I smiled like the polite person I was, but I hoped they would just move to the alcove one space behind me and continue their love songs.

Instead, six other people came over, with one guy playing hackie-sack with a little skinny girl that dropped her phone four times. And then her friend in scrubs came over, which made the skinny girl with the butter fingers jump up and down and squeal loudly.

I tried to ignore them. And then some guy came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Sorry about all this," he said smiling. I waved a hand in the air, like Don't worry, it's normal for people to collect around me in large, loud masses and serenade each other whilst playing hackie-sack and dropping their phones.

Because all of these things are totally normal.

Well after a few minutes of Butter-Fingers talking to Scrubs, everyone suddenly got up and stood behind me and thus began the guitar playing, flute blowing, high male voiced edition of christmas song caroling.

Which, once the guitar wielding girl left, has now become a mash-up of Aladdin songs, Carrie Underwood, and "Silent Night."

And they are making up their own lyrics to the "Twelve Days of Christmas."

It goes a little like this:

"Seven dudes rapping, six boxes of condoms, FIVE BAGS OF WEED, four BMW's, three dirty hoes, two fat bitches, and a blunt lit up for me!" 

Sung all by boys, in ridiculously high pitched voices. I guess I can't complain though. They don't actually sound all that bad.

Mr. Einstein

My mother and I went on a "Writing Retreat." This basically entailed renting a Kia Soul, driving to southern Missouri, and staying in a wonderful little wood cabin with a stone fireplace. We had three bottles of wine, a Rum-Runner bag of Honey Whiskey, several flavors of Kahlua, and our laptops. It was a remote enough location that there wasn't any internet or phone service to distract us.

But we did have one distraction, and that would be the bartender: Mr. Einstein.

His name was probably not Einstein, but he looked like him. And maybe a little Mark Twain-ish too. Like Mark Twain and Einstein had a baby that was really good at pouring wine and beer.

He was pretty awesome, forgetting what he had talked to us about, coming over to make conversation about books and writing. This was probably brought on because the man who owned the cabin-resort made sure that his whole family that was also staying in several different cabins knew we were there to write our asses off.

Knowing that we were trying to complete the National Novel Writing Month challenge didn't stop Mr. Einstein though.

On Friday, (the day after Thanksgiving), he came over to me while I was reading a book after feeling drained from the five thousand or so words I written earlier, and started telling me about he was so glad he was retired.

"The best thing about getting old is this, little lady," he began, tending the fire, "You can stay up all night reading a good book."

"Well, I am certainly not retired," I said, continuing the conversation, "But having responsibilities has never stopped me from staying up all night."

"Ah, well. You never had to work on the farm!"

"No, I didn't," I said, holding The Windup Girl in my lap.

"I am just telling you, it is just great how I can stay up all night reading a book. Most nights I am up until six o'clock in the morning, and then I am asleep until two in the afternoon!"

"Sounds like you are a college kid," I said with a laugh.

"Ah, well. Let me know if you girls need anything. I am the bartender you know!" I nodded and smiled. Mom was in the other room typing away, so she didn't even know about this conversation.

When Saturday night rolled around, and Mom and I decided to take another break from writing, we headed down to the dining hall and pulled out the Scrabble board to play a game. Mom was kicking my ass super hard when Mr. Einstein came over to chat some more.

"I have got to tell you," he began, "I just finished a book this morning. Stayed up until the sun came up, then retired for bed!"

"No way! Did you start it last night?" Mom gave me one of her What the fuck? smiles.

"That's right! But like I said, once you pick up a good book, you can't put it down. And the sunrise was just beautiful!" He smile and nodded, and Mom smiled back, giving me worried glances. "Anyways, I don't want to be too much of a bother. Can I bring you girls something?"

"Oh, I think I am good," I said, knowing dinner was in thirty minutes or so.

"I'm doing all right, too," Mom said. Mr. Einstein nodded, patted me on the shoulder and headed into the other room to see if anyone else needed anything. "What was that about?" Mom whispered loudly.

"Oh, we were talking last night," I said, not explaining anything, instead concentrating on the Scrabble board and my letters. I had five I's, a blank, an R, T and N.

"We didn't talk to him about books!"

"No, no. I talked to him." She looked horribly confused as I waved my hand around flippantly. "He came over last night and I chatted with him..."

"When?" It was her turn, but I was hoping to be ready for when she played. I shuffled my letters then answered her.

"After you went into the dining room so you could get internet?" I was confused about why she was so confused.

"Ooooooooooh. I thought he was going senile. I mean we had the same conversation with him twice, and then he starts up a conversation with you that doesn't make any sense. At least to me."

I laughed, "No, I knew what he was talking about." I explained about the retirement and staying up until sunrise.

"I guess we can still call him Mr. Einstein since he hasn't totally lost his marbles," Mom said, placing the coup d'etat of words on the board: HAZE going down on a triple word score, off a vertically placed ET. Fifty-five points that easily secured her winning in two more turns by a one hundred point lead.

She always has to beat me.